Nettie's Secret

by Dilly Court

  Nettie remained where she was. Her feet felt like lead and her head ached as she tried to come to terms with the sudden change in their situation. One minute everything had seemed to be going well, but then Duke had appeared as if from nowhere and her father and Aristide had been dragged away by the local police.

  ‘Byron,’ she murmured. ‘He’ll come looking for me and he won’t know where I’ve gone. I have to go and find him, Constance.’

  ‘But you don’t know the town, Nettie. You’ll get lost.’

  ‘He would have made his way back to the marketplace. I can find that easily enough.’

  ‘And walk straight into the arms of a gendarme? If they were looking for your father they must know that you were with him.’

  ‘I’ve been afraid that this would happen, but it might be Aristide they were after. If the police traced us here they would know that Pa was working for Duke and have arrested both of them.’

  ‘You’re forgetting that Duke is known as Marc Gaillard here and in Paris,’ Constance said urgently. ‘You need to talk to him, Nettie. I’m sure he’ll tell you that this is all a mistake. He’s a wealthy man, but I’m sure he made his money honestly. I can’t believe that he would trick people into buying forgeries.’

  ‘Duke led my father astray. He uses people, Constance. I know you think well of him, and perhaps he’s been kind to you in the past, but no good can come from you staying with him now. When he’s discovered he’ll end up in prison.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ Constance said urgently. ‘I can’t leave him.’

  ‘You have that lovely house in Paris. Why did you follow him here?’

  ‘We’re married, Nettie. I’m his wife.’

  Nettie stared at her in stunned silence and a sudden breeze showered them with petals like pink confetti.

  ‘You’re married!’

  ‘It was very sudden. Duke came to my home and told me to pack. I thought we were going to stay in Honfleur, as we have done every year since my parents passed away, but then he told me that we were coming to the château. I could have refused, but I saw the sense of his proposition, so we came here and went through a marriage ceremony in the town church.’

  Nettie shivered as clouds covered the sun, leaving them in deep shadow. ‘Do you love him?’

  ‘I don’t think I know what that emotion feels like, Nettie. I’ve led a quiet life with very little chance to meet people of my own age, and Duke has always been kind to me. It was what my parents would have wanted.’

  ‘But this isn’t the Middle Ages,’ Nettie said angrily. ‘You’re young and you have your whole life before you. You could have refused.’

  ‘It’s done now, and there’s no going back.’

  Constance walked off, heading towards the house, and Nettie was left with little choice other than to follow her. She could have let herself out into the street and gone in search of Byron, but there was no guarantee that he would be waiting in the market square. She could try to find the cobbler’s shop, but it was unlikely that he would still be there, and if she made her way back to the barge it would almost certainly be watched by the gendarmes. She quickened her pace in an attempt to catch up with Constance, who was hurrying on ahead, and it was only when Constance stopped to let herself into the servants’ wing of the ancient building that Nettie finally arrived at her side.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Nettie said breathlessly. ‘It’s none of my business.’

  ‘I expect it does seem odd,’ Constance acknowledged with a faint smile. ‘Duke is a lot older than me, but he could have had any woman he wanted.’

  Nettie did not agree, but there were more important issues to consider and she needed Duke’s help. ‘I suppose I should call you Mrs Dexter now,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘Or is it Madame Gaillard?’

  Constance smiled and nodded to a young kitchen maid who scurried past them carrying a large pan of water. ‘Nothing has changed between us, Nettie. I hope we can be friends.’

  ‘You can rely on me for as long as I’m here, but I really do need to speak to Duke and ask for his help. I can’t abandon my father.’

  ‘Duke will be in his studio by now. He spends hours there studying the paintings, which I find very dull.’

  Nettie followed her through narrow flagstone passageways with vaulted ceilings, their footsteps echoing eerily and their voices coming back to them in ghostly whispers. She was beginning to feel as if she had walked into one of her own novels.

  ‘This house must be very old.’

  ‘I believe so. Duke told me it was a fortress in the thirteenth century, but I’m not particularly interested in history and, to tell the truth, I hate it here. It’s always chilly, even in summer. It’s very damp and it smells musty.’

  The passage opened out into a vast hall with a huge fireplace at either end. Armorial shields had been carved into the stone, and the walls were hung with hunting trophies, tapestries, swords and ancient blunderbusses. Tall mullioned windows filtered the sunlight, creating patterns on the flagstone floor, which felt cold beneath Nettie’s feet. The room was sparsely furnished with cumbersome wooden coffers, uncomfortable-looking upright chairs, and a refectory table that would sit at least forty. A door concealed beneath oak panelling led into another passage and at the far end they came to Duke’s studio.

  Constance knocked and entered.

  ‘You shouldn’t have walked away, Duke,’ she said angrily. ‘Nettie needs your help.’

  Nettie stepped over the threshold and the familiar smell of linseed oil and turpentine was oddly comforting, but it was something of a shock to see easels with unfinished canvases and the usual clutter of paint tubes, palettes and pots filled with brushes. Large windows allowed the light to flood in and double doors opened out onto a terrace where spring flowers bobbed and swayed in the gentle breeze. She walked slowly round the large room, gazing at the paintings that hung on the walls, and she recognised several of her father’s original earlier works. She spun round to find Duke standing behind her.

  ‘What are you doing with these?’ she demanded angrily. ‘My father could have sold them.’

  ‘I paid him for them,’ Duke said coldly. ‘Don’t worry, he received a fair price and I bought them as an investment.’

  ‘So you admit that my father has talent.’

  ‘I do, most certainly, and he’s been using it to great effect.’

  Nettie glanced at the unfinished canvases. ‘Pa didn’t do those.’

  ‘I had a very capable copyist here in France, but unfortunately the poor man sickened and died.’

  Constance stared at him aghast. ‘Did you really sell copies as original works of art, Duke?’

  ‘How did you think I made my money, Constance? Your father almost went bankrupt, but I prospered. Didn’t you stop to wonder why?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. I trusted you, Duke.’

  ‘Well, now you know. I’m sorry if it offends your sensibilities, my dear. But you’ve enjoyed the benefits of my ill-earned profits, and continue to do so.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Nettie said, glancing from one to the other. ‘I didn’t mean to cause a rift between you.’

  ‘And I’m sorry if I haven’t lived up to your expectations, Connie,’ Duke said, gently.

  ‘I’m not a child, Duke.’ Constance faced him with a rebellious scowl. ‘I just don’t like being lied to. You should have told me everything before we were married.’

  ‘There was no need for you to know.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ Constance said angrily. ‘If you’re caught and sent to prison, where does that leave me?’

  ‘You’re a bright girl – you grew up in the art business and everything is in your name. I’m sure you could carry on where I left off.’

  Connie’s outraged expression melted into a wide smile. ‘I’m sure I could, and I would probably do just as well as you, if not better.’

  ‘My respect for you deepens the more I get to know you, Madame Gaillard.’ Duke took her h
and and raised it to his lips. ‘I think we’ll do very well together.’

  ‘This is all very fine, but I hope you’re not thinking of involving Pa again,’ Nettie said angrily. ‘We’re in enough trouble as it is.’

  Duke was suddenly serious. ‘It had crossed my mind, but the gendarmerie seem to have put paid to that idea. I’ll have to think hard about our next step.’

  ‘But you’re prepared to let my father take the blame for your failings. You must have made a fortune selling fakes, and yet the people who do the work live in poverty.’

  Duke struck a pose, his eyes alight with laughter. ‘Oh, come now, Nettie. You weren’t starving in that garret – you weren’t barefoot. If you were poor it was because your father is a spendthrift.’

  Constance stepped in between them. ‘Stop teasing her, Duke. Are you going to help her, or not?’

  Nettie stared at her in astonishment. This Constance seemed like a different person from the shy young woman she had met in Paris.

  A dull flush coloured Duke’s cheeks and he acknowledged her reprimand with a nod. ‘You’re right, my dear. Of course I’ll do anything I can to get Robert out of trouble. For one thing, I doubt very much if our local police know of his involvement in the art world. I suspect that it was your bargee friend they were after.’

  ‘What do you know of that man, Nettie?’ Constance eyed her curiously. ‘Why would the gendarmes arrest him?’

  ‘I don’t think he’s a bad person, but he does make free with his cargo of wine and grain, and he seems to have a way with the ladies. Perhaps a jealous husband has made a complaint against him.’

  Duke threw his head back and his laughter echoed round the studio. ‘This is France, Nettie. We’re not in hypocritical England where such things go on all the time but are brushed under the carpet.’

  ‘What can we do?’ Nettie looked from one to the other. ‘And where could we go from here?’

  ‘Where were you headed anyway?’ Constance asked. ‘Had your father decided to return to London?’

  ‘We had very little money and nowhere to go – we were desperate and Aristide offered to take us on his barge; it was as simple as that.’

  ‘And the young man who accompanied you,’ Duke said, frowning. ‘Why was he travelling with you?’

  ‘Oh, my goodness!’ Nettie gazed at the large clock on the wall that would have looked more at home in a station waiting room than an art studio. ‘Byron will be looking for us. He’ll wonder what’s happened.’

  ‘You must do something, Duke,’ Constance said firmly. ‘It seems to me that you were at fault, and you should make things right for Nettie and her father.’

  Nettie eyed Duke warily, expecting him to snap, but he smiled and nodded.

  ‘I suppose I must admit some culpability, but Robert knew what he was doing when he agreed to work for me.’

  ‘Duke!’ Constance gave him a stern look and received a kiss on the forehead in return.

  ‘All right, my dear. I’ll send one of my men to find this fellow Byron and bring him here, and I’ll go in person to the gendarmerie, and see what I can do.’

  ‘I should go with your servant,’ Nettie said hastily. ‘He won’t know who to look for, and Byron might refuse to accompany him. I dare say he’ll return to the barge.’

  ‘I’ll go with you.’ Constance drew herself up to her full height. ‘Don’t try to stop me, Duke,’ she added. ‘None of your servants speaks English and Nettie has very little French.’

  He nodded reluctantly. ‘Very well, but come straight back. I don’t want you wandering about on your own.’

  ‘I grew up in London and in Paris,’ Constance said smugly. ‘I think I can look after myself in this small town.’

  ‘Even so I’ll send Henri with you, but don’t linger. It’s possible that we might have to leave suddenly.’ Duke left them staring after him and his footsteps faded away until they were left in silence.

  Nettie gave Constance a searching look. ‘What did he mean by that?’

  ‘I don’t know, but this is so much more exciting than being stuck in Paris with Mademoiselle.’

  ‘I was worried that Duke might have forced you to marry him,’ Nettie said, smiling. ‘But it seems to me that you can handle him very well.’

  ‘It’s easy enough in my position.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘It’s a marriage of convenience, Nettie. I doubt if you would understand.’

  ‘I might, if you can tell me why you agreed to such a thing.’

  ‘My father was an expert when it came to art, but no good with money. It was Duke who saved Papa from bankruptcy, and Duke put the house in Paris and the gallery in my name. It was part of his promise to look after me should anything happen to Maman and Papa.’

  ‘But surely that needn’t involve marriage? Duke Dexter made his money by defrauding the people who bought the paintings that he passed off as originals.’ Nettie shook her head. ‘Don’t look at me like that, Constance. I know my father is equally to blame, but you’re married to a man who might at any moment be arrested and sent to prison.’

  ‘I didn’t know that when I agreed to marry him, although Duke told me there might be problems, but everything was signed over to me so I would always be safe.’

  ‘I still don’t understand what either of you would gain from a loveless marriage?’

  ‘I have the protection of being a married woman, and I’m a woman of property. I didn’t go into this lightly, Nettie. I’m neither clever nor beautiful, and I’m certainly not rich – hardly a good match. I thought about it carefully before I agreed to his proposition, and this way my future is assured.’

  ‘But, Constance, what happens if you meet someone else and fall in love?’

  ‘If and when that time comes, the marriage will be annulled, which was part of our agreement. I will keep the house in Paris and return the business to Duke.’

  Nettie struggled to think of a suitable comment. Constance might appear to be fragile and inexperienced, but she had the unsentimental, pragmatic approach of a true businesswoman.

  ‘I think you’re wrong in your opinion of yourself, Constance.’

  ‘Really? In what way?’

  ‘I’d say you are very clever, and you’re very pretty.’

  ‘If you say so,’ Constance smiled as she headed for the doorway. ‘I’ll get my bonnet and shawl. I expect Henri will be waiting for us. The servants fall over themselves to please Duke, which is very annoying because they treat me like a child.’

  Henri was a dour, middle-aged man who clearly disapproved of his young mistress venturing into town on foot. He marched on ahead with a large stick clutched in his hand, as if expecting to be attacked by footpads, but the local population were obviously used to his eccentricities and ignored him. Constance had never heard of the cobbler Jean Joubert, but Henri knew where to find him and they went to the shop, only to discover that Byron had left an hour ago. Nettie suggested that they try the market square and then the barge. Henri said nothing but led on, glancing over his shoulder every so often as if to make sure they were following him.

  The market square was still busy, but there was no sign of Byron and so they headed for the river. As expected, they found the barge guarded by a gendarme, who eyed them suspiciously as they walked past for a second time.

  ‘Keep going,’ Constance hissed when Nettie hesitated.

  ‘All my worldly goods are on the barge. If I leave them I’ll have nothing but the clothes I’m wearing now.’

  ‘We’re about the same size. I have more gowns than I can ever wear. My allowance has always been very generous.’ Constance smiled at the gendarme as they strolled by, and he responded with a broad grin.

  ‘He likes you,’ Nettie said urgently. ‘You could explain that I was just a passenger on the barge. There’s something on board that I value more than gowns and shoes.’

  Constance came to a halt, staring at her in astonishment. ‘Really? What could be more impor
tant than one’s appearance?’

  ‘Just a few notes I’d written,’ Nettie said vaguely. ‘But I’d like to keep them.’

  ‘Is it a journal? Do you write down everything that occurs daily?’

  ‘No, it’s not that.’ Nettie walked on. ‘It doesn’t matter. This must get sorted quickly. I expect Aristide will talk himself out of trouble, and Pa, too. I just need to find Byron – he’ll be worried about me.’

  ‘What does he look like?’ Constance tugged at Nettie’s arm. ‘Is he tall with a mop of fair hair and bright blue eyes?’

  ‘That sounds like him,’ Nettie said vaguely as she turned to follow Constance’s gaze. ‘Yes, you’re right.’ She broke into a run. ‘Byron. Where have you been?’

  ‘Where have you been?’ he countered. ‘I’ve been searching for you for hours.’

  ‘Do you know what happened to Pa and Aristide? Have you been to the gendarmerie?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, I thought it best not to get involved, at least until we know what the charges are. Even when we know, there’s precious little we can do. We haven’t the funds to hire a lawyer.’

  ‘Do you think it’s that serious?’ Nettie asked urgently, but Byron was gazing over her shoulder. ‘Who is that?’

  Constance glided up to them, smiling and fluttering her eyelashes. ‘So this is Byron.’ She held out her hand. ‘I’m Constance.’

  ‘I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.’ Byron shook her hand. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’

  Henri was standing close behind Constance and he cleared his throat noisily. She turned on him, frowning, and issued an abrupt order that made him back away.

  ‘This isn’t helping Pa and Aristide,’ Nettie said impatiently. ‘And I need to collect some of my things.’

  Byron shot a wary glance at the gendarme. ‘Maybe they’ll let us stay on board.’

  ‘There’s plenty of room at the château,’ Constance said calmly. ‘We would enjoy your company and Duke will find a good lawyer to speak up for Mr Carroll and Aristide.’