by Dilly Court
‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But she’s never tried to contact me.’
Nettie clasped his hand. ‘What will you do?’
‘I have to find her. I want to hear her side of the story. Can you understand that, Nettie?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, of course. You must do what you have to do, Byron.’
‘I won’t leave until I know that you and your father are safe.’
‘I can’t rest until I know what’s happening at the trial.’ Nettie released his hand and rose to her feet. ‘I’m going to the court house, regardless of what Duke had to say.’
‘Are you sure that’s wise?’
‘Probably not, but I can’t stay here and do nothing.’
‘Then I’m coming with you.’
‘No, I don’t think that’s a good idea, Byron. Perhaps you could stay and tell Constance where I’ve gone. If things go wrong I don’t want her to be involved.’
With her shawl wrapped around her head and shoulders, Nettie edged her way into the crowded court room, taking a seat at the back where her presence would be least likely to cause comment. Duke was seated at the front, together with a man she assumed must be his lawyer, but they had their backs to her, which was a relief. She knew that Duke would be furious if he discovered that she had disobeyed his instructions to remain in the château. She realised that she was attracting covert glances, and she was beginning to doubt the wisdom of her decision as the proceedings began and she could not understand a word. However, she tried to look as though she was following the case and she stood when everyone else rose to their feet and sat down again when they did. Aristide was brought before the magistrate, but a latecomer edged onto the bench beside her and she moved along as far as she could in an attempt to make room for him.
The rank smell of unwashed maleness made her want to retch, but when she turned her head to glance at her neighbour she stifled a gasp of dismay. Her first instinct on recognising Samson Wegg was to leave the building, but such a move would draw even more unwelcome attention to herself and might even interrupt the proceedings. She could hear Aristide blustering and probably proclaiming his innocence, but the prosecuting lawyer produced a list, and she had seen for herself how generous Aristide had been with the cargo entrusted to his care. Then Duke’s lawyer stood up and with much gesticulating and theatrical intonation of his plummy voice, he put his case. Nettie was impressed by his performance: she might not understand much of the language, but in a theatrical manner he managed to give the impression that Aristide was a much maligned man.
‘I dunno what the toff is saying,’ Wegg whispered, ‘but I’ve sent a cable to London informing the police that Dexter and your dad are here. They’ll both end up in the clink, and good riddance.’
Heads turned and people hissed angrily. Wegg subsided on his seat, but the self-satisfied grin remained on his face. Nettie sat as if turned to stone. She had little option but to remain where she was while the case dragged on. Her father was brought before the magistrate and Nettie was quick to notice that he was unshaven and his clothes were creased. He looked pale and tired, and she hated to see him in such a state, especially when he had always taken such trouble over his appearance. He might be weak, but he was not a bad man, and if his talent had been truly appreciated he would never have become involved with Duke Dexter, and she would not be sitting in a foreign court room next to Samson Wegg. In any event, her father had nothing to do with Aristide’s racket, and she could only hope that Duke’s lawyer was hammering home that point.
Suddenly everyone rose to their feet and it appeared that the session had ended, although Nettie was still none the wiser. She glanced at Wegg and felt a twinge of satisfaction when she realised that he was equally baffled. Everyone was talking, people had begun to leave, and Nettie took the opportunity to slip past Wegg and escape outside into the warm spring sunshine. She headed up the hill to the château, glancing over her shoulder every so often in case he was following, but there was no sign of him.
Byron was waiting beneath the flowering cherry trees in the château garden. ‘Well? What happened?’
‘I don’t know exactly, but I was right about Wegg. He sat next to me in the court room, and he said he’d informed the police in London that we’re here.’
‘You should have let me come with you. I’d have dealt with that fellow.’
‘Thank you, but it’s probably just as well you weren’t involved. Anyway, the case didn’t seem to be concerned with Duke’s swindles, it was Aristide who was in the dock.’
‘Constance will be relieved, although she was a bit put out because you didn’t ask her to go with you. Anyway, she calmed down when I explained why you went on your own.’
‘I don’t think she’s quite grasped the fact that Duke is a criminal. She’s known him since she was a child, and she still thinks of him as her protector. I don’t know what she would do if he went to prison.’
‘She has all this,’ Byron said with a sweep of his hand. ‘She can be miserable in comfort.’
‘Trust you to say something like that, but I wouldn’t want to live here on my own,’ Nettie said with a reluctant smile.
‘She has a small army of servants to look after her.’
Nettie glanced over his shoulder. ‘She’s coming. What shall I say to her?’
‘Tell her the truth.’
Constance hurried up to them. ‘You should have told me you were going to the court, Nettie. I’ve as much right to be there as anyone.’
‘I’m sorry, but I knew that Duke would be angry with me for disobeying him, and he would be furious if you’d been there, too. The case was all about Aristide.’
Constance tossed her head. ‘Of course it was. Now maybe you’ll believe me when I tell you that Duke is an honest art dealer.’
‘You’re deluding yourself, Constance. Samson Wegg was there today, and he told me that he’s informed the police about Duke and my father. It’s not safe for us to stay here.’
‘If what you say is true, I’ve been taken for a fool,’ Constance said wearily. ‘If Duke had been honest with me in the first place I doubt if I’d have agreed to marry him.’
‘It didn’t sound as though you had much choice. Duke can be very persuasive, as my father has found out to his cost. I don’t care what happens to Duke Dexter, but I do care about my pa.’
Byron laid his hand on Nettie’s shoulder. ‘I’ll go into the town and find out what’s happening. I need to speak to my uncle anyway.’ He walked off along the tree-lined avenue and let himself out into the street.
‘I wish I’d stayed in Paris,’ Constance said, sighing. ‘I should have stood up to Duke and refused to leave my home.’
‘I think he tried to do what’s right for you.’ Nettie made an effort to sound positive, but she could see that Constance was on the brink of tears. Wegg had made a difficult position even worse, but Nettie had experienced many catastrophes brought about by her father’s inability to live within his means. Enduring a precarious existence had toughened her, to an extent, but that did not make her oblivious to the feelings of others. She could see that Constance was struggling to come to terms with the sudden turn of events, and she linked arms with her.
‘We can’t do anything until we know what the magistrate decided about Aristide and my pa. Duke will know how to handle Wegg, so we’ll just have to wait and see what he says.’
Constance dabbed her eyes on her handkerchief. ‘I don’t want him to go to prison, Nettie. And it’s not purely for selfish reasons. I am fond of Duke in my own way, and he can be very kind and amusing when he wants to be. But if he should be caught and sent to prison in England, I’ll be forced to live here in seclusion like a grieving wife. I’m too young to be shut up within these stone walls. I’d be just as much a prisoner as Duke.’
‘Maybe it won’t come to that,’ Nettie said hopefully.
‘Well, I’m not staying here. Duke must learn that I have a mind of my own, and if he chooses to run away h
e’ll have to take me with him. I’m ready for an adventure.’
The carpet of pink petals from the cherry trees swirled around their feet as they walked towards the château and prepared to wait for news.
Constance had been pacing the floor impatiently while Nettie sat on the window seat, but she rose to her feet as the door opened and Byron burst into the room, followed by Duke, Robert and Aristide.
‘Well?’ Constance demanded, standing arms akimbo. ‘Is it true that you lied to me about your past, Duke?’
He kissed her absently on the forehead. ‘I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time before the police arrive from London. Wegg has done his bit, although I dare say he regrets it now.’
‘What happened?’ Nettie looked from one to the other. ‘What did you do to him?’
Byron flexed his knuckles. ‘I’ve never been much of a fighter, but that chap got what he deserved.’
‘Have you killed him?’ Constance asked eagerly.
‘No, but he’ll have a sore head for a day or two.’ Byron shot a wary glance in Nettie’s direction. ‘I’m not normally a violent man, as you know, but I made an exception in Wegg’s case.’
‘He’s a hateful character,’ Nettie said with feeling. ‘But there’s one thing that puzzles me.’ She turned to Duke, fixing him with an enquiring gaze. ‘What did you do to make Wegg hate you so much? Is it true about his sister?’
‘It was all a ridiculous misunderstanding.’ Duke strolled over to a side table and poured himself a tot of brandy.
‘Go on,’ Nettie said determinedly. ‘Tell us more.’
‘Yes,’ Constance added. ‘I want the truth, Duke.’
He shrugged and looked away, sipping his drink. ‘Wegg’s sister was a servant in my household. I had to dismiss her because of her behaviour, and Wegg hasn’t forgiven me.’
‘That doesn’t sound like a good reason to pursue someone and try to ruin them,’ Robert said thoughtfully.
‘It’s true that the girl died in childbirth. Wegg is convinced that I was the father – utter nonsense, of course. He’s an idiot, but a dangerous one.’
‘It wasn’t true, was it?’ Constance asked anxiously. ‘I must know.’
‘You know me better than that, my dear. Would I treat a woman in that way? Have I ever behaved badly to you?’
Constance shook her head. ‘No, Duke, of course not.’
‘I’m glad we have that settled.’ Duke tossed back the remains of his drink. ‘Thanks to Wegg’s interference I have to leave immediately, but you’ll be safe here. I’ve put money in the bank to keep you in comfort for the foreseeable future.’
‘No, you don’t, Duke,’ Constance said angrily. ‘You’re not abandoning me to live alone in this creepy château. I’m coming with you.’
‘You’ll have Nettie to keep you company,’ Duke said hopefully.
‘You’ll look after each other.’ Robert slipped his arm around Nettie’s shoulders. ‘I have to go as well, my dear. I hope you understand.’
‘I agree with Constance,’ Nettie said firmly. ‘You got yourselves into trouble, but it affects us also. We’re both coming with you.’
‘But, Nettie, we don’t know where we’re going. It might be dangerous.’
‘I’ve accompanied you on all your flights from angry creditors and landlords. I’m not going to let you abandon me now, Pa.’
Aristide sank down on the nearest chair. ‘Thanks to the duke I am a free man and my barge is at your disposal, although it will be rather crowded.’ He looked from one to the other, grinning widely. ‘It is the least I can do for my friends who have stood by me in my time of trouble.’
‘Thank you, Aristide.’ Duke moved to a side table and picked up a decanter. ‘You’re very kind, but I think we might be caught too easily should we take up your offer.’ He poured a measure of brandy for each and handed them round. ‘We’ll leave immediately. Pack your bags, taking necessities only,’ he added, staring pointedly at Constance.
‘You mean I can come with you?’ she asked eagerly.
‘I don’t seem to have much choice.’ Duke smiled and raised his glass. ‘We’re all in this together, thanks to Wegg and a quirk of fate.’
‘Here’s to freedom.’ Byron joined in the toast. ‘I don’t know where you’re going, Duke, but I’m headed for Spain.’
‘Are you sure that’s where your mother is living now?’ Nettie asked anxiously.
‘It’s all I have to go on, but find her I will.’ Byron reached out to take her hand in his. ‘Will you come with me, Nettie?’
Chapter Nine
The idea of travelling to Spain fired Nettie’s imagination. Duke decided that it was an ideal place to lie low, and he was convinced that the Metropolitan Police would not venture that far. Virtually penniless and dependent on Duke’s charity, Robert was not in a position to argue, and Constance seemed eager to move on.
The only person who had been openly disappointed by Duke’s decision was Aristide, who said that he could not simply abandon his barge and the people who depended upon him. He grew quite tearful when Nettie said goodbye and kissed him on the cheek. Robert slapped him on the back, promising to return to Paris one day in the not-too-distant future, when they would share a bottle of cognac in the bargees’ café. Byron added his thanks and they piled into Duke’s carriage. Nettie leaned out of the window, waving until Aristide disappeared from view, and she wiped away a tear. Aristide had been good to them and she would miss him, but now they were heading back to Paris and the start of yet another long train journey.
Despite the fact that they were supposed to be keeping a low profile, Duke insisted on travelling first class. At the start they were all tense and found it difficult to relax, but gradually the mood changed and their journey took on the spirit of a holiday rather than a desperate escape from the law. Nettie sat in the corner of the railway carriage and watched the countryside flash past the windows with a feeling of relief. Every mile travelled put more distance between them and the police, and Wegg in particular. She could only hope that, having done his worst, he had returned to England and was pursuing another victim.
The sky darkened and Nettie slept fitfully, her head resting against Byron’s shoulder. The clickety-clack of the iron wheels drummed in her ears even as she slumbered, and in her dreams she was flying low over the railway tracks like a bird. She awakened at first light and her whole body was cramped and aching, but it was the beginning of a new day and the start of an adventure into the unknown. She experienced a frisson of excitement: anything could happen.
They changed trains at Avignon and began the last leg of their journey to Perpignan. After almost twenty-four hours of rail travel it was a relief to be back on solid ground. Duke booked them into a small hotel in the town, and that night they had a decent meal followed by a bath in a tin tub. Constance demanded to go first, and Nettie waited patiently for her turn. Tomorrow they would set off once again and the long and arduous journey would continue.
Duke had warned them that it was going to be hard going, and it was. He had hired a guide and horses to take them over the Pyrenees into Spain, but Nettie and Constance were not experienced riders and their progress was slow. Robert had once owned a horse and knew how to ride, but Byron had only ever travelled by omnibus or hansom cab, and he struggled at first to control his mount. They stayed at small wayside inns and on one occasion they had to sleep in a goatherd’s hut, but after several days of constant travel, they reached the small coastal town where Byron’s mother was said to reside.
Tired, dusty and with every muscle in her body aching from the long ride over rough terrain, Nettie shielded her eyes against the brilliant light and the dazzling reflection of the sun on the ultramarine sea, studded with tiny islands. Nets were laid out to dry on the silver sand, and fishing boats bobbed gently at anchor. It was mid-afternoon, the small town seemed to drowse in the heat, and there was no sound apart from the gentle lapping of the waves on the shore. It was all so different from the
greyness and general filth that clad the streets of Covent Garden. The town square was quaint and quiet at this time of day. Bougainvillaea tumbled down the stark white walls of the civil offices in a vivid splash of purple blossom. An old man slept on a wooden bench beneath a stand of trees, his hat tipped over his face, his gnarled hands resting on his faded smock, and his mongrel dog curled up at his feet.
Nettie felt as though she had been transported to another world far removed from the dusty streets of London or Paris. Here, in this quiet coastal town, the road and beach merged into one long strip of silver sand, and a narrow side street wandered up the hillside and disappeared into a pine forest. Directly ahead was a terrace of stone cottages, an inn and a small white church with a bell tower. Duke left them to make enquiries at the inn and returned moments later with the news that he had booked the only three rooms available.
‘I’ll have the smallest one,’ he said importantly. ‘Robert, you and Byron will have to share.’
Robert shrugged. ‘I hope you won’t snore as you did on the train, Byron.’
‘I can’t promise anything.’ Byron slid from the saddle and stretched, yawning. ‘I don’t care where I lay my head, just as long as it’s clean and reasonably comfortable.’
‘I’m sure you won’t mind sharing with Nettie,’ Duke said, giving Constance an encouraging smile. ‘You must be exhausted, both of you.’
‘I’m not too tired. I was just beginning to feel at home in the saddle.’ Nettie dismounted and stroked the horse’s neck, and the animal nuzzled her affectionately. ‘We’ve become good friends, haven’t we, boy?’
‘I’m so stiff I can hardly move.’ Constance held her arms out and Duke lifted her to the ground.
‘I can’t guarantee a warm bath, but the rooms are clean.’ Duke handed the reins to a young boy who had emerged from the stables at the side of the inn. ‘They don’t speak English or French, but the landlord seems a friendly sort of fellow.’
‘I don’t know how I’m going to find my mother if no one can understand me.’ Byron surrendered his horse to the boy, who had summoned a friend to help him lead all the animals to the stables.
