Nettie's Secret

by Dilly Court

  ‘I think there will be trouble before the evening is out,’ she said in a low voice.

  ‘Never mind Duke, you look beautiful, Nettie.’

  She felt the colour rise to her cheeks, but she eyed him suspiciously. ‘How much wine have you drunk, Byron?’

  He laughed. ‘I’m quite sober. You should learn to take a compliment.’

  ‘You and the boys were always teasing me, so I never know when you’re serious.’ She clutched his arm, staring over his shoulder. ‘Look, that man is breathing fire.’

  Byron turned his head just as the man, dressed like a medieval court jester, held a lighted torch in front of his face and blew a plume of flames into the air. Lisette clapped her hands and a cheer went up amongst the spectators, which turned into a cry of dismay as one of the pine branches caught fire. A plump woman wearing a wimple screamed and grabbed the hand of a man who had been capering around, playing a tabor pipe, while another man, dressed in a toga, beat time on a tambori. The music ceased abruptly and there were shouts for the servants, who rushed out to fetch water. Byron leaped forward and dragged the burning bough to the floor, where he stamped upon it accompanied by cheers from the excited onlookers.

  Lisette rushed over to embrace him. ‘Thank you, querida. We might have burned to death had it not been for your quick thinking.’ She turned to her guests, smiling bravely. ‘No harm is done. We’ll forgo the tableau and take our seats at the table.’ She beckoned to Diego, who was standing stiffly by the door. ‘We will dine now.’

  The fire eater had retired to a corner and was sitting there with his head in his hands being scolded by one of the Three Graces, whose shrill voice sounded more like that of a fishwife than a celestial being. Lisette uttered a sharp rebuke and they took their places at the table.

  Nettie sat next to Byron. He had distanced himself from his mother and brother, and she knew him well enough to understand why he was holding back. Putting herself in a similar position, Nettie could imagine how difficult it would be to find a long-lost family – to be a part of them and yet feel like a stranger in their midst. She gave his hand a comforting squeeze, and he responded with a grateful smile.

  ‘Your pa has just edged Don Julio out of the way and has taken his place at my mother’s side,’ Byron said in a low voice. ‘It seems that some men find her irresistible.’

  ‘Don’t judge her too quickly,’ Nettie replied in a whisper. ‘I think it’s all a game to her. Anyway, Don Julio seems to have taken it in good part. He’s concentrating on one of the Three Graces; she’s been trying hard to attract his attention.’

  ‘This place is a madhouse,’ Byron said softly. ‘I’m not sure I can cope with this sort of life. Maybe I should just move on.’

  ‘I need to talk to you,’ Nettie whispered. ‘Meet me on the terrace after dinner.’

  The meal was over but the guests were still seated round the table, drinking and laughing uproariously at jokes that Nettie could not understand. The lady with the wimple had dozed off over her dessert and the pointed hat had slipped over one eye. The fire eater had given up and left the room, leaving the woman who had harangued him to attach herself to Don Julio, who was looking distinctly bored. Nettie managed to slip away unnoticed and let herself out onto the terrace. It was cool beneath the stars and the breeze from the sea rustled the fronds of the palm trees, almost drowning out the song of the cicadas. It was a night made for romance as moonlight etched a silvery pathway on the dark waters of the Mediterranean, and the heady scent of flowers filled the air. Nettie sighed, shaking her head. The castle would have been a paradise had it not been for the past that had a habit of catching up with them wherever they went.

  ‘Nettie.’

  The sound of Byron’s voice made her jump and she turned to see him emerging from the shadows. ‘Did anyone see you leave the party?’ she asked urgently.

  ‘If you mean Duke, no, he was fully occupied. Percy doesn’t seem to understand that Constance is a married woman, and I was expecting Duke to challenge him to a duel at any moment. Is that what you wanted to talk about?’

  ‘No, it’s more serious than that.’ She pulled up a dainty wrought-iron chair and sat down. ‘The painting that Lisette values so highly is a copy. It’s the first one that my father did for Duke, although he had no idea it was to be sold as the original.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Byron leaned against the stone parapet. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I just do. You’ll have to trust me. Anyway, Duke agrees with me.’

  ‘My mother obviously thinks it’s genuine, so why worry? I mean, the deed is done and there’s nothing you can do about it.’

  ‘She’s been kind to us and I hate deceiving her. How can Pa and I stay here, taking advantage of her hospitality when she’s been cheated out of a fortune?’

  ‘I can’t leave yet. You do understand, don’t you, Nettie?’

  ‘I didn’t mean that you have to accompany us. I just think that Pa and I should move on. I don’t know where we could go, or how we will live, but we can’t stay here for ever, and I want to get Pa away from Duke. He’s a bad influence.’

  ‘I can’t disagree with that.’ Byron moved to sit beside her. ‘Nothing has changed except that you’ve discovered a fraud, which was committed some years ago. My mother loves that painting, and that’s what matters. It would only be if she came to sell it that she’d realise she’s been duped, and luckily she seems to be a very wealthy woman, so that eventuality is unlikely to occur. Why not stay and let your father paint her portrait? I’m sure that she’ll pay him handsomely and you’ll have had time to think about the future.’

  ‘It doesn’t alter the fact that she was cheated out of what was probably a small fortune. What would she say if she knew?’

  ‘I can’t speak for her.’ He laid his hand on hers. ‘Nettie, I want to stay here for a while at least. I need to get to know my mother and brother.’

  ‘Of course you do, and I wasn’t thinking of dragging you away from them, Byron. This is your home now. You’ve found the family you thought were lost to you for ever, and that makes me happy.’

  ‘You mean a lot to me, Nettie.’ He withdrew his hand hastily. ‘I mean, we’ve been through so much together and we’re good friends. I don’t want to think of you and your father homeless and alone, which you will be if you keep on running from the law.’

  ‘What do you suggest? Do you want Pa to return to London and give himself up?’

  ‘I haven’t got a clever answer. I don’t know what the outcome will be; all I’m saying is that I want you to stay here while we try to work something out. Duke is the real culprit. He’s the one who has made a fortune from deceiving wealthy clients. I doubt if Robert was the only artist he employed.’

  ‘I know you’re right, and he’s one of the reasons why I think Pa and I ought to get away now. Duke has the ability to make people do what he wants, regardless of whether or not it’s to their advantage.’

  ‘I think he’s met his match with Constance,’ Byron said, chuckling. ‘That young lady has a will of her own.’

  ‘And he said that he’s signed everything over to her in case he went to prison,’ Nettie added, smiling. ‘I think that was his first big mistake.’

  ‘Stay for a while, Nettie. Maybe you and your father could return to London in a few months’ time. I doubt if the police would think Robert Carroll a serious threat to society – it’s Duke they really want.’

  She nodded. ‘I hope that’s the case.’

  ‘So you will stay at least until the portrait is finished?’

  ‘If that’s what Pa wants then I won’t argue.’

  Byron rose to his feet, holding out his hand. ‘Let’s rejoin the party before we’re missed. We might as well enjoy ourselves while we’re here.’

  Robert was allocated a room to use as a studio. It was situated in the older part of the castle where the bare stone walls and flagstone floor kept the heat at a bearable level despite the soaring temperature outside.
He worked on the portrait every day, requiring Lisette to sit for him for several hours at a time. She bored easily and insisted on being entertained, but this often involved the local band, until Robert complained that the reedy sound gave him a headache, making it difficult to concentrate. The lady who had worn the wimple for the tableau turned out to be an opera singer who had fallen on hard times, and Lisette asked her to perform. But Robert said that the high notes of the ageing soprano were painful to his ears, and she too was banished from the studio. In the end Lisette had the grand piano brought from the music room and, surprisingly, the fire eater turned out to be a talented pianist. Robert painted to the thrilling sound of Chopin’s piano concertos, and Lisette was content to sit and listen until she became bored and walked out, leaving Robert to paint from memory. The fire eater went through his entire repertoire until he decided that enough was enough and he, too, left the room, but Robert kept working until the light faded or he was overcome with hunger and fatigue.

  In the meantime Nettie grew used to the life of luxury. She had little to do other than to explore the castle and the grounds, or to take long walks along the cliff top. At other times she strolled through the scented pine forest to the beach, where she watched the fishing boats set sail. The small town was always buzzing with activity, and there was a street market once a week where country folk brought their produce to sell. Nettie and Byron wandered round the stalls, sampling the goods, making small purchases and practising the sentences they had learned in Spanish. Sometimes they were accompanied by Constance and Percy, although Duke refused to walk anywhere. He preferred to ride and went off on his own, leaving early in the morning and returning late in the evening. Nettie wondered where he went, but Constance seemed unconcerned, and it was obvious that she and Percy were growing closer with every passing day. Lisette made no secret of the fact that she disapproved, but Duke looked on with a brooding intensity that made Nettie nervous. She could only hope that either Constance or Percy would grow bored and end the relationship. At least her father was gainfully employed and happy now that he was doing what he loved most. Nettie was the only one who was allowed to view his work, despite Lisette’s constant demands to see the painting.

  Robert chose to ignore his patroness’s tantrums, and the only person who could calm Lisette when she flew into one of her frequent rages was Don Julio. He came and went at will, and Nettie discovered that he had an estate in Andalucía, and, as Father Ignatius told her on one of his frequent visits, Don Julio had a wife and children. The priest’s attempts to reform Lisette failed miserably. She listened to him politely, offered him food and wine, and sent him on his way with a charming smile. Nettie suspected that Father Ignatius enjoyed his battles for Lisette’s eternal soul, and, despite the fact that his attempts were doomed to failure, he was not going to be the one to give in first.

  There had been no repeat of the theatricals they had endured at the beginning of their stay, and the guests who were there at first began to disappear one by one, to be replaced by an odd assortment of characters. Lisette’s main criterion for those who came to stay at the castle was that they should be amusing, and they paid for her hospitality by entertaining the party each evening after dinner. There were recitations by errant poets, dramatic interpretations by out-of-work actors, and performances by a variety of musicians. Dancing was what Lisette seemed to enjoy the most and the nightly revelry usually ended with everyone joining hands in a sardana. Nettie was shy at first, but it was impossible to be a wallflower when all those present took to the floor; everyone, that is, apart from Duke.

  One evening, after a particularly good dinner and a recital on the piano by the fire eater, who had not yet gone on his way, Lisette held up the proceedings, insisting that Duke must stand up with her and take part in the sardana. He refused, but Lisette was insistent, and eventually he was persuaded to take her hand and that of a plump poetess, who fluttered her eyelashes at him. Her attempts to cajole him into a good humour were met with a stony stare, and Duke executed the steps stiffly with a grim expression on his face, but Lisette had had her way, and she was clearly delighted.

  Nettie watched them together with a puzzled frown. Duke largely ignored Constance, and he was clearly smitten by Lisette, but their arguments were heated, especially so when Don Julio was present. In any other circumstances Constance might have assumed the martyred expression of a wronged wife, but she was so involved with Percy that Nettie doubted if her friend had even noticed that Duke was openly flirting with the condesa. Lisette herself simply took the devotion of her admirers for granted, and she treated each of them with the same casual affection that she might have shown an amusing pet dog. When it came to her elder son she was guarded, almost indifferent, as if she were afraid to allow herself to feel any deep emotion for the young man whom she had abandoned as a small child. Nettie could see that Byron was hurt by his mother’s attitude, but at least he seemed to be getting on well with Percy, and, despite the difference in their natures, the brothers shared a similar sense of humour.

  It was Percy’s involvement with Constance that continued to worry Nettie. She could see no happy ending for either of them, but she could not confide in Byron for fear of upsetting the delicate balance between him and his brother. Robert had distanced himself from the rest of the party while he concentrated on finishing the portrait, which he said was his best work yet. He even talked about exhibiting it, and brushed aside Nettie’s concerns about protecting their anonymity. He seemed to think that the police in London would have given up the chase and that they could return home whenever they chose. Nettie was not so sure.

  The days passed pleasantly enough and Nettie was never at a loss for a quiet corner where she could continue to work on her novel. Sometimes she wrote late into the night, sitting up in bed with the soft breeze from the open window caressing her cheeks and ruffling her hair. The story was progressing well enough, but Nettie felt that there was something missing. There was a certain amount of adventure in the tale, little touches of humour and there were descriptions of the landscape of which she was very proud, but somehow it lacked heart. She felt no emotion when she reread the pages that had come from her imagination and she decided to leave it for a while, and come back to it later. Perhaps she was succumbing to the idle life of luxury that the condesa obviously enjoyed. Away from the hurly-burly of London and the constant struggle to survive, Nettie had begun to relax, but she knew in her heart that this was merely an interlude, and it was only a matter of time before the past caught up with them. One day they would be on the run again – whether it was from creditors or the police, it made little difference – life with her father meant being forever on the move.

  Nettie was heading for the dining hall one morning, when she realised that something was missing. The painting of Primavera had been taken down, leaving a shadow of itself on the whitewashed wall. Her heart jolted against her ribcage and she uttered a gasp of dismay. There was no one about and, for once, all was quiet. Many of the guests had left the previous day, although late in the evening Nettie had seen another carriage arrive at the gates. She had paid little attention to the passenger, thinking it to be just another of Lisette’s odd friends, but now his arrival seemed sinister. Her imagination was running riot. What if the well-dressed gentleman was a dealer who had come to value the old master? Beads of perspiration stood out on her brow and her pulse was racing. There was only one way to find out and that was to face Lisette with the question.

  Nettie hurried to the dining hall and she could have cried with relief when she spotted the Botticelli propped up against the wall. Lisette was standing beside it, and, with his back to her, was the stranger who had arrived earlier.

  ‘Condesa,’ Nettie said sharply.

  Lisette turned her head and the man straightened up. Nettie’s hand flew to her mouth as she stifled a cry of dismay.

  ‘What’s the matter, child? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,’ Lisette said, smiling. ‘Did you want something
?’

  Nettie shook her head, at a loss for words. ‘No, I mean, might I have a word with you in private, Condesa?’

  ‘This isn’t a convenient time, Nettie. Go away, there’s a good girl. I’ll speak to you later. I’m sure whatever it is can wait.’

  ‘No, please. You don’t understand. I need to tell you something urgently.’

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘I’m sure it can wait,’ Lisette said icily. ‘Please leave us, Nettie.’

  ‘No, you don’t understand,’ Nettie said, tugging at the condesa’s sleeve. ‘This man is a spy.’

  ‘A spy!’ Lisette stared at her in amazement. ‘What nonsense. Mr Wegg is an art dealer from London.’

  ‘Mr Wegg is an imposter,’ Nettie said angrily. ‘He’s a private detective and he’s been chasing after Pa and Duke since we left London.’

  Lisette turned on Wegg, her eyes flashing. ‘Well, sir. Is this true?’ she demanded. ‘Did you wheedle your way into my home under false pretences?’

  Wegg shrugged. ‘It would seem so, Condesa. But some of your guests are not what they seem. The Metropolitan Police are looking for Duke Dexter and Robert Carroll.’

  ‘What crimes are they supposed to have committed?’

  ‘Forgery, ma’am.’ Wegg pointed to the Botticelli. ‘You’ve been swindled. This here painting is the work of the said Robert Carroll.’

  Lisette stared at him in horror. ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘It’s true. Ask this young woman – she knows full well that this is a fake. Tell her, Miss Carroll.’

  Nettie shot a wary glance at Lisette, who was staring at her, pale-faced and trembling. ‘I’m sorry, Condesa. I don’t know how the painting came into your hands, but I believe it is a copy.’

  ‘What did you hope to get out of this, Mr Wegg?’ Lisette said slowly. ‘You claimed to be an art dealer who was interested in purchasing the painting.’