The Westminster Intrigue, page 16
"Do you think she was sharing it with anyone else?"
"I wouldn't be surprised, but things played out to our advantage. I doubt anyone was paying her as much as I was at that point. It helps to have a generous purse to fund one's agents. She also got me some quite good intelligence on the League."
"Did you know she may have been Alistair's mistress?" Malcolm asked.
Hubert took off his spectacles, folded them, put them back on. "Oh yes." He settled the sidepieces over his ears. "I asked her to get close to him."
"You—" Malcolm stared at his former spymaster.
"Don't turn prudish, Malcolm. It's not as though you've never set an agent to seduce someone. And Alistair wasn't your father. Or loyal to your mother."
"No." Malcolm sat back in his chair. "I'm not surprised you did it. I am a bit surprised Alistair didn't tumble to it."
"Yes, so am I." Hubert's brows drew together. "I don't know for a certainty that he didn't, of course, though Danielle told me she was certain he hadn't. She'd have been difficult to deceive, yet Alistair might have pulled it off. But Alistair never blocked any of the information I got from her."
Malcolm folded his arms across his chest. "Why did you do it?"
"Why? Good God, Malcolm, surely that's obvious. You're the League's enemy as much as I am."
"The League have targeted my family. Set a spy in my house, tried to blackmail my wife and stepmother, tried to kill my father. You were running British intelligence. Just after Bonaparte had fallen. When the Continent was being remade. Surely you had more important concerns than the Elsinore League."
Hubert capped his pen. "And surely you realize the number of agents and missions I run. Just because I set Danielle to spy on Alistair didn't mean I didn't have many other agents conducting other missions."
"No, but even granted the League are a threat—certainly not a threat I'd discount—I've never quite understood your level of interest in them. Especially given that their interests and yours often align."
"They'd stab anyone in the back. Or anything."
Malcolm sat back in his chair. "That sounds like someone else I know."
Hubert adjusted his spectacles. "It's not the people they attack that concern me as much as the institutions. They may not be Radicals, but in pursuit of their interests they don't care what they smash. They don't see that those very institutions are what keeps the world from the chaos they themselves fear."
Malcolm folded his arms across his chest. "At another time, I might make a case for chaos. Or argue how resistance to change is more likely to produce it. But instead—what particular chaos were you concerned about Alistair causing when you set Danielle Darnault to seduce him?"
Carfax swung his feet up onto the desktop. "Two and a half years ago, Trenchard was angling to be made prime minister."
"Did Alistair support him?" Malcolm realized he'd never been clear on that. Alistair had been killed before they had uncovered Trenchard's plot to become prime minister—by which point Trenchard himself had been murdered. It had been a chaotic few months, to say the least, both personally and politically. Malcolm had learned the truth about Mélanie and Raoul just before. And Malcolm hadn't been sharing information with Hubert—quite the reverse—because he hadn't known Hubert knew the truth about Mélanie, and had been desperately afraid of the consequences if Hubert had learned. A fear which had proved well founded. Funny how they had in a sense got past that. To the point where they were sitting strategizing across Hubert's desk. Save that it was a different desk, in a different house.
"That's part of what I wanted to discover," Hubert said. "In point of fact, when I set Danielle Darnault to try to get close to Alistair, I didn't know quite what he and Trenchard were planning. Only that it was something significant and close to home. Danielle managed to intercept some correspondence between Alistair and Trenchard. Their plot was in the very early stages then. But there definitely was a plot, and becoming prime minister was Trenchard's goal. And according to Danielle Darnault, Alistair was very much working in support of Trenchard's actions. In fact, I think Alistair saw himself as being a significant power behind the scenes."
"Trenchard was no puppet."
"No, but Alistair could run rings round even him. Alistair was a lot of things, but he was no fool. If they'd succeeded, I suspect they'd have fallen out, but they were allies at the time. Easier to make alliances in taking power than in keeping it, as many have found, including Napoleon Bonaparte."
Malcolm drummed his fingers on the chair arm. "Danielle Darnault was involved with Trenchard as well."
"Yes." Hubert turned to a console table that held a set of decanters, poured two glasses of sherry, and pushed one across the desk to Malcolm.
"You were behind that as well?" Malcolm asked.
"Given the League's activities, seduction was an obvious way to gather intelligence on them." Hubert took a drink of sherry.
"The League must have known she was an agent."
"Oh, yes. They thought she was working for them. But I flatter myself I paid better."
Malcolm picked up his glass but didn't drink. "All of this is round the time Trenchard got Laura established in our household."
"Yes." Hubert took another drink of sherry. "It was."
Laura, now Malcolm's stepmother and one of the people he loved and trusted best, had spied on them in their household for over a year. The first year of their daughter Jessica's life. "Alistair was behind that?"
"Surely you know the answer," Hubert said.
"Only that Laura was reporting to Trenchard." Laura's past association with Trenchard, her first husband's father, was not something Malcolm had any intention of sharing, no matter how much they might at present be allies.
"You know as much as I do," Hubert said. "Alistair and Trenchard are both dead. And I didn't know Laura had been working for the League until after you did."
Malcolm held his former spymaster's gaze. "That isn't one of the secrets Danielle Darnault ferreted out?"
"My dear Malcolm. I'd have told you."
"Would you? We weren't precisely allies."
"You were still working for me. At least officially, and I flatter myself you hadn't gone completely rogue."
"No." Malcolm tossed down a drink of sherry. "I didn't have the guts to, more's the pity."
"Well, then. It would have been a risk to me for you to have had a League agent in your house. Was a risk to me."
Malcolm looked into the pale depths of the sherry. "I've always wondered why Trenchard went to such lengths to spy on us. I suppose there's a certain logic to Alistair's having been behind it, but given the entire lack of interest he showed in me, I find that a bit puzzling as well."
Hubert twisted the stem of his glass in his fingers. "Far be it from me to claim to understand Alistair, but I believe he appreciated your understanding."
Malcolm stared across the desk at Hubert, his own glass clutched in his fingers. "But I didn't even know about the League at that point."
"He may have wanted to be sure he'd know if you did find out. And he knew Mélanie was the Raven."
Malcolm shifted in his chair. Even now, with Mel pardoned and their new alliance with Hubert, his skin crawled a bit when it came to discussing Mélanie's past with his former spymaster. "Supposedly, a lot of the League weren't happy with Trenchard's trying to become prime minister."
"So I've heard."
Malcolm took a drink of sherry. He'd have preferred whisky, but it supplied a welcome jolt. "Was that the beginning of the schism in the League?"
"I don't know." Hubert's brows drew together in seemingly genuine puzzlement. "Though it makes a certain sense. According to Danielle Darnault, Alistair and Trenchard were very secretive about their plans."
Malcolm took another drink of sherry. "Had Alexander Radford appeared then?"
"Not that I've been able to tell. But it's possible Radford took advantage of a schism that had already developed within the League. From my knowledge of the League, they've had disagreements before, but nothing as serious as the one over Trenchard's plans to become prime minister or the one that exists now."
"And then Trenchard went on with his plans—seemingly on his own—after Alistair was killed." Malcolm took another drink of sherry. It had a surprising bite. "Did Trenchard have anything to do with Alistair's death?"
Hubert reached for the decanter and refilled both their glasses. His hand appeared steady. "As you ably proved, Dewhurst had Alistair and Harleton killed. To protect the fact that they'd learned he wasn't the rightful earl."
"Funny how far people will go to protect titles."
Hubert set the decanter back on the console table. The cut glass flashed in the lamplight. "I never went that far."
"No, even I'd say you're better than Dewhurst. And I know that's the story of why Alistair and Harleton were killed. The one we've all been following."
Hubert's fingers froze on the stopper of the decanter for a moment. "You don't believe it?"
"I've always wondered if there was more to it. If Alistair would really have brought down Dewhurst. If Dewhurst was really able to outwit Alistair. I can see Dewhurst's killing Harleton. Alistair would be more difficult to outwit."
Hubert took a drink of sherry. "Dewhurst is a lot of things, most of them despicable, but he's no fool. And even clever people can miscalculate."
Malcolm turned his glass in his fingers. "So Danielle Darnault may not just know who Alexander Radford is. She may know how he's entangled with the League and what other members of the League are plotting."
"Possibly."
"And then later—or presumably later—Danielle Darnault became involved with Alexander Radford."
"Yes. That's interesting."
"It's not clear from the papers we saw when she met him. He could well have sought her out because of her past with Alistair and Trenchard. But what if Radford's been about far longer than we thought? What if he wanted her to get close to Alistair and Trenchard?"
"I told you I was behind that."
"That doesn't mean Alexander Radford couldn't be taking advantage of it." Malcolm watched the lamplight warm the sherry. "All these months we've been wondering who was trying to take over the League. And then who Alexander Radford is. And a woman may have been sitting in a house in Marylebone with all the answers."
"Possibly. Though there's no guarantee she'll share them with us."
"You never thought to ask her?"
"I thought I knew what she knew about the League. I thought her interactions with them were in the past." Hubert tossed down the last of his sherry. "Not for the first time, I was wrong." He reached for the decanter. "What does Gisèle know about this?"
Malcolm's fingers tightened round the stem of his glass. His sister Gisèle, who was undercover with the League, was Hubert's daughter, though Gisèle and Hubert had only learned the truth less than two years ago. "She told us the exchange was happening tonight," Malcolm said. "She didn't know what the League were trying to buy, let alone anything about Danielle Darnault."
"You mean she said she didn't." Hubert refilled their glasses.
Malcolm took a drink of sherry. "A point. But I don't see why Gelly would lie about that. She's not quite so byzantine as you."
Hubert grimaced. "These memoirs of Danielle's make Blayney's death and your investigation far more dangerous. You must see that. Particularly now. Whoever has the memoirs could attempt to impact the outcome of the case against the queen."
"You have a high opinion of the integrity of the House of Lords."
"Don't be clever, Malcolm. It wouldn't take that many. My God, if this farce of a trial is proof of anything it's proof of the embarrassment that can come from dirty linen being aired in public." Hubert frowned. "Literally dirty linen, in the case of some of the testimony. All it would take is a few men not willing to put themselves through that to swing the case either way."
"I take your point." Malcolm moved back to his chair. "Given that we're on opposite sides, I fail to see why that should make me inclined to assist you."
"My dear Malcolm. Are you telling me you want to win based on blackmail? Perhaps my character reading of you has been wrong all these years."
"My dear Hubert." It was still hard to say the name, yet Malcolm found a certain satisfaction in doing so. "Are you telling me you wouldn't stoop to using the memoirs to win influence for your side if you came into possession of them?"
"Blackmail's a messy business. It's inclined to spawn unintended consequences. You know what I think of those."
Malcolm sank further back into his chair. "Tell me you've never employed it."
"That would be foolish, given that you know perfectly well I have. It doesn't mean I would do so on this occasion." Hubert pushed his spectacles up. "I'm hardly enamored of the king's case."
"You're enamored of stability, and you don't want to aid the Radicals."
"Do you think the queen's success would lead to victory for the Radicals?"
"The question seems to be whether you think it would. I've seen the lengths to which you're willing to go. I didn't want you to have the papers the League were dealing last June, and I don't want you to have these."
"And I'd understand, if it were just a question of the queen's case." Hubert sat back in his chair. "But the League aren't selling these particular papers. Quite the opposite, they're one of the possible buyers."
"The League have always dealt in blackmail. I imagine they could do a great deal with the memoirs."
"Possibly. But most of those being asked to buy them are subjects in the memoirs. Which raises the question of whether the memoirs reveal damaging information about the League."
"Are you saying I should deliver the memoirs to you to strike a blow at the League?" Malcolm asked.
"I'm saying we have a common interest in seeing what's in them."
"And once we examine them?"
"If they reveal something about the League, we make use of it."
"Blackmail them in turn?"
"My dear Malcolm. Would you be above blackmailing the League?"
"That would depend on the information. And the collateral damage."
"To Danielle Darnault?" Hubert said. "She's behind the whole thing."
"To anyone caught up in the story. And we don't know Danielle Darnault's role."
"You can't think she's an innocent." Hubert shook his head. "But then you've always had protective instincts when it comes to female agents."
"Most of the women agents I know don't need protecting and wouldn't thank me for it. But they have helped me see that there's often more than one side to a question."
"Among other things, those papers reveal who Alexander Radford is. That could be the key to unraveling what's going on in the League now."
"Don't imagine I'm not well aware of that." Malcolm scraped back his chair.
"Malcolm." They might be in a different room with a different desk, and Hubert might no longer be Lord Carfax, but that was the voice of the spymaster Malcolm had known since childhood and worked with for over a decade. "You'll find these memoirs."
"I'll make every effort to do so."
"And you'll share them with me."
Malcolm turned back, one hand gripping the chair back. "Surely you realize that depends, sir."
"On what?" Hubert's voice was taut. "These aren't a lady's private love letters. You can't return them to their rightful owner. Danielle Darnault clearly isn't to be trusted with them."
"That has yet to be seen. We don't know Danielle Darnault's role in this. But I agree the memoirs aren't the same as private correspondence. And that they pose a danger in a number of hands. Including yours."
Hubert sat back in his chair and gripped his hands together. "So what do you intend to do with them if—when—you recover them?"
Malcolm permitted himself a small smile. "I haven't yet decided. I'll keep you apprised as seems appropriate. Good day, sir."
Chapter 18
Malcolm returned to the Berkeley Square house to see a familiar beaver hat and pair of doeskin gloves on the console table in the hall. The library door was ajar and lamplight spilled through. Relief shot through Malcolm for more than one reason. He went into the library to see Raoul by the library table, scanning a note.
"Father." Malcolm pulled the door to behind him. "Thank God."
Raoul looked up with a quick smile, the note still in his hands. "That's quite a greeting." His gaze shifted over Malcolm's face. "Is it something specific?"
"I'm always glad when you return, but yes." Malcolm moved to the table. "Laura took the children to the park, and Mel's out with Julien and Kitty. Cordy and Harry and Archie and Frances were here, but they've gone because of Cordy's ball tonight. We're in the midst of a new investigation."
"Laura says so in her note"—Raoul indicated the paper in his hand—"though she doesn't offer details."
They moved to the fire. Valentin brought in coffee, and while Raoul poured, Malcolm explained about their expedition to the Chat Gris and James Blayney.
"Good God." Raoul put a coffee in Malcolm's hand. "I picked the wrong time to be gone."
"We've been managing, but it's good to have you back." Malcolm took a drink of coffee. "What do you know about Danielle Darnault?"
"I know of her. I never worked with her. I was in Spain much of the time she was active, and then I was preoccupied with saving my agents after Waterloo, so an agent for hire seemed risky to employ. They might be paid more to betray you to the opposite side. I saw her on stage—she has a magnificent voice—and once or twice at the Salon des Etrangers and other places in Paris. I may have crossed paths with her other times when she was so well in disguise I didn't recognize her."
"Hubert just admitted she worked for him."
"That's not surprising."
"And that he set her to seduce Alistair and Trenchard."
Raoul raised his brows. "That shouldn't be surprising. But—"
"Yes." Malcolm said. "I was shocked too, and then wondered at my own reaction." He reached for his cup and felt his fingers tighten round the handle. "So much has changed in the past three years. I forget sometimes that it hasn't really been that long since Alistair left us—since Alistair was killed." He looked at Raoul. "Do you believe Dewhurst killed him?"
