The Westminster Intrigue, page 18
"I should update Roth," Malcolm said. "Who wants to come with me?"
"Thought you'd never ask." Harry glanced at his wife. "Unless—"
"Oh, by all means, stay and have fun," Cordelia said. "I need to go back home and make sure the champagne is delivered and start seeing to the flowers. What an inconvenient time to have chosen to give a ball."
"On the contrary," Malcolm said. "Just what we need for investigating tonight. Your timing couldn't be more impeccable."
"Well, that's some comfort. I'd much rather be interviewing suspects than arranging flowers."
"I could arrange the flowers," Harry said.
"Thank you, darling. It's a truly heroic offer, but I won't take you up on it." Cordelia grinned. "This time."
Henriette Varon regarded Raoul and Julien across the sofa table in the sitting room of the rooms she shared with her two daughters. So different from the garden at Malmaison, or various salons where Raoul had been accustomed to speak with her. The coffee was the same, though, strong and dark, brewed to perfection. Served in cups of white and dark blue with small gold bees that had been a gift from the Empress Josephine. Whom Henriette had served as seamstress for many years. And whom her daughter Lisette had served as an agent. Raoul still wasn't sure Henriette would ever forgive him for recruiting Lisette.
Henriette and Lisette now exchanged quick glances. "Madame was aware of La Darnault," Henriette said. "But we didn't know a great deal. It was after the divorce."
"Funny," Lisette said. "It used to seem so distinctive that the emperor and empress had been divorced. And now the king and queen may be." She looked at her mother. "There were rumors, though. Just before Danielle Darnault left Paris."
"Yes." Henriette took a careful sip of coffee. "I know even the thought of Bonaparte's fathering another child hurt the empress. She never got over the fact that she hadn't been able to have a child with him herself."
"Did she give any indication Bonaparte had told her as much?" Julien sat forwards in his chair, face unusually intent and free of irony. "She still saw him. He confided in her until the end."
"If he confided in her about Darnault's child, she never told me," Henriette said. "Not that she necessarily would have done."
"I think—" Lisette frowned and set down her coffee. "From something Hortense said, I think it's possible the emperor wasn't sure about the child's parentage himself."
Henriette nodded. "That could be. I do know that at about that time, Bonaparte and Darnault had a falling out. Josephine said a part of her could not but be pleased, because she was still jealous where he was concerned. But at the same time, she pitied Danielle Darnault, because Bonaparte would never trust her again."
“She left Paris for Vienna," Lisette said. "And then she disappeared for a time. Perhaps because she was with child. But Hortense said Bonaparte had admitted he was afraid she was selling information to the British."
Raoul looked at Julien. "Well, that would be just like Uncle Hubert," Julien said. "To admit to Malcolm that he had Danielle spying on Alistair Rannoch, but quite neglect to mention that she was also reporting to him on Napoleon Bonaparte. Assuming she was."
"If she was spying on Bonaparte, and he was the father of her child, that makes for a particularly fraught situation," Henriette said.
"Yes, it could have been why she was particularly secretive about the child." Julien turned his coffee cup in his hand. "Then by the time the child was born, Bonaparte was on Elba and Josephine was dead."
One had to know Julien well to catch the note of grief in his voice. Henriette reached across the table and touched Julien's hand. "Josephine would be glad to see you now. She said once that if you ever married, you'd make a good husband."
Julien gave a whoop of laughter. "I very much doubt she said anything of the sort. Or if she did, it was only because she thought it was so unlikely I'd ever marry that I'd have changed into quite a different person."
"I don't think she thought that at all." Henriette sat back and refilled the coffee. "And I don't believe you've changed so very much."
Chapter 20
Mélanie darted out from behind a plane tree as Colin hurtled towards her in a game of tag-go-seek. Her jaconet flounce caught on a tree branch. She detached it, just in time to avoid a tear, only to have Emily seize the back of her spencer. "Caught you!"
Mélanie grinned. Laura and Kitty had gone to help Cordy with preparations for the ball. She had remained in Berkeley Square and taken the children to the square garden for some exercise, but in truth, the romping in the fresh air cleared her head as well. If the pieces of the investigation hadn't fallen into place, at least she felt better able to approach it.
She shook out her skirt and tugged her rose velvet spencer smooth. "All right, shall we—"
"Someone's coming," Livia Davenport said.
Livia was near the garden gate with Leo Ashford. A tall dark-haired woman in green was approaching the square. Mélanie stepped out of the shade of the trees and put up a hand against the sun. "I think it's Mrs. Haworth."
Pippa Haworth hesitated, her gloved hand on the black metal rail of the Berkeley Square garden gate. She wore a high-crowned green velvet bonnet and a sage green pelisse trimmed in the same velvet and fastened with the frogged clasps that had been so in vogue since the military fervor of the war had reached a crescendo with Waterloo. She had a good modiste, but the ribbons on her bonnet were tied a bit carelessly and the skirt of her pelisse was crushed. She either had the freedom not to be too concerned with her dress—or the wisdom to know that such unconcern only made one more stylish.
"Mrs. Rannoch? I'm sorry, I know this isn't a conventional way to call."
"Do come in." Mélanie scooped up Jessica, who had hurtled into her knees. "You've saved me as I was caught ingloriously."
She introduced the children, who greeted Pippa Haworth with grown-up courtesy, though Timothy Ashford and Drusilla Davenport were dancing on their tiptoes with eagerness to return to the game.
"I need to talk to Mrs. Haworth for bit," Mélanie said. "Livia can score keep."
"New game," Livia said.
Pippa Haworth smiled. "Your children have a wonderful freedom."
"I hope so." Mélanie smoothed her own crushed skirt and moved towards Pippa. "It's one of the things I've tried to give them."
"You're an unusual mother, Mrs. Rannoch. But I think I knew that already."
"I'll take that as a compliment." Mélanie moved to one of the black metal benches.
"It was meant as one."
Pippa dropped down beside Mélanie on the bench. "I'm sorry to interrupt the game."
"I do need a break every now and then." Mélanie tightened the ribbons on her bonnet, which were slipping. "I think you're no stranger to romping with children yourself."
"What makes you say that?"
Mélanie glanced at the moss green sarcenet skirt of Pippa's pelisse. "I've known small hands to crush the fabric of my gowns and pelisses in just that way."
Pippa laughed. "Caught. My sisters would be scandalized. At least, Sophia would. But we were romping in the nursery before I left. Now my husband's gone, there's no one to look askance at it. And in truth, even when he was alive I paid less heed to his opinions than a good wife perhaps should."
"I'm not sure I have the least idea what being a good wife is. But I don't think it means doing everything one's husband approves of. And certainly not if it goes against one's children's welfare."
"Perhaps not." Pippa watched the children a moment longer. "I'm quite in sympathy with the queen. But I own at times I think, 'How can she fight so hard against divorce? It sounds like freedom.'" She cast a sidelong look at Mélanie. "I'm talking quite scandalously. But then I came here to discuss a scandalous topic. As you must suspect."
"I don't know that I'd have used the word scandalous. But I suspect you came here to discuss James Blayney."
Pippa's gaze narrowed. Perhaps, Mélanie thought, in an effort to keep emotion at bay. "I talked to Cordy this morning. But that was a civil chat between friends. Oh, Cordy was frank about the investigation, but in the sense that she was gathering background information from someone on its fringe. But I know you and Lady Carfax called on Sophia today as well."
"Your sister told you?" That would change Mélanie's view of the relationship between the elder Langdon sisters.
Pippa's mouth curled. "Hardly. That would indeed be a sign of a world turned upside down. But my underhousemaid is the sister of her second footman. Their father was the gamekeeper at Pendarves Chase. You know how fast news travels in Mayfair."
"Many of our investigations are built on it."
"Well, then. Knowing my sister, I imagine she told you a number of things. Including that my relationship with Jamie Blayney was more complicated than I admitted to Cordy."
"She did." Mélanie regarded Pippa while the children's carefree shouts carried on the breeze. "We've been debating if she was telling the truth."
"You have a keen understanding, Mrs. Rannoch. So does Lady Carfax, from what I've seen of her. And Cordy, who I imagine is struggling with my having lied to her and her having not seen it. I appreciate that you weighed Sophia's words with a grain of salt. But she was telling the truth. Or at least, some of the truth, assuming she said what I think she did. I was Jamie Blayney's lover. Though I certainly never intended to take him from my sister. As I suspect Sophia claimed."
"She made an allusion of the sort."
Pippa gave a rueful smile. "I suppose it's not surprising. Given our relationship. Given how Sophia seems to feel—to have felt about Jamie. In truth, I think we were both too caught up in our own view of the situation to see the other's very clearly. I know I've never felt Sophia saw me clearly, and I daresay I'm not very clear-eyed when it comes to her. And it's difficult when it comes to Jamie, because we're both so tangled up with him, going back to childhood." She looked across the square garden at the children as they darted between the gnarled plane trees in their game of tag. "I remember all of us playing together when we were your children's age. Jamie and Edmund and the four of us. Jamie was the sort who'd scramble up a tree and step right off into space without any fear of falling. Sometimes he pulled it off with some crazy move. But he fell on his head more than once. As a child, I admired his daring. As a mother, I'm grateful that my children have a bit more common sense."
"Yes," Mélanie said. "It's much easier to give them their freedom knowing they have a bit of common sense."
"Even as a girl, I knew Jamie didn't have any of that. Not that I did myself. But somehow, I had the wit to recognize Jamie as the braggart he was. He was amusing to flirt with—mostly to scandalize my parents, and because he's—he was"—she paused for a moment, the reality of Jamie's loss seeming to sink into her gaze—"a capital dancer. But I never wanted it to become more. Not then. And it was clear if he had a favorite, it was Sophia." She looked at Mélanie again. "How much did Sophia tell you about their relationship?"
"She admitted to the affair. We already knew. From Jamie's brother."
"Oh." Pippa drew a sharp breath. "Yes, Cordy said you'd talked to Edmund. I didn't realize quite how much he knew. Is he—how has he taken Jamie's death?"
"I didn't speak with him, my husband and Inspector Roth did. I understand he was shaken, though he and his brother had not been close of late."
"I'm not sure they ever were." Pippa gripped her elbows. "It's funny. Sophia's always been much more decorous I am, but she was the one Jamie dazzled."
"It's often that way, I think."
"Yes, perhaps. I was never decorous. As Cordy may have told you, even when I made my debut, I had a hard time taking the whole thing seriously. It seemed absurd that one's future depended on dancing, and driving, and paying and receiving calls, and attaching the right gentleman. And yet I couldn't really see a different future. So I went along with it, because what else was I to do? When I married, I found marriage was—I wouldn't say a mistake, because I didn't have high hopes going in. Though I didn't think it would be quite so—dull, I suppose."
"I'm sorry." For all the challenges Mélanie had found in marriage, it had never been dull.
"I really only have myself to blame. I didn't have a great many choices. Funny to say that, considering all the young men at the average ball. Perhaps I mean I didn't have a great many interesting choices." Her mouth twisted. "Any interesting choices. In any case, several years after my marriage, when Jamie was home on leave, I was restless enough to be less impervious to risk. What did Sophia tell you about us?"
"She mentioned you and Captain Blayney had been close."
Pippa snorted. "I think Sophia got it in her head I was a rival. But I wasn't, really. What transpired between Jamie and me wasn’t serious enough for that. It was a moment's mad diversion from my general dissatisfaction with my life." She gripped her hands together. "I'm talking quite recklessly. But then, just now I have a feeling secrets are more dangerous than truth."
"In an investigation, that's very true," Mélanie said.
Pippa shot a look at her. "Jamie wasn't my only diversion in the course of my marriage, but he was the most dangerous. I think half of me was so unhappy with my marriage I wanted to push things and take a risk. I'm exceedingly fortunate my husband never found out." Her gaze moved to Colin, swinging Jessica in a circle round him as she giggled with glee. "If my marriage never meant a great deal to me, my children do. I don't know how I could have been so mad as to risk it."
"Despair can make one run risks one wouldn't when sane." After the battle of Waterloo, Mélanie had been particularly prone to risk. Only Colin had kept her anchored. And Malcolm, though her feelings about Malcolm had been tangled with a guilt that was part of her despair.
"Do you think so?" Pippa watched Colin lift Jessica to pick a leaf off a tree. "I wouldn't have said I was in despair, but looking back—I certainly didn't know what to do with myself. I should have found a more constructive solution. And I confess the fact that Jamie had been my sister's was probably part of the allure. Sophia accused me of taking him from her, and it wasn't that—they'd ended things years before. But I can't say I was free of sisterly rivalry."
"And Captain Blayney was apparently fascinated by your family."
"More fool he." Pippa shook her head, stirring the green ribbons on her bonnet.
"I imagine growing up you represented everything he aspired to."
"Yes, I can see that. It never occurred to me at the time. Jamie seemed so much more assured than any of us. Though it's true he didn't have a lot of things that we did. But at that age, those things didn't seem so important to me." She smiled as Colin and Jessica ran over to Emily, who had Berowne on his lead. "I suppose it's easy for things like good china, and wax candles in the school room, and pin money, and a new wardrobe every year not to seem important when one's never had to do without them." She frowned at an overhanging leaf, green turning to gold. "It never seemed to bother Edmund. That is, it did, but in a different way. It made him want to change things for everyone."
"My husband wants to change things too. Though he'd be the first to acknowledge he's always had plenty of creature comforts."
Pippa picked up a fallen leaf and turned it between her fingers. "Edmund would say that for all he and Jamie didn't have what we did, he had more than most people in Britain. And that's the really intolerable thing. Edmund's put his dissatisfaction to much more use than I did mine."
"You've followed his career closely."
Pippa shrugged. "Difficult not to be intrigued, when someone one's grown up with makes such a stir. Edmund and I were friends as children. We were both dissatisfied. But I rather think Edmund's more satisfied with his life now than I am." She loosed her fingers and let the leaf drift to the ground. "In any case, I managed to call it off fairly quickly with Jamie. I saw the risks and I wasn't in love enough to run them. I wasn't in love at all. And Jamie's feelings weren't engaged enough for him to make more than a gallant protest. We parted as friends. I didn't see him again for years, except for the occasional meeting in public that one can't avoid in London society. Until he called on me, making threats." Her jaw tightened, shaking the ribbons of her bonnet.
"Over what?" Mélanie asked.
Pippa's gaze shot to Mélanie's face. "Isn't that obvious, given what had transpired between us?"
"With many women it would be. But your husband is dead. You don't seem overly concerned with your reputation. I can see how scandal would be a concern for your children, but if anyone would stand up to Captain Blayney's threats, I could see you doing it."
Pippa gave a wry smile. "Perhaps I'm less of a rebel than I let on. Easy enough to be a rebel sitting home in Mayfair, I imagine Edmund would say. Until one's threatened with losing something. Even if it just means not having vouchers for Almack's or being cut in the park."
"We don't have vouchers for Almack's anymore. Because of Mr. O'Roarke's divorce. I confess I find it quite liberating."
"Well, yes, I do think that would be liberating. But I found I had an instinctive aversion to the other comforts in my life being threatened. I'm not proud of it, but there it is."
"What did Jamie ask of you?"
"You'd think it would be money, wouldn't you?"
"You would. But that isn't what he's asked of others."
"He was blackmailing others?"
"A number of them."
"That's—interesting. He wanted me to deliver a parcel to someone. Is that what he asked of others?"
"Yes. Whom did he want you to deliver the parcel to?"
"Lord Beverston."
Not surprising, given that they knew Danielle had been involved with Beverston, but interesting in that Beverston was a League member and opposed to Alexander Radford's faction. "Did you deliver it?" Mélanie asked.
"I had my footman take it round. Beverston sent back a polite note of thanks. He was a friend of my father's, though I haven't seen him much of late."
"Did you examine the parcel?"
"I didn't open it. But I think it contained papers. I don't much like that Jamie blackmailed me into being a party to blackmailing someone else."
