Drury Lane Darling (9 page)

“This suggests an
incredible
urgency,” Pamela agreed, and looked to Breslau for explanation.

He lifted the reticule and drew out the wallet. “Her money’s here.”

“See if General Max’s billet-doux is there,” Pamela suggested.

“What billet-doux?” Nigel demanded. “Did that old goat write to her?”

“We shouldn’t be rooting through her things,” Breslau said.

“Damme, she could be murdered for all we know,” Nigel exclaimed. “Take a look, Wes. I want to see that letter.”

Breslau dumped the contents of the reticule and beaded evening bag on the counterpane. The usual feminine miscellany was there, but no letter from General Max, and nothing to give a reason for Fleur’s abrupt departure.

Pamela glanced at the contents, then looked around the room. “I notice her favorite shawl is missing.”

Nigel stood, biting his underlip as though he wanted to say something. At last he could control himself no longer and blurted out, “That ain’t all that’s missing.”

“What do you mean?” Pamela asked.

“Nothing. Fleur’s missing, too. And I don’t believe for one minute she went to see Maxwell. She didn’t walk out of here on her own feet, not when she was lying stiff as a board and stone-cold two minutes before. Somebody killed her, and took the body away to hide.”

“That strikes me as extremely unlikely,” Breslau said. “Before we sound any alarm, we must review the matter. Fleur’s chamber wasn’t that far from the saloon. We didn’t hear any disturbance. There’d have been a racket if someone tried to jump her. She would have screamed when she was attacked. You didn’t see any blood?”

“Lord, no,” Nigel said. “She looked very peaceful.”

“There’s no sign of an intruder—nothing in the room is disarranged,” Breslau pointed out, looking around. “It was an orderly departure. Fleur won’t thank us for calling the police in.”

“I don’t like it,” Nigel insisted.

“No more do I,” Breslau agreed. “But we shall wait till morning and see if she isn’t back in her room.”

“He’s right, Nigel,” Pamela said. “I believe Fleur’s lover—General Max, or the handsome stranger who was not necessarily a stranger to
her
—came tapping at her door. She didn’t want anyone to hear, so she picked up her pelisse and went out to speak to him. He convinced her to go off somewhere, and she went. She’ll probably be back any moment.”

“You don’t fool me, Pam. You’re just trying to show me Fleur ain’t the sort of lady I should marry,” Nigel charged.

“Surely you can see that for yourself.”

“Pamela’s right,” Breslau said firmly. “The thing to do is for us to go to bed, before your mother comes down to see what’s keeping us. If Fleur isn’t back by morning, then we’ll begin making serious enquiries.”

“I, for one, am going to bed,” Pamela said, and made her good nights before leaving.

Breslau went into the hall and watched her mount the stairs. When she was gone, he returned to Nigel. “I’d like to hear a little more about what else is missing,” he said, “and why you felt it necessary to dash up and make sure your father was in his room. Was he, by the by?”

“Of course he was! I couldn’t say anything in front of Pam. The worst thing, Wes. Fleur stole Mama’s diamond bracelet.

Breslau looked blank. “Good God, man, she’s not a thief! Where did you get that idea?”

“She had it on her wrist. I’d recognize it anywhere. It’s an antiquated old thing, with a diamond link chain and an ugly old flower in the middle. Quite distinctive. All Fleur’s jewelry is of the latest cut.”

“How could she steal it? Your mother didn’t wear it this evening. Where is it kept?”

“In the safe in Papa’s office. That’s why I went to see Papa, to ask if he’d given it to her, but he was asleep. I can’t imagine how Fleur got in and opened the safe. And why she only stole the bracelet and left the necklace,” he added, sinking deeper into confusion. “At least she wasn’t wearing Mama’s necklace.”

Breslau pinched his aching temples and sighed. “Oh, Lord. It was bad enough that Fleur was carrying on with Max at such a time and place. Now it seems the wretched woman has turned her hand to blackmail.”

“Papa didn’t even know I wanted to marry her. And Mama couldn’t have given her the bracelet, for she don’t know how to open the safe.”

“Nigel, you clothhead. You’re making an ass of yourself, dangling after Fleur.” But, of course, this was not the matter Fleur was using for her illicit ends.

“You’re just jealous.”

“Go to bed. We’ll talk in the morning. And I’ll see that Fleur returns the bracelet.”

“Who could sleep with all this weighing on him,” Nigel said, and went to fetch the wine bottle, for it was clear he and Wes had some heavy man-to-man talk coming up.

It took considerable ingenuity on Breslau’s part to convince Nigel he had imagined seeing the bracelet and dissuade him from discussing it with his father. The delusion was blamed on the excitement of literary creation.

“Any dramatist worth his salt sees imaginary scenes of incredible clarity when he is creating,” Breslau explained.

“That’s true.” Incredibly lifelike scenes between himself and Fleur had been popping quite unbidden into his mind.

“You were in the throes of literary inspiration. Very fatiguing work, I should think. Let us retire now, so you’ll be fresh in the morning.”

Eventually Nigel was persuaded up to bed, but it was more than an hour before his cot in the next room fell silent and Breslau was free to return belowstairs. His mood boded ill for the wayward marquise. It stung his pride to skulk about like a character in a French farce, creeping downstairs in his stocking feet, peering all about to make sure no one was watching him. If Lady Raleigh should take into her head to patrol the hallway, for instance, she’d jump to the wrong conclusion. Or Miss Comstock, for that matter.

He reached the downstairs landing without incident and proceeded silently along the hallway toward Fleur’s apartment. As he crept along, he heard a squawk from the end of the hall and slid into the closest doorway. From the concealing shadows, he saw a taper moving down the dark hall. In the beam of its flickering light, Sir Aubrey’s angry face hovered, looking for all the world like a gargoyle. The squawk, and Sir Aubrey, had both issued from Fleur’s apartment door.

Breslau remained hidden till he had passed, then hastened along to the door. The apartment was in total darkness. He called once in a low voice, got no answer, and lit a taper. The rooms were unchanged from his last visit. He was in no mood for sleep, and went to the saloon to await Fleur’s return, passing the time with a cheroot, a glass of wine, and his thoughts. When he felt the lassitude of sleep falling on him two hours later, he went upstairs to bed.

* * * *

Lady Raleigh kept early hours at Belmont. She habitually rose at seven, but allowed her guests to breakfast anytime before nine. At eight, Pamela was at the table alone in a state of high fidgets. When Breslau joined her later, he knew by her staring eyes that more unpleasant surprises were in store.

With a dark look he said, “Don’t tell me till I’ve had a cup of coffee.”

“You look awful,” Pamela told him. “Did you not sleep?” Breslau’s eyes were bleary and smudged with fatigue, but it was the grim set of his lips that gave him that forbidding air.

“Perhaps twenty winks.”

As he sipped his coffee, he observed that the night’s activities left no trace on Miss Comstock. She looked even brighter and fresher than before, like a healthy animal. After Breslau had drunk half a cup of coffee, she could wait no longer.

“Fleur isn’t in her room,” she said.

The sounds Breslau uttered were very subdued, and very profane. He had warned Fleur a dozen times that this wasn’t the sort of house where she could play off her stunts. Propriety was the watchword here, and she had
promised
to toe the line.

“I hope you haven’t told anyone?”

“No, but there’s more, Breslau. All her things are gone. I went to her apartment at seven. The room is stripped bare of all her belongings. Lady Raleigh thinks she’s still here. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t think you’d lie in bed so late on a day like this,” she said accusingly.

Breslau stared into the black iridescence in his cup and wished he could be swallowed up in it. Here was a pretty kettle of fish!

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“Wring her neck when she returns.”

“She surely won’t have the gall to show her face here again! The removal of her clothing suggests she’s returned to London, don’t you think? And not even a note of thanks. I call that rag-mannered.”

“Is Sir Aubrey up yet?”

“In his study.”

Without another word, Breslau went to confront Sir Aubrey. He got his ears singed for his impertinence.

“How dare you suggest I gave that hussy my wife’s diamonds!”

“Just the bracelet. At least that’s all that was seen.” Fortunately Sir Aubrey didn’t ask who had seen it. “She had it, Aubrey. You either gave it to her, or she stole it. If it was the latter, I assume you’ll be sending for the constable.”

“The bracelet is in London being cleaned,” Sir Aubrey said stiffly. The livid hue of his jowls might have been due to indignation, or lying.

Breslau wanted to gain his host’s trust and assumed a conciliating manner. “I’m not suggesting you’re having an
affaire
with the marquise. If you were, it’s nothing to do with me. Truth to tell, I feared she was holding you to ransom.”

The livid jowls retained their hue, but Sir Aubrey’s angry eyes assumed a new wariness. “What are you suggesting she could possibly have against me?”

“Ancient history. From the hints she was tossing your way yesterday, I’d say a liaison in Brighton twenty odd years ago. Am I correct?”

“Certainly not. If I ever knew the woman, I don’t recall it. It’s true my youth was not as spotless as Lady Raleigh would like, but I was not so abandoned that I forgot my partners.”

“Then why did you visit her room late last night?”

“Who says I did!” Sir Aubrey exclaimed, ready to deny it with his dying breath.

“I say so. I saw you leave.”

“Hmph. If you must know, I just wished to have a word with her in private.”

“I’m afraid you must tell me what that word was.”

Sir Aubrey froze. “You overstep the bounds of a guest, sir.”

“My leading lady is missing. Every journal in London will run banners two-inches high if we don’t find her before tomorrow night’s performance. She disappeared while under your roof, and in theory, at least, your protection.”

“You were her escort!”

“Nigel saw her safely to her apartment.”

An impasse had been reached. Sir Aubrey was not ready to confess.

“Can you at least give me your assurance that you didn’t ask her to leave your house?”

“Good God, man! I’m not a savage. I was as surprised as you when I saw that empty room.”

“You’ve no idea where she is then?”

“London would be my guess, and good riddance.”

London, however, was a two-hour drive away. Breslau knew that if he went to London and didn’t find her, he’d have to turn around and come back to Belmont. Better to exhaust all possibilities here first.

“We’ll not disturb Lady Raleigh with any unfounded conjectures. I plan to tell her Lady Chamaude was called away suddenly,” Sir Aubrey said. His tone was more civil than before.

“What do you plan to tell the constable?”

“No need to call him till you check in London.” Sir Aubrey’s tone was more than civil, it was pleading, and his eyes wore a haunted look.

“I’m not going to London just yet,” Breslau said, and left the study. Let Raleigh stew a while. The sharp edge of fear might loosen his tongue.

Before calling on General Maxwell, Breslau wanted to check Fleur’s apartment for himself. He saw Pamela had left the breakfast table, and wasn’t surprised to find her already in Fleur’s bedroom.

“What did Sir Aubrey say?” she asked.

“Nothing of any account. We plan to tell Lady Raleigh Fleur was urgently summoned to London.”

Pamela pointed to the empty clothespress. “Everything’s gone, just as I said. Hat, suit, reticule, toilet things. She left the manuscript behind. That’s all.”

Breslau glanced around the room. “It looks like a hurried job. Drawers left hanging open, clothes hangers on the floor.”

“It wouldn’t take long. She only brought one evening gown with her, as well as the suit she wore, of course.”

“That’s odd! Fleur’s quite a peacock.”

“Well, her maid had a cold and couldn’t come with her, so perhaps… But it is odd she left no note for her hostess. You know the marquise well, Breslau. Is she likely to have gone off voluntarily without so much as a thank you note?”

Breslau frowned into the distance. “What you’re asking is whether I think she left freely, or was kidnapped.”

“Actually it was murder I had in mind. Nigel said—”

“You don’t have to remind me.”

“And we went calmly up to bed without lifting a finger to help her. I feel awful, so guilty. What shall we do, Breslau?”

“I’m going to do a little checking up in the immediate neighborhood before going to London.”

“I want to help.”

“You and Nigel might drive into the village. Don’t ask pointed questions, but a neighborly chat should tell you whether anyone there saw her leave.”

“Nigel! I’m not going with
him.
Where are
you
going?”

“To call on General Maxwell.”

“I’ll go with you,” she said.

“I think not.”

“You’ll have a better chance for private conversation with General Max if I go along and divert his mother.”

“That’s true. Very well, I plan to leave immediately.”

“I’ll tell Lady Raleigh. Nigel’s still sleeping, so she won’t object.”

* * * *

Within minutes they were ensconced in Breslau’s comfortable chaise. The temperature had risen enough that last night’s ice had melted. Beyond the window, dreary winter’s landscape was at its unloveliest, but neither of them glanced out the window. They were too engrossed in the mystery.