An Inconvenient Wife (5 page)

Carlisle whistled. “What in
hell are you going to do if she
does
need rescuing? You could be walking
into a mess, my friend.”

“You think I don’t know it?”
Westcott answered with some bitterness. “I counted on having Juliette along—to
take charge of the chit if necessary. Now….” He pushed his glass across the
table for a refill.

Carlisle divided the
remainder of the bottle between them. “Let’s hope it will not be necessary.
Could be the girl
is
happy where she is and you can return home with a
good report.”

Westcott snorted, held up
his hands in a resigned gesture, and returned his friend’s skeptical look with
one of his own.

“That may be, but my gut
tells me otherwise and I’ve learned to trust it.”
Expect trouble ahead,
Westcott, and you won’t be disappointed.

~* * *~

Portugal

It appeared to be a daily
routine.

The gentleman Westcott had
been told was Claude Meraux set out each mid-day, and soon after an older
couple appeared to collect two children and a maid. The trio stayed out for two
hours, returning well before
Monsieur
Meraux reappeared. The children
were a puzzle, unusually quiet and serious, and he was glad he had not
approached the odd family the minute he learned of their whereabouts. Today he
planned to follow them. He had already determined that Meraux spent the
afternoons in a coffeehouse, indulging in an occasional game of cards. Often he
appeared to conduct some sort of business with other members of the small
French community residing in Oporto, and
not
the most respectable
members.

I’d like to know what that
business is. None of the traders I spoke to know anything about him, so where
is he getting the funds to finance his leisurely pursuits and this so-called
business?

Westcott trailed the
children at a safe distance. Although finding Meraux had not been difficult, he
had no idea how to approach this girl who was purported to be
la Comtesse’s
niece.
And what of the boy? Was he Meraux’s son? Westcott had been in Oporto for
several days and had little more information now than when he arrived.

His quarry turned into a
quiet street lined with the high, stone walls that hid the villas of the
wealthier residents of Oporto and he halted at the corner to watch them. They
stopped at a small door beside the high double gates guarding one of the
villas, the girl spoke briefly to the maid, and then followed the boy and the
couple through the doorway. The maid, Westcott was interested to see, did not
join them, but walked on alone.

He went in the opposite
direction, searching for an alehouse. If the youngsters kept to their normal
routine, he had an hour or more to wait; and a drink with the local residents
was a good way to obtain some information about the occupants of that villa.

The common room was cool and
dark and Westcott paused inside the entrance until his eyes adjusted. At this
time of day, few tables were occupied. He walked over, leaned against the
ancient counter and ordered
cerveja
, well aware every eye in the room
marked him as a stranger. But he spoke the language well, and after spinning a
short tale to explain his presence, encouraged the loquacious barman to talk
about the area and its residents. In any case, the beer was good.

Westcott wandered out
sometime later, the better for the drink, but uncertain how accurate the
information volunteered by the barman was. An English lady and her servants
stayed in the gatehouse of the
Villa de Campo des
Flores
, guests
of the Condessa, who was away in the country. No one knew the children who
visited every day, but sometimes the ‘foreign’ lady was known to play music
while they were there.
Could it possibly be as simple as that? The children
were having a music lesson? Why so far from their home, and why not a French
teacher
?

Westcott took up a watchful
post near the villa. If they held true to form, they would leave soon to return
home. No need to follow today. It might be more productive to investigate the
English woman.

He did not have long to
wait. The children emerged first and the boy held the leash of a small dog that
frisked around their feet. The man and woman followed, along with the
children’s maid, and then another woman. She said something to the boy, who
slowed his pace, and then taking the girl’s hand, walked along with them.

Westcott moved back into a
shadowy doorway on the opposite side of the street, but no one paid any attention
to him. He had never seen her with the children before and the woman’s
headscarf made it hard to determine her features or age, although she appeared
to be much younger than her adult companions.

He kept well back, but since
he knew their destination, had no need to keep them in sight. He did want to
know more about the Englishwoman. What was special about today that she chose
to accompany them? Perhaps it was due to the dog, for she picked up the animal
when they arrived at Meraux’s house and touched each of the children lightly on
the shoulder.

She waited until they
disappeared inside before turning to retrace her steps. Feeling like an idiot—
what
the devil was he doing following these people around?
—Westcott trailed
behind them, not giving up the chase until they turned into the open-air
market. However much he wanted to simply knock on the door of the villa and ask
what they had to do with those children, he doubted it would be well received.
Better to make some inquiries first. Although most of his holdings were in
Lisbon, he kept a small house here and knew where to go for information.
Reluctant to give up entirely, he sauntered into the market, hoping for one
more look at the lady who so roused his curiosity. It should be safe enough,
since they had no idea who he was or of his interest, but to his
disappointment, she was lost in the crowds.

Chapter Five

Far from being lost in the
crowd, Anne stood in the shadowy protection of an awning-covered fruit stall.
Bill had noticed the stranger several days ago. Both curious and apprehensive,
she had come along today to see for herself. Why
would
someone be
following the children? Or was it someone the Major had sent to spy on them? If
so, the man was not very accomplished in skulking around and avoiding
attention.

Anne had deliberately stayed
away from Meraux’s house in fear of disturbing the tenuous agreement she had
reached with the Frenchman. After the period he initially decreed had ended,
she had been successful in persuading him to allow the children to come each
day, care for the dog, and receive music lessons.

She shrank back as the
stranger drew nearer and turned enough to the side that her face was obscured,
but she could still see him. Eyes, deep set in a strong-featured face, brown
hair overlong, and a supple form that slipped easily through the throng. A hard
man, she sensed for some reason, and wished she had been able to determine the
colour of his eyes.

Anne waited until she was
sure he was gone before searching out Maggie, who loitered a short distance
away. Bill planned to turn the tables and follow the stranger.

“I hope Bill is careful,”
Anne said fretfully to Maggie as they walked home.

“You worry too much. Mr.
Fenton is not one to be careless. He won’t be seen but whether he can get any
information is another thing,” Maggie said sharply. She unlocked the door,
stepped inside, and dropped her basket on the bench outside the house.

Anne freed Bonnie to run
around the courtyard and sank into a chair. “I can’t help it,” she said, wrinkling
her nose. “Our position here is so precarious. I’ve gotten nowhere in helping
the children and money is getting to be a serious problem. I never expected to
be marooned here this long.”

Maggie’s expression softened
and she rested her hand on Anne’s for a moment. “You are helping the children,
just by being a friend. They get easier around you every day, and I’ve never
seen anyone enjoy music like Danielle does.”

Anne brightened and smiled a
little. It
was
true. Along with her guitar, she had brought her flutes
and a recorder, and Danielle had taken to the flute with extraordinary
interest. Guy toyed with the recorder, more interested in Bonnie, but paid
enough attention to satisfy Meraux when questioned, although the Frenchman
appeared to have very little interest in the child. He paid more attention to
Danielle, Anne surmised from what the girl had let drop. But whether it was a
healthy interest or something else…. She let the thought slide away. She had
enough trouble at hand without allowing her imagination to run wild.

“She is a pleasure to
teach.” Anne squeezed Maggie’s hand and stood. “Speaking of which, I’d best put
away my instruments.”

“Play something for me
first.”

Anne started, for other than
during the music lessons, she had not touched her flutes these past months, but
after a speculative look from the older woman, followed by one of her rare
smiles, Anne was disarmed. Perhaps it
was
time to find out if her music
provided the solace she had found in the past. She had nothing else to do and it
might make the wait for Bill to return pass more quickly.

~* * *~

“Certainly I am going to go
with Bill and the children.” Anne tightened her lips and glared at Maggie.
“That man followed them again today and
not
carefully, according to
Bill. Since all we know about him is that he is an Englishman, someone needs to
put a stop to it before it comes to Meraux’s attention. Or even Danielle’s. She
is a bright girl and very observant.”

Maggie snorted and raised
her chin with a jerk. “And you think
you
are the right someone to
confront a stranger with who knows what in mind?” She set down the pitcher with
enough force to bring the vivid red liquid dangerously close to the top. “Let
Mr. Fenton make some more inquiries today before you do anything foolish.”

Anne let out a loud breath.
“You know that juice stains dreadfully,” she reminded Maggie in an effort to
change the subject. They had been over this before and Anne knew she was not
going to convince Maggie that she was perfectly safe in a public market with Bill
at her side. She summoned a smile. “I know you are concerned for my well-being,
Maggie, but it is something I need to do. Come, the children are waiting, and
the sooner this is done, the better.” She leaned over to pat one of Maggie’s
work-worn hands. “I will not do anything foolish, I promise.”

Maggie looked unconvinced,
but filled two glasses and handed them to Anne without another word. The
serving of a beverage was now part of the routine, after a romp with the dog, a
music lesson, and these precious few minutes of conversation when Anne was able
to draw snippets of information from Danielle and Guy. Disquieting information
at times, although neither child ever came out and said their stepfather
mistreated them.
They have more than implied it, Anne, and what can you do
about it? The man would laugh in your face, at best, and certainly forbid them
to see you. Nor will you be here much longer now you’ve promised the Fentons to
apply to the English Consul for funds in a few days
.

Smoothing her expression to
appear unconcerned, Anne went outside, handed each of the children a glass, and
sat down on the bench between them. Bonnie was curled up on Guy’s lap and Anne
gave her a little scratch on her head. “You have quite worn her out again.”

“It is good,
oui
?” Guy
looked up at her and grinned. “She likes to play.”

His smiles came more often
now, and Anne was pleased to have accomplished that much. Danielle was more
reserved, but had lost that wary look, at least when she was here. Anne ruffled
the boy’s thick hair. “Someone else also likes to play, I think.”

Both the children had dark
hair, but Guy’s was closer to a true black. He was not a handsome lad, his face
too thin and his nose just a shade long, but the expressive dark eyes and sweet
smile were bound to charm the ladies someday.
Gracious, Anne, they charm
you, spinster that you are!

“What do you prefer to learn
today? It is near time for you to leave, so choose something easy. No counting
to a hundred.” They giggled at that, remembering the day they had insisted on
trying to memorize the English numbers, and Anne chuckled.

“Some clothing,
mam’selle
,”
Danielle suggested, and pointed to her shoes.

“
La
c
haussure…
shoe,”
Anne began, and chanting after her, they covered the clothing worn by all three
of them. They soaked up everything Anne taught them with a relish both
refreshing and enjoyable. Danielle especially appeared to have an aptitude for
the language. She had made more progress in these few weeks than Anne had in a
year of French lessons as a child.

“Miss McKenzie.”

Bill’s appearance put an end
to the session, and Anne smiled regretfully at the children. “We will start
earlier tomorrow,” she promised, and darted inside to get her headscarf and
gloves.