Once Upon a Scandal (19 page)

“Speaking of charming things,” Charlotte said, “we have someone very special to introduce.” She motioned towards the door. “Come in, dearest, don’t be shy.”

Violet, their daughter, was standing in the doorway, dressed in a white linen dress with a blue sash and a matching hair bow. At nine years old, she was a pretty thing, with pert features and masses of strawberry-blond hair, but Jane knew from experience she was nervous in company. Even as her nurse pushed her forward, her eyes darted between each of the adults, one hand working at a strand of hair, twisting it.

“Come now, dumpling,” her mother urged. “Madame Fauchon, Lady Marchmain, and Lord Marworth are eager to make your acquaintance. And of course, Uncle Aldus is here, too, and he loves you very much. Can you show everyone your best curtsey?”

But Violet had fixed her attention on Jane, eyes unwavering, her confusion obvious, her lower lip trembling. Clearly, the girl was close to tears, so Jane approached her and leaned down, smiling. “
Bonsoir, my petite fille
. What a lovely child you are.”

“Say hello, Violet,” Gerard said.

But the girl merely reached a hand up, pulling on her sleeve to urge her closer, until she was almost kneeling upon the floor. “Are you my cousin, Jane?” she whispered.

And she could not help it. Her eyes welled with tears. Never had the weight of her deception been more acute. She hated lying to an innocent. “
Non, ma pauvre chère
. My poor little one. But just for you, on this one night, I wish I was.”

“Me too,” she replied, although a faint smile had started.

“Can you not take the girl away, Nurse?” Sir Aldus cut in. “It’s nearly time to go in to dinner.” He hadn’t even acknowledged Violet. How could anyone be so disinterested in a child, so casually cruel? He was studying his pocket watch as if it were the most intricate instrument in all the world.

“Come now, Sir Aldus,” Gerard said. “You know how Violet treasures your visits. Give your great uncle a hug, my dear.”

But the girl stood rooted to her spot, no doubt quelled by Sir Aldus’s exasperated sigh.

Jane turned back to Violet. “Do you like dolls, my little one?” When the little girl nodded carefully, Jane said, “Then I shall start looking for the perfect doll tomorrow. I will know it when I see it, and I shall send it, wrapped up in a box and bow for you.”

Her smile now fixed firmly back in place, Violet reached for her nurse’s outstretched hand and left as Jane returned her attention to the others.

“How good of you, Madame Fauchon,” Benjamin said, all charm and good humor, perhaps because he sensed her anger and wanted to distract it. “You’ve a way with children and a generosity of spirit, I think.”

“Yes, you do,” Charlotte added with a wide smile, seemingly oblivious to her former guardian’s rude behavior. But not Gerard. He was glaring at Sir Aldus when he said, “Let’s go in then, shall we?”

So he had some spine after all. Jane was glad to see it.

The table gleamed, each place set with a dozen or more pieces of sterling cutlery. Undoubtedly new, since the Fitzsimmons family silver had been sold off long ago. But Jane could not fault Gerard and Charlotte for setting aside a tarnished past. Whether it was redecorating in a style that didn’t suit conventional tastes, or putting aside a traditional period of mourning for her father, the disgraced titleholder, she found she could no longer judge harshly. Life was too precious and short.

The dining room, however, had not yet been redone. The chairs they sat upon were upholstered in a fabric Jane herself had chosen, the linens embroidered with her family’s coat of arms. Unbidden, a lump rose in her throat, and as they settled at the table, she struggled to find a distraction, seizing on one Pierre had spoken of. “If you will pardon me,” she said, glancing up at Charlotte and Gerard before returning her attention to the table, carefully turning each fork face down, so its prongs rested against the cloth below.

“Is that a French custom?” Charlotte asked, quickly doing the same with her own place setting.

How gifted she’d become at pretense. “In France, people of a certain status have avoided prongs since the Revolution. They look too much like the pitch forks of the
sans-culottes
.”

Her hostess looked completely befuddled. Even Benjamin seemed surprised, so she quickly followed up on her reply. “
Je m’excuse. Sans-culottes
… it is a term referring to the peasants who stormed the Bastille. You know of the famous prison, yes?”

“Indeed,” Benjamin replied, as both Sophia and Sir Aldus nodded in agreement.

“The peasants did not wear culottes, you see,” she said, addressing her remarks to the table. “The silk knee breeches worn by the nobility and the bourgeoisie. They wore pantaloons instead ... trousers, you call them.”

“Are you such a great student of trousers then?” Benjamin asked smoothly. He excelled in this world. One in which banter was infused with innuendo.

“Only when they are worn by a very handsome man,” she replied, watching him carefully over the edge of her wineglass. “It makes the study of them far more appealing.”

His eyes flared as Charlotte giggled. “Oh,
madame
, you mustn’t say such things. You’ll embarrass Lord Marworth.”

“I have been reminded by friends in Paris that the English are more circumspect,” she replied. “I will do my best to remember it. I shouldn’t wish to seem forward.”

“You’re welcome to be as forward as you like,” Sir Aldus cut in, his smile obsequious.

“Tell us about Paris, Madame Fauchon,” Gerard said, seemingly eager to change the subject. “Is it as beautiful as they say?”

“It is no longer the city of my childhood, of course. It is larger, louder. And the army is everywhere.”

“Don’t you wish the men would be done with it?” Sophia asked, joining in. “How long now have our countries been at war?”

“For far too long,” she agreed. “And though
Le Moniteur
extols the brilliance of Napoleon and trumpets a string victories on the continent, the populace understands it is propaganda from the regime. I’ve heard it rumored
la Grande Armee
met with a devastating defeat in Russia and that your General Wellington is close to controlling Spain. The emperor claims victory will come with perseverance. But I believe he is straining the loyalty of France.”

“Those are bold opinions to voice,
madame
,” Sir Aldus said. “Would you say the same thing on the streets of Paris?”

“But of course not,
monsieur
,” she said, forcing a smile. “In France, I flirt with Napoleon’s commanders and profess my utter devotion to the cause. One does what one must in such situations,
n’est ce pas
?”

“If I recall,” Sir Aldus continued, “Lord Fitzsimmons once told me his wife’s family was closely connected to the regime.”

“My father knows the emperor well. It would be a lie to say otherwise. At one point, all of France was caught up in his vision of glory. But that is changing. The people are weary of the costs of war, both in money and in men. Every family has offered up a son. We want peace.”

“From your mouth to Bonaparte’s ears,” Gerard said.

“I would appreciate the chance to speak with you further about the situation in France,” Sir Aldus said. “Perhaps a carriage ride in Hyde Park? I know I’d be the envy of every gentleman there.”

“But of course. I’d like nothing more.” It was her boldest lie yet.

“Would tomorrow suit, then?”

“
Bien sur
. The following day, I must see to business at the Bank of England.”

“Should you like me to escort you there, as well?” he asked, leaning forward. “I’d be most pleased to be of assistance.”

“I’ve already offered to help Madame Fauchon, Sir Aldus,” Benjamin cut in smoothly. “She has the use of my carriage for as long as she might need it. It is an unfamiliar city to her, after all.”

Sir Aldus stiffened, clearly annoyed. “Once again, you have the advantage over me when it comes to a beautiful woman, Marworth.” His eyes slid back and forth between them. “First, it seems, with Miss Fitzsimmons, and now with her cousin.”

She pretended surprise. “Were you an admirer of Jane, as well as a friend? I did not know it.”

“For many long years,” Sir Aldus admitted. “Marworth’s interest was a sudden and unwelcome surprise.”

“I can’t deny
monsieur le vicomte
is all that is charming, But I also appreciate a man of dignity and distinction, such as yourself,” she said, infusing her voice with false enthusiasm. How hard it was to encourage him. “I will look forward to our ride in the park.”

His slow, appreciative smile unsettled her stomach. “As will I.”

• • •

“He is reprehensible,” Jane said as the carriage ambled its way back after dinner. Outrage had painted bright spots of color high on her cheeks, and in the gaslight, her eyes flashed indignantly.

“You remind me of one of the mythological furies, my dear,” Sophia said as she settled back against the leather squabs. “A modern-day Tisiphone, ready to wreak vengeance on the damned. Or in this case, Aldus Rempley.”

“Didn’t Tisiphone have black bat wings and a head of hair entwined with serpents?” Jane asked. “Both might be worth it if they spared me his company. As the meal progressed, he could not have been more encroaching.”

“He finds you attractive, Jane,” Benjamin said. “As we suspected he would.” And how could anyone not? She was luminous in a green evening gown, its elaborate embroidery mirrored on the cashmere shawl slipping from her shoulders. “At the same time, I don’t think he quite believes his eyes. Your knowledge about current-day Paris may have alleviated many of his suspicions, but Rempley didn’t rise to his position of authority without being a skeptic.”

“I think the better word is misogynist. He was abominable to poor Violet and seemed embarrassed by Charlotte. What a miserable upbringing she must have endured as his ward.”

“If rumor serves correctly,” Sophia said, “her parents died when she was close to Violet’s age. Why anyone thought he’d make an appropriate guardian, I can’t say. She was shuttled off to his country estate, neither seen nor heard of until her marriage was arranged with Montford.”

“They seem quite happy together, though,” Jane said.

“Given that Montford was your father’s heir, I’m sure a minimum of effort was needed to secure the deal. Rempley married her off at the first opportunity, when she was not even seventeen, to rid himself of the responsibility.”

“Speaking of Montford.” He turned to Jane. “I saw him pull you aside as we were leaving. Was there something he wanted?”

“It seems several important documents related to my father’s estate are missing, and he thinks they’re among the papers at the bank. He asked to review them first, because of their sensitive nature. But I said they’d been entrusted to me for a reason, and I would pass along anything that seemed relevant. He was not pleased.”

“He’s not used to being contradicted by a woman,” Sophia said. “Charlotte’s not the sort to stand up to anyone.”

“I’ve done her a disservice all these years,” Jane said, her face thoughtful. “It’s easy now to see why she talks as much as she does. Sir Aldus obviously ignored her growing up, and children will go to almost any lengths for attention and love. We’re rather desperate for it.”

• • •

After they took Sophia back to Marchmain House, the carriage, with just the two of them inside it, felt all too intimate. Benjamin’s fingers itched to slip that shawl from Jane’s shoulders. “I don’t like to think of you being lonely as a child,” he said, in an effort to distract his thoughts.

She merely smiled, her head slightly tilted. “We all have our moments of loneliness, don’t you think? But my upbringing was not overly so. My parents may not have always loved each other, but they loved me. It is what I try to remember when I look back over their lives and think about the choices they made.”

Her words were a terrible reminder of the grim task facing him. “This is not an easy thing for me to ask you, Jane.” His palms were sweaty in his gloves. She sat there, a quizzical look on her face, a last moment of blissful ignorance before he destroyed it. “Did your father have many enemies?”

“It might be difficult to point to only one,” she replied. “You’ll recall he was not well liked.”

“No, at the end, I suppose he was not. But can you think of anyone who would intentionally do him harm? His death, we’ve learned, was not the result of a chance encounter. It was premeditated.”

Her eyes widened, as he’d known they would. “How can you be certain?”

“There were witnesses at Sharpe’s. Without recounting the details, suffice it to say he did not die there.”

Her lower lip had started the slightest tremble, and her eyes were suspiciously bright. “I’d reconciled myself to a random act of violence. London can be a dangerous place. But something preplanned? How can he have fallen so far, that someone would do such a thing?”

“Can you recall any details about that night? Anything you might not have mentioned before?”

“He was agitated,” she said, her voice wavering. “But then he often was before a night at the tables. I should have guessed it then, that he wasn’t meeting up with Sir Aldus. He’d already been to see him the day before.”

The day the dossiers had gone missing. “Did he mention the purpose of that prior meeting?”

“He’d been trying to find ways to bring in money, and I think he’d stumbled upon something. He’d just returned from a trip out of London, although he wouldn’t say where he’d gone or why. I assumed he wanted to discuss it with Sir Aldus. He went to see Gerard, as well.”

“What was his mood upon returning from those visits?” According to Montford, it was the day he’d begged both men for money, so his trip had failed to net anything substantive, at least in terms of funds.

“Resigned, perhaps? He retreated into his study with a bottle of cognac and did not emerge for the rest of the evening. Before I went up to bed, I peeked in on him. He was sitting in his chair, staring at the fire, an empty glass in his hands.”

Was it the behavior of a man who’d just stolen state secrets? It was difficult to say. “Do you recall any other correspondence that night or the next day?” Surely, Fitzsimmons had begun to explore avenues of sale if he’d had the documents in hand.