Chapter Twenty-Five

The storm outside was lessening, and Allegra could hear the rain hitting the windows of the room where a tense silence had fallen after Charles Falworth’s question.

As if frozen forever in a split second of time, she saw her husband’s face, bloodied and frustrated, showing the strain he was suffering at his inability to help her. Grace remained still, her skin white beneath the bruising, biting her lip absently as she, too, awaited Allegra’s reply. There could, of course, be only one response.

“Where’s what?”

“You know what I’m talking about, now I’m going to ask you again and I don’t want to have to repeat it. Where is it?”

Allegra was getting confused. She had no clue what Falworth meant, even though he clearly expected her to understand him. “Charles, tell me. I don’t know what it is you’re looking for,” she pleaded.

“Stoopiiid.” hissed Madame, swinging her hand and catching Allegra on the side of the head and making her ears ring. “Ze safe, ze safe, you eeeediiioottt chienne.” growled the angry woman. A groan from Pip went unnoticed as he strained against his bonds.

“The safe?” she repeated, eyes darting between Falworth and Madame, as she tried to grasp the question and clear her eyes of the stars that were presently blinking across her vision.

“You moved, it, Allegra. You had the damned nerve to move my safe...” Falworth paced angrily up and down the length of the room, waving his stained blade at the wall next to the fireplace.

“Here—it was always here, see?” He stomped to the aged brick hearth, and grabbed the lower finial that formed part of the decoration carved into the intricate mantelpiece. He tried turning it.

“Nothing. Not an inch. And it should move smoothly—allowing the wainscoting to swing out and the safe to be revealed—but what’s happening, Allegra? Is anything moving? Is there a door in the wainscoting? Is there anything there anymore? Nothing. Nothing.” His words ended on a scream of frustration, and he rushed back to confront her. “I’ve spent more hours than I can count grubbing through this damnable house trying to find it, and I can’t. So now you are going to tell me...” he said through gritted teeth.

Madame grabbed her arms from behind as Falworth thrust the knife roughly up under her chin. Tears started from her eyes as she felt the blade break the skin.

“Why did you move my safe, bitch? It wasn’t yours to move—nothing here was yours. This house is four hundred years old. Did anybody move the safe in those years? No. The safe was where it’s been for the last four fucking centuries. And then what happens?” Spittle flew from Falworth’s mouth as his rage grew. “A stupid idiot of a chit thinks she can move in and change the whole bloody place around. Well, nobody asked you to touch it, and you’d better tell me where you put it, right now, or else...”

Anger got the better of Allegra’s instinct for self-preservation, and regardless of the rather risky situation they were all in, her temper snapped. She’d had to watch her husband beaten, her niece brutalised, and she decided she’d had enough.

“The fact that this damned mausoleum has been standing for four hundred years is a miracle permitted only by the grace of God. The Falworths certainly did nothing to help.” She fired this shot looking Falworth straight in the eye. In spite of the fact that he had the knife, the advantage, and was completely insane, he took a step back.

“I was told you were dead. Dead, Charles. You know what that means?” she hissed at him, letting her temper have full rein. “It usually means people aren’t coming back. They’re gone. In the ground. Never to return. If you’re going to be declared dead, the first thing you have to remember is that people will not expect to see you come waltzing back into their lives. Understand?” She glared at him so ferociously that he meekly nodded. “So when they do, they’re going to find things changed. Maybe even torn down. Maybe even gone. I fail to see why this is such a surprise to a dead person like yourself…” She paused for breath, bosom swelling along with her indignation.

“Now, as to your damned safe, yes. I had it moved. And do you know why I had it moved?” she continued her aggressive diatribe, pouring all the emotions she’d bottled up inside for years into her words, her tone, and her expression. Falworth hesitantly slid backwards another inch or so.

“I had it moved, because the bloody wall fell down.”

Everybody’s eyes unconsciously turned to the section of wall standing unobtrusively next to the mantelpiece.

“Like everything else in this damned house, it was rotting and full of decay. Did you care when you were here? No. Did you even think to have any work done to stop this pile of dry rot falling down around your ears? No. You were so busy rushing up to London so that you could... you could... tup your assortment of whores, that it didn’t matter to you if the whole damn place collapsed.” She paused for a moment, realising two things. First, Madame had released her arms and secondly that she’d just used a totally unacceptable word. Well, hell—in for a penny, in for a pound.

“The wall fell down less than two weeks after I was told you’d died. Did you expect me to leave it there—a pile of rubble, with a very obvious strongbox sticking out?” She snorted. “Not that it would have mattered, because God knows there was nothing in it, and there never had been, had there?” Riding the emotions of the moment, she strode to the fireplace herself and ran a hand over the wall.

“I had to trade one of the last milk cows to Harry Frost to get him to come and repair this wall. And why did I have to pay with a cow? Me, the recently widowed Lady Falworth? I’ll tell you why...” and she moved to stand directly in front of Falworth, who eyed her with a sort of terrified fascination.

She poked her forefinger roughly into his chest. Pip closed his eyes and prayed as he watched his wife play dangerous games with a potential killer.

“Because every...single...thing of value in this pile of rubble was gone.” She punctuated her words with more pokes into Falworth. Amazingly, he looked around the room as if begging for someone to tell her to stop. “You had stripped this place of everything that had made it a house, a home, or even a shelter. We had hardly any food, no money, and your creditors were pounding on the front door. Do you know what I did for the first six months after you died? Do you?”

In full swing, she pursued Falworth in their strange dance around the room, Falworth backing away, and Allegra continually pushing him with her hands.

“I hid, Charles. Every time the knocker sounded, I ran away and hid. I was afraid it was yet another creditor with yet another bill I couldn’t pay. Do you have any idea what that’s like? Trying to keep some staff here so that I wouldn’t be completely alone and at the same time work out a way to pay off your debts? You selfish pig...”

Tears ran freely down her face and her voice had risen to a piercing level. “You left me with nothing. Not a teeny tiny thing. I spent years trying to remake the life that you ruined. Your death damn near killed me too.”

Falworth had continued backing away from his fierce attacker, and was attempting to slide out of her reach again when his heel caught on a frayed piece of carpeting. Completely off balance, he turned to try and break his fall as his body tipped and crashed to the floor.

In his confusion, he had forgotten that the knife was still in his hand.

There was absolute stillness in the room as everyone watched a pool of blood spread in an ever-expanding circle from the still body of Charles Falworth. Then Madame broke the spell by walking over to him and lifting his shoulder with her toe.

“Ach—bah. Dead. Stupid boy. I should have strangled ze idiot at birth.”

Allegra gasped, and her jaw dropped. “You’re his mother?” she squawked.

“But yes—you did not know?” shrugged Madame casually.

“No—I—he... he told me his parents had been killed after he was born...”

A sinister smile crossed Madame’s lips. “His papa was killed. So sad. Ze gun he was cleaning—it went off. Such a tragedy, eh?”

Allegra felt the hair on the back of her neck rise and tried very hard to suppress a shiver. She noticed Pip was watching everything—weighing the new situation, and obviously wondering if there was something he could do. Grace had turned her eyes away from Falworth’s body, and was swallowing. A lot.

The smile left Madame’s face as quickly as it had come, and the cold hard barrel of the gun was once again pressed into Allegra’s neck. “Now you will show me the safe, s’il vous plait..” Her tone was clear—she meant business.

“It’s over here now...” said Allegra, nodding towards the wall where a large rack of bookshelves rose from floor to ceiling. A thought flashed through her mind, and she glanced intently at Pip, trying to alert him with her eyes.

Pip’s expression blanked, and his gaze remained focused on his wife. Yes, thought Allegra—he’s ready.

She moved to one of the shelves and reached behind a pile of dusty books. She was obviously having some difficulty. “The catch—it seems to be stuck. Wait a minute, let me try again...” and once more she tried to move something behind the shelf. It was quite high, and she was standing almost on tiptoe.

“Madame, it’s not moving. It feels as though the wood has swollen or warped or something. I’m not able to budge it, I haven’t the strength. Perhaps my husband might...” Her gaze wandered innocently to Pip.

With a very unladylike expletive, Madame considered her options. Letting Pip loose was very unwise, but she had to know that if Allegra couldn’t move it, then it was unlikely that she herself, at all of five feet two inches, would be able to. Ally prayed she would realise that it would be better to retain control of the gun, that way Lord Allenbridge would be only too happy to follow instructions.

“Very well—release him. Zen you will stand here next to me and tell him what he is to be doing...” she said firmly, gesturing with the gun to make her point.

Allegra untied Pip’s hands as her pulse pounded with a rush of adrenaline. Bending down behind him, she whispered, “I love you, Pip”, and gently rubbed a little feeling back into them as he winced. Within seconds he had control back and his fingers clasped hers in a grip of iron for a few seconds.

“What should I do, Ally?” he mumbled, not wishing to make the situation any more dangerous than it was already. They glanced at each other, both knowing that Madame was a far more serious threat than her son, despite Falworth’s insane ramblings.

“If you reach behind those books...”

“Zut.” interrupted Madame. “You will come heeeere. Now. Immediatement.” And she pointed to the low ottoman next to her as she glared at Allegra.

Mentally cursing the woman to perdition, she obeyed the summons and sat down where she was bid. To her disgust, the gun resumed its position next to her head. Allegra closed her eyes and thought about how fed up she was getting of having people point weapons at her. Then she glanced over at the body that had once been Charles Falworth and shivered. It could be worse.

“Pip,” she recommenced, her voice calm in the silence. “If you reach down to the base of the shelf next to the wall, you’ll feel a small wooden lever. Push it to the right as far as it will go.”

For a moment, no one breathed. Then a small click punctuated the silence, and a portion of the shelving opened. It was a small space, but obviously big enough to hold the current Falworth strong box.

“The key is hanging on the inside of the door,” added Allegra, as Pip bent to look.

“Take it and open ze box. Now. Remember, I have ze lady here next to me,” and the “lady” winced as the gun poked her even harder.

Pip did as he was told and raised the lid of the box. “There’s nothing in here—it’s quite empty,” he said, turning to the women with a look of genuine puzzlement on his face.

“Ah—but is zat ze truth? Pity you will never know, eh?” and without turning a hair, Madame raised the gun and took deadly aim at Pip.

“No,” screamed Allegra, jumping up and knocking Madame off balance.

There was a tremendous explosion and small bits of plaster fell from the ceiling, showering everybody with white dust.

Suddenly, the room seemed to be full of people and Allegra turned to see the astounding site of Penelope standing in the doorway holding a smoking pistol.

Opening her mouth to ask what was going on, she discovered she couldn’t hear a thing—her ears were ringing with the deafening sound of Madame’s gun discharging in her ear. She put a hand to her head and brought it away—yes, she thought distractedly—I’m actually bleeding. I think I’ve been shot...

Stunned, she looked down to see Madame’s crumpled body lying at her feet. A large patch of red crept slowly from her side to the carpet, and she was ominously still.

Then Allegra’s vision disappeared as two strong arms clamped her against her husband’s chest. Her hearing returned as she realised that the rapid thumping sound was, in fact, Pip’s heart pounding like a hammer next to her head. Sounds pierced through to her brain as her hearing returned and it was Vivian Kendall’s voice.

“I say, Pip, she’s still alive.” He was bending over Madame’s body and had turned her over—her eyes opened, and she drew in a choking breath.

Holding tightly to Pip’s hand, Allegra bent down by the woman’s head and leaned toward her.

“Charles was...ze idiot—he should have stayed married to you...” she grimaced and coughed painfully.

Allegra had a couple of questions burning her brain. “Did you employ me because of who I was, Madame?”

The old woman’s lips twisted in the travesty of a grin. “At ze beginning, of course. Charles was still a long way from being whole again. Zere was ze better place to keep you under our eyes? I do not zink so.” She reached out and touched Allegra’s hand.

Willing herself not to shrink back from this horrible woman, Allegra stayed still, aware that her husband’s arms were around her and he was breathing rapidly.

“Zen, too, you were ze good helper. I did like you, Lady Allegggrrraa. But if we were going to get back into zis house for... for...” a bout of coughing again stopped Madame’s words, “we had to keep you nearby. You were our...how you say...ace in the cuff?”

“Actually, I think you mean ‘ace up our sleeve’,” said Vivian helpfully.

Three pairs of eyes turned and stared at him. He blushed. “Just trying to lend a hand, y’know...” he muttered.

“Now eez too late,” sighed Madame, ignoring Vivian’s interruption. “I should have known you would not let go of zose you love...” she whispered the last words as her eyes rolled back in her head and she gave an unpleasant gurgle.

Pip’s arms clamped Allegra even more tightly to his chest. “It’s over.”