Chapter Sixteen

T wo days later, Tate and Viv left Cantrell Manor for London. The day before, Tate had announced their betrothal to his household staff, and later he’d walked down to his tenants’ cottages in the vale and done the same to them. He returned to Viv to tell her how happy they were and how they encouraged her to go visit them when she returned as the lady of the manor.

“I hope by then I may feel as though I merit their regard,” she told him.

She’d grown more tormented since Tate and she had arrived at his estate. Once, she had lived here as a refugee, an immigrant, a girl without a home and only a few of her family left. Those in Tate’s little cottages had befriended her, made her one of their own despite her background and her language and her vain older sister. Viv had built a life here. A good one. Filled with laughter and accomplishment. She had learned how to raise chickens and ducks. Fat ones who were good layers. She had acquired an old donkey, whom she adored as much as the dear old gentleman loved her. She would not present herself to them until she was repaired of the rift in her heart and renewed in her soul. The only way to do that was to confront Charmaine, and she had impressed on Tate her desire to go south to see her sister as soon as possible.

“They welcome you to visit them soon. Especially Fred.”

She laughed.

“He gave me a loud talking-to about your whereabouts.”

“I long to see him, too,” she said, holding back tears. “When I am myself, it will happen.”

*

Two mornings later, they climbed into Tate’s traveling coach and headed south. Two of his maids had donated a few items of clothing to Viv. Save for her serviceable cloak, her clothes from the journey were nigh unto rags. As for Tate, he fared no better. But he would take items from his own dressing room in London. He also told her he would hire a modiste to attend her and create a garment for their wedding. The wedding, Tate and she assured each other, was more about what they would become to each other than any items they would wear for the occasion.

The next afternoon at dusk, Tate’s coachman pulled up to his house, 44 Berkeley Square. Viv had never been here before, and the facade of the house, only three stories tall, appeared modest. How wrong she was.

The entrance hall quickly took her breath away. She stood before a double Carrara marble staircase leading straight up to the first floor, then on to a balcony accessed by stairs against the back wall. Above her head was a plastered ceiling etched in gold filigree. The family crest took center stage, glimmering in the fading light of day shining through the tall Palladian windows at the front of the house. She stood, counting the plaster cherubs who danced upon the walls of the stairs.

“I’m not sure I am equipped to become lady of this house, sir.” Viv was agog at the beauty of the house and its furnishing and appointments.

Tate tipped up her chin and, in front of his butler, kissed her on the lips. “I have no doubts.”

Minutes later, when they were alone in the grand salon, she sought to explain. “I am sorry to be so…contrary. I do not question my desire to marry you.”

“Never question it, please. I love you, Vivienne. We will be good together.”

As solace for her weary mind, his words had her walking into his arms…and never parting from him again that night. The servants, she concluded, would think whatever they wished. They would marry. In a few days, too. And she loved him.

More than that, she had not yet told him.

First she would free her mind of the past. Settling her affairs with Charmaine would do much for how she faced a vast and glorious future with a man she adored.

*

Charmaine’s little cottage along the banks of the Thames was a charming brick and timber with a stone floor and three fireplaces to keep the great room warm. Viv climbed down from Tate’s traveling coach, her hand in his. They had spent only two nights in London. She wanted to confront Charmaine as soon as possible, for Viv could not live with the hideous facts she had learned.

She stared hard at the cottage.

Tate nodded. He would wait for her. His handsome blue-green eyes widened with a reassuring smile, and she had to reach up on her toes to kiss his firm lips. She marveled each day that he was to be her husband. In truth, he had been meant to be her mate in temperament and heart since she was sixteen. To have him soon in the sight of God and man overwhelmed her with humility and gratitude.

She let go of his hand and left him.

She had not written to alert her sister of her visit.

At that moment, a few sharp barks alerted Viv to the advance of an overjoyed Louis. The dog ran around the far corner of the cottage like his tiny heart depended on it, and as he drew nearer, he launched himself into Viv’s arms.

“Hello, pet! You missed me!” She giggled while the dog licked her throat and chin. “Take him, will you, Tate? I need to go in.” She handed over the squirming animal, who proceeded to lick Tate’s chin in welcome.

Viv trod onward to knock on the rough wooden door.

A maid Viv had hired last spring to assist Charmaine opened it and stepped aside with a soft welcome. The older woman was from Richmond’s town center, a person who had seen life and did not flinch from the looks of Viv’s sister. Mabel had previously assisted Alice, who had traveled with Viv to Paris.

“Your pelisse, miss?”

“No, thank you, Mabel. Is Alice not here?” From Norfolk, Viv had written to Alice and instructed that she was to take Louis and go to Charmaine’s. Viv would meet her there.

“She went into town, miss. She’s doing the shopping and returns soon.”

“I shall not stay here long. So if Alice returns and I have left, please give her my regards. I am pleased to see you are well.” Indeed, the woman was stout of body and of mind. Prior to working for Viv here, Mabel had nursed the ailing Duke of Banfield and his cantankerous wife on their nearby estate for many years. She was used to those who were diminished of body and spirit.

Charmaine sat in an oversized Chippendale chair, her posture erect, her arms to the rests, her gloved hands tapping the blood-red upholstery with her characteristic impatience.

For one wild moment, Viv saw her sister as the duplicate of Jocelyn Gatel’s invalid mother. Confined forevermore to the chair, she tried to maintain some dignity.

She spun to Mabel. “Do please wait outside while I speak with my sister.”

Charmaine leaned forward, dropped her head when she heard the door open and close, then asked, “Who’s there?”

Her hearing, like her eyesight, had begun to deteriorate before Viv had left England. Now too, her hair was gone. Or, at least, from the wisps Viv saw beneath the tight black cloche on her head, Charmaine had few strands left.

Viv strode forward, her compassion rising in her chest for the thin figure before her.

Charmaine wore a clean white muslin gown in voluminous folds around her. She also wore a veil. A woven net of gray, the veil obscured details. But the fall of the net from the brim of the cloche told Viv that her sister squinted at her. “Vivienne?” Charmaine’s voice cracked with strain. “Is that you?”

“Yes, Charmaine.” Viv strode forward and took the straight wooden chair opposite.

“You come from France?”

“I do.” Viv noted how Charmaine had stopped tapping on her armrest. “I come with news.”

Beneath the murky veil, thin lips spread wide. Triumph was the portrait of Charmaine in that moment.

Viv recoiled. “I had a successful debut in Paris. I was well received.”

Triumph went to joy. “No one knew?”

Viv opened her reticule, took out the two étui, and put them on the small table to her right. “I return your two étui to you.”

“You prevaricate.”

“I came to say goodbye.”

“What? Goodbye? You just got here!”

“I will be leaving after I tell you about those whom I met in Paris.”

Charmaine folded one gloved hand over the other. Satisfaction was now her demeanor. “As you should. Continue!”

“I earned rave reviews. Talleyrand and a few of his assistants. Bankers. A few British in Paris for the peace.”

“Ba! The filthy British. French don’t give a damn about a peace with the British.”

As well you know.

“Who else?”

Viv would not give her the satisfaction of names like Ashley or Ramsey. Certainly not Tate. “A few lovely ladies. Leaders of Society.”

“ Merde. ” Charmaine had always had a foul mouth. “Women! Did you find the scullery maid? The one I told you betrayed us to the police?”

“Jocelyn Gatel?” Viv pronounced her name with a certain relish. “ Oui , I did.”

Charmaine pulled back in her chair. “That was her name?”

“It is. But then, I think you knew it. Knew her very well.”

Wary now, Charmaine cocked her head to one side. “Why would I?”

“Because you paid her money.”

“I did no such thing.”

“Enough for her to do the task you assigned her.”

“ Oui. Keep us safe from the police,” she said like the practiced liar she was.

“You mean alert the police to our family’s flight from Paris.”

Beneath the veil, Charmaine’s mouth dropped open. “Absurd.”

“You also knew the man she attempted to persuade.”

Charmaine shrugged. “Some local gendarme.”

“ Oui. A gendarme. Not just any gendarme, but one who was handsome.”

“ Oui. ”

“A man cunning and destined to rise in rank.”

Alert as an animal being cornered, Charmaine flicked her head to one side. “What do you mean?”

Viv changed to the matter that tore at her. “You paid him two gold Louis.”

Charmaine froze.

“His task was to hire a few in the mob to take one of us from the coach.”

Charmaine scoffed. “You dream.”

“It is, in fact, a nightmare.” Viv leaned closer. “You paid him gold. I suspect you took it from Papa’s vault in the library.”

“This is ridiculous. How do you manufacture this?”

“Better is the question, how did you?”

“You are quite mad, Vivienne.”

“Yes, very mad. Quite outraged. Angry. Wild that my own sister, my flesh and blood, paid someone to have our sister abducted.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“You are insane.” Charmaine swept out a hand. The move was so swift, she startled in pain. “You have no proof.”

“I do, Charmaine. I do. What I want to know is, why?”

The woman sat silent as stone.

“Why? Hmm? I know. Diane was too pretty for your comfort. You didn’t care for anyone whom you considered a challenge.”

“Hell, there was you!” Charmaine pointed at Viv. “You looked just like me. The very image.”

“Yes, but I was young and so unlike you that you did not see me as a challenge. But Diane? Ah, yes. Our Diane was smart, wise to what happened in the Croix-Rouge in the tribunal.”

“What could I care for that, eh?” Charmaine growled.

“I suspect she caught you at your game.”

“No.”

“You learned she knew about your scheme to pay the maid or the man she met and kissed in the kitchen doorway. Diane knew, and you had to have her taken away. You had to have it appear to be an act of the mob.”

“No.”

“The abduction happened so easily, so according to your plan, that no one suspected. Not my mother and not me.” Viv caught her breath. “What you did not expect was that the man to whom you paid the two gold Louis would want greater payment.”

“No. No. This is fantasy. Get out.”

“Monsieur René Vaillancourt has had a stellar career in the French police. Handsome as the devil, charming as sin, he uses his intellect and his wiles ever so well. He is now deputy chief of police,” Viv declared with little satisfaction. “But you knew that.”

“Get out!” Charmaine pointed a shaking finger to the door.

“Oh, I will go. Believe me, I have no desire to stay longer than I need. But you will know this.” Viv stood. “Vaillancourt had me followed from the time I arrived on French soil near Rouen. He wanted to learn why you were in France. Fortunately for me, he questioned if the woman he saw was Charmaine…or someone almost exactly like her. When my own desire to learn what happened to Diane brought me to Monsieur Vaillancourt’s salon, he told me himself of the payment he demanded you give him for taking our sister from us.”

“He lies!”

“No, Charmaine. He has no reason to do that. He believes he paid you well for your services as his spy in London. Indeed, he gloats over his success. He counts the information you sent him about British men in politics as worth every penny he gave you.”

“How did he find out who you were? Did you tell him?” Charmaine was screeching.

“Oh, never fear. He was going to arrest me, but as we talked about your…career in espionage, he realized who I was. Your twin, but not. Your duplicate, but not.”

“You were supposed to go to Paris, pretend to be me, and kill the maid and him!”

“Yes. I failed. Poor fool you that you thought I had that in me. Poor fool me that I went with such sorrow in my heart for what happened to Diane that I sought revenge. And then I realized I could not. It was not in me. What I did do was my own bidding. I learned what happened to Diane, and why and how.”

“She died!” Charmaine said with such venom that Viv recoiled.

“She did.” Viv swallowed hard on the information she would now impart. “Vaillancourt had his gendarmes take her to Carmes. She lived there for years. I know not precisely how long, but she was still there when a few of my acquaintances were also imprisoned. They tell the tale of a young woman who aided the abused, the sick, the dying. A lady who fought the guards for good food and water and decent treatment. The men marked her as one who harassed them, and they punished her for it, brutally, often. Then came one other young woman into the prison whom they intended to starve. Diane gave the girl her own porridge. For that, she was taken away and never seen again.”

Viv wove, unsteady on her feet, yet drained of her anger at Charmaine. She was void of her despair at Diane’s loss. She could accept, finally, that her sister was gone, that she had lived true to herself, and now it was Viv’s purpose in life to give back to others love and support, just as Diane had done.

“You blamed yourself,” Charmaine had the audacity to say. “You were a child, yet you always talked about how you should have run to help catch her. Like Cantrell. Like your dog. I laughed at your foolishness.”

If Viv had not already come to terms with Diane’s loss, she would have slapped her sister.

“You have such a sense of honor,” Charmaine spat. “What does that get you, little bastard?”

“A life filled with the joy of love.” Viv turned and strode to the door.

“Wait!”

Viv paused but did not turn to face her.

“Wait. I—I need food. That maid you pay. And money.”

Viv opened the door wide to let in the sun—and to admire the view of the dashing man she loved standing in front of his carriage.

“You—you will return, won’t you?” Charmaine cried. No thanks, no apology—only her own self-interest graced her lips.

“Never,” was Viv’s last word.

*

Tate helped her into their carriage, then sat beside her. Louis had decided after Viv went into the cottage that wherever Tate and she went in that coach, he would go too. That was fine with Tate.

She sat silent, still and very pale. He took her into his arms and spoke near her ear. He’d predicated she would be undone by her confrontation with her sister. She had not told him the details of her encounters with Countess Nugent or René Vaillancourt. Viv’s long hours of contemplation of those visits were fair notice that he could wait until eternity for her to reveal the details. If perchance she did not, that too was her choice. He would accept it.

In the meantime, he could do a few things to alleviate any further suffering she had.

They were well on their way back to London when he removed her hat and said, “I am burning this thing tomorrow. I hate it.”

She rolled her eyes at him and gave him an actress’s outraged look. “My perfect little chapeau? How dreadful!”

“Truly.” He rolled his own eyes. “Black and yellow. Who wears those colors?”

“Canaries.”

“Yes, well.” He opened a window and threw the thing to the wind. “Not you.”

“Now I am not properly dressed.” She tsked.

He hugged her. “You cannot care.”

Louis sat on his seat opposite and watched them as if he expected a resolution.

“What do you say, Monsieur Louis, if we go to a quiet little house where no one else is about? No butlers, no maids. Only a vicar, his wife, and his oldest son?”

Viv wrapped her fingers around the wealth of Tate’s carefully tied cravat. “You know of such a place?”

“I do. The three wait for us to arrive, and then—”

“They leave?”

“They do.” He nodded. “After you and I are officially, irrevocably married.”

“You arranged this,” she said in awe.

“I did.”

“Yesterday?”

“After breakfast and my visit to obtain our marriage license, yes.”

“You are a wonder, Tate Cantrell. All my life, it seems, you have been there to grace me with the necessities of life—a cottage, a bit of money, a plot of land, two chickens to start my hutch. After that it was your friendship you gave, and lately your assistance.”

He traced the arch of her cheek. “And my criticism.”

“Justly so, too.” She glanced out the window. “I was not cut out to exact revenge—only to learn, if I could, what had happened to Diane.”

“And you did that.”

“Astonishing, isn’t it, that the scullery maid is still alive and was willing to speak to me? More surprising still that Vaillancourt told me what he did.”

Viv paused a moment, then turned to him. “Charmaine paid Jocelyn Gatel to influence Vaillancourt. He took advantage of the situation and told Gatel to get Charmaine to pay him, and he would do her bidding and kidnap Diane. He told them he wanted to learn where our father was. Whether Papa was captured because of anything Diane told them is something we will never know. But I doubt she said a word.”

She took a breath. “But Vaillancourt’s men caught Diane and sent her to Carmes. There, she—God love her—was her noble self and helped others. Standing up for those who could not help themselves, Diane made a reputation that the guards could not allow her to sustain. One day when another young woman was to be starved, Diane gave the girl her own food and the guards would have no more of her insubordination. They took her away and killed her.”

Tate held Viv against him, her tale draining her of all movement. Long minutes later, she stirred. “But the story does not end there.” She caught Tate’s gaze and held it. “Vaillancourt was not satisfied with Charmaine’s so-called payment. Two gold Louis, it was. Pitiful.” She scoffed. “How or when, Vaillancourt did not say, but he made Charmaine serve him as an agent in London.”

Tate could not say he was surprised. Scarlett Hawthorne had spoken often of those émigrés in London and Edinburgh who frequented drawing rooms where delicate political and economic news was often shared. Scarlett, as well as those in the Home Office, suspected many of espionage. “Is that why he had his men arrest you?”

“Yes. He meant to put Charmaine away, I do believe. Would he accuse her of dereliction of duty, perhaps? Or acting as a double agent?”

“Joseph Fouché puts people away on less evidence,” Tate said. “But Vaillancourt did not have the chance to take you away.”

“No.” She kissed him with a merry grin. “He did not. You were there. You are always there for me. Oh, that I may return the honor—”

“You owe me nothing, Viv.”

She cupped his cheek. “But I will give to you all that I am, for all my days and beyond. I love you, Tate Cantrell. I have for many, many years. I would have loved to marry you when I was sixteen. Would have loved to comfort you when you were treated so poorly by your father. But now I have the opportunity to give you all the love I bore for you then, and bear for you now, and want to share with you for all our lives.”

He kissed her then with a fierce joy that he had never before felt.

“I love you,” she whispered, and kissed him with all the caring she had held for him and had never been able to show him.

Many kisses later, Tate sat back. “So then, my darling, may I assume you like the idea of marrying me this afternoon?”

She grinned, put her hand around his nape, and sank her fingers into his silken hair. “I do. I do indeed! How do you perceive such things?”

He kissed her again. “I thought after that, we would stay in our cocoon for a few days.”

“A week.”

“Very well. A week.”

“Or two?”

He laughed. “Two!”

“Wonderful! By then you will be very bored with just me and ready to greet your friends.”

He clamped her closer. “I have a few things I wish to teach you that are far from boring.”

Her eyes sparkled with interest. “Begin now, my darling. I love you, and I promise to be a good student.”