CHAPTER 22
There was a long moment of silence as Carrick fiddled with the folds of his cravat. “To gift his innovation to the French radicals. During our visit to France to attend the Parisian scientific society’s symposium on travel, he met a group of social agitators and admired their idealism.”
“Our society’s president was the go-between,” explained Mademoiselle Benoit. “Jean-Paul Montaigne and one of the leaders of the radicals have been friends since childhood, and Montaigne shares the group’s egalitarian beliefs. In fact . . .”
She looked to Carrick for an instant and then blew out her breath. “In fact, he is a staunch supporter of Napoleon and the reforms the former emperor made in France to break the stranglehold the idle rich had on the country.”
Wrexford felt a chill slither down his spine at the mention of Napoleon. “But the emperor is no longer in any position to change the world—for better or for worse. Now that he has been exiled to Elba, his only empire is a tiny speck of an island off the coast of Italy.”
“Which lies only 170 miles from France,” murmured Mrs. Guppy.
The earl frowned. He wanted to dismiss the idea as absurd.
But he had talked to enough of his military friends to know that the situation in Europe was more fraught than the British government wished to admit.
Despite all the eloquent talk of camaraderie and cooperation at the Peace Conference taking place in Vienna, the European rulers were at each other’s throats.
The Continent needed to be rebuilt from the rubble of war, and they were all vying for any advantage that would make them more powerful and prosperous than their neighbors. . .
It was Charlotte who gave voice to the question that was forming in his head.
“Are you saying that the radicals plan to use Milton’s innovation in some way to help Napoleon return to the throne?”
“Yes!” Carrick, Mrs. Guppy, and Mademoiselle Benoit all answered in unison.
Cordelia broke the stunned silence with an uncertain laugh. “Surely you’re jesting.”
“I wish that were so,” replied Carrick. “The radicals have been secretly negotiating with Russia to sell them Milton’s innovation for an ungodly sum of money.
Tsar Alexander is desperate to modernize his country, and the fact that Russia has very little sea access limits its opportunities for international commerce.
The ability to build a sophisticated network of roads and bridges within his vast empire and then connect it with the rest of Europe would make Russia an economic power. ”
“And then,” intoned Mademoiselle Benoit, “the radicals plan to give that money to Napoleon to finance his return to France.”
“The people of France—” began Sheffield.
“The people of France will welcome him back with open arms,” said Mademoiselle Benoit.
Wrexford didn’t disagree. The Bourbon king been restored to the throne by the Allied Coalition, but he was much despised by his subjects.
“You value facts, milord, so allow me to explain how we know all this,” offered Mrs. Guppy.
A nod.
“During the time when Milton and Oliver were visiting Paris for the scientific symposium, Isabelle—that is, Mademoiselle Benoit—overhead Montaigne explaining to his radical friend that Milton possessed a momentous secret, one that would be worth a fortune. The two of them then came up with a plan to convince Milton to put his idealism into action. Montaigne knew Milton admired many of the reforms made by Napoleon, and he was clever enough to craft a speech describing a utopian vision of Europe rising from the ashes of war into a confederation of prosperous, peaceful nations all tied together by Milton’s wondrous bridges and improved roads. ”
“It was seductive. Jasper imagined himself as a hero for the ages,” said Carrick. “I tried to point out the realities of Napoleonic France and the fact that it was not all sweetness and light. But he chose to believe only what he wanted to believe.”
A sigh, as he turned with an apologetic shrug to Cordelia.
“Jasper had changed over the last year. An arrogance had crept into his once self-deprecating demeanor. It was as if his undeniable scientific genius had made him think that his view on any subject was the correct one. There was no arguing with him once his mind was made up.”
“Heaven knows I tried everything to get him to see the situation more clearly,” announced Mademoiselle Benoit. “Oliver and I were worried that Milton would hand over his secret without further consideration. So we decided . . .”
A flush rose to her cheeks. “We decided that I should try to charm him and win his friendship so that I might offer subtle advice.” She gave a wry grimace. “Alas, I was not very successful.”
“It was I who asked her to try such wiles, and she selflessly agreed,” interjected Carrick. “We became friends at a conference two years ago and have corresponded—”
“Lord Wrexford doesn’t need a full account of your romantic entanglement,” chided Mrs. Guppy with a fond smile.
“Suffice it to say, Oliver and Isabelle are engaged, and in the spirit of complete candor, I’ll add that the three of us have formed a business venture and are currently working together on a way to build better bridges using more conventional ideas than those of Jasper Milton. ”
“You did mention that time was of the essence,” said the earl. “And yet I still am not quite sure where all this is going.”
“It’s complicated, milord. Bear with me a little longer. I’m nearly finished with the explanation.”
He nodded for Mrs. Guppy to continue.
“So, we’ve now come to Oliver’s initial assertion that he intended to make one last attempt to sway Milton on the night of his murder, for he knew that Milton was planning to meet the French radicals at the Three Crowns Inn on the Cambridgeshire Turnpike to give them his innovation.”
“I was going to appeal to his conscience, pointing out that war would likely explode again if Napoleon returned to the throne of France, bringing death and destruction to countless innocent souls. But as I’ve said, I never had the chance.”
Carrick blew out his breath. “However, we have just learned that Mercer Wayland has arranged a rendezvous with the radicals in order to sell them Milton’s papers, though God only knows how he obtained them. Perhaps he’s in league with Garfield—”
“Garfield was murdered earlier this evening,” interrupted Wrexford, deciding to reveal the news now and see if it would work to his advantage. “He drew an O and a C on the floorboard with his own blood just before he died. And as we’ve just heard, you’ve been hiding out in the city by yourself.”
He allowed a deliberate pause. “So forgive me if I wonder whether everything I’ve just heard is a lie and it was you who stabbed him in the heart—just as you did Milton?”
Carrick looked uttered shocked and bewildered by the revelation. “I—I,” he stuttered, finally managing to find his voice. “I can only assure you that I did not kill poor Kendall.” A helpless shrug. “But I can’t prove it to you.”
“I swear, Oliver is innocent,” exclaimed Mademoiselle Benoit. “Murder goes against everything we believe in.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “We are trying to prevent more bloodshed.”
“Then why would Garfield have drawn an O and a C?” demanded Sheffield.
Carrick hesitated and then expelled a resigned sigh. “I—I haven’t a clue.”
“Perhaps if we finish our explanation, it will help convince you of Oliver’s innocence,” said Mademoiselle Benoit. “Oliver and I have been planning to steal Milton’s papers from the radicals if they managed to acquire them.” She swallowed hard. “So that they can’t be used for evil.”
“Isabelle has convinced Montaigne that she is an ardent supporter of the radicals and the return of Napoleon to the throne of France,” explained Carrick.
“And that now brings us to the present,” said Mrs. Guppy. “And why we decided to accept Raven’s offer to take us to meet you.”
“We are hoping you can help—” began Carrick.
“Have you any evidence to prove that there is a single grain of truth in what you have told us?” asked Wrexford.
“Actually, we do,” replied Mrs. Guppy. “In a manner of speaking.”
“At this point, I’m in no mood for word games, madam. Speak plainly—and I suggest that you do your damnedest to be convincing.”
Mrs. Guppy met his ire with an air of unruffled calm. “We’ve just learned that Mercer Wayland has arranged a meeting for tomorrow night—or rather, this evening—with Montaigne and his radical friend in order to pass over Milton’s papers.” A pause. “We also know the location.”
“Raven implied that you have some experience in dealing with skullduggery,” added mademoiselle.
“What, precisely, are you looking for me to do?” countered Wrexford.
“We are hoping that you will stop the Frenchmen from taking Milton’s innovation and funding the return of death and destruction to the Continent,” piped up Carrick.
“And are you also hoping that I will give the papers to your newly formed business venture?”
Mrs. Guppy looked surprised by the question . . . and then her expression turned thoughtful. “Given your reputation for unflinching honor and integrity, sir, I shall happily leave that decision to you.”
Outside the mullioned windows, the moonlight was swallowed by darkness as clouds scudded over the night sky. Rain began to patter against the glass.
“So . . .” Mrs. Guppy fisted her hands together, “will you agree to take charge of ensuring that Milton’s papers don’t get passed to the French?”
Wrexford looked to Charlotte. Their eyes met for a heartbeat, and he knew his answer.
“Yes.”
“How are you going to stop the exchange?” asked Carrick.
“Never mind, Oliver,” counseled Cordelia. “Raven was right—Lord Wrexford is no stranger to skullduggery.”
The less said about their methods, the better, thought Wrexford, and then turned his attention to the logistics of retrieving Milton’s papers.
“Now that we’ve come to a meeting of minds, exactly where and when is Wayland meeting the French radicals?”