CHAPTER 22 #2
“But a genius like da Vinci and the story of a long-lost manuscript is most likely to capture the imagination of potential investors,” observed Sheffield.
“My involvement in business has given me an opportunity to observe people who wish to sell their goods or services to others. The best of them are skilled showmen. They appeal to emotion as well as practicality.”
“You mean that they create an aura of desirability about a product?” mused the earl.
“Look at Josiah Wedgwood,” responded Sheffield. “His genius lay in doing just that. In fact, it was he who thought of the idea of giving his pottery to influential people to create an aura of exclusivity and build demand.”
“Interesting,” said the earl.
Cordelia—who prided herself on practicality—tapped her fingertips together. “So, how do we discern the truth about the consortium? Do we simply wait for their gala reception, which takes place in two days, and see what they say?”
For a long moment, the only sounds were the clink of cutlery as Sheffield helped himself to eggs and gammon.
And then Wrexford cleared his throat. “I confess, my first instinct is to confront Taviot, now that we have material evidence proving his crime.” A pause.
“However, last night’s encounter with one of Taviot’s conspirators makes me realize the danger of allowing my emotions to get the better of me.
We have the rule of law to deal with criminals. ”
Clasping his hands behind his back, the earl moved to the windows overlooking the back gardens. “So I intend to send word to Griffin and arrange a private meeting with him to explain what I have learned and pass over the evidence.”
Charlotte couldn’t hold back a hiss of relief. “I think that is extremely wise, Wrex.” She shot him a look of gratitude. “Passions don’t make for good life-and-death decisions.”
Before the earl could react, a discreet knock interrupted the exchange. “Forgive me, milord and milady,” intoned their butler, “but Herr von Münch is requesting to see you. He apologizes for the early hour but says it’s quite urgent.”
Wrexford glanced around at the others.
“I assumed that you would wish for him to wait in the main drawing room,” added Riche, “rather than have me bring him here.”
“Thank you. M’lady and I will join him there in a moment.” He met Charlotte’s gaze. “Much as I like the fellow, there is no need for him to know about our inner circle.”
* * *
“My apologies for intruding at such an ungodly hour,” said von Münch as he turned from studying a watercolor painting of a stormy seascape and inclined a polite nod.
“What a very interesting work of art. The nuances of light and the illusion of motion are remarkable, allowing the artist to capture the raw power of Nature.”
“Mr. Turner possesses extraordinary talents,” said Charlotte. “He helps one to see the very essence of his subject.”
“Indeed,” responded von Münch, his eyes crinkling in thought. “Rather like your gadfly satirical artist A. J. Quill. The fellow makes you think—and feel.” A wry smile. “No matter if it’s uncomfortable at times.”
The remark caught Wrexford’s attention. Since his recent involvement with Pierson, who was one of the government’s top intelligence operatives, he couldn’t help feeling suspicious when a relative stranger mentioned Charlotte’s pen name.
“Art is meant to challenge one’s preconceptions,” Charlotte replied. “You have a perceptive eye, Herr von Münch.” A smile. “But I daresay you haven’t come here to talk about art.”
“I would greatly enjoy such an exchange, milady,” he said.
“Regretfully, you are right. We have more pressing matters to discuss.” His lips thinned for a moment.
“I took a rather hurried leave from you last time I was here because the glass of wine you kindly offered suddenly reminded me of something I had overheard recently.”
He turned to the earl. “A current member of King Frederick’s personal staff was stationed in the wine region of Portugal during the Peninsular War to ensure that the flow of the country’s famous ports to Württemberg suffered no interruptions.
” He cleared his throat with a cough. “As you know, my king has a prodigious appetite for sumptuous food and drink.”
“And precious little conscience about what he must do to possess them,” observed Wrexford.
“You will get no argument from me on that. However, let’s put aside the king’s peccadilloes for now.”
Wrexford heard a note of rising excitement in the librarian’s voice.
“I’m here because I am all but certain that I have discovered the name of your elusive traitor!”
The announcement seemed to hang suspended, sending ripples through the air.
“Let me guess,” he replied. “You’re going to tell us that it’s Lord Taviot.”
Surprise flitted across von Münch’s face.
“We just learned of it ourselves,” interjected Charlotte, with an apologetic shrug. “We were going to send word to you this morning.”
“It turned that your French friend Dalambert’s comrade decided to be forthcoming with the traitor’s name,” added Wrexford in explanation. “But how did you uncover it?”
“One of the king’s wine stewards lived in the city of Oporto, the heart of Portugal’s famous vineyard area, where he was part of the wine merchant fraternity,” answered von Münch.
“Naturally, gossip flowed among its members, along with a surfeit of spirits, and he heard of a profitable illegal enterprise that was smuggling shipments of port into Britain without paying the excise tax. It was a very clever system. A diplomat in Lisbon would keep track of the British navy convoys moving military men and supplies back and forth between Britain and the Peninsula, then send word when it was safe for the smugglers’ ships to make the passage to the Cornish coast.”
“And I take it the diplomat was Lord Taviot,” said the earl.
“Yes. I pressed my Württemberg colleague, and he was able to remember that the British consul in Oporto had once let the name slip out when he was drunk and boasting of his cut of the profits.”
“So, we have yet another nail with which to hammer home the miscreant’s guilt,” announced Charlotte with quiet satisfaction.
Wrexford watched the breeze ruffle through the twines of ivy framing the windows. He wasn’t quite as convinced.
She read his expression and took a moment to interpret his silence. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s just that something isn’t quite adding up for me,” he said softly.
Von Münch appeared confused. “B-But surely there couldn’t have been two traitors within the British diplomatic delegation?”
“And yet why risk getting caught in a smuggling operation when that would likely expose his far more serious crime?” said Wrexford. “We know he’s ruthlessly clever . . . and the only reason he would do so is for money.”
A frown. “But it makes no sense financially. He would have been making far more money betraying his country than from being a partner in a smuggling ring.”
“Greed often overpowers reason,” pointed out Charlotte.
Wrexford shifted abruptly and caught the librarian studying him with a searching stare. Charlotte was right—he had a perceptive eye.
What are you trying to see, Herr von Münch?
For a moment, the earl found himself wondering whether the librarian’s steadfast help should be viewed in a darker light. It suddenly struck him that von Münch had been the one who had been passing them the most important clues....
But he shook off such suspicious thoughts. “You’re right. Money can poison one’s mind. Be that as it may, we have solid evidence that Taviot is guilty of the greater crime.”
“What are you going to do about it?” ventured von Münch.
“Vengeance is not the same as justice. I am going to hand over the incriminating information to the authorities. It will be up to the law of the land to judge him and decide his punishment.”
The librarian gave a brusque nod. “I am not a ghoulish soul, but I shall not shed a tear when the Earl of Taviot is dancing the hangman’s jig.”
“May I offer you some tea? Or a stronger libation, Herr von Münch?” asked Charlotte.
“Thank you, but I won’t impose upon your time any longer.” A polite bow. “I’m sure you have a great many things on your mind.”
“I’ll see you out,” said Wrexford, hoping his conflicted thoughts weren’t too obvious to the librarian. Charlotte, he knew, would have sensed the change in his mood.
Sure enough, she was waiting in the corridor when he returned. “Is there something I don’t know that has turned you against von Münch?”
“From the very beginning, he’s expressed a remarkable commitment to helping us ensure that justice is done for Greeley,” said the earl carefully. “And through his diligence we have made a number of important discoveries.”
Charlotte raised her brows. “And you hold that against him?”
Put that way, it sounded absurd.
“Let’s just say that there are some strange coincidences,” he replied. “Through von Münch’s connections, we find a copy of the missing manuscript—”
“Wasn’t it Greeley’s assistant who first learned that a copy might be at Buckingham House?” she interrupted. “You could have easily gained access to the King’s Library without his help.”
The earl didn’t argue. “And then the fellow just happens to have contacts that result in us meeting the French intelligence officer who could identify a British traitor. A traitor, I might add, who has eluded our head of state security and his operatives.” He frowned.
“Grentham’s reputation for ruthlessness is well earned. He’s extremely good at what he does.”
Charlotte’s eyes took on a challenging gleam. “But he doesn’t know every secret.”
Wrexford wasn’t entirely sure about that, but he decided not to spit in Lady Luck’s eye by saying so.
“As for von Münch’s ability to track down the French officers, his explanation rings true to my ears,” she added. “The king of Württemberg was Napoleon’s ally, and his troops were working with the French during the Peninsular War.”
“In this case, it is you who are being the voice of reason,” he admitted. “You’re an excellent judge of people, and what you say makes rational sense. I like von Münch, too.” A wry grimace pinched at his mouth. “Which is why I’m taking pains to look at him from all perspectives.”
She allowed a ghost of a smile. “Put in artistic terms like that, I can hardly disagree. Let us exercise caution in what we reveal to him as we seek to take the final steps in bringing the miscreants to justice.” The smile grew more pronounced.
“But let us also not let vague suspicions color our thinking.”
“Fair enough.” Wrexford gestured toward the back of the townhouse.
“And now we ought to return to the others. Kit needs to get some sleep before he nods off into his plate of shirred eggs. But after that, I’d like for him to arrange a meeting with his friend Maudslay and find out whether the fellow was experimenting with propellers. ”
He rubbed at his chin. “As for Cordelia, I’d like for her to visit Hedley and see if there are some mathematical calculations that can be made to predict how much power a steam engine would need to generate in order for a propeller to move a ship through stormy ocean waters.”
He made a face. “Granted, I have no emotional investment in whether Taviot’s consortium is legitimate or a fraud. But as a matter of principle, I dislike seeing anyone being cheated out of their money.”
“And I shall think about what sort of provocative drawing I can do about a propeller that will grab the public’s attention,” mused Charlotte.
“The fact that an American designed a warship using propeller technology may make some waves here in Britain, especially if I hint that advances in steam-driven propellers are on the cusp of changing how we navigate the world around us.”
Wrexford didn’t demur. It was time to put a stop to the evil emanating from Taviot—in all its guises.