Chapter 30
I managed—by sheer good fortune or the grace of God—to avoid catching too much of a chill in the events at the river.
Or possibly, it was the blankets Brewster wrapped me in and the brandy he poured down my throat once he’d bundled me into Denis’s carriage.
He got me home without Captain Vernet waylaying me, and left me with Bartholomew, who stripped me of my wet clothes, plunged me into a hot bath, and then shoveled me directly into bed.
Moreau did not fare as well. I heard, via a letter from Madame Paillard, that the poor fellow, whom we’d conveyed to her home in the Presqu’?le, was quite ill.
He had swallowed a quantity of river water, which at that point was none too clean, and had to contend with the cuts Madame Jourdain had inflicted on him.
As neither Donata nor Brewster would let me out of bed for the next several days, despite my insistence, I could only wish the man well.
A more pleasant aspect of my confinement was that Gabriella came to dote on me.
She arrived the day after my adventure, flushed and beautiful in her new matronly attire, to bring me a thick, very tasty soup. I did not at all like to think about what had put the pinkness in her cheeks or the flutter in her laugh. I would need to avoid Emile for a time.
Grenville had also caught the sniffles as he’d walked about in the rain, but he’d been well enough to visit me and explain how they’d come to be there to capture Madame Jourdain.
When Denis’s coachman had left Moreau and me in La Guillotière, the man had decided to report our whereabouts to Denis.
He’d found Denis in his agent’s office on the plaza, Brewster and Grenville with him, where they’d paused in their search to wait out the rain.
Once the man had explained that we’d rushed from the townhouse to La Guillotière, Grenville had insisted on sending for the gendarmes.
Denis and Brewster had proceeded to the bridge in the coach, but had to wait under shelter on the island side of the Rh?ne because of the storm.
Once the rain and lightning began to ease, they’d crossed, sweeping up Vernet along the way, to find us climbing out of the water, and Madame Jourdain trying to flee.
Madame Jourdain had been arrested for Gallo’s murder and waited in the cells of the gendarmerie for her hearing before a magistrate.
The gendarmes had found Madame Martin where I’d told Vernet she would be.
Her wounds were being tended, and she’d live, but she too was under arrest for assaulting and abducting Signora Ruggeri.
Signora Ruggeri’s protective coachman had bundled her away somewhere, Grenville knew not where. Out of reach of Vernet, we both assumed.
Grenville ended his visit with well wishes from Marianne, and I took the opportunity to congratulate him on his upcoming offspring. Grenville thanked me with a mixture of pride and trepidation.
A few after this, I at last convinced Donata to allow me to go downstairs to the library.
I was penning a reply to another letter from Madame Paillard, which gave me the welcome news that Moreau had turned for the better, when Bartholomew announced that I had a visitor.
“Who is it?” I asked without looking up. If it was no one I wished to see, I could feign illness to avoid the encounter.
“It’s that actress,” Bartholomew replied. “Signora Ruggeri.” He held out her engraved card.
I raised my brows, laid aside my pen, took up the card, and followed him to the sitting room.
I noted when I entered that Signora Ruggeri had dressed plainly, in a narrow gown of dull brown without much ornamentation. She appeared subdued, as though she used the ensemble to avoid attention.
Signora Ruggeri surged to her feet when I entered. “Captain Lacey.” She bobbed a stiff curtsy. “I heard you were unwell.”
I bowed in return. “Only mildly. You seem to have fared better than I or Moreau did.”
She shrugged. “My coachman got me to a warm place quickly enough. Besides, I rarely take ill.”
“Yes, you told me you were used to boats and water. I suppose you gain a hardiness from them.”
“Possibly.” Signora Ruggeri lifted her chin. “I am returning to England.”
“To Manchester?”
“Mayhap. I met an actor-manager at Mrs. Grenville’s soiree who has offered me a place in his company. Mrs. Grenville put in a good word for me.”
“Did she?” I wondered if Marianne had done so from sympathy or from recognition of Signora Ruggeri’s talent. After all, she’d fooled an entire city for a time into believing she was someone she was not. “I am glad for you.”
“No more Signora Ruggeri from Padua.” She spoke the words in her florid Italian accent, then dropped it. “Miss Cooke I will be again.”
“Who knows what Miss Cooke might become?” I said. “You have much of your life ahead to find out.”
Signora Ruggeri appeared more resigned than excited about that prospect. “I must thank you and Colonel Moreau, twice—once for rescuing me from that awful river and then for convincing Captain Vernet that I had nothing to do with Vincenzo’s death.”
“You did not,” I said with conviction. “As you told me, that was all Madame Jourdain.”
“Poor Vincenzo.” Signora Ruggeri sank to the chair I gestured her to and laid her gloved hands in her lap. “He came after me that night at the comtesse’s chateau, because he was certain I had betrayed him. I’d taken all the papers out of his reach, you see.”
“Ah.” I sank down, easing my sore knee. “I had suspected something of the sort. But you were really keeping them from Madame Jourdain and Madame Martin.”
A nod. “Madame Jourdain had become too interested in what we’d collected.
Gallo was the one who’d suggested the townhouse in the Presqu’?le—he said because its housekeeper would let him in to see me when the comte wasn’t there.
She was Madame Jourdain’s sister and would understand.
It was not difficult for me to persuade the comte to let me live there. ”
The comte had been so infatuated with Signora Ruggeri at that point, that he’d have given her anything she asked.
“But you became suspicious of Madame Martin?”
“Almost at once. I had taken the ledger we used to tot up the figures of those who’d paid.
I’d hidden it in the parlor where I met those who called to hand over their money, but I found Madame Martin leafing through it one day.
She at first scolded me for my sordidness then offered to assist in our venture.
For a share of the profit, of course. Eventually, she began to threaten me.
She told me she’d have her sister find the papers Vincenzo had hidden in the La Guillotière house and simply take over our business if I did not capitulate. ”
“Then you convinced the comte to move you yet again.”
“I did. I know I incurred the wrath of everyone in Lyon, but I was less afraid of them than Madame Martin. I didn’t dare sleep at night when she stayed in the house, and I was highly nervous.
Once I settled into the villa, I went back to La Guillotière, waited until everyone was out, then crept in and took the papers. ”
“But you left the ledger behind in the townhouse.”
Signora Ruggeri shook her head. “There were too many servants packing up my things when I left for me to fetch the ledger. I’d hoped to return to the house when Madame Martin was out, but I had no opportunity. The day I tried, a mob waylaid me in the square.” She shivered.
“I recall.” So, I had been correct that she’d been to the townhouse that morning, though I’d been slightly wrong about the reason.
“I stored Gallo’s papers for a time at the villa,” Signora Ruggeri continued.
“But I was still afraid. One of the maids at the villa said she was cousin to Madame Martin and Madame Jourdain. She dropped the remark in an offhand way, and she might have simply been passing the time of day, but I feared she meant to aid them. So, I needed a better hiding place.”
My eyes widened as I thought through all the places she could have deposited them. “Do not tell me you took them to the comtesse’s chateau.”
Another nod, but this time a smile danced on Signora Ruggeri’s lips.
“No one would ever gain entry there without the comtesse’s permission.
It was a bold plan, I know, but I felt I had no choice.
The comte had told me with pride about the old house and the tunnels beneath.
I went around the back of the chateau while all the comtesse’s guests were pouring in the front and hid the box. ”
“And then kicked up a row at the front door, demanding the comte admit you,” I said, “I was there that night. It was quite a performance.”
Signora Ruggeri flushed. “My plan was for the comte to let me in, if only to make me be quiet. Then I would slip down to the tunnels, retrieve the box, hide it, then pretend to retreat to my own house in shame.” She sighed.
“But the comte was not at home, and the comtesse, to my amazement, took me in. She was kind to me, and the kindness was not feigned.” Signora Ruggeri’s voice held respect.
“I’ve never met a woman like her. The comte does not deserve her. ” She finished with conviction.
“I agree with you. Were you able to retrieve the box from the tunnels?”
“I did. I took it to the dressing room of the bedchamber given me. They supposed I’d slept late—an indolent woman—but really I was thoroughly hiding the papers.”
“The only paper you did not have was the Italian letter you stole from the comte.”
Signora Ruggeri smiled again. “You know much, Captain. Vincenzo had hidden that so well I could not find it. I assumed he’d let me have it when I negotiated a good price from the comte.”
“You also gave Gallo the name of Lucien Potier.”
Her smile vanished. “Yes, but I soon learned that even saying the name earned one censure and even threats. We never did discover why.”
“The man was more hated even than you and Gallo,” I said, but I gentled my voice. “Wise of you to not pursue that avenue.”
“I believe so,” Signora Ruggeri agreed. Tears moistened her eyes. “I was dazed when I heard that Vincenzo had been killed. I hadn’t loved him in a long while—we were partners in business only once we arrived in Lyon—but I’d known him for years, and at one time, we’d been very close.”
“Madame Jourdain has confessed to Vernet that she murdered him,” I said.
“So I have learned.” Signora Ruggeri heaved a heavier sigh.
“She came after him that night, she told me, believing that he knew where I’d taken the papers.
According to her, Vincenzo claimed—rightly—that he had no idea where the letters had gone, and wouldn’t tell her even when he was dying.
She simply left him there and stamped home.
She was a madwoman, and her sister wasn’t much better. ”
I nodded. “Madame Jourdain struck down Madame Martin as well.”
“Yes, it was terrifying. The two of them were going to make me tell them where the papers were, but then they got into a quarrel as to who would take the lion’s share of the profits.
I tried to get away while they were fighting, but Madame Jourdain caught me.
She took me to that boat …” True fear entered her voice.
“She planned to take me downriver where she could kill me if I wouldn’t tell her.
She’d have killed me anyway.” She shuddered.
“I can only thank you once more, Captain.”
“You can reward me for my valor by letting me have those papers,” I said pointedly.
“I brought them.” Signora Ruggeri regarded me tiredly.
“I went to the comtesse, told her everything, and asked for them. She offered to burn the lot herself, but I didn’t trust that someone in her house wouldn’t try to make use of them.
I trust you, Captain, to release the people we held in thrall.
I am ashamed, but when one is desperate, one so easily resorts to villainy. ”
Her entreaty, made while she gazed intensely at me with liquid brown eyes, helped me understand how she’d ensnared the comte, Gallo, and any other man who’d crossed her path. My heart wanted to warm with her flattery, but my common sense reminded me that she was indeed a gifted actress.
“I will destroy the letters, of course,” I said. “Never fear. The ledger as well. My man has hidden that somewhere, but I trust him to unearth it for me again.” I hoped Brewster hadn’t literally buried it, but I honestly had no idea what he’d done.
Signora Ruggeri rose. “Then I will leave you to it. I give you my word that every single thing Vincenzo and I collected is in that box. I never want to see those papers again.”
Her disgust made me believe her. How long Signora Ruggeri would remain on the path of righteousness, I could not tell, but her true terror on the river would likely make her step back from crime for a while.
“Is your coachman going with you?” I asked her.
A flush stained her cheeks. “He is. Dumont has been with me from the beginning of my journey and has become a loyal friend. I believe he is sweet on me, poor man, but I will treat him kindly.”
I was not certain whether she had true fondness for Dumont or simply saw his usefulness, but her eyes did soften when she spoke of him.
“Be well, Miss Cooke.” I took her hands, dared to kiss her cheeks in the French fashion, and then released her.
Signora Ruggeri studied me closely for an alarming moment, as though assessing what sort of protector I’d be, then she shook her head.
“I will try, Captain Lacey. Good-bye.”
“Godspeed.”
Signora Ruggeri bathed me in one more smile, then turned and glided through the door Bartholomew opened for her, as though on cue. A perfect exit.
I heard Bartholomew direct her down the hall and then front door open and shut. After a few moments, carriage wheels grated on the graveled drive, and Signora Ruggeri was gone.
Bartholomew returned presently with coffee for me, followed by his brother, Matthias, a signal that Grenville had returned. Matthias bore a large box with a stout lock.
“She left this for you, Captain,” Bartholomew said as Matthias set the box squarely on an empty table in the corner of the room. “Oh, and this too.”
With a grin, Bartholomew produced a key from his pocket and laid it on my open palm.