Chapter 31
Grenville, Donata, and I spent the rest of the afternoon sorting through the papers and letters, cross-referencing them with the ledger Brewster brought out of hiding.
Brewster helped Matthias build a large bonfire in the garden, and we burned the entire contents of the box, save for Madame Paillard’s letter. That, I would return to her personally.
I opened her letter only enough to ascertain that it was the one she sought, then I folded it again and wrapped it in another paper. Though I was curious, it was Madame Paillard’s secret. It would be up to her to tell me what the letter contained, if she wished.
We decided to take the ledger to the comtesse and let her inform those inside it that they no longer had to fear. They would have more confidence in her, I concluded, not the interfering foreigners.
A few days later, I tucked Madame Paillard’s letter into my pocket and made my way to the Presqu’?le and her cozy home.
Moreau was with her. His face was pale and drawn, but when he shook my hand when I was shown into the sitting room, his grip was strong.
Madame Paillard drew me down to kiss my cheeks and then warmly embraced me.
“You are much welcome here, Captain.” She kissed me again before releasing me. “You have done me so many good deeds that I can never repay you.”
I cleared my throat, uncomfortable with her adulation. “I have done very little, I assure you, Madame.”
“Very little.” Madame Paillard’s laughter tinkled as she led me to a sofa. “The English are famous for pushing away praise. Saving my Nico’s life and sending him home to me was not little.”
Moreau, who appeared as embarrassed by her gushing as I was, gave me a nod. “I owe you a great debt.”
“You did catch the grippe, which I’m certain was humbling enough,” I told him. “Consider it a debt paid.”
I knew Moreau would not agree, but he nodded again, limping slightly as he resumed his chair near the fire. Still healing from Madame Jourdain’s knife, I assumed.
I drew the letter from my coat pocket and held it out. “Madame, your correspondence. As it was private, I did not read it.”
Madame Paillard stilled a moment before she took the letter from me warily, as though it might turn and bite her.
She unfolded the pages and skimmed the words, her cheeks burning a sudden, dark red. Then she marched to the tiny fire that crackled on the hearth, thrust the letter into the flames, and jabbed the paper with a poker until it had quite burned to ash.
Moreau and I watched her in silence. Madame Paillard stabbed the embers a few more times, then she straightened, gazed at the hearth a moment, and calmly returned the poker to its place.
She turned back to us and let out a sigh. “There. That is done. Would you like coffee, Captain Lacey? Perhaps some more of my cook’s excellent pastries?”
The rest of my visit with Moreau and Madame Paillard was congenial, she laughing and jesting with a lightness of heart.
We avoided discussing the case of poor Gallo, who’d paid the ultimate price for his scheming and intimidation, and Signora Ruggeri, who’d nearly paid it as well.
As the afternoon waned, I took my leave, explaining that we would depart for England in a few days.
Madame Paillard once more showered me with kisses and thanks, encouraging me and also Donata to write and to visit whenever we had the mind to.
Moreau walked out with me, he too now leaning on a walking stick. Bartholomew had cleaned and polished mine after its time in the river, and its wood and brass gleamed like new.
“Lacey.” Moreau faced me on the doorstep. “You have done me many a good turn since you arrived in Lyon, and this after I had done you only a terrible one. If we had known each other before the war, I might have called you friend.”
“Then it would have been awkward when we met in the woods in Spain,” I said in a light voice. “You’d might have felt obliged to kill me to prove your loyalty to France.”
He answered my feeble humor with a faint smile. “I am glad it did not have to come to that. But now, I would like to call you friend. I will not force you to think of me as such in return.”
“Nonsense.” I held out my hand. “As I have said many a time now, encounters in war are different from encounters in peace. I am pleased to consider you a friend, Moreau.”
He hesitated, then clasped my hand, his grip even more certain than before. “Be well, mon ami.”
He then towed me a step forward and kissed me on both cheeks without shame. Though I could not bring myself to return the gesture, I wrung his hand harder, appreciating his sentiment.
“Au revoir, Colonel,” I said to him when we released each other. “I will write, as Madame Paillard requested.”
“Au revoir, Captain. Bon voyage.”
We studied each other for a moment longer, two gentlemen regarding each other stoically in the street.
I gave him a nod, which he returned, then I turned and strode away, my walking stick ringing on pavement that returned the heat of the summer sun.
Brewster fell into step with me when I reached the end of the lane. “I’ll miss their cook, I will.”
“We might return one day, Brewster.”
“Huh. Not if that trip is like this one. You do have a way of finding trouble, guv.”
“I find as much at home, so where I am scarcely matters, does it?”
Brewster only grunted in return. “You finished cozying up to your old enemy?”
“Enemies no longer, I am pleased to say.”
Brewster shook his head as we made our way to the plaza. “I’ve given up trying to understand you. I think I never will.”
“Never mind, Brewster. Let us have a cup of wine and ease our cares, shall we?”
“As long as it’s ale instead, I’ll not argue.”
We turned for Beaumont’s tavern, I determined to enjoy my last repasts there.
The next morning, when I walked down the hill to Beaumont’s for my coffee and breakfast, I found Fernand Devere waiting for me.
He rose from my usual table when I entered, then stood silently until I took a seat. Beaumont brought me coffee and plunked down a plate of meat and bread, plus another coffee for Fernand.
“Please, eat.” Fernand waved at my food. “There is no reason to speak of business when one can enjoy a meal.”
While I approved of this philosophy, it was a bit unnerving to consume my breakfast while Fernand sipped coffee and watched me.
Even so, I decided to take my time over the excellent sausages and fresh bread, savoring the simple but delicious fare. I wondered if I could prevail upon Donata’s already excellent cook to find food like this in London.
Once I’d finished and drained a second cup of coffee, Fernand stood. “Will you walk with me, Captain?”
“Of course.” I dabbed my mouth on my handkerchief, as Beaumont did not supply linens, and drew out coin to leave for my meal.
Fernand stopped me, explaining he’d already paid for it. I gave him my thanks and the inhabitants of the shop a nod of farewell, and followed Fernand out.
Not surprisingly, he led me to the wide space of the plaza.
A market thrived there that morning, vendors peddling bright summer strawberries and other fruits, deep green vegetables, pastries glistening with sugar, piles of meat, and strings of sausages, both fresh and dried.
They shouted their bargains, and wives and servants argued with them over prices.
Fernand led me past all this to a relatively calm space in the middle of the square. His belligerence had lessened significantly, and he appeared more sad than angry.
“Captain, I owe you an apology,” he began, keeping to English. “I have treated you abominably. We thought—”
“No need to explain,” I said quickly. “It is understandable. I arrived to poke up something that should have been left in the past. I am certain that you feared the worst.”
“We did.” Fernand drew a breath. “I did not trust you, Lacey. Emile did, but the lad can be naive.”
“Do not be too hard on him,” I said with sudden fondness for my new son-in-law. “There is nothing wrong with seeing the good in people. I am happy my daughter found such a gentle and honest man to be her husband.”
Fernand sent me a wry glance. “Perhaps Emile is a little too honest. By the bye, it was not he who convinced me I should come and speak to you today, but your daughter. Gabriella explained to me what an honorable man you were and how she’d come to trust you with her life—which you indeed saved on one occasion. It seems you are prone to such things.”
I shrugged, discomfited. “Perhaps I am determined for others to have a fair chance.”
“If you like. She also assured me that for any secrets the family has, you are not the one who will betray them.”
“That depends.” I kept my voice mild. “If any harm comes to Gabriella, or even appears to come to Gabriella, you can be certain that I will act against the person who threatens her. Not with knowledge of past misdeeds, but with a more savage solution. I’m certain you understand that.
You feel the same about your own family. ”
“I do,” Fernand acknowledged. “Believe me, Lacey, Gabriella has nothing to fear from us. We will protect her as fiercely as you would yourself. Auberge is the same.”
“He is.” I could not deny that Auberge had kept Gabriella safe all the years she’d spent apart from me.
“Will you at least satisfy my curiosity about Potier? I have heard the true tale of his death from the comtesse, but she claims she knows nothing of what happened after you took him away. Perhaps it was wiser of her to close her eyes at that point.”