Chapter 12 #2
Leaving the coachman and the carter to finish their drinks, she returned to Carlton House. The doctor had departed but his patient had stayed put. Jacob was drinking a cup of tea and eating a scone provided by kitchen staff. She pressed his shoulder lightly.
‘I take it as a good sign, that you feel up to eating?’
He passed her the untouched half of the scone. ‘To be honest, I’ve eaten so much today, I can’t manage another bite, but it felt churlish to refuse.’
She hadn’t had a chance to eat so polished off the scone gratefully. ‘We have a lot of catching up to do,’ she said between mouthfuls.
‘Indeed. How was Barnes?’
She shook her head. ‘None of that. Someone just tried to kill you. That’s the most urgent matter for discussion. Did you see them?’
He frowned as he attempted to summon up the memory.
‘No, but I felt them. It was no accidental elbow in the side but a firm shove in the back. The next few moments are a blur of hooves and cobbles, and then I was back on the pavement with people crowding around me, patting me down. I thought they were trying to ascertain if I was injured, and it was only later I realised they’d gone through my pockets and lifted my purse. ’
‘The same person as the one who pushed you?’
‘I suppose that would be a good way to pick a pocket if you don’t mind the violence.’
‘But highly risky. You’d swing for sure if you were caught.’
‘How risky would it be? If I were dead, or even dazed as I was, it was unlikely I would be able to identify them.’
‘But an onlooker might – the carriage driver did catch a glimpse of a man in a dark brown jacket and hat. If he’d been quicker to grasp the situation, he could’ve started a hue and cry after the person before they vanished. We were unlucky that he didn’t think to do so.’
They sat in silence for a few moments, the noises of the kitchen filtering back into Dora’s consciousness, the turning of the spit and the clattering of pans in the scullery. The smell of roast chicken flavoured with thyme made her mouth water.
‘If the pickpocket and the attacker are the same person, and if we think such a crime in broad daylight near a place as well guarded as Carlton House is unlikely for an ordinary thief, it does raise the possibility I was targeted,’ said Jacob.
His expression turned sombre. ‘They might try for you too.’
‘You think it is associated with the case?’ Dora couldn’t think of anything she had discovered that would justify such a murderous attack.
Jacob took her hand and brushed his thumb over her knuckles. ‘I have two theories.’
‘Only two?’ She smiled affectionately at him. His busy brain was always working on problems, coming up with ideas and angles on the cases they tackled together.
‘When it happened, I was walking home from meeting a contact at the Foreign Office, a middle-ranking official called Thornbury – he’s a friend of Knighton, a school fellow of mine. He told me D’Antraigues was a government pensioner in receipt of a thousand a year.’
‘That explains a lot, like how they could afford two lavish houses. What did he do for his money?’
‘From Thornbury’s description of the situation, the comte had few contacts left in France, certainly no one close to the emperor, but he kept abreast with events through the chatter of the émigré community and by following events closely.
You could say he made himself an expert and had sound instincts as to what developments meant for the war.
Many of us only hold a piece of the puzzle; he was skilled at putting it all together. ’
‘Doesn’t the government have their own people to do that?’
‘He also wrote fluent anti-Bonapartist pieces for them.’
‘That I can see as a unique skill. A Frenchman addressing the French is much more effective than anything an Englishman can write. I gather that they found him useful and were prepared to pay for it?’
‘Yes. Before coming to London he lived in Dresden and worked for the Russian delegation there; he knows the Swedes too. He has good connections with our major eastern allies.’
‘The Russians, the Swedes, and many of the German states fighting against Napoleon with us?’
‘Exactly.’ Jacob sighed. ‘I found all the changing alliances were enough to make my head ache before the accident, but now it is ten times worse.’
‘My poor love,’ said Dora with a wry smile.
‘That Thornbury chap said he liked all this international intrigue! Thrived on it! He went on to say that they were expecting a report from D’Antraigues but instead received news of his death.’
Now that was interesting! ‘The implication being that, if the report was written, it has gone missing?’
‘That’s what he thought.’
‘I wonder.’ Dora tapped her lip, reviewing what she had learned from Susannah Black. ‘That does fit with something odd about the crime.’
‘Go on.’
‘When we questioned the maid who witnessed the murder, she told us how Lorenzo didn’t take the chance to kill the comtesse on first arrival but went upstairs to the comte’s room. If he was in a murderous rage, why not lash out? I wonder if he went in looking for something and was interrupted.’
‘By the comte?’
‘That would make sense. They clearly argued, or something happened, because a shot was fired. They heard that in the hall. Next the comte staggered to the top of the stairs and Lorenzo came up behind and stabbed him to death to finish the job.’
Jacob shuddered. ‘That shove felt very like a stab in the back. I’m grateful my assailant didn’t have a knife.’
He’d had a very narrow escape – it hardly bore thinking about.
‘Unfortunately for the D’Antraigues, Lorenzo did.
But it was only after killing the comte that he came down and stabbed the comtesse.
He didn’t try to kill the witnesses but went back upstairs and killed himself with a second loaded pistol. ’
‘He didn’t say anything, didn’t shout anything, nothing to explain his motives?’
‘No. And neither of his victims had a chance to speak. Do you think the government searched the house for the comte’s report?’
‘I’m sure of it. He was their man – at least, they thought he was. They would’ve sent discreet people to the house to clear out anything embarrassing for government officials. His last report would’ve been noted in the file Thornbury consulted.’
‘Then, if it is missing, it doesn’t sound as if Lorenzo had a chance to destroy it.’
‘That goes to my theory. What if someone staged the accident to search me for it, or at least information as to where it might be?’
‘How would you have got hold of it?’
‘If they are following us, they would know we saw Henry Austen and that I had talked to Thornbury. They might have been after my notes or any papers I was carrying.’
‘Then they don’t know we write things in our case book in the office and don’t generally travel with information like that on our person.’ Dora grimaced. ‘I hope they weren’t watching Miss Austen going about with me today because she did nothing but write things down.’
‘We should warn everyone at the agency that we might be targeted for a break-in, as well as the Austens.’ He rubbed his jaw. ‘And Thornbury.’
Dora saw a chance to get rid of her shadow. ‘We should suggest Miss Austen stays out of harm’s way.’
‘Indeed. Though I think neither of us should go about alone while the threat lasts. We both need someone to watch our backs.’
Hopefully they could investigate together, rather than in separate teams, if he felt well enough to get out of bed tomorrow.
She would then be able to keep an eye on him.
‘So, to return to your thinking, your first theory is that it is this missing report of the comte’s that has got someone interested in us? ’
‘Interest is a mild way of putting “want to kill”.’ He gave her a sardonic look.
‘And the second theory?’
‘I’m not sure I want to say anything.’
‘Jacob!’
‘I know, I know.’ He held up his hands in surrender. ‘Look, something else happened today.’
What else could possibly have happened? ‘Go on.’
‘That unpleasant scene with Ruby in Gunter’s made it into the society column. My intent to marry you is public knowledge and it has not been met with universal approval.’
She snorted at that understatement, then realisation dawned. ‘Your brother must be furious.’
‘Oh, he is, believe me, but not as angry as I am with him for his presumption that he can rule my life.’
Where was Jacob going with this? ‘Jacob, he might be angry, but he would never push you in front of a carriage!’
He laughed then held a hand to his ribs. ‘No, even I don’t think that of Arthur.’
‘Then what would be the connection?’
‘One of my peers on the way to their club might have decided to take me down a peg or two.’
‘So angry that they pushed you into the gutter – with me?’
He winced. ‘Well, yes. The assailant might not have cared if I got badly hurt or not. It was the impulse of a bully. Having my pockets picked was the action of an opportune thief.’
‘Hmm. I’m not sure which theory I prefer: dangerous secrets or prejudiced bully?’
‘Whichever it is, neither of us is safe until this is resolved. But you know what this means?’ His eyes twinkled with some of his usual humour.
‘No?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘We must solve the case and get married.’ He grinned with boyish charm. ‘Even an almost-fatal carriage accident has a silver lining.’