Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Percy gave Jacob an enthusiastic greeting, kissing him on the cheeks in Gallic fashion while Jacob submitted stiff-backed to the embrace.
That was not a popular gesture with the people in the Frenchman’s vicinity.
They edged away from such an un-English display.
Dora watched the two men approach with wry amusement, noting the dagger looks they attracted in their wake.
Percy was going to get himself thumped before the fireworks even began.
‘I think I’ll make myself scarce,’ said Alex, getting up from the table. ‘He doesn’t know me and I’d prefer not to remind him of my existence. It might come in useful later.’
‘Good idea. Stay alert,’ said Dora. ‘He’s likely not the only enemy here tonight.’
Alex gave her a salute and slid out the back of the box so he didn’t pass the new arrival.
‘Mademoiselle Dora,’ said Percy, bowing over her hand. ‘We meet again. How do you say? I am the bad penny who keeps turning up?’
He said it before she could. ‘Mr Percy, I admit I am surprised to see you here.’ She wasn’t at all, but he expected her to be shocked so that is what she would offer him. ‘I would have thought an evening celebrating a victory over your country’s armies would not be a pleasant experience.’
‘Really?’ He sat down in the seat Alex had vacated. ‘You think I am worried by a few little skirmishes in dusty Spanish towns when the Emperor of France has marched victorious across Europe? Where are the Prussian victories? Or the Russian?’
The waiter arrived with three glasses of punch. Percy took the one ordered for Alex, seeming not to notice that he hadn’t put in his own request. Perhaps he was under the mistaken impression they had exceptional service here.
Dora raised her glass. ‘To victory.’
‘To victory,’ Jacob and Percy echoed.
Dora let the sweet and spicy taste of the drink settle in her mouth, smiling as Jacob pulled a face. He didn’t have her sweet tooth.
Percy swirled his punch, studying it thoughtfully as the leaves rustled above and shadows flickered across his face. ‘I never could understand why you English spoil perfectly decent wine and spirits with sugar and other flavours.’
‘What a trial for you then to be sent back,’ said Jacob laconically.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that. I must give it a second chance.’ Percy sipped and shrugged. ‘It does grow on you, I suppose.’
Dora wasn’t sure if they were still talking about punch. With Percy, there was always another meaning hidden under the surface. ‘Tell me, monsieur, why do you want to attend a celebration of a military victory at all?’
‘Is not anybody who is anybody here tonight? I thought I would reintroduce myself.’
‘That might be so, but at a fête like this? When we last met you said you abhorred the waste of lives in the wars across the continent and preferred to fight your battle in the arena of culture. You said that struggle was one for the centuries, not just to settle who gets the upper hand for the next few years.’
‘Ah, you listened so well! How unusual in a lady.’ He raised the glass of the punch he didn’t like to her.
‘You also said you wanted to define European art by collecting the best examples for your emperor’s galleries, but here you are as trade envoy dealing in sacks of grain. What has happened to that ambition?’
Percy curved his lips in his secret smile, the one that said he knew far more than his audience. ‘Why think I have given it up? Who know what chances the next few years will bring someone of my talents?’
‘I think I understand. He’s here for the spoils,’ said Jacob. ‘If you are waiting, monsieur, for England to be defeated so you get first pick of our collections, then save your breath to cool your porridge.’
‘Oh? You think you will win, you with your armies facing so many enemies?’ His brown eyes gleamed with cruel amusement. ‘You’ve foolishly opened a new front in America, taking on an enemy that it makes no sense to fight. I believe that is a fatal strategic error.’
‘We didn’t start that war.’
‘It takes two sides to fight. You could have walked away or negotiated an agreement with the colonials.’
Jacob shook his head but contented himself with serving Dora a share of the ham.
‘You make it sound easy,’ said Dora, picking up the argument that Jacob had let drop.
‘Snap your fingers and say “let there be peace”. Perhaps you should get a position as advisor to Napoleon. There would be much less bloodshed if he decided that he really didn’t need to control the entirety of Europe and could content himself reigning at home. ’
Percy waved his hand to her but addressed Jacob. ‘Is it not most alluring for a lady to talk politics?’
Jacob started on his own plate, inspecting the wafer-thin ham as if it held the auguries for future victories like the geese on the Capitoline Hill. ‘I wouldn’t patronise her, if I were you, or you might find your tenure in London cut short as you seek medical treatment for gelding.’
Percy propped his chin on his palm and batted his eyelashes at Jacob. ‘Would you help me, mon cher docteur?’
‘No, I don’t think I would.’
Percy sat back and snorted. ‘Heartless man. You two are destined for each other, I can see that. Congratulations, by the way. I saw it in the newspapers on my arrival – such a joy to find two dear friends are to be wed. Do not forget to send me an invitation to the wedding breakfast.’
Was that an accurate report of when he arrived?
Hard to know with him. As for what he said about the invitation, Dora was not going to weaken Jacob’s standing by explaining she hadn’t exactly agreed to be wed.
Better to face society with a united stance.
‘Are you not worried for your safety, being the sole French representative at this celebration?’
Percy looked around the audience that was gathering for the concert.
‘There are bound to be others from my nation in this crowd. Did you not provide a welcome for many who fled the revolution? Remarquez, I understand England is a dangerous place for any Frenchman, émigré or supporter of Bonaparte. Your murderers do not care to make a distinction.’
He was raising the issue of the comte and comtesse himself. How interesting. Perhaps he really had been sent to find out what had happened and was coming to them as a likely source of information, knowing they kept abreast of events?
‘Oh? Do you have anyone particular in mind?’ asked Dora.
‘You must have seen it – the horrible double murder of two French exiles.’
‘When did this happen?’ asked Jacob, looking puzzled.
‘Last month. The Comte and Comtesse D’Antraigues.’ Percy was watching Jacob’s face closely as he was aware Jacob was not the actor of the pair.
Jacob frowned as if consulting his memory. Not bad, my love, thought Dora. ‘I believe I did read something about that – but Dora and I were in the north country at the time, enjoying a holiday at my cottage in Cumberland. It’s a beautiful area. Have you ever visited?’
‘I can’t say that I have. Is it not a place where it rains all the time? I don’t have the tolerance for wetness that you English have.’
‘It is damp, that is true, but we get the reward of green hills, waterfalls and lakes. It may not be as grand as the Alps but it is more congenial to human existence. You might live among these wonders without fearing an avalanche. It is favoured by many of our men of literature – Wordsworth and Coleridge to name but two.’
Percy was not going to accept the change of subject without putting up a fight. He was here to gather information and wanted to herd them back to his theme. ‘You really didn’t take note of the case? There can’t be many murders of this kind even in London.’
‘That is true. Normally I would be as interested but if it happened in July that coincided with the death of my father,’ said Jacob. ‘My mind was not on gossip.’ He was playing his most pompous self. Dora would have to be careful she didn’t give the game away by smiling.
‘Ah yes. I had read…’ Percy changed tack. ‘I apologise. I should have offered my condolences. You sit here in black and yet I did not enquire or even recall that the viscount had passed. I do so now. My condolences on your loss. Your brother has succeeded to the title, of course?’
‘He has.’
‘And you are content with the change? It must come as a blow to be demoted to the brother and not the son of a viscount.’ Percy was probing to see if he could find any cracks, but it was a half-hearted attempt, thought Dora, not up to his usual subtle line of questioning.
Jacob’s chin shot up, the Sandys’ stubbornness in his profile. ‘I find your line of questioning impertinent, sir. I am not happy that my father has died. What son would be? But as for the rest, it is the natural order of things. The new viscount will doubtless be a credit to the family.’
Mischief peeped out of Percy’s expression. If he were a god, he would be Loki, Dora decided, the Norse trickster. ‘Despite having a mistress who objects to your marriage?’ he asked.
So that was why he led them down this path! Dora jabbed her ham with her fork to express her frustration, imagining it a vulnerable part of Percy’s body.
Jacob gave Percy his best supercilious stare, his tone bored. ‘I thought you were more sophisticated than that, monsieur. You disappoint me. My brother’s amours are not a subject I air in the presence of a lady.’
Percy chuckled. ‘Forgive me. I am being impolite, and I know that is a worse sin in English society than … well … sin.’
He was an amusing sparring partner, to be sure.
There was movement on the stage, giving Dora a chance to shift them off this subject.
She greatly preferred not to discuss the murders with Percy, but it was interesting that he was – or was feigning to be – ignorant.
‘Look, the performers are gathering. Have you seen Madame Catalani perform before, sir?’
‘An exquisite.’ Percy kissed the tips of his fingers. ‘Italians so often are.’