Chapter 26
In which plans are amended
Be wary when you rely on someone’s guile to serve you: it can be turned against you.
— from Lady Avely’s Guide to Guile and Peril
Mrs Ulrich led the way down the hall. Judith gave a longing glance at the breakfast room and then followed.
Of course, apprehending a traitor to the Crown was more important than coffee and toast. She only wished she could apprehend the traitor after coffee and toast. She shook her head sharply: Miss Onslow had fooled her utterly with her charming demeanour. And poor Robert, what would he say?
Belatedly, it occurred to her to wonder if Miss Onslow had misled her about the assassination plot, if she was such a conniving wretch.
But no, Judith would have heard the lie in her voice.
For some reason, the girl had decided to disclose it, probably to gain Judith’s trust. And it aligned with her other betrayal of Drumpellier, and most likely suited her own purposes.
“We must assume,” said Mrs Ulrich, as she stalked down the corridor, “that Miss Onslow has been meeting French agents for some time.”
Judith grimaced. “Yes, she must have sought to take advantage of your Dread Spell to hide her activities.”
Mrs Ulrich came to a halt and turned to face her, her expression severe. “I apologise, ma’am. In fact, Miss Onslow asked me to cast the Dread Spell.”
“She did?” Judith stared, offended. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
The housekeeper hesitated. “She claimed to have a great fear that smugglers might use the cellars, and she wanted me to lay the spell to frighten them away.”
“Oh.” Judith contemplated the housekeeper’s grim expression. “She was blackmailing you, wasn’t she? She knew that you were helping the smugglers, and that was the price of her silence.”
Mrs Ulrich nodded shortly, then spun on her heel again and marched down the corridor. “I apologise, ma’am. I should have enquired more closely as to why. I assumed she wished to meet a lover in private; it never crossed my mind she was a French spy.”
“Never mind,” said Judith, trailing after her again. “You weren’t to know that she was a traitor. And now you’ve locked her up. Er, how did you lock her up?”
“I employed Trebellow’s assistance.”
“How?” asked Judith, with some trepidation.
“I bade him wait in the corridor. Then when Miss Onslow came by, he gently expelled his Impact to push her into the open door of a storeroom. I was waiting behind the door, slammed it shut, and locked it. There is no window, so she has no way to escape.”
“Oh,” said Judith faintly. Her retainers were proving to be a redoubtable team. “Why not lock her in her room?”
“I was aware that she had a vampiri in there. I did not want her to have a hostage.”
“Oh, Wooten, of course.” Judith rubbed her forehead. “Very clever, Mrs Ulrich. I am indebted to you.”
They reached the door, a sturdy wooden thing with a brass knob, set in the yellowing wallpaper of the hall. Mrs Ulrich pulled up her chatelaine, holding up a large iron key. “I don’t recommend you open it, ma’am.”
There was the sound of something banging within the room, then Miss Onslow’s voice on the other side of the door. “Mrs Ulrich? Is that you? Let me out at once, you madwoman!”
“I have brought Lady Avely,” said Mrs Ulrich, in triumphant and sepulchral tones.
Miss Onslow gasped and spoke loudly through the door. “Marchioness! Please make your dreadful housekeeper release me! This is outrageous!”
Judith cleared her throat. “I believe that Mrs Ulrich has good reason for imprisoning you, Miss Onslow. She claims to have heard you consorting with French spies in the cellars.”
There was a pause, then Miss Onslow rallied. “Yes, she has decided that I am some sort of villain, when you know very well that I have been helping you! I told you about the duke! You must trust me!”
Judith grimaced at this clever evasion. Miss Onslow made a rather good spy, it seemed. “I’m afraid that I saw you hiding the gun in the terrace gardens last night, Miss Onslow.”
There was a silence. Then came the sound of a body sliding against the door, and Miss Onslow’s voice, subdued and lower down, as she leaned against the wood. “Oh.” She sounded suddenly very weary.
“You killed Sgt Finlay, didn’t you?” There was a silence. “Did he discover your meetings?”
Miss Onslow’s reply was barely audible. “Yes.”
“How did he find out?”
“He followed me into the cellars.” Her tone grew stronger, indignant. “Then he had the gall to ask for my favours—my body—in return for his silence. You cannot blame me for killing him, Lady Avely. I simply could not submit to him.”
Judith frowned at the door, her heart plummeting with sympathy. Then she hardened her voice. “So you lured him down there again, I suppose, and hit him over the head with a spade. Did you drag him through the tunnels with the wheelbarrow?”
“How did you know that?” Miss Onslow sounded surprised.
“I made it my business to know,” snapped Judith.
She gnawed on her lip, suspecting that it had been Miss Onslow, after all, who had told Sgt Finlay the cock and bull story about the smugglers to feed to Cador.
She would have wanted the fisherman far from his cottage that night so she could drag the body into the tunnel.
So in fact her crime was coldly premeditated and not just a matter of self-defence.
“I also know about the tunnel you used to dispose of him.”
“Goodness me.” Miss Onslow was subdued. “You do know rather a lot. I suppose that is the advantage of being a Truth Discernor.”
“What I do not know is why. I thought you were happy using your Gift to serve your country. Why sink to treason and murder?”
“My country betrayed me! Drumpellier sent my brother to his capture!”
Ah, perhaps the brother lost in battle was not dead after all, as Judith had assumed. She leaned her head against the door. “Is he being held as a prisoner of war?”
“Yes, and Drumpellier doesn’t care a jot. I had to help him instead.”
“You bargained your knowledge for his safety?” Again, Judith repressed her unwilling sympathy, mixed as it was with her outrage. “Is he safe now? At what cost to other British soldiers? Who knows what damage you have done!”
“I didn’t like it,” said Miss Onslow, her voice low. “But I had to do it. I could not allow my brother to be executed. You should know how I feel, Lady Avely, when your beloved is sailing into the same trap.”
Judith bit her lip. She could well understand the desire to rail against the price of war. But the alternative was worse: England under the heel of Bonaparte. “It is very hard,” she said softly. “Yet it was your brother’s choice to fight.”
“And it was my choice to save him,” Miss Onslow gritted out. “And save myself from that lecher.”
Judith rested her forehead against the door jamb, thinking. After a moment, she asked, “Do you have a minder over here? Some other traitor, to whom you report?”
Miss Onslow was silent. Judith gritted her teeth crossly; it was too much to hope the wretch would willingly divulge such information.
But she thought she knew who Miss Onslow’s minder was: Baron Quarles.
Even aside from that suspicion, she had enough proof to indict the girl, and here was her ticket for Dacian’s safety.
She could bargain with Drumpellier and offer him a traitor in return for his weapon.
Then another thought occurred to her, and abruptly she lifted her head. “Wait. This morning—did you tell your informant about Drumpellier’s plans for the duke?”
Silence came from within. Judith banged on the door with her flat palm, angrily. “Did you?” she demanded, panic rising in her throat like bile. “Tell me!”
The ensuing quiet was confirmation enough. To her right, Mrs Ulrich cleared her throat. “I did hear the name Sargen mentioned, ma’am, in the flurry of French.”
“You told the French about the assassination plot?” Judith shouted at the door, suddenly losing all sense of compassion. “You are the one closing the trap!”
A muffled sob came from within. “I had to do it. I didn’t want to, but they promised me my brother.”
Unmoved, Judith pushed away from the jamb. “You can look forward a long acquaintance with that room, Miss Onslow,” she said furiously. “And you’d better hope that I can save his grace—otherwise I’ll strangle you with my own bare hands.”
“Lock Baron Quarles in his room!” Judith instructed Mrs Ulrich, who hurried away at once. Judith stormed down the corridor in the opposite direction. But by the time she had reached the breakfast room, her pace had slowed to something more thoughtful.
She had realised that Miss Onslow’s traitorous snivelling could actually work to Dacian’s advantage.
Judith simply had to tell Drumpellier that the assassination plot was already revealed to the French, and he would have to abandon it.
And he would return Dacian to her, if she had to hold a shatterstone to his head herself.
She clenched her fists angrily, then reluctantly sat down for a much-needed breakfast of coffee, eggs, and ham.
As she sipped her coffee, she pondered what metaphorical shatterstone she could hold to Drumpellier’s head.
The more she considered it, the more she began to suspect that Drumpellier was operating on his own.
It was quite possible that he had gone rogue, obsessed with his own cleverness, with this idea to assassinate Bonaparte.
Who was his higher command? Could she go to his superiors?
She sighed. She very much feared that his superiors wouldn’t give a damn.
Most likely, they had handed him carte blanche to do as he willed, quietly, on the side, as long as it served the country.
The king couldn’t publicly endorse an assassination, but he would look the other way while it was orchestrated.
She pushed her cup away and wandered through the castle, restless.
Twisting the topaz ring in her pocket, she contemplating using it now: Travel to Pendennis, confront Drumpellier, and attempt to negotiate with him, holding this new card.
Yet if he refused to listen, she’d be trapped there in his power, unable to escape.
She would probably end up locked in a cell and proffered a cup full of Lethe.
No, it might be better to go directly to Dacian and speak to him. He would be more open to reason, she was sure. And they had to be prepared to snatch him away in the moment, if necessary.
Yes, as much as it galled her to wait, she must hold fire until Perry arrived.
Nightfall would also bring Marigold and Yvette’s help, if anything went wrong.
Even Wooten might be useful, if he would just put some clothes on.
She had to wait. In the meanwhile, she could renew the preparations, ready the castle and the staff.
But first, she had to break the news to Robert.
It took a good half hour to find him. She tracked him down finally in a dusty room with windows looking out across the rugged coastline of Cornwall.
He had leaned a sketchbook against the window fame, and he was drawing with frowning concentration.
Judith caught a glimpse of the sketched battlements framing the ocean and hills, with a woman standing against the stone, her gown a graceful line, her head tilted in thought.
Oh dear. Before she could lose her courage, in the manner of one quickly dousing a wound with spirits, Judith told him what she had discovered about Miss Onslow: that she was a spy for France and had killed Sgt Finlay.
Robert stared at her in consternation, his charcoal now lax in his fingers. “That’s preposterous. I don’t believe it. You must be mistaken.”
Judith hunched her shoulders. “I could hear the truth in her voice.”
His expression darkened, and he turned away. Judith felt he blamed her for the news. It was another reason for him to dislike her Gift, now that it condemned his newfound friendship and nascent courtship.
She swallowed. “I am sorry, Robert. It was a terrible shock to me too. I refused to believe it at first, even when I knew she had hidden the gun. I know you must be deeply hurt.” She nodded at his sketch. “You trusted her, and liked her, and I do not blame you. She was very charming.”
Angrily, he tipped the paper off the ledge, hiding it from her. “I was simply flattered by her interest in me. I should have known it was false.”
“That might not be true!” Judith objected. “She might still have admired you, even as she lied to you. She is a young woman of many motivations, some honourable and some deeply flawed.”
“I didn’t trust her, remember,” averred Robert. A gull wheeled outside with a melancholic cry. “She was prowling around at night, and I told you it was odd.”
Judith allowed him the defence. She sighed. “Well, Mrs Ulrich has locked her up, and you must see that this gives us something to take to Drumpellier. Our new knowledge is a real coup, in fact, and we must focus on how we can take advantage of it.”
Robert’s jaw ticked. “You want to swap them over. Give him Miss Onslow in return for the duke.”
When he said it like that, it did sound rather cold. Judith straightened her shoulders. “It might be our only chance, and I won’t let it slip. And she is a traitor, after all.”
Robert was silent for a moment. “So Perry returns tonight?”
“Yes.” She paused. “I’m sorry, I know you find this all rather awkward.”
“Not awkward,” he said coldly. “Damn difficult when I imagine what my mother would say if she could see me cosying up to you lot.”
Judith pressed her lips together, hiding her pain.
Obviously, Robert regretted the companionable intermission in the kitchen with Perry.
And he was reeling from the news about Miss Onslow, so she must try to forgive him his moodiness.
After all, she had put up with sulky behaviour from her other children in the past. It was part and parcel of being so young.
Had she been so moody when she was twenty?
“Indeed, your mother would not like it,” she said carefully. “But can you put aside her feelings for a moment, and examine your own? After all, Perry knows nothing of the trespasses against you. So you are visiting the sins of the father…”
Robert gave her a scathing glance. “It was I who suffered the sins of the father. Not Perry.”
She nodded hastily. “Indeed, you are right. I am so sorry, Robert. Once we have managed this crisis, you can leave us far behind, if you wish.”
He turned his face away, staring out over the coast. “I do wish it.”
Tears rose in Judith’s eyes, but she left the room before he could see them.