The Debutante's Code, page 30
The man behind her let go of her neck and picked up a candle. He lit it from the bright lamp and carried it through a curtained doorway. As he passed, she saw the shapes on the walls. Paintings, but with the canvases shredded and dangling. At her feet, shards of porcelain and glass and chips of stone. Plinths knocked over, a chair that was now nothing more than kindling.
What was this place? And how would Uncle Bertie and Daniel Swann ever find her?
Did God Himself even know where she was?
Daniel’s mother opened the front door and stepped back. She stiffened when he followed the earl and countess into the hall. Her split lip had begun to heal, and the bruise along her jaw had turned a pale yellow.
Bertie joined them. “I sent Cadogan to fetch Haverly. We’re going to need him.”
“What about Mr. Beck? Where is he?” Daniel asked.
“He’s keeping watch outside.”
“Now see here.” Daniel fisted his hands, gripping his truncheon. “This is a robbery, and what’s more, it’s a kidnapping. We need to alert the entire police force, every night watchman, every beadle, and every observant street urchin if necessary. None of you seem fazed that Lady Juliette was taken at gunpoint. You’re all under arrest for your part in this, and I want to know what is going on here. Who are you people?”
The man dressed as a servant removed his white gloves. “I am the Earl of Thorndike, and this is my countess.” He indicated the woman in the bright-yellow food-spattered dress. “This is our home, and it is our daughter who has been taken.”
Daniel realized his mouth had fallen open. He strove to gain command of the situation once more. “Sir, you and your wife need to step aside. Sir Bertrand Thorndike, you are under arrest.”
The countess stepped forward. “Gentlemen, let’s go upstairs and get to work. Mrs. Dunstan, please watch for His Grace and bring him to us the minute he arrives. Young sir, I promise all will be revealed momentarily.” She shrugged at her husband and brother-in-law and mounted the stairs.
Who were these people? Why had they appeared in costume? Had Lady Juliette recognized them? Had they been working together from the beginning? Daniel hurried after them, determined not to let Sir Bertrand out of his sight.
He looked back over his shoulder at his mother, standing by the front window so dutifully, and tamped down his frustration. He would get to the bottom of this and find out what role she played in all of it soon. And if speaking with her violated his patron’s wishes, so be it. He would have his explanations, especially if it helped rescue a kidnapped noblewoman, even if that noblewoman was a thief and a liar.
At the end of a long, dark hallway, Sir Bertrand pulled on a wall sconce and opened a hidden door. No one else seemed surprised, so Daniel hid his own astonishment. This was a house full of secrets. In single file they mounted a narrow staircase. When they reached the top, Daniel stood on the threshold, unable to conceal his bewilderment.
A vast room that must encompass the entire attic of the mansion opened before him. He could barely take in the contents, but immediately his gaze fell on the Lotto painting standing proudly on an easel.
“I knew it. You’re all under arrest.” He closed the door and leaned against it, keeping them all in view.
“Stand down, young man. No one is under arrest.” The earl stripped off his footman’s coat and loosened his cravat. “We’re on the same side. We work for His Majesty’s government.”
“Why are we telling him this? Why did we bring him here?” Sir Bertrand raised his hands. “If we’re going to tell all and sundry, we might as well post it in the dailies and be done with it.”
“Marcus has had his eye on Mr. Swann for some time, and Mr. Swann is already heavily involved in this case. We had no choice but to bring him in, or else we would have had to disappear him onto a ship bound for Botany Bay.” The countess removed her glittering necklace. “Tristan, I’m going to change. This gown is foul. There I was creating the distraction you would need to spirit away the silverware, and it all went for naught. I’m disappointed with you, Bertie.”
She went round a corner, and Daniel heard rustling and bumping, as if cupboards were being opened as he tried to digest that the countess had intended to make a diversion at the party. They were all in on the conspiracy together.
“What attire do you think we’ll need, and start mapping out where our quarry may have taken Juliette.” Her voice sounded muffled. She was remarkably calm for a woman whose daughter had been kidnapped.
Daniel approached the Lotto. Next to it on the table stood the maquette, which he’d never seen but which had been described to him in great detail by its deprived owner, and the jade dragon, which he had seen in Lady Juliette’s own hands. And on a square of velvet lay a collection of green and diamond jewelry. The missing parure.
“I assume you didn’t need to steal the tapestries and the folio? What about the papyrus and the eagle? Where are those? They, along with the candelabra, fill out the list of items stolen from Turner and Rathbone.”
The earl and his brother went still. “How did you get your hands on the list?” the earl asked. “Bertie stole the only known copy the same night he stole the Lotto.”
“The question is, how do you know about the inventory list? Did you have to kill Mr. Selby to get your hands on it?”
He hated that his suspicions had come to fruition. Lady Juliette and her family were all thieves and killers. He could only imagine what Sir Michael would say when he brought them into Bow Street in irons. Though how he would accomplish that by himself eluded him for the time being.
“You weren’t listening.” Sir Bertrand picked up a glass paperweight and tossed it into the air, catching it lightly. “We’re agents for His Majesty, not thieves and killers. I did break into Turner and Rathbone and steal their paperwork, but I deny killing Mr. Selby. We’ve had to acquire the items in that particular shipment, but only temporarily. I assure you that once this is over, all these valuables will be returned to their owners as mysteriously as they were taken. But I am curious how you got the contents of the list. I took everything in that office that could pertain to it. Did I miss something?”
“No. You were quite thorough. Please set that paperweight down. I’d not like you to brain me with it.” This room was full of potential weapons, and he would have to be on his guard. “My copy was provided to me by the man who purchased the items on the Continent, an assistant at the art dealer’s shop. It took him a few days to gather his wits enough to write it out, and it contained dozens of items, but each of the stolen pieces was somewhere on his list.”
“You are talking about a list of artwork, but the list we’re after is much more important,” the earl said. “A French agent named Fournier spent a lifetime compiling a list of spies from various countries. He was growing old, and he wanted to sell the list to finance his retirement. He had a buyer who would be in England for a period of time, and he partnered with a courier to secret the list into the country. He grew to distrust his courier, however, and he encoded the list, concealing it onto pieces of artwork being shipped aboard the Adventuress. We sent an agent, code-named Leonidas, to intercept either Fournier or the list, but while he got close, he was unsuccessful. The courier managed to kill both Fournier and Leonidas. What he couldn’t do, however, is obtain the coded names from the artwork before it shipped out. Both the courier and ourselves have been in a race to find the pieces.”
Sir Bertrand yanked out a letter opener pinning a paper to the wall. “We can only assume that when the courier arrived at the gallery and found the items had already been dispersed to their owners and the inventory lists with those owners’ names stolen, he fell into a rage and killed the dealer.”
The earl removed his shoes, tossing them aside. “I befriended Mr. Selby when we received a communication from Leonidas that it was his dealership through which the pieces would pass. Fortunately, Selby’s skill and enthusiasm for his job coupled with his punctuality in sending out the pieces saved our operation, but it cost him his life. Are you almost finished back there, my love? I’d like to get out of this ridiculous livery.”
The countess emerged dressed in black. Her hair was plaited into a thick rope down her back, and she buckled a belt that held a knife.
Daniel began to believe they might be telling him the truth.
“And this man who killed Selby knows about this list of spies, has Lady Juliette and some of the artwork, therefore some of the pieces to the puzzle?” He tried to put it together with what he had worked out about the thefts.
“Yes. We watched his henchmen leave with two of the pieces tonight. There was code embedded on those candelabra, thus our interest in obtaining them. They have four or five bits of the code, but we cannot yet tell if they’ve deciphered any of them. That must be why they took Juliette. They think she can give them the codes we have here and possibly help them work out the solutions.” Sir Bertrand set the letter opener on the desk.
“Who is he?” Daniel asked. “And how do we find him?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it? We’ve no idea at this point.”
Chapter 16
JULIETTE WAS GIVEN A LAMP, paper, and quill and moved into a small office of some sort. One of the kidnappers put a bottle of ink on the table, and another put the scrap of ancient script and the alabaster eagle in front of her.
The mysterious man, who remained in the shadows of the front room, said, “You’ve got two hours, maybe three, until my contact arrives. He … and I … will expect answers by then.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’ve been trying to break this code for more than a fortnight, and have only managed—” She broke off, remembering she wasn’t going to speak.
“Managed what?”
“To get nowhere,” she mumbled.
“Somehow I don’t believe that. What names have you found?”
She said nothing, holding her fingers out to the candle flame to try to warm them enough to hold the quill. Mere hours to get the answers to questions she’d been asking herself for weeks?
“The clock is ticking. I suggest you get to work.”
Examining the papyrus fragment was difficult in such low light, but she eventually found the code, written in the same brownish black ink as the hieroglyphs. It was minute, and she wished she had a quizzing glass and bright sunlight. The glare off the sheets of glass had her double-checking that she had it right. What good would it do her to copy the code if she couldn’t see it clearly?
The same style of groupings of five characters, letters, numbers, and symbols intermingled.
The eagle revealed another string of characters, etched along the underside of one wing, barely visible and found only because she ran her fingertips lightly over every surface.
She copied the code, in the groups of five, and then as two lines with no breaks.
“Don’t forget the candelabras.” His voice slithered through the doorway, and one of his henchmen brought them to her.
They were as heavy as she’d feared, and she doubted she would have been able to remove even one of them from the Barringtons’ dining room by herself. Perhaps it was providential that she hadn’t been forced to try.
Examining them required her to stand, but the moment she moved, the heavy hand slammed down on her shoulder and pinned her in the chair. Her teeth rattled, and her backside stung.
“Don’t move.”
“I merely wanted to inspect them.” She indicated the delicate silver arms ending in rounded cups that extended above her head when she sat. “I can’t see in this low light. Give me more lamps, and let me stand up to look these over, or I cannot do what you want.” She tried to sound reasonable, but fear thinned her voice.
“Let her look, but keep an eye on her.” The leader moved away from the doorway and farther into the front room. What was he doing out there? Was his vigilance in not letting her see his face a good sign? If she couldn’t identify him, perhaps he would release her when he got what he wanted.
If she could deliver it to him. If she failed, she had a feeling he wouldn’t take that kindly. She concentrated on the task. Yet if she gave him the names, she would be betraying those agents.
God, tell me what to do. Help me. At least help me find what I’m looking for here.
Within seconds, her fingertips brushed the code, etched into the undersides of the fluted edges of the cups.
Had God just answered her prayers, or was it a coincidence?
Perhaps He hadn’t abandoned her after all.
Footsteps thudded on the stairs and Daniel stiffened, gripping his truncheon and moving to stand behind the door.
Tense as bowstrings, they waited, and when the door opened, the earl lowered his pistol.
The Duke of Haverly walked in, his cloak—a disreputable thing no aristocrat would willingly wear—swinging about him. He carried a stone in one palm. “Special delivery.”
A blonde woman followed him into the room, and the countess held out her hands. “Charlotte, I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Marcus said Juliette was in trouble. Of course I had to come. He also mentioned a bit of code-breaking to be done.”
“And that’s all you’ll be doing, my dear. You’ll stay here and work on the code.” The duke’s expression forbade argument.
This must be his duchess. Who else would he address so? And just how many people were in this ring of spies?
Where had he seen that cloak before? He walked back through his memories and went still. He’d seen that cloak in The Hog’s Head. The dangerous man seated in the corner. Could it have been? Surely not …
The duchess rolled her eyes and looked to the countess. “I’ve only just informed him that we will be adding a much-anticipated ‘spare’ to our ‘heir,’ and he’s broken out in overprotective chivalry.”
“Congratulations, and in that case, I agree. You will remain here.” The countess gave her a quick hug.
The duke noticed Daniel, and his brows rose. “It appears we have a visitor.” He slanted a glance at Sir Bertrand and Earl Thorndike, who had just rounded the dressing screen, attired in dark clothing and tucking a pistol into his waistband.
“And a welcome one. I knew you’d had your eye on him, especially given his relationship to our housekeeper. It seemed a prudent time to bring him into the fold.” The earl stamped his feet into boots and shrugged into a coat.
Daniel sagged against a table. They knew? About his mother? What else did they know?
Was it possible that one of them was his mysterious patron? Was that how his mother, a country housemaid, had ended up employed here? He looked from one face to another, but no one gave anything away.
“We’ll go into all that later.” The duke held up the rock. “This crashed through your front window moments ago, along with a note. And a token.”
Instinctively, Daniel reached for it first and then stayed his hand as the earl took the paper and read aloud.
“Bring the artifacts and shed the Bow Street men. Put the crate on a wagon and leave both behind the German embassy in Knightsbridge within two hours, or the lady gets a quick trip to the bottom of the river. If we get the artwork and the rest of the codes, and she unlocks the names, we’ll turn her loose. If not, goodbye lady.” He held up Juliette’s garnet ring.
The countess showed the first bit of emotion, blinking quickly as she took the ring from her husband’s hand and slipped it on her finger.
“Well, that’s unacceptable.” Haverly reached up and untied the queue of hair at the nape of his neck and shook out the brown locks, totally transforming his appearance.
“Is Juliette being held in the German embassy?” the duchess asked.
“Doubtful.” The duke studied the note. “I propose we go down and interrogate the messenger.”
“You have him?” Daniel asked.
“It was his misfortune to arrive nearly at the same time as I, and that we had a Bow Street constable watching the house. Mr. Beck is holding our rock-throwing vandal in the study as we speak.”
In the study, Ed stood near a man trussed to a chair. The room had been returned to order after the break-in, but the door to the hidden safe hung open, broken beyond repair, awaiting replacement.
The earl eyed it as he took up a position across from the messenger.
“Constable Beck, nice to see you again.” The duke nodded.
How well did Ed know the duke? Did he know they were all spies? Surely not, else he would have told Daniel or turned the investigation away from the agents.
Daniel focused on the prisoner. “He was at Barringtons’. He’s one of the men who took Lady Juliette.” Daniel reached out with his truncheon and lifted the man’s chin with the brass knobbed end. “He held the pistol on Ed.”
“So he did.” Ed rubbed his temple.
“Ladies, I would prefer if you went back upstairs.” Sir Bertrand nodded toward the door. “This man is about to disgrace himself, and I’m sure it would be an added blow to his pride to do so in front of you.”
Daniel held the door for them, nodding a bow as they swept past into the foyer.
“Don’t make a mess, darling,” the countess called back over her shoulder. “But get what you need. Juliette awaits us.”
As it turned out, they needn’t have sent the women away. The miscreant took one look at the five men ranged against him and burst like an overstuffed sausage. Within ten minutes, Daniel sent Ed to Bow Street with the prisoner, and the rest made preparations to leave for Clerkenwell.
To the gallery of Turner and Rathbone. Daniel felt as if he had come full circle.
They left the Duchess of Haverly busy with pen and ink and the code words Lady Juliette had worked on for the past fortnight. The earl had lingered a long moment, staring at the written code, his eyes narrowed, before his wife’s touch on his arm turned him away.
Daniel now hunched over on the wagon seat. He was the decoy, tasked with getting close without drawing suspicion. Dressed as a laborer, with tools and boards rattling in the wagon bed, he was supposed to drive up and make a considerable racket, allowing the others to sneak into the Turner and Rathbone shop the back way. Sir Bertrand had firsthand knowledge of the layout of the building, and he would lead the charge.
