Lady Avely's Guide to Guile and Peril, page 20
part #3 of Matronly Misadventures Series
After some time, Mrs Ulrich herself glided into the room, careful to stay by the door, out of the way of any materialising young relatives.
“I have done as you asked, ma’am,” the housekeeper said. Her customarily morose voice now held a note of excitement. “Is there anything else you require?”
Judith resolutely put aside any thoughts of embroidery. “There is something you could do. I saw Miss Onslow creeping along the garden terraces an hour ago, and she hid something in one of the walls. Do you know of any secret cavities in the cliff-face in the gardens?”
Mrs Ulrich nodded slowly. “Yes, ma’am. On the steep south-eastern terraces? Shall I inspect the contents?”
“If you would be so kind.”
The housekeeper inclined her head and vanished again. Judith sighed and sat back, letting her mind stew over the puzzle of Sgt Finlay’s death as a distraction from her vigil. She felt as if she should be able to put the pieces together by now, if she were not so taken up by Dacian’s plight.
On the one hand, she had discovered how Sgt Finlay had returned to the mainland through the underground tunnel, dragged part of the way by Cador. Who had left the soldier there in the passageway? Considering how battered his body had been, he might have been dragged there shortly after his death. Who had the strength to do that, except Trebellow? Perhaps Kynver and Kade together could manage it, though they were individually slight—but they would have to move single file through that narrow tunnel. The baron was not bulky, but he was tall and might manage it.
Then she had another thought: the wheelbarrow she had seen in the upper cellar that first night. Could someone have hauled Sgt Finlay’s body into it, and then pushed it along the tunnel? This would work up until the drop-off into the lower passageway. If the killer had tipped the body down the hatch, that would explain the dirtied clothes.
Such a feat could be managed by even a woman, straining. Miss Onslow, then, or Miss Isla. Or the slender baron. Judith was considering these unlikely suspects when her son abruptly appeared in the drawing room.
He materialised by the far window, just as she had asked, and stumbled slightly. As he righted himself, she examined him with a rush of affection and relief. His face was browner than at her last sight of him, and a faint bristle adorned his cheeks, giving him an unkempt look. His sailing clothes consisted of white pantaloons, a linen shirt, and a loosely knotted blue cloth posing as a cravat. He looked round, blinking, then his eyes lit upon her.
“Mother! What’s all this now?”
She crossed over and clasped him close, tears starting in her own eyes. “Perry, my dear boy. How are you?” She held him at arm’s length. “How is your arm? Is it healed?”
He patiently allowed her embrace. “Oh, God, yes. My ankle is more of a bother lately—I twisted it on those dashed cliffs at Sark, though I’ve had some Healing to sort it out. We’ve had all kinds of adventures, I tell you!”
Judith wanted to hear all about it, but first there was a more important question. “Where’s Marigold? Is she all right?”
Perry plucked a bat out of his pocket. “Here she is. Right as rain. Bossy little thing, isn’t she? Almost as bad as Miss Zooth.”
Judith put her hand out for the precious burden and then stroked Marigold’s furry bat head. “Thank you so much, dear Marigold. Such a Herculean task.” She looked up at Perry. “How is Elinor? Did you find the roost?”
“Yes, all found. Elinor is safe, though she is not suited to the sea, I’m afraid. Always moaning and groaning about the waves.” Then he added, “Beresford almost died, but he has recovered now. Luckily, Elinor is such a queasy-guts, otherwise Miss Zooth would have her hands full chaperoning them.”
Judith pursed her lips. “It sounds as if you have lots to tell me.”
Perry spotted the plate of food and stalked over to help himself to a chudleigh. “Mmm, I’ve missed these. But tell me your news first.” Munching, he threw himself into the chair that Judith had occupied. “Your bat told me a garbled account of some duke being in prison, but I want to hear it from you.”
Marigold transformed in Judith’s hand, irate and naked. “It was not garbled!” she said indignantly. “I explained the matter quite succinctly.”
Perry averted his eyes and ladled a spoonful of cream onto his food. “Yes, but you said that Mother wants to conduct a prison break.”
Judith winced. “That is, in fact, what I intend to do.” She avoided his gaze, busying herself with tucking the lavender kerchief around Marigold.
Perry stared. “But who is this precious duke?” he demanded, around a mouthful. “I mean, I’ve heard of Sargen, but I thought he was abroad. Isn’t he the one who duels all the time? The confirmed rake? Wouldn’t think you’d approve of him, Mother.”
Judith sat down opposite Perry and began the difficult task of explaining. It took a while, as it required an overview of the whole Garvey affair, and Perry was slightly Bemused from his big jump. Judith did not delve too much into her own history with Dacian, simply stating that she had thought the worst of him and been proven wrong, and now owed it to him to conduct a rescue, given how he had been manipulated into violence.
“If you say so,” said Perry doubtfully. “But to go against the carriage of justice doesn’t sound like you, Mother.”
“I am not obstructing justice! Quite the contrary. They are not giving him a fair trial, or indeed any trial! They intend to send him on a suicide mission to Austria.”
“Austria?” Perry tutted. “It will be freezing there. And Frenchmen everywhere. Not safe at all.”
Judith, not wanting to dwell upon the possibility, pulled out the topaz ring that she had been keeping in her skirt pocket. The dull blue stone seemed almost black, the gold tarnished. Dacian had worn it the whole time he had been in exile: a gift from his old schoolfellow, from a family of Travellors. Now it would be the first step to his freedom.
“This ring,” she said resolutely, “will Travel right into Captain Drumpellier’s office in the Pendennis Tower. All you need to do, Perry, is go there and spy the lay of the land, so you can Travel back at will.” He would not be able to Travel into it, sight unseen. “Best to do it now, while it is so late, and unlikely that the captain will be at his desk.”
Marigold sniffed. “He might have put a guard on it. He’s not stupid, old Drumpy.”
“Yes, you must be very quiet,” replied Judith. “Ltn Greene could be on watch outside the door—I doubt Drumpellier would let him stay inside his private office, as it is full of coded messages. Or someone else could be on guard. We must hope they are drowsy by now, but Perry, you mustn’t leave the room—simply look out the window and learn the lay of the fort and barracks. That way you can Travel in again later, to somewhere Drumpellier doesn’t expect.” Judith leaned forward with entreaty. “Don’t take any risks. Just gather information. When we make our proper attempt, I will come too, with the ring, and distract the guards.”
Perry grimaced. “Mother, really? Let me do it without you.”
“No, you couldn’t,” she said sharply. “It’s crawling with soldiers. We shall have to be very clever to even have a hope of succeeding.”
An odd smile came onto his face. “Ah, but I have a secret weapon.” He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out an object, triumphantly holding it aloft.
In which coats are disguised
Guile is preferable to violence.
— from Lady Avely’s Guide to Guile and Peril
Perry held up a grey stone: round, smooth, and unremarkable.
“A rock?” said Marigold dubiously. “You’re going to throw a rock at Drumpy? He is not Humpty-Dumpty.”
“It’s not just a rock,” explained Perry, with some annoyance. “It’s a shatterstone. We found a bag of them on Sark. They’re imbued with Impact and explode with great force. This little pebble should be able to blow up a prison wall easily.” Carefully, he placed it on the mantelpiece.
Judith drew a breath. “We can break Dacian out of his cell!”
“Whoa, wait a minute!” Marigold put her hands up. “I can’t believe I’m the voice of reason here, but are you suggesting we blow up a part of Fort Pendennis? Are you mad? Do you want to lose your mind, and your power too, Judith, like Dacian? Because that is what the Custos will do, if they catch you at it.”
Judith lowered her gaze. She could not say that with Dacian wrenched from her, it would be almost preferable to forget. Anyway, that would be a lie. She could not allow her spirit to be broken. She had her children to care for, Robert, the castle—even Marigold, if she would stay.
“No,” she admitted. “But how will they know it is me, if I blow up a wall? Drumpellier will not suspect a dignified matron, and even if he does, recall that it is an Impacting spell. We can say that it was Dacian. Perhaps in his confused state, wild and not himself, he allowed his power to explode. That would only be Drumpellier’s fault.”
Marigold looked unimpressed. “Well, I think it better if we just use Mr Avely to Travel inside the cell, snatch the duke up, and return. Why do we need to throw bombs around?”
“It would be fun.” Perry grinned. “But I take your point. Why don’t you draw me the duke’s cell, Mother, and I can try Travelling there?”
“Because we haven’t seen his new quarters,” said Judith. “They’ve moved him again, or so Yvette told Marigold. We need to find Yvette again, and hope that she can tell us where he is now.”
Marigold’s nose wrinkled. “If she’s still hanging about.”
“Who’s Yvette?” demanded Perry. “Another bat?”
“Yes, and she has been invaluable,” said Judith. “She carried my letter to the duke, and I have high hopes that she continues to watch over him and Wooten.”
“Wooten? Who’s that now?”
“Yet another bat,” said Marigold, her bare shoulders showing as her handkerchief sagged. “You’ll probably like him. He’s quite particular about clothing.”
“As he should be.” Pointedly, Perry looked away. “Right, then, it sounds like we have an army of bats on our side.”
Marigold cleared her throat. “Wooten is a man down, actually. He drank the Lethe and fainted. He might have recovered by now, but we cannot count on it. I’ll come, though.”
Perry did not look thrilled at the prospect, and he was starting to argue about the potential use of the shatterstone again when there was a tap at the drawing room door.
“Yes?” called Judith. Could that be Mrs Ulrich, back already from her investigation of the cliff-face?
But it was Miss Onslow herself who came through the door, her expression alight with curiosity. And she dragged in Robert at her side, firmly tucked into her arm.
His expression was extremely reluctant.
“Oh!” cried Miss Onslow. “You succeeded in your quest, Miss Cultor! How wonderful.” She hesitated at their rather blank reception. “We were in the library, but the baron wandered in from his stargazing. He was asking all sorts of questions, so we thought it best to leave him. Then we heard voices in the drawing room! We could not resist coming to see if Marigold had succeeded.”
Marigold preened a little, but Judith frowned. The baron was rather underfoot lately. She was tempted to lock him in his room, to keep him out the way.
Miss Onslow ducked a curtsy, glowing at Perry. “You must be Mr Peregrine Avely! I am so glad to meet you!”
Perry nodded, rather taken aback.
Judith, through force of habit—and being forced by Miss Onslow’s misconduct—uttered an introduction. “This is Miss Sophia Onslow, a Memor who is cataloguing the castle’s library. Miss Onslow, my son.”
Perry managed a perfunctory bow, then his eyes moved on to Robert. Robert stood like a statue, pinned next to Miss Onslow, his face blank.
“And who’s this?” asked Perry.
Judith floundered wordlessly. “Ah…”
Miss Onslow laughed. “Surely you must remember your own cousin? It’s Robert, of course.”
Perry stared. “My cousin? I can’t remember any cousin by name of Robert.”
“Ahem,” said Judith desperately. “On your father’s side. Um, Uncle Gerald’s son.”
Gerald had been her husband Nicholas’s youngest brother, and a bit of a dissolute rake. He had (handily) died the year before from heart failure. Judith hoped that a proper respect for mourning would dispel further questions, but in fact landing on Gerald had another effect.
Perry widened his eyes in sudden understanding. “Oh! I see! One of Gerald’s by-blows, are you?” He thrust out a hand to shake Robert’s. “A nice surprise, to have a new cousin emerge from the woodwork!”
Robert took it awkwardly. “Yes,” he said stiffly. “Indeed.”
Miss Onslow dropped her hand from Robert’s arm and took a step back, her eyes darting from one boy to the other. Robert’s jaw tightened, but he did not look at her. He was appraising Perry with a narrowed gaze.
Perry chuckled. “Uncle Gerry was always a bit of a rake and troublemaker. Are you like him, then?”
“Er, no.” Robert’s eyes slid to Judith, and he seemed to take some satisfaction in her expression. “I don’t believe so.”
“More’s the pity,” said Perry. “My father was a noble sort, which is a bore, you know, trying to live up to it all the time.”
Judith’s innards twisted in mortification. Perry did not know that his ‘noble’ father had sired the illegitimate son before him. Hastily, she waved her hands, desperate to change the subject.
“Well!” she said brightly. “Perry is here, yet now he must depart again! Are you ready to try the ring, Perry?”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” said Perry. “Hand it over. Let’s trot it out.”
Judith shook her head but dropped the ring into his palm. “Just be careful, won’t you? Reconnoitre only. No foolish risks.”
“Seems to me, Mother, that you have only one leg to stand on, and it is wobbling,” said Perry. Then he slipped the ring on his finger, twisted it, and vanished.
There was sudden silence in the drawing room.
Robert stared at the empty space. “He didn’t even say Veho.”
“He doesn’t need to; it’s his own Gift.” Judith suddenly felt a bit overwrought, seeing Perry disappear into thin air. Had she really just sent her son into an enemy military fort? What had she been thinking? Perry would do something foolish, and be shot, and then she would never see him again, and…
Robert stepped up to her and grasped one of her shoulders with a firm shake. “He’ll be back. Give him at least five minutes before you start panicking.”
She took a deep breath and turned her eyes to the clock next to the shatterstone. “Yes, you’re right. Five minutes, then I panic.”
It was ten minutes before Perry returned. By then Judith was pacing, wringing her hands. She was not even able to curse out loud, for Miss Onslow sat primly on one of the settees, her own hands folded neatly. Judith wished the stupid girl would just go away. She didn’t need strangers lurking around in this time of family crisis—except that Robert was sitting next to Miss Onslow and he seemed happy to have her there.
They were quietly talking. At least Miss Onslow wasn’t giving Robert the cut direct, now that she knew he was illegitimate. The atmosphere of high tension must be serving to undermine the usual rules of society. Marigold, who never had much regard for society, was reclining on the mantlepiece with an unseemly amount of leg showing beneath her lavender silk kerchief. Really, Judith must sew her a new gown as soon as possible. At least, she was pleased to note, the mantlepiece had been dusted now that Mrs Ulrich was finally playing her part. Though what use was a clean mantlepiece if one’s son disappeared forever?
When Perry reappeared, Judith almost fell upon him.
“Thank God,” she said fervently, clasping his hands. “I’ve changed my mind: Perry, you can’t go back in there ever again.”
Perry blinked around at them. “Nonsense, Mother, I’m going back in ten minutes. One of your bats caught me.”
Judith fell back a step. “Who? Which one?”
“Miss Belfleur, apparently. Black-haired little Frenchy.”
“Of course.” Judith sagged in relief. “Sensible girl, to suspect I might show up in that tower again. I wonder if Dacian told her to keep a look out for me.”
“Hmm,” said Marigold, twitching her handkerchief.
“Yes, well,” said Perry, “The delightful Miss Belfleur leapt into my hair and hissed at me to duck behind the table, which I did. Then she almost ripped my ear off, until I explained why I was there, and that you sent me, Mother. Then she announced that she would fetch another bat—Wooten, I believe?—for me to take back. She flapped off again, leaving me crouched behind the desk.”
Judith looked at his empty hands. “But you haven’t got Wooten.”
“No. I crept out from the desk and tiptoed over to the windows, like you told me. Got a good eyeful of the courtyards below, and the barracks. I was committing it to memory, when I heard footsteps on the stairs.”
Miss Onslow gasped.
Perry glanced at her. “So, I thought it best to disappear for a bit, and here I am. But I need to go back to fetch this Wooten fellow. From what Miss Belfleur told me, he’s in a bit of a bad way.”
Judith gnawed on her lip. Of course they must help Wooten—poor, brave Wooten—but she didn’t have to like it. “You heard footsteps! There might be someone in the tower now!”
“Yes,” said Perry patiently, “and they’ll look around, see nothing, and go away again. I’ll give it ten minutes. Probably best if I wait a bit, anyway, otherwise I’ll get too Bemused.”
