Louisa Rawlings (43 page)

She sneered at Hubert. “I suppose you intend to beat him again.”

“Damn your interference, your prying questions,” be muttered. “I didn’t want to, the first time. I only did it to fill him with fear, to impress upon him the need to keep silent. Never to talk of it again. Not even to confess it to Père François.” His eyes were dark with hatred. “Damned little whore. Should have been in a convent, instead of studying at home! But Adelaïde wouldn’t hear of it. A strumpet at thirteen, and Adelaïde never even knew. Coupling with every farmer, every rawboned gawk who could be enticed into a hay rick. Little bitch! Poor Léonard didn’t have to be seduced. There were admirers enough without him.”

God forgive me my sins
, she thought. “You have affection for him,” she said gently.

He rubbed his hand across his eyes. “Does it surprise you? He’s God’s curse upon me, I suppose. An idiot son, fated for an early death, so the doctors tell me.” He sighed. “But now I have a new turn of the cards. Immortality, perhaps.”

“Because of that…Justine?” She’d nearly said “trollop”. But with her own vile and shameful past (mercifully forgotten), she could scarcely judge the other woman.

“Do you think I don’t see it, when they laugh at her? Scorn her? I’m not blind to her limitations. But if she has a son,
my
son, in her womb, and can bear me more children, I don’t give a damn.”

“No matter what it does to Fleur?”

“Ah-h-h! My dear wife. So patient and long-suffering. I should have preferred a little rage, a little jealousy.”

“Easier on your conscience?” she said.

“Insolent baggage!” He raised his hand and slapped her sharply across the face. “You’ve been nothing but trouble,” he growled. “Why did you have to come here? But for you, I should have had the money I need, with no complications. And Léonard would have been at peace, the memories fading as they should. But you were his friend. He
had
to tell you everything.”

Not everything. There were still so many questions. She ignored the soreness of her cheek, the urge to curse him with every street oath she’d ever learned. She glared at him. “What happened to me, after Léonard came and told you, that day?”

“
You?
” To her astonishment, he began to laugh. “Have you come to believe your own lies? You and that cursed nephew of mine? My God, look at your face. Such feigned surprise. Where did Lucien find you, on the stage? You’re good at it, girl. I have to grant you that. I thought you were Véronique’s ghost, that first day. Come to torment me.”

Her eyes widened. Véronique’s
ghost
? “Where is Véronique?” she whispered.

“Dead. And would have stayed so, but for your masquerade.”

Her trembling legs could scarcely support her.
Dead?
she thought.
Then who am
I?

“I suppose you want the whole story.” He shrugged, a world-weary gesture. “Well, why not? Léonard killed Véronique that day, though he never knew it. I told him she’d run away.”

“Because she was angry at him. Because he’d hit her.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s what he thought.”

“And Narcisse Galande? Was he part of the story?”

“I hadn’t planned it. But he saw Léonard with Véronique. Or guessed at what happened. He came to blackmail me, that very afternoon. I killed him, and buried his body with Véronique’s.”

“Sweet Jesus. But that’s monstrous! If it was an accident, if Léonard didn’t mean to kill his stepsister, why did you have to hide it?”

“Léonard had left the mark of his signet ring on the girl’s cheek. There was no mistaking it. Accident or no, he would have been forced to tell the whole dirty story. The shame to him…the shame to the family…”

“But to keep such a terrible secret, all these years…”

“Are you so saintly? You forget I know what a liar
you
are. Quite apart from Léonard’s humiliation, it would have been stupid of me to say a word. With her beloved daughter dead, how long do you think it would have taken Adelaïde to seek to have our marriage dissolved?” His mouth curved in a bitter smile. “My brother Simon would have seen to it. Père François had already filled his head with pieties. In his view, Marie-Madeleine’s false faith had caused God to frown upon the house of Chalotais, taking all his children at birth. Can you imagine Simon’s moral revulsion if he’d known the truth of what happened? A wrongful death, a brother’s incestuous knowledge of his stepsister? My psalm-singing brother would have driven us all away, to protect the sanctity of his godly home. The damned hypocrite. He’d long since forgotten the secular greed that had directed his own marriage.”

She gasped. She should have realized it long since. “
You
denounced Simon’s marriage. To disinherit Lucien, and have Grismoulins for yourself!”

“Of course.”

“You villain,” she choked.

“Why? It wasn’t a lie. I did it for gain, true enough. But I didn’t claim to be someone I wasn’t, my little fraud.
Your
self-righteousness ill becomes you.”

Fraud.
She hadn’t thought of it, until now. “Wait a moment. You knew I wasn’t Véronique the very day I returned! I never deceived you. You knew I
couldn’t
be Véronique. Why didn’t you unmask me at once?”

“How? By telling the truth? Don’t you see, I couldn’t even oppose you with too much heat, once the others had begun to think you were dear sweet Véronique. It would have seemed more than malevolence on my part. With the inheritance at stake, it might have led Bonnefous to question my motives.” He waved his hand, an aristocratic beneficence. “But I could afford to be generous. As long as you didn’t marry in haste, you were no threat to me. And I was curious, wondering who’d put you up to the game. I thought of Pachot, but there were too many intimate details in your recitals. Lucien, of course, was the logical one; I confess to a certain bewilderment when he was reported to be in Guadeloupe. How did you manage that?”

“We all have our devices.”

“Indeed. And you played a neat hand. I couldn’t decide what the game was, who the players were. By the time Lucien appeared, the money had been safely invested. I thought I’d been mistaken in my suspicions of him. But since the bulk of the money is with that banker in Nantes, I knew I could always retrieve it when I wanted it.”

She laughed sharply. “In that, dear Hubert, you’re mistaken. We played a better game than you think. The money’s long gone.”

She thought he’d be in a fury at that, but he merely shrugged. “A pity. Well, it’s insignificant compared to the Marcigny holdings.” His face was a mask of evil. “And they’ll be mine, when Véronique dies again. This time for good.”

She felt a thrill of fear, yet an odd sense of relief as well. “Of course. The tunnel. You locked me in. You tried to kill me.”
Thank you, Blessed Virgin. It
wasn’t
Lucien.

“It was the tunnel, of course, that made me realize Lucien was your accomplice for a certainty. I saw you go to the library a few times. And when I sought you, you’d vanished. That’s when I remembered about the tunnel. Simon had shown me, years ago. I knew that no one but Lucien could have showed you it. Still, you did play your parts well, the two of you, when he chose to arrive openly. Dear cousins, rediscovering each other.”

“You wrote the note and put it under my door last night.”

“Yes. And followed you, and bolted the door.” He dipped his head in a salute. “You were very ingenious. I went back later, thinking to seal the tunnel for good and all—Véronique’s tomb—and saw you’d escaped. I went to your room to find you.”

“
Dieu!
I knew there was someone at my door.”

“It was wise of you to lock it. I should have smothered you in your bed.”

She shivered. He was so cold, so detached. “I thought I’d been playing with
you
all this time, thinking myself on sure ground. But you were playing with me. Holding my life in your hands. It was you at the mill, wasn’t it?”

“I’d watched you and Lucien. Followed you a few times, when you went to the mill to exchange messages. I knew you came in the mornings. I simply waited for you that day. The wind was high. It took only a moment to throw the lever. The arms didn’t have to kill you outright. But alas. You lead a charmed life.”

She pointed to the edge of the rock slide, only a few feet away. “I suppose you would have thrown me over the cliff.”

He smiled. “Well, it would have been an accident that couldn’t be traced to Léonard. Though I considered having Lucien accused of your death. It seemed a neat touch.”

“Dear Beau-père.” Her voice was deep with scorn. “But you should have tried to kill me
before
my birthday. It would have been so much simpler.”

“I
did
. Léonard told me, that day, you were going out on the lake.”

“By Saint Pierre…the leak in the boat!”

“Yes. I watched from the bank. I intended to save Léonard, then claim afterwards that I’d been too late to save you.”

“Didn’t it occur to you that I might be able to swim?”

“I’d considered it. In which case I planned to drown you. But the workmen appeared, and it was too late.”

She shook her head. “Were you born without a shred of conscience?”

“I thanked you for saving Léonard’s life. I meant it then. I mean it now. But conscience has nothing to do with the realities of the world.” His eyes were the cruelest eyes she’d ever seen, devoid of all humanity. “And the realities, my dear girl, mean that you must die. If you’ll oblige me…” He pulled a pistol from his pocket and pointed it at her breast. “Toward the edge of the cliff, if you please.”

She shook her head. “No. You’ll have to shoot me. And they’ll know it was no accident.”

He laughed, a low sound that sent chills up her spine. “I can put the gun in your hand afterward. And leave a suicide note suggesting that your guilt and remorse over your past drove you to take your life. Besides, the rocks are sharp below the cliff. By the time your body reaches the bottom, it might be difficult to discern
how
you died.” He brandished the pistol. “The edge of the cliff, please.”

Topaze looked about, her eyes darting from the deadly weapon, to Hubert’s face, to the sheer drop some eight or nine feet behind her. If she could run, elude him, dodge the shots from his pistol… She might even be able to hide in the mill. But not if she couldn’t get past him. He’d drive her back and back, and over the edge at the last. Her heart was pounding, a fierce thump that quickened her senses, sharpened her instincts. Topaze, the street urchin. She wasn’t beaten yet. If she could distract him for a single moment…

“How long must I w-w-wait, Papa?”

Hubert glanced over his shoulder and swore. Léonard had emerged from the mill and now stood, hangdog, at the edge of the meadow. His eyes were red from weeping. “You’ll wait as long as you must!” barked Hubert. “Go back inside!”

The opportunity she’d been waiting for! Topaze forced a laugh, bright and jolly. “No! We’re playing a game. I don’t see why Léonard can’t join us, Beau-Père.”
Pray God the ruse works
, she thought. “Beau-Père is pretending to be a highwayman, Léonard. You see? He has his pistol. And only look at the fierce gleam in his eye!”

Léonard wiped at his tears. “A game?”

“No,” muttered Hubert. “Go back to the mill. I…”

She cut him short. “La, Beau-père! I have an ally now. Come and challenge our wicked highwayman, Léonard, and show him you’re not afraid. I’ll run for help before he can mount his steed and ride away.”

Léonard came galloping over, as though he himself were astride a horse. “I like this game, Papa.” He jumped up and down and pointed his finger at Hubert. “I have a pistol, too, knave.”

“Damn it! Get out of the way, Léonard!”

But Topaze had already raced past them, away from the dangers of the cliff edge, and toward the safety of the trees that flanked the hill.
Oh, God!
She tripped, turned her ankle. It. took her a moment to recover, and then she was off again, limping slightly and cursing Hubert under her breath.

Frustrated by his son’s dancing form, Hubert tried another tack. “Yes, Léonard. It’s a game. But don’t you want to be a highwayman like me? Come. Join me. Ride after the wench and bring her back. Quickly!”

Léonard bubbled with happiness. “You want me to be on
your
side, Papa?” He laughed. “Never fear. I’ll capture the wench.” He thundered after Topaze, overtaking her in a moment.

“Let me get away, Léonard,” she whispered.

“Oho, wench! We’ll hold you for ransom.” He grabbed her around the waist with his large hands, and tucked her under one arm. “I have her now, Papa,” he crowed, marching back to Hubert. “Will we hold her for ransom?”

“No. I’ve learned she’s a spy. She must be executed. Put her down there, and stand clear.”

Léonard grinned at Topaze as he set her on her feet, then he affected a fierce scowl. “You hear that, wench? You’re to be executed.”

Name of God, what to do now?
“Léonard, it isn’t a game anymore. He means to kill me.”

“
Stand clear, I say!
”

Léonard’s mouth trembled. “P-Papa, you don’t mean to…”

Hubert swore violently. Léonard clapped his hands to his ears and backed away from Topaze.