Marigold Chain (25 page)

There was a
long silence and Giles wisely left him alone. Then, rising, he
poured more brandy into Alex’s glass and pushed it into his
hand.

‘
Drink
that and pull yourself together,’ he said harshly. ‘Alternatively,
if you’re going to throw up again – go and get it over with. We’ve
work to do.’

It worked. Alex
looked up, white but with a glimmer of his usual astringence.

‘
It’s all
right,’ he said. ‘My guts are dismantled but I’ll live. You can
continue.’

‘
Good.’
Giles paused and then said, ‘Will you tell Chloë?’

Alex stared
back blankly. ‘In God’s name, what for?’

‘
She
might want to know the truth.’

‘
And will
it make her feel any better? If she has a right, it’s to be
protected from knowledge that can only make her even more upset
than she already is.’

‘
I’m
glad,’ said Giles simply, ‘that you realise it.’

Alex
contemplated him between narrowed lids, then said curtly, ‘Very
clever. But if you’ve finished testing my discretion, I think we
should get on with the business in hand.’

‘
Very
well. Then try this for size. The yard-arm was cut and Freddy saw
the man who did it.’

The blue gaze
sharpened. ‘Did he catch him?’

‘
Oh yes.
He caught him, all right. He killed him.’

‘
Freddy
killed him? I wouldn’t have thought he
had it in him. In fact, I wish he hadn’t.’

‘
So do I
– but he had no way of knowing.’

Alex leaned
against the window embrasure.

‘
Clearly.
But if Danny was killed, it must have been for a reason and it
would help if we knew what it was.’

‘
We do
know. It was because of something he learned from Sir William
Clerke.’

Alex frowned.
‘Clerke? The Secretary at War?’

Giles nodded.
‘His knee was shattered and they had to amputate. He didn’t survive
it but Danny was with him for a while before he died and he told
Freddy that Clerke thought there was more than inefficiency to the
consistently poor intelligence we’d received.’

‘
And
that’s all?’

‘
No.
That’s all Freddy knows.’ He paused. ‘I told you that Danny’s mind
was wandering and perhaps it was. But he said two things that made
perfect sense.’

The muscles of
Mr Deveril’s jaw tightened. ‘Well?’

‘
He
said,’ replied Giles, his voice level and empty, ‘that Freddy would
tell me what he knew so that I could deal with it. And then he made
me promise not to tell the two most obvious people.’

Their eyes met
and locked.

‘
Arlington and York,’ breathed Alex, taking his thought. ‘But
of course it’s not either of them … and we’ve got to make a new
list.’

‘
We
have,’ agreed Giles, ‘but, if I’m right, it may be a shorter one
than you think.’ He moved away to the fireplace and leaned one
elbow on the mantelpiece. ‘I’ve done a bit of checking. The man
Freddy killed was one Miles Warner and, like so many of us, he’d
been taken on as a super-numerary. He’d also – so Danny told Freddy
– been with Sir William at Harwich.’ He paused. ‘My guess is that
Warner was a cut above the usual tools used by our anonymous
friend. It’s only supposition, you understand, but it seems likely
that some hitch occurred which gave Clerke the suspicions he spoke
of to Danny. He may even have known more than he was able to
tell.’

‘
In which
case, Warner was despatched to remove him?’ suggested Alex. ‘Yes.
That would fit. Only, of course, he didn’t need to because a
combination of the Dutch and the Naval surgeons kindly did the job
for him.’

‘
I think
so. But he was probably watching Clerke, which is why he saw the
need to … ‘ He stopped, not wanting to say it.

‘
To get
rid of Daniel,’ supplied Alex inimically. ‘Don’t be diffident. Very
well. If he was intelligent enough to work that one out and to act
on his own initiative then, as you said, he may well have been a
senior operative. And if he was sent by the principal to dispose of
Clerke, I think we can assume he knew the principal’s identity.’
His smile did not reach his eyes. ‘What a pity Freddy killed him.
We might have cut out the paperwork.’

Giles was
familiar with the technique Mr Deveril used to cover moments of
weakness but on this occasion it made his stomach churn.

‘
If
you’re about to become facile,’ he said coldly, ‘I’m
leaving.’

There was a
pause and the pale, impervious gaze altered a little.

‘
In that
case, I’ll restrain myself,’ said Alex by way of apology. Then, ‘I
take it you’ve checked on Warner?’

Mr Beckwith
nodded. ‘Superficially, yes.’

‘
And?’

‘
And he
was employed by no one – openly. But he was known to be friendly
with a number of gentlemen in the Duke of York’s set. So that’s
where we start.’

Alex rested his
chin on his clasped hands and stared abstractedly at Giles, a faint
frown creasing his brow.

‘
This man
… he’s clever. We both know how difficult it is to set up this type
of operation and yet remain anonymous.’ He hesitated and then went
on, ‘It sounds damned silly, I know – but the sheer perfection of
the cover we’re trying to break reminds me of
something.’

‘
Go on,’
said Mr Beckwith. ‘Try me. I promise you I never felt less like
laughing.’

Alex picked up
his glass and turned it between his fingers, meditatively watching
as the amber-coloured liquid caught and reflected the light.

‘
When we
were working for the Knot, I had a certain amount of warning that
exposure was imminent. I used that time to pass on the knowledge to
as many of our people as I could reach. I also attempted to locate
the sources of their information – one of whom was Wyllis, with his
crassly indiscreet letters to Thurloe. The other was a cautious
gentleman whose name I never discovered because I believe only
Cromwell knew it. But he was good; he had all the attributes of the
professional – careful attention to detail, an eye for what to
report and a superbly-preserved incognito. Just,’ finished Alex
pensively, ‘like the man we’re looking for now.’

There was a
long silence, then Giles said, ‘Are you suggesting they’re one and
the same?’

‘
No. I’m
suggesting it’s a possibility worth considering. We’re after
someone who is as good as we are ourselves – probably better. With
all due modesty, I’d like to point out that there can’t be many
candidates. And if it
is
the
same man, we’re going to need more luck than judgement if we’re to
catch him.’

Mr Beckwith
sighed and dropped into a chair.

‘
On which
cheering note, I suppose we’d better get to work.’

‘
In a
minute,’ said Mr Deveril, getting up. ‘You spoke of two things
Danny said that made perfect sense. What was the other?’

Giles looked up
at him, fine-drawn with exhaustion. ‘It wasn’t important.’

‘
Nevertheless. I’d like to know.’

Suddenly too
tired to care, Giles shrugged and said, ‘He asked if it would soon
be dawn – said he didn’t want to go in the dark. He asked me to
explain to Chloë and give her – and you – his love. Then he said,
“Tell Alex he’s lucky and it’s time he knew it. He’s too clever to
see what’s under his nose.”’

Very slowly,
the ice-blue gaze widened and filled with too-innocent enquiry.

‘
Dear
me,’ said Mr Deveril mildly. ‘Dear me … I wonder what he
meant?’

Giles came
swiftly to his feet.

‘
Do you?’
he asked with bitter hostility. ‘Then I think you must be suffering
from necrosis of the brain.’ And striding to the door, he wrenched
it open and left.

Standing quite
still, his back to Persephone and her dryads, Alex watched him go,
a crooked and rather desperate little smile touching his mouth.

‘
Exit pursued by a bear
,’ he announced to the
empty room. And laying his fingers carefully on the rim of the
table, he stared down at them with an air of disciplined
control.

*

Dry-eyed and
face down on her bed, Chloë stayed all day alone in her room, her
soul awash with numb desolation. The simple daily duties of her
household were forgotten. Outside the bitter rawness of Danny’s
loss, her only remaining thought was that somewhere in the house,
Alex suffered too but would have to hide it in public as she did
not; that to him would fall the task of telling Matthew. She knew
it but shrugged it uncharacteristically aside. She had no comfort
to give.

The hours wore
by; afternoon passed and then evening. The moon rose, sending pale
bars of light through her window to lie in silvery pools on the
floor. For a long time Chloë lay staring at them. Then, levering
herself stiffly into a sitting position, she swung her feet to the
floor. Her hair was clinging to her face and lying in tangled coils
about her neck. She pushed it absently aside, all her attention
tuned to listening. There were no sounds; the house was apparently
asleep. Chloë got up.

Wraith-like,
she moved down the stairs to the hall. There she hesitated for a
moment, her head turned towards the open parlour door and then,
obedient to an inner prompting she did not try to analyse, she
moved towards it.

The room was
dark but she knew without looking that it was not empty. She always
knew when Alex was close by. She stepped inside, then stopped. He
was at the window, one arm resting upraised against the frame and
his profile silhouetted against the faint grey light as he stared
pointlessly into the garden. Chloë stood for a moment, watching and
then turned away, quietly so as not to intrude.

Restless now
but lacking a purpose, she went to the kitchen, lit a candle and
placed the heavy kettle on top of the dying embers of the fire.
Then she sat down to watch it. Almost immediately there was a small
sound behind her and she turned slowly. It was Mr Deveril, the
planes and tangents of his face oddly changed by the poor, shadowy
light.

‘
Hello,’
he said quietly. ‘Do you mind if I join you?’

The stark brown
gaze rested on him dumbly then, shaking her head, she turned back
to the fire. For a second, Alex stood still, then he picked up the
solitary candle and began lighting others.

‘
I hope
we’re not economising,’ he said. ‘I realise that the price of
candles is quite scandalous but I’m abysmally clumsy in the dark.
Especially on unfamiliar territory. And I don’t think I’ve been in
here since the day you accidentally swept the chimney.’

Apathetically,
Chloë turned again and discovered that the alteration in Mr
Deveril’s features had nothing to do with the light. He had
discarded his coat and above the whiteness of the cambric shirt,
his skin was the colour of parchment and stretched tight over bones
which seemed suddenly too sharp for it.

‘
You look
tired,’ she said with what seemed a very great effort. Then, taking
a deep breath, ‘And I don’t suppose you’ve eaten. You should have
something.’

He smiled
bleakly. ‘Possibly. But I don’t think I could.’

Chloë let her
head fall forward. ‘No. Neither could I.’

Alex looked
thoughtfully at the veiling curtain of rose-gold hair. Then, ‘The
kettle’s boiling. Shall I lift it off?’

‘
I’ll do
it.’ She moved the kettle on to the hob and then stood looking at
it as if she couldn’t remember what she had wanted it
for.

‘
I don’t
suppose,’ said Mr Deveril gently, ‘that we have any tea? Or that
you know how to make it?’

‘
Tea?’
repeated Chloë vaguely. ‘Yes. The Queen gave me a box. Do you want
some?’

He nodded and
sat at the wooden table. ‘It might do us both good.’

She eyed him
blankly and said abruptly, ‘I think I’d rather get drunk.’

‘
No, you
wouldn’t. It doesn’t help – take my word for it.’ He smiled again.
‘Make the tea.’

So she did and,
when it was poured, sat facing him from the other side of the
table. She stared at the steaming brew and turned her cup round
without speaking for a long time. Finally, she said, ‘Have you told
Matt?’

‘
Yes.
Don’t worry about it.’

She picked up
the cup, spilled it badly and put it down again, withdrawing her
hands to the safety of her lap. Then she stood up again and reached
for a cloth.

‘
Leave
it,’ said Alex. ‘It doesn’t matter. Sit down.’

She looked at
him a little wildly.

‘
I can’t
believe it. It’s silly … but I can’t believe he’s dead. Not Danny.
He is – was – so full of life. And so
young
. It doesn’t seem possible.’

‘
I know.
Sit down, Chloë.’ He waited till she had done so. ‘You have to
believe it because it is so. We both know what he was – and that
it’s unjust and cruel. And we know how much we’ll miss him. But
life isn’t always fair … nor does it stop when the unspeakable
happens. Today has been about shock and grief. Tomorrow you have to
try to go on with all the things you’re thinking don’t matter. And
the next day and the next until it becomes easier. We all do.’ He
paused. ‘You should cry. It might help.’

‘
I
can’t.’

His gaze on his
untouched tea, he said expressionlessly, ‘You loved him. I’m
sorry.’