Page 30 of A Proposition for the Comte
Violet closed her eyes, trying to think. She was certain that the initials of one ‘D.C.’ had been on a list she had found in the locked bottom drawer of Harland’s desk just after he had died. Were these men his associates in crime? Did Douglas Cummings have some knowledge of the loss of gold and could he be as dangerous as Aurelian predicted?
My God, today just kept throwing problems her way and now she did not quite know how to tell Amaryllis that she shouldn’t go to the Gardens without also having to tell her of some of her suspicions.
If Amara saw the list of initials, she could be in even greater danger than she was now. Ignorance in the face of violent greed was probably the safest stance to maintain.
She cursed the soul of her dead husband yet again for all the problems that he had left them with. A coward. A sycophant. An immoral and arrogant man who saw himself as the very centre of his universe. A man who fancied himself as the key player in the politics of subversion between England and France and yet had taken much of the gold and used it for himself. Her eyes flicked across the faces of her two nephews. They were pale and withdrawn. She did not even know how much they could have seen of the events at the stables when Harland had died, for Amaryllis had always kept them close so she had no true gauge on their involvement. Violet remembered hearing footsteps running by and after Harland’s death they had become quieter and less bold. The very thought of what the truth could do to them made her push such a thought away. Children knew very little and yet believed in everything. She frowned because it had been so very long since she had felt truly whole and hopeful.
‘The Minister Mr Charles Mountford has called to see you, my lord.’ Aurelian’s servant stood straight as he gave the name.
‘Send him in, Simpson.’
Lian hoped that the surprise he felt was not reflected on his face. What the hell could Mountford want? He opened the drawer beside him so that his pistol was at hand, glad he kept the weapon primed and ready as a matter of course. Surely the man didn’t mean to confront him with force in his own house and in front of a battery of servants? Within a moment Mountford was before him, hat in hand and the steely grey of his hair reflected in the light.
‘De la Tomber.’ As he walked through into the room he turned to shut the door behind him, a quick flick of the lock alluding to other darker things. Standing still as this was done, he looked around.
‘Is it safe here? To talk?’
‘Perfectly.’
‘I want to relate something to you in complete confidence and strictly between ourselves. I am relying on your honour, you understand? This cannot be allowed to be public information.’
‘Then now might be a good time to tell you that I work for the Ministère de la Guerre in Paris. Ah,’ he said after a few seconds. ‘But I see that you already know that?’
Knowledge lay in Mountford’s eyes, revealing a recognition between those who were immured in the murky depths of intelligence.
Lian continued. ‘And my guess is that you think I am involved in the scandal of the missing gold. The gold the supporters of Napoleon Bonaparte sent in order to find a foothold for resistance in England.’
‘Well, I have my questions and doubts about you and the presence of the gold is certainly a topic of interest in the Home Office but I am not here today for that. I am here because I think Lady Addington is in jeopardy.’
‘Hell.’ The tone of the discussion had changed completely.
‘And I want to keep her safe.’ Mountford’s confession sounded genuine and heartfelt. ‘She is my goddaughter and I promised her mother I would watch out for her.’
‘How is she in danger?’
‘She is right at this moment making her way to Hyde Park to have a walk with her sister-in-law and two nephews. An overdue enjoyment of winter sunshine, I should imagine. The small Addington party will arrive in about ten minutes. The thing is, and this is where you come in, I think Violet has been compromised because of some of the unlawful actions of her late husband, Harland Addington. One of my agents reported word on the street that she is the target of those who wish her harm, great harm. I think she has a need for protection from someone who would see those minions as amateurs and deal with them effectively and quietly.’
‘And you hope that someone will be me?’
Mountford was implying that he, as the Minister in charge of the Home Office, could not deal with the perpetrators without being tied up in red tape. He was delegating such violence to Lian, a member of a French agency known for its use of violence. There were seldom coincidences in intelligence, a place where survival often harmonised with the need for pragmatism.
From the tone of his words Lian also realised the perpetrators were not from the political arm of either England or France. Mountford wanted the matter dealt with quietly. He did not want a scene, but he also did not want Violet Addington hurt.
This was to be no official mission. Hyde Park would be crowded with the ladies and gentlemen of a society who would be so much better off not seeing the crawling underbelly of violence.
Already Aurelian was moving, reaching for his gun and pocketing it.
‘Which gate?’
‘Stanhope.’
‘Who else do you have there?’ He could not believe a man with as much influence as Mountford had would want to be completely cut off from the happenings.
‘Douglas Cummings and a few others from the Office. They have orders to watch Violet.’
‘Do you trust him? Cummings?’
‘Yes, but at the Home Office we must play the cards we are dealt. To show our own in such a public place leaves us vulnerable, you understand.’
