‘That is all very well if the wasps are settled, but in this case I think they are swarming and ready to sting anyone who dares ask questions,’ said Miss Austen with a hint of impatience. ‘My room was searched and letters stolen merely because I was seen accompanying Miss Fitz-Pennington as she visited Barnes Terrace.’
‘I was pushed in front of a carriage, and Miss Fitz-Pennington’s hackney cab had fireworks thrown at the horse, almost causing a serious accident last night,’ added Jacob.
‘There were many fireworks last night,’ said Vorontsov.
‘You are suggesting it might be a coincidence?’ said Dora. ‘Then how do you explain the two men who pursued me after I escaped the carriage?’
Julien went back to the piano and ran his fingers over the polished top, pausing on a miniature in an ornate frame that looked as if it could be his mother at the height of her fame. ‘But why? I cannot think of any reason why anyone would do such things.’
‘Nor can we at the moment,’ said Jacob. ‘But if we were attacked, then it stands to reason that you might also be a target.’
Clutching the picture, he threw his arms wide, appealing to the heavens. ‘But Lorenzo is dead! Cannot my parents be left in peace?’
‘He may not have worked alone, sir,’ said Jacob.
Julien put the frame down and turned his back to it, a protective gesture. ‘Worked? You mean you think he had some kind of reason other than being employed as a servant to live in my parents’ household?’
Now he was beginning to understand! It was about time the young man woke up to the danger.
‘You should consider the fact that your father was close to the government and his opinion was valued. It would not be surprising to find the enemy planted informers in his circle to find out what he was saying.’
Julien folded his arms, still in denial. ‘But Lorenzo was a deserter. He hated Napoleon.’
‘Was he? How do you know that?’
‘Well, he told us.’ Julien swallowed, letting his arms fall to his side. ‘You’re right–sacré bleu, you’re right! I’m a fool. We didn’t know much about him when Father took him on. He just seemed amusing and personable. My father liked his staff to be handsome. He said it reflected well on the household.’
‘I do not understand what this man is saying,’ said the countess, appealing to her husband and shooting disapproving looks at Jacob. ‘Do you, Ivan?’
Vorontsov went to stand behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders to give a comforting squeeze. ‘He is saying,ma chérie, that Bonaparte might have infiltrated the D’Antraigues household and engineered an assassination of our friends. As much as I would prefer to think the deaths were the act of a solitary madman, I am forced to admit that no one holds a grudge like Napoleon.’
‘Non!Ce n’est pas possible!’ said the countess, applying her lacy handkerchief to her eyes which brimmed with tears. ‘C’est une horreur!’
Her friend reached over and took her hand. ‘Courage,madame.’
Feeling rather ungentlemanly to have so upset the ladies, Jacob could do nothing but plough on with their enquiries.
‘Comte D’Antraigues, did your father leave you any papers, anything to do with the political reporting that he engaged in for the Foreign Secretary?’ he asked.
‘Me?’ Julien looked shocked at the suggestion. ‘No! I have no interest in such things. I take after my mother. My passion is music.’
‘Have you been through the contents of his study here?’ asked Dora.
‘Yes, with the help of Count Vorontsov– oh, and some men from the Foreign Office came to take everything associated with Father’s work for them. They said it was a matter of national security.’
So the cupboard was bare here, already picked clean. ‘You should make that fact as generally known as possible,’ said Jacob, standing up to go. ‘If you have nothing of that nature close at hand, you are unlikely to be of interest to the people who attacked us. However, I would caution you to be on your guard. Somehow, we have stepped into murky waters and I don’t see the bottom of them yet.’
‘Very well. Thank you for the warning. I would suggest you give up your enquiry, but I imagine it is too late for that?’ Julien conducted them to the door.
‘Indeed, it is,’ agreed Jacob. ‘The hounds have slipped their leashes and are not yet back in the kennel.’
Julien glanced over his shoulder, checking they were out of the hearing of his Russian guests. ‘If you find anything…pertinent, will you let me know? They are my parents first and foremost and I am the one most concerned with their legacy.’
‘We understand, sir,’ said Jacob. ‘And I know our client is as anxious not to damage their reputation as you could be.’
‘I would hate people to judge them. They led unconventional lives.’ Julien gave one of his magnificent shrugs, a ‘what do you expect?’ gesture of the generation that danced its way blindly into the revolution. ‘But they were both brilliant in their own way. I count myself fortunate to be their son.’
Chapter Eighteen
