“I was shocked, but they took him. He is in your dungeon, here,” answered the advisor.
“I want him interrogated,” commanded the King. “I have known since my boyhood that he used some enchantment on my grandfather to obtain his place here at court, and now Iwillknow why! You will interrogate him thoroughly.”
“It will be as you say,” promised Maurepas.
In a dark prisoncell deep beneath the palace, water trickled down the stone walls from the dampness. A rat scurried from one corner to another, then burrowed under the straw upon the floor.
TheComte St Germainentertained three prison guards in this cell, behaving no differently than he might in a glittering drawing room. He regaled the men with tales of his travels, and the wonders of the world that he had seen. At this moment, he made them all howl with laughter at his description of the most astounding set of breasts he had ever encountered, on the person of a young maid in mediaeval Vienna.
The men roared with laughter, passing a flask of spirits around, and thecomtepretended to drink when they offered it to him. Suddenly a shadow appeared at the door, and the new King’s advisor cast them all a glare as he entered. The guards sheepishly left the cell, and Maurepas closed and locked it, taking the only key with him.
The next morning,Maurepas made his way to the cell, followed by the palace torturer, and two French noblemen who would serve as witnesses to everything theComte St Germainwould say under interrogation.
Maurepas turned the key, and the heavy oak door swung open, to reveal a completely empty cell.
“I believe that heallowedus to catch him, do you not?” said one of the noblemen. “I think he came just for the amusement.”
CHAPTER 38
The morning after Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley left for Chichester, Uncle Gardiner arrived from London in search of them.
“I am glad they are already on their way, Lizzy,” her uncle confided in Lady Catherine’s drawing room in the company of the occupants of the house and all of their callers. “I shall be glad of some refreshment, and I will follow them directly.”
“I am grateful to have an introduction, Mr Gardiner,” said Mr Woodhouse as he drew near to them with Miss Woodhouse on his arm. “The younger men have told me of several interesting investments that they have entered into with you. Might I request that you send some information to my friend, Mr Knightley? I may myself be interested.”
“I certainly shall, Mr Woodhouse. I know Mr George Knightley well, if that is the man you mean,” answered Edward Gardiner politely. “He speaks of his home in Highbury frequently. Do you visit London very often?”
“We go but rarely, sir,” answered Miss Woodhouse for her father. “My father dislikes the discomforts of the city. I hear from your nieces that you live in Cheapside? I must admit, I have never had occasion to visit the neighbourhood. How curious itmust be to live in such a bustling area. Cheapside must be very different from the quiet refinement of the country, but I imagine it has its own… unique charms.”
Elizabeth steamed in indignation for her uncle, and even saw a look of irritation cross Jane’s usually placid visage. Before she could open her mouth to give Miss Woodhouse a set down, the young lady spoke again.
“You must be so proud of Miss Elizabeth’s marriage prospects, Mr Gardiner. For your niece to put you into the sphere of someone of Mr Darcy’s standing is quite an achievement, especially for a family with such a varied… background. You must consider it a relief that the gentleman seems so determinedly blind to certain… lesser connections.”
“It is obvious that I have neglected your social education appallingly if you do not know that a man like Mr Gardiner is in regular company with a great many landed gentlemen and even noblemen, Emma,” said her father in disapproval of her rudeness.
Mr Gardiner elegantly ignored Miss Woodhouse as he promised to send some information to Mr Knightley. Mr Woodhouse took his leave of them and Lady Catherine, and the pair departed.
A short while later, Elizabeth and her sisters were taking their leave of their uncle in front of Bourne House, when he said to her, “Of course, I will say nothing to anyone in town, it is not my business, but there are a number of men there who would be very interested in knowing the location of Sir Albert and Lord Lennox just now.”
“What of them, Uncle?” Elizabeth asked curiously.
“It is said that Swinton has finally gambled it all away. He will have to sell his country estate or face Newgate. Indeed Sir Albert is so heavily in debt that he fled the city some weeks ago, the bailiffs have been searching for him, and Lord Lennoxdisappeared from the capital under similar circumstances around the same time,” her uncle answered. “Lennox is not to lose his estate, but he is heavily encumbered, nonetheless. He will have to sell something eventually to pay his debts, or marry a dowry. I would not mention it in company if I were you, it would be incredibly indelicate, but Mr Darcy’s cousins and aunt should be aware of it if they are courting the young ladies.”
“The ladies ignore them mostly. No one takes them seriously,” replied Elizabeth. “I will pass the information along to Lady Catherine, all the same.”
“The sooner the men can return to keep an eye on those young bucks, the better,” grumbled her uncle as he boarded his carriage, and departed for Chichester.
Later that morning,thecomtewas making his way through the house. None ever knew how the man entered and exited for his appointments with Lady Catherine, he came and went as mysteriously as a fog. There was a terrible noise from the music room, a pedantic pounding upon the keys of the pianoforte, as a measure was played poorly, the same one, over and over, until eventually a cry of despair was heard, followed by a great crash upon the keys. Thecomtelooked into the music room, to find Mary Bennet weeping as if her heart would break with her head down upon the keys of the instrument.
“Whatever can be the matter,mademoiselle, it cannot be as terrible as all that!” thecomtedrawled languidly as he entered the room.
“Oh!Monsieur le Comte, I beg your pardon, I thought I was alone,” apologised Mary Bennet as she wiped her eyes. “You must pay no attention to me, I am hopeless.”
“Why do you pound the keys like you are angry? Your music, it does not flow. The music is meant to rise and fall like the waves of the sea. The notes must rise to the highest pinnacle, then wash down gently upon the listener. Your way is not how Mozart intended it to be played,” said thecomte.
“How do you know how Mozart intended it to be played?” asked Mary miserably, her head still resting upon her folded arms.
“I knew Mozart well,” thecomtetold her.
