The woman glanced over at the only other person who hadn’t yet spoken – a man in his early thirties by Raphael’s approximation. ‘I believe Claude is visiting friends in St. Malo.’
Claude…
‘And you are…?’
There was a sudden silence, then the man gave the barest inclination of his head ‘Julien Dubois. I am Monsieur Fontaine’s secrétaire.
‘Ah, then you could well be just the man I need. While we wait for Monsieur Fontaine’s arrival, you can show me where he keeps all matters pertaining to the estates. It will be tremendously helpful if we can get a head start on such mundane affairs.’ He gave a broad smile, which was not returned. Indeed, Julien Dubois looked very much as though he would prefer to be anywhere other than where he was.
‘I do not think we…’ the secrétaire began, only for Tristan to hold up his hand.
‘I’m certain Monsieur Fontaine values your opinion, but standing in the hall is not the place for me to hear it.’ He turned to the middle-aged lady standing motionless. ‘Madame, since you have not told me your name, I must beg your forgiveness if I seem rude. I presume you are the housekeeper?’ He paused, looking at her inquiringly, giving her no option but to respond.
‘I am theGouvernante, yes,’ she murmured after a moment. ‘My name is Marie Laval.’
‘Are there any other staff?’ Tristan enquired.
‘Only Thomas… Lefevre. He works outside.’
‘Then would you please locate Thomas and request his assistance in bringing in the luggage?’ Tristan was taking the utmost care to ensure his tone remained firm and pleasant, but his companions could see the signs of strain on his face. ‘Then perhaps you could ensure that four rooms are made ready initially.’
‘Initially?’
‘That is what I said,’ Tristan confirmed, his voice turning a little cooler. He was beginning to tire of their obvious prevaricating. ‘Then, a pot of tea would be most welcome. Please direct us to the salon.’
It was another five minutes before the housekeeper showed them into a faded but surprisingly cosy room. The large fire crackling merrily in the huge fireplace gave testament to its regular use.
‘Jeanne will bring your tea,’ she murmured, before hurrying out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.
‘Very impressive, Tris,’ Roan declared as soon as they were alone. ‘I truly didn’t know you had it in you.’
‘Once a nobleman, always a nobleman, obviously,’ Tristan quipped with a faint grin.
‘How long do you think we’ve got before Fontaine turns up with reinforcements?’ Gabriel asked Raphael, watching the Frenchman peer out of the window.
‘Whether he’s taken in by Taffy’s story or not, he now knows we’re here,’ Raphael retorted. ‘Likely, he’s already on his way back - with hard riding he could be here before dark …’ He stopped at the sound of a sudden thud against the door. Then another. Slowly, the latch was lifted, and the door started to open, before abruptly being flung back on its hinges.
As one, they got to their feet and turned towards the now wide-open door… just in time to see Taffy sink to his knees in the doorway. A second later, he fell face down onto the floor, revealing a large knife sticking out of the centre of his back.
Nineteen
‘Do you think we should have heard something by now?’ Rosie asked, putting down her éclair after only one bite.
‘Ye gaun tae eat that?’ Finn immediately quizzed her, his hand already hovering over the confection to prevent Dougal getting in there first.
‘Finn,’ snapped Percy. ‘If your mother was here now, she’d be horrified at your manners. Anyone would think you haven’t been fed at all today.’
‘Aye, but that be two hours ago,’ the boy wailed, ‘an’ right noo, ma belly dae think ma throat hae been cut.’
With a tired smile, Roseanna picked up the half-eaten cake and gave it to the ravenous boy. For once, Dougal merely narrowed his eyes and gave an indignant sniff as he watched Finn shoved the entire éclair into his mouth.
‘I think this is one of those situations we’re expected to use our own initiative,’ Reverend Shackleford declared, rubbing his hands together.
Rosie favoured her grandfather with a suspicious look. Having only recently been on the receiving end of his more questionableinitiatives, she was understandably wary.
‘We dinnae want tae be askin’ fer reinforcements afore the Frog gets tae speak wi’ Fontaine,’ protested Dougal.
‘Absolutely not,’ Augustus Shackleford agreed – a little too quickly in Percy’s opinion. The curate eyed his superior narrowly.
