‘I do not think that’s an option,’ he responded. ‘As you say in England,the cat is out of the bagnow. It will not take long for those in charge to put two and two together. Once they realisethe lost heir is still alive, they will take steps to silence him – this time forever.’
‘But what if there is no ongoing conspiracy? What if Etienne Babin was simply the head of a group he created due to a deep-rooted hatred of the English?’ Roan countered. ‘At the end of the day, he had no idea of Tris’s real identity.’
‘You do not believe that any more than I do. Etienne Babin is a thug at heart, and my instinct is telling me that the man has been manipulated from the very beginning.’ Rafe swallowed the rest of his brandy and shook his head. ‘Are you a betting man Captain Carew? Are you willing to wager Tristan’s life, and possibly the lives of members of your family that you are right and I am wrong?’
The silence was absolute until a sudden delighted chuckle. ‘Tatties o’wer the side an’ nae mistake,’ Dougal crowed when all eyes turned towards him. ‘Ah niver kenned for one wee minute we’d be sailing tae France, Augustus. So then, when are we off?’
Five
Augustus Shackleford was hard pushed to argue with Dougal’s assessment of the situation. Thetattieswere indeed over the side, and worse, against all the odds, they wouldallbe going to France. In truth, he’d have wagered the weekly collection money that the hardheaded Frenchman would throw out any suggestion that they make a jaunt of it. But Faith’s argument that a group of men turning up at Montclair snooping around and asking questions would attract far more suspicion than a mixed company of people enjoying a short tour of the area unexpectedly won Augustin’s support.
The Reverend was currently sitting by a cheerful fire in the small library after covertly helping himself to a second brandy from his son-in-law’s excellent selection. Flossy was snoring happily on his lap, and everyone else – as far as he was aware – was getting ready for dinner. Staring into the fire the clergyman wondered for the umpteenth time at the Almighty’s decidedly capricious sense of humour. There had been a time when he’d felt confident in every action - convinced God was directing his every move. But in recent years, he often felt plagued by indecision.
Solving mysteries had always been irresistible to him, but lately he found himself far more focused on the risks rather than the rewards. The Reverend sighed. Likely, it was simply his age. But he certainly wasn’t ready to settle into a comfortable dotage with Agnes. When he really thought about it, there wasn’t much that wascomfortableabout his wife. He’d got to the point where he was reluctant to admit to having a deuced cold, in case she accidentally poisoned him with one of hermedicines. Faith was right, he really did need to remove all her potions and tinctures. Living at the Vicarage was becoming a test of fortitude...
Taking a sip of his brandy, he forced his mind back to the problem at hand. When the fictitioustourwas first proposed, he’d imagined they would sail before Percy and Finn arrived. However, that was looking increasingly unlikely since Roan had sent urgent messages to Nicholas, Gabriel and Tristan asking that they attend him at Redstone House without delay. Naturally, there was no further explanation, in case any of the letters should fall into the wrong hands. Unfortunately,without delaycould mean anything from a week to a month depending on how quickly the missives actually got into therighthands.
All in all, Augustus Shackleford was in a bit of a quandary. He did not dare send a note to Percy, since instructing his curate not to come without saying why was likely to bring the mutton-head running all the quicker.
The Reverend took another sip. The main problem was that nobody actuallyknewhe’d invited Percy and Finn to Torquay. As soon as Finn set foot in the door and discovered they weresailing to France, there would be absolutely no way to avoid bringing him along short of locking him up – and even then, the boy was a passable lock picker courtesy of his ‘Aunt’ Patience. He was also more than capable of stowing away if he had to.
Which meant he and Percy would have to come as well.
Thunder and turf, the whole mission was beginning to look more like a deuced family outing by the minute, and he didn’t imagine Raphael Augustin had quite this level of realism in mind when he agreed to the added passengers.
And then there was Dougal…
The thought of minding the unpredictable Scot on a sea voyage made him bilious. Of course, he could always simply return the troublemaker to Blackmore, but there was no more chance of Dougal agreeing to miss out on a sea voyage than there was Finn. That said, the thought of them both on deck at the same time filled him with horror. What were the odds of at least one of them falling overboard? Emitting a small involuntary moan, Reverend Shackleford quickly swallowed the rest of his brandy, hoping to erase the picture in his head. Finally, with another, longer sigh, he stared into the fire and allowed his mind to drift back to all the havey-cavey situations he and Percy had been involved in over the years. They’d put a rub in the way of many a varmint’s plans. He gave a low chuckle, beginning to feel a little better. At least it would be a bit like the old times with Percy along.
And when all was said and done, it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that he’d rediscover a bit of his old bottle. Not that there was much chance of Percy suddenly developing a backbone, since the chucklehead had never had one in the twenty-odd years he’d known him. However, Reverend Shackleford was certain that the curate would, like always, at least keep him company while he dusted down his superior investigative skills to prove that Tristan Bernart really was the Marquis de Montclair rather than the upstart currently lording it up in the chateau.
And they could always tie Dougal up.
The next few days were a hive of activity as both Roan and Faith began preparing for their upcoming trip. The only two members of the family who wouldn’t be accompanying them were Joshua and Emma. Josh had mercifully returned to school a week earlier, and Emma was deemed too young. Though undeniably miffed at missing out, the youngest Carew was mollified at the thought of possibly staying at Blackmore for the duration.
Roan was out of the house more than he was in it as he sought to finish the repairs to his ship – theFaith and Fortune. It had indeed been fortunate that the vessel was not due to sail until January - though her First Mate, a taciturn man of middle age, was not best pleased at the idea of an impromptu trip to France.
Henrietta’s offer of help was waved away by her mother who requested only that she see to her own packing – making sure to include warm,sensibleclothing before drily reminding her daughter that rural Brittany was most definitely not Paris.
By the end of the week, Henri’s trunk was closed and ready to be loaded onto the ship. More than anything, she wanted to erase the incident at the Poulton’s Hotel, and by focusing on her packing, she was able to push the entire episode to the very back of her mind – most of the time anyway. Unfortunately, being busy did nothing to expunge thefeelingof being seated in Raphael Augustin’s lap. Indeed, she could vividly remember every embarrassing second, especially the incredible warmth of his body, the icy blue of his eyes, inches from her startled ones – moving from surprise to… something else. The feel of her hearthammering under his fingers as he instinctively sought to steady her.
In truth, she was entirely bewildered by the muddle of feelings the incident had provoked, and when the Frenchman announced he was returning to London while they were waiting for the arrival of the others, she didn’t know whether to be relieved or sorry. He’d cited the need to research everything he could about the so-called caretaker currently residing in Chateau Montclair, without raising any undue suspicion. Unsurprisingly, no one could find fault with his reasoning.
Indeed, Henri suspected the entire household was actually grateful to see the back of the enigma that was Raphael Augustin, especially given his answer when questioned what would happen if Tristan categorically did not wish to pursue his claim.
The King’s spy had merely shrugged and replied shortly that the matter was now out of his countryman’s hands. He would be going to Montclair whether Tristan wished it or not.
Over the next few days, the weather became decidedly colder and drier, making it much easier to navigate the town on foot.
Reverend Shackleford was not normally prone to excessive introspection, but for some reason the possible presence of Percy had become an almost biblical catastrophe in his head. He didn’t know where such an absurd feeling of imminent doom had come from and, after lying awake for two nights, put it down to eating too much cheese at dinner. Still, moping around Redstone House was certainly not helping matters, so he tookit upon himself to show Dougal ‘the sights’ of Torquay. While he would rather have wandered the paths and lanes alone with only Flossy for company, he decided that Dougal left to his own devices was infinitely worse that having the mutton-head under his feet.
Fortunately, on their first perambulation, Henrietta happened to be coming out of the library and, on being informed of his intention, offered her company.
Almost immediately, Augustus Shackleford breathed a sigh of relief as his granddaughter chatted happily to Dougal, pointing out the seaside town’s more interesting sights, leaving him to loiter behind with the excuse that Flossy needed to do her business. However, after ten minutes or so, the Reverend became interested despite himself. The town had changed quite considerably since his last visit – especially the harbour area, which now sported a charming promenade along the seafront.
As they walked, Henri pointed out her father’s ship rocking gently at anchor a few yards from the shore. Even from here, the Reverend could tell theFaith and Fortunewas bustling with activity. Sailors were swarming all over her rigging while provisions were being hauled up onto the deck.
‘She’s no wee lassy, that’s fer sure,’ Dougal declared excitedly as he stared over at the ship. ‘Ah cannae wait tae climb aboard. Dae ye reckon yer da’ll gie me the helm?’
