I held my peace until late in the night, when the guests began to drift away. I invited Emile and Gabriella to stay on when the Auberges and Deveres departed, for a quieter visit with Donata and myself. I’d given Donata Denis’s letter to read yesterday evening, and she’d agreed with my wish to share its contents with Gabriella and Emile.
Grenville and Marianne had departed early, as Marianne had predicted. I hadn’t been able to corner Grenville privately to offer my congratulations, but by the wariness in his eyes when we said goodnight, I was certain Marianne had told him that I knew.
The house quieted, and the four of us retired to the private sitting room. Donata lounged on a sofa, her slippers sliding from her feet as she yawned. Bartholomew, in no way weary, brought us refreshing cups of tea and warm brandy.
I wasn’t certain how to broach the subject with Emile and Gabriella, so I simply handed them Denis’s letter.
Donata and I waited while Gabriella helped Emile through the English missive, both of them growing increasingly troubled as they read.
Emile raised his head once they’d finished. “I do not understand.”
Donata answered him gently. “The gist of the matter is that Monsieur Potier mentioned in his last dispatch that he would visit your family, and then he vanished. The question is, did he ever reach them?”
“You believe my uncles had a hand in the disappearance?” Emile asked, his voice cracking. “He must have retired, as the officials said.”
“Potier was responsible for the shooting of your grandfather,” I said. “Among a number of other people. I am not purporting to know exactly what happened to him, but your uncle Fernand has grown very angry with me for even inquiring about this man.”
I did not remind Emile of the hostility with which I was met at the factory when I’d turned up, uninvited, even before Fernand had learned of my interest in Potier.
“Because Monsieur Potier was evil.” Tears stood in Emile’s eyes. “Those days are best forgotten.”
Gabriella slid her hand to Emile’s and squeezed it. “Father is not trying to rake up the past,” she assured him. “But if someone else were to question your father and uncles about him, it is wise for us to be forewarned.”
“Indeed.” I warmed that Gabriella understood my intentions. “I should not like you to be caught up in events that, as you say, are best left in the past. But I feel you should know about them.”
“My father could not have been involved with anything untoward,” Emile said with more conviction. “He is the most peaceful of men.”
His uncle Fernand was more volatile, however, and the brothers took their cues from him. All four had been fairly young men during the time in question, and Emile could not know what his father had been like then. Emile had been born after the radical government had gone, leaving Lyon to pick up its pieces.
“I am hoping that is the case,” I said. “I will ask you not to mention this to your family, not yet. They are upset enough, but I did not want you not to remain in ignorance.”
Emile nodded, though I could see he was vastly unhappy.
“Thank you for telling us, Father,” Gabriella said, her voice steady. “I agree we should not air such things with Emile’s father or Uncle Fernand.”
Gabriella kept hold of Emile’s hand as she spoke, and I had an inkling of who would be the prop in this marriage.
I was uncertain whether the gendarmes would bother investigating the history of a hated man who’d vanished twenty-five years before. The monarchy had been restored and, as Grenville posited, an agent of the radicals who’d deposed the king would not be missed. The Deveres would likely be lauded by their neighbors for ridding the world of such a man.
And yet, the Devere brothers feared.
“Those were sad times,” I said to Emile. “Violent ones, too. Very few escaped tragedy. If your uncles did act, it is understandable.”
“They would not have,” Emile returned stubbornly. “I am certain you are wrong.”
“I possibly am.” I gave Emile a reassuring nod. “I apologize for upsetting you, but it is only fair that you know of the possibility.”
Emile thrust the letter back at me. “What you have avoided saying is that you suspect Signor Gallo was blackmailing my uncles about it.”
“You and Claude searched Gallo’s rooms for whatever hold Gallo had over them, did you not?” I asked as I returned Denis’s letter to my pocket.
“Yes, but we did not know what it was about,” Emile countered. “I have come across no sign of this Potier fellow in connection with my family, or even heard mention of him.”
“I have not either,” Gabriella put in.
And yet, I’d seen the name Devere emblazoned on a page of the ledger Brewster had discovered, as well as the amount they’d given Gallo. The payment might not have been to conceal information about what had happened to Potier, but Gallo had known something that worried them.
“Again, I am very sorry to tell you of this.” I rose, and Emile and Gabriella followed suit. Donata remained on the sofa, her eyes bright as she watched us. “I will have Brewster escort you home.”
