“I will destroy the letters, of course,” I said. “Never fear. The ledger as well. My man has hidden that somewhere, but I trust him to unearth it for me again.” I hoped Brewster hadn’t literally buried it, but I honestly had no idea what he’d done.
Signora Ruggeri rose. “Then I will leave you to it. I give you my word that every single thing Vincenzo and I collected is in that box. I never want to see those papers again.”
Her disgust made me believe her. How long Signora Ruggeri would remain on the path of righteousness, I could not tell, but her true terror on the river would likely make her step back from crime for a while.
“Is your coachman going with you?” I asked her.
A flush stained her cheeks. “He is. Dumont has been with me from the beginning of my journey and has become a loyal friend. I believe he is sweet on me, poor man, but I will treat him kindly.”
I was not certain whether she had true fondness for Dumont or simply saw his usefulness, but her eyes did soften when she spoke of him.
“Be well, Miss Cooke.” I took her hands, dared to kiss her cheeks in the French fashion, and then released her.
Signora Ruggeri studied me closely for an alarming moment, as though assessing what sort of protector I’d be, then she shook her head.
“I will try, Captain Lacey. Good-bye.”
“Godspeed.”
Signora Ruggeri bathed me in one more smile, then turned and glided through the door Bartholomew opened for her, as though on cue. A perfect exit.
I heard Bartholomew direct her down the hall and then front door open and shut. After a few moments, carriage wheels grated on the graveled drive, and Signora Ruggeri was gone.
Bartholomew returned presently with coffee for me, followed by his brother, Matthias, a signal that Grenville had returned. Matthias bore a large box with a stout lock.
“She left this for you, Captain,” Bartholomew said as Matthias set the box squarely on an empty table in the corner of the room. “Oh, and this too.”
With a grin, Bartholomew produced a key from his pocket and laid it on my open palm.
Chapter 31
Grenville, Donata, and I spent the rest of the afternoon sorting through the papers and letters, cross-referencing them with the ledger Brewster brought out of hiding.
Brewster helped Matthias build a large bonfire in the garden, and we burned the entire contents of the box, save for Madame Paillard’s letter. That, I would return to her personally.
I opened her letter only enough to ascertain that it was the one she sought, then I folded it again and wrapped it in another paper. Though I was curious, it was Madame Paillard’s secret. It would be up to her to tell me what the letter contained, if she wished.
We decided to take the ledger to the comtesse and let her inform those inside it that they no longer had to fear. They would have more confidence in her, I concluded, not the interfering foreigners.
A few days later, I tucked Madame Paillard’s letter into my pocket and made my way to the Presqu’île and her cozy home.
Moreau was with her. His face was pale and drawn, but when he shook my hand when I was shown into the sitting room, his grip was strong.
Madame Paillard drew me down to kiss my cheeks and then warmly embraced me.
“You are much welcome here, Captain.” She kissed me again before releasing me. “You have done me so many good deeds that I can never repay you.”
I cleared my throat, uncomfortable with her adulation. “I have done very little, I assure you, Madame.”
“Very little.” Madame Paillard’s laughter tinkled as she led me to a sofa. “The English are famous for pushing away praise. Saving my Nico’s life and sending him home to me was not little.”
Moreau, who appeared as embarrassed by her gushing as I was, gave me a nod. “I owe you a great debt.”
“You did catch the grippe, which I’m certain was humbling enough,” I told him. “Consider it a debt paid.”
I knew Moreau would not agree, but he nodded again, limping slightly as he resumed his chair near the fire. Still healing from Madame Jourdain’s knife, I assumed.
I drew the letter from my coat pocket and held it out. “Madame, your correspondence. As it was private, I did not read it.”
