The Fencing Master's Daughter Read online

  “Thank you, Charlie. Can you keep looking for Stacks and Cramp, please? I need to find out who set them on me. If you discover anything more about Madelaine and Louis Deschamps, it would also be of use.” Edward gave Charlie a small purse to reimburse him for his trouble and sweeteners he had already disbursed. They shook hands and Edward showed him out. After Charlie left, Edward ruminated on what he had learnt so far. The powerful reaction he had to Madelaine and his indebtedness to her needed to be solved.

  Not least he needed to know more about Louis Deschamps' background and what his true name was, before he could announce his engagement to Mademoiselle Madelaine. Thinking of her adorned with flowers, gliding towards him on her father’s arm as he stood waiting nervously at the altar of the old church at Chalcombe St. Mary. Then he pictured Julian's father binding them together in holy matrimony. This daydream had a strange fascination for Edward and the fantasy contentedly occupied his thoughts for the rest of the morning.

  Chapter Five - Jeu de Cartes

  Madelaine set off with Henri for Claudette's with the knowledge that they had reduced the backlog of orders which had overwhelmed the salon. It would be her last day that week to work at Claudette’s. When they reached Claudette's, Henri left for the market to purchase provisions. He selected some apples for a sliced apple tart which Madelaine particularly enjoyed. Henri expected Madelaine to remain working at Claudette's until he returned to collect her at the end of the day. Henri returned to the salle having made his purchases. He occupied himself preparing the evening meal and in bottling some oranges he had chanced upon. He feared the cognac he used to preserve the oranges was smuggled, but there was no substitute for good French brandy.

  Having put everything into good order, he banked the range and strolled off towards Mayfair. Henri was an hour or so early, but had been recommended to an inn close by, where the landlord's home-brewed was well thought of. English ale was a taste Henri had decided he should work at assiduously to appreciate.

  ***

  Madelaine expected her day would be spent industriously plying her needle, but on entering Claudette's establishment, she was hustled upstairs and out of the disfiguring bonnet and brutally plain redingote.

  "Annabel's gone off with that fancy man of hers!" was the only explanation whispered to her by Nicola as she was pushed into a chair and her hair unbound from its plaits.

  "Madame's in a fury and her expecting Lady Weathingston at eleven o’clock to pick a trousseau for that whey-faced daughter of hers. You have such beautiful hair, if only you'd let it be cut, we could do all the current styles with it," she moaned.

  Madame Claudette bustled in to oversee the transformation, dismissing as missishness Madelaine's protests about not being employed as a mannequin! Nicola had piled the masses of hair high on the top of Madelaine's head and carefully teased her hair into loose curls over her ears and one long ringlet over her shoulder. Madame approached to dust her face with rice powder and to smooth a delicate shade of carmine into her lips, ignoring Nicola's mutterings about “gilding refined gold and painting the lily!”

  A paste aigrette tucked into the primrose curls made the finishing touch to the coiffure and Madelaine was allowed one glance in the mirror, before being dressed in the latest Indian sprig muslin suited to a young matron.

  Madelaine was ready just before Lady Weathingston's footman opened the salon front door and Claudette gushingly ushered Milady and her daughter, together with a primly dressed maid into the salon.

  "Oh Milady Weathingston and Mam'selle Caroline, you are both in such looks today, Milord Wroxham is lucky indeed to have such an exquisite bride to be!" gushed Claudette, curtseying grandly.

  For the next two hours Madelaine demonstrated mode after mode to the accompaniment of Madame Claudette's running commentary.

  “Our mannequin, Madelaine is demonstrating the very latest evening gown. An amber crepe dress over a white sarcenet under-skirt, lavishly trimmed with pearls with a demi-train; the Sicilian style tunic is trimmed with a single row of pearls: the short sleeves fit close to the arm and are ornamented at the top with distinct points of satin in the same colour as the dress…”

  As soon as Madelaine had posed decorously in one costume, Nicola and Mary-Jane helped her out of it and into the next. Day gowns in striped and sprigged muslin, pelisses in fine merino wool trimmed with ermine or velvet collars and cuffs, followed carriage and walking dresses accessorised with fur muffs, ornate spencer jackets and a variety of fetching matching bonnets. The bonnets were not produced by Claudette’s girls, but a prestigious milliner provided a number of her exquisite creations to match Claudette’s specifications for the purpose of displaying her gowns correctly. Claudette would take a percentage of any sales made through her introduction.

  Claudette had selected the colours and modes she displayed to best flatter Miss Weathingston’s sallow countenance, preferring shades of amber and bronze, creams and Maria-Louisa blue to the brighter reds and pinks preferred by many fashionable young matrons.

  Madelaine exhibited each expensive creation with a graceful flourish, moving as if she was on a dance floor with delicate flowing steps. Madelaine sashayed back and forth like a fairy princess. The soon-to-be Lady Wroxham was enraptured by the beautiful creations, but the girls in the background giggled maliciously that her dumpy figure and unfortunate complexion would not look half as well, in Madame Claudette's stylish creations as did Madelaine.

  Luckily neither Lady Weathingston nor her daughter realised that, and a vast number of purchases were made to Madame Claudette's great satisfaction. Unfortunately, as Madelaine floated into the salon in Madame Claudette's piece de resistance, a ball gown in forget-me-not blue silk draped with silver spangled white gauze and trimmed with seed pearls and silk roses in shades of delicate blues complete with a demi-train and a chicken-skin fan painted to match, Lord Wroxham entered the salon to see if his affianced bride and her mother would be pleased to accompany him to Gunter's to partake of some ices.

  Luckily, Lady Weathingston failed to notice his arrival at first, for his jaw dropped open at the vision of Madelaine and he stared as if poleaxed. By the time Lady Weathingston became aware of his presence, he had managed to force his countenance back to a fashionable nonchalance and Madame Claudette hurriedly hustled Madelaine to the rear of the salon. That Lord Wroxham's sighting of Madelaine had resulted in no repercussions relieved both Claudette and Madelaine. Madelaine did not wish to act on a regular basis as mannequin, even though it paid better, because it would attract attention to her.

  Madelaine’s scruples in refusing to become some gentleman's chére ami amused Claudette, but she failed totally to comprehend her determination to resist even perfectly respectable offers of marriage. Henri left the hostelry about half an hour before the appointed time, intending to wait at Claudette's back door for Madelaine's appearance. He sauntered down the street, considering the evening meal he intended to present and looking in the windows of the shops he passed. He stopped outside a jeweller's because he planned to buy Madelaine a small present for her birthday and was seeking some pretty earrings. Entering the shop he asked to be shown a pair which had caught his eye, he was busy attempting to persuade the shopkeeper to lower the price to one more of his liking. Glancing up through the glass of the bow windows he fell silent. Then remembering the jeweller, handed back the earbobs and said he would call another time, hurrying out of the establishment.

  On the other side of the street a man walked quickly away from Mayfair and Henri set off in pursuit. Weasel was dressed very differently from the filthy sailor's garb Henri had seen in him before. The whiskers had been shaved and the ginger hair looked neatly trimmed under a dark beaver hat. He now wore the plain clothing of a clerk or man of business, but his right arm was held up in a sling and was clearly tightly bandaged. Weasel was ill at ease, he stopped and looked back, but Henri managed to slip into the shadows and was sure he had not been spotted. Henri stayed well back as he followed Weasel
along narrower less frequented streets and was beginning to worry that Madelaine would miss him.

  Then at last Weasel turned into a building, one which rented rooms to working fellows providing meals as well as lodging. Henri waited, ducking into an alley almost opposite the house but Weasel did not reappear. Spying a young urchin, he called him over and asked him to take a message for Madelaine.

  “Go to Claudette’s, ask for Madelaine, and tell her to call a hackney and start dinner without me. Tell her I might be very late returning,” he said proffering sixpence.

  Nicola was overjoyed to accompany Madelaine home in the hackney carriage as she herself lived only a few streets further than the Deschamps’ salle. Madelaine paid the hackney driver covering the extra distance to Nicola's home.

  Madelaine assumed Henri's reasons for asking her to return alone were that he had fallen into convivial company and was enjoying a few glasses with some genial spirits. Henri had made friends in the émigré community, with whom he could converse freely in the only language he spoke without effort. Madelaine herself had learnt English at her mother's knee and French at her father's. With a natural ear for languages, she had quickly became fluent in Italian in Rome, German in Vienna and Hungarian in Budapest. Latin and ancient Greek she had acquired from her father's books along with mathematics, astronomy, tactics and sciences which few young ladies were taught.

  She had also acquired a smattering of Flemish, Portuguese, Spanish and Russian. If she had been inclined to boast, she might have informed her listener that she could order a meal or rebuke a servant in all the capitals of Europe, with little likelihood of being found at fault. Educated at first by her mother and latterly her father she had no training in musical instruments or painting a pretty watercolour, but she had an extensive knowledge garnered from books in many languages.

  From time spent in Henri's kitchen, she had no problem completing the meal he had prepared and serving her father and herself, with a fine repast of marinated chops with a remove of beans and chopped vegetables tossed in butter and the apple tart to follow on time for dinner. Her father commented on Henri's absence, but like her presumed Henri had found cordial company and a bottle or two of wine. Henri did not have a regular evening off, but when the inclination took him, he would absent himself, knowing Madelaine was an adequate substitute. After dinner having cleared the plates away to the basement, Madelaine settled down to hem some shirts she had been asked to make.

  Louis retired early, “It’s not necessary to wait up for Henri, Madelaine, he has a key. You should go to bed too,” he said, kissing the top of her head as he stood to leave.

  “I’ll just finish these shirts, Papa, sleep well,” she replied. Henri however, was not much longer in returning, as Weasel had made only one short excursion to fetch a jug of porter, from the nearest inn and there had seemed little likelihood he would go out again that evening.

  Finding Madelaine alone in the drawing room, he explained where he had been that evening. It was obvious to both of them that the earl must be informed of Weasel's whereabouts at once, but it was far too late for Madelaine to go visiting. She insisted that Henri must go and tell the earl everything that he had seen, but he protested that his English was not up to the challenge of doing so.

  “Then I shall write what you tell me in English and you must deliver it to Grosvenor Square," decided Madelaine.

  Edward was not at home when Henri arrived in a hackney carriage which he asked to wait, but he delivered Madelaine's note into Jenkins’ hands with the request it reach the earl urgently. Jenkins summoned Lewis, a young footman, Jenkins dispatched him with the note to Lord Wroxham's rooms in Half Moon Street where the earl had been invited to join a select card party. On his first excursion since his injury, Edward had been persuaded by the newly affianced Wroxham to make a fourth for whist at his rooms. The card game had been used as an excuse by Wroxham to avoid accompanying his fiancée to a very boring musical evening where the soprano Madame Betrolli was the main attraction.

  “Wroxham, I heard the Weathingstons were attending that recital. Shouldn’t you be doing the pretty?” August Shoreham asked as he dealt out the cards.

  “I told them I had already arranged this card evening, before they invited me, so I was excused. Have you ever heard Madame Betrolli sing?”

  The others demurred.

  “Sounds like a cat being strangled very slowly, for a very long time. Once was enough. Besides Caroline is a very pleasant girl and she understands I don’t like opera,” Wroxham declared.

  “Under the cat’s paw, Wroxham, things will change once you have plighted your troth.” Shoreham teased.

  “Miss Weathingston is not like that at all. I am certain she will make me very happy.”

  If her main attraction was an extremely well stuffed dowry, Wroxham was content with the arrangement. Never having been one in the petticoat line himself, his reaction to Madelaine at Claudette's had not unsettled him much.

  His marriage would please his parents and Lord and Lady Weathingston, Miss Caroline Weathingston, and not least of all, his banker. Madelaine had been to him more on the lines of a picturesque view, something that gave him pleasure to behold but no great desire to possess. When Lewis arrived with Madelaine's note, the evening was faring well. Wroxham had ordered in a handsome supper which had been wholeheartedly devoured, by the party together with a number of well-aged bottles, which had been brought up from his country seat.

  Wroxham's friends, August Shoreham and Sir Robert Dickinson proved good company and reasonable whist players. Wroxham was not a hardened gambler, so a half guinea stake a round was all they played for. The gentlemen were by this time discussing a bottle of vintage port together with some excellent cigars while playing a few desultory hands. Edward whose forehead still showed livid purple bruising had discarded the bandage, but was otherwise in good spirits. They had changed partners during the game, but Edward had come out a little ahead of the others, with a small pile of guineas at his hand. He opened the note, glanced at it and slipped Lewis a coin for his trouble.

  Dear Sir

  May I express the hope that you are now recuperating from your injuries satisfactorily. I apologize for intruding myself upon you, but today M. Vallon was passing through Mayfair when he caught sight of one of your assailants. The footpad with the red hair, whom he reports has shaved his beard, is now dressing in dark clothes similar to those of a clerk of business. Henri followed the man and believes he is now be residing in a lodging house at 72, Elystan Street. I trust that this information may be of use to you in bringing those criminals to justice.

  I remain your servant

  Madelaine Deschamps

  Shoreham continuing the evening's banter exclaimed "A billet-doux! Who's the ladybird, Chalcombe?"

  "Not that kind of note, unfortunately!" replied Chalcombe.

  "Doing it too strong! Clearly a lady's hand, come clean and tell all!" ordered Sir Robert, whose glass had perhaps been the most frequently replenished.

  "Well it is from a lady, but it's only about one of the men who cracked my head open for me, who has been spotted."

  "Would that be the young lady who assisted you home?" Shoreham enquired.

  Edward nodded and Shoreham went on "I hear she was a very pretty piece, a true cut diamond."

  "No exaggeration in that, Shoreham. Perfection incarnate!"

  "So... you’re slow off the mark there, old boy!"

  "She was very much a lady, Shoreham, not to be thought of!"

  "I saw a true diamond myself today, " Wroxham said remembering, "Collecting Caroline from Claudette's her modiste in Mayfair. Not the usual style at all, pale blonde hair, green eyes, very haughty carriage, quite distracted me!"

  "You going to follow up Wroxham, not afraid Caroline will cry off?" teased Sir Robert.

  "Out of my league and pocket, that one, I fear!"

  "Well, I might just try my luck, I have tired of Belle, and she is fast becoming a harpy. Bad enough havi
ng been married to one without one's mistress being one!" said the baronet.

  The gentlemen laughed at his jest but Edward was thoughtful, Julian had described Madelaine as fair-haired and she certainly had green eyes. He feared the coincidence was too unlikely and that Sir Robert was going to pursue the girl, he had decided to offer marriage to. Topping up Sir Robert's glass, he hoped enough alcohol would help that gentleman forget Wroxham's story. He shuddered at the thought of Madelaine in the arms of the aging roué that was Sir Robert Dickinson. An unscrupulous gentleman for all his charm, if even half the gossip he had heard was true.

  He had best hurry, for the lady's favours were much in demand and he had no intention of being queered by Sir Robert. The party broke up naturally around midnight and Edward proceeded home in his carriage, having first shown the note to his new footman, one Timothy Griggs, Charlie's burly and very large nephew.

  Chapter Six – Impasse

  Edward retired for the night instructing his mystified valet to wake him at a most ungodly hour. Master Edward was not the sort to be involved in duels, so why was he rising before dawn, Plovett wondered. He had been with the family far too long to question the request and knew he would never find a more easy-going master. He said nothing to Jenkins or the other servants, feeling it beneath his station to confide in the other staff.

  It was still dark when the hackney carriage pulled up in Grosvenor Square; Edward warmly muffled up to his eyes and with his Beaver pulled down over his bruised forehead, climbed quietly aboard together with young Timothy. Charlie and another brawny individual both equally warmly wrapped sat upon the box, and they drove off silently to Elystan Street. They entered the house without knocking, the front door being unlocked and were about to search the premises for Stacks, when the landlady set up a scream at being confronted by four large men when clad only in her peignoire and lace cap. She was unceremoniously silenced by Charlie's hand being placed forcibly over her mouth.