Ashley Gardner - The Necklace Affair

"I located the necklace in France," he said.

"France?" My turn to be puzzled.

"In the possession of a minor aristocrat in the court of Louis XVIII. A minor aristocrat willing to give up the necklace for a fraction of its worth, because he was too ignorant to understand its value. According to his story, he bought the necklace from an Englishman in London three years ago and carried it back to France with him when the Bourbon king was restored to power."

My mind swam as I struggled to rearrange facts. "What Englishman? Clifford? Three years ago? He was certain?" But what then had Mrs. Dale thrown into the Thames?

"I had the necklace examined by a jeweler," Denis continued. "One of mine. He is the best in the business and quite reliable, I promise you. He proclaimed the diamonds real and the necklace de la Fontaine's. That means, Captain, that the stolen necklace you and Mr. Grenville have been chasing all over London is a copy, a paste replica. You have been led down the garden path."

"By whom? Clifford?"

"Assuredly, since he is the man who sold it to the Frenchman."

Bloody hell. No wonder Clifford had been so furious with Grenville and me for trying to find the necklace. Lady Clifford had made a fuss and gained the attention of Bow Street, but then Lord Clifford had done everything in his power to stop the investigation and deter Pomeroy. I wagered that Clifford didn't care two figs for how much we'd disturbed his household; he was only worried that we might reveal he'd been forced to sell his wife's jewels and humiliate him. Damn the man.

Denis opened a drawer, drew out the necklace, and laid it on a velvet cloth on top of his desk.

The diamonds glittered against the dark cloth, facets white and sharp blue in the candlelight. The center stone was the size of a robin's egg, perfectly cut from what I could see. The surrounding pieces, large diamonds encircled by smaller ones, were just as fine. I was no expert in jewels, but even the slowest person could see that this necklace was remarkable.

"It could be yours, Captain, if you wish it."

I lifted my eyes from it, entranced. "What on earth would I do with such a thing?"

"Sell it, give it to your lady, restore it to de la Fontaine… Whatever you like."

I sat back, my enchantment with the jewels gone. "For what price?"

"You are a resourceful man, Captain. I could use you, as I've told you before. Pledge yourself to me, and the necklace is yours." His voice held nothing, no emotion, his face, even less.

"You'd never believe I would agree to that, would you?" I asked.

"Not really." He nearly smiled, as close to amused as I'd ever seen him. "But I thought it worth a try." Denis closed the cloth over the magnificent diamonds and slid them back inside the drawer.

"That belongs to de la Fontaine," I said.

"De la Fontaine does not have the resources to buy the necklace back from me, nor does he have much to offer me in kind. He has cut off all ties to anyone who might be useful to me, preferring to live quietly in middleclass London with his daughter and grandchildren. He at least has found contentment with his family."

"Which is why you should return the necklace to him," I said in a hard voice. "He wishes to give it to his daughter."

Denis pressed his palms flat on his desk. "You have a strong sense of fairness, Captain, which is why I continually attempt to recruit you. I have not said I would not give the necklace to de la Fontaine. His son-in-law has a political bent. He hopes to win a seat in the House of Commons as soon as he can. Perhaps I can help him with such a thing."

Which meant that Denis would control that seat in Commons, and de la Fontaine's son-in-law would back any bill Denis wanted him to, vote the way Denis wanted him to-jump up and touch the ceiling whenever Denis wanted him to.

"For once, could you not do something out of benevolence?" I asked. "Imagine what such a gesture would do for your credibility."

Denis signaled to the pugilist at the door, who came forward. The interview was at an end. "I told you about the necklace as a courtesy, Captain. What I do with it is for me to decide. I imagine de la Fontaine will have it in the end."

"Leave him alone," I said with heat. "He has lost everything. Let him die in peace."

Denis's brows rose the slightest bit. "The Comte de la Fontaine used to be a great tyrant. He is one of the reasons the revolution in France began at all. He fled as soon as the tide began to turn, because he would have been among the first to the guillotine. The cry for his arrest had already gone out."

"He lost his only son, in our war."

"Fighting the republican bastards who drove him from his home," Denis said smoothly.

"Perhaps." I stood up, finding myself next to the pugilist who'd halted beside my chair. "But he's had to live thirty years in poverty in the damp of London, and is now a poor relation to his rather thick English son-in-law. That is enough of a punishment for any man, do you not think?"

Again, the look of near amusement. "As you say, Captain. I will keep you informed. Good day."

I knew Denis wanted me to be grateful to him for bothering to tell me about the necklace at all. He also wanted to rub my face in the fact that he'd used everything I'd done in my investigation to further his own wealth and power.

He might be right that de la Fontaine had possessed the same kind of arrogant ruthlessness that Denis himself had now. But the world turned, and it changed, and eventually all tyrants fell to become dust.

I wrote to de la Fontaine, telling him that Denis had the necklace, and suggested he apply to a magistrate I knew who was not in Denis's network. I then wrote to the magistrate in question, informing Sir Montague Harris of all that had happened, though I kept silent on the roles Mrs. Dale and Lady Clifford had played in the necklace's loss. After all, they'd only disposed of an inexpensive copy.

I had no way of knowing whether de la Fontaine would act against Denis or end up bargaining with him. Or perhaps drop the matter altogether.

I somehow did not think he'd choose the last recourse, and I was correct. Several days later, Sir Montague replied to me, saying that he'd spoken to de la Fontaine, but that de la Fontaine had not wanted to prosecute either Denis or Lord Clifford.

I received a letter from de la Fontaine himself soon after that. In it he thanked me for my assistance, told me that the necklace had been returned to him, and made a vague suggestion that perhaps we might share fine brandy again one day. Nothing more. Not until months later did I see his son-in-law stand for Parliament and be elected by a landslide. James Denis had won again.

For now, I was finished with the business. I tied the last two threads of the affair the day after I received de la Fontaine's letter. The first came in the form of a note from Lady Breckenridge, calling in her favor and bidding me to attend her at her home.

"Such a delight," Lady Breckenridge said. "Captain Lacey answers a summons. I hear from Grenville that you do not always comply."

She'd received me in her sitting room, she wearing a deep blue afternoon dress, its decolletage trimmed with light blue ribbon woven through the darker cloth. The ribbon matched the bandeau in her hair and brought out the blue of her eyes.

She did not invite me to sit down. We stood near the fireplace, the heat from the coals soaking into my bones. I leaned on the walking stick she'd given me, its handle warm under my palm.

"I can be abominably rude at times," I said.

Lady Breckenridge shrugged, her shrugs as smooth and practiced as Denis's own. "You do not rush to obey those who seek to command you. Your independence makes people puzzle over you."