Julia Justiss - The Rake To Redeem Her

She looked him up and down, her expression wary. ‘I warned her not to trust you. Oh, I don’t doubt you’ll help her, all right—to do what you want her to. Just like that worthless cousin of hers.’

Remembering madame ’s bent and swollen fingers, Will felt a surge of dislike. If he ever encountered Thierry St Arnaud, he’d force the man to test his strength against a more fitting adversary. ‘He intimidated her, didn’t he?’

‘Bastard.’ The maid spat on cobblestones. ‘I only saw him strike her twice, but she almost always had bruises. I’ll not hurt her more by telling you anything.’

‘I appreciate your loyalty. But whatever you can tell me—about her relationship with St Arnaud or my cousin—will help me protect her on the journey. I can do a better job if I’m aware of potential threats before they happen. If I know who’s been watching her, and why.’

Her expression clouded, telling Will she worried about her mistress, too. ‘Herr Ransleigh, your cousin, was an honourable man,’ she said after a moment. ‘You promise to keep her safe?’

‘I promise.’ To his surprise, Will found he meant it.

Clara studied him, obviously still reluctant.

‘You want her to stay safe, too, don’t you?’ he coaxed. ‘How about I tell you what I know and you just confirm it?’

After considering another moment, the maid nodded.

‘You’ve been with your mistress more than a year. She engaged you when she first arrived in Vienna—September 1814, wasn’t it?’

Clara nodded.

‘That last night, before her cousin fled the city, he … hurt her.’

Tears came to the girl’s eyes. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

‘Badly?’ Will pressed, keeping a tight rein over his rising temper, almost certain now he knew what she would tell him.

‘She was unconscious when I found her. Her ribs broken for sure, and her arm and hand bent and twisted. Didn’t come back to herself for more than a day, and for the first month, I wasn’t sure she would survive. Bastard!’ the maid burst out again. ‘Blaming her for the failure of his foolish plan! Or maybe just taking it out on her that it failed. He was that kind.’

‘You took her from the hotel to rooms at a boarding house and nursed her. Then, once she’d recovered sufficiently, you moved her to the lodgings here,’ Will summed up the trail his search had taken him on.

‘By then, she said she was recovered enough to work. I’d sold jewels for her those first few months, until her bad hand healed enough for her to use the fingers. She started doing embroidery then.’

‘And there were watchers, each place you stayed with her?’

‘I guess there were, though I didn’t notice them until she pointed them out after she got better. I was frightened, but what could they want with her? After a few months, I got used to them hanging about.’

‘Viennese lads, they were.’

‘Yes. I spoke to some of them, trying to see if I could find out anything, but they seemed to know only that a local man hired them. I’m certain someone more important was behind it, but I don’t know who.’

Will filed that observation away. ‘Why is she so insistent on returning to Paris?’

‘Her family’s there, I expect. She never spoke about herself, nor was she the sort who thought only of her own comfort. Waiting for her at the dressmakers or at those grand balls, I heard other maids talking about their ladies. Madame wasn’t like most of them, always difficult and demanding. She was kind. She noticed people and their troubles.’

Her eyes far away, Clara smiled. ‘One night, Klaus the footman had a terrible head cold, hardly able to breathe, poor man. Madame only passed by him in the hall on her way to a reception, but first thing the next morning, she had me fetch herbs and made him a tisane. Not that she made a great fuss about doing so, playing Lady Bountiful. No, she just turned it over to the butler and told him to make sure Klaus drank it.’

‘Did you ever wonder why she’d not brought her own maid to Vienna?’

Clara shrugged. ‘Maybe the woman didn’t want to travel so far. Maybe she couldn’t afford to bring her. I don’t think she had any coin of her own. St Arnaud paid my wages, all the bills for jewels, gowns and the household expenses, but he gave her no pin money at all. She didn’t have even a few schillings to buy ices when we were out.’

So, as she’d claimed, Will noted, madame had been entirely dependent on St Arnaud. ‘She never spoke of any other relations?’

‘No. But if they were all like St Arnaud, I understand why she wouldn’t.’ The maid stopped abruptly, wrinkling her brow. ‘There was one person she mentioned. Several times, when I’d given her laudanum for the pain after St Arnaud had struck her, she murmured a name as she dozed. Philippe.’

Surprise and something barbed and sharp stung him in the gut. Impatiently he dismissed it. ‘Husband … brother … lover?’

‘Not her husband—St Arnaud said he’d died in the wars. I did once ask her who “Philippe” was, but she just smiled and made no answer, and I didn’t want to press. She sounded … longing. Maybe he’s someone she wanted to marry, that her cousin had refused; I can see him sending away anyone he didn’t think grand enough for the St Arnauds. Maybe St Arnaud promised if she helped him in Vienna, he would let her marry the man. I know he had some sort of power to force her to do his will.’

For some reason he’d rather not examine, Will didn’t like the idea of Madame Lefevre pining for a Parisian lover. Shaking his head to rid himself of the image, he said, ‘ Madame ’s dependence on St Arnaud for food, clothing, housing and position would have been enough to coerce her co-operation.’

‘No, it was more than that,’ Clara insisted. ‘Not that she didn’t appreciate fine silks and pretty gems—who would not? But when she had to, she sold them without any sign of regret. She seemed quite content to live simply, not missing in the least the grand society for whom she used to play hostess. All she spoke about was earning enough coin to return to Paris.’

Not wishing to hear any more speculation about the mysterious “Philippe”, Will changed direction. ‘She’s had no contact with St Arnaud since the night of the attack, then?’

The maid shuddered. ‘Better that he believe she died of her injuries. She came close enough.’

‘St Arnaud emigrated to the Caribbean afterwards.’

‘That, I can’t say. I only know he left Vienna that night. If there’s any justice in the world, someone somewhere caught him and he’s rotting in prison.’

Clara looked up, meeting his gaze squarely. ‘If God has any mercy, once she’s done what you want, you’ll let her go back to Paris. To this Philippe, whoever he is. After all she’s suffered, losing her husband, enduring St Arnaud’s abuse, she deserves some happiness.’

Will wasn’t about to assure the maid he’d send madame back—to Paris or her ‘Philippe’—until he’d finished with her. And resolved what had already flared between them.

Instead, he pulled out a coin. ‘Thank you, Clara. I appreciate—’

‘No need for that,’ the maid interrupted, waving the money away. ‘Use it to keep her safe. You will watch out for her, won’t you? I know if someone wished her ill, they could have moved against her any time this last year. But still … I worry. She’s such a gentle soul, too innocent for this world, perhaps.’

Will remembered the woman in the garden, quietly picking spent blooms from her flowers while a stranger decided whether or not to wring her neck. She was more resigned than gentle or innocent, he thought. As if life had treated her so harshly, she simply accepted evil and injustice, feeling there was little she could do to protect herself from it.