"Well," Mélanie said. "I suppose it's a sort of relief that I wasn't wrong to sense that Raimundo was holding something back. Though I certainly didn't guess what."
"Nor did I." Raoul shook his head. "I seem to be slipping."
They were all gathered in the Berkeley Square library, still in their Vauxhall finery, sharing whisky and updates. "Raimundo may not be an agent, but he's adept at keeping secrets," Malcolm said. "His having been Annabel's lover explains why he called on Annabel when he was in London. It explains the letter she kept. It's understandable he didn't tell us. He struck me as the sort who'd be very careful of a lady's reputation. It doesn't seem his having been Annabel's lover would have anything to do with the attack. I suppose it could give him a motive to have attacked her if the affair had ended badly or if she knew secrets about him, but that doesn't fit with her keeping the letter or with the sort of relationship Josefina seems to have thought they had. And we still have the fact that he discovered Annabel after the attack along with Gregory, which just logistically makes it very challenging for him to have been the attacker. But his showing up on his former lover's doorstep almost the moment she was attacked does raise questions."
"His being Annabel's lover doesn't rule out his being the Goshawk," Harry said.
"No," Malcolm agreed. "If he was, the affair could explain how Annabel knew the Goshawk's identity."
"Though it's a bit harder to forgive Raimundo's being silent about it if he is, once he knew the Goshawk was connected to the attack on Mrs. Larimer," Raoul said.
"And it now seems almost certain that Kitty's source was right and Annabel did know the Goshawk." Malcolm frowned.
"I know," Harry said. "I've been going over every Tom and Tommy and Thomas and Tomás I knew in any way in the Peninsula. None of them seems an obvious fit."
"It couldn't be Tommy Belmont, could it?" Cordelia asked.
"That might explain Carfax's turning on the Goshawk," Malcolm said, "but Tommy was in Britain for a whole summer the Goshawk was active."
"There's Tommy Walgrave," Harry said. "He's innocuous enough that I wasn't entirely aware of where he was, when. But there have to be any number of Spanish and Portuguese possibilities." He looked at Raoul.
"Dozens," Raoul said. "Tomás is as common a name as Thomas. Don Tomás San Mateo might be a possibility. He went back and forth between two different guerrillero groups which he could have used as cover for his work. I knew a very able scout named Tomás Vargas who certainly had the wit for it, but I doubt he could have got away enough in secret to carry out the missions. And we don't know for a certainty Tom even refers to the given name. It could have been someone with the surname Tompkins or San Tomás or Thompson. And it could certainly be someone none of us ever met. It could also have been some sort of code name. So it doesn't rule out anyone not named Tom or Tomás or Tompkins or any of the alternatives."
Laura leaned against the sofa arm, Clara in the curve of one arm, chin cupped in her other hand. "Will couldn't have been the Goshawk. He was in India when the Goshawk was active. But, thanks to him, we know Carfax was interested in Diego Martinez's murder as recently as Waterloo."
"And, unlike Cuthbertson, I'm not nearly as ready to assume Carfax wouldn't have tried to have Annabel Larimer killed if he thought she was in his way," Malcolm said.
"Because you think Carfax had Martinez killed?" Harry asked.
"If Carfax knew Martinez was selling information to the French I don't doubt he might have had him killed," Malcolm said. "He'd have seen it as an efficient way to end a leak."
"Yes, you made it clear you thought any spymaster would think that way," Raoul murmured.
"But Harry and Annabel Larimer were getting information from Martinez," Cordelia said.
"The perils of multiple intelligence branches," Raoul said. "We know Carfax knew about Annabel and Martinez by Waterloo. We don't know that he knew it when Martinez was killed."
"Or he might have known and not been happy I was running a rogue operation," Harry said.
"But what about the man Raoul overheard plotting with Martinez about assassinating the Goshawk?" Cordelia said. "Wasn't he British?"
"He seemed to be," Raoul said. "Which doesn't prove he was a British agent." His whisky glass sparked in the light as he turned it between his hands. "Just as I did at the time, I keep coming back to three options, all of which puzzle me. That the British were trying to have the Goshawk killed, which means they were turning on someone who was an ally. And that Martinez was a triple. If the guerrilleros were trying to get rid of the Goshawk, the scenario raises the same questions. Or someone on the French side was trying to get rid of the Goshawk, making use of an agent I was running but without telling me."
"Martinez left a coded message for Annabel the night he was killed," Harry said. "That could support that he was a triple working for the British. But if Annabel knew and was working with him, you'd think she'd have checked the necklace box for a message. Not to mention that she didn't say anything to me. And the same would apply if Annabel were actually working for the French and working with Martinez that way."
"What if Martinez was a triple working for the British, but Annabel didn't know it?" Mélanie said. "What if they'd just turned him? And the message to Annabel was some kind of warning? Though one has to wonder why he didn't simply tell her in person that night."
Archie shifted Francesca in the curve of his arm. He and Frances had left the babies in Berkeley Square during their Vauxhall excursion. "Perhaps Martinez had to hide something quickly that night and made use of the box for Mrs. Larimer's necklace, assuming he could retrieve it later."
"Good theory," Harry said. "But whatever was in that paper, it seems to have got Annabel asking questions about the Goshawk and who knew she'd been an agent in Spain."
Malcolm took a drink of whisky. "Martinez could have hidden the paper after the talk Raoul overheard about assassinating the Goshawk. In which case, it could be orders involving the assassination."
"From the British or French?" Frances said.
"Either. I'm far from certain Carfax wouldn't have ordered the Goshawk's assassination. What if Carfax set up the Goshawk? What if he thought the Goshawk had become too powerful a symbol and he couldn't control him anymore?"
"But what would Carfax have been afraid of the Goshawk's doing?" Mélanie asked. "There were already plenty of Spaniards working for a Spain different from the one Carfax wanted. The Goshawk could fire the popular imagination, but it's hard to see his—or her—being able to stand up to the Bourbons with the British army behind them. A lot of very committed Spaniards couldn't do that."
"True," Malcolm said. "But I don't think David, Simon, Oliver, and I were much of a threat at Oxford a decade ago dreaming of remaking the world. And our dreams bothered Carfax enough that he recruited Oliver to spy on us."
"For an astute man, Carfax is inclined to overestimate the power of anyone he sees as a Radical," Raoul agreed. "One could say it was flattering, save that it's damnably uncomfortable. Not to mention dangerous."
"There's the possibility that Carfax wanted the Goshawk killed so he could have someone else take his—or her—place," Mélanie said.
Harry took a drink of whisky, eyes narrowed, as though he were scouting terrain. "If Carfax was trying to have the Goshawk assassinated, then presumably he wasn't behind Martinez's murder, given that Martinez was being tasked with killing the Goshawk. Unless the whole thing was some sort of elaborate plot to entrap Martinez."
"I thought of that," Raoul said. "But if the point of asking Martinez to kill the Goshawk was just to set up a secret meeting so Martinez could be killed himself, one would think the man I followed—and lost—would have killed Martinez before he left."
Harry nodded. "And Carfax wanted Cuthbertston to find out what Annabel knew about Martinez's death. So either Carfax was behind it, or wanted to protect someone else who was behind it. Or he wanted to learn who was behind it, and the answer was of such moment he tasked an agent with it two years later, on the brink of a major battle."
Malcolm looked at Raoul. "Could Carfax have known you were there the night Martinez was killed?"
Raoul gave a wry smile. "Much as I pride myself on my ability to evade pursuit, it's always possible someone saw me that night. And that that person was an agent for Carfax. Particularly if the man I overheard talking to Martinez about killing the Goshawk, the man I later followed and lost, was working for Carfax. Which, given the case you've made, I admit is possible, though I still don't think it likely."
Malcolm took a drink of whisky. "If Carfax knew you were there and Carfax didn't have Martinez killed, he might think you were the killer."
"Given that my son wondered as much, and I'm not entirely sure my wife didn't"—Raoul cast a brief glance at Laura; Laura met his gaze without blinking—"I imagine Carfax's thoughts would have gone in that direction. But I'm not sure why those suspicions would have made Carfax determined to learn what Annabel Larimer knew, two years later. Given the exigencies of the war, I moved on from the question of who killed Martinez, and why, within a few months, and Martinez was my agent. I certainly didn't have time to dwell on his murder in the weeks before Waterloo. I can't work out why Carfax was."
"Suppose we're looking at it backwards," Cordelia said. "Suppose Carfax wasn't trying to learn who killed Martinez, he was trying to protect whoever did kill him. Or who he thought killed him."
"It's a good thought," Harry said. "But just as it's hard to see what Annabel would have to fear now if she was the one who killed Martinez, it's difficult to see what another of Carfax's agents would have had to fear."
"Is anyone in Martinez's family powerful in Spain now?" Laura asked.
"Not particularly," Raoul said. "He has a cousin who's a minor clerk in the foreign ministry."
"Whether or not the message hidden in the necklace box was intended for Annabel, presumably she decoded it and it prompted her to seek me out," Harry said. "Asking questions about the Goshawk, and who knew about her past in Spain."
"And those same worries made her write to her sister about looking after the children if anything happened to her," Mélanie said. "Presumably she was afraid of whoever killed Martinez or whoever was trying to kill the Goshawk. Or both."
"And yet she didn't feel able to tell me." Harry's voice had an edge like iron.
"Is there any chance you could find the coded letter?" Cordelia asked.
"We searched the house carefully," Mélanie said, "but we can look again."
"Annabel had good instincts," Harry said. "And I trained her to memorize sensitive information and burn it. I doubt we'll find anything."
Malcolm got up and picked up the decanter to refill the whiskies. "There's something we're missing. Something that made Martinez's murder relevant at Waterloo and makes it still relevant now. Which may have to do with whoever wanted him to kill the Goshawk. And why. Even if Carfax had Martinez killed and Annabel attacked, I admit it's hard to see why he'd have suddenly decided she was a threat now."
Mélanie looked up at Malcolm as he refilled her glass. "Something else happened tonight. I saw Julien. After you went to talk to Gisèle."
"Christ." Malcolm's fingers tightened on the etched crystal. "Though I suppose it's a wonder he hasn't turned up sooner, with everything that's been going on."
Mélanie kept her gaze steady on her husband as the candlelight bounced off the cut glass. There were always layers to talking about Julien. "Apparently he knows Kitty."
"He—" Malcolm started to laugh.
"Darling?"
"Well, it's hard to think of what other response is appropriate." Malcolm refilled Laura's glass. "Where did he meet her?"
"In the Peninsula, I think. As so often, Julien wasn't specific. But he knows you worked with Kitty. He knows she's in Britain and that she called on us today, and we left Berkeley Square with her. He didn't, rather to my surprise, know about the attack on Annabel Larimer. But he said—" Mélanie took a sip of whisky. The jolt of fire did nothing to steady her nerves. "He said Kitty called on Carfax yesterday."
"She—" Malcolm's gaze locked on her own.
"Julien could be lying," Mélanie said. "But—"
"But it's difficult to see why." Malcolm refilled Raoul's glass, as though willing his fingers to be steady. "Of course, we don't know what his endgame is, as usual. But St. Juste actually hasn't lied to us that much."
"That we know of," Mélanie said.
Malcolm refilled his own glass and took a measured sip. "If Kitty is working with Carfax—"
"Meeting him doesn't mean she's working with him," Raoul said in a quiet voice.
"No, but she didn't tell me about it last night or today."
"She probably knew how you'd react, darling," Mélanie said.
"Because it makes me distrust her."
"Precisely."
Malcolm returned the decanter to the drinks table and clunked it down. "With reason."
"Possibly. We don't know enough."
"We know some things." Malcolm returned to the settee where he'd been sitting beside Mélanie. "We know Kitty worked for Carfax. I don't know why I assumed she stopped."
"Because she's working against Carfax's interests in Spain now?" Mélanie said.
"Or that's what she told me." Malcolm took a swallow of whisky. "Kitty and I disagreed on tactics. But I thought we both wanted a different Spain. On the other hand, that didn't stop me from working for Carfax for a very long time."
"You had a certain loyalty to Carfax," Mélanie said. "Do you think Kitty does?"
"Kitty likes to win. And she's willing to make compromises to get there. Carfax might be one of those compromises."
"Did Julien St. Juste work with Mrs. Ashford?" Cordelia asked.
"I don't know," Mélanie replied. "With Julien it can be difficult to differentiate between allies and enemies. But he seemed to know her reasonably well." Julien's warning about Kitty echoed in her head, but she couldn't possibly give voice to it. Not even with Malcolm suspecting Kitty. Perhaps especially not with Malcolm suspecting Kitty.
"Mrs. Ashford is determined to find the Goshawk, from what you say," Harry said. "So if she were working for Carfax, that would seem to prove Carfax didn't have Annabel Larimer attacked to keep her from talking to Mrs. Ashford about the Goshawk."
"A good point," Malcolm said. "But Carfax could be the one who set Kitty looking for the Goshawk. Damn it, Carfax could be Kitty's trusted source, who told her Annabel had information about the Goshawk. Kitty gave me a story about an agent in the Argentine, working under an alias, who was her source, but I'm not at all sure I believe her. And as you say, none of it explains who attacked Annabel. Or why."
"According to Palmerston, Kitty came upon him and Raimundo in the park after Raoul left," Mélanie said. "I doubt that was coincidence."
"No," Malcolm agreed. "Kitty must have wanted to talk to Raimundo away from us. Palmerston told you he thought there was more to Raimundo than met the eye. That seems to be everyone's impression. Except Kitty. Which makes me strongly inclined to think Kitty wasn't telling us everything about her past with Raimundo O'Roarke. Yet another reason to talk with him."
Cordelia looked at Mélanie. "Did you have a sense there was more Palmerston wasn't telling us about his own acquaintance with Annabel Larimer? More than simply her being a war widow who got her pension through the war office?"
"Yes," Mélanie said. "Of course knowing Palmerston, it's entirely possible they had a romantic entanglement that has nothing to do with the rest of the mystery. But it would be worth talking to Palmerston again. When Emily isn't present."
Archie stretched his bad leg out in front of him. "The League's interest in Mrs. Larimer's parentage is interesting. The obvious assumption is that her father is a League member. Or it could be someone the League want a hold over."
"Which faction in the League?" Laura asked.
"An excellent question," Archie said. "I never thought of Reggie Pomfret as particularly acute, but I'm intrigued by his sense that an outsider is pulling the strings in the League."
"Is that even possible?" Frances asked.
"I wouldn't have thought so." Archie took a drink of whisky. "But with the League holding everything so close, in a way it would be easier for an outsider to make inroads. Many of the rank-and-file, like Pomfret, wouldn't even know."
"Who?" Laura tucked the blankets closer about Clara. "Who on the outside could get past Beverston and Glenister and the other leaders?"
"Glenister never took the League that seriously," Archie said. "He was powerful because he and Alistair had been cronies from their school days and started the League together. But Beverston was always engaged in political maneuvering in the League, as he was maneuvering in Parliament. Difficult to imagine his allowing someone else to move in."
"What if it was someone who knew something to his disadvantage?" Cordelia asked.
"A League member being blackmailed?" Archie gave a wry smile. "There's a poetic justice in that, given how much they employ blackmail themselves. But they tend to be very careful. Especially men like Beverston."
"Beverston's obviously still in a position of power, from what Gelly reports," Malcolm said.
"He could have formed an alliance with this outsider Pomfret suspects is pulling strings," Archie said. "Or Pomfret could be wrong."
"And then there are the people who attacked you tonight," Cordelia said, looking from Mélanie to Malcolm. "Presumably hired by whoever attacked Annabel Larimer? The League?"
"As Gelly said, the League's interest in Annabel's parentage is difficult to reconcile with that," Malcolm said. "If Annabel did know something, they'd have wanted to discover what it was. If she didn't, she wasn't a threat. If she was a possible pawn because of whoever her father is, they'd need her alive."
"The attack sounds a bit heavy-handed for Carfax," Harry said.
"And I'd like to think he'd know such tactics would only intrigue Mel and me, instead of warning us off," Malcolm said.
"Unless that's what he was trying to do," Mélanie suggested.
Malcolm's eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't put anything past him. But it's not quite the style he's employed in the past. Of course, Carfax might quite like to try something different to shake us up. I'm going to need to talk to Kitty. And to Carfax, presumably."
They continued in this vein for some time, but in the end the party broke up with more questions than theories. Fanny and Archie went home with the twins secure in their baskets. Harry and Cordelia were spending the night, as Livia and Drusilla had spent the evening in Berkeley Square and were asleep in the nursery. Malcolm, Mélanie, Harry, Cordelia, Raoul, and Laura were in the hall about to take candles and go upstairs, when the bell rang.
"Fanny and Archie must have forgot something." Mélanie moved to the library, looking for a dropped toy or blanket.
Malcolm had moved to open the door. She heard the creak of the hinges and then an indrawn breath from Cordelia or Laura. Mélanie turned round to see her husband standing stock-still. Beyond him, she saw a glossy black silk hat, sleek dark hair, and a keen gaze, familiar but not glimpsed for some time. Lord Glenister. Malcolm's godfather. Alistair Rannoch's best friend. One of the founders of the Elsinore League.
"Malcolm." Surprise shot through Glenister's voice. Which might be odd, given that they were in Malcolm's house, save that of course Glenister wouldn't have been expecting Malcolm to open the door himself.
"We sent the servants to bed hours ago," Malcolm said, stepping back and holding the door to admit Glenister to the hall.
"You—"
"We do things a bit differently now."
Glenister stepped into the hall and removed his hat. He nodded to Mélanie, Laura, and Cordelia, and then to Raoul and Harry, quite as if they were meeting conventionally in a drawing room or ballroom and weren't all on opposite sides in an unacknowledged conflict that was becoming more and more open. "I seem to have interrupted a party."
"We've just returned from Vauxhall," Mélanie said. "The Davenports are staying with us."
"I'm sorry," Glenister said. "I know it's late. In truth, I thought it might be easier to call late. I didn't care to be seen."
"Yes, calling on us will hardly enhance your reputation," Malcolm said. "In society or politics."
"That's not what I meant." Glenister stopped and regarded Malcolm, hat in his hands. Elegantly dressed, with the same insouciant bearing as always, yet suddenly he resembled a schoolboy asking for a favor. "I need your help, Malcolm."