CHAPTER FIFTY

Marie

MARIE AND HARRIET stood at the tower window. Elanor was seated nearby. They watched Constable Trickett emerge from the house and point his three men towards the tip of the old oak that rose above the tree line. A stable hand arrived at the front steps with spades and together they all moved towards the forest.

‘I always wondered if her body was there amongst the flowers,’ said the maid. ‘And once they’re finished digging, then the fire?’

‘The fire will come,’ said Marie, twisting a diamond ring around her finger. It was a comfortable weight although the size of the stone would take some adjusting to as it kept catching on her skirt.

Elanor said nothing.

‘Metal parts left in the ballroom amongst the ashes?’ asked Harriet.

Marie nodded. It would be a shame for it all to burn but there was no other option. ‘If Philidor thinks Elanor still exists, he will come for her. He’s obsessed.’

‘I know. But I cannot think what this must mean for you. You wanted her for yourself.’

Such a clever girl Harriet had proven to be. ‘A trying circum- stance, but nevertheless the outcome has proved favourable in many respects. And you, Harriet! You who had to put up with the attention of the valet and serve the imbecile Philidor – you have come through this ordeal admirably. All these men were scheming and trying to use us as pawns in their games of power. Have I been any different, though?’ She paused. ‘I too have used what I have to survive, as a wiser head than mine once told me to do. But I would like to think, if my hand had not been forced, things may have transpired differently.’

‘It is incredible that you planned it all without knowing if it would work, and in so many ways could go wrong.’ There was respect in Harriet’s voice. Marie pursed her lips and nodded slightly. It was pleasing someone had acknowledged her skills in this game of deception, betrayal, power and dual identities.

But still she had something to admit. ‘It did go wrong in one respect. I thought Cavendish had murdered Elanor, but his father was to blame.’

‘It wasn’t him?’ A look of disbelief crossed Harriet’s face, much like her own had probably assumed when she found out.

‘Last night he told me that his father accidentally shot her in the forest, thinking she was an intruder. And the old valet and the young Cavendish had to cover it up,’ Marie said with sadness. For it was a tragedy and one that changed the young Cavendish’s life irrevocably.

‘I feel remorse now, for telling Trickett as we agreed,’ said Harriet. Her regret was evident in her eyes, which brimmed with tears.

Marie pressed her hand before releasing it. ‘The truth needed to come out. It was the only way.’ It was, although the circumstances were unfortunate.

‘All those years of my parents not knowing – I mean, they knew in their hearts she was dead, for she wouldn’t have stolen any silver or run away. And they suspected that the Cavendish family were involved. I wish they could have known what really happened.’ The tears fell unhindered and Marie let them go without comment. Harriet was entitled to grieve, not just for herself but for her parents as well. Part of it was relief at finally getting an answer to all the questions she must have lived with as well.

‘You suspected Cavendish, as did I. It was only natural to do so.’

She turned to Marie, her voice raised in emotion. ‘I blamed him, especially after I was sent underground to dust the pieces in the museum one time, that’s when I heard him in Elanor’s cavern. I had to search for the key – hanging up in the scullery it was, forgotten about, for he never used it. Came and went through his own secret passage, I assumed. But I didn’t have anyone to confide in, until you came.’ She wiped the tears away and took a deep breath to settle herself.

‘It has certainly proved a most enlightening affair. But now you must go.’ Marie set her face in resolution. It would not benefit to let feelings gather momentum and run awry.

‘Where?’ Harriet smoothed her hair down and brushed out her skirt. Marie saw that the storm of emotion had passed and she was ready for the next course of action. Very good.

‘My shop in Paris. You can stay there for the time being. Take the money that Cavendish brought to Baker Street for Elanor’s release – he gave it up willingly, and I’m sure would be happy for you to have it now. My husband will not trouble you, as he cares nothing for me or the business. Besides, he returned to his own village long ago.’ Marie was giving her a chance to escape. To start a new life. She hoped Harriet would take it.

‘Your husband will agree to this?’

‘He will agree to anything I propose as long as he has money, which I will send him once I sell these.’ She stroked the fine gold chain she now wore around her neck that held Pinetti’s collection of beautiful rings. She could keep them for sentimental value, but what practical use was sentiment?

‘And what of your plans then?’

Yes, the future. How swiftly it arrived. ‘I will take Antoinette with me,’ said Marie. ‘She is not the same as Elanor, but she is … enough. I can open my own show, then pay for my sons to finish their studies and have them join me in the business if they desire.’ How wonderful that their future was now assured, and not dependant upon her stupid husband. She smiled. Her husband would be furious that she, and now her sons, were not under his power anymore.

‘What of the valet?’ said the maid with hesitation.

‘Who knows? Forget what has gone before. You can have a fresh start.’

‘Yes,’ said the maid reluctantly, looking at Marie as if she wanted to ask more. ‘I’m ready, but how to move Elanor when —’

Marie pressed the fingertip on Elanor’s right hand, letting herself imagine once more, as Elanor stood up, that the wax automaton had really come to life. It was so very hard to say goodbye to her but her consuming need to seek solace and company in her creations was over. ‘She can walk, if you hold her hand steady enough.’ Harriet met Marie’s eyes, and the look that passed between them held within it a mutual understanding.

Harriet then took Elanor’s right hand firmly in her own, and they walked to the tower door. ‘And what about His Grace? What will happen to him?’

‘He has taken to his bed, and I have just sent for his physician.

I think, perhaps, this swoon will be his last.’ ‘Won’t he ask for the valet?’

‘It’s all a dream to him now, including Elanor.’ It seemed Cavendish, like herself in the past, may still be caught between fancies and reality.

‘But I must thank you properly for your assistance. In reading all the mail, advising me of the contents – especially Philidor’s correspondence with Dr Gribble – planting the key to Elanor’s cavern in my workshop. I only have one question – why did you keep moving the portrait of the duke’s father?’

Harriet looked at Marie steadily. ‘I never touched that portrait. Why would I?’

They gazed at each other for a moment.

‘Strange indeed,’ said Marie.

‘And you smelling those flowers stranger still.’

‘I do not know what to make of either abnormality. Perhaps the spirit of Elanor aided us to become three women working to combat the three gentlemen. But I think it best if we pry no further.’

Marie locked the tower door and followed Harriet and Elanor as they descended the stairs. She watched as they exited by the back door, passed the well in the courtyard and stepped into the waiting carriage.

As it pulled away, Marie reflected on her most recent idea for a head to add to her Chamber of Horrors. It would be based on the death mask of the valet, who Wednesday night, before she saw to Philidor and Cavendish, had drowned in the well she was now leaning against. He had arranged to meet her there to pass over the will for her to copy but that was not his only intent. For he had then tried to press himself upon her in such a way that he overbalanced and fell. The finality of his demise was unfortunate, but his illusion he could ravish her without resistance was, in the end, the real killer. She would ensure his body was found in due course.

She sniffed the broken lavender heads she had picked earlier from the garden. Yes, it may not have been dangerous for the valet to betray a madman or a magician, but trying to best this madame in a game of wits had proved lethal. This daughter of an executioner would, after much running, now finally make her living from death.

It was time to send for the guillotine.