Chapter Nineteen
Lord Bond strolled down the sidewalk swinging his cane as if he were without a care in the world. When he reached the steps of the Metropole, he stood to take a pinch of snuff. The Swedish gentleman who had followed them from Stralsund was no longer in sight, since he had doubled back through the market. He was one of two suspicious travellers Bond believed to be working for the French.
The message from Elise this morning had informed him of the arrival of someone with an American passport. He put away his snuff and mounted the steps. The doorman opened both glass panelled doors, and a footman came immediately for his cane and top hat.
“What may we do for you, mein Herr?” a third flunky asked.
“I will have directions to the lounge and a French language newspaper if you will.”
“Jawohl, mein Herr.”
Bond settled himself behind the newspaper in a seat beside the window, and told the waiter to bring him an absinth. There were fewer than a dozen guests in the room, if he were to count Elise, sitting at the writing desk opposite, as a visitor like himself. She had not paid any attention to him as he arrived, which may either have been careful security or a trace of her pique at him for giving her the false identity of Miss Smith, a children’s governess in the household of the English Consul to the Canton of Bern.
He had barely read two pages of the newspaper before the waiter brought him a note written on Metropole notepaper. Her message was short, “Second floor room 17. I will go first.” He watched her leave over the pages of his newspaper and waited five minutes before following her.
She met him at the top of the stairs. “Do you want to go first?”
“Who is it? Do we know him?”
“I haven’t seen him, but I suspect we do.”
“We’ll knock and go in together.”
A voice inside replied to his knock. “Yeah, come in.” The man himself scrambled to his feet when they entered. “Not you two again!”
Bond gave a slight bow. “Good morning, Gideon. Would you like a carriage ride in the fresh morning air?”
He plunked down again. “I’m not likely to take any gol-durned carriage ride with either of you.”
“Oh dear, still nursing a little animosity are we? If you will sit and listen, I will explain why you will agree to my suggestion.” He pointed Elise to an inner door and crossed the room himself to open the French doors to the balcony and look out.
“I’m here alone if that’s what you’re checking,” Paine said.
“All to the good, if true,” Bond replied, “but you are likely to have an eavesdropper―the Metropole is not secure.”
Elise returned from the other room. “There is a spy staying in Room 302, and he has collected at least two friends in the past two days.”
“How do you know he’s a spy?”
Bond closed the French doors and took a seat opposite him. “Because he is a Swedish national who has followed us here from Swedish Pomerania.”
“Swedish national don’t add up to a French spy.”
“Since France had an army of occupation there for four years and the Marshal of the army was rusticated for getting too chummy with the Swedes, I would suggest the French have long tentacles there.”
“So, what are you gonna do about it?”
“Ah, so we are back to the carriage ride.” Bond smiled. “We have the offer of a chateau for our deliberations. It is just three miles from the city and beside the river. We can go to and fro by road or water.”
“This is some continental Englishman?”
“Not at all. The family are German speaking Swiss with no connection to either America or Britain. The family is not in residence at present, so we would have the whole place to ourselves.”
“Without snoops,” Elise added.
“Can you agree to this, or is Ambassador Crawford coming?”
“The Ambassador won’t be coming, he has too much on his plate with the French. You really screwed things up with spreading rumours about the French loan.”
Bond raised his hands to show his palms. “So, who will be America’s commissioners, and where are they . . . ? Ah. Do not answer that, it will be more secure in the carriage. You are up for a carriage ride?”
Bond repeated his question when they were seated in an open landau with a team of four and on their way up Reichenbacher Strasse.
Paine looked about at the city before answering. “They are waiting for some of the members to catch up at Belfort . . . they are coming from Russia.”
“Would that be gentlemen from the preliminary peace discussions that were to be brokered by Tsar Alexander?”
“That the British government turned down . . . yes.”
“Ah well. Better luck next time.”
Bond was pleased; the chateau was readily accepted by all of them, although he didn’t want Elise to get any new ideas from the luxurious surroundings . . . Miss Smith’s position would serve her well here. When they had dropped Paine back at the Metropole, they discussed the chateau in detail as they rode to their lodgings with the British commissionaires.
“The only thing I didn’t like was how close the trees were to the chateau. It strikes me that a number of spies could hide there.”
“But a beautiful setting,” Elise said.
“Yes. I fancied you were looking at the ambience rather than the security.”
“I did both.”
“Hmm.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “You haven’t written a letter to Lady Bond since we have been here by any chance?”
“No. Why would I?”
“I wrote her about the return of those dresses and finery the two of you wore in Antwerp―they must be surrendered to an Admiralty prize court. She had the nerve to suggest I might know where yours were rather than she.”
Elise laughed. “She knows you too well, Bond. You cannot fool her.”
“I cannot imagine what you mean,” he said, glaring down at her. “She must have been in a poor mood when she replied to my letter. I would have thought she would have been ecstatic to read my words after such a long time.”
Elise shook her head. “What did you try to put over on her?”
“Nothing, of course.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “You really do not understand, do you?”
“What is there to understand? We are still married. My father has not won yet.”
“What did you write?”
“I assured her that should our marriage be annulled we could easily start again from proper banns and a church on land and say our vows again. She seemed to query the thought.”
“Good Lord, man. Why do you suppose we women consent to throw ourselves into matrimony? It cannot be from the wonderful creatures we tie ourselves to. We marry because we need security, we need a husband’s social standing and his fortune―although Lady Bond is self-sufficient, I dare say. We need a champion who will fight for us and protect us―who will always be there when we need him. What aspect of any of those propositions did your marriage to Lady Bond give her?”
“I was devoted to her . . .”
“You gave her nothing but deceit and heartache. Why would she want you back if she had the chance of escape?”
He stared aghast as the carriage jolted to a halt. Thoughts ran uncontrollably around in his brain. Where did such scandalous ideas come from? Had they been passed from his companion to Lady Bond like the poison of a plague while they were together in Antwerp? No wonder she now seemed so cool and distant. He must leave the Continent at the first opportunity and hurry to Scotland to charm her―even woo her again. She was lost, else.