The Last Duchess

Nothing is more endearing than a frank confession.

J. Bulcock, The Duties of a Lady’s Maid

‘Bring me the fetters,’ Madoc ordered. ‘But stay back, all of you. I will deal with this.’

He was only a valet, yet here in his master’s manufactory, he had a new kind of authority. The foreman and bearded manager made loud objections, but did as he asked.

‘Trust me, and I will get you out of here, Your Highness,’ he said, very softly, as he clipped the manacles around Pattern and Eleri’s wrists.

All the fight had gone out of the Grand Duchess, although thanks to Pattern’s expert pinning, her long hair remained hidden inside her cap, and her disguise, such as it was, seemed intact. She made only the faintest of protests.

With the intruders under lock and key, and the chains of their cuffs in his hands, Madoc turned back to his colleagues. ‘My master will wish to handle this in person. I will take these miscreants to him directly, so that he can deal with them as he sees fit.’

‘How your security was so easily breached by a couple of ragamuffins? That is a very good question.’ Madoc examined his torn jacket, and his fingers came away smeared with blood. He looked at it distastefully. Otherwise, he was as neat as ever, gleaming pale hair lying smooth against his head. ‘I’m sure my master will be most eager to hear your explanation for such a grievous blunder. I suggest you return to your office and set about constructing a full report.’ He looked round the scene of destruction with a weary eye. ‘And get this mess cleared up. We will need an inventory of the day’s losses.’

It all happened very quickly. Madoc hustled his two captives through the manufactory and out of the gates, straight into a waiting carriage. He directed the coachman to take them along the road into the cover of the forest, where it drew up in a secluded spot. They scarcely dared breathe until the manufactory was behind them, and Madoc undid the cuffs.

‘Forgive me, Your Highness. I had to make the pretence convincing.’ He paused. ‘But your own pretence was a far riskier one. Didn’t you realize how much danger you were in, alone and unprotected in such a place?’

‘I know.’ Eleri hung her head. ‘It was very foolish. Pattern did not approve either, and I would not listen to her. But I was tired of sitting helplessly about, waiting for my fate to be decided. And then in that warehouse, surrounded by all those costly, fragile, pointless things . . . I don’t know what came over me. But if it was to be my last act on earth, I was determined to enjoy it. And oh! It did feel good.’

‘I see.’ Madoc turned to Pattern with a quizzical arch of his brow. ‘Well now, Miss Pattern, how is your reading getting along? Perhaps you are beginning to acquire a taste for fairy tales. Perhaps you take a new interest in their wicked uncles and captive princesses, and monsters that lurk in the dark.’

Pattern kept her tone level. ‘If Prince Leopold is so wicked, then why are you working for him?’

‘Yes,’ said Eleri, sitting up straighter. ‘I thought you were as black-hearted as he, but here you are, risking your own life to save mine. I do not understand it at all.’

‘I don’t entirely understand it myself.’ Madoc suddenly looked very tired. ‘It is true I am not a particularly good man, and working for the Prince has made me a worse one. I suppose I fell into the mire by degrees – as, perhaps, did he. One small mischief led to a bigger one, until we were both so far gone in wickedness there seemed no way back.’ He sighed, and his eyes closed briefly. ‘So now I must make my confession. I visited the manufactory on my master’s orders, to pass on his instructions and oversee the accounts. But my plan was to travel on, all the way to the border. I mean to flee the Duchy this night, and never come back.’

‘I have forged papers, under a new name. The coachman is in my pay. My worldly goods, such as they are, are stowed in this carriage. They include various small but costly trinkets stolen from my master the Prince. So you see I am not just a criminal servant, but a treacherous one.’

‘Cowardly too,’ Pattern said tartly. ‘Whatever mess you find yourself in, you leave a far worse one for the rest of us.’ It was hard to believe she had once been in awe of the man. He had always seemed so upright and sure-footed. But now he wore a rumpled, defeated look.

Eleri leaned forwards and grasped his hand. ‘Madoc, you must know you cannot leave the country now. You must stay and redeem yourself. Whatever your former crimes, all will be pardoned – I give you my solemn word. We cannot let those poor children remain slaves to that foul manufactory. We cannot let my uncle win. At the very least, you owe it to me to tell all you know of his schemes.’

And so he did. Most of it was as they had already guessed, but he was able to supply some important details.

‘The Prince knew that if Elffinberg was to believe the dragon had returned, a trail of destruction would not be enough. People would need to think they had seen the monster with their own eyes. He had already been in talks with a Chinese agent as part of plans to expand his porcelain business. The Chinese are, of course, famed for the excellence of their ceramics. But they are equally renowned for their skill with pyrotechnics, and it was this that inspired the Prince to conjure a dragon out of fire and smoke.

‘Putting the stolen children to work in his pottery enabled him to solve two problems at a single stroke – how to dispose of the dragon’s so-called victims, and how to reduce his labour costs. All the adult workers are Chinese, recruited from the Emperor’s own porcelain manufactory at some expense. For the Prince could not rely on local craftsmen to keep his secret safe.’

‘It’s not only pots he’s storing there. We saw a cache of explosives too,’ said Pattern.

Madoc smiled. ‘The Chinese made gunpowder when our ancestors were living half-naked in mud huts. Pyrotechnics is both a science and an art, and one that can be employed to terrifying effect – especially on simple folk who are already in fear of their lives.’

‘Believe me, Your Highness, you have never been in danger of your life. Your uncle is many things, but he is not a murderer.’

‘There is a private sanatorium in Switzerland,’ Madoc answered reluctantly. ‘A small and closely guarded establishment for those suffering from diseases of the brain. He means to spirit you away and keep you there, disguised as the daughter of a wealthy English industrialist: an English girl who is under the delusion she is Elffish royalty.’

‘Imprisoned in such a place, it would not take long for true lunacy to take hold.’ Eleri shuddered. ‘I believe I would almost prefer to be fed to a dragon.’

‘I know I can never atone for my part in this, Your Highness. It is only right that I carry the shame of it now and for always. But if you will permit me to make a suggestion . . . ?’

‘The Prince Elffin’s Day Ball is but three days away. All the great and good of the Duchy will be in attendance. It is customary for the Grand Duchess to address her guests, paying tribute to the assembled company and the glory of the nation.’

‘Yes, I have to make the same sort of speech every year, and very tedious it is.’

‘It is also the perfect opportunity to denounce your uncle: in public, surrounded by people of consequence. He would not dare attack you in such a setting, and your audience will be bound to listen.’

‘Her Highness would need proof,’ Pattern cautioned. ‘No doubt the Prince’s henchmen at the pottery are already preparing to hide the captive children elsewhere and removing all trace of the explosives.’

‘I will do my best to conceal your invasion of the manufactory from the Prince, and I can supply evidence too,’ said Madoc. ‘I will need a little time, that’s all.’ Like the Grand Duchess, he looked newly energized by the thought of action. ‘The Prince and his accomplices often meet at the hunting lodge to refine their schemes. When he is at court, the place is all shut up, and patrolled by his private guard. But I am sent there sometimes on errands, and that is where I will search for evidence to build a case against him. I shall unearth his correspondence with the agent in China and the manager of the Swiss sanatorium. There will be receipts for the fireworks and payments to his foreign workers. And if you agree, I will send them to you by way of the coachman, Howell. He has as much reason to hate the Prince as anyone, for Leopold turned his parents out of their cottage to make way for the expansion of his estate, leaving them destitute.’

Light was fading by the time Eleri and Pattern parted from Madoc, and made their weary way back to Llanotto Wells. Once changed into their usual attire, they found Lady Agatha awake and alert, and pacing about in an angry manner. It was clear she suspected mischief of some kind, while having nothing certain to accuse them of, and being uncomfortably aware that she would look foolish at best and negligent at worst if the Prince were to find out her charge had escaped her. She vented her feelings in the guise of concern for the Grand Duchess’s health. ‘If you are suffering from a cough, Your Highness, you should not have stayed out so long. You could have caught a chill. Besides, these are strange and threatening times. Who knows what other dangers you might have met with?’

Eleri was all innocence. ‘Gracious, what a vivid imagination you have! You talk as if Llanotto Wells were a hotbed of radicals and revolutionaries.’

The journey back to the castle seemed to take much longer than the journey away from it. Pattern slipped into an uneasy doze. She dreamed of the dragon again, though this time it was swathed in billows of dirty smoke, from which a forked tongue flickered.

‘Little girl, don’t you wish to look into my heart of flame? My fires burn black and bright, and they are full of secrets. For I have many stories to tell – of the tears of princesses, the rage of warriors; the humbling of the mighty, and the despair of the brave . . .’

Pattern woke up with a start. Eleri was shaking her arm. ‘Whatever are you babbling about?’

Blearily she turned to the window to mark their progress, when her eye was caught by a gush of reddish-black smoke on the horizon.

Lady Agatha and the Grand Duchess were soon as riveted by the sight as she. A distant coil of smoke curled and plunged with sinuous power, the sky around it suffused by a deep red glare. The scene was then illuminated by a furious streak of light, as a cascade of fire rumbled and cackled, spitting hot sparks into the night. Was the plunging inky black shape around it made of smoke, shadows or scales? It bore little or no resemblance to the real beast beneath the castle. Yet in the gathering darkness, it was all too easy to imagine that the sky seethed with monstrous life.

Franz lashed the horses, and the carriage rattled away with all speed from the sight. But shaken as she was, there was no mistaking Lady Agatha’s smirk of satisfaction as she settled back in her seat.

‘We cannot be too careful, Your Highness,’ she said. ‘A dark power is rising, and it has the House of Elffin in its sights.’