“It is out of the question,” Becca repeated as they stepped from the carriage later that afternoon. “Not another word about the party,” she begged Hannah and Augusta as they entered the great hall with its shining marble and stone.
“I think the saffron ballgown can be completed in time.” Hannah leaned forward, past Becca, to talk to Augusta.
“I will find a hairdresser who can come the afternoon of the ball,” Augusta answered. The two women took each other’s arm and climbed the stairs together, heading toward their rooms. “Find us when you are done with Dr. Franklin,” Augusta called.
“Or hide from you,” Becca called back. “Any more talk about the party, and you may never see me again.”
But Augusta was right about one thing, Becca admitted. She needed to find Dr. Franklin and Daniel to tell them what she’d learned from Renée. She followed the sound of familiar voices into the sitting room.
“There you are, Mrs. Parcell. You are in time for hot chocolate.” Dr. Franklin raised a delicate white-and-gold porcelain cup to her. He sat across from Gabriel at a chess table in the center of the sitting room.
Franklin swept his free arm toward another table against the long wall. “Monsieur d’Aumont has brought us this treat. He whisked an egg into the drink, just the way the last king, Louis XV, preferred. You must stop spoiling us.”
Gabriel merely smiled. The French official had visited each day since the attack on Daniel, bringing small gifts to entertain him. Cantal cheese from central France, which dated back to the ancient Gauls, he told them, and, now, the hot chocolate.
Finding kindness in the world was a rare thing, Becca knew, and it undid her in a way that confrontation and anger never could.
Daniel sat across from the two men. In green breeches, a green and yellow striped vest, and a starched white linen shirt, he was the picture of a French gentleman. After living this luxurious life here, could Daniel ever be happy returning to America?
He had been reading The Wealth of Nations, one of his favorite books, Becca knew. Now, he slid the book onto the nearby table where his hot chocolate waited. “Did you learn anything at the perfume shop?”
“Were you out seeking new gloves or scents? I hope you visited a reputable establishment.” Gabriel studied Becca with amusement.
“Quite reputable. We met a princess.” Becca stepped to the sideboard and poured herself a cup of chocolate from the silver pitcher.
“A princess? You must have gone to the perfumery on the rue du Roule,” Gabriel said. “It is one of the queen’s favorite establishments.”
“The queen?” Becca’s stomach dropped. Would the queen attend the party at Versailles? “I think it is Lady Augusta’s new favorite place, too.” She took a sip of the chocolate, savoring the complex, sweet flavors. She drifted over to Daniel’s chair and whispered, “Did you mention Mr. Bancroft to Doctor Franklin?”
He shook his head. “I kept my promise.”
Becca smiled with gratitude. Daniel hadn’t told Dr. Franklin about Mr. Bancroft’s love letter. He’d waited for Becca, as he’d promised. And Becca would add what she’d learned from Renée. Mr. Bancroft’s connection to Jude seemed obvious to her now.
“We’ll need some privacy, Monsieur d’Aumont, for a bit of business. I know you’ll understand,” Daniel said.
“Anything you can say to me, Monsieur d’Aumont can hear.” Franklin frowned.
So did Becca. Dr. Franklin was as careless, it seemed, about who heard news as he was about who read his papers left on tables and chairs around the house.
When Daniel hesitated, Franklin pounded his fist on the chessboard. A small, white tower rattled and fell off its rectangle. “France would never have approved so many gifts and loans to America without Monsieur d’Aumont. We have no better friend in this country. Now, what is this business of yours that cannot wait?”
Daniel shrugged. “You are a cautious man, Dr. Franklin, and so am I. You asked me and Mrs. Parcell for a favor. You had some questions about the household.”
“Just say what you mean, sir.” Franklin paused. His eyes lit with understanding. “Ah. You have said what you mean.”
Franklin had asked Daniel and Becca to share any evidence that members of the household were spying for the British.
“You found nothing. That is what you told me,” Dr. Franklin said.
“That was true until the night I was attacked,” Daniel answered. “I told you that I was following Mr. Bancroft. I didn’t tell you that I saw Mr. Bancroft leave a letter in the ground. He hid it in a bottle. I retrieved it just as I was hit.”
d’Aumont’s chair creaked as he shifted. “It was dark. You are certain?”
“Yes.” Daniel leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together.
“Why didn’t you tell me this the night it happened?” Franklin pushed away from the chess table.
“I didn’t remember then,” Daniel said.
“The note appeared to be a love letter. It was none of our business and certainly not worthy of bringing to your attention,” Becca said.
“You tell us now. Why?” Franklin scowled.
“Because this morning, we discovered a note written in sympathetic ink between the lines of his love letter. You were at Versailles, or we would have told you then,” Daniel said.
Franklin sank back into the chair.
d’Aumont threw his hands in the air. “Did I not tell you, Dr. Franklin? Have I not warned you about this man?”
Becca’s chest tightened. She strode to the sitting room doors, yanked them shut, and whirled around. “You knew Mr. Bancroft was a spy, and you let him stay?”
“My enemies are right. I am too old for this work.” Franklin raked his hand through his thinning gray hair. His voice was raspy. “I have known Mr. Bancroft for so long. I could not make myself believe you, Monsieur d’Aumont.” He turned to Daniel. “That is why I asked you and Mrs. Parcell to study the household. I could not be objective.”
A servant’s footsteps clattered on the hallway’s marble tile. Outside the window, a crow called kraw-kraw.
Finally, Franklin sniffed, then turned to Becca. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes cold. “What did the message say?”
“It described Jude Fenimore’s death on the roof,” she answered. “It mentioned me and Mr. Alloway.”
Franklin turned his attention back to the chessboard.
Becca waited for an outburst, for Dr. Franklin to demand to see Mr. Bancroft. Instead, he placed the white chess piece that had fallen back on its square.
“Aren’t you going to send Mr. Bancroft home or have him arrested?” Becca demanded.
“Of course not.” Franklin moved a pawn. “Enemies can be as useful as friends.”
“Enemies can kill,” Becca said.
“Will one of you gentlemen explain to Mrs. Parcell?”
Daniel grimaced. “Dr. Franklin will make sure Mr. Bancroft finds more information to report, but it will not be accurate.”
“He will change a number, a date, on some official-looking paper that he will leave on his desk,” Gabriel added. Mr. Bancroft will pass along the misinformation on troop strength in Virginia, perhaps a ship’s location, a plan of attack. None of it will be true.”
“Who will receive the information?” Becca asked. “England?”
“Most likely England,” d’Aumont said. “Maybe it will go to the Dutch or the Austrians.”
Franklin slid the tower forward on the chessboard. d’Aumont contemplated his move. Daniel picked up The Wealth of Nations.
Pressure squeezed Becca’s chest. They were speaking of lies, murder, and spies. How could they be so calm? Was something wrong with them or with her? Perhaps this news would rattle them enough to do something.
“Mr. Bancroft’s crimes extend beyond spying to murder.” She had their attention. “Jude Fenimore said that he hadn’t understood the harm in the days before he died. “He said ‘he would make it right,’ and that, ‘he was not going to let it happen.’ He came here to warn someone. Jude arrives here and is killed. Who else but Mr. Bancroft could be guilty?”
The three men spoke at once. “Warn who?” “When?” “How do you know?”
Becca described her conversation with Renée at the perfume shop. “‘Tis obvious that Mr. Bancroft is part of this scheme, whatever is intended by it. He is a spy. He must have killed Jude Fenimore the night of the lightning storm to stop him from warning one of us.”
“Warn us about what?” Daniel asked.
Becca didn’t have an answer.
Monsieur d’Aumont shivered. “I was here the morning you discovered Mr. Fenimore’s body. I did not see anything amiss.”
Nothing amiss but murder, Becca thought.
Franklin seemed to be sleeping. With eyes closed, he said, “The fact that Mr. Bancroft is a spy does not make him a killer.”
“You defend him?” Daniel asked with surprise. “Because he is your friend?”
“Was. He was my friend.” Franklin stood. “I suspected, but I couldn’t make myself believe,” he murmured. “You will forgive me, Monsieur d’Aumont, for leaving before we complete our match. I find that I am tired.” He shuffled to the door, seemingly years older than when he welcomed Becca to the room.
“I almost forgot,” Daniel called. “Becca and I were thinking of spending a day in Bougival with a merchant friend. Has your carriage been repaired, Dr. Franklin? Might we borrow it tomorrow?”
This was the first Becca had heard of the trip or the friend. Daniel barely shook his head in her direction, but it was enough. She sat back in her chair to the extent her stays allowed. She would seek an explanation when they were alone.
“No. I’m afraid the carriage is still at the neighbor’s. It should be ready soon.” At the entryway, Franklin turned a last time. “They are coming closer, aren’t they, Mrs. Parcell? Mr. Fenimore’s death, then the attack on Mr. Alloway.”
In a fluid motion, Gabriel d’Aumont stood and strode to Daniel. “My friend.” His sharp features softened. “I am sorry you are caught up in this matter.” His gaze slid to the door, as if to assure himself that no one stood listening in the hallway. “I can arrange to have the police look the other way if you and Mrs. Parcell wish to voyage home.”
“Mrs. Parcell will go,” Daniel answered. “I have goods on a ship leaving from Le Havre in a month.” He turned to Becca. “You will be on that ship.”
“I think not.” Her voice rose with surprise and hurt.
He raised one finger as if to count. “We’ll never be able to marry in France. The magistrate swore to prevent it. I’ll come back for you as soon as I can.”
He raised two more fingers. “I have already been attacked, and another man–Jude Fenimore–has been killed here.
“More important. Most important….” He pointed at Becca. “I will worry about you every moment until we leave this place.” Daniel’s slightly down-turned eyes filled with grief. “Thank the Lord we are not married.”
Thank the Lord. The sentence didn’t register for a moment. Then, her heart fractured into a thousand sharp pieces. She wondered whether Daniel had heard the sound. “Yes, thank the Lord.” She slammed the cup of chocolate on the side table so hard that its contents spilled. “This is how you tell me that you don’t wish to marry me? You thank the Lord that it’s not possible for us to wed?” She would not cry. Not here. She clamped her lips shut.
Heels clacked in the hallway. A giggle. A second voice shushing the other. How many servants had passed by outside the room? How many had heard her outburst?
“I did not intend to cause a lover’s quarrel.” Gabriel’s hand rose to his heart as he stood. “Consider my offer, mon ami. You will be coming to Versailles in two days, yes?” He turned from Becca to Daniel.
Daniel nodded. Becca drifted away, turning her back on both men. Her limbs were stiff with anger.
“We will continue our discussion at Versailles,” d’Aumont said. The door softly clicked shut behind her.
“I shall return home to Morristown,” she said. What had just happened? How had her life changed course in the space of a breath?
“Quite sensible.” Daniel’s smile was approving. “Tell everyone that you will be going home. It will be best if we say that we have come to our senses and realized that we will not suit,” he said as they were discussing an unwanted dinner invitation.
She stood, her limbs wooden and clumsy. If she ever made the mistake of falling in love again, she would force herself to recall these words: Thank the Lord we are not married. She couldn’t catch her breath.
“Becca?” Daniel sounded confused.
But she would never make the mistake of falling in love again. Of that, she was certain. She strode to the door and flung it open.
He shot across the room, blocking her exit. “What is it?” He took her hand, and she shook it off.
Her eyes filled. “You are an addlepated blunderbuss. A muttonhead. A, a clodpate. And I am, too, for thinking you meant….”
He kicked the heavy door shut, then drew her into his arms. His kiss was fierce, and she returned it, despite everything.
“Only for your safety,” he whispered into her ear. “You couldn’t think I mean to break our engagement.” He pulled back. His forehead furrowed. “How could you believe that?”
“Because you said so.” Numbers were so much easier to understand than words, she thought, not for the first time. Numbers were exact. They meant the same thing every time. Words could mean almost anything or nothing at all.
You said it was a blessing we weren’t married.” She poked him in the chest. “You said we’d tell everyone we don’t suit. How am I to know when you don’t mean what you say?” She poked him again.
He grabbed her hand. “Of course we suit. What does it matter if we don’t get married here? I wasn’t certain you’d even arrive to marry me until your ship docked in Nantes.”
“You weren’t certain? You didn’t tell me,” Becca said.
“How many times did you decline my proposals of marriage?”
“I didn’t count,” Becca admitted. She never thought to marry again. Never wanted to marry again.
“You count the clouds in the sky but didn’t bother counting my proposals?” His hand rose to his chest in mock reproof. He pulled her away from the door. “Jude’s murderer is one of us, one of the people living here. Perhaps Mr. Bancroft. Perhaps not. He or she will guess that you and I share confidences. They’ll guess your questions are intended to find them out. That makes you as much his target as I am.”
“And I am just as capable as you of protecting myself.” She placed her hand on his chest.
“You might be more capable.” He acknowledged, sweeping his arm round her back.
He was right. She was more capable, given her skills with knife and gun. But Becca didn’t think it was the time to point that out, not when she was losing herself in his arms.
“I still think you, Hannah, and Augusta should return to America.” His warm breath against her cheek made her shiver. “But for now, you should be safer if everyone thinks you want nothing to do with me, that you have discovered I am a rapscallion.”
“That you have behaved badly.” She echoed his thought. “And so everything you said?”
“How could you think I didn’t want to marry you?”
She would consider his question later. She had assumed he was pushing her away, as if that were bound to happen. But for now, she leaned forward and lifted her lips to his, a quick, warm kiss. He tasted of chocolate.
“Let us make sure the entire household hears of our broken engagement,” Daniel said.
“Shall I start?”
“Ladies first.” He nodded.
Becca cleared her throat, then roared, “I meant every word. You have deceived me from the moment I landed in France. Perhaps from the first day we met.”
“Well done,” Daniel whispered. “Now, my turn.”
He bellowed, “I am not responsible for your assumptions, Mrs. Parcell. We are not wedded, and if there are other women….” Caressing the line of her jaw, Daniel whispered, “There will never be other women.” His voice rose again. “If there are other women, you have no call to chastise me.”
“How will we meet if we are so estranged?” Becca whispered.
“There’s still the door between our two rooms.” He swept one finger along her bottom lip. “We’ll meet after dark as we do now.” He paused. “Shall I deliver the final coup de grace?” He opened the door to the front hall. “There is only one way to make this right. I ask you to release me from our engagement.”
On the stairs, footsteps slowed, then stopped.
“I do.” This was not how she expected to say I do. “I do release you. Nothing would make me happier.”
Words had power. Daniel was play-acting, but a sudden sadness settled over her, as if speaking of a broken engagement could attract bad luck.
His half smile reflected her foreboding. In a loud, angry voice, he added, “As soon as I can acquire tickets for you, Hannah, and Lady Augusta, I will see you safely away from here.”
He leaned in and whispered, “I mean that about the tickets. I need to know you are safe. I want you on the first ship sailing from here.” His kiss was quick, and then he was gone. His voice echoed in the hall as he muttered a sprinkling of French curse words.
Shouldn’t she be relieved, Becca wondered. She was relieved that Daniel’s feelings were as steadfast as her own. But she wouldn’t be dismissed for her own safety, not by Benjamin Franklin and not by Daniel Alloway. She stormed from the room.
A male servant passed her near the staircase. She nodded, ignoring his doleful look of pity. It wouldn’t take long for the entire house to learn of her fight with Daniel.
Fine. Her spine straightened as she climbed the stairs. All she and Daniel needed to do was find Jude’s killer. Then, somehow, they would marry. And if playing the humiliated, embarrassed former fiancé of Daniel Alloway helped her get answers, all the better. She was not leaving.