The Mask of Night

You and David must come to dine soon. I think I shall invite Oliver and Isobel as well. It’s the only way we all have a hope of getting past this.

Mélanie Fraser to Simon Tanner,

15 January 1820

The Comte de Flahaut sat on the edge of the jade satin sofa in the small salon, gaze fixed on his clasped hands. ‘When I got the message from Hortense asking me to set up the meeting at Spendlove Manor, I should have come straight to you instead of going to Lord Carfax and my father.“ He lifted his head and looked at Charles and Mélanie and then at Hortense, an apology in his eyes.

‘We didn’t realize then that Talleyrand was in London and working with Carfax,’ Mélanie said. ‘That changed things for you.’

Flahaut nodded. ‘Half the time I’m not sure whether or not he’s telling the truth. I still don’t fully understand the association between him and Carfax. But he is my father. Can you understand that?’

‘Yes,’ Charles said. ‘Oddly enough I can.’

Mélanie watched her husband, but his gaze remained on Flahaut.

Flahaut shook his head and reached for the paper Hortense had given him. ‘I can’t believe Lady St. Ives returned this to you.’

‘Loyalty can appear in unexpected places,’ Mélanie said. ‘Lady St. Ives was loyal to St. Juste, and St. Juste was loyal to Josephine and therefore to her daughter.’

Hortense moved to the sofa and touched the paper without touching Flahaut’s hand. ‘I thought we could burn it together. Then the past will be behind us, where it should be.’

Flahaut studied his former love across the paper that held the secret of their child’s birth.

‘I’m leaving for Arenenberg tomorrow,’ Hortense said. ‘Mr. Fraser has been kind enough to use his contacts to arrange for me to travel incognito.’

‘I didn’t realize you’d be going so soon,’ Flahaut said.

‘It’s folly to remain here. We’re none of us ever going back to where we were before Waterloo.’

‘No.“ Flahaut held the paper out to the candle flame. ‘But I’d like to think there’ll be a time when we can be happy to remember.’

An infectious melody drifted through the drawing room. From the opera of ten days ago, Charles realized. Mélanie was at the piano. Lucinda was on the carpet in front of the fireplace, organizing a game for Colin and Jessica, the young Lydgates, and Roth’s two sons. Isobel sat on the sofa with Roth’s sister Harriet. Roth, David, Pendarves, and O’Roarke were gathered by the windows. Simon, Bet, Trenor, and Will Gordon stood laughing round the tea table. To all outward appearances it was the sort of gathering they’d had countless times in the past. Yet there were discordant echoes in the room that it would take more than Rossini’s melodies to drive away.

Charles took a champagne bottle from its cooler and walked over to Oliver who was standing a little apart from the others. “I’m glad you could come today,” he said, refilling Oliver’s glass. “It’s good to see the children together.”

“They’ve been looking forward to it.“ Oliver took a long drink of champagne. ‘I didn’t think you’d ever want me in your house again.’

“Sylvie was right about one thing. We were all pawns in the same game.”

Oliver’s fingers tightened round his champagne glass. ‘I used to think I didn’t have any illusions about Sylvie. I knew she’d never be mine, but I thought we’d always have something between us. And God help me, I’m not sure the rest of her revelations would have changed that. But what she and St. Juste did to Bel—“ Oliver’s gaze shifted to his wife. She was laughing at something Harriet Roth had said, but some elemental spark had drained from her the night of the murder.

“It can’t be easy,” Charles said.

“No. We occupy the same house. We spend time with our children. I don’t think we’ve treated each other so damn politely since our wedding day. But whenever she leaves the house I find myself wondering where she’s going. Whenever I say something I can see her wondering if I’m lying. I expect she looks over her shoulder in case I have someone following her again. One can apologize, one can even forgive, but one can’t rebuild trust.”

The melody shifted into a more plaintive key beneath Mélanie’s skilled fingers. “Not all at once,’ Charles said.

“David doesn’t trust me anymore. I can see it in his eyes. I’m not sure you do. I can’t blame you.”

‘It’s folly to dwell on the past.’

‘But you’re going to think twice before you confide secrets to me. You’d be a fool if you did otherwise.’

Charles took a sip of champagne. “Whom do you identify with in Julius Caesar?”

“Antony.“ Oliver’s mouth twisted. “Like him, I’ve been known to make questionable alliances.”

“One revelation isn’t enough to wipe out a decade of friendship. Or a marriage.”

“The trouble is, I’m not sure what Bel and I have to build on. Or perhaps what we once had is too badly damaged. We said the right things at the wrong times. Or to put it more bluntly, I found out too late that my wife used to love me.”

A quarrel between Billy and Rose Lydgate, which Oliver was obliged to referee, put an end to the discussion. Charles returned to refilling champagne glasses. It was something, he thought, that they were all able to be in the same room and that genuine laughter filled the air. A fortnight ago, he would not have laid even money on the prospect.

Some time later he went down to his study to fetch a book he’d promised to show David. The door clicked shut softly behind him. He turned from the glass-fronted bookcase to see that O’Roarke had followed him with his usual soundlessness.

‘I’m sorry,’ O’Roarke said. ‘But I wanted to say something to you, and it seemed best not to do so in front of the others. Thank you for including me in the invitation. I don’t imagine it was easy. For what it’s worth, I’m grateful.’

Charles nodded. He meant to leave it at that, but he stood there for a moment, running his fingers over the supple leather of the bookbinding. “When you encouraged Mélanie to accept my proposal of marriage. How much of it had to do with the fact that you knew I wouldn’t try to take the easy way out of life again if I had a wife and child?”

“My dear Charles. Surely you don’t believe I’d make such a decision based on purely personal motives.”

“Not purely.”

“Besides if I was that worried about your mental state, wouldn’t I have been concerned for how you might react if you learned the truth about Mélanie?”

“But you might have known that whatever became of my marriage I wouldn’t let down a child that I’d made my own.”

O’Roarke took a step forward, out of the revealing light from the windows. “I haven’t made nearly enough decisions in my life with you at the forefront, Charles.“

He too seemed to mean to leave it there. Charles continued to watch him. O’Roarke drew a breath. ‘But you were one of the reasons I didn’t take Mélanie off to South America.”

Charles stared at him.

“Would you go half way across the earth if it meant you’d most likely never see Colin again?”

Charles continued to look at his father. “No,” he said. “I wouldn’t.“ His fingers tightened on the embossed Morocco. ‘Look—Mélanie likes being able to see you. I’d go so far as to say she needs you.”

“Mélanie doesn’t need anyone. I wouldn’t read—“

“I’m not jealous. Not in that way. Mostly not in that way. Mélanie’s happier when you’re about. I want her to be happy. And I don’t think I should deny you the right to see your—“

“Grandchildren?”

“Yes.”

Silence stretched between them. The door opened before either of them could break it. ‘Charles—“ Mélanie paused on the threshold taking in O’Roarke’s presence.

‘We were about to come back upstairs.“ Charles moved away from the bookcase. ‘Sorry to be gone so long.’

‘Lucinda’s asking for the music to the new songs Schubert sent us. I thought I might have left it here—’

‘On the desk.“ Charles tucked the sheet music beneath his arm together with the book.

‘Thank you, darling.“ Mélanie flashed him a smile. Her gaze flickered between him and O’Roarke.

‘O’Roarke is going to dine with us next week,’ Charles said. ‘We’ve been settling on a date.’

A host of questions shot through Mélanie’s eyes and remained unspoken on her lips. ‘What a good idea. Perhaps Thursday next would do?’

‘Admirably,’ O’Roarke said.

‘It’s settled then.“ Charles moved to the door. ‘We should rejoin our guests.’

Unspoken words and unvoiced sentiments drifted through the air. ‘It’s shockingly difficult to navigate the conversation and remember who knows what,’ Mélanie said in her usual bright tones. ‘I need the two of you to back me up before I get hopelessly muddled.’

‘I can’t imagine you being anything of the sort,’ O’Roarke said.

‘Nor can I.“ Charles opened the study door and the three of them returned to warmth and lights of the drawing room.