'It is possible you have met him, but he holds himself above all but the… hmm… top of society. He is acquainted with your friend, Mr. Grenville.'
Which meant that Grenville at least tolerated the man. If Grenville had disapproved of this son-in-law, he would have found himself eventually pushed out of his precious White's.
'I can't speak for Grenville,' I said. 'If you wish me to ask him something on your behalf, I can't promise to. I suggest that you write to him yourself.'
Monsieur de la Fontaine's smile vanished, and the cold aristocrat returned. In spite of his cheaply made suit, he had the bearing of a leader, one whose ancestors had held their corner of France in an iron grip.
'No, indeed, Captain,' he said stiffly. 'I have come to speak to you. About this affair of the stolen diamonds.'
'Lady Clifford's necklace?' I asked in surprise.
'Not… hmm… Lady Clifford's, Captain. Mine. The diamonds that this English comtesse wishes you to find belong to me.'
Thinking it through, I decided I should not be very astonished. At the end of the last century, French emigres had sold what they could in order to flee France, sometimes giving ship captains everything they had in return for being smuggled across the channel. The necklace had been made in Paris, the pawnbroker I'd spoken to had told me. Everything fit together.
'Captain, may we sit?' de la Fontaine asked.
I noticed his hands trembling. He might once have been a proud aristocrat, but now he was an elderly man, his bones aching with the rain.
'Of course.' I gestured him to the wing chair, the most comfortable in the room and closest to the fire. I refilled his brandy while I dragged my desk chair over to his and sat.
Another sip of brandy restored the comte's stern but dignified stare. 'Do you believe me?' he asked.
'I do,' I said. 'The necklace came from your family?'
The count tapped the arm of the chair with his brandy glass. He was angry, and holding the anger in. 'The diamonds entered the de la Fontaine family during the time of Richelieu. They were… hmm.. handed down through the generations. Cut, re-cut, set, and reset. They reached their present form in the middle of the last century, when my grandfather was the trusted confidant of the king's official mistress. She had them set into the necklace as a gift to him. My grandfather gave them to my father, who gave them to my mother on their marriage. When my mother passed, they came to me, and I determined to give them to my own daughter when she married. My only son was killed fighting Napoleon for the English, and my daughter is all that is left of the de la Fontaines.'
He caught my sympathy and my amazed interest. A necklace created by the mistress of Louis XV would be worth far more than the several thousand pounds Lady Clifford had claimed the necklace cost. James Denis's interest also became clear. Denis would not concern himself with a simple lady's necklace, but he'd consider one with such a history well worth his notice.
'Why the devil does Earl Clifford have it, then?' I asked. 'Did you sell him the necklace to pay your way out of France?'
The anger built in de la Fontaine's eyes. 'I never sold it, Captain. Everything else, yes. Hmm. Everything. To save my daughter, it was worth it. But I kept the necklace. It was her legacy. Then it was stolen from me. I had it before I crossed the Channel-when I arrived on this shore, it was gone.'
'The ship's captain? Or crew?'
He shrugged. 'In France, I had met an Englishman-Lord Clifford-who'd agreed, for a very large sum, to arrange passage for me and my daughter and son. My wife had succumbed to illness the year before, and my children were all I had left. I feared for their lives, and so we went. The voyage was fairly easy, and the captain seemed sympathetic. But when we disembarked, I discovered the meager belongings I'd managed to carry were all gone, and we had nothing but the clothes on our backs. When I reached London, I applied to Clifford for help, but was turned away at his front door. I was too proud to beg at his scullery for scraps, so I walked away. But the necklace was gone-I assumed stolen by the captain or one of his men. Lost forever. It… hmm… broke my heart. But at least I was alive and safe and so were my children.'
'I am very sorry for your circumstance,' I said.
I too, had lost much at the hands of others, and he had my sympathy. My estimation of Lord Clifford, not high in the first place, took a decided plunge.
Fontaine leaned forward. 'And then, one evening last summer, my daughter and her husband took me with them to Vauxhall.' He chuckled, still with the humming sound. 'Taking the old man out to entertain him. As we supped in the pavilion, Captain, I saw the necklace. The jewels belonging to my family were hanging boldly around the neck of Countess Clifford, wife of the Englishman who'd helped me and my children fly from France.'
'You are certain it was the same?' Even as I asked it, I knew he had been.
'Very certain. My wife handed the necklace back to me the day she died, telling me she wished she could have seen our daughter wearing it. I walked up to Lady Clifford and introduced myself. She pretended to remember me as an emigre her husband had helped, but I knew she had no idea who I was. She never once blushed that she wore my daughter's inheritance, as you say, under my nose.'
'It is likely she did not know,' I said. 'I've met Lord Clifford.'
'Then you know what sort of man he is. I'd not have taken his assistance at all had I not been desperate. That night, he knew that I knew, but he looked at me and… hmm… dared me to say a word.'
'You did not go to a magistrate? Report the theft?'
'I am French, I am in exile. You have just finished a long war with France, and even the fact that my son lost his life fighting Napoleon for the English has not made me beloved here. What am I to tell a magistrate? I have only my word. Any paper about it, any proof I have that the necklace belongs to the de la Fontaines is long gone. Earl Clifford, he has money and influence. I have…' He opened his hand. 'Nothing.'
He was correct. De la Fontaine knew he could not prove the diamonds had belonged to him, and even I had to decide whether to believe him. He could be luring me into finding the necklace and giving it to him, whereupon he'd be several thousand pounds richer, and I'd be in the dock.
But I did not think he lied. De la Fontaine did not have the bearing and manner of a liar, and I could verify the story by browbeating Lord Clifford-a task I'd cheerfully perform.
'And what do you wish me to do?' I asked.
De la Fontaine finished his brandy, set down the glass, and rested his hands on his knees. 'What I would wish is for you to find and return the necklace to me, and tell the earl that you have failed in your quest.'
'And the moment your daughter wears the necklace to a soiree with your respectable English son-in-law? She or he will be accused of stealing it. Or at least of purchasing stolen goods.'
He closed his eyes. 'I know. I have no solution. I considered having the stones reset, but given its provenance…'
The fact that Madame de Pompadour had commissioned the necklace would be worth as much as the diamonds themselves. I appreciated his dilemma.
'Then I do not understand why you believe I can help,' I said.
De la Fontaine opened his eyes. He had deep blue eyes, and now they looked old and tired. 'I want someone to know the truth. I want you to find the diamonds and make certain they are safe. If they must reside with Lady Clifford forever, then so be it.'
His resignation decided the question for me. Remembering Clifford snarling at Grenville that he ought to be ashamed to interest himself in the affair, and then watching this aged, exiled man slump in defeat, angered me not a little.
'You may leave things in my hands,' I said. 'I might be able to find you some justice.'
De la Fontaine shook his head, his ghost of a smile returning. 'Do not make promises, Captain. I have grown used to losing.'
I rose, made my way to the brandy decanter, and poured him another glass. We'd finish all the brandy quickly at this rate, but Grenville would be happy to know it had been drunk by two men who appreciated it.
'Why do you not return to France?' I asked as the liquid trickled into his glass. 'The king is restored, the emperor dead. There is peace now.'
Fontaine saluted me with his goblet before he drank. 'All I had in France is gone. My daughter is here,
