Bellingham came into the drawing room. They were all shocked by the good woman's appearance, for she was drawn and pale. It was obvious she had been crying most of the day as her eyes were puffy and red. She was dressed in a housegown, and her hair disheveled. It was as if she had not prepared for her day at all. 'Ohh, my dears, how good of you to come,' Lady Bellingham said, and then she burst into fresh tears.
'Aunt, what is the matter?' Caroline cried, going to her relation, and putting her arms about her.
'It is your cousin, the Comtesse d'Aumont,' Lady Bellingham managed to say before she wept again.
'I have a cousin who is a French countess?' Caroline said, bemused.
'Come, dear Lady Bellingham, and sit down.' Allegra began taking charge of the situation as it was obvious no one else was going to do so. 'Quinton, a sherry for the poor woman.' She drew the older lady to a settee and sat down next to her. 'Here, drink this. You must calm yourself, Lady Bellingham,' Allegra continued. 'Whatever the problem is, you will not solve it by weeping. If we are to help then we must know what is troubling you.'
'Ohh, my child, I do not think anyone can help us,' Lady Bellingham said, but she nonetheless sipped her sherry until she felt a bit more at peace with herself, and able to speak.
The others sat down about her, and waited patiently.
Finally the distraught lady was able to begin. 'My husband,' she began, 'has two younger brothers. Caroline's father as you know is the rector of St. Anne's Church down at Bellinghamton. It is a modest living, but one that allowed him and his family to be comfortable. The youngest brother, Robert Bellingham, had the good fortune to marry a Frenchwoman. She was the only daughter of the Comte de Montroi, and he doted upon her. Consequently her dowry portion was very generous on the provision she and her husband remain in France. With nothing in England for him, Robert Bellingham saw no reason not to remain in his bride's homeland. So they were married. I remember going to France for the wedding. It was thirty-five years ago. We never even got to Paris, for Robert's wife, Marie-Claire, lived in Normandy.' She stopped a moment to sip the remainder of her sherry, and then held out her little glass to the duke for more. He complied silently.
'A year after the marriage they had a little girl who was baptized Anne-Marie. Sadly there were no more children. Anne-Marie was married when she was eighteen to the Comte d'Aumont, a neighbor. She is some years your senior, Caroline, which is why you have never met. Robert and his family were quite content to be country folk as were Anne-Marie and her husband. They have never been to England, and Robert never returned after he married.
'When Anne-Marie was twenty her parents were killed in a carriage accident. The shock caused her to miscarry a child, but the following year she bore her husband a daughter, whom she named after her mama; and then two years later, a son, Jean, after her husband, and Robert, after her papa.' Lady Bellingham swallowed down some more sherry, then continued.
'They lived happily for some years, but then fifteen months ago the Comte d'Aumont was caught up in the Reign of Terror, and guillotined. It was a terrible accident of fate that it ever happened. He was in Paris. An old friend had been detained by the Committee for Public Safety. Jean-Claude had gone to his aid. The comte was, you see, a Republican himself. He believed in the Revolution, but when he visited his friend in prison to see how he might help he, too, was arrested. It was so naive of him to have gone, but he truly trusted in reform, although how he could after the murders of King Louis and his wife I do not understand. He was a kind man, I am told.' She sniffled into her handkerchief.
'Anne-Marie and her husband were very much like our own country people despite their aristocratic backgrounds. They were kind to their tenants, and when the harvest was bad they never demanded their rent, but rather helped to feed their people. They are loved in their village of St. Jean Baptiste. After her husband was killed we begged our niece to come to England where she and her children would be safe until this horror is over, however it ends; but Anne-Marie is all French despite her English father. Her little son Jean-Robert is now the Comte d'Aumont. His lands are all he has. Anne-Marie is afraid if she leaves those lands, they will be taken away from the family. So she has stayed, and now this!' Lady Bellingham broke into fulsome sobs again.
'Our niece is under house arrest. The local revolutionary authorities are threatening to take her children away from her!' wailed Lady Bellingham.
Now the Duke of Sedgwick found himself drawn into this tale of woe. He knelt before the distraught woman and said quietly, 'How is it that you know this, Lady Bellingham? How has the information come to your attention and that of your husband?'
'My niece lives near the coast,' Lady Bellingham explained. 'One of her servants took Anne-Marie's letter to a cousin who is a fisherman. The fisherman brought it across the water, and gave it to a fish merchant he knows who was coming up to London, with instructions that the fishmonger would be rewarded if he delivered the letter to us immediately. Freddie gave him a whole guinea!'
'How long did it take for this letter to reach you?' the duke said. 'Did your niece date her missive?'
'She wrote but five days ago,' Lady Bellingham said. Then she turned her tearstained face to the duke. 'Ohh, Quinton, you must help us! You must go and fetch Anne-Marie and her children from the dreadful people in France!'
'You said she would not come,' Allegra reminded the older lady. 'You said she didn't want her son to lose his inheritance.'
'She will come now, child, I am certain of it. She sees the futility of trying to hold on to her son's estate. Whoever has sought to have her placed under house arrest and steal her children away means to destroy the d'Aumonts, and have what is theirs. Anne-Marie is helpless before such an enemy. She is a country wife and has no influence with the authorities.' She burst into fulsome tears once again, her shoulders shaking with her grief.
Caroline rushed now to comfort her aunt while Allegra and her husband stepped aside.
'Why,' Allegra asked her husband, 'did she ask you to rescue her niece and her children, Quinton?'
'Three years ago when the terror began, Ocky, Dree, Marcus, and I rescued a friend in Paris. It began as a lark. We knew Harry was in Paris visiting distant cousins. Then came word he had been arrested with those cousins. He had managed to get word out of prison because he was English, and had the ready to pay bribes. His family was all atwitter, and didn't know how to proceed. His father kept blustering that the Froggies had no right to arrest an English citizen, but there was poor Harry incarcerated, and a tumbrel's ride away from Madame la Guillotine. So we sailed Marcus's yacht across the channel, rented horses, and rode up to Paris.
'There, with supreme arrogance so common to us English, we went to the prison and demanded to see the governor of the facility. Marcus and Dree had brought a little money, and Ocky had just gotten his allowance from his father for the term. We threw money around as if we actually possessed it, but for me. My French is said to be peerless, and so I did the talking when the governor of the prison appeared. I explained that Lord Harry Carew was a wayward but beloved cousin of the English king who had sent us to request his return. And all the while I talked I kept jiggling this velvet bag in my hand. It jingled quite convincingly. As we anticipated, the governor was greedy.
'He could,' he said, 'release the unimportant Anglais to us for a small price. No, said I. We wanted the Englishman and his relations unless, of course, they were criminals. The governor considered. Harry's relations, it turned out, were two elderly ladies. So the governor decided he would be generous if we were generous. The exchange was made. We promised to take the ladies home to collect their belongings and leave Paris before nightfall. The governor agreed, especially as we got the ladies to sign over their house near Notre Dame to him.'
'So
