Murder At Pemberley

By Tom Thorpe

Chapter One

"We are all suspects until this business is sorted out," Fitzwilliam Darcy admonished all present. He glanced down at the murder weapon and pondered its significance. It was an ordinary table knife. The silver crested handle displayed the Darcy family coat of arms. He was certain that he had used it many times, as did his wife and parents, without pretense of its ultimate fate. Who had come to purloin this article? Perhaps that was a clue in itself. Would not a gentleman, intent on murder, carry a concealed hunting knife prior to entering the Pemberly house? Would not a lady use a less violent means for such an objective? And the servants, would they not refrain from despoiling the name of Darcy and choose a more familiar tool? An enraged guest might seize it as a vehicle of opportunity, a moment's insanity seizing upon it for its convenience. Or, with a sudden chill, he considered, it could have been a calculated choice as part of a sinister plot to select a weapon which could not be traced to an identity. These thoughts passed as he turned the knife over and over under a fixed stare, as if by attention he could force the truth from it. "How could this tragedy be inflicted upon my house?" he reflected. "Who had done this despicable act and what possible motive was there to incur such harm to a poor defenseless woman? The answer must be hidden in a dark secret known only to one of his close friends, a culprit who would give satisfaction on that account only once apprehended." On impulse he lifted the knife to his nose but the only scent was a faint reminder of the blood spilt during the previous night. No evidence was yet identified to help relieve their frustration. No, the solution must be gleaned from the events of the past few days.

It was the night of the Darcy's second anniversary ball. The family had changed since a similar festivity had been held to celebrate their first year of marriage. Elizabeth Darcy had now become adept at conducting social events of large magnitude demanding service for over one hundred guests. She relished these events despite some misfortune resulting from the former activity. Both her sister and cousin by marriage had departed on separate elopements as a direct consequence of the first Pemberly ball. Then too, Lady Catherine had chosen a fateful path to their manor. During the past five months, the woman's demanding behavior, intolerance and disdain for their marriage had confronted Lizzy in nearly every discourse. How many times had she herself wanted to put an end to Lady de Bourgh's imposition on their happiness. Were it not for William's polite indulgence of his aunt, she'd have provided no excuse for the woman's assimilation into the household.

"Possibly the present tragedy could be regarded as a new beginning," Elizabeth mused. "What had Darcy said? 'We are all suspects'? Surely she could not be thought a candidate as the perpetrator of such a crime. Nor might her sister Jane, of such approving countenance, now seven months pregnant, be seen as guilty of such evil or distemper. She and husband Charles Bingley had managed to attend the party despite the hardship of her condition. Who then of the family might be thought to harbour such sinister motives or endured such pain that murder could be the only option? Surely not her parents or younger sister. They, on occasion, may express some impropriety of manner, but could be given credit for the potential of this act. Her sister Lydia and husband George Wickham might demonstrate substantial weakness for material gain, but not plot to this extreme, especially without obvious reward. Could Charlotte, a friend of many years and her husband, a vicar, be capable of such outrage? Their acquaintance with the lady was only surface at best and they seemed well contented with each other regardless of the pressure of losing Lady Catherine's patronage. And what of Caroline Bingley or even Mr. Hurst? The former was a close companion, the latter, of constant imbibery, might not even be capable of a sober thought? Could a servant be suspect, one whose devotion was somehow sacrificed by the victim's presence? No, the culprit must be among their friends in common who had shared intercourse with the deceased. The guest list had included several known mutual acquaintances:

Mr. and Mrs. John Black of London
Sir Terrence Winthrop formerly of London now of Derbyshire
Jack Crullage a friend of Mr. Collins from Hunsford

What exchange of their past could have brought about this carnage?

The events of the past evening were not remarkable. By eight that night the music had most couples in dance. Elizabeth missed her sister Kitty's enthusiasm for the young men present and even Lydia was no longer the reckless male pursuer. Her parents conversed with the Bingley's and themselves for most of the evening. Her mother, more than ever preoccupied with the fast approaching arrival of their first grandchild, seemed less interested in the assemblage than usual. Lizzy's only recollection of any unusual circumstance was a brief interruption when Sir Terrence had tripped over the nearly prone form of a sotted Mr. Hurst. With some annoyance the man had righted himself and apologized for having been an obstruction to his path. Sir Terrence bowed stiffly, turning away with a sneer for the other's state.

At ten Lady Catherine, no longer able to provide interest in the tutelage of young women, retired to her room with a final attempt to convey her displeasure with their marriage, "I would expect this to be the last of these affairs requiring my attendance." To William she offered, "Your generous effort to entertain your friends, I am certain, will be much appreciated. I must, however, bid you all a good night." With that she ascended the steps to the upstairs rooms and was gone. By midnight the crowd had begun to thin. Jane, Charlotte and Lizzy, grouped in one corner; the Bennets and Wickhams with Mary in another continued to converse. Mr. Hurst appeared ill attentive, if not asleep, to the profound utterances of Mr. Collins, while Darcy and Bingley argued over the best shooting grounds. Caroline and Louisa Hurst went upstairs presumably to their rooms for the remainder of the night. By one A.M. all conversation had stopped, the guests had departed or were ensconced in their accommodations for the night, leaving the servants to repair the damage. The Manor was still.

The morning's tranquillity was gradually banished by the occasional descent of guests seeking breakfast or a cure for the night's over indulgence. Lizzy and William sat at one end of a long table adorned with fruits and breads. "Happy anniversary my dear. I think our visitors enjoyed the affair immensely," William began. "Where you find the time and energy to manage such undertakings is a mystery to me." She was about to respond, when Sir Winthrop sat down abruptly commenting, "A jolly good party indeed. You must be congratulated for maintaining a sense of society here in the countryside."

At 9:23 A.M. a scream echoed through the hallways. Julia, the upstairs maid, ran to the stairway breathlessly imploring the occupants below "Come quick! I think that she's dead!" Darcy reached the landing only a half step ahead of Sir Terrence, but due to a former leg injury, he was passed on the stairs and reached Lady Catherine's doorway, pointed out by the maid, behind several responders. By the time Lizzy arrived at the scene the two men were bent over a motionless figure on Lady Catherine's bed. As she approached she could see that the victim's was still wearing a gown of the previous night which was now heavily stained with blood. She gasped, "What has happened to Lady Catherine?"

"It is not Lady de Bourgh, Lizzy. It is Louisa Hurst with a serving knife in her back," William answered. At that moment Mrs. Hurst's brother, Charles and sister, Caroline entered the room. Caroline's face turned ashen and she fainted. Sir Winthrop lifted her to a nearby chair and called for water. Charles had never looked so horrified. By now a crowd of onlookers had gathered in the doorway. Someone was instructed to wake Mr. Hurst. A servant was then dispatched to fetch Doctor Gracepool and the constable of Lambton, a town some twenty miles distant. As the group of guests milled through the bedroom, Elizabeth's eye was caught by a reflection off the floor near the foot of the bed. Reaching down she retrieved a small pendant about the size of her thumb with a fleur de lis emblem. Turning it over, the inscription on the back read: "Colombe du Paix. Bonaparte". Lizzy was startled by the name and quickly closed it into a fist, then deposited it into her pocket. The action was noticed by several persons within the room. Darcy rose from the bed and suggested that they all assemble downstairs, leaving Charles, his sister and the now arriving Mr. Hurst to mourn their loss. No one amongst the exiting group had noticed the absence of Lady Catherine.

Chapter Two

Ten years earlier, amidst the rubble of a small town near the Franco-Prussian border, a young French girl picked her way through the ruins. Her name was Nina. She had wandered with other recent orphans in the wreckage of civilization searching for food. Taking care to avoid beggars and militia alike, the children sought survival amid the refuse. A dark man dressed in tattered clothing watched nearby. As Nina approached, surveying the ground beneath her for any item of value, she had not noticed his proximity. At once he leaped forward, grabbing her arm. She screamed in surprise, but had no hope of escape as he pulled her to him and began to retreat into the shadows. He then pulled out a sack which was pulled over her head to muffle the cries for help. For several minutes she was carried until the sound of subdued voices could be heard. A coarse rope was wrapped around her hands and feet, followed by a shove into the back of a wagon where sounds of sobbing indicated the presence of several other small bodies. She felt the wagon jerk forward to begin a journey of several hours. Conversation was not attempted as no one could explain what was happening anyway. At last the wagon stopped. The creaking noise of a large gate was heard and moments later they were removed from the vehicle, untied, and herded into a foul smelling room. It was dark with only mats of straw visible in the dim light. "Where are we?" she cried. A boy somewhat taller answered, "I believe we are in the Castle du Philippe."

A voice from the shadows indicated the presence of an adult, "You are correct. You have been chosen to become kitchen flies for the cooks of the chateau. Come with me and I will feed you." The five children followed the man across a small courtyard to a kitchen door where they were each given a bowl of cold porridge and a piece of bread. Before being returned to their room for the night, Nina asked the meaning of "kitchen fly", but was given no reply.

As days past, the duties of kitchen flies became habit as all manner of fetching and cleanup associated with food preparation and disposal were accomplished. In time Nina learned that the castle was actually a large villa in the mountains above her town inhabited by the du Hurst family which was comprised of a man and wife, three daughters and a son. Although no contact was permitted between the kitchen help and the family, one day the son appeared before her as she was returning from her duties. "What is your name," he inquired. "Nina," she answered without fear for even at his young age of 13 his smile was disarming. "Mine is Francois. You must come and see my horse. It will be the best one in Napoleon's cavalry. I shall one day ride into battle for the glory of France!"

"The soldiers have wrecked my home and taken my family," she stated defiantly. "You will be despised by all your victims."

He was taken aback. His dream of glory was threatened by distasteful consequences, "And what does a mere girl know of war?"

Nina thought better than to challenge his goals and responded "Only that I have felt its wrath and wish peace could become our lot." He said, "Peace is for women" and abruptly ran off.

As the time spent at Castle du Phillipe stretched into years the two teenagers became close friends, often meeting behind the kitchen for short walks or play. Nearly six years had passed when news of Napoleon's retreat from Russia reached the Castle. Soon hundreds if not thousands of bedraggled troops could be seen making their way across the Rhine Valley into the Alsace Lorraine countryside below. Late one afternoon two soldiers arrived at the Castle gate with news that Bonaparte himself would seek a brief residence there together with several of his generals. The kitchen became a flurry of activity. Nina, who had advanced in station with the help of Francois, was now the number three serving attendant. She was busy implementing the instructions of the chef du maison. Tables were set. Refreshments for late evening discussions were prepared. Several courses were heating when she first glimpsed the leader as he entered the great hall with his entourage. During the dinner his conversation was entirely focused on his generals. There was an air of desperation, but Bonaparte was clearly in command. Once finished, they retired to a study where large maps were unfurled. As Nina brought them cafe and liquer she caught a few words of dialog, "..forces must be marshaled in the west...", "...we must provide more fighting men to again suppress the German states...", "The English blockade may be broken if the Americans prevail..."

Late that night Nina could hear words spoken with the du Hursts through the kitchen door. She could make out the voice of Monsieur du Hurst saying, "No, you shall not have him." And from Madam du Hurst, "..they are but children, it could have inconceivable consequences." Somewhat later she heard, "..and if Monsieur Clay should refuse?"

As she finally retreated to her room for sleep, Nina pondered these phrases, "Who could they have meant? Why are the du Hursts involved? " After a while she drifted into slumber. An hour passed. Suddenly she was awakened by a figure shaking her arm. It was Francois! He spoke softly, "Nina, you must wake up. Pack your belongings, we must leave the castle at once. We have a mission to perform."

Chapter Three

Three days had past since the discovery of Louisa Hurst's murder. The doctor had removed the body for burial in Liverpool at the Bingley family plot. Charles and his sister had left to attend the funeral, leaving Jane at home owing to her condition. Unforturnately the constable could provide no leads not yet eliminated. An extensive search was made for Lady Catherine without success. She had apparently vanished without a trace. The "suspects" as well had all departed the manor for their residences without additional insight. It was dark outside by the time Elizabeth and William sat by the large fireplace deep in thought. The light from the fire danced about the room and a strong wind howled testifying to winter's remains.

"We must conclude that Lady Catherine was either abducted by the killer or that she herself did the job and then fled, " remarked William.

Lizzy nodded, "Or perhaps she was frightened to the point that she is still in hiding. But what business had Louisa in her room? There had been no account by anyone hearing of an intended meeting." At that moment she remembered the pendant found at the crime site. Pulling it from her pocket she asked, "William what do you make of this?" She gave him the object.

He looked surprised, "Where did you get this?"

Quickly she added, " I found it on the floor near the bed Lady Catherine's room when we first arrived that morning." He turned it over and read the inscription, "My God it is from the Man himself!" Looking at it more closely in the flickering fire light, he noticed a fine line below the emblem. With a sharp twist the two halves separated. A small tightly rolled piece of paper fell out. Darcy immediately began to unroll the thin paper into a 3 by 10 inch sheet. A fine handwriting displayed the following message:

Bonaparte Castle du Philippe

General Bonaparte, I have received your request. Secretary of War John Armstrong has dispatched a privateer under the command of Commodore Rodgers which may be expected to reach Dover on the tenth day of April. A force of fifty with the help of Minister Fouche's agent F.D. is prepared to make its way to London, raze the Parliament buildings, and be dispatched for home within a month. May this strike liberate oppressed people everywhere.

Henry Clay 14th day of March 1814

Lizzy gasped, "What can this mean? Burn down Parliament? Could the Colonials have attempted such a deed? Is this not the same plan which we carried out against their Capitol only four months later? I wonder what prevented its occurance. It must be true, for the signature is that of Henry Clay who is still the Speaker of the American House of Representatives. But who is this Minister Fouche?"

Darcy replied, "Joesph Fouche was Napoleon's Minister for Espionage. I believe that he is now in Italy, but his men were everywhere during the war. I have seen these jewelry cases before. They were used to secure passage by the French for any number of secret exchanges, but what reason on earth could Louisa have had for carrying such an article?"

Lizzy nodded again, "Perhaps it was purchased without knowing the contents. Although the inscription would hardly promote its use as an ornament. And who is 'F.D.', a French spy in London? How diverting that he would have the same initials as you."

Fitzwilliam Darcy was not amused, "It may be that the only solution to this murder will be found in the indentity of the messenger who was transporting the pendant. If Louisa Hurst was that person then the answer may be at the Castle du Philippe. I know of its location in the East of France. How would you receive the idea of a vacation from this Spring of foul weather?"

Within the space of two weeks they had left London, arrived in Paris and proceeded by carriage to the East. Lizzy's channel crossing was uneventful but not without trepidation given her experiences of a year past. Paris was chaotic. The ravages of war were evident throughout the city, especially on the faces of both young and old grimily facing lives of poverty. With some effort Darcy had secured a carriage of dubious comfort but sturdy enough for their journey. They had spent one night in the city. It was from an uptairs window of their lodging that she had noticed a gentlemen across the alleyway staring fixedly at her window. From then on she could not remove a feeling of someone's covert attention to their activities.

The French countryside still retained a good deal of charm. Rolling hills with occasional woods or farmhouses gave a sense of tranquillity Elizabeth much appreciated following the recent events. Small villages were another matter, many were deserted or offered little for the comfort of travelers. Beggars were everywhere and civility absent. At last they reached the winding road to the mountain site of the Castle. Despite the hazardous turns they reached their destination within two hours. From the gate they were escorted by a small boy to a sitting room of the chateau. The view of the valley below was breathtaking. To the east the Rhine river could be seen winding to the horizon. "A happily situated dwelling indeed," thought Lizzy.

A matron appeared, "Guten Morgen. Bitte, geben Sie mir Ihren Namen." Elizabeth looked puzzeled, had the German states now extended past the Rhine? Darcy rose, he gave her a glance, "I have some fluency in the language" and turned to the woman. Lizzy was disappointed as the conversation soon became difficult to follow and directed her attention to the furnishings of the room. After a few moments he turned back to her and said, "Apparently the family who lived here fled near the end of the war as the Prussians advanced. They have no knowlege of their whereabouts, however, there is a servant who remains from that time who we may interview."

They were led down stairs through a narrow hallway. Near the end Elizabeth stopped abruptly. There on the wall was a portrait of a man they all knew. "Look William! Is this not a good rendition of a young and thinner Arthur Hurst?" Darcy stopped and stared, he quickly said something to the matron who answered. "The name of family was 'du Hurst'. Maybe now we begin to make progress."

The servant was not conversive. He was a young Frenchman of possibly twenty years. Unfortunately he could remember little of the family as he had not been permitted direct intercourse. There was a son who he recalled had become a close friend with one of the servant girls. Her name was Nina and she had worked in the kitchen. The two of them had left the Castle quite suddenly one night as the war was ending. He had assumed that they had eloped, she being a servant unlikely to be accepted into the family. Lizzy showed him the pendant, but it was not recognized. "Too bad," she remarked, "perhaps it was a gift from Napoleon himself since we have evidence that he stayed here at one time in the Spring of 1814."

"Bonapart!" he brightened. "Yes, he was here. I saw him. He and some generals spent nearly two weeks at the house."

"And was this at the time when the son and Nina left the premises?" asked Darcy.

"I believe it was!" he was now reliving the time. "So much was happening then. We were very busy with the accommodation of the soldiers and Nina's absence made more work for us. I do remember the mother being distraught over the loss of her son. Francois, that was his name. He was always playing war games and had a magnificent horse. After the soldiers left, no mention of their visit was ever made again. There were some letters, however. I remember several trips to town to forward expresses onto Paris. I was directed to send all correspondence with the address "Colombe" to a Monsieur Lebec at Ministere des Affaires Etrangeres."

Darcy thanked the servant with a small reward. It was not a great deal of information but it provided a direction in which to proceed. Elizabeth reviewed in her mind all that she knew of Mr. Hurst's history. Very little came forward. He had always been over indulgent and intolerant of anything but his own amusement. Cards were his passion when he was sober. He seldom spoke of any issue of significance. Could it be possible that Francois and Nina were actually Louisa and Arthur Hurst?

Chapter Four

During the carriage return to Paris Elizabeth asked, "How are we to secure information on Colombe? As English citizens we cannot simply walk into the French Foreign Affairs Office and demand to know the identity of one of their spies."

"No, Lizzy," he replied, "I had thought to inquire after my 'nephew" Francois du Hurst, who has been missing since wartime. If Monsieur Lebec indicates the location of personnel files then perhaps we can return after hours to look further."

"After hours?" she smiled, "you mean to catch a spy we have to behave like spies?"

A week later they entered the huge granite and marble building situated just west of central Paris. The war had not left its mark on the aging facade, but workers were in evidence removing references to Bonaparte. Their footsteps echoed off the marble floor as they approached a receptionist and were directed to Room 37 where M. Lebec still kept office. Passing room after room, avoiding the clutter of maintenance personnel, the hallways were busy with constant traffic attentive to matters pertaining to displaced persons. Upon entering Room 37, they were greeted by an elderly gentleman seated behind a large desk. It was a large room with three tables in addition to the desk. Maps were hung on the office walls, a door with a large lock exited to the left and numerous stacks of papers covered nearly every available surface.

Darcy explained their plight. M. Lebec thereupon opened a desk drawer, extracted a wooden box and removed a set of large keys. He then excused himself, unlocked the leftward door and disappeared for a few moments. Returning empty handed he consoled that Francois du Hurst had no record of military service. This was not uncommon, however, as near the end of the war many had served Napoleon without records. Unfortunately the number of persons missing, without residence or of otherwise unknown status at this time was so large that he could not offer hope of recovery. The young man might even have left the country. With that William rose and thanked him for the information, apologized for taking up so much of his valuable time, and the two of them retreated from the room.

In the hallway, Darcy spoke, "we now know the location of the files. At midday it is the custom for the French to partake of a meal which can last up to two hours. It is probable that Lebec may leave the building. Let us wait in an inconspicuous area."

As predicted, M. Lebec left his office precisely at noon. To their relief Room 37 was unlocked and quietly, they were able to move to his desk without detection. Unfortunately the desk was locked. The left-hand drawer containing the wooden box displayed a large keyhole. The drawer directly beneath, although also locked, could be opened an inch. Darcy considered their situation, "Lizzy, I believe there is a tool box down the hall where the workers have been repairing the entrance. It would be helpful if you could locate a stiff lever." She nodded and left. He looked around the room. A map pointer of one inch thickness caught his eye. Seizing it, he inserted the staff into the bottom drawer and began to pry it forward. Suddenly it snapped, leaving a four inch protrusion blocking the top drawer's travel.

Meanwhile, Lizzy, having located the tool box, was in the process of retrieving a likely implement when footsteps were heard approaching from around the corner. Looking about, she noticed a maintenance closet, opened the door and quickly slipped inside. In a few minutes the sounds had dissipated. She then tried to exit the room but found the door now to be locked. She was trapped inside.

Darcy's frustration was mounting, having both not succeeded in reaching the wooden box and now having left evidence of their presence in the room. Again he searched the room for an implement. At last he focused on the legs of the desk chair. It was sturdy oak and offered another leverage possibility. He again wedged a chair leg into the drawer and from the front of the desk grabbed the chair and pulled. The chair suddenly released, the drawer flew across the floor, Darcy fell backward with a loud crash, papers flew everywhere. The sounds of running footfalls could be heard fast approaching. He was on his feet staring at the mess just as the door burst open. "Arretez!" they commanded, blocking the only exit.

A gendarme was summoned and William was escorted to the gendarmerie several blocks away. There he was placed in a large locked room containing perhaps fifty people. Most were beggars, unclean and milling about with threatening glances. His presence was immediately noticed with the attention commanded by his dress. William shoved several away as he made his way to a bench nearly unoccupied in a far corner of the room. One other individual sat facing away who was of improved appearance. As he sat down Darcy stopped, it was Sir Terrence Winthrop! "Winthrop what are you doing here?" he blurted.

"Darcy, my man. How good it is to see a friendly face," Sir Winthrop responded in a manner suggested that he had been recently drinking. "I am here on holiday, and last night I am afraid that I insulted my host with some ill calculated advances toward his wife. Before I knew what was happening, I was removed from the premises and deposited here. What about yourself?"

"Elizabeth and I have been hunting for clues to the demise of Louisa Bingley," he shrugged with some affected nonchalance. "The local civil servants do not take kindly to an Englishman poking into their affairs."

"Terrible business that. You have a lead then?" he asked.

"We have some suspicion that Arthur Hurst may be indirectly involved. You two are old friends, are you not?" Darcy remembered.

"I have known the man for several years," he began. "We met in '07 in London. He had a successful import business dealing mostly with the French as I recall. He spent several months over here each year. In fact, his sister lived in the Eastern mountain region which he visited on occasion. Did you discover something that might connect them to the murder?"

" We do have a clue.." he started to respond, just as the door opened, two policemen entered and his name was called. "Good luck then," Sir Terrence waved as he was escorted out.

Appearing before the magistrate, Darcy solemnly testified, " I apologize for my behaviour. The loss of my nephew has greatly disturbed me. I assure you that I am not in the habit of breaking government property and will make full amends."

The magistrate replied, " This act is indeed contemptible. However, your family name is not unknown in this country. I believe that you are a man of good principle. Therefore, we will accept your remuneration, and trust that you will leave the City immediately. Good-bye, Mr. Darcy."

"Thank you, sir," William gratefully remarked. "Your generosity is well appreciated. Oh, by the way, you have another Englishman incarcerated here. I would also beg for his release for a minor misunderstanding. A Sir Terrence Winthrop."

The magistrate turned to an officer. After a few words, he said, "We have no one by that name in custody. In fact you are the first Englishman to enter our facility in over six months."

It was dark, when a puzzled Darcy emerged from the gendarmerie and returned to their lodging. "What had become of Lizzy?" he now remembered. As he mounted the stairs to their room he could hear conversation from within. Opening the door he saw Elizabeth facing an older woman dressed in working clothes.

"William, I would like to introduce Jossette Reme," Lizzy began. "She is a cleaning lady at the Foreign Affairs building. Once she let me out of the closet we began talking and have become good friends. She informed me of your arrest and cautioned against any outside involvement. I believe she has a way that we may get into the personnel files of Monsieur Lebec.

Chapter Five

The cleaning lady had knowledge of a spare set of keys which provided access to the locked room adjacent to Room 37. They then devised a plan wherein the woman would leave the doors to both rooms unlocked after normal working hours on the following day. She also advised them of a side entrance normally accessible to the work crew after the civil servants had retired for the day. William and Elizabeth both thanked madam Reme and she departed. Darcy then related the details of his encounter with Sir Winthrop at the gendarmerie.

"Could Winthrop have slipped into the room and left without notice?" she inquired. "Or perhaps he is traveling under a French identity; yet it cannot be said that he much resembles a French tourist." Darcy would not offer speculation, he appeared to be simply well satisfied to be free of the place.

With improved success, the Darcys were able to gain access to Room 37 the following night. This time the interior locked door was also passed and they were confronted with walls of stacked boxes containing military records. After some searching, an envelope was discovered enclosing several small paper rolls similar to the one found by Elizabeth. "Come look at this Lizzy!" Darcy gestured to an opened letter from the collection. They began translating together, as they both were proficient in the language:

J. Fouche

I have dispatched Colombe to the port of Marseille where she will board the 'La Coquille" setting sail for Boston on the 13th. Once past the English blockade you may rest assured that our message will be in the hands of agent Aigle by 1 March. The return American crossing is expected to make land on 10 April near Hastings. If we succeed, agent Faucon Deux should provide safe passage to London with lodging at Rosings Park. The Mistress of the manor has confirmed a secure base from which to conduct operations. A two-three-two signal will alert your man to their arrival off-shore. May we strike for liberty.

Bonapart

"Lady Catherine, my God!" William gasped.

"We also know now that Colombe was a woman and that 'F.D.' was a code name for Faucon Deux," Lizzy added. The second paper was unrolled.

J. Fouche

Commander, we have waited every night since 5 April to no avail. The American ship has not arrived and soon we shall be forced to withdraw so as not to draw attention to ourselves at Hastings. Please advise at once regarding further action.

Faucon Deux 15 April 1814

"What became of the ship? Was is lost at sea perhaps?" she remarked. A third roll remained in the envelope:

J. Fouche

Commander, we have learned that the American ship tried to make port at Dover. The British frigate "Essex" was waiting off shore in addition to one hundred militia on land. A short battle erupted as the privateer attempted to escape. The small ship was no match for a frigate and was sunk with all hands lost. It is evident that there is a traitor among us who diverted the ship to Dover without our knowledge. If only the Americans had informed us of the change in destination we might have intercepted the ship or secured the Dover landing. It is a tragedy which shall not go unpunished.

Faucon Deux 20 April 1814

"Those poor men!" she exclaimed. "What happened to the message of Henry Clay? Why was it never delivered?"

William responded, "Apparently a forgery was sent in its place. The real message was somehow prevented from reaching Bonaparte. Yet why wasn't it burned? Its very existence suggests that Colombe herself was enroute with the missive, but was too late. But if that were true why not admit it and clear herself of blame? If Fouche suspected her of treason it would be motive enough for a murder.

Chapter Six

The La Coquille gently rocked from side to side. It had been three days since setting sail from Marseille and the trade winds were giving the fifty foot ship at least 20 knots of speed. A crew of twelve together with nine passengers were glad to be underway but anxious of the perils ahead, especially at the thought of having to run a British blockade before entering Boston harbour. Nina and Francois were given a small partitioned cabin below. The first night at sea Francois had held a quiet conversation with her after the rest of the passengers had settled into their bunks.

"Nina, I must now tell you of our mission. Napoleon himself has directed the delivery of a message to an American statesman. If we succeed in our part, it could help France win the war. We have been given a great responsibility, but there are dangers which may stop us from our mission." He pulled two pendants from an inside pocket. "You have been given the honor of carrying the actual message, I will carry a false letter, each is contained in these pieces. Your code name is "Colombe du Paix," but in public if the name "dove of peace" is spoken I will act as if I am Colombe. You must trust no one until we reach our contact in Boston. If we are ever separated, you must go to the Inn of the Black Whale on Riverfront Street and find a man named Mr. Aigle. Identify yourself as Colombe and give him the pendant. He will then arrange passage for our return voyage."

Nina felt honoured by the trust placed in her by such a great leader, but she was hesitant at the prospect of a dangerous liaison. Her knowledge of English was minimal and could not imagine how she would ever find Mr. Aigle by her own resource. She hid the pendant and pretended that they were brother and sister on an ocean voyage to vacation in America.

The passengers usually kept to themselves. In fair weather most were topside during the days which followed. One night Francois and Nina were standing near the bow, admiring the stars when a low voice was heard behind them.

"Have you the message?"

They turned to be confronted by a man of stocky frame shorter than Francois. He was dressed as a seaman but something was different from the others on board.

"What are you talking about?" Francois responded.

"My name is Jean Noire," he continued. I have been sent by Minister Fouche to insure that you reach your contact. Is it secure?"

Francois relaxed a bit, "I can assure you that it is safe" as he unconsciously reached into a pocket.

The man was persistent, "May I see it?"

Francois hesitated. This could be a trap or it might be standard procedure. Since the real message was safe, he decided to reveal the pendant. As he withdrew the object Nina noticed a small grin on the man's face. "Here it is!" Francois said with authority.

In a instant the man grabbed the boy's wrist. With the other hand he withdrew a knife and in a single motion thrust it into Francois' stomach. Nina screamed as the man shoved her to the deck. She looked up to see the man clutch the surprised youth and heave him over the side. He glanced at her but the sound of voices warned that people were climbing steps to the deck. The man paused then ran off toward the ship's stern. Nina was sobbing uncontrollably as the others approached. A man put is hands on her shoulders, "What is it girl? "

All she could manage to say was, "Francois. Overboard." The ship was brought about, but no trace was found of the young man who had wanted to be a hero.

The next two weeks were surprisingly uneventful. Nina always kept to the presence of her fellow passengers and did not see Jean Noire again. They were only two days from port when one of the sailor's posted lookout shouted, "Ship ahoy!" The passenger's attention was immediately diverted to the North, where, in the distance, the sails of an approaching British frigate were now in view.

The captain bellowed, "We must make more speed. Raise the topsail! Lighten the boat!" The deck became a flurry of activity. Everyone was throwing what they could lift overboard. Each seaman appeared intent on stretching the sails or moving them by the captain's orders. They were moving faster, but the frigate was closing! The British vessel was less than a mile away. Nina could see tiny puffs of smoke appear below the bow. They were firing!

In an instant the splash of a whistling cannonball doused the fearful passengers with spray. Nina anxiously looked to the captain. Another zinging sound passed overhead with a resounding fountain of water on the opposite side of the boat. What could be done? The ship was even closer now. Bearing down on them under full sail. It seemed hopeless.

Suddenly another, more distant, splash appeared in front of the frigate. "Are we shooting at them?" Nina started in excitement. She turned to see a second ship in the west as big as the first moving on a course to intercept. The English ship turned while firing at the other Man-of-War. It was a magnificent sight to see the American ship now in pursuit. Its black and white sides were recognized by a passenger. "It is the USS Constitution!"

The next day land was sighted and not long afterwards the grateful voyagers were disembarking into the streets of Boston. Nina was alone. She knew no one, nor could she speak their language. Sounds of conviviality could be heard from a tavern not far from the dock so she headed in that direction. She entered the building crowded with sailors and merchants alike. The smell of beer was overpowering as she may her way to the barkeeper.

"Inn of the Black Whale?" she managed to say. The reply was incomprehensible. The barkeeper looked puzzled. She said a few words in French and a man not far away looked up. He turned to her and spoke in perfect French, "Hello, my name is Terrence Winthrop, may I translate for you?"

"I wish to go to the Inn of the Black Whale, do you know where it may be found?" she said with some relief.

"The Black Whale?" he paused. "I am sorry but the Black Whale was burnt to the ground last week."

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