Page 55 of A Noble Affair
His son pulled back, his face white. “He threatened me. He told me if I didn’t want him to come and tell you, I needed to do him a favor.” Louis cried out when he saw his father about to protest, “I should have told you.”
“Always, always tell me, Louis,” his father said, agonized. “I can protect you from people like that. So you didn’t do the favor then?”
“No, I did, Papa. That’s what I wanted to tell you. He wanted me to get an old leather pouch of gardening tools from the basement that he said belonged to his uncle. So I went and got it and gave it to him. Then I told him I didn’t want to meet him anymore. I wanted to get on with my life. He let me go.”
Charles stood suddenly. “Show me where you found the tools.” He led the way towards the door and strode down the hallway with his son in train. When they reached the musty corridor in the basement, Louis pointed to where he had retrieved the tools. Though he knew he wouldn’t find anything there, Charles reached up and felt for a clue. In silence, he made a quick tour of the rest of the basement, but it was too large to go over thoroughly, and he didn’t see anything out of place.
As he was walking through one of the rooms, the iron gate caught his eye on his left, and he walked over to it and shook the gate. It was locked and did not budge. “I don’t even know where the key to this thing is, but in any case the old tunnel has been sealed on both sides.” He faced his son. “Did you look at the tools before you handed them over?”
“Yeah. I took each one out, but they were just regular tools. There was nothing there.”
“Regular gardening tools?” Charles exhaled. Turning back towards the stairs, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I don’t understand this, but we don’t have time to worry about it today. There’s too much to do.” He jogged up the steps. “Have you eaten lunch?”
“Oui, Papa.”
“Okay, can you take a look at where they’re setting up the fireworks and see if the new gardener has any questions?” They had reached the top of the stairs, and Charles paused.
“Sure.” Louis shifted, ill at ease. He seemed startled when his father pulled him into a hug.
“This is no longer your problem, it’s ours,” Charles said, holding him tight. Louis remained stiff for just a moment before hugging him back. Then Charles let go and started to walk away. After a few paces, he spun around. “Hey. Do you have a date for tonight?”
“No.” Louis’s expression was still troubled but his lips quivered towards a smile. “But I have a date for the waltz.”
“Smart girl.” Charles smiled broadly and started to walk away again.
“Papa,” Louis called out and he turned back once more. “Are you bringing anyone?”
Now Charles was the one shifting uncomfortably, though the corner of his mouth lifted. “Eh…how well do you like your English teacher, Mademoiselle Whitmore?”
“Miss Whitmore? Uh…I thought it might be her. It’s a little weird, but I’ll try and get used to it.” Louis gave a crooked grin.
“I’m picking her up in two hours if I can manage to get everything done. Now off with you. Go help me with the fireworks, at least.” His son raced off, reminding him of the boy he was not all that long ago. Charles grabbed his phone, and hit one of the contacts.
“Hi, Jef. Aren’t you supposed to be here already?”
“I’m a block away. Be there in a minute.” With that cryptic reply the phone went dead. Charles hurried to the second floor where the Chief of Police had been closeted with Thierry and Paltier. A team of casually-dressed workers were rushing from one room to the next with large vases of fresh flowers, cases of champagne or wine glasses, and small plates for theamuses-bouches.
There would be oysters and lemon, smoked salmon on buttered toasts, leaves of endives with soft cheese and caviar, Russian blinis with creamed tarama, stuffed quail eggs, and toasted baguette slices with fig jam and foie gras. Two burly men were setting up the ice fountain in the middle of theMaréchal Lannesapartment. There was a security guard in every room of the château to keep an eye on the workers.
As Charles made his way back towards the gallery, he spotted Paltier and signaled to him. His butler left the police chief with Thierry and hurried over to the viscount’s side, following him down the stairwell.
“Paltier,” Charles said finally, after they had gone down a flight.
“Oui, monsieur.”
“Have I told you I’m giving you a week off after this event is over? You’ve really outdone yourself.”
His faithful retainer gave a prim smile. “That will be most welcome, monsieur.”
As they passed the front gate the door opened, and Jef entered, elegantly attired. Adelaide, Isabelle, and Samuel spilled in behind him. “Now I know why you were late.” Charles shot him a wry look. He kissed his sister and niece and shook hands with Jef and Samuel.
“Why stick to business when you can mix it with pleasure?” Jef replied, with unshakable good humor.
“Adelaide, I was going to call you—” Charles paused, smiling. “I see you finally met my intern.”
“Yes. Isabelle managed to overcome her shame of me and introduce us at last,” his sister replied, in placid good humor.
“Maman.”
