Heart of Gold

At the end of the room, he paused before turning. Just inside the door, Caroline stood, her face pale. 'The poor, poor people,' she whispered. 'Can't we do anything for them?'

Aubrey shook his head. He needed more time to refine the crude method he'd used on Bernard. 'They're not lost. Not yet.'

'But they're not here, either.' She shuddered. 'What a nightmare.'

Aubrey could hardly look at them. 'We'll do what we can for them.'

Caroline's face hardened. 'We must stop this man.'

'Yes.' Their eyes met. He saw her rage, her determination and he was united in purpose with her. 'We will.'

Eighteen

MRS HEPWORTH STRETCHED OUT ON THE DIVAN. 'So you're a Holmland spy?' she said to von Stralick, who was perched on the edge of one of the armchairs. He had a cup of tea in his lap and he was stirring it vigorously, despite not taking any sugar. 'Tell me more. I haven't met a Holmland spy before.'

'That you know about,' George pointed out. 'Clever chaps, spies. Some of them.'

She smiled, radiantly. 'Quite right, George. We've had any number of Holmlanders through our artistic salons back in Albion. And while I've been here in Lutetia . . . Well. It's enough to say that Holmlanders have been dying for an invitation to our circle.'

It gave Aubrey great pleasure to see von Stralick goggle-eyed. He was pleased he wasn't the only one to be disarmed by a Hepworth female.

'Of course any Holmlander would be eager to be in your presence, Mrs Hepworth,' von Stralick managed, which Aubrey thought quite good going.

'Ophelia, please.'

'Ah. Of course. Ophelia.'

On the other side of the room, sitting in a wicker armchair next to a vase of blue irises, Caroline hid her amusement behind a hand for a moment before becoming serious. 'Now, Aubrey, what did Inspector Paul say when you rang him?'

'He was grateful to know about Farentino's lair, and he promised to take good care of the unfortunates we found.' He shuddered at the memory, and then wondered if he should have told Inspector Paul about how he'd managed to restore Bernard's soul. He shook his head as the old music hall joke came to him: 'The operation was a success, but the patient died.' Aubrey wanted to do some more research before he tried his rough and ready method of soul restoration again.

Caroline studied him carefully. He let her. 'You don't like relying on other people, do you?'

'I don't mind. I just prefer to do things myself. It's more . . .'

'Dependable?'

'Predictable.'

'I see.' She sat back and crossed her arms. 'I have an invitation to the embassy ball, you know.'

The change of subject was so abrupt that Aubrey thought he heard a screeching noise as they switched conversational tracks. 'You do?'

'I thought you should know. Your mother sent me one, knowing how I feel about such matters. Pining away, waiting to be invited? What an antiquated attitude.'

'Of course,' he said, and was pleased at such an innocuous response. He thought he was coping well after such a surprising announcement. 'Terribly old-fashioned, that sort of thing.'

'Good.' Caroline sat back. 'I'm glad you agree.'

Von Stralick caught Aubrey's eye. 'Your police officer friend is apprised now?'

Aubrey dragged his attention back to weightier matters. 'Yes. He's having trouble of his own, though. With factions.'

'So I am not alone? Good.' Von Stralick stood and bowed first to Mrs Hepworth, then to Caroline. 'I must go. I am glad we are united in this affair.'

'Working together, I'd say,' said Aubrey, 'rather than united.'

'It's a practical arrangement,' George added.

Von Stralick stared at George, then nodded. 'It will suffice. Please, I can see myself out.'

Mrs Hepworth watched him go. 'Charming, if a bit stiff. But then again, he is a Holmlander.'

'Mother,' Caroline huffed.

'I know, darling, I'm bandying about a stereotype. Still . . .'

WHEN AUBREY AND GEORGE WOKE FROM A PRECIOUS FEW hours' sleep, Madame Calvert was waiting for them at the foot of the stairs. Despite her efforts to disguise it, she looked impressed. 'This came for you, early.'

She handed Aubrey a heavy, cream envelope. It had Prince Albert's seal on it.

'Thank you, Madame,' Aubrey said.

She didn't move away.

'Er. Is there any chance of a late breakfast?' he asked.

'Any of those delicious chocolate whatnots?' George added.

'Do you know Prince Albert?' Madame Calvert asked Aubrey.

Aubrey struggled with a number of possible replies before deciding on the simplest. 'Yes.'

'They're related,' George said, 'and Aubrey saved his life a while ago.'

Madame Calvert tapped her cheek with an elegant finger and studied Aubrey for a moment. 'In Gallia, we have no kings any more. Not since the revolution. It is held to be a good thing.'

I think we have a closet royalist here, Aubrey thought. 'Gallia has thrived as a republic.'

'Despite being a republic,' Madame Calvert said. 'Look at those in charge at the moment. Incompetents, buffoons and criminals.'

'That's a bit harsh,' George said. 'I mean, buffoons?'

'Two ministers resigned yesterday, both exposed as being corrupt. The government is hanging on by a thread.' She sighed. 'No stability. No continuity.'

'I see,' Aubrey said, fascinated. He tapped the envelope with his forefinger. 'Are there many who think like you?'

'Think like me? Clearly, with a notion of history and what it means to be Gallian?'

'Something like that.'

'Some. Quite a few.'

'Thank you, Madame. You've been most helpful.'

Aubrey swept toward the breakfast room with George in tow.

'What was that all about?' George muttered once they were seated. He spread a perfectly starched napkin on his lap.

'Royalists, George. Even though it's been two hundred years since they cut off the head of their last king, there are still quite a few in Gallia who would like to see a return to a monarchy.'

'How can they when they dispatched their last one so irretrievably?' George took a roll from the basket on the table.

'Relatives, George, line of succession. Given half a chance, they'll dig out some long-lost cousin, Count of this or that, Baron someone-or-other, pop a fancy hat on him and shove him on the throne.'

'Solemn stuff, this kingship business.' George broke the roll in half and devoured it in two bites.