Chapter Two

 “A duel?” the Marquis exclaimed.

He was thinking as he spoke that it was the last thing he would have expected of Lord Seabrooke.

He remembered as Daniela was talking that he had met her father once in the Jockey Club at Newmarket and on another occasion it had been at White’s Club in London.

He had seemed a quiet middle-aged man, good-looking and with a presence which, as Daniela had described it, was that of a country gentleman.

Duels were forbidden in England, but took place secretly, although they were more common in France, usually between the extravagant rather flamboyant young Frenchmen who were over-emotional about their mistresses.

The Marquis would never have debased himself by being involved in one of these duels.

They occurred at a certain spot in the Bois de Boulogne and were continually lampooned in the French Press.

Because he realised that Daniela was looking depressed, he said quietly,

“Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t – know – exactly,” she replied, “but I am sure it was – something to do – with Madame Blanc.”

She gave a little sob before she went on,

“Whatever the reason, Papa’s opponent was – a man who is – notorious for having – fought dozens of duels and for always being – victorious.”

“And your father was killed!” the Marquis exclaimed.

This was something that very rarely happened. Usually the worst any man could expect from fighting in a duel was a bullet through the arm, which might result in his running a high temperature. He would also have to wear his arm in a sling for the next two or three weeks.

“It took me – some time,” Daniela was saying in a very low voice, “to find out what – occurred. Finally I learnt that Papa’s valet who was devoted to him had been present.”

She gave another sob as she went on,

“When the Referee called out ‘ten’, the duellers turned, Papa fired – into the air and at the – same time – faced his – opponent.”

The Marquis stared at her in astonishment.

If that had been a deliberate gesture, then Lord Seabrooke had meant to die.

“The – bullet,” Daniela continued, “entered Papa’s – chest near the heart and, when he was – taken back to the house, he – he died that – night.”

It was almost impossible for her to say the words, but she managed it.

Then with what the Marquis thought was admirable courage she wiped her eyes and without waiting for him to speak said,

“When I was – told what – had happened, I found it – hard to – believe that Papa had – really left me.

“I can understand that,” the Marquis said sympathetically.

“The Mother Superior – herself took me – into Paris and I knew when she met my stepmother that she – disapproved of her.”

The Marquis thought that this was not surprising, but he did not say so.

“Did you stay in the house or were you taken back to your school?” he asked.

“I wanted to stay with Papa and pray that he – would now be with – Mama,” Daniela replied simply, “but my stepmother – insisted that I should go – back with – the Mother Superior.”

The Marquis thought that was the first sensible thing he had heard about Madame Blanc.

Then he asked,

“But I imagine that your father was buried in England? Why did you not return there for the funeral?”

“That is just what I am – going to – explain,” Daniela responded. “It was – of course what I – intended to do, but before arrangements were made, my stepmother sent a message to the Convent to say that I was to – come to Paris – as Papa’s Solicitors were arriving from England.”

As she went on talking, the Marquis was aware that in her mind she could see it all happening again.

The Mother Superior had hastily bought her a black gown and she had been driven to the house in the Rue du Faubourg St. Honoré accompanied by Sister Teresa one of the senior nuns.

When she arrived, she had been greeted by her stepmother dressed in black, but in a very different style from what she was wearing herself.

Esmé Seabrooke’s gown had obviously been made by one of the great French couturiers and was not only extremely elegant but gave no impression of mourning.

With her face made up as it had been when Daniela had first seen her and wearing a profusion of jewels, she looked more like an actress than a widow.

She dismissed Sister Teresa in what Daniela thought was a rather rude fashion into one of the small sitting rooms and took her stepdaughter into the salon.

“Now listen, Daniela,” she began. “I have arranged for your father’s Solicitors who arrived in Paris last night to come here today to inform us of the contents of his will.”

“You must not be surprised,” her stepmother continued, “that, immediately after we were married, I saw to it that your father made a new will with generous provision for me as his wife.”

Daniela lifted her chin.

“I am sure,” she murmured, “that Papa will have done what is right and just.”

“He certainly had to be just to me,” her stepmother said sharply. “After all a man has to provide for his wife and I told your father exactly what I expected.”

She spoke in a hard voice.

Daniela knew without being told that her stepmother was resenting that, as her father’s child, she should have any of his money and wanted it all for herself.

A terrifying question came to her mind.

Had this woman persuaded her father to make a will in which she was included?

Had this woman who had married him when he was under the influence of a drug, deliberately been instrumental in involving him in the duel in which he had died?

Daniela was intelligent enough to be sure that this was the explanation or something very near it.

But as it was something that she could not prove there was no point in making a scene.

She could only pray that her father had left her enough money so that she would not be beholden to her stepmother.

She had already decided, and had talked it over with the Mother Superior, that she would return to England at the end of the term to be with her relations.

In fact the Mother Superior had said,

“If when you go over for the funeral, dear child, they ask you to stay, I think it would be best if you did not come back to the Convent.”

Daniela looked slightly surprised and the Mother Superior had gone on,

“I know that your grandparents are alive and I am certain if you talk to your grandmother that she will think it best for you to be at home with your own people.”

Daniela was then aware that the Mother Superior was saying this because she disapproved so strongly of her stepmother.

In fact she thought it would be a mistake for her to have any contact with Lady Seabrooke, as she might do if she was still at school.

“I will certainly talk it over with Grandmama when I reach England, Reverend Mother,” she replied, “and I suppose that Papa’s funeral will take place in a few days’ time.”

“I am sure that his Lordship’s Solicitors will arrange everything and you can put yourself in their hands,” the Mother Superior answered.

As she was driven to Paris, Daniela was hoping that her stepmother would make some excuse not to come to England.

She was well aware how shocked her relatives would be if they saw her.

She could not bear to think of their astonishment that her father should have married anyone who was so obviously the exact opposite to everything her mother had been.

Yet it was quite clear from the way her stepmother had just spoken to her in the salon that she intended to grasp every penny she could of her father’s fortune.

Daniela could only pray fervently that she would not be successful.

When the English Solicitors arrived, both elderly men, Daniela remembered meeting them before.

They greeted her respectfully and looked, she thought, with surprise at her stepmother.

“It is with the deepest regret,” Mr. Meadowfield said to Daniela, “that I learned of your father’s death and I can only extend to you my most sincere condolences and also those of my partner.”

“Thank – you,” Daniela murmured.

“I have asked you here this morning,” Lady Seabrooke interrupted, “not only to arrange for my husband’s body to be taken back to England to be buried in the family vault but also so that I can learn the contents of his will.”

“I have already seen Monsieur Descourt, my Lady,” Mr. Meadowfield replied, “and he should be here at any moment. As you already know, his Lordship had his last will and testament drawn up by Monsieur Descourt, who represents my firm in Paris.”

“I am aware of that,” Lady Seabrooke said sharply, “and Monsieur Descourt has also told me that my husband is to be buried in England and not, as would have been much more convenient, in Paris.”

The way she spoke told Daniela that her stepmother had already visited Monsieur Descourt with the intention of finding out the terms of her father’s will.

She would not otherwise have been aware that for generations the Brooke family had been buried in the Church on the estate.

There could be no question of her father’s body not being taken to England.

Almost as if she was saying it aloud, Daniela was aware that Lady Seabrooke was resenting the time that she thought was being wasted by the Solicitors coming to Paris.

She also resented the delay before she could learn what was in the will.

At that...