in London. When there is no food, they have nowhere to turn. Their faith, which is a comfort, is denied them, or at least highly discouraged.” So I understood from all I’d read of Ireland plus conversations I’d had with servants who hailed from there.
“Exactly. Are you a Catholic, Mrs. Holtmann?”
“Oh, I . . .” I glanced nervously at the door behind her.
“I understand. It’s a risky thing to be, even these days. It’s no longer forbidden to be of the true faith, but it can be a social death knell. I advise you to keep it to yourself, as I do.”
“Yes, indeed.”
“My mother was Catholic, you see. My father attended the Church of Ireland, but my mother secretly converted him. She was the daughter of one of my grandfather’s tenants, and she and my father married when they fell madly in love. Do you know how she died? An English soldier came upon her one evening as she walked and, mistaking her for a peasant, tried to force himself upon her. When she fought him, very hard by the look of things, he killed her. She had her revenge though. When she was dying, she wrested his pistol from him and shot him through the heart.”
The duchess smiled proudly and drank more tea.
“I am so sorry, Your Grace,” I said in a near whisper. To live through such things would unhinge my mind. I had the feeling it had unhinged hers.
“The duke met me after my home was burned. I was rather frenzied, as you can imagine. He nursed me, fell in love with me, and I married him. He is a rather weak man, John is. But I am not weak.”
I saw in a flash what she meant. The kind-looking, tiny woman with the warm smile had her iron fist around the duke. Instead of being a deliberate traitor to his country, he was under the thrall of this woman and could not resist her.
“I found my revenge,” the duchess continued. “I had won the heart of a duke, one of the highest men in Britain, prominent in their government. He had plenty of money and influence and no idea what to do with either. I told him. He knew my story and sympathized, as you do, and he has helped men and women in Ireland plan and act for the day we throw off our shackles. It won’t be long now.” She heaved a sigh and set down her tea, the wild light in her eyes fading.
“Thank you for letting me unburden myself to you, my dear. You are very easy to speak to. Give me the four thousand guineas now, please—less embarrassing than negotiating with my husband, who will prevaricate and say everything but what he means. So tiresome.” She leaned to me conspiratorially. “I will tell you that the necklace is worthless, but it is a good pretense as to why you are giving us the money. The vicar has no idea it’s only paste, but that’s the English clergy for you. Fools, the lot of them, and they are supposed to lead us to salvation.”
I picked up my tea and took a casual sip. I certainly did not have four thousand guineas in my pocket, and I cast about for what to tell her.
“The money is at my hotel,” I said carefully. “I wanted a look at the necklace first.”
“Ah well.” The duchess waved her hand. “We can send for it.” She rose to reach for a bell sitting on a table near the fireplace.
Blast. If she summoned her footman, what would I tell him? There was no hotel, no cash for him to run for. I toyed with the idea of directing an errand runner to Miss Townsend’s house instead. She was a quick thinker and could decide what to do.
Before the duchess reached the bell, she glanced behind her and saw my face. She stilled.
This woman had lived her entire life with subterfuge, secretly funding societies through her husband to take her vengeance on those who’d murdered her mother and destroyed her father. She had believed my story and Daniel’s thus far, but my indecisiveness must have shown in my expression in one unguarded moment.
“You bloody . . .” The duchess broke off her snarl and ran for the door at the back of the room.
If she got through it, if she summoned her husband and whatever servants were within shouting distance, she’d expose me, and through me, Daniel and Mr. Fielding.
At