The Curse of Blackbane - Chapter 25

Who is that lady?

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Chapter 25

On the third morning in Charleville, Leiras awoke to find Marshall already gone from the other small bed in the room. As the man lay back in their new accommodations, he listened to the bells clanging above them. The little townhouse owned by the Church sat next door to the cathedral. Their host, a religious scholar, carried a profound interest in the monk’s travels in the Holy Land.

Leiras met Charles Dryden at the tavern during the night of heavy drinking with Marshall. The two visitors accepted the scholar’s offer to stay with him until they completed their business. In the last two days, Leiras spent most of his time regaling their host with his tales of adventures among the Ottomans. Marshall pointed out their new host was probably looking for another patron. The angel used some of their money to purchase food and wine for Dryden. He considered it a way to keep the man interested in his tales until the Duke of Sully arrived.

After struggling to get out of the sagging bed, Leiras put on his robe before heading downstairs. He found the pirate captain standing at the parlor window. Marshall remained quiet and stared at the light snow coming down outside.

Dryden was in the room as well. At his desk, the short, pudgy man wore simple black clothes. His hook-like nose wrinkled absently as he wrote in his leather journal. A precarious stack of papers shook next to him. Along the wall, shelves held his impressive array of books. When Leiras first arrived, Dryden proudly went through his display of bound writings by Church scholars.

Dryden studied and stayed in France, and his sponsor, the bishop, employed him as an archivist. However, his goal of becoming a philosopher at a university remained out of reach. The man complained to Leiras that his services mostly focused upon English translations of the great Catholic stories. When Leiras asked the reason, the man smiled.

“My bishop still hopes that the English crown will return to the Church. It’s a quite mad idea, of course. But he lets me work on my rebuttal to Jean-Pierre de Crousaz’s wretched Treatise on Beauty.”

Leiras went to the kitchen where the old woman who worked as the housekeeper and cook sighed. The gray-haired lady then pulled a plate from a shelf. The angel rubbed his palms together as he watched the woman fill his plate.

Just after Leiras finished his breakfast, a young boy wearing little more than rags arrived at the front door. He excitedly informed the lodgers that Maximilien Gabriel’s trekschuit had just landed. After receiving several copper deniers from Leiras, the skinny lad hurried away.

Dryden offered to introduce the men to Gabriel.

“You honor us, and we gladly accept,” Marshall stated from a worn chair. He noticed the excitement in their host’s offer.

“It’s time to get dressed and prepare to introduce ourselves to the duke,” the monk smiled. He watched Dryden hurry to the stairs.

“It appears our host is looking for a sponsor.” The captain nodded.

“Plus, it gives us a chance to watch their servants who’ll unload the baggage at the house.”

“I believe you have a plan that you’ve not spoken about,” Leiras started up the stairs.

“No, just working on an idea should we not persuade Gabriel to sell the relic.”

As the three men stood near the large townhome, Dryden gave them the history of the homes on the busy street. A three-story building hovered over the road, made of locally quarried stone and fronted by iron gratings under the windows.

According to Dryden, Wolfgang Guillaume Joseph Léonard Vital owned the home. The prince of Arches and Charleville seldom stayed there; instead, he and his wife lived on a nearby estate.

Outside the front door, a fashionable carriage stood empty while servants unloaded several enormous trunks from the back. After the men carried the last heavy box inside the home, the trio of men walked across the street.

The huffing servant who handled the trunks opened the door. Dryden introduced himself while Marshall noticed the bottom of a dress at the top of the stairs. After a quick explanation, the servant led the men into a library just off the main hall. As they walked inside, Marshall glanced up to see a beautiful brunette woman looking down at them. Dressed in a flowing cream silk dress and a close-fitting blue bodice that covered her upper body. The woman still had on her feathered hat. She turned away while Marshall looked up again. He went to Leiras, taking him aside.

“I shouldn’t be here. I recognized the woman at the top of the stairs, but I cannot place where I’ve seen her before.”

The angel followed the servant into the hall. When the man looked back, Leiras gave an embarrassed smile, then returned to the room. The servant closed the white doors behind the monk.

“I didn’t see her, but I’m sure it means nothing,” the angel shrugged. “Just keep by the window and see if you can remember where you know her.”

Duke Maximilien Gabriel arrived a few minutes later with his wife. They did not impress Marshall. Heavy powered makeup and white linen breeches and vest covered the man, along with an elaborate wig. Gabriel gave the captain an image of an overeager inbred fool.

A blunderbuss!

It was the term sailors gave such a man. When Marshall bowed to the duke, he caught to the cloying smell of Gabriel’s perfume.

On the other hand, when the aristocrat introduced his wife, the captain couldn’t keep his eyes from her.

Elisabeth Anne Magon di Villafranca had a charming smile and cat-like green eyes. She casually looked over at the men as Dryden introduced them. Marshall wasn’t sure, but Elisabeth’s full lips pursed slightly when the scholar told her his name in French. He saw the hint of recognition in her eyes when their eyes met again. He hastened to the front window, trying to avoid staring at the duchess.

Where the Hell do I know her from?