We are only falsehood, duplicity, contradiction; we both conceal and disguise ourselves from ourselves.
Gladys Deacon put down her pencil and stared, frowning, at her third attempt at writing a note. The handwriting sloped crookedly across the page, she had misspelled two of the words, and the bottom of the paper was smeared with something that seemed to be blood but was really only the juice of a ripe strawberry. It certainly looked convincing, but was it? Would Marlborough be taken in by it? Did he care enough to pay the ransom? How much did he care?
If you want to see Miss Deecon alive, you’ll pay. Five thousand quid, for a start. And not a word to the coppers, or give her up for a goner.
Gladys got up, went to the shelf where she’d put her small supply of food, and took down a loaf of bread, a pot of butter, a slab of cheese, a knife, and an earthenware plate. She could have purchased anything the Woodstock shops had on offer, of course, or she could have gone to one of the local pubs for a meal. Dressed as she was in trousers and a jacket, her hair pinned up firmly under a cap, she was in no danger of being recognized. But it suited her, while she was staying in this rustic woodsman’s cottage at the very edge of the Blenheim estate, to eat like a woodsman: plain, solid, nourishing food, no frills, no fancies. She had found a rabbit snare in a shed-why, she might even set it and trap a rabbit to roast on the spit in the fireplace.
But she wouldn’t be staying here long, Gladys reminded herself with a brief smile. Tonight, she’d give a village lad a shilling to deliver the note, and then She stopped, frowning. Where should she tell Marlborough to leave the money? And in what form? Coins were too bulky. Bank notes were better-a thousand five-pound notes would easily fit into a valise.
But where should he be instructed to put it? A busy place, where there was a great deal of commotion, and where she could watch from a distance to find out whether he cared enough to pay the money to insure her release from the appalling criminals who had abducted her. But where?
And then she thought of it, and smiled at the amusing irony. Fair Rosamund, the name of the locomotive that pulled the railway train to Kennington. Marlborough could put a satchel containing the bank notes on the train-of course, she’d add that instruction to the note. No doubt he would employ several private inquiry agents to ride the train and pounce on whoever picked it up. If some hapless person were so unfortunate as to look inside the bag, there would be a great commotion and he would be hauled off to jail.
She sighed. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t be there to see all the fuss, for she wouldn’t be riding the train. She didn’t give a fig for the money, of course; she only cared that Marlborough loved her enough to pay for her release. In the safety of her disguise, she would enjoy watching him put it on the train, and after that, it was no business of hers. After that, she would hide herself away in France for a week or so, selling Botsy’s grandmother’s diamond necklace to fund her stay, then reappear at Blenheim just as the Royal entourage descended on the palace. Marlborough would tell her how deliriously happy he was that she was safe, and she would tell him what a narrow escape she had had. And it would be immediately clear to everyone, including the King and Queen, exactly what her position was with the Duke.
Gladys’s smile grew wider, and she sat down to her simple meal with a genuine enthusiasm. Her position with the Duke, indeed! She had been only fourteen when Marlborough had engaged himself to Consuelo, in October of 1895. She had read the stories in the newspapers-really, the entire world had been full of the news! — and it had so entirely captured her imagination that it came to obsess her. Unable to think of anything else, she had written to her mother,
I suppose you have read about the engagement of the Duke of Marlborough. O dear me if I was only a little older I might catch him yet! But alas I am too young though mature in the arts of woman’s witchcraft and what is the use of one without the other? I suppose I will have to give up all chance to ever get Marlborough.
Remembering her childish letter, she laughed aloud, for she had never given up the chance to get Marlborough, and when she understood that his marriage to Consuelo was no bar, she had done exactly as she’d intended: She had got him. And she had him still, she told herself triumphantly, for even though Consuelo had given him an heir, she could not give him what he wanted most, love and adoration and At the sound of wheels crunching in the gravel outside the door, Gladys felt suddenly alarmed. She pushed her plate aside and stood up. The cottage was abandoned, Consuelo had told her, when they had passed it on one of their drives in the electric motor car; no one had lived here for some years, nor was expected to, since the fields to which it was attached had been sold. So who The door opened without a knock and Consuelo came in, followed by Lady Sheridan.
“Hello, Gladys,” Consuelo said calmly enough, although the two red spots high on her cheeks betrayed her feeling. “I thought we might find you here.” She smiled slightly. “What a charming costume, my dear. Men’s clothing suits you, I must say.”
“Hel… hello, dear Connie,” Gladys said, forcing herself to smile. “I… I didn’t expect-”
She reached for the unfinished ransom note on the table, but she wasn’t quite quick enough.
Lady Sheridan had it, read it at a glance, and handed it to the Duchess, who read it and folded it carefully, tucking it into her sleeve. “I think I had best keep this,” she said. “I daresay you won’t be wanting to use it, after all.”
Gladys tossed off a light laugh. “It’s just a harmless little joke, you know, dear Connie. Only a prank. You know how I love jokes. Of course, I wouldn’t have taken the money. You and Marlborough would have gotten it back, and we’d all have had a good laugh together-”
“No doubt,” the Duchess said, holding herself in a regal posture, looking at Gladys with distaste as if she were an errant child-no, worse, someone for whom she had no use and no liking. “No doubt we would have laughed ourselves into hysterics at this shabby little bit of trickery, Gladys. And when we were quiet and calm again, I’m sure you would have thought of something else to liven things up.”
“Oh, yes,” Gladys said quickly. “I love Blenheim, you know, but it is awfully dull at times.”
“I know exactly how you must feel,” said the Duchess, her voice full of significance. “That’s why I think it’s time that you went back to Paris, my dear. Or Rome, if that’s your pleasure.” She glanced down at the watch pinned to her lapel. “In fact, I believe there’s just time to get you to the station so that you can catch the one o’clock train.” She looked up at Lady Sheridan. “Don’t you agree, Kate?”
Gravely, Lady Sheridan nodded.
“Oh,” cried Gladys, “but I have no suits or gowns or-”
“No matter,” Consuelo said, smiling gaily. “You can travel as you are-you make quite a handsome young man. I’ll have your wardrobe packed and sent to you. It will be there almost as soon as you are.”
“But… but I want to say goodbye to Marlborough,” Gladys cried, knowing that although the Duke might be angry at her for deceiving him, he wouldn’t stay angry for long. He would “I don’t think that’s wise,” Lady Sheridan said firmly. “You see, there has been quite an upset while you were gone. A housemaid has been found dead, a man has been shot, and a ring of jewel thieves has been discovered.” She cleared her throat delicately. “And there is some suggestion, I’m afraid, that you might have been involved in it. The Duchess and I are sure that it’s a mistake, but you do see the difficulty, don’t you? Poor Lord Northcote’s diamond necklace is gone, which makes it seem that you might be one of the thieves.”
“Oh, but that’s absurd!” Gladys exclaimed. “Totally, entirely absurd!”
“Oh, I’m sure,” the Duchess replied. “However, it might be a good idea if I returned Lord Northcote’s jewels to him. He really is quite concerned.”
Gladys flushed. She had not intended to return the necklace, but now it seemed that she had no choice. And no choice but to get on the train, either. As she went to get the necklace, she cast a hard look at Lady Sheridan. She was the one who had turned the Duchess against her, and the Duke, too. It was all her fault.
“Here you are,” Gladys said, putting the necklace into the Duchess’s hands. She gave her a hard look. “This will change things, you know, Consuelo. Between us, I mean. You and me. It will be open warfare now. And in the end, I will get him.”
“Of course you will,” the Duchess said gently. She smiled, and there was a genuine compassion in her voice. “I am very sorry for you, Gladys. He will not make you happy.”
“P’rhaps not,” Gladys said, stung. “But there is always Blenheim.”
“Indeed,” said the Duchess. “There is always Blenheim.”