The Soldier's Dark Secret

Jack entered the salon just as Lady Eleanor was consulting the clock on the mantel for the third time. He too wore full evening dress. His hair was tamed ruthlessly, his jaw freshly shaved. The deceptively simple cut of his coat, the stark black of the silk suited him. As he strode across the room to bow over Lady Eleanor’s hand, Celeste could not help comparing the two brothers, so similarly attired, and so very different. Sir Charles was probably more classically handsome, but Jack’s imperfections, his austere countenance, were what made him, in Celeste’s eyes, by far the more attractive of the two. She remembered thinking that first day, when she had watched him swimming naked in the lake, that he looked like a man who courted danger.

Heat flooded through her. She should not be thinking of him naked, especially not when he was bowing over her hand. Celeste dipped a formal curtsy, lowering her head to hide her flush. ‘Monsieur.’

‘Mademoiselle. You look beautiful as ever.’

‘And you too look very handsome.’ Though now she studied him, she thought he looked tense. There was no time to pursue the cause of this, however, for at that moment Lady Eleanor’s footman sounded a gong, Sir Charles took his wife’s hand and led the small procession out into the hall and across into the dining room.

Jack was seated opposite her. Sir Charles led the conversation which was primarily concerned with previous haunches of venison and the large parties at which they had been consumed.

‘I hope you’ve not deprived your neighbours of their annual treat on account of me,’ Jack said to Eleanor. ‘After all, it’s not as if I’ve been able to attend more than twice in the last dozen years, while they looked forward to it every year.’

‘Well, to be honest, Jack, we did not think—’

‘What Eleanor means is that we thought it would be cosier to keep it to just the family,’ Sir Charles interrupted hurriedly.

Jack put down his wine glass carefully. ‘Cosier,’ he said with a cold smile. ‘I see.’

Sir Charles rubbed his hands together. ‘Good. Excellent. It is— You must know, Jack, it is good to see you at the table.’

‘You fret about me too much, Charlie.’ Jack pushed his glass aside. ‘I’ve heard reports in the village that it’s going to be a bumper harvest. What do you say?’

His brother was no fool, but as he was, Celeste had noted several times, most definitely a man who avoided confrontation, he was therefore happy to be diverted. Lady Eleanor’s footmen brought in a procession of side dishes. Her ladyship supervised the placing of each, and the brothers chatted about crops. At least, Sir Charles talked, and Jack prompted, saying just enough to keep the conversation ticking over.

The first of the side dishes was already going cold when the door was held open by one footman, and two more entered the dining room bearing an enormous copper platter. Celeste, who was by now rather hungry, felt her mouth watering. The aroma coming from the venison was delicious. The meat looked succulent. Across from her, she caught Jack’s hand curling tightly around the stem of his glass, though he quickly put it down when he noticed her watching him.

She couldn’t understand what was wrong with him. The platter was placed in front of Sir Charles, who made a great show of sharpening the carving knife on a steel before picking up the fork. Blood and juices trickled from the roast haunch as he began to carve through the charred skin.

A footman placed a side dish in front of Jack. A silver tureen containing vegetable broth of some sort, redolent with the herbs of Provence. Surprised, Celeste turned to Lady Eleanor. ‘What is that dish? It smells exactly like home,’ she said.

‘Indeed,’ her ladyship said, gratified. ‘I had cook concoct it as a small gesture to make you feel welcome. I discovered it in a receipt book belonging to Sir Charles’s mother. She was Scottish, you know. I believe the Scots have a great affinity with you French. The Auld Alliance, I believe it is—good heavens, Jack, what on earth is the matter?’

He had turned a deathly pale. As he pushed his chair back, he caught the dish of broth and sent it flying from the footman’s hand. Jack got to his feet, clutching the table and swaying. His skin now had a greenish hue. He was staring at the venison, his eyes dark with horror.

‘Dear lord, I think he is going to be ill, Charles,’ Lady Eleanor exclaimed, turning rather green herself. ‘Charles. Charles!’

Her husband jumped to his feet at the same time as Celeste pushed back her chair and got to hers. Jack swayed. He looked as if he was about to crumple, but when his brother tried to put his arm around him, he swatted it away and began to lurch for the door, his mouth over his hand. Celeste reached him as he clutched the handle. He pushed her to one side and threw himself out into the hallway and from there out of the front door and into the night air.

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