The Soldier's Dark Secret

‘Charlie will be pleased,’ Jack said.

‘Yes, but Sir Charles is easily pleased.’

Jack laughed. ‘You know perfectly well it’s good. You don’t need me to tell you that.’

‘No. But you do like it, don’t you?’

‘I do.’

Celeste smiled. Jack smiled back at her. Their eyes locked. She lifted her hand, as if to reach out for him, just as he did the same. Their fingers brushed. She turned away to sit on the window seat.

Jack leaned his shoulders against the fireplace. ‘I have news. Rundell and Bridge, the jewellers, have confirmed that your locket was purchased through them. It was a private commission, and the maker’s mark on your necklace belongs to a former senior goldsmith who has unfortunately retired to the country. However, they have written to him, enclosing a sketch of the item, and have promised to inform me as soon as they hear back from him. What they could tell me was that the stones were of the first quality. It’s an extremely valuable piece.’

‘Mon Dieu, then it is true what you said. Maman must have come from a wealthy family?’

‘It seems highly likely.’

‘Would it have been a terrible scandal then that she was enceinte and not married?’ Celeste asked. ‘Shameful enough for her family to disown her? I don’t know, you see, not really. I mean of course, in France it is not any more acceptable than in England for any young woman to have a child without a husband, though it is naturally perfectly acceptable for a man to have a child without a wife.’

‘Acceptable to some men, but we’re not all the same.’

‘You’re right. I beg your pardon. I think you must have seen much of it though? Many women have a weakness for a man in uniform, and a man in a uniform who has been away from home for a long time—bien.’

‘Bien, indeed,’ Jack said wryly. ‘I— Good Lord, why did I not think of that!’ He had pulled a velvet pouch from his pocket. Now he reached inside and took out the signet ring with the military crest on it, and stared down at it as if he had never seen it before. ‘I had a very interesting conversation with my friend Finlay Urquhart regarding this ring. It was most enlightening.’

* * *

By the time he had finished recounting his tale, Celeste’s eyes were wide with wonder. ‘So you think it’s possible that this Arthur Derwent might be my real father? Can it be true?’

‘It would explain why your mother was in possession of his ring. It’s certainly plausible, though at this stage, nothing more.’

‘So now we wait once more, on a letter,’ Celeste said.

‘Actually, there’s something else we need to do first.’

He sounded odd. Nervous? He was staring down at his boots. Definitely nervous. ‘There is?’ Celeste asked.

Jack gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Nothing terrible,’ he said. ‘At least—more tedious, really.’

‘Yes? And what is this not-terrible, tedious thing that is making you so interested in your boots?’

Jack laughed, and joined her on the window seat. ‘There’s one man who can grant me access to information regarding Arthur Derwent,’ he said, ‘and by coincidence, he’s hosting a dinner party at a house not fifty miles from here, on Saturday.’

‘Oh. So you plan to call on him there?’

‘I plan to attend the dinner party.’

‘But you— But the last time you attended a dinner...’

‘I almost fainted, I almost spilled my accounts, then the next day I blew up at my brother and his wife and fled to London,’ Jack said drily. ‘I haven’t forgotten.’

But he had managed to mention it without either anger or embarrassment, Celeste noted.

‘It was horrible bad luck,’ Jack continued, ‘the combination of the vegetable stew and the venison at Charlie’s table. I was coping. And when I was in London I decided that I wanted to see just how well I could cope.’

‘So it is another test?’ Celeste pressed his hand. ‘I think that is very brave. And a good thing. And I am very, very grateful too, but I don’t want you to do this for me, if you think...’

‘I’m doing it as much for myself as for you, Celeste. And for Finlay too. My army friend, the Scotsman I told you about. He has other business to attend to, and was eager to find someone to replace him.’

Celeste frowned. ‘So there will be— Will there be other soldiers there?’ Jack nodded. She eyed him suspiciously. ‘This person you have to speak to about the secret file, he must be very important?’ Another nod. It couldn’t be! ‘Jack, please, please don’t tell me that you are going to dinner with the Duke of Wellington.’

He grinned. ‘I’m not.’

‘Thank God,’ Celeste said, ‘I could not...’

‘I’m not,’ Jack said, ‘but we are.’

Celeste jumped to her feet. ‘Non!’ She lapsed into a stream of incoherent French. ‘No, Jack. You cannot mean it. Wellington! And this dinner— Will all the guests be soldiers?’

‘Officers and their wives.’

‘Jack, these soldiers—officers—will they be men who fought with you at Waterloo? The very battle which caused your—your...’

‘My condition, for want of a better word,’ Jack said shortly. ‘My condition,’ he repeated firmly. ‘It wasn’t at Waterloo that I— It has nothing to do with Waterloo.’