Nettie’s Secret

‘Will you stay with him while I get some fresh air?’ Nettie rose to her feet. ‘It’s so stuffy in here.’

‘You mustn’t worry, Nettie. We’ll sort something out.’

She flashed him a grateful smile as she left the saloon and went out on deck. The wind whipped around her, dragging strands of hair from beneath her bonnet and tugging at her skirt. The sea was choppy and the paddle steamer ploughed through the waves, churning up the water and sending plumes of spray into the air, drenching the unwary. People hurried for the shelter of the saloon or down the companionway to the lower deck where cabins were available for those who could afford to pay extra. Nettie staggered as the vessel pitched and she collided with someone who had come up behind her.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said breathlessly as she attempted to stand unaided, but the ship yawed and she would have fallen if he had not grasped her firmly.

‘Well, then. I didn’t expect to find you here, Miss Carroll. Least of all being thrown into my arms.’

Nettie reached out and grabbed the ship’s rail. ‘Duke!’

‘Hush! Not so loud, Nettie, my dear. I’m incognito for reasons that you will appreciate.’

‘You’re on the run from the police and so is my pa, thanks to you.’

‘Now, now, that’s not fair. I didn’t force Robert to work for me. He was eager to earn money and I put him in the way of several decent commissions. I was informed on by a man who has a personal grudge against me and will stop at nothing until he sees me ruined.’

‘What you did was illegal,’ Nettie countered. ‘You used my father’s talents to make money for yourself.’

‘That, my dear, is business.’ He eyed her curiously. ‘What I don’t understand is why you chose to accompany him. Haven’t you any relations who would take you in and look after you?’

‘I’m not a child, Duke.’

‘Quite.’ He shrugged and turned away. ‘Well, good luck. That’s all I can say.’ He turned back to give her a quizzical smile. ‘But what will you do when the money runs out? Will you beg on the streets or sell yourself in order to keep your feckless father in comfort?’

‘Neither,’ Nettie said angrily. ‘We’ll find a way.’

He hesitated, frowning. ‘I suppose I do bear some responsibility for what has happened to you, although it pains me to say so. I must be getting soft in my old age.’

Suddenly curious, Nettie gave him a searching look. ‘You can’t be more than thirty-five.’

‘As a matter of fact, I’m thirty-four. Riotous living must be starting to mar my good looks.’ He put his hand in his breast pocket and took out a silver card case. He flicked it open and produced a gilt-edged visiting card. ‘This is the one I use when in Paris. You will see that I go by the name Gaillard when in France. I have many identities, Nettie, but if you are in trouble you can find me at this address. I might even have work for your father, if he’s so minded.’ Duke walked away, adapting to the movement of the ship as if he had spent his life at sea.

Nettie tossed the card overboard, but the wind caught it and deposited it at her feet. Despite her misgivings, she bent down, picked it up and tucked it in her reticule. Duke Dexter was on the run just the same as they were, but Marc Gaillard, the Parisian art dealer, might be useful, if they were desperate.

She felt a sudden change in the tone of the ship’s engine and she caught sight of land. She hurried back to the saloon to tell her father and Byron that they were nearing Calais, but she would keep Duke’s presence on board a secret.

Robert had changed his mind about staying the night in Calais, or perhaps Byron had changed it for him, but in the end they took the train to Paris. It was an uneventful and reasonably comfortable journey, and when they reached their destination Robert insisted on hiring a fiacre to take them to Montmartre, where he was convinced he would meet like-minded people and his talent would be recognised. He seemed to be happy to sit back and allow Byron to do all the talking, and Nettie was quietly impressed by her friend’s fluent French as he told the cab driver where they wanted to go. They were dropped off in a quiet backstreet close to a small square filled with flower stalls, fruit sellers and cafés where people sat at small tables in the shade of trees, which were bursting into leaf.

Byron paid the driver. ‘He says we can get cheap lodgings here,’ he said as the fiacre pulled away from the kerb.

Robert held out his arms, smiling as he took deep breaths of the air scented with French tobacco, wine and garlic, which barely masked the smell of drains and overflowing privies.

‘I am in my spiritual home,’ he said gleefully. ‘It is here, in Paris, that I will do my best work. I was duped by Duke Dexter, but now I am free from his demands, and I will start afresh.’

Nettie said nothing, but the cab had driven along the street named on Duke’s visiting card and she was uneasy. The last thing she wanted was for her father to get involved with the man who had led him into crime in the first place. It would be all too easy for him to go that way again when their money ran out, but she decided to talk it over with Byron at the first opportunity. Their most pressing need was for somewhere to stay, and Byron was making enquiries at the door of a house with a sign in the window advertising vacancies.

‘Byron is a handy chap to have around,’ Robert said grudgingly. ‘I wouldn’t have chosen him as a travelling companion, but he’s proving useful.’

‘We would be in a pickle without him, Pa. I can’t speak a word of French, and neither can you.’

‘I know how to communicate with people, Nettie. But we’ll put up with him for a while and then he can go on his way. I don’t want you getting too close to a fellow who has little or no prospects.’

Nettie stared at him, speechless. It was on the tip of her tongue to remind Pa that he was the fugitive from justice and Byron was here to help them, but she knew it would be futile. Once her father had an idea in his head it was almost impossible to make him see reason.

‘She has two rooms,’ Byron said as he hurried back to them. ‘They’re in the attic, but she says there’s another couple who are interested so we have to give her an answer right away.’

‘The woman is probably bluffing.’ Robert was about to walk away when Nettie caught him by the sleeve.

‘It’s getting late, Pa. We need to have somewhere to sleep.’ She turned to Byron. ‘How much rent is she asking?’

‘About twice as much as we were paying Ma Burton.’

‘Daylight robbery,’ Robert said, frowning. ‘We’ll look elsewhere.’

Nettie tightened her grip on her father’s arm. ‘Think about it, Pa. If we can’t find somewhere quickly we’ll have to pay for three hotel rooms. What would that cost?’

‘All right.’ Robert gave in graciously. ‘We’ll take the rooms for a week, and in the meantime we can look for something more reasonable.’ He picked up the bag containing his paints and brushes, leaving Byron to carry his case. ‘Lead on. I want to see what you’ve let us in for, Mr Horton.’

‘I’d remind you that you are the one fleeing the law, Mr Carroll. And since you cannot speak the language you are at a definite disadvantage.’ Byron dropped the suitcase at Robert’s feet. ‘I came as a friend, not as a servant.’ He took Nettie’s valise from her hand and led the way into the house.

‘You asked for that, Pa,’ Nettie said softly. ‘Don’t underestimate Byron, and remember that we need him if we’re to get on in this country.’

‘When I want your opinion I’ll ask for it.’ Robert stomped past her and followed the landlady up the stairs.

Madame was not a young woman, but she was obviously used to negotiating five flights of steep stairs and she was barely out of breath when they reached the attics. Robert, however, was red in the face and gasping for breath. Nettie’s knees were aching, but she could see that her father was genuinely suffering.

Madame unlocked the door and ushered them into the room. She addressed Byron, speaking rapidly and waving her hands about as if conducting an invisible orchestra.

‘She wants a week’s rent in advance and she’s put the price up,’ Byron said hastily. ‘I think she suspects something, so it might be as well to pay her and keep her happy.’

‘Blackmail is the same in any language.’ Robert took a leather pouch from his pocket and handed it to Byron. ‘Pay the old hag, but we won’t be staying here for long. That I promise you.’ He glanced around the low-ceilinged room with bare floorboards and the minimum of furniture.

All smiles now, Madame left them, closing the door behind her.

‘I get the feeling she’s had the best of that deal,’ Byron said grimly.

Nettie examined the iron bed with a thin flock-filled mattress, and the washstand with a cracked basin and a jug with a chipped handle. A single chair and a low table were the only other items of furniture, and it was much the same in the larger room, although it boasted a double bed and two chairs. She was quick to notice that one of them had a broken leg.

‘How am I supposed to work here?’ Robert demanded. ‘I suppose I will have to let you share with me, Horton, unless you can persuade Madame to supply another bed.’

Nettie turned on him, frowning. ‘Stop complaining, Pa. At least we have a roof over our heads, and it gives us time to look round for something better. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Robert said apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, Nettie. I am being selfish and thoughtless. Let’s try that café we saw in the square. Maybe I can drum up some custom for sketching portraits in charcoal. That means cash on the nail.’

Nettie shook her head. ‘Pa, you’re unbelievable.’

‘I’ll take that as a compliment, my dear,’ Robert said, smiling. ‘Lead on, Horton. No hard feelings, old man. We’re in this together now and I’m very grateful to you for using your linguistic abilities to our advantage.’