At London Palace...


Chapter fifty five: London Revelations


London. Friday the eleventh September.


Duchess Waintree was very satisfied with her little visit at the Gardiners.

The two girls had the Gift as well as their cousins and aunt. She had looked in the archives of the sorority and never had she found a mention of that particular strain. Quite a surprising fact that such an interesting family had been able to lie low for such a long time and never showed the least trace of the way…

Until now! Because it was very clear to the Duchess that all Bennet daughters were, if correctly taught, able to master it.

Emma and Alicia Gardiner were too young to be sure about their potential but they had it too.

She sighed unhappily.

It was a shame that the eldest would not be able to be shaped to enter the sorority. But with such a protection nobody could force them into anything they didn't want…

And with their husbands there was nothing the sorority could propose that could convince them of the interest of the way.

Duchess Waintree forced herself to think differently.

Times were a changing and it would perhaps be necessary to adjust the sorority's behavior to new facts and new realities.

Perhaps it would be possible to appear in a different light now that REASON had begun to replace blind faith… But going too fast would not be an intelligent move as the disastrous results of the American Branch's actions had shown a few decades ago.

Religious tolerance was clearly not enough to guarantee the safety of the members.

Secrecy would stay at the center of the sorority's philosophy. But perhaps some actions could be tried to gain a better access to some sort of acceptation.

She sighed once more and shook her head.

She would have to take a risk.

No choice there.

She looked at her driver.

"Let's go to the Palace, Ignaz. We have to make an important call."


"Duchess Waintree?" d'Arcy looked up and frowned.

What could she want? He had, before letting her home at Lydia's request, made a rapid investigation on her and even if the circumstances which had given her access to a title and a fortune could be considered as unusual, there had been nothing particularly intriguing in what his agents had found of her life.

"And she says it's important?"

"Indeed, monsieur," answered Benevento, his personal man servant for quite a few years now. "And she came directly to me…"

And so chose to went over all the barriers a well oiled bureaucracy could build in front of men of Power.

D'Arcy sighed. He had a feeling… One of those gut-feelings which, from time to time, made him do unusual things. Such as receiving an old Lady whose only credential was an unusual friendship with one of his sisters.

"Let's hear what she has to say, Benevento. But let me know immediately when my wife's back. I'm more tired than I will ever admit and I'll stop working as soon as I have a good reason to quit!"

Benevento smiled and bowed to his master.

How strange life can be sometimes.

Nobody, not even his mother –and she had never doubted that her son would, some day, become an important gentleman– would have bet a schilling on him becoming the trusted manservant of one of the most intriguing –and dangerous– men of Europe's new political leadership.

But then who could have believed that he would need his most terrible period of bad luck to be at the only place where he would have a chance to meet d'Arcy?

Nobody and even himself, Gianluca Benevento had been at the brink of despair when d'Arcy's decision has changed his life.

He closed the door of his master's office behind him and walked swiftly toward the parlor where the old matron was waiting.

He made the traditional sign to ward off the evil eye.

Because that matron was the unusual matron he had ever encountered.

A witch, he was sure of it…

A servant –a disguised bodyguard to say the truth– opened the door and let him into the parlor where the Duchess was waiting while sipping a cup of tea.

She smiled at him but her eyes were as cold as the first time she had looked at him.

"Monsieur le Proconsul va vous recevoir, Madame, » said Beneveto with a deep bow. « I'll show you the way… »


He let her in and closed the door.

He hoped he could cope with her, because he rather liked being with this curious aristocrat. And his present condition was not the best…

He shook his head and smiled.

Physically it was true… But mentally never had he seen d'Arcy so… Free?

As if he had forgotten to be dedicated and concentrated on his next task.

As if he was enjoying life…

Which, without a doubt, he was…

He chuckled for himself and went to his own office where he would go on reading reports and preparing memos for his master about the situation in the Middle Sean and Turkey.

Memos all written in Corsican…

Which was the only reason why, one day, five years ago he came to meet the man he falsely believed being a Turkish trader.

It was the end of the worst period of his life.

He had just lost everything. His ship, where he was only the "bosco" but his ship nevertheless! Most of his mates had been killed by the carronade of the English frigate and what was still alive had fled with difficulties toward the next best Algerian haven where their dear friends had looked at them, smiled and confiscated the remains of their ship and "condemned" them for piracy…

He already knew that a pirate's word was not worth a damn but he was still believing that there was something as a pirate's ethics.

He now knew that there is no such thing.

There's only one thing in a pirate's life: greed.

So, after having sold so many poor people to those same slave traders was it his turn to be a slave at Cairo's Slave Market this awful day where he really had forlorn all hope.

And that was when they first met.

Those sharp blue eyes had looked into his soul and he had ask him if it was true that he was Corsican. He had agreed without thinking about the consequences and ten minutes later he was walking, bereft of his irons, behind his new master.

And he now knew that it was only because of his Corsican origins that d'Arcy had bought him. He was the only one on sale this dreadful morning. And knowing the trade of most of his fellow countrymen he had been the first for a very long time.

But even if there was gratitude in their relationship, there was also what could be called a common easiness. They had found each other and they had liked what they had found.

The Mediterranean pirate he once was had opened quite a few interesting doors to d'Arcy and d'Arcy's ambition had pulled the young Corsican bandit to Heights he would never have dreamt of.

And he liked it even more since he had grasped why d'Arcy had chosen him that fateful day in Cairo…

Nobody had known that d'Arcy had a complete understanding of Corsican… The day Benevento had learned that Napoleone Buonaparte would be the leader of the French Egypt expedition he had believed that he had, finally, understood why a well studied man like d'Arcy had taken the time to learn Corsican…

It was so clear and extraordinarily clever. Whatever Napoleon would utter in his very own language d'Arcy had been able to understand.

What a tremendous advantage. What an extraordinary wise endeavor.

But nothing had happened as he had imagined it.

Benevento had been amazed when he had finally heard that one of the first things d'Arcy had said to the future Consul had been said in Corsican…

And then he had looked at Napoleon's eyes. And he had seen the frown disappear to see pleasure and respect appear. And, at that very moment, he had understood how d'Arcy's mind was working.

He had asked him a few months later and the answer he got had confirmed his suspicions.

"Never spy on a man while there's a chance to win his trust and confidence, Benevento…" He had shaken his head and looked him into the eye. "And, when dealing with a dangerous predator, never forget the only advice you'll ever need: don't trust him entirely because his agenda will never be a normal one and, even more importantly, never give him any reason to mistrust you…"

And Benevento had taken that advice very very seriously!


Geoffroy d'Arcy did do the hint of a bow and his smile was genuine if strained.

"My apologies for not standing up your Highness, but in my presence condition moving too much is not the most intelligent thing to do…"

The duchess smiled back.

"Not to mention that each movement must hurt like hell…"

He showed teeth and nodded.

"Not to mention that, indeed…"

Immediately after she sat and the guards drifted back toward the northern wall where they would not hear what's being said but see everything, he frowned at her.

"I won't hide that I'm surprised by your visit. I see no reason for it…"

"Thank you for your kind treatment of an old Lady?"

He shook his head, slowly and while being careful not to strain his neck muscles.

"Not now and not yet, your Highness. You're either too late or too early. And I doubt that a woman of your standing could make such a mistake without perfectly knowing what she's about to do…"

It was the Duchess' turn to nod.

"Indeed I have a further much more important reason to bother you while you should still be in bed curing slowly your injured back…side…"

She got a smile for that.

"It's also my wife's opinion and, if I'm truthful, with each hour spent in this armchair it's becoming more and more mine."

The Duchess took her purse and placed a few things on the immaculate worktable facing her.

"This could be of help…"

He looked at the three little bottles and the two little round boxes that looked like candy boxed.

"How so?"

She pointed toward the bottles and the boxes.

"These are remedies, very strong remedies and, if you use them you could be up within three days."

He frowned.

"I'm already up…"

She looked at him and only her own experience got her the strength not to look down under his fiery glare.

"But you won't tomorrow and you know it as well as I, monsieur d'Arcy. What you did today will have a price and that price will maintain you in bed for two more weeks… To say the least!"

She knew she'd stricken a sensible cord when she saw him frown.

Her little exaggeration were confirming his own fears. He should have waited two days more. And the nice healing process he was undergoing had probably been disturbed by his unwise decision.

He was strong and healthy and he had that same 'special' aura his wife and sister had… And in his case it was even stronger…

So could probably stand up in less than a week but she wasn't going to tell him that. Not while she needed him willing and eager to listen to her.

He didn't answer and she could let her thoughts wander. Wander around that unsettling protection this man had got. Had he been the only one she would have bet on eastern magic. But since his wife and sister had the same…

She would have to go to Pemberley. It was the only place where they were together for a long time –London excluded but she knew everything about the City and there was definitely nothing in there to grant something as powerful as that– and it would be there that she would find what she was looking for.

His eyes went back to the bottles and she knew she had won.

"And these drugs will help?"

She nodded.

"You drink one of those each morning and each evening and you let your lovely wife tend your back with the balm of the boxes and I guarantee that in three days you're cured."

"Cured? As in able to move, walk, run?"

She shot him a mischievous smile.

"As in doing every bodily exertion you can think of without the least ache or hurt…"

That got her to him and this time even his eyes smiled sincerely at her.

"That would be a real miracle, your Highness. How is it that such drugs are not freely available on the market? You could be a rich woman…"

"I'm already a very rich and influential woman, monsieur d'Arcy. And it would not be in my best interest to gloat about my possibilities in this particular field of human knowledge. A lot of my fellow healers have met an untimely death on the stake… I'm not willing to meet the same fate!"

He looked at her for a long time.

"I have the means to order you burned immediately…" said he after a very long thinking period.

"Indeed you have, monsieur d'Arcy. But if you should decide to go into the witch hunting business you must consider that you would have to deal with your wife in exactly the same way as y…"

"You won't say a word more…" said he and it was only because she had been prepared to his outburst that she had the strength not to jump back.

She looked him in the eyes and held her ground and met his threatening glare with an equal powerful will of her own.

"She has the gift, monsieur d'Arcy. As has every other woman of her family!"

That made him frown.

She used remorselessly the little advantage he was giving her.

"You married yourself into a very interesting family. It seems your new sisters and mother in law have everything that's needed to be a perfect follower of that peculiar train of human knowledge. None of them is trained but they have the Gift and the Church has never been very reluctant to burn even on a simple denunciation…"

To her real amazement her last remark made him laugh. A strained and controlled laugh but a genuine one.

"Well, I threatened you and you threatened me," said he after a few seconds of laughter. "Now let's come to business. What do you want?"

She relaxed.

"I want to help you and I want you to help me! That's the whole truth of the matter, monsieur d'Arcy. I will admit that, a few days ago I was only wanting to get from you what I wanted without giving anything in return and to do so I had every intention to influence you wife to get to you but since she has the Gift that's a way I definitely can't follow. So I'm here with another proposition."

He sighed.

"So you tried to use my wife?"

She nodded.

"That's the traditional way, the secret way… It was always an excellent way to get within hearing distance of the Mighty Rulers of the Land. But we cannot influence somebody with the Gift and since she genuinely loves you…"

"She does?"

She nodded.

"Yes and you really don't need my opinion on that matter. And to answer your next question, if she would not have loved you I would have proposed her to become one of us and to teach her. In the past it was always the best way to ensure the collaboration of an ambitious wife…"

He frowned.

"And because she loves me…"

"She's of no use to us. She won't use her talent against you that's a given, monsieur d'Arcy. We women have very few scruples when it comes to protect the people we love. And when it happens that one of us finds true love…" She made a face. "Let's just say that it makes thing so much more complicated…"

He smiled at her.

"I could still have you burned, your Highness. I have of last quite a few influential friends within the Church, I'm sure I could protect her against their interest."

"Yes you could and no you won't… Not now that you have over thought every implication my little revelations have given you. I'm much more interesting alive than dead, and I'm quite sure you already know it."

He nodded and pointed at the bottles.

"It could all be a pretty lie to get me to drink those drugs and poison myself like the total fool I would be if I just listened to you…"

She agreed.

"That's why I brought you twice the needed quantity. You can test it on somebody else with the same injuries as you. You'll see that it's not a poison and that it heals rather quickly rupture wounds and torn flesh."

She looked him in the eye.

"I know that you didn't lose a lot of soldiers while invading England and that you are more than reluctant to 'test' drugs on your fellow soldiers but there is this young captain who got shot by these highwaymen… He's going to die within the next hours." She pointed at the bottles. "With one of them he could be saved… Let's test it and you'll know before this evening what's the matter with my drugs…"

He sighed.

"You are tempting me and by tempting me you are manipulating me…"

She smiled at him.

"That's the old traditional way, monsieur d'Arcy and in most cases it's still the best way to get what we want… Not everyone is protected… by love!"