The Redemption of Sir Edward Denham - A Return to Sanditon Novella

Four

Before Dujardin could respond, the door to the dining room opened, and Carlisle strolled in, closely followed by a serving girl overladen with trays of food. As Samuel Carlisle joined them, he could see from the tightness around Denham's mouth and the shrewd concentration on Dujardin's face, that he had interrupted an intense discussion. The Frenchman had started without him then. He was hardly surprised, Claude Dujardin was used to giving orders and seldom remembered that theirs was an alliance of equals. He sat slowly and reached for the carafe. Filling his glass, he waited until the girl had retreated from the room before speaking.

"I see you neglected to wait for my arrival, Dujardin. I hope that you have divulged only the information that Denham needs to know." He asked quietly. Dujardin's eyes flicked to his own before returning to study Denham once more.

"I have merely laid the foundations for our negotiation," Dujardin spoke amiably but did not move his gaze from their guest. "Denham has raised a valid point. How will Hargreaves know that his word is to be trusted? Would you care to enlighten him?" His gaze met his sharply and held, an alternative question clearly visible in his hawk-like eyes.

"You failed to heed my advice before, Claude, but then again, you pride yourself on your ability to read people accurately, do you not?" Sam spoke in a measured tone.

Dujardin held his gaze for a moment longer then slowly nodded. "Yes, of course, you are quite correct. Please proceed."

Sam turned to view Denham. The man was a conundrum indeed. The description he had received from his friend in England had portrayed him as a glorified dandy. More interested in preening, whoring and gambling than a reliable accomplice in the fight for peace and stability of their nation. Yet, there was something he couldn't quite identify about the man that suggested he was not the frivolous bounder he was portrayed as. His drinking was moderate by conventional standards and apart from his odd dalliance with the occasional serving wench; he was no more debauched than any other bachelor abroad. He had received tales of deceit and deception on a grand scale, coupled with Denham's desperate need to improve his fortunes. A man in search of wealth and consequence did not spend a year and a half in the garret of a flea-ridden boarding house. He could have flaunted his title in the better parts of the city and found himself patronage amongst the wealthy there. Neither had he turned petty criminal or cheat. Odd, Sam thought, that one such as he should be content to live simply. Sam's instincts couldn't entirely trust Denham while the two personas remained unreconciled, but what choice did he have? Perhaps there was more to his past behaviours than was understood?

"Your name was passed to us some time ago by our associate in England, Hargreaves, also known as the Marquess of Berwick. His name will become important to you as he will be your contact across the channel. However, Hargreaves was tasked with identifying a suitable Englishman, preferably of noble birth, that would be able to deliver instructions to him and his English colleagues in the event that things escalated here in France. Hargreaves, on the recommendation of a close acquaintance of his, considered you to be of possible use to us. Two others were more suited to the role; however, one died six months ago in an unfortunate boating accident, and the other fled the country following an embarrassing incident with the husband of his mistress. Alas, you were all that was left." Sam smiled slightly.

"I see. So I am your last resort? The worst of what sound like an unfortunate lot, yes?" Edward replied, unaccountably miffed by their apparent low regard.

Laughing at his fit of pique, Sam continued. "Well, yes. Hargreaves made the suggestion against his own better judgment. Someone wishes you to be given the opportunity to repent for your many sins. Who knows the reason? But our options are now limited to you. So, you see, Hargreaves will be receptive to information that you provide, as it was he who ensured that our paths would cross."

"Now, gentlemen. Let us eat. We have an early start in the morning if we are to reach Dunkerque in good time." Dujardin smiled, content that they had reached a satisfactory conclusion to their discussions.

Edward looked from Dujardin to Carlisle. "And my fee? What am I to receive from this arrangement?"

Dujardin put down his fork and looked up once more. "You will receive a sum deposited to your account in England upon successfully completing your assignment. You will also find that the tenant that has been found for your ancestral home will be given sufficient resources to affect renovations pending your imminent return. You must agree that it is not currently a residence suitably fashioned to accommodate a child, after all." Picking up his fork, Dujardin speared a piece of meat and began to fill his plate once more.

Edward froze for a moment. How odd that his mind swung to a small child with golden hair and blue eyes, not unlike her mothers. Ridiculous thought. They obviously spoke of the tenant's offspring. Tenants? Who had let Denham Place? He had always assumed it would sit like a rotting pile until he was either fortunate enough to return or the place would revert to the Crown after his demise. He shook off the thought and considered the costs of renovating the property. To replace the roof alone would cost a king's ransom. He was in no position to turn down that offer. Reservations dismissed, he nodded slowly and agreed to their terms.