A Game of Shadows (30 page)

October 1777

Staten Island

“Mutton and boiled potatoes today,” Susanna announced as she set the tray down carefully atop the small table by Sam’s bed.  “I’ll cut up the mutton for you, shall I?” She began to cut the meat into bite-sized pieces, not bothering to wait for Sam’s reply.  He couldn’t cut the food for himself as the tray would rest squarely on his wound, causing him pain. 

Sam sat up, watching her from under his lashes.  He wasn’t particularly hungry these days, but Susanna had taken to sitting with him while he ate, so he stretched the meal out for as long as he could just for the benefit of her company.  She was the only person he’d really spoken to since being brought to the fort
, and he looked forward to their conversations.  The other patient had been discharged, and Doctor Freeman usually blew in like a summer storm and blew out just as quickly after checking Sam’s progress.  Susanna explained that her father was working on creating a pain-numbing compound in his makeshift lab, and was closeted in there most days trying out different formulas and waiting for an opportunity to try them out on wounded soldiers. 

Susanna
never complained, but she seemed terribly lonely at times, her beautiful eyes shadowed with sadness as she floated about the empty ward, tidying up things that were more than tidy already.  Sam wasn’t sure if her father meant to ignore her or if he was simply preoccupied with his work, but Susanna appeared to spend most of her time alone in her room down the hall.  She’d been particularly melancholy the last few days, her eyes full of something Sam didn’t understand. 

“How are you feeling today?” she asked, searching his face for
signs of discomfort.

“Much better,” Sam lied, not wanting to complain. 
Lying about in a nightshirt, having his meat cut for him, and being forced to use a chamber pot, was about as much humiliation as he could handle without having her fuss over him like an infant.  Sam tried to preserve some dignity, but it was probably too late for that.

“And you?” Sam asked in an effort to change the subject.

“I got a letter from my sister.  She’s pregnant with her first child and I am very happy for her.”  Susanna looked anything but happy, her eyes filling with tears and the tip of her nose turning a telltale shade of pink as she turned away from Sam.  Sam put his hand over hers in a gesture of comfort, trying to understand what brought on this bout of misery in the normally composed Susanna.  Why would her sister’s pregnancy affect her so?  He supposed it had to do with her own lack of prospects and advancing years, and blurted out the first words of comfort that came to mind.

“You will make a wonderful mother some day,” he said, watching her face to see if he got it right.  Susanna’s head whipped
around as she stared at him open-mouthed. 

“Why did you just say that?” she demanded, her cheeks turning crimson with
embarrassment.

“Isn’t that why you are so sad?  Your sister is pregnant and although you’re happy for her, you’re deathly afraid that you will never have a child of your own.”  Sam nearly bit his
tongue at the look on her face.  Susanna went pale, her eyes opening wide in shock.  Why couldn’t he have just kept quiet?  He’d only distressed her further.  Maybe she hadn’t even thought of that, but now he put the idea in her head and brought attention to her age. 
You blathering idiot!
Sam thought, mentally kicking himself. 
What on earth possessed you to spew that bit of homespun wisdom? 

But Susanna
suddenly gave him a sheepish smile, squeezing his hand in a gesture of appreciation.  “Your Abbie is a very lucky woman, Corporal.  Not many men would have been so perceptive.  You’re right; I am happy for Laura, but deep down I fear that I may never experience the joy of motherhood.  Love seems to have passed me by.”

Sam
gazed up at her, wishing she could see how lovely and special she was instead of believing herself to be plain and past the age of marriage.  “Susanna, I can’t proclaim myself to be a great expert on love, but I believe that sooner or later everyone has their chance.  The problem is that most people don’t wait for it; they grab the first person they find for fear of being passed over.  It takes a world of courage to hold out for the right one and not give in to society’s pressure.  I wager you’ve had an offer or two, but you couldn’t go against your heart.  Am I right?”

Susanna nodded at him, still smiling. 
“So, did you hold out for the right one or grab the first one that came along?” she asked as she handed him a cup of ale, watching him with her head cocked to the side.  She’d suddenly brightened up, her sorrow forgotten.  “What is she like, your Abbie?”

“She’s beautiful, spirited, and oh
-so opinionated,” Sam replied, smiling back at her.  This conversation had steered him into dangerous waters, and he needed a way to gracefully change the subject. 

“Do you not mind?” Susanna asked, watching him intently.

“Mind what?”

“Mind that she’s opinionated.  Most men find that rather
an unattractive quality in a woman, at least the ones that I’ve come across.”

“My father always said that a woman without spirit is like a night sky without the stars and the moon,” Sam replied.

“Very poetic.  Is your mother a spirited woman then?”

“Yes, she is, and so are my sisters
—
all of them.  A man who is intimidated by an intelligent woman is just a coward who wants a handmaiden rather than a life partner.” 

Susanna looked at Sam, an expression of
amusement on her face.  “You’re a surprising person, Corporal Johnson, and I thank you for making me feel better.  You have a way of putting things into perspective.  I don’t usually wallow in self-pity, but I suppose everyone has their moments of doubt.”

“I’m glad I could help.”  Sam handed the plate back to Susanna, unable to stomac
h another bite.  All that talk of love left him feeling surprisingly sad.  He was preaching about something he knew nothing about.  It’s not as if he had ever been in love with the right or the wrong person. 

“I have some news that might cheer you up as well.  The Americans have been defeated at Brandywine Creek.  Washington’s army fled northeast
, and General Howe is poised to take Philadelphia.  This might be a turning point, don’t you think?”

Sam felt as if he had been kicked in the stomach as he looked at Susanna’s joyful face.  She thought the news would make him happy, but he
felt a cold hand of desolation squeeze his heart.  Could Abbie’s information have made any difference?  He doubted it, feeling the crushing weight of defeat as he considered the consequences of this British victory.  He’d always believed that the Americans would win, but what if Susanna was right and this was the turning point in the war?  What if they lost?  Sam slid down the bed, pretending to be tired.  He wanted Susanna to leave so that he could grieve in peace, but she wasn’t done with him yet.

“Corporal Johnson, are you all right?  You look pale all of a sudden.  Shall I summon my father?”  Susanna put a hand to his forehead to check
for fever, shaking her head in confusion.

“Thank you, Miss Freeman
, I’m quite all right.  Just a little tired, I think.  I’m just so overcome by the news of Washington’s defeat,” he added for good measure.

“Yes, it’s something, isn’t it? 
I would have told you sooner, but I didn’t think you were well enough to talk about the war.  Well, I’ll let you rest then.”  Susanna leaned over him and kissed him on the forehead, a totally unexpected gesture which left him feeling even more lonely and vulnerable.  He closed his eyes to hide his misery from Susanna and kept them closed until she finally left. 

October 1624

Paris

Being a Catholic cardinal must be a lucrative business, Valerie thought as the coach rattled up to Neuville’s residence in the Saint-Germain quarter the following morning.  The street was lined with handsome townhouses belonging to French nobility, their stone facades a testament to the world-famous architecture of Paris.  Neuville’s house was set back from the street, surrounded by old horse-chestnut trees that provided some privacy, as well as shade during the warmer days of summer.  Alec pushed open the iron gate, and they walked underneath the green canopy of the leaves overhead toward the front door of the residence.  It was too quiet, as if a sleeping spell had been cast on the house and all the inhabitants were in deep slumber waiting for someone to come and wake them up.  Alec banged the brass knocker several times, but there was no answer from within.  The house remained silent and guarded as if holding on to a secret it had been entrusted with by its owner.

“There must be someone here.  I can’t imagine that a house like this would be left completely unattended,” Alec said, pulling Valerie around the corner and toward the out
building in the back, which judging by the rutted track leading to the gate must serve as a carriage house for the cardinal.  Alec pushed open the door, peering into the dim interior.  Several carriages were stored inside; cleaned and polished to a shine should the cardinal have need of them.  A young boy sat in the corner, whistling a tune and carving something from a small block of wood, deftly wielding the knife as it chipped away pieces of bark. 

“Hello there,” Alec called out.  “You are just the person
I was looking for.”  The boy looked up in surprise, lowering the knife and the block of wood. 

“How can I be of help, sir?” he asked, confused.  Not many gentlemen invaded his sanctuary in this way
, and the boy was clearly thrown off-guard. 

“I was to have a meeting with Cardinal Neuville regarding
something of great importance, but he seems to have forgotten all about it,” Alec shared in a friendly tone.  “Might you know where I could find him?  It’s terribly important.” 

The boy looked at Alec with uncertainly, torn between following
orders, and fear of insulting a gentleman who clearly had urgent business with his employer.  Fear seemed to have won, for the boy got to his feet, coming closer to Alec and Valerie.  “The cardinal left early this morning, sir.  He had an urgent message from his father last night, you see.  He’d been summoned home, but he couldn’t leave for Loudun right away.  He had an important meeting with the archbishop this morning.  That’s likely why he forgot his appointment with you, sir.”

“Does the cardinal plan to be away long enough to warrant closing down the house?” Alec asked, gazing at the boy.

The boy just shrugged his thin shoulders in a typically Gallic gesture of uncertainty, lifting his hands up and gazing heavenward as if only God knew how long the cardinal would be away.  “He didn’t tell us, sir, but the cardinal keeps only a small staff and sometimes gives them time off while he travels.  I suspect they might have left already since most of them have family outside of the city that they like to visit.”

“And what about you?  Don’t you have family?”

“No, sir.  I’m an orphan.  Besides, I like being here by myself.  I have the run of the house.”  The boy suddenly looked scared, as if realizing that the gentleman might tell on him.  “That is to say, I…,” he faltered, unsure of how to extricate himself from the situation.

“Don’t worry, son.  I won’t say a word to the cardinal.  Your secret is safe with me.  As a matter of fact, no one needs to know that I was even here.  Agreed?”

The boy nodded enthusiastically, happy to be off the hook.  Alec pulled a coin out of his pocket, making sure the boy saw it before asking where the archbishop could be found. 

“His name is Jean-Francois de Gondi
, and he lives on rue Barbet de Jouy.”

“Thank you, y
ou were very helpful.  The cardinal must have told me of the meeting with the archbishop, and I forgot.  How very thoughtless of me.”  Alec tossed the coin to the boy, who caught it effortlessly and bit down on it before putting it in his pocket. 

“I completely understand, sir.  I’m glad to have been able to help you.” The boy grinned sheepishly,
obviously getting Alec’s meaning.  For a coin, he was more than happy to forget Alec had ever been there.

“Au revoir,” he called as Alec and Valerie left the carriage house and headed back to the street.

“I think we can probably intercept him before he leaves for Loudun.  I would prefer not to go back there again,” Alec said, helping Valerie into the coach.  “I can’t help wondering if someone warned him about my inquiries or if this is just a coincidence.”

“I don’t know, Alec, but Madame Jarnot took a great risk in telling you the truth when no one else would.  I hope she didn’t come to any harm.  You heard what she said about the
mayor.”  Valerie was suddenly scared for the woman.  If Rose had been murdered, what was there to stop someone from murdering Berenice Jarnot?

“We came across
Monsieur Barras just as we were leaving town and went to see Madame Jarnot directly from there.  As far as everyone knew we left after visiting Rose’s grave.  I hope that this is just a coincidence.  No one in town told us anything, so the mayor would have had no reason to urgently send for his son,” Alec reasoned out loud.  “Let’s see if he’s still with the archbishop.”

They had no difficulty finding the address the boy had given them as there were only a few houses on that street, one
grander than the next.  A sleek coach stood in front of the archbishop’s residence, the coachman gazing with longing after a pretty young woman who passed by with her maid.  The woman stared straight ahead, but the maid turned around, giving the coachman a saucy smile, which he returned tenfold, forgetting all about her mistress. 

“Pardon me,” Alec said politely, “but is this the residence of the archbishop?  I’m afraid we had a meeting, but I got terribly lost.”

“Yes, sir,” the coachman answered naively, “but he’s meeting with Cardinal Neuville at the moment.  I expect they’ll be finished soon.  We are due to leave the city within the hour.”

“How foolish of me to have missed my appointment,” Alec said, his face full of regret.  “Thank you, young man.  You were most helpful.  I’ll just wait until the
cardinal leaves.”

“Alec, what are you planning to do?” asked Valerie suspiciously as Alec got back into the coach.  “You have that look on your face.”

“Oh, what look is that, my dear?” Alec asked with a wicked grin.

“The look that
means you have a plan, and I’m not a part of it.”

“Oh, you are most certainly a part of it,” Alec replied.  “Now, here’s what I want you to do.”