Authors: Sorcha MacMurrough
"I tell you what, I'll take cab back to the clinic and my home to fetch more of my things, and enough money to hire a private conveyance for the trip down to Somerset."
Gabrielle shook her head. "We couldn't ask you to—"
"I'm offering."
"But the expense—"
“You might also need to hire someone to help you with Lucinda, unless of course Clarissa would be willing to come with us?’’ Simon suggested, his eyes still watering from the brightness now that he was free from his cell at last.
Gabrielle shook her head. “Oh, no I couldn’t ask you to come all the way to—”
“I’ll do it,” Clarissa said promptly. “I’ll tell Dr. Herriot I need a few days off, and find someone to look after the children. It will give you one less thing to worry about. Simon isn’t fully well yet, after all. And we don’t want anyone asking too many questions about Lucinda.”
Gabrielle thought about it for a time, but in the end, she agreed to the new plan.
Clarissa saw Lucinda settled comfortably, while Gabrielle watched over both of her charges with the pistols ever at the ready, and promised she would be back as soon as she could.
She went off and Simon and Gabrielle nestled in the bed exhausted, and clung to each other tightly, with the door firmly bolted and both weapons on the nightstand.
“Lord, that was so close. And that man Davenant was our guardian angel, helping us get away so quickly,” Simon said after he had kissed her thoroughly.
“Fallen angel, more like,” Gabrielle said with a smile. “Who would ever have thought he would have anything to do with molly houses, a fine man like him. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I would say he was quite taken with Lucinda.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I'm sorry I couldn't see anything because I was covering my face against the sunlight. I'll take your word for it, though. So all I can say is, people will do all sorts of things for money, or principle. In any case, the carriage belonged to him, and he was very kind to lend it to us when he saw us in need."
After a time, he said, "I thought you said he was a theatre owner and pimp?”
“That’s right.”
“He sounded young."
She thought for a moment, then nodded. "Aye, not much older than Lucinda, I should think."
"That sounds quite young to be so succcessful, so infamous. Perhaps he was only a brother or colleague.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “That’s true. Well, whoever he was, he saved us all. I was so afraid you were having a seizure. I don't know how we would have managed without his intervention.”
“Aye, I thought I was having one too. But it was just the sunlight.”
“Are you in much pain now?” she asked softly, before planting a kiss on his cheek.
“No, but I fear my eyes may be permanently weakened as a result of my incarceration.” He sighed.
“Best not to overdo things for a time, then."
"I'm not talking about overdoing things, my love, I'm talking about not being as blind as a bat."
"If you need to do any reading, I can do it for you. Not that I need to with all the volumes you have in your head.”
“Aye, which nearly killed me,” he said bitterly. “It’s my good memory which got me into this situation in the first place.”
“So you’re saying that you have a codebook of sorts in your head?” she surmised.
He nodded, gritting his teeth against the inevitable pain.
“Yes, I can see the page, and only I and the person who sent the code will know. A one book, one page code.”
Now it suddenly started to all make sense to her.
“So the two of you have the same book, or books, and you tell the page number and use the letters to code and decode. So the only way they would believe the message came from a legitimate source was by knowing which book or books were acceptable.”
He nodded. “Yes. In my case I never even had to carry the book.”
Simon gasped then, but the pain wasn’t as severe as he thought it would be, and he stared at her in surprise.
She smiled at him in sheer relief.. “It’s all starting to become clear sense now. You were able to run all of Wellington’s communications in the Peninsula and later on during the French campaign in that way. So they’ve kept you because the knowledge is so valuable, but they've just not used it yet.”
“And someone sold me to be tortured because the price on my head was so high, and they got greedy.”
“Once the French had you, they wanted the title of the book. When that didn’t work, they asked you to code things for them, false messages. So what did you say in the message?”
He shook his head. “I don’t dare tell you, and I don’t dare report it.”
“Report it?”
“To my old masters.”
Her brows knit. “But if they were keeping an eye on you, they already know. You said to me once you were bait. So they
wanted
you to send the message. You have no reason to look so despairing.”
“But the message—”
“Yes, I heard it. ‘Free the eag—’”
“Don’t say it. Can you not guess what it means?”
She shook her head.
Simon looked at her bleakly. “It means that even now a ship is on its way to St. Helena. The Governor there will release Napoleon, and Europe will be plunged into war again soon.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Gabrielle stared at Simon in horror. She gripped his upper arm hard and gasped, “Release Napoleon from his prison? Are you
sure
, darling? Simon, are you certain that’s what it means?”
He nodded, though his eyes were still closed against the pain. “The eagle was Napoleon’s symbol on all his battle standards. He escaped from Elba, remember? There are still people all over the world sympathetic to his cause.
"Look at his brother Joseph. He was the worst king of Spain imaginable. He looted and pillaged Madrid like a child raiding a shop window at Christmas. Yet he ended up getting off scot-free and now lives Philadelphia, the seat of American liberty. Disgusting.”
“At least he lost most of the treasure he looted from the poor Spaniards at the battle of Vitoria,” she pointed out softly.
“True. I was there. He left baggage trains behind him for miles and a string of women, children and court followers. They fell prey to the mercies and not so tender mercies of the British and the Spanish. It was dreadful.” He shuddered at the recollection.
Gabrielle soothed him with one hand, slowly rubbing his chest.
He sighed. “I'm so tired now, my love.”
“Yes, darling, I know you are. You’ve done very well. Been so brave. Why don’t you sleep? I’ll watch over you.”
He squinted open one eye to look at her earnestly “Promise me you’ll keep the pistols near at hand. And understand that I can’t ever go back. I'll shoot myself first before I'll let them—”
“Don’t say it,” she insisted. “Don't even think it. And don’t worry. I hate the idea of more war just as much as you do, and I'm damned if I'm going to lose you. Not after everything we've been through, especially weaning you from the opium.
"So please, let's not allow our fears to get the better of us.
It may not be as bad as you think. Perhaps the Governor of St. Helena won’t believe the message. Maybe he will want independent confirmation before he takes so drastic a step. You’re not the only one with the codes, are you?”
“I would be one of very few people,” he said, then winced.
“It will be all right. Even if the Governor does release Bonaparte, St. Helena is far away, and we have some time. Someone will stop him. It’s been nearly six years since Waterloo. I’m sure the French don’t want war again any more than we do.”
“I pray to the gods you’re right, but I fear that as long as men hunger for power like the Little Corporal and his followers, there will always be something to fear.”
She traced his handsome mouth with one forefinger. “Then we just have to trust in fate. It’s been pretty kind to us so far.”
He cupped her buttock to tuck her more tightly to him. “Yes, and you’ve been most brave. They would have poisoned me for sure if you hadn’t been there.”
"You mean poor Spence and that darling little kitten being there to save us all," she said with a sigh.
"Aye. We've been more fortunate than I can ever imagine."
She cradled him against her tenderly. “Sleep now, darling. Things will look much brighter once you’ve rested and eaten. And we can do whatever you like now that you’re free. Take a couple of days to go down to Dorset or wherever you like—”
“No,” he said, shaking his head on the pillow. “Lucinda needs to be settled. All the jouncing around in the coach won’t be good for the baby. You’re my family now, and I need to look after you all.”
“Not until you’re really well.”
He sighed and hugged her close. “But you’ve already borne so much of the burden.”
“It's been no burden at all. I did it gladly. I love you, and Lucinda.”
“Still, we’re going to need money, a place to live.”
“My cousins will help," she reassured him, hoping she sounded more confident that she felt. She still wasn't sure what she was going to tell them…. "We will all find a place in their household, I’m sure. They’re good people.”
“If they’re anything like you they must be.” He kissed her softly, and soon their garments were in a heap upon the floor, with Lucinda slumbering peacefully on her pallet on the other side of the toilette screen.
They made love silently under the covers, gently, though every nerve ending in her body screamed for him to take her as fiercely as a battering ram to reaffirm their life and love.
“Please,” she begged urgently.
“It’s all right,
cherie
. It’s all here for the asking. Just tell me what you want—”
“All of you, right now, as hard as I can bear it until I tell you to stop,” she whispered back.