Anne Ashley, page 16
The Lieutenant cleared his throat noisily. ‘However, the injured soldier involved in the attack assured me he succeeded in wounding several smugglers, one of whom he swears bore an uncanny resemblance to your husband, Mrs Kingsley.’
Briony could only hope that she had remained silently stupefied for exactly the right amount of time before exclaiming, ‘Don’t be ridiculous! Why, the mere idea that my husband is in any way involved in smuggling is ludicrous in the extreme!’
She moved across to the window, wringing her hands in an attempt to appear genuinely perturbed. ‘Let me remind you, Lieutenant, that not only is my husband a wealthy man in his own right, he is the heir to a viscountcy.’ She swung round to face them both again. ‘Do you suppose he would foolishly jeopardise his standing, bring disgrace to the proud name he bears, for a keg or two of brandy and rum, and a few bottles of French wine? Why, you must be all about in your head!’
A hint of colour stole beneath the younger officer’s pale skin. ‘Ma’am, let me assure you that, in the normal course of events, of course I wouldn’t think to question your husband on such matters. But a reliable source swore he was seen in the vicinity last night. Furthermore, he is a frequent user of the coast road.’
‘Yes, sir, and so am I,’ Briony reminded him, more than ever determined to brazen it out and do her utmost to protect Luke. ‘It is a beautiful ride at this time of year. Do you also believe me to have some involvement in the illicit trade? I give you my word that I was with my husband last night and knew his precise whereabouts.’
Knowing at least this was true did much to salve her conscience. ‘But if you do not believe me, you are at liberty to search the Manor from attic to cellar. You’ll not find my husband beneath this roof. Nor shall you discover any smuggled goods.’
Lieutenant Henshaw, eyes lit by a speculative glint, looked as if he had every intention of accepting the invitation. His less-ambitious companion, however, evidently feeling such an intrusion was taking matters much too far on such scant evidence of a gentleman’s guilt, quickly intervened by announcing that no such search would be necessary.
‘You may be sure, gentlemen, that I shall enlighten my husband as to the reason behind your visit today. Whether he shall wish to take matters further is entirely up to him. No doubt you shall be hearing from him in due course.’
Briony at least had the satisfaction of seeing Lieutenant Henshaw appearing slightly discomposed by the thinly veiled threat before she wished them both a curt good-day.
The instant she was alone she slumped down on to one of the chairs. Although she had kept her head and believed she had succeeded in convincing the officers of Luke’s non-involvement in the events of the previous night, it brought scant consolation. She’d been made to lie on his behalf, and wouldn’t easily forgive Luke for obliging her to do that. He had been there, and although from what she had witnessed he had been viewing the proceedings only, and had taken no active part, his behaviour did require a full explanation.
He owed her that much at least.
Chapter Eleven
Briony’s worst fears were realised late the following day when Janet came to tell her that Luke had developed a fever. She then undertook most of the nursing herself, at least during daylight hours, leaving the trustworthy Ben Carey to watch over his master at night.
Remaining in the chair by the bedside for long periods, she would bathe Luke’s heated skin in a desperate attempt to bring down his temperature and make him more comfortable. She even helped to change his soaking-wet nightshirts when the need arose, any natural modesty at seeing her husband naked quickly forgotten in face of the seriousness of his condition.
Time and again she had been on the point of summoning the doctor, only in the end to dismiss the notion. Whether Luke liked and trusted Dr Mansfield or not was not the issue. She could not forget his last words. At all costs he had wanted no one to know what he had been about on the night the gentlemen had been abroad.
In her darkest moments, when she could only watch him toss and turn, and listen to his unintelligible mutterings, she couldn’t help wondering whether that request would be the last coherent thing she was destined to hear him utter. It was only then that suppressed emotions and deep regrets threatened to overwhelm her. It was on those occasions that she wished with all her heart their marriage had not remained one merely of convenience; it was on those occasions she felt she would regret to her dying day denying him his God-given rights as a husband on their wedding night.
It was on the fifth day, when she arrived at the lodge to relieve Ben of his nursing duties, that she immediately sensed a change in the sick room. Before she glanced in the servant’s direction to see his weather-beaten countenance set in the broadest of grins, she instinctively looked over at the bed, just as she had done every time she had entered the small ground-floor bedchamber, and knew at once that, some time during the night, the fever had broken. Confirmation came a moment later when she placed a hand on a blessedly cool brow.
‘It happened just afore daybreak, mistress,’ Ben revealed. ‘He woke, demanding a drink, and when I gives ’im water, he swears at me, like the real trooper he be. So now I know he’ll pull through.’
‘Well, he had best not attempt to swear at me, otherwise he’ll receive the contents of the water jug over his head.’
Although Ben’s shoulders shook in suppressed laughter, there was no mistaking the deep admiration mirrored in his eyes as they rested on the young woman who had remained such a pillar of strength throughout the darkest hours, when even he despaired of his master ever recovering.
‘Well, mistress, I should be able to look after him fine from now on. So you’ll be able to go out and about again, normal like.’
‘Yes, and a good thing, too! My—er—chill could not have continued to confine me to the house indefinitely. I shall go abroad this afternoon, I think. But, in the meantime, you go and get some sleep.’
Ben made to leave, then checked. ‘You’ll give me a shout if he should wake. I knows him, mistress. He’ll not stay a-bed for long, not if he has his way.’
‘He’ll remain where he is for as long as I consider it necessary,’ Briony countered, at her imperious best. ‘I have merely to remove his clothes, should he prove troublesome.’
‘Very wifely,’ a soft voice murmured, and Briony swung round to find herself being regarded by a pair of, thankfully, feverless clear-grey eyes.
‘So, you really are back in the land of the living,’ she teased, thereby hiding quite beautifully a further sudden well of emotion. Now was not the appropriate time to reveal her complete change of heart. Perhaps, when he had fully recovered, she might consider giving voice to feelings that had been changing so gradually over the weeks that she had hardly been aware of the depth of her love herself. But she must choose the right moment. After all, his emotions, his desires, were equally important. The last thing she would ever wish to do was put him under any pressure to remain with her, if his inclination was to leave.
Gently sliding an arm beneath him, she succeeded in raising his head and shoulders sufficiently to help him drink a little more water. ‘I’m sorry I cannot allow you anything stronger. Perhaps in a day or two, when you’ve begun to regain your appetite, we may think about a little wine.’
He didn’t attempt to argue; he didn’t even attempt to converse further. Clearly he was still very weak, yet surprisingly strong enough to reach for her hand and retain it in his own, until he had drifted back to sleep.
* * *
During the next few days, as his appetite began to increase, he stayed awake for lengthier periods. Unfortunately his desire not to remain in bed increased also. In a last valiant attempt to persuade him to remain where he was for a day or two more at least, Briony revealed the lengths to which she, personally, had been obliged to go to keep his activities secret. This achieved the desired result, clearly giving him pause for thought, and he didn’t attempt to rise from the bed.
‘So, I’m supposed to be in Kent, am I?’ Not attempting to hide his frustration, he raised his uninjured arm to run impatient fingers through his hair. ‘Confound it! Then, of course, I cannot suddenly show myself abroad.’ Staring narrow-eyed at nothing in particular, he considered for a moment. ‘Unless, of course, I can convince people I had a run-in with some ruffians during my visit and sustained a shoulder injury.’
‘Unfortunately, that won’t serve, Luke,’ she revealed softly. ‘I think you should know you were seen that night.’
All at once he was more alert than he had been for days. ‘Who saw me?’ he demanded to know.
‘From what I can gather a young soldier in the militia. Apparently he recognised you. He’d seen you before, you see, riding along the coast road.’
As Luke gave way to annoyance by swearing long and hard under his breath, Briony went over to the small window and stared out at the trees surrounding the lodge. The wood had proved sufficient to hide Luke from the world at large. She could only pray it would continue to do so for as long as necessary. ‘Hours after you were shot, I received a visit from Lieutenant Henshaw and a major in the militia. I do not think the Lieutenant was wholly convinced of your innocence, though he did eventually leave the Manor without undertaking a search.’
‘Young stiff-rump! This might ruin everything…and when I was so damned close, too!’ Luke cursed, and Briony swung round, totally at a loss to understand precisely what he had meant.
He read her thoughts in an instant. ‘For the love of God, don’t attempt to ask me anything now, Briony. I’ll explain everything presently. But we need to move fast, if all is not to be lost. Return to the Manor and bring pen and paper, and sufficient money to enable Ben to travel to London by post-chaise. You’ll need to write the letter, as I can’t use my right arm. But I’m certain he will appreciate it’s genuine enough when Ben delivers it in person.’
* * *
Later, when she had seen Ben safely on his way, Briony returned to the lodge to discover Luke looking grimmer than ever, the book he had been reading discarded on the cupboard by his bedside.
‘He’s gone…? Good! All we can do now is await developments and hope for the best. I just pray enquiries haven’t already been made to ascertain if I’m really in Kent. We shall truly be in the mire if they have.’
‘Shall we, indeed?’ Briony raised one brow in a quizzical arch for a moment. ‘Well, yes, I suppose I, too, will be considered guilty of taking part in your—er—nocturnal activities,’ she reluctantly acknowledged before going over to the small table in the corner of the room where she had placed a bottle of wine and glasses the day before. She filled them both before returning to the chair positioned by the bed. ‘I believe I shall allow you a further glass of wine today, as I could do with one myself.’
Luke smiled wryly as he accepted gratefully the filled glass. ‘You’re an angel, Briony, truly you are! I do appreciate how much I owe you and fully accept you deserve an explanation.’ He sighed. ‘It’s just knowing where to begin…?’
Unlike Luke, Briony didn’t need to consider. Although the missive she had penned on Luke’s behalf had been brief, it had contained enough information for her to appreciate that the person for whom it was destined was a gentleman of standing enough in certain circles to enable him to stop further enquiries being made into Luke’s whereabouts.
‘You may begin by revealing who Sir Bartholomew Walters might be and your particular connection with this worthy.’
Although the dryness of her tone made him smile, Luke could understand her obvious chagrin. He had never underestimated her spirit, or doubted her intelligence, come to that. But now he knew how very courageous she was and could appreciate also how very much he was in her debt.
‘I do not need to tell you, Briony, that what I’m about to reveal must never go any further. I do appreciate that, after what happened to me, you had no choice but to take Janet into your confidence. But what I’m about to reveal is for your ears alone. Not even Ben Carey is privy to all.’
She didn’t need to respond. He knew she understood perfectly; knew, too, beyond doubt, he could trust her implicitly. ‘When I received word that my cousin had died and I had become my uncle’s sole heir, I had no desire to leave the army. I wished to remain to continue serving my country. In the end it was none other than Wellesley himself who persuaded me to sell out and return to England.
‘During my final eighteen months or so out in the Peninsula I had become something of a courier, you might say. I would collect and deliver certain letters. Needless to say I was in Wellesley’s confidence. But there were many others he did not trust, both out there in Spain and back here in England. He knew for certain that vital information, about such crucial matters as troop movements and dates of sailing vessels carrying vital supplies out to the Peninsula, was being passed on to the French. He wanted me to continue working on his behalf in order to bring the traitors to justice.’
‘And I assume Sir Bartholomew is involved in just such work,’ Briony prompted, when Luke appeared to be lost in thought.
He smiled wryly. ‘One might consider him our country’s foremost spycatcher, or at least one of a very select group. To look at him one would never imagine that behind all that wealth of lazy, natural charm and seeming unconcern lurks a razor-sharp mind that never rests and a steely determination to bring to justice all traitors, no matter who they might be. He moves in the highest circles. No doors are ever closed to him. Yet, very few realise the incredibly vital work he undertakes on behalf of his country.
‘When I became one of Sir Bartholomew’s trusted collaborators, he requested that I merely establish myself in the capital, attain the reputation for—how shall I phrase it?—enjoying the finer things in life my meteoric rise up the social ladder had bestowed upon me. I was never a pauper before becoming my uncle’s heir, and many people knew this, of course, but I had remained away from social circles long enough for memories to have faded, and Luke Kingsley the pleasure-seeking ne’er-do-well was not looked upon with suspicion by the majority. Only a very few questioned the evident change in my character—Aunt Lavinia, to name but one.’
Briony had the grace to look a little shamefaced at this. Hadn’t she been guilty of thinking the worst of him, eager to believe all the scurrilous rumours about his questionable lifestyle? She appreciated at last just how she had wronged him.
‘So, you were deliberately putting on an act…. But what were you hoping to gain by it?’
‘Sir Bartholomew was certain more than one person was involved,’ he revealed after a moment’s thought. ‘As the months passed he became increasingly convinced the information was being leaked directly from the War Office. After much painstaking effort he eventually pinpointed the exact source of the leaks—a young secretary, with political ambitions. Furthermore, a young man with influential family connections. But the young man in question rarely left the capital. So, how was the information being passed on to the French? For many, many weeks a twenty-four-hour watch was placed on the secretary. All his mail was carefully intercepted and read, but nothing ever came to light. Therefore the information was being passed on directly to a go-between, someone who had connections to the secretary and was not above selling our country’s secrets to the French, for a price. But was this person a friend, or family member, perhaps?’
‘And do you now know?’ Briony regarded him keenly when she didn’t receive an answer. ‘Did you perchance consider three possible suspects for this go-between—Dr Mansfield, Claud Willoughby and Miles Petersham, by any chance?’
His appreciative smile was answer enough, even before he said, ‘Clever girl! From the beginning I was inclined to favour Petersham, mainly because the secretary holding the trusted position at the War Office is none other than his cousin. But I couldn’t totally rule out the other two, until I was sure. Claud Willoughby happens to be a particular friend of Simon Petersham and is a frequent visitor to Simon’s rooms in London. So, naturally, he fell under suspicion. After returning here, I soon realised he was, indeed, the empty-headed fribble I’d always considered him to be and that he merely returned to Dorset when in dun territory, and for no other reason.
‘Now Mansfield, you’ll be surprised to discover, was the practitioner whom Simon Petersham always called upon when the need arose. So when the good doctor upped and left the capital and moved away last year, it certainly raised a few questions, especially when he made return visits to London at intervals. I’m now convinced, though, he’s no traitor, merely ambitious. Setting himself up in a country practice, where there’s far less competition from other members of his profession, brings its own rewards, I suppose. The worst I can say of him is that I strongly suspect he’s on the lookout for a rich wife, one who might further his ambitions.’
Briony clearly recalled the attention he had paid Melissa Petersham on the night of the party and thought Luke might possibly be right. She remembered, too, the attention she had once received from the handsome doctor and couldn’t help wondering now if she had been singled out because of a doting godmother who might have provided a substantial dowry. Oddly enough she felt more amused than offended by the distinct possibility. Her thoughts then returned to Melissa and she couldn’t resist having her curiosity satisfied.
‘No, I never really saw her as a viable suspect, Briony,’ he confirmed in answer to her question. ‘She’s a dizzy damsel, frivolous, but not, I think, a traitor to her country. She does happen to be Simon’s sister, of course, and she has stayed at Petersham House from time to time. So, yes, there was an outside chance that she might be the link in the chain. But I struck her off the list on the night of our dinner party. No one with a modicum of intelligence would entrust her to pass on secret information. Her cousin, on the other hand, is quite another matter.
