Anne Ashley (14 page)

Briony placed a hand on his forehead. He was betraying no signs
of a fever yet, but this she knew was a very real possibility. He had survived
the ordeal of the operation, but he had lost a deal of blood and was looking
worryingly pale. There was laudanum at the Manor, should the need for it arise,
but other than giving him this, there was little more she could do for him.

‘The best thing for the master now is sleep.’ Janet, ever
practical, pulled the bed covers up a little and tucked them securely round the
patient. ‘And you could do with getting some yourself. You look all in, Miss
Briony. And little wonder, after what you’ve been obliged to do.’ She tutted.
‘Such goings-on! I’ve never known the like before! Abroad in the dead of night,
secret tunnels and I know not what else!’

Deeply concerned though she was over Luke, Briony couldn’t help
smiling at these disgruntled mutterings. Dragged from her bed at an ungodly hour
in order to help tend her seriously injured master, and then led through a
tunnel she’d never known existed until that moment when the secret opening in
the cellar had been revealed to her, Janet had every right to feel aggrieved.
Genuinely shocked she might still be, and highly disapproving, too, of the
previous night’s events. None the less, there was no doubt in Briony’s mind
that, like Ben Carey, Janet could be trusted implicitly.

‘Yes, and we must return to the Manor that way, I’m afraid,’
she said, turning her attention to Luke’s trusted servant. ‘We’ll all take turns
in watching over your master. No, Ben, you cannot be expected to do all the
nursing alone,’ she went on, when he attempted to protest. ‘But we’ll need to be
immensely careful. Everything must seem perfectly normal.

‘Now, let us go over the story again… When Smethers discovers
his master’s bedchamber empty, you, Janet, will inform him, when he goes down to
the kitchen, which he inevitably will do, that the master received word late
last night that his uncle, the viscount, was gravely ill, and left at first
light, taking with him an overnight bag.’

‘Thank heavens the master never summons Smethers to help him
into bed at nights, that’s all I can say!’ Janet put in with feeling, glancing
at the portmanteau they’d brought with them from the Manor, containing several
of her master’s personal belongings.

‘Quite!’ Briony agreed, before turning again to Ben. ‘You
accompanied your master at first light to Dorchester where he intended to board
the mail, if he was unable to hire a private carriage. You, after resting them,
brought the horses back here and returned to your bed.’

‘Won’t our Sam think that somewhat odd, Miss Briony?’ Janet
suggested. ‘That the master didn’t take the carriage, I mean?’

‘I do not see why he should. Remember, he didn’t take the
carriage when he travelled to London a few weeks ago,’ Briony reminded her. ‘He
went by post-chaise. I cannot imagine Sam, nor either of the lads, will think it
strange if told their master made the first stage of the journey on
horseback.’

All at once Janet’s countenance was a mask of disapproval. ‘And
just why a young lady of your standing should wish to go out riding in the dead
of night—’

‘I’ve already explained why I did so. I wished to discover what
your master was about at such times. It is by no means the first time he’s been
a-roaming after dark.’ She glanced in Ben’s direction and caught him looking
sheepishly down at the floor near his feet. ‘Just why he should be watching a
gang of smugglers, I have no notion. Ben, here, could no doubt enlighten us. But
I have no intention of asking him to betray his master’s confidence by revealing
the reason. And neither shall you, Janet!’ she ordered. ‘I shall no doubt
discover what I wish to know from your master if…when he begins to recover. In
the meantime, we must do all we can to give the impression that nothing untoward
has occurred.’

Once again she focused her full attention on the still, silent
figure in the bed. ‘I believe his greatest fear, though he never admitted as
much, was that he had been seen last night…and possibly recognised.’

* * *

Briony was to receive proof of this late that same
morning, when she was awoken by Janet, after catching up on a few blessed hours’
sleep. That something was very wrong was all too obvious by the housekeeper’s
anxious expression.

Briony was almost too afraid to ask. ‘Luke…?’

‘No, mistress. There’s no change there, as far as I’m aware.
No, there’s two men in uniform demanding to see the master. I told them he was
away from home. Then one of them demanded to see you.’

As luck would have it Briony hadn’t even bothered to change
into her nightgown. So exhausted had she been, after remaining awake for most of
the night, not to mention the trauma of tending to Luke’s injury, that she had
flopped down on the bed and had fallen asleep the instant her head had touched
the pillow.

With Janet’s assistance it was a simple matter to peel off the
habit and don a suitable muslin day dress. Further time was needed to re-dress
her hair, but even so she left her visitors kicking their heels in the front
parlour for no more than twenty minutes or so.

‘Why, Lieutenant Henshaw, this is a most unexpected pleasure!’
She could only pray the feigned delighted surprise sounded convincing enough.
Beneath her ribcage her heart was thumping so loudly she felt both men must
surely hear it. Much depended on her performance now. Luke’s future, maybe even
his life, might be in real jeopardy if she couldn’t convince these two officers
that he was in no way involved in anything unlawful. The truth of the matter
was, of course, she wasn’t at all convinced of his complete innocence
herself!

‘I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting. My housekeeper had a
little difficulty locating my whereabouts. I’m afraid I find this very hot
weather most disagreeable and hide myself in the shadiest parts of the garden
whenever I’m granted the opportunity. Now, gentlemen, won’t you sit down?’

‘Thank you, no, ma’am. We shall not take up more of your time
than is necessary,’ the Lieutenant answered in his usual stiffly formal manner,
thereby denying his older companion the opportunity to rest his legs.

‘Now, ma’am, I was assured by your housekeeper that your
husband left the house at first light in order to travel to Kent. Are you
prepared to confirm this?’

Her appearance of utter bewilderment was masterly. ‘But, of
course! Why ever should you doubt it? I did not precisely see him ride out of
the drive, you understand. But I packed an overnight bag for him myself before
retiring.’

Briony seated herself, striving to maintain the appearance of
normality, tinged with puzzlement. ‘Surely my housekeeper explained…? My husband
received an urgent message late last night from Kent. His uncle has suffered
indifferent health for some few years. When he visited him quite recently he
noticed a change in him and wasn’t unduly surprised by the summons.’

The Lieutenant appeared to consider what he’d been told. ‘Why
then, ma’am, if the trip was so urgent, did he not take his own carriage? Surely
it would have been more convenient for his needs?’

So, the Lieutenant had ridden round to the stables on his
arrival and perhaps had chanced to see Luke’s light travelling carriage still in
the coach house. How observant! Curse him! But, then, in his line of work, she
reflected, he had possibly trained himself not to overlook the smallest detail,
no matter how insignificant it might seem. Oh, wasn’t she thankful she had had
forethought enough to prepare for just such an inquisition!

‘My husband, sir, has yet to stable horses on the main highway
to London.’ At least that much was true! ‘And he refuses to hire job horses for
the purpose,’ she went on. ‘He maintains the animals offered are notoriously
unreliable, likely to throw a shoe or run lame. Had he been granted more time
before departure, naturally he would have arranged to travel by hired carriage.
He hoped to do so in Dorchester. If not, it was his intention to travel on the
Mail, it being much faster than the stage.

‘You’ll appreciate my curiosity, I’m sure,’ she continued,
after a significant moment’s silence. ‘But why all this interest in my husband’s
whereabouts? What possible concern can it be of yours? Is there some urgent
matter you wish to discuss with him?’

For the first time Lieutenant Henshaw betrayed a touch of
unease. His slight discomfiture, however, was as nothing when compared to the
seasoned officer’s by his side, who refused to meet her gaze and stared
resolutely down at the patterned carpet, transferring his weight from one foot
to the other at frequent intervals.

‘Well, the position is this, ma’am,’ the young Customs’ officer
finally unlocked his tightly compressed lips to announce, ‘the—er—
gentlemen
were abroad last night. We received word
that a cargo of smuggled goods would be landed somewhere here along the coast in
our area. Major Flint’s men were spread a little too thinly, keeping watch on
half-a-dozen regular landing places that we know about. Four of his men gave
chase while a fifth went in search of reinforcements. The gang of smugglers was
well armed. Two soldiers were killed in the line of duty, and a further was
hurt. Unfortunately, the gang successfully disappeared under cover of darkness
before more members of the militia arrived.’

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

B
riony’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.’