Gypsy Lady (4 page)

For a moment Jefferson
smiled to himself and blessed the whim that some fifty years ago had taken the
old duke of Roxbury to Louisiana to inspect a tract of land he had won on the
turn of a card. It was there that he had met and taken as his second wife the
young Frenchwoman, Arabella St. Clair. Guy was the result of that marriage, and
it was his older half brother who was now the present duke of Roxbury, and—most
importantly to Jefferson— personal advisor to Prime Minister Addington. Roxbury
had been advisor and confidant of more than one prime minister of England, but
it was his current connection to Addington that interested Jefferson—that and
the fact that young Savage would be staying with Roxbury for part of his time
in London.

With that in mind,
Jefferson asked, "Well, Jason, are you going to do it—carry my dispatches
to Rufus King?"

Jason's
lips quirked into a rueful smile.
"Why not?" he replied
in a slightly accented voice.
"I don't care for the present
situation in New Orleans. The Spanish closing the port last month to the
Americans was a stupid thing to have done, and I definitely would not like to
see Napoleon annex the territory. Are you certain of your facts?"

Jefferson bit his lip, his
forehead wrinkled into a frown. Finally he admitted, "No, I'm not
certain—no one is. But there is no denying the fact that rumors from high
places are currently circulating Europe that Spain by a secret treaty has
turned the Louisiana Territory back to France. I have Livingston in Paris
trying to discover if there is any basis in the rumor, but so far France has
been excessively coy with her answers. Unfortunately, I must make plans for
the possibility that France is the new owner of the territory. And it is for
that reason you will carry orders to Rufus King in London for him to seek an
alliance with England. A military alliance with England is repugnant to me, but
it is the only hope we have except to pray that France and England will soon
renew hostilities. And there is every sign that they will! No one expects this
treaty of Amiens to last. But in the meantime, it is imperative that we
negotiate with England, for I believe that she does not desire, any more than
we do, a French empire in the new world."

Silently Jason concurred.
No one wanted Napoleon in New Orleans—except perhaps Napoleon and the French
population of Louisiana. Jason certainly didn't. And it was for that reason he
had agreed to carry Jefferson's letters to Rufus King, currently the American
minister in England, and to hold himself in readiness should Robert Livingston
in Paris need him. That and to convince his uncle Roxbury to give a favorable
nod to the proposed American-English alliance. Altogether, he decided with a
grin, his trip to England should prove very, very interesting.

Catching sight of Jason's
grin, Jefferson snapped testily, "You find this all amusing?"

His grin vanishing, Jason
admitted, "No—not the situation in Louisiana. I was just thinking how my
innocent trip to England to buy horses had become colored with overtones of
political intrigue."

Jefferson grunted.
"Speaking of political intrigue—are you positive it was Bias Davalos you
saw yesterday?"

"I'm positive."

"But why would he
avoid you? You two used to be quite good friends, weren't you? Whatever caused
the break?
Some woman?
Or is it that he is a
lieutenant in the Spanish army that makes you dislike him?"

A grim smile flitted across
Jason's dark face. "His being in the Spanish army definitely makes me dislike
him —and the fact that he apparently followed me from New Orleans, and doesn't
want me to know it! But the break between us happened before this—and it wasn't
over a woman."

Curious, Jefferson couldn't
help asking, "Well, what was the real reason?"

Avoiding Jefferson's
question, Jason said, "You met him once."

"Did I?"
Jefferson asked surprised, his shaggy eyebrows
raising
.

"About five years ago
he came with me on one of my dutiful-son visits to Greenwood. We were here for
almost two months, and you met him a few times then."

"Oh yes, I recall
now—slender, black-eyed fellow about your age and typically Spanish, swarthy
skin and all."

"Bias
is
Spanish—which makes me wonder why he is here in Virginia and not in New
Orleans."

"Hmmm, you have a
point there. But you've also very cleverly not answered my question—what caused
the trouble between you?"

Jason seemed to hesitate as
if he would not talk of it. Finally he asked, "Do you also remember a
meeting with Phillip Nolan?"

Jefferson looked startled
but admitted, "Yes, he came to see me once a couple of years ago—seemed a
very intelligent young man.
Pity about his death."

Feeling the familiar
tightening in his gut at the mention of Phillip's death, Jason said in a harsh
tone, "Yes, it was a pity. And Davalos was the man who murdered him!"

Jefferson appeared shocked
and cried, "Are you sure? The report only said that Nolan was killed
trying to escape from the Spanish troop sent to stop his exploration."

Unable to just rudely
change the conversation, Jason briefly and unemotionally reported to Jefferson
the true facts of what had happened on that last journey of Nolan's. He ended
by saying, "And as you know Nolan's body was later returned, so you see it
was not an accident."

Deeply troubled, Jefferson
replied, "No, obviously not." Then as if struck by a new thought, he
asked seriously, "Jason, do you really think that Davalos is following
you?"

Jason shrugged. "Why
else would he be here?"

"I don't like it at
all! Perhaps it would be wise if we knew exactly why Davalos has left New
Orleans."

Relieved that Jefferson had
expressed precisely his own thoughts, Jason said quietly, "If you will let
me, I would prefer to have someone of my own choosing discover what Davalos is
up to."

Jefferson looked at him
steadily for a moment before asking, "Someone you trust?
Implicitly?
Remember, we want no undue attention connected
to your trip to England. Livingston may never have need of the information I
have given you, but if he should, he will send for you. And in view of that, we
do not want every agent in Europe watching every move you make."

Nodding in agreement, Jason
smiled reassuringly. "Trust me to be most circumspect." Beyond that
he would say no more.

Rather grudgingly Jefferson
said, "Very well. I shall leave the details to you, but I cannot stress
strongly enough the need for the utmost secrecy. We positively cannot risk a
war with Spain at this point—despite what that hothead Andrew Jackson
claims!"

Jason grinned. It was well
known that Jackson would be delighted to march immediately on New Orleans and
throw Spain off the entire Mississippi River. Jefferson was not precisely
opposed to the idea—merely the timing!

Still smiling, Jason asked,
"Have you any further instructions?"

"No, no. You have the
dispatches, and everything else is in your head. Don't, I might add, forget any
of it!"

Jason laughed at that.
"I assure you, I shall not! Well, then, if you have nothing else, I'll be
off—we won't meet again until my return, for my ship sails on the evening tide
tomorrow."

A few minutes later Jason
was astride a lean chestnut stallion riding in the direction of Greenwood.
Shortly, he approached the tree-lined drive that led to his father's house, but
there was no feeling of returning home. Greenwood held too many unpleasant
memories for him, and he and Guy, though they tried, could never be in each
other's company very long without nearly coming to blows. It was, Jason decided
without amusement, unfortunate that they both liked their own way and did not
take kindly to interference. Add to that flash point tempers and their
relationship was not surprising. For a moment Jason smiled. Arabella St. Clair
had been noted for her quick temper, and it appeared she had passed it undiluted
onto her son and grandson.

Smiling, Jason rode his
horse to the large red brick stable that was directly behind the white columned
house, but hidden from view by a gently sloping hill. Tossing the reins to the
waiting stableboy, he slid to the ground.

He
started to walk away when a soft whistle to his left caused him to spin around.
Seeing the tall, proud-faced Indian rising from his apparent resting place in a
pile of sweet straw, Jason's face broke into a welcoming grin—a grin that was
matched by the one on the Indian's face.

"Blood
Drinker, you devil! How did you know I wanted to see you and in a damned big
hurry at that?"

Blood
Drinker, his black eyes reflecting an answering spark of laughter, murmured,
"It seemed reasonable that you would."

Jason's
grin faded as quickly as it had appeared, and without preamble he said,
"Davalos is here in Virginia."

Betraying
no surprise, Blood Drinker stated calmly, "It is unfortunate you did not
kill him when you had the chance. In any other man you would not tolerate what
he has done, and like the panther who lives in the swamps you would strike
swiftly and without mercy. But because he was your friend you hold back."

Jason
was silent, aware that there was more than just a little truth in what Blood
Drinker said. The quiet spun out for several seconds, each man lost in his own
thoughts, until finally Jason said, "I don't know what Bias is up to—it
could be nothing, or it could create a hell of a lot of trouble, and not just
for us! I want to know why he left New Orleans, and I want you to discover it
for me—quietly. If you find that the Spanish government has sent him to spy on
me, let Jefferson know that information the instant you can. If it turns out
that he's merely pursuing a vendetta between us—
that
little matter I will see to on my return."

Blood
Drinker nodded gravely. "It shall be done," he stated simply, and
Jason knew that Davalos was a worry he could safely forget about for now.

They
stared at one another for a moment; then, a grin lighting his features, Jason
changed the subject. "I shall miss you," he said mildly. "What a
devil of a time we could have together. London would never recover from
you—especially the ladies!"

Answering
amusement flitted across the handsome chiseled features, and Blood Drinker
laughed. "My brother, it is you the ladies will never forget! It is not I
who the fond mamas look at with suspicion, and it is not I who cause jealous
husbands to guard their women so carefully!"

There was nothing more to
say, and after shaking hands solemnly, they parted, Blood Drinker drifting away
into the falling darkness and Jason striding towards his father's house.

Guy was seated in his den
at the rear of the house, and when Jason entered a few minutes later, he looked
up from the papers he had been studying and said, "Business all taken
care of?"

Jason nodded, helping
himself to some refreshment from an array of various liquors set on a cherry
wood cabinet. "It went well. With this last meeting behind me, it takes
care of all my business. From now until I leave tomorrow morning to join the
ship, I'm a man of leisure."

Guy smiled, and for some
seconds there was almost a friendly silence between them. Then Guy, his
sea-gray eyes hiding the justifiable pride that he felt at the sight of his
tall broad-shouldered son, asked idly, "Jason, other than the favor for
Jefferson, is your only reason for visiting England to buy horses? I know you
are taking advantage of the peace presently existing between France and
England, but I would think you could have postponed your trip until this
spring if you are planning on sending animals back to New Orleans."

Jason slowly walked over to
the fireplace. Setting his drink on the mantle, he looked at his father,
stretched out his hands to warm them from the fire, and said, "I thought I
explained the position to you some months ago in my letter. You yourself know
how bad the horse situation is in the Louisiana Territory. We need horses of
any type, and Armand and I have decided to establish a breeding farm either at
the home place, Beauvais, or on my own lands near the Red River, Terre du
Coeur. The sooner I can reach England and buy the necessary stock to begin the
stables, the sooner we can show some results. A breeding farm is not something
one accomplishes overnight, and we have wasted enough time as it is. I don't
wish to put off my departure any longer than I have—and now with the commitment
to Jefferson I cannot. I've postponed it once already as it is."

Guy nodded. "I realize
that. It was unfortunate that the Spanish decided to close the port. Was your
grandfather very upset by it?"

Shrugging and picking up
his drink, Jason answered, "The Spanish officials only closed New Orleans
to you

Americans.
It made no difference to
those of us in the territory. But because your countrymen were extremely, shall
we say, loud and outspoken about it, I thought it best to wait until the
situation had resolved itself."