Pride of the King, The (39 page)

Still she did not hear him. Lauren kicked his shins and clawed his arms.

“Listen to me. You are not his wife!”

Mad with panic, she continued to struggle furiously, flinging curses at him in French.

“Stop it, now!” James demanded. “You are not his wife!”

Exhausted at last and panting, Lauren blinked, trying to read St. Clare’s eyes. At last she listened to him. “What? What did you say?”

“You are not his wife, Lauren. You are
my
wife!”

Chapter 41

Lauren stared at James, trying to comprehend his words. “I am
your
wife. Are you mad?” She tried to wrench free again and James tightened his grip.

“Listen to me. That was
not
Heathstone you married in New Orleans all those years ago. That was me.” Lauren tossed her head trying to clear the hair from her eyes and said, “Well, then you are better at masquerade than I realized.”

“It was a marriage by
proxy
.”

“What?”

“Proxy, stand in. Heathstone was my stand in. Think back Lauren, the ceremony was in English. You did not understand a single word. I approached the Mother Superior asking for the hand of a French orphan girl, and by the time you were of age, I was in a British prison. Heathstone went in my place.”

Lauren’s eyes grew large with astonishment. “Then the marriage is not real?”

“Oh, it is most certainly real and legal. The royals have done marriage by proxy for centuries.”

Lauren blinked as if waking from a dream and pushed the hair from her face. James loosened his grip and stepped back.

She pulled at her gown, straightening her bodice and skirt, her eyes never leaving St. Clare’s face. “Why?” she gasped. “Why did you want to marry
me
?”

James did not answer at first, searching for the right words. Finally he said, “I needed someone who could introduce
The Pride of the King to New France. I needed someone who knew the language and the way of life, so we could infiltrate the French colony. I could find no one suitable in New England, no one at all, so I contacted the Ursulines to ask for the hand of an orphan girl.”

Lauren said nothing. She was too overwhelmed to speak. She thought of all the times she had cried herself to sleep thinking she was married to an old man, how she had fled New France and lived on the streets of New York terrified and hungry and how James had held her in his arms over and over again never admitting the truth about their marriage.

Suddenly the frenzy of betrayal ignited within her. Her eyes narrowed and she said, “All this time you played me for a fool!”

Before he could stop her, she slapped him squarely across the face and said, “I hate you!” and bolted out the door.

*         *          *

Moments later, Lauren threw open the entrance of the Van den Berg manor with a crash and shouted, “I want to talk to both of you!”

Heloise and Cornelius stood frozen at the top of stairs. They were dressed in traveling clothes, their eyes like saucers. “We must make haste, dear,” Heloise said uncertainly to Lauren. “Corny and I are to leave for Providence tonight.”

“No one goes anywhere until I get some answers,” Lauren ordered, slamming the door behind her. She swept up the stairs and Heloise and Cornelius stepped back as if she was about to strike them.

“How long have you known?” Lauren hissed leaning close to Heloise.

The feather in Heloise’s hat quivered nervously. “About what, dear?”

“You know what I am talking about. How long!”

Heloise swallowed hard and stuttered, “Since-well, since before the brothel. We knew long before we met you at Madame Vanoss’ establishment.”

Lauren gasped. “You knew who I was before you approached me at that whore house?”

“Yes-yes we did. Vanoss had been looking for you for months. The moment she found you, she notified us. We came immediately to interview you to make sure you were the girl from the Ursuline convent.”

Lauren studied Heloise’s face.

“She--” Lauren struggled to understand. “She worked for the ‘
Pride
’ too?”

“No,” said Heloise. “But she has known Captain St. Clare for years.”

Lauren turned away, running her hands through her hair. Cornelius stepped up to steady her, easing her down onto a hall chair.

“I hated knowing everything and not telling you, darling,” he said. You must believe me. Mother and I could say nothing. We did not like deceiving you.”

Heloise nodded. “I advised James repeatedly to explain everything to you, but he chose to remain mute on the subject. He is a most unusual man, my dear.”

It seemed to Lauren as if James St. Clare had orchestrated her entire life. Through his people, he had watched her every move and had heard her every word. It seemed as if he had manipulated every facet of her existence. She rubbed her eyes and dragged her hands down her face. She felt utterly weary and overwhelmed. She asked breathlessly, “And what about the ship Heathstone and I sailed on to New England? That too was part of The Pride of the King?”

Heloise nodded again. “That vessel was smuggling lead from the Kaskaskia lead mines, bound for the Hudson to be made into shot and firearms. That is why the crew disappeared when the customs officers boarded the vessel.”

Lauren nodded. “Leaving a French girl in New York all alone.”

“Captain St. Clare was furious,” said Cornelius. “Twice Heathstone let you slip away.”

“The first time was during the hurricane,” said Heloise. “We thought you were dead, washed away in the fury but several years later you were found again.”

“How did you find me on the Mississippi?”

“That was an accident. The Kaskaskia lead mines are known for doing business with everyone, not only the French, but also the Dutch and even the English. The Captain sent Heathstone there to purchase lead for shot.”

“Oh, Mon Dieu!” Lauren gasped her heart pounding. “Are the mine owners part of the organization too?”

“Goodness no, my dear. The Pride of the King
is far reaching, but it does not go beyond New England. That is why we obtained you as a contact; to infiltrate New France.”

Lauren sighed, and slumped back in her chair. The thought of Jean-Baptist and Claude being a part of The Pride of the King was indeed terrifying.

Heloise sat down by Lauren. “Damn St. Clare,” she grumbled. “Leaving me with this unsavory business.” She sighed and continued, “He wanted to infiltrate New France. There was simply no one in New England of French background who would be suitable for the position. As you know dear, seldom do our two worlds mix. I happened to think of the Ursulines in New Orleans. They are, of course, known the world over for turning out girls of exceptional breeding, and since James was unmarried, it seemed the perfect solution. We wrote to the Sisters asking them if they had any young women of age without prospects and they recommended you. Unfortunately, James went to prison a few months later, but as you know his power is far reaching and he managed to direct, The Pride of the King
from his confinement. He sent Adair Heathstone to marry you in his place. The plan was to bring you to New York, teach you English, explain everything to you and set you to work as a connection with New France but--” and she paused, “the hurricane changed everything.”

“I ended up in Kaskaskia,” whispered Lauren.

“Yes, we found you only to lose you again on the streets of New York where Madame Vanoss had been watching for you.”

“I cannot believe that creature knew everything,” groaned Lauren. “It seems everyone knew I was married to St. Clare, but me.”

“No, darling, none of the crew knew,” explained Corny. “No one else in ‘The Pride of the King
’
knows your circumstances.”

Lauren’s tear stained eyes suddenly grew wide again. It occurred to her that the land in the Hudson River Valley had been hers all along because of this marriage. She had gone to Fort Frederic and sold herself to a French aristocrat to buy land that was rightfully hers. “This is indeed the final insult. St. Clare paid me with my own property!” she gasped.

The dogs started to bark as horses thundered up the driveway to the front door. Lauren was too engrossed in her own thoughts to notice Heloise and Cornelius gather their bags, and start down the stairs. She looked up only when Ben Groot burst through the front door as thunder cracked.

“We have no time,” he bellowed in his deep bass voice. “Everyone must go!”

James pushed past the giant and took the stairs two at a time up to Lauren. “Get your things. We have locked customs officers in the hold of the fluyt. They found our contraband.”

“My God, James!” Heloise called up the stairs. “You have kidnapped customs officers! I fear you have gone too far this time.”

James laughed. “I believe I have this time, old girl, isn’t it wonderful? We shall drop our new friends in Pennsylvania free of charge.”

The Benchs scurried out the front door, and the moment they climbed into the carriage, Ben Groot jumped into the driver’s seat and cracked his whip, sending the horses bolting down the driveway.

“We must leave now,” James urged, taking Lauren’s arm. “We have much to discuss but there is no time. We are in great peril.”

“No,
you
are in great peril,” Lauren replied. “I am no longer a part of The Pride of the King
.
”

Picking up a candle, she turned mechanically and walked to her bedchamber. Without a word, she began to stuff personal items into a bag.

James followed her to the door. “What the hell are you doing? You are surrounded by wilderness and there is a war going on in the north with the French.”

“You forget that I survived on the streets of New York all alone. I can do it on the frontier as well.” She pushed past him down the stairs and out into the pouring rain.

He followed her into the deluge, and grabbed her wrist. Shouting over the downpour he said, “If you don’t come with me now, you will most certainly die.”

Something in his voice made Lauren stop and listen. The rain poured down upon them. “No,” he said. “That’s not true. If you do not come with me,
I
will most certainly die.”

Lauren was stunned. Never had his words held more emotion. Never had his face shown more distress. She wanted to run into his arms, but she jumped back and pulled a pistol from the pocket of her gown.

Startled, he looked at the weapon and then up at her face. She saw the hurt in his eyes and he murmured, “Why?”

“I warned you someday I would leave you. You are a liar and a cheat,” she said holding her arm over the weapon to keep the powder dry. “You have deceived me on every count from matrimony to my own property. I should kill you, but I would be pursued for it. From now on, I will find my own way and try to erase the shame of being married to a man that never deserved a name.”

There was a long silence as they stared at each other, the rain drenching them. Lauren watched the struggle on St. Clare’s face, then without a word, he mounted his horse and rode away into the storm.

Chapter 42

All night Lauren sat with the pistol on her lap in her bedchamber. She shook with emotion for the first few hours then dozed fitfully the rest of the night in front of the fire, too anxious to sleep soundly. At the first light of day she took her bag and crept down the stairs to the dining room of the Van den Berg manor. She could hear the servants in the kitchen as she filled her bag with bread, cheese and sausages.

Lauren chose not to wait for a vessel to stop at the Van den Berg estate. There was no time to lose. She knew before the day was over the authorities would be questioning everyone at the home about
The Pride of the King
. The post road was a safer alternative.

The cold morning air swept the cobwebs from her head as she walked briskly down the path heading south. It was quiet this time of year when the Hudson was still open and free of ice. During the milder months, the road was not used because the river was a more efficient form of transportation but very soon, when the ice made passage impossible on the Hudson, the post road would become a very busy thoroughfare.

Lauren pulled her cloak closely around her shoulders and touched the pistol in her waistband. It had been months since James had given her shooting lessons, but she knew what she lacked in skill she made up for in resolve. Without realizing it, Lauren had returned to her survival instincts and a cold calm enveloped her. She remembered St. Clare speaking of a woman by the name of Quill who needed help at a tavern near Hampsted. She knew it could only be a temporary position because it would be the first place St. Clare would search for her, but for now he was gone and the frozen days of winter were arriving inhibiting transportation. Hampsted would be unreachable.

It took her two days to walk to the settlement. She spent the first bitter night in a barn and the second night in the burned out remains of an old cabin. She met few people along the post road and when she did encounter someone she remained aloof, hugging her pistol closely. By the afternoon of the second day she reached the outskirts of Hampsted. Lauren wondered if she was in fact passing near her own property. At first the thought elated her, but it was quickly replaced by bitter disappointment when she remembered that it was indeed and always had been St. Clare’s land.