The Folly (15 page)

She sat in front of the hearth,
drying her hair, finally feeling clean. 
The fire crackled merrily and she looked forward to getting into the nice, clean
,
feather bed which Jeremy was already occupying
,
gazing at her with longing
. 

“Come to bed, love.  You’ll catch cold sitting there in your shift.” 
Elizabeth
climbed into bed, allowing Jeremy to pull her close to warm her up.  The room was chilly despite the fire
,
and it was very noticeable that they were travelling
north
. 
Each morning dawned
chillier
than the one before
,
and the nights were crisp and cold.

Elizabeth closed her eyes in bliss as Jeremy began to suck on her earlobe
,
sliding his hand
down her
belly
.  It felt wonderful to be alone together and not be afraid of being
discovered.  The idea of actually sleeping with him all night was still new to her
,
and she loved the feel of him next to her when she
awoke
.  Most upper
-
class married couples didn
’
t share a bed, coming together only for the purposes of lust or procreation, but she had to admit that she loved the notion of
sleeping together
. 

She lost her train of thought as Jeremy lost interest in her ear and moved down to her tender breasts.  They felt sensitive and swollen
,
and she gasped as Jeremy took her nipple into his mouth
,
sucking gently.  He was very careful with her these days and she appreciated it, despite not really needing the special treatment just yet.  Her belly was still flat and the nausea had
abated
somewhat, leaving her
mostly
tired.  She could live with the fatigue, if that was the only symptom for now
,
and assured Jeremy that she was well.  

Jeremy flipped her over
onto her belly
,
taking her right ankle and bending her leg
.
  She moaned as she felt his fingers sliding into her, moving deeper and faster, rousing her body to his.  Elizabeth began to move her hips against him instinctively
,
as he pinned down her wrist
s
with his hands and entered her from behind.  She closed her eyes in
ecstasy
, enjoying the feeling of fullness as he moved slowly and tantalizingly inside her. 
Her insides began to quiver as he spilled himself inside her, kissing her shoulder and covering her body with his own.   

Chapter
2
7

Elizabeth
lightly ran her fingers over the puckered scar tissue on Jeremy’s left shoulder as he slept.  The scar was obviously an old one, but the skin still felt ropey and hard.  Elizabeth pulled away her hand as Jeremy rolled onto his back and smiled up at her, catching her hand in his. 

“Are you cataloguing my scars for lack of anything better to do?”  He pulled her to him and settled her head on his shoulder, right over his heart.

“Jeremy, were you shot in the back?  Was it during a retreat?”  She could feel him grow tense next to her and inhale as if striving for patience.

“Not exactly.  It was during a duel, or after the duel
,
to be more precise.  It was a long time ago.”  Elizabeth could tell that he didn’t really care to talk about it, but she was curious.  What would be important enough for him to duel over, especially during a time of war?

“Was it over a woman?”  She hoped not.

“Yes, it was.”  Elizabeth felt a wave of jealousy well up inside her, making her feel as if her guts were on fire.  He said he had never loved anyone, but she must have been someone very special.  Jeremy wrapped one of her curls around his finger a
nd tugged gently, smiling.  “It’s not
what you think, Lizzie.  I didn’t love her.”

“Then tell me about it,” Elizabeth insisted.  She felt an overwhelming need to know, no doubt due to Jeremy’s reluctance to speak of it.

“It was in July of 1809 during the Peninsula War, just a few days before the Battle of Talavera.  Her name was Rachel Hilson
,
and she was the mistress of one Captain Josiah Hastings.   Hastings was madly in love with her, but Rachel had her own plans; Hastings was just a stepping stone to bigger and better
things.  She was a clever girl
,
and had every intention of bettering her situation in life by choosing the right benefactors.  I believe she was faithful to Josiah, but that didn’t stop her from flirting outrageously with anyone she thought had potential to take his place.  He could be killed in battle at any time
,
and she had no plans of being left high and dry. 

Rachel only set her sights on men of wealth and rank
,
and I was of absolutely no interest to her until she found out that I was a future baronet.  Suddenly, she began to seek me out and make it abundantly clear that all I had to do was ask.  I hardly knew Hastings, but he had a reputation for being a hothead
, so
I tried to steer clear of the intrepid Miss Hilson.  If I wanted a woman
,
I didn’t need to steal her from another officer. 

I tried to let her down gently, but Rachel wasn’t accustomed to defeat.  One night
,
she came to my tent and climbed into bed with me while I was asleep, where the irate Captain Hastings found her.  I tried to assure him that nothing happened, but he was in no mood to listen
,
and challenged
me to a duel
right then and there.  I knew she’d planned the whole thing, but I wasn’t sure if she wanted to get rid of Hastings or punish me for rejecting her. 

In the morning
,
I met Hastings in the designated spot.  It was one of those perfect summer mornings when the mist is just dissipating to make way for the rising sun, the birds are singing
,
and the sky is so blue that it hurts your eyes.  I couldn’t believe the absurdity of the situation.  I knew Hastings had every intention of shooting to kill, that was the only way he would consider honor satisfied
,
and I was furious.  I had risked my life often enough
,
without having to do it over a woman I cared nothing for.  It was just a waste.  Our seconds went through the requisite farce of trying to get us to apologize and call it a day, but Hastings wouldn’t hear of it.  He was raring to go. 

Our seconds loaded the pistols
,
and handed them to us as we stood back to back and counted out ten paces.  Once we turned, we were ordered to shoot at will.  Hastings got in the first shot and missed.  He was normally a competent marksman, but he was so angry that his hand might have
shaken
.  I fired into the
air, infuriating him further.  The seconds called an end to the duel
,
and I turned to retrieve my coat.  Josiah Hastings shot me in the back.”

“What a cad!” Elizabeth exclaimed.  “Did he get away with it?”

“The seconds took him into custody and brought him before our commanding officer, Colonel Brand.  Most commanders tended to overlook dueling between officers, but this was now a case of attempted murder.  Hastings was court
-
martialed and sentenced to hang.”

“What happened to Rachel Hilson?”

“Rachel took up with someone else for a while, but he was killed shortly after
,
and eventually she began to charge for her favors.  She was very popular among the ranking officers
,
and she made a very nice living from what I understand.  She blamed me for Hasting’s death, despite the fact that she was actually responsible.”

Chapter
2
8

The succulent
aroma
of rabbit stew permeated the cottage, but Silas didn’t have much
of
an appetite.  He drained a cup of beer
,
and dumped the stew from his plate back into the p
ot.  It tasted like ashes
.  The letter burned a hole in his pocket and he took it out, putting it on the table in front of him
;
unable to get Simon’s words out of his head
.  It had come this morning
,
and Graves had one of the footmen deliver it to Silas personally.  He must have known it was important since Silas rarely got mail.  He used to get the
occasional
letter from Simon when his ship came into port
,
and he scribbled a few hasty lines just to let his parents know that he was well, but there hadn’t been anything since his son was arrested in June.  Silas unfolded the letter and read it one more time.  It didn’t hurt any less, but he needed to hear Simon’s voice even if it was bad news. 

September 23, 1815

Dear Father,

I hope this letter finds you in good health.  It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you that Alfie Nooks, the man I stabbed, has died of his injuries
last week
.  He hung on for so long
,
that I
hoped against
hope
that
he would survive, but it seems that my knife pierced his gut, causing him a slow and painful death, for which I am truly sorry. 
I was tried and sentenced yesterday
to d
eath by hanging.  The sentence is to be carried out on October 3, 1815 at
dawn.

Father, please forgive me for the hurt I have cause
d
you and pray for me.  May God have mercy on my soul.

Your son,

Simon Manson

Silas refolded the letter, tears blurring his vision.   October 3
rd
was next week.  He knew the truth about his son, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept that his only child would be
hanged
by the neck until he died
;
no one there to pray for him or give him comfort in his final hours.  The only blessing was that Adele had not lived to see this.  It would have broken her heart
,
and
killed her
as sure as the cancer that spread through her body. 

Silas threw the letter on the fire
,
wishing that it could burn away the truth as easily as it burned the paper.  He was just about to pour himself another cup of beer when there was a knock on the door.  Silas reached for the gun.  Who would want him at this hour? 
He
aimed the gun at the door and bid his
visitor
to enter.

“Sir Henry!”  Silas hastily lowered the gun, backing away from the door.  Sir Henry was about the last person he had expected to come calling.  As far as he could recall, he had never set foot in the gamekeeper’s cottage
,
and as the surprise began to wear off, Silas wondered what he could possibly want.

“Please, sit down.  Can I offer you a cup of beer?”  Silas wasn’t sure what the protocol was for having a
b
aronet in your house, so he just waited for Sir Henry to speak.

“Thank you, Manson.  A cup of beer would be just the thing.”  He sat down at the scrubbed table, rubbing his hands together as if a cup of beer was all he wanted in the world.  Silas fetched the beer and stood awkwardly next to the table.

“Sit down, Manson.  I’d like a word.” 

Sir Henry waited for Silas to sit down and drained his beer, putting the
dented
cup on the table.  “Silas, I
’
m in a position to do you a great kindness, if you would be willing to do me one in return.  I know about your son’s predicament and I think I can help.  I need a little favor
from you
.  Would you be willing to
help
me?”

“Certainly.  Anything, Sir Henry.  Would you really be able to help
my
Simon?”  Silas couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  What kind of favor warranted helping a murderer escape the noose? 

“As I am sure you know
,
my wife and son have gone missing. 
Rumor has it that they
are lovers and have
run off together.”  Sir Henry watched Silas with narrowed eyes, waiting for his reaction.

“I
’
m sure there’s no truth to that, Sir Henry.”

“Oh, but there is, Silas.  My
lovely
wife has been cuckolding me with my
late
wife’s bastard
,
and then she ran off with him when she found herself with child.”  Sir Henry continued to watch Silas, his eyes never leaving the old man’s face. 

“I
’
m sure I don’t know what to say, Sir Henry.
”

“Say you’ll help me.  I will make it worth your while.”  Henry smiled, but there was no warmth in his gaze, just something that made Silas’s blood run cold. 

“What did you have in mind, Sir Henry?”  Silas asked, afraid to hear the answer.