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Authors: T. Davis Bunn

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BOOK: The Solitary Envoy
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She stared at him. “If you weren’t my brother, I do believe I would have to marry you.”

“No chance of that, I’m afraid. Besides, I shall never marry.”

“Don’t talk nonsense. Of course you shall.”

“Marriage is a lot of bother, if you ask me. I can tip my hat to all the ladies now and whistle up the wind. Once a female has her hooks in me, I’ll be obliged to behave. You know how I hate to behave, Erica.”

When they pulled up in front of the War Office, Erica alighted from the carriage with a smile on her face. “Do you remember what to say?”

“Don’t worry, sister. I have all of Father’s proper words written down and stowed in my pocket. You want to see?”

“You shouldn’t make a joke of everything.”

“And why not? You frown enough for the whole family.”

“I do no such thing.”

“Erica, you are the queen of frowns. You frown from your hair to your fingertips. Like this.” He pulled his features into a ridiculous scowl.

“Don’t make such terrible faces.” She allowed him to take her elbow and escort her up the front stairs. “Else I shall have to tell Father you made an utter mess of everything.”

“So? Just watch me.”

She was forced to regain her composure as they entered the long office. A battery of desks was arrayed at the far end, behind a waist-high partition. A sentry stood duty at the passage through the barrier, with a clerk standing alongside taking names. The room was filled with somber gentlemen smoking and talking in grave tones.

Even Reggie was brought up short by the atmosphere. “What do I do now?” he whispered.

She whispered back, “Give your name to the clerk and say you are here to receive word on our tender.”

“Right. Of course.” He straightened his frock coat. “Leave it to me.”

Erica was the only woman in the room, which happened often and yet always left her ill at ease. She felt every eye upon her as she stood and waited by the exit. Then a familiar face emerged from the waiting throng, and Horace Cutter bowed with more grace than she would have thought possible from his angular frame.

“Miss Erica, what a delightful surprise.”

“A very good morning, I’m sure, Master Cutter.” She smiled with genuine relief. “How do you happen to be here today?”

“I am drawn by the same reason as you, I suspect.”

“I am merely accompanying my brother, as you see.”

Horace might have been an awkward young man whose social graces were somewhat lacking, but he was his father’s son when it came to business, and he observed Erica with a very shrewd eye. “More likely it is the other way around.”

She did not dispute that. Instead, she snapped open her fan and waved it before her face. “A pity they all feel obliged to smoke. The air is quite close.”

“I have noticed a number of them puffing upon your own little invention.”

“I invented nothing, and you know it.”

“My mother thinks you are quite the most remarkable woman.”

“How is your mother?”

“She is well, and I am sure she would have sent you her fondest regards had she known of this meeting.”

“Please remember me to her.” Erica chose her words carefully. “Tell her I shall remain ever in her debt.”

“Indeed I shall.” He nodded to the murmuring throng behind him. “The world is awash with rumors this day.”

She had to struggle to hide the sudden tension. “Tell me what they are saying.”

“Most of it is stuff and nonsense, as you well know. Idle men making idle chatter.”

“Horace, please, I beg of you. For once treat me as an equal and not an addlepated woman.” The strain of holding to a polite whisper caused her voice to tremble. “Those men would never speak to me, but I desperately need to know what they are saying. Is that not why you came? To listen and to observe?”

Horace examined her long and hard. “They speak of war.”

“But of course they do. What are they saying specifically?”

“That it will be fought upon the seas. That America’s navy is not well equipped. That we do not possess enough ships, nor are the ships we own of the fastest sort.”

An idea came to her in a flash. She hid her sudden thrill behind a fluttering fan and a delicate cough. “What else?”

“The British broadsheets have made no mention of our declaration of war.”

This time she could not hide her astonishment. “That’s impossible.”

Her tone drew stares. Erica flipped her fan as fast as a butterfly’s wing and turned to observe down the hall. Her brother now stood before one of the desks. “How can that be true?”

“I assure you it is. All Europe’s attention is focused upon the battles with Napoleon. More than half a million men stand to arms, from Siberia to Salamanca.”

“But surely they must consider us a threat.”

“A threat to trade. Not as foes in war. I have read the broadsheets myself, Miss Erica. Everything they speak of has to do with trade. How our embargo against British goods will soon cause workers in their mill towns to starve. How we must be brought to pay for our aggression. But also how this must wait.”

She saw the flicker in his gaze. “You are not telling me something.”

“My father …”

“Go on.”

“My father would be most displeased to see us speaking in such a manner.”

“Then speak to me as would please your mother. I implore you, Horace.”

He sighed. “My father says all the English papers are controlled by allies to the Crown. That if we want to learn what the people are thinking, we must read the pamphlets.”

Erica was well aware of the power of pamphleteers. They printed small booklets and sold them for a halfpenny apiece.

Pamphlets were written on every subject under the sun, from medicinal cures to frontier tales. “And what do the British pamphlets say?”

“That we are justified in our cause. That if only the British Crown were to accept our independence and court our favor, we would become strong allies. That they have missed a great opportunity.”

Their conversation was halted by Reggie’s excited approach. “We have it!”

“What?” For an instant Erica could not recall what he was speaking of.

“The tender! Our tender offer has been accepted!”

The entire chamber ceased its banter. Horace said, “This will mean a great deal of new business for Langston’s. My congratulations to you and your family.”

“Hello there, Horace.” Reggie cast his easy grin, utterly unfazed by all the attention. “You are well?”

“Other than a bit envious of your good fortune this day, I am most well.” He cast his gaze back to Erica. “I trust the rumors I hear of Langston’s current difficulties are untrue?”

She refused to lie to this young man, especially after he had spoken to her with such candor. “We face the perils of everyone doing business in such uncertain times. But we will survive.”

“I am glad to hear it.” He opened the door and bowed them through. “Washington would be a far poorer place without Langston’s good name.”

Forrest Langston heard out his daughter’s report in silence. When she finished recounting what she had heard, he continued staring out the window. His face had aged considerably over the past few weeks. Erica noticed new creases in his forehead and grayer tints to his hair.

“What does it all mean, Father?”

“That we have more time for our preparations, so long as these rumors are true.”

They had been frantically purchasing supplies that would be difficult to obtain if the British blockade tightened. The warehouse was now full to the brim and their funds almost depleted.

Forrest continued speaking to the sunlight. “I have heard other rumors, however. That Britain has been preparing an army in Canada. They intend to empty the northern provinces of troops so as to catch us unawares.”

Her father had begun to speak to her thus, examining unfinished ideas in her company, weighing options. Had the circumstances been better, she would be reveling in this new level of trust. As it was, however, Erica would have given anything to return to earlier days. They seemed so carefree now from where she sat.

Carter stood quietly to the side. One glance was enough to show her that the loyal old man did not understand the situation any better than she did. “What does this mean?”

“Nothing, unless or until we discover where these troops will attack. If they exist at all.”

Reggie piped up, “But this War Office contract is wonderful news, isn’t it, Father?”

As always, his son’s presence was enough to bring a hint of cheer to Forrest’s features. “You have done well, my boy.”

Reggie beamed with pleasure. “If you’re finished with me here, I’ll change and return to the warehouse. There are a hundred tasks awaiting me.”

“Go on then. Off with you.” But the light in Forrest’s face dimmed as the door shut behind his son. He stared at the tender offer on his desk and murmured, “How on earth shall we pay for this new tender? Our credit with the banks is taken right up to the limit. And the government only compensates upon delivery.”

“I have an idea, Father.”

Forrest Langston could not hide his skepticism. “Out with it, then.”

Erica took a very hard breath. “The American navy is seeking fast ships. We could sell them our new vessel.”

The idea pushed her father back in his seat. “Sell my
Erica
?”

“Think of it, Father. Sailing in these wartime conditions would be doubly dangerous, would it not? All the shipbuilders are frantically busy, but new vessels take time. We have one that is almost complete.”

The idea even brought a smile to Carter’s face, which merely rearranged the hard edges of his angular visage. With an approving glance at Erica he said, “I must say, sir, this is quite a brilliant concept.”

“The idea pains me deeply,” Forrest protested.

“The government would pay a fancy premium for a clipper almost ready for sea, sir.”

Forrest could not argue with that, much as he wanted. He sighed long and hard. “Very well. I will speak to the authorities this very afternoon.” He examined his daughter. “You have done well, lass.”

“Thank you, Father.”

“Very well indeed. I am proud of you.” He formed two fists, planted them on his desk, and pushed himself to his feet. “And I give you my word that I will lay the keel for a new
Erica
as soon as these troubles are behind us.”

Chapter 6

Erica pulled back the drapes in her father’s study, letting in the fresh light of a new day. She pried open the central window and breathed deeply. The air was laden with the fragrances of summer. From an oak across the way, a cardinal burst into song.

“It’s over,” she murmured, scarcely able to believe it herself.

“What’s that, daughter?”

She turned to watch her father shuffle into his office. “The hardship is truly behind us.”

He moved over to stand beside her and scratched at his face. Erica needed to look no farther than her beloved father to see just how long and harsh these months had been. Forrest Langston had always been fastidious in his dress. It was as much a part of who he was as his great booming laugh. But there had been little cause for merriment in these days. As Erica stood and felt the sun’s warmth upon her cheek, she tried to recall the last time she had heard her father laugh.

“Why do you regard me so?”

She started as though coming awake. “I was just thinking … that word should come today about the latest peace efforts.”

“Aye, that it should.” Her father’s traditional good humor had been replaced by mounting ire. That and numerous bouts of ill health had aged him. He had taken to rubbing his chest above his heart and complained of vague pains that moved out from his ribs to his left arm, sometimes all the way down to his fingers. His once ruddy cheeks now sagged. He ate without tasting anything and stared into space for long periods of time.

“You instructed our agents to send word as soon as possible?”

Erica had to clear her throat before she could speak. Sorrow still cracked every word. “Yes, Father.”

But Forrest did not notice his daughter’s state. “I should be ever so glad to have this war behind us. Then we shall take aim, and—”

“And do what, Forrest? Do what, precisely?” Mildred Langston appeared in the doorway to her husband’s office. “Whatever could be of such vital importance that you would appear in public in your dressing gown?”

“Have I done that?” Forrest Langston glanced down at his own form. “Have I indeed?”

“Forrest, my dear husband, you are worrying me.” Mildred crossed the room to take her husband’s hand. “Do you not see how this anger of yours is consuming you?”

Erica could not stifle her sob. She was filled with such a mixture of emotions. Distress over her father, relief that her mother had finally expressed her own worries.

Forrest drew himself fully upright. “Do I not have cause for anger? Am I not justified in wanting to identify those who seek to destroy us?”

“Listen to me, my husband. You have lost sight of everything else. You are afflicted in the very core of your being.”

“In case you had not noticed, we were almost destroyed by this matter. The English bankers came within a hairbreadth of doing us in.”

BOOK: The Solitary Envoy
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