It was delaying her, to soothe and divert him. Leah must be helped to pack, the coachman told. She finally spoke a little sharply and Alastair took his leave to his rooms.
Leah went down to speak to the coachman, and ordered some food prepared against the journey. They would not stop except to change horses. Word would be sent ahead to arrange that. It made others curious, this unexpected trip made in such haste.
Alastair was angry with her, and the girls very puzzled, when Sonia departed early the next morning. Alastair had risen early, too, to see her off. His grim face was the last one she saw as the carriage rolled down the driveway to the open road.
She leaned back into the comfortable squabs with a sigh of relief and dejection. She would have a time soothing his ruffled feelings when she returned. But when her uncle called her so urgently, she had to go.
They made a long day of it, changed horses and proceeded through the night. They rolled into London at about midnight of the second day, going directly to see Meyer Goldfine at Sonia’s townhouse.
He was still up, unusual for him, and was waiting for her in his dark red robe and his little skullcap to keep him warm. He pressed her hands — his fingers were cold.
“Uncle, you must be ill!” she exclaimed, holding his hands in her warm ones, and surveying his drawn face anxiously.
He shook his head. “No, no, I am not ill. Tomorrow, Sonia, you will go to the home of your cousin Jacob, to see the baby. From there, Jacob will take you to see — a friend. You must go, I beg of you.”
“Alone?” asked Sonia.
Leah spoke up quickly. “I shall be with you!” and she glared at Mr Goldfine.
He tried to protest, but was too weary. Sonia retired, as did Leah, and rose at about eight the next morning. She washed, dressed in a demure summer gown of pale green muslin, donned her cloak after eating, and was ready to depart.
At about ten o’clock she arrived at the house of Jacob, and was greeted with such relief by her cousin that she thought surely Beryl must be ill.
But no, Beryl was sitting up in the drawing room. At her side was a basket in which lay the baby, cooing and kicking up his heels. Her cloak was taken, she was greeted, then allowed to bend over the basket and admire the son and heir.
“What a lovely boy, what a darling!” she exclaimed, and no praise was too extravagant for the proud parents. They agreed to it all. She sat down to talk, still wondering.
Beryl was not well, for she did lean back much, and seemed much fatigued. Jacob was always putting cushions at her back, or bringing a hot drink, or enquiring anxiously if she should not lie down.
“No, no, I am quite well, quite well, Jacob,” she said finally, but then burst into tears.
Sonia and Jacob both tried to calm her, but finally her abigail took her off to bed.
“What is it, Jacob?” Sonia asked anxiously.
Her handsome cousin, pulling at his beard, shrugged and said, “She is disappointed, yet relieved, and she is fond of you. Come, we must be off, our appointment is at twelve.”
Puzzled all the more by his cryptic words, Sonia and Leah went with him in his carriage. They were driven down one street and up another, until the carriage came to a halt at a modest yet handsome house.
Jacob got down, and helped Sonia from the coach. He would have left Leah, but the woman got down firmly and went with them. He said, mildly but firmly, “You will not be allowed to hear the conversation, Mrs Stein.”
She frowned. “And why not?” she demanded. Jacob gave a sigh, and led them to the door. The door was opened before he could knock, and a butler showed them in.
Mrs Leah Stein was put in another room to wait, to her great disgust. Jacob and Sonia were shown to a drawing room, where a heavy-featured stout man rose to greet them. Nathan Rothschild!
Sonia caught her breath. He greeted them, bowed them to chairs, and pulled at his sagging lower lip thoughtfully.
“She knows nothing of the matter?” he asked Jacob. Jacob shook his handsome dark head. “Good, good.” His accent was very thick at times. When he lapsed into German, Sonia felt relieved, for it was much better than his English.
“Lady Fairley,” said Mr Rothschild. “I have told you a little, in confidence, about our procedure for getting the soldiers’ pay to Viscount Wellington in the Peninsula.” He shot her a sharp look. She nodded, feeling rather numb.
He seemed to muse a moment, then continued.
“Sometimes our couriers are stopped. We have had to change couriers frequently of late. Now I have another plan, and I was going to use our friend and your cousin, Jacob, and his good wife. However, Mrs Goldfine is quite ill, her child’s birth left her exhausted. The trip can be difficult and tiring. I have decided it would be cruel to expect her to go. She says she could go, and she was much distressed when I told her I would ask you to go in her place. She thought it was too much to ask of you.”
His words explained much. Sonia bent her head, and by an effort of will kept her fingers still in her lap. “How — would we go, sir?” she asked.
“By coach to an obscure port. Then across the Channel on a ship of mine. By another coach — you will be met. Then, you and Jacob are on your own. You shall be a Frenchwoman — for you speak the language like a native — you are a widow. Your husband died recently. You are taking his ashes home to your former domain in the south of France. You will travel by day, wearing black cloak and black bonnet. Jacob will be your brother, patiently caring for you.”
Sonia was so shocked she could scarcely speak. Jacob spoke up keenly.
“And the gold, Mr Rothschild? Or do we take bank notes on this trip?” Jacob enquired.
“Both,” said the financier. “Gold will be in the floorboards of your coach. It will be transported in the ship. The man who meets you will assist you in storing it safely under the floor of the coach. I have obtained many notes in Spanish, Maltese, and other currencies, also, for they are lighter in weight. The sum will do much towards meeting the debts of the military in Lisbon. The soldiers will not fight without their pay, and in truth they are sometimes in pitiable condition.” His voice softened from its brusque tone. “Officers are forced to sell some of their cloaks, even, to buy their food. Their men are worse off.”
“When — do we go?” asked Sonia faintly.
“I will send you word. You will remain at your townhouse tonight and tomorrow. What did you tell your husband?” he shot at her suddenly.
“That — that Uncle Meyer and Beryl were ill. Also that I must see my merchants from the Orient.”
“Good. Good. From here, proceed to my warehouses. There you will meet two of your merchants — who are also selling me some gold they have collected. Jacob will go with you. Talk with them, purchase what fabrics you wish. Jacob will bring the gold to my counting house.”
He proceeded to tell them more of his plans: whom they would meet, how they would travel by day in France, by night in Spain, what couriers they might encounter, the passwords.
Then he turned to Sonia. “You have been quiet, Lady Fairley. I have not your promise as yet that you will go on this very difficult and hazardous journey.”
She did not hesitate. She knew the importance of the journey. It was crucial to Wellington, to the armies, to England, her beloved adopted country. Her own safety was of little importance — the gold and specie must go through. Mr Rothschild thought she could do the job. She must try.
“I will go, sir, and I am grateful for your trust in me.”
He smiled, his rare gentle smile. “You are a lady of courage and intelligence,” he said. “May the Lord be with you, support you — and see you safely after this mission back home again.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He spoke a little longer with them, then they were on their way. Leah was silent, fuming and indignant that she did not know what was going on, and very suspicious of what was happening to her charge.
At the warehouses, Sonia spoke with her merchants, bought some fine fab
rics and ordered them delivered to her townhouse. Two lengths pleased her especially — a lilac one for Henrietta, a silvery pink for Edwina. Jacob counted the gold the men had brought, gave them Mr Rothschild’s receipt. The cousins returned to Sonia’s townhouse.
At the last moment in the carriage, Jacob said, “Sonia, you will pack one small trunk and a valise. Be ready to depart at any moment. When I come, we must leave at once, day or night. You understand?”
“No, I do not!” cried Leah indignantly.
Sonia hushed her gently. “Yes, I shall be ready, Jacob. Pray, give Beryl my kindest regards, and kiss your son for me.”
He pressed her hand and got out of the carriage. He helped her out, then Leah, and waited until they had entered the house before going on his way.
At the door, behind the butler, Alastair appeared! His face was flushed, his eyes blazing.
He had seen her from the windows of the drawing room as he waited impatiently for her. He was tired — he had travelled by horseback, with only a change of clothing in his saddlebags. He had arrived at his townhouse to find the housekeeper knew nothing of Sonia’s arrival. Now at her own home, he found her dallying at the door with her handsome dark cousin!
“Sonia, what the devil is going on!” he demanded, as she entered the house.
She stopped, shocked and amazed. “Alastair!” she gasped. “What — are you — doing in London?”
“Following you!” he snapped. He pulled her into the drawing room, and shut the door in Leah’s face. “Now! Tell me what you are doing, why you were not at home with your ‘sick’ uncle, who has gone off to his counting house? And where have you been all this morning?”
“Alastair — good heavens — how can I answer all your questions at once?” Frantically she tried to think. She had not dreamed he would follow her to London, and so quickly! She must be getting ready to go on her dangerous adventure. And had he come after her — or was some other business drawing him here — such as a longing for Mrs Daphne Porter?
She took off her bonnet, shook back her hair. She was too weary and excited to think straight. Alastair folded his arms, looking like a judge with a wilting victim before him.
“And why did you not go to our home, instead of here?” he added harshly. “Don’t you consider my house yours?” He flung his hand about to indicate the room, smaller than his, though as richly furnished. “Well? Answer me!”
CHAPTER 13
Alastair would not be fobbed off with foolish stories. Sonia sat down in her cloak and bonnet, surveying him anxiously. She ought to be planning her journey, arranging to purchase or rent mourning garments, and so on. But first he must be appeased or sent back to Fairley.
How ever could she do this?
“Alastair,” she finally began. “I must — must go off by myself for a time. I wish — a holiday. I have much to think about. I beg you to trust me for a time —”
“Trust you for a time — while you go off on a holiday!” His face was flushed, his tone rose. He ran his hands through his unruly blond hair and began to pace the small room so that it seemed even smaller. “Sonia, you are mad! Tell me the truth! Why did you come to London?”
She closed her eyes. “My uncle was ill. He is better. Beryl is still ill — after having had her baby last month.”
“The truth!” he demanded scornfully. “What does all that have to do with your going on a holiday — alone?”
“I must get away. I am weary.”
“Alone?!” he repeated. “If you are weary, I shall go on holiday with you. You know that no respectable woman goes away alone. What has possessed you? Tell me what is wrong… why are you weary? I know you were weary when we left London, for you were white and drawn,” and his voice became unbearably gentle. He flung himself down on the settee beside her and took her hands strongly in his. “Tell me, Sonia.”
“I — I have much to think about,” she said weakly. Oh, it was so lovely to feel his concern! But she must not think about that, she must fix her mind on going on this mission. It was so important — to England, to her countrymen, to Alastair himself. How would he feel if his comrades died in battle against the French, when she might have been able to prevent such a catastrophe by taking money to them?
He would never know about it, but she would know.
“We can go off to some seaside resort,” he said eagerly, his fingers pressing hers. “We could be alone — is that what you wish? Have I piled too many duties on to you, Sonia? You are weary of the continuing presence of my brother and sisters? I know they confide in you and they must be worrisome to you.”
“No, no, it is not true, that is not a burden but a joy,” she said hurriedly. “I enjoy — their confidence, their trust. No, that is not it —”
“What then? Is it me?” he asked, more sternly, gazing down keenly into her face. “Do I come to you too often, have I been brutal to you?”
Warmth came up into her face, and she turned from him shyly. “No, Alastair, that is not it. I have come — to enjoy — I mean — I wish to do my duty. And you are not — too — I mean — I like it when you come to my bed!” she finished desperately, flushing wildly.
“Well, then,” and his voice went down coaxingly. “Why not let me take you on a holiday? We could go away for a week, a month. I will send word to Maurice to manage matters for us. Come, Sonia, do let us go away together —”
It was so tempting. She closed her eyes against the pleasure she felt. She must not listen, she must resist. But the picture of them together, in some quiet cottage on a seashore, alone together, with just the two of them — wandering the beach, clasping hands, his concern over her…
“I cannot,” she whispered. “I must go away — alone.”
He flung her hands from him in temper, rising and pacing the room again. “I fail to understand you!” he cried, his blue eyes flashing with rage and pain. “Why must you be alone? Where are you going? I saw you with your handsome cousin — yes, he is the only one besides your uncle who attended your wedding! He sat alone, and I thought he wept! Did he regret your wedding so much? Had he longed to marry you himself? Did family keep you apart, forbidding the marriage of first cousins? Have you loved him long?”
She sat, silent and amazed, before his attack. It was so unexpected and alarming.
He flung round on her. “You do not answer! Have I hit on the truth? He married another because he could not marry his first cousin! Is that the answer?”
She shook her head. He paid no attention, off on this tack.
“That must be it, he is devoted to you. My God, do you think to go off with him? This Jacob Goldfine, one of your own faith and beliefs, a dear cousin, a man with whom you grew up —”
“I beg you, Alastair, say no more!”
“I have hit on it, I am convinced!” he raged. “Well, I forbid you to go off with him! He shall be nothing to you! You shall go home to Fairley with me and stay there. I was a fool not to see this before.”
“It is not true,” she managed to say in a gasp.
He frowned down at her, imperiously. “Well, that is over. You must forget him! Sonia, think of your future, think of our future together! No good can come of mourning the past! Forget him! We will go off together, and become closer —”
She put her hand to her head. “I must go — and lie down,” she said faintly. This was all such a new attack, she could not fend it off. She must have time to think.
He saw she felt ill and bewildered, and let her go. She went to her room, and Leah helped her remove her shoes and lie down. She lay for a time in the darkness. But her brain was thinking, thinking.
There must be a way out. Alastair seemed to show such true feeling for her. Surely he must be coming to love her. Life, which had seemed so bleak, was turning rosy and beautiful. She had promised to go on this mission — but what if she could find someone to take her place?
She did not want to jeopardize Alastair’s feelings for her. What if there was promise for the future? He
did seem anxious and upset over her. It was not just her reputation he thought about. He seemed truly concerned about her, about their lives together. Was he coming to love her? Could it be true?
Yet — yet she must be planning to leave. There were the black mourning clothes — bonnets — packing — some gold of her own — and being ready to meet Jacob — there was no one else to go — Beryl could not go. She might go if Sonia did not, and she might die — gentle Beryl, with her new splendid little son…
What if Jacob and Beryl were caught, imprisoned, even killed? Their baby son an orphan even before he had scarcely opened his beautiful dark eyes?
No, no, she could not do that to them…
The house seemed quiet. Leah stole into her room.
“Where is — Alastair?” she asked faintly of the abigail.
“He is gone off to his townhouse. There were letters to open, he said, my lady,” said Leah coldly, clearly disapproving of all these events of which she was being kept ignorant.
“Ask for my carriage to be brought around,” said Sonia, and got up. She put on her shoes, her bonnet and cloak. She said firmly to Leah, “No, you may not come with me. I shall return shortly.”
“My lady, I don’t like all these comings and goings!” cried Leah.
Sonia did not either, but it had to be done. Deaf to Leah’s warnings and pleadings, she went off alone in the carriage, directing her coachman to a shop where she knew she might rent widow’s weeds.
She found what she wanted, and took three dresses, a large black bonnet with black ribbons, a black veil to cover her face, and black gloves. She had black boots and slippers already.
Wearily she climbed back into the carriage, putting the packages at her feet. She directed the man to drive her back to the Fairley townhouse. Perhaps Alastair would be home. If so, she would have the packages carried in by the back entrance, and so up to her room.
Star Sapphire: Love and wild adventure in Regency England Page 16
