Letters in the Grove

by Felicia Rogers

  Letters in the Grove

  by Felicia Rogers

  Published by Clean Reads

  www.cleanreads.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  LETTERS IN THE GROVE

  Copyright © 2015 FELICIA ROGERS

  ISBN 978-1-62135-404-8

  Cover Art Designed by CORA DESIGNS

  I dedicate this story to Yolanda Gamble, a reader, who encouraged me to continue the Renaissance series.

  Chapter One

  Europe 1558

  Demoted and ashamed, Gustav Braun had left France and returned to England. His reputation as a spy for the French Protestant movement had diminished with the assassination attempt of Admiral Gaspard de Coligny. In fact, Gustav's friend, Jean Broussard, had used private channels just to keep him with any kind of position at all.

  Rejection was an unusual feeling. Throughout the years, Gustav had easily achieved his every goal. Whether it was wooing a beautiful woman or gathering intelligence, most things fell readily into his lap.

  Thinking about beautiful women brought visions of his loving wife. Teresa. Dark blond-haired and blue-eyed, she had been no more than eighteen when they married. For the first three years of their marriage he had been a well-known tailor in Germany, which had kept him busy but at home. The last two years Teresa had been a pure angel, putting up with his shifting temperament and allowing him to follow his goals of being an investigator for the Protestant movement without complaint. Due to his employment, they had been separated and only communicated through letters. During his time in France and England she had remained in Germany.

  Perhaps it was time to return to his homeland. His sister, Olga, and her husband, Max Schmidt, had also been part of the movement to secure a homeland for Protestants. Now they planned to take their herd of children and return to Germany. Traveling with family would provide a way for him to return to his wife and discount suspicion.

  Sitting at the writing desk in Max’s solar, Gustav opened a drawer. Parchment crinkled as he unfurled it. Odd symbols glared at him. He grabbed the code key. The light from the candles flickered along the wall as he translated Teresa's latest missive. He leaned in his chair and crossed his feet at the ankles.

  My Dearest Husband,

  I thank God every day that you took time to teach me the particulars of writing. Without this way to release my feelings, I might perish in the depths of despair.

  It has been many weeks since I’ve heard from you. I travel to our special place every day, hopeful that you have not forgotten me.

  As I write this letter the sun is setting over Augsburg. I’m propped upright in our bed and covered to my armpits. The bed is cold and empty beside me. I close my eyes and dream you are there. I can almost see the twinkle in your eyes as you lean over and tug a strand of my hair.

  Winter has left us and the warm days of spring are beginning. I hear birds chirping outside the window as they make their nests. Goldcrests sing me to sleep. I long for the day when you will share these delights with me.

  Your loving wife, Teresa

  Gustav lowered the decoded letter and picked up the original. Tearstains dotted the thick parchment. His fingers glided over the note. Coded, the missive was only readable to him. It was the only way they could safely communicate.

  What if he did return to Germany with his sister? What would his wife say if he showed up unannounced? Would she be thrilled or upset? If the latter he couldn’t blame her. He’d been gone a long time without a clear plan for if and when he would return.

  “Dear brother, what are you fretting about now?” Olga flitted into the room and parted the thick drapes. “We must add some light in here.”

  Skirts twirled around her frame as she worked. Brisk in her movements, she stopped in front of him and bent forward to stare at his face. “Gustav, this is not the end of the world. You're still employed by Jean.”

  Dropping the letter on the desk, he studied his sister, happy for the change in subject. “Aye, but at a lower capacity. They fear they can no longer trust my work.”

  “Then they are fools.”

  “Thank you, Olga.” Gustav gave her a genuine smile.

  “You are welcome. But, I will not permit you to hide in my home and sulk. Stand please.”

  He did her bidding. While he stood in the middle of the room she ran her hands through his hair then straightened his tunic. “We must find you a new lease on life.”

  “I was just thinking about that.”

  “Oh, really? Do tell.”

  “I think I should return to Germany. Teresa must miss me terribly. I would like to go with you and Maximilian, if you don’t mind.”

  Olga tapped her finger to her forehead. “I do not know. You see, we will be under heavy suspicion. We have not gone home in some time, and our activities in England and France have not exactly been in secret.”

  “Aye, you may be right, but this is something I must do. I want to retrieve Teresa. It is time to settle down and live like a normal man.”

  “I could not agree more. Let me discuss your request with Max. And of course, you must receive permission from Monsieur Broussard.”

  Gustav waved away her words. “Jean will not mind. He will be glad for me to leave. My absence from the country can only bring him a certain amount of peace after what happened.”

  “You should not beat yourself up. Lucille Lombard was able to thwart Dubois' plan and the admiral lives. That is all that matters.”

  “Is it? Is that truly all that matters? I allowed Charles Dubois to dupe me. I let two relatively unknowns carry out my job. No, I do not think that is all that matters.”

  “I am sorry you feel this way.” Olga was silent for a moment. She left him standing in the middle of the room as she walked toward the fireplace. Staring at the flames, she said, “You must not blame yourself entirely. Many things happened to ruin our plans. We must, however, be happy the admiral lives and the colony in Brazil is underway. This means once you retrieve Teresa, we will have a place to go.”

  “And once you retrieve Hans?”

  Olga’s shoulders slumped and she nodded. Gustav should have kept his mouth shut. Hans was Olga and Max’s eldest son. When they left for Europe the boy had refused to leave with them. An elderly gentleman and a friend of the family offered the boy shelter, and Hans had jumped at the chance to stay in his native homeland.

  No way would Olga leave the continent without him. Arguments between her and Max had filled the house for weeks over the subject.

  “Yes. Once I retrieve Hans then we will all be free to leave and start a new life. A life where we can worship without fear of recourse.”

  Gustav nodded and fell into a high-backed cushioned seat. Flames licked at the wood and heat filled the tiny room. The last vestiges of strength left him. Closing his eyes, he drifted into a peaceful sleep.

  ****

  Teresa Braun plucked herself from bed and stretched. Cold permeated every space. After stoking the dying embers, she drew on a heavy cloak. The soft material fell to her ankles and swished against her exposed legs as she made her way to the living area.

  Habits are hard to break, and even with the chill in the air she started her day the same way — by sitting at the writing desk and retrieving Gustav’s mo
st recent letter. They were much less frequent of late, and without the funds she’d grown accustomed to, yet his written words still caused her heart to soar. Code in hand, she translated the symbols. Tears beaded in her eyes as the words became clear.

  Mein Engel,

  I hope you fare well. The news of continued peace in Augsburg is music to my soul. As long as you are safe I can continue to work toward our future.

  It saddens me that the French government is staunchly against Protestant freedom. The admiral and his friends work tirelessly to rectify this situation. Brazil is ready for its first inhabitants. I hope one day we will be able to travel there together and make a new life.

  As my quill flows over this paper, I think of you. The air is rife with the aroma of roses. It reminds me of holding you in my arms and smelling your sweet scent. I can picture you, your hair lying around your face, a smile of contentment tugging at the corner of your lips. I wish I was there now holding you. One day, these dreams will become a reality.

  Remember to always code your messages. Pressures on our movement have caused people to do desperate things. And as always, I love you.

  Your husband, Gustav

  Teresa ran her fingers lovingly over the original letter. If she closed her eyes she could almost see Gustav penning the missive. He would lean over the parchment with his brow furrowed in concentration, his soft brown hair would fall forward over his forehead, and he would push it back without much success.

  She held the letter to her heart and allowed tears of happiness to flow. The rumors of Gustav’s indiscretions must have been heavily exaggerated. Pulling out a piece of parchment, she wrote a reply. The cost of paper could have fed her for a day, but writing Gustav was worth the sacrifice.

  Finished with the note, Teresa returned to her room and dressed. She glanced at the height of the sun in the sky. She must hurry about her business. She folded Gustav’s note and shoved it in her reticule. Next she shuffled through her desk and drew out another note, this one more sinister in nature than the one from her lover.

  Morning was the opportune time to deposit both articles. One expressed her feelings for her husband, the other kept her and her friends alive another day. Outside she tilted her head and sucked in a deep breath. If she imagined hard enough she could almost smell the roses that Gustav spoke of. Starting along the path to her destination, she kept a sharp eye.

  Employment as a courier provided the needed funds to feed her. Yet, as she approached the hidden grove, tiny prickles of worry nagged at her mind. The grove was a place that lovers and those missing loved ones stowed letters. Some said fairies swooped down and carted the letters to the receiver. Others believed that the grove swallowed up the letters and transferred the meanings into the heart of the recipient. But Teresa knew of the network of people who delivered the missives to those hidden in secret places, those working inside and outside Germany for secretive purposes.

  Today, as with most days, she planned to drop two notes, one in her secret hole for Gustav and another for her employer. She worked for the religious underground in Augsburg. Recently, they had asked more of her than just delivering letters.

  Sweat beaded her brow as she deposited Gustav’s letter and shot a glance over her shoulder. Others stood beside the hedge placing letters. She had one more to deliver. Lifting her skirts, she made her way to the opposite side of the hedge. Fog descended and bathed the ground until she couldn’t see her feet. Her heart raced and she wished for the weapon stowed in her desk drawer. Heavy footfalls beat the ground behind her. Her heart raced and she picked up her pace. The goal was to look as if she was casually strolling through the park without a care in the world, but lifting her skirts and trotting through the grass surely ruined such an illusion.

  Teresa panted. The dense grove rested on the outskirts of the park. It was surrounded by a decorative hedge on three sides. Nature and man had designed this spot and the advantages were enormous.

  Glancing over her shoulder, Teresa saw the pursuers still on her tail. Weaving along dirt paths and through pedestrians had done nothing but make her more tired. Few options were left to her. Time was of the essence. She needed to throw her pursuers off her trail. She sat on a bench and pulled yarn from her reticule. She hummed as if she planned to stay for a while and enjoy the outdoors.

  The needles clacked in her hands. For some time now she’d thought she was being followed. Whether it was to discover Gustav’s location or the secret messages she deposited for coin, she didn’t know; neither did it matter. Both were secrets and needed to remain so. The men approached and her heart hammered in her chest.

  The followers stopped and shuffled their feet, studying frolicking children with arched brows. Time passed and eventually they took a seat against a tree trunk and closed their eyes. Their complacency played to her advantage, but she didn’t move right away.

  When she thought she was safe, she rose and tiptoed from the bench. Making her way to the backside of the hedge without being seen caused her to feel shaky and weak. Her heart pumped loudly between her ears as she spotted the entrance to the backside of the grove. A white gate creaked open with the slightest of pressure. Encased within the protective hedges, Teresa searched for the hiding spot. Tiny holes appeared everywhere. However, at this moment there was only one spot that was of any importance. Hard to see, the hole would hide the message until discovered by the appropriate people.

  Reticule gathered to her bosom, Teresa rifled through the contents until she found the slip of paper and pulled it free. She slipped the paper into the secret space, straightened, and smoothed her gown. Satisfied, she smiled. Accomplishing a private mission always made her happy.

  Sauntering from the grove, she eyed the fruit hanging from nearby trees. Large, luscious red apples sagged from the branches. Gently stroking the smooth glossy skin of the fruit, Teresa noticed a shadow. She stifled a gasp.

  “We meet again.”

  Victor Wulf, notorious for his love of fast horses and buxom women, lounged nearby. Tall and lanky with a chiseled chin, distinguished cheekbones and a thin mustache, most women in court found him a fascinating and attractive companion.

  Teresa bowed, making sure to keep a watchful eye on Victor.

  “What are you doing here, Frau Braun?”

  Teresa shrugged and held her tongue. The less she said the better. Victor prided himself on spinning every conversation to his advantage.

  Victor paced, tapping a wayward finger to his chin. “You see, you being here is a very upsetting situation.”

  Her palms sweated and her heart raced, but the only emotion she expressed was the cocking of her brow.

  “Oh, you do not understand, do you? Well let me inform you of the situation. Secret information has been stolen. We believe this information is being passed from one individual to the next until it reaches its destination, through this very grove.”

  “Oh, really?” said Teresa fighting to control her quivering voice.

  “Yes, we do. And do you know what else we know?” His grin broadened and he crossed his arms over his chest.

  She lifted her chin with false confidence. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

  “We know that a young woman will be delivering this information. Today. So you see why your presence brings me sadness.”

  “Nay, I do not.” Her heartbeat roared between her ears.

  “You should not count on Gustav to save you.”

  She narrowed her eyes.

  “You haven’t heard? He is leaving England and is said to be headed for parts unknown with a secret lover.” She was stunned. Victor sighed and shook his head. “Men, please take Frau Braun into custody.”

  Teresa didn’t fight as she was grasped roughly from behind and pushed out toward the street. It took all her strength to keep from sobbing from her broken heart.

  Chapter Two

  “Do we really need all this?” Gustav frowned at the growing pile of baggage. Was his sister packing for a family or an army
? How could they possibly sneak into Germany with all these things?

  “Of course. When you travel with children, you must prepare for every eventuality. Besides, I’ve been saving some of these items for years just to take to Hans. Do you want to see?”

  Gustav shook his head and helped hoist the next trunk onto the carriage. Each one weighed more than the last and it took him and Max both to move the massive objects.

  Sweat beaded along his brother-in-law’s upper lip. An expression of apology rested on his face. “I am sorry. I should have warned you. Your sister never does anything by half measures.”

  Gustav grunted and lifted his end. One entire carriage was filled with their baggage, which he would drive. Max would drive the other carriage holding his wife and children. He was doomed to a lonely trip.

  Late afternoon the wheels of the carriages rolled into motion. Hugs and kisses and saying good-bye to the staff had lasted longer than it should have and Max had had to push Olga out the door after a dozen rounds.

  Watching the wheels of the carriage in front of him, Gustav prayed for good weather. They needed to reach the English coastline and sail to the mainland. Once they reached the port closest to Caen, France, they would take a ferry to the city, find new transport, replenish their supplies, and finish their journey. His sister had argued that Caen was the long way around, but he had insisted. Friends there needed to know of his intentions, and what better way than to see them in person?

  No sooner had they begun their journey than a storm unleashed massive amounts of rain. They sought shelter in a rundown tavern. Max, Olga, and the children stayed in one of the cluttered upstairs rooms while Gustav rested in the barn with the horses and their gear. The shiftiness of the stable hands had made his choice easy.

  “Where are ye headed?” asked a young boy, as he stroked the long mane of Gustav’s lead horse.