He ran his finger over the words she had written as if somehow that would reach her. There was a faint round spot below the last paragraph – was it a tear? He pressed his lips to the spot, that tiny bit of Elizabeth that was all he had left.
For all he knew, they might have hanged her today after Mme. Desmarais’s visit. Her body, the neck at an unnatural angle, might be piled on a heap of other executed traitors.
Think of me when you see bluebells.
The sharp pain in his chest would not relent. He bent forward, resting his hands on the windowsill, but it made no difference. Nothing could help this agony of loss. An empty future of darkness loomed before him. All those years of being alone but for Georgiana, a few months of glorious respite, and now it was back.
But he had to compose himself. Georgiana might walk in at any moment. He could do this; after all, he had managed to hide his feelings from the world for years. He had to do it.
Once more he pressed his lips to the letter and secreted it in the pocket nearest his heart.
His duty waited for him. It was all he had left.
Chapter 16
Three days later, the sound of knocking distracted Darcy’s attention from a steward’s report. He was only pretending to read it in the hope the words would somehow sink into his skull, even when he could not care enough to read a complete paragraph. Everything distracted him – the sound of a maid moving in the next room, the crackle of the fire, a fly buzzing at the window, and above all the omnipresent crippling ache of grief and guilt.
How could he think of crops and roof repair when he did not know if Elizabeth was alive or dead? It was an additional cruelty of the French to keep their proceedings secret. He might never know when the end had come.
His butler entered with a card on a silver tray.
“I am not at home,” Darcy said dully. “You know that.”
The butler cleared his throat. “General Desmarais is here to see you, sir.”
With an oath, Darcy pushed his chair back from his desk. It was not the butler’s fault; he could not refuse an order from Desmarais. “I will see him in the sitting room.” Did his presence mean the worst had happened, or was this another ill-fated attempt at remaining friends? He could not even look at the man without seeing in his mind’s eye the image of Elizabeth’s body dangling limply from a gibbet. The now-familiar nausea rose in his throat.
The sitting room was empty, of course, bereft of the presence of Elizabeth and his family. Darcy had not entered it since the day of the arrests. Now he stood stiffly in the middle of the echoing room.
Desmarais strolled in. “Thank you for seeing me, Darcy.”
As if he had a choice. “It is my pleasure. May I offer you a chair?”
“Thank you.” Desmarais chose Kit’s favorite chair and stretched out his legs. “I will not be staying long. I have just come from speaking with Lamarque about your sister. He has agreed to drop the charges against her rather than to set the dangerous precedent of finding a prisoner innocent.” His lip curled in distaste.
“Thank you. That is good news.” Now he braced himself for the bad news. The worst news.
Desmarais rubbed his hands together as if to clean them. “Lamarque agreed that Miss Gardiner will, of course, be found guilty and condemned to death, but her sentence will be postponed indefinitely.”
No. He would not allow himself to hope. It would only hurt more in the end. “What does that mean?”
“I could explain it in pretty words, but put simply, she will live as a hostage for your good behavior. We have several such hostages. As long as you continue to support our regime, she will remain safe. I told Lamarque the truth – that I feared her execution would drive you into the arms of the rebels. We cannot afford a Northern uprising at present. He agreed she might prove more useful among our other, ah, guests.”
He did not dare to believe it. “My cousin, Richard Fitzwilliam, was held as a hostage. He suffered greatly and nearly died from the experience.”
“That was in the early days of the invasion when each commander made his own rules. We are no longer so barbaric in our methods.”
“But she will remain in prison indefinitely.” Elizabeth might prefer to be hanged.
“No, no. Not free, but not imprisoned. We have better accommodations for our guests. She will be aboard the Neptune with several other ladies. They have several cabins to themselves and the freedom to walk on the deck. It is not luxurious, but neither is it uncomfortable.”
The Neptune, anchored in the middle of the Thames, was only accessible by boat. A natural prison for ladies, since they never learned to swim. “Will I be allowed to visit her?”
Desmarais hesitated. “Soon. After she has had a chance to settle in. You may write to her and send her books to pass the time. The other ladies net purses and paint watercolors, and one even has a small harp. No embroidery, I am afraid – the needles, you understand. She will be allowed some of her own clothing and toiletries. Everything will be searched before being given to her, including letters, I am sorry to say. It is not ideal, but better than losing her forever, I hope.”
“And what must I do in return?” His stomach clenched. What if the price were to betray Kit or Frederica?
“Nothing more than you have been doing all along. Cooperating with us and keeping the peace.” Desmarais looked at him expectantly.
“This is a permanent arrangement, with no hope of her release?”
Desmarais shrugged. “If England becomes more accepting of us, if Lamarque is recalled to France, if at some point your loyalty is considered proven or you render a great service to the Emperor – who is to say what might happen? There is always hope, my friend.”
It was so little to go on, but Elizabeth would be alive. He could see her from time to time. The lead weight that had been crushing his chest since her arrest eased just a little.
The general stood, straightening his dress sword. “And for the sake of God, Darcy, you must eat something. Otherwise Miss Gardiner will hardly recognize you when you visit her. You will be skin and bones if you do not eat.”
“I will eat. I promise you.” He would do it, too, no matter how it choked him. He owed Desmarais far more than that. Lamarque would not have agreed to give up one of his prisoners so easily; the general must have made concessions to him to obtain this bargain. He ought to find a little gratitude in his heart; very few friends would do as much for him, especially after he had spurned Desmarais’s efforts at maintaining their connection.
It was hard, but he would show his appreciation somehow. “Thank you.”
***
Darcy hurried downstairs to meet Georgiana and Lady Matlock on their homecoming from Carlton House. “Welcome home.” Darcy tried to sound cheerful and failed abysmally.
His aunt calmly kissed his cheek. Georgiana stood behind her, her posture rigid and her hands balled into fists.
“Georgiana, what is the matter?” he asked.
She attempted to respond, but her breaths were coming in such quick gasps she could not speak. Instead she buried her face in her hands.
Darcy put his arm around her shoulders and guided her into the sitting room. “What is this? There is nothing to fear now. You are safe. It is all over, and you are free.” It was even mostly true.
Lady Matlock said, “She is frantic about Elizabeth. The general never mentioned her to us, and we thought it unwise to ask. Has she been sentenced yet?” She left the second possibility unsaid.
“She is still alive. Although she was found guilty, they decided to keep her as a hostage instead of hanging her.”
Lady Matlock's eyebrows shot up. “Indeed? I had not realized your influence extended so far, but I am glad of it.”
Georgiana's shoulders were shaking now, but her breathing began to ease.
To give her time to recover, Darcy said, “I hope you were comfortable at Carlton House.”
“I was comfortable enough, but it was difficult for Georgiana,” said
Lady Matlock. “She had to play a role the entire time, and Carlton House itself brings up memories for her.”
Of course. Carlton House had been Prinny’s residence, so Georgiana had been born and reared there. “That must have been difficult. I am proud of you, my dear, for keeping your composure so well all these days.”
Lady Matlock said briskly, “I was not idle, either. I must speak to Frederica. I have a good deal of information she will find useful.”
He had been afraid of this. “That may not be possible. She and Kit have both gone into hiding, so you are on your own. Also, some of what you learned is likely to be false. Desmarais tests people that way.”
“He told me nothing. He knows my sympathies. These are things I overheard or that Mme. Desmarais let slip. For example, she said—”
“Stop!” Darcy commanded. “No more, I pray you.”
Georgiana froze in mid-sob.
Lady Matlock wore a well-bred look of faint surprise. “What is the matter?”
Darcy ignored her. “Georgiana, you have done nothing wrong. I was speaking to my aunt.”
“Oh.” The girl fished out a handkerchief and began to dab at her eyes, her shoulders hunched.
“But this is something I must tell both of you. I do not wish to know anything about the Loyalists, including what Frederica and Kit are doing, where they are doing it, or what you have discovered or done for them. I want to be left in complete ignorance of it. Elizabeth's life depends on my cooperation with the French. I need to be able to swear I know nothing about what any of you are doing.”
With a long, serious look, Lady Matlock said, “And what of Georgiana? Must that arrangement change?”
“Of course not. Georgiana is my sister, and I will do whatever is in my power to keep her safe. Any change in that would draw attention.” Seeing Georgiana's white face, he added, “Besides, I would miss her too much. It has been far too quiet here, and I am glad you are back.”
The girl made a weak attempt at a smile. “But Kit is gone?”
“I am afraid so.”
Her face crumpled. Darcy should have expected it. No sooner had she begun to rely on others than Kit and Elizabeth had vanished. This time he shared her feelings of loss.
***
“A bosun’s chair?” Elizabeth shaded her eyes to examine the warship looming over her. “How will a chair help me climb aboard?”
The sailor who had rowed her to the ship said, “It is not a real chair, Mademoiselle. Just a board tied with ropes like a swing. You sit on the board and the crew will hoist you up.”
She eyed the contraption dubiously. “Very well. I hope you will fish me out of the river if I fall in.”
“No one ever falls. Just hold onto the ropes on either side...” His voice trailed off as he looked down at her bound hands. “Never mind. It is very safe.”
Compared to dangling from a gallows, the bosun’s chair was no doubt extremely safe. And the ship was no higher than the trees she had climbed as a girl, though her hands had not been bound then. She would not give the French sailors the satisfaction of seeing her fear, so she perched herself in the center of the so-called chair. “Well?”
The board bounced against the side of the ship several times as she was hoisted up, then two French sailors assisted her over the rail. There were ropes everywhere, running from the ship to the masts, and cannons on runners. The deck shifted under her feet. Being aboard a warship was a new experience. Today had abounded in them.
There was a quick exchange of French between the sailors. Elizabeth caught General Desmarais’s name but little else. It had been a long day. A very, very long day. But she was alive, which was more than she had dreamed of, and out in the open air for the first time since her arrest.
She followed a young lieutenant along the deck to a hatchway. Four elegantly dressed ladies, each carrying a parasol, stood a short distance away, looking as out of place on the ship as tropical birds in a winter storm. One of them pointed to her bound hands and whispered to the others, who tittered.
Elizabeth supposed she must look a sight. Who could hope for more after a fortnight in gaol, wearing the same dress she had been arrested in and having nothing but her fingers to comb her hair? But she smiled cheekily at the ladies. She had nothing to be ashamed of.
Steep steps led down to another deck with a low ceiling. Several doors stood on each side of a narrow corridor. “Officer’s quarters, Mademoiselle. They have been made over for use by the ladies. Not what you are accustomed to, perhaps, but they are the best we have.” He opened a door small enough that he had to bend down to enter. “This will be your cabin.”
Elizabeth peered inside the tiny space. A pair of bunks lined one wall, with a small wardrobe and a washstand against the other.
“Your possessions have already been brought aboard. Hortense, who is the maid for all the ladies here, has unpacked them.” He gestured past the cabin. “Beyond this bulkhead is a stateroom for the ladies. Shall I send for Hortense to assist you?”
“Thank you, that would be lovely. Is it possible to have an ewer of water? Fresh water, that is.” Washing the prison grime from her hands and face would be an incredible luxury. “Oh, and if you please...” She held out her bound hands.
“Of course, Mademoiselle.” He produced a knife from his belt and sawed at the rope until it parted. Just like that, she was free. “I will fetch Hortense.”
Elizabeth rubbed her wrists where the ropes had chafed her skin. Slowly she turned in place, taking in her new surroundings with the low ceiling and curved walls. A month ago she would have found it confining. Now the simple pleasure of being able to walk from one room to another seemed the epitome of freedom.
A strikingly pretty young woman with red hair appeared through the door in the bulkhead. “Oh! You must be the new guest.” She made a face as she said the last word. “I am Mrs. Hayes. I am in the cabin next to yours.”
“I am glad to meet you. I hope you will tell me where to find everything and how things work here.”
“Of course! I will be happy to do so.” Her delight was obvious and infective. “What would you like to know first?”
“Could you show me where my clothes are? I cannot tell you how much I am longing for a clean dress. And a hairbrush – I have been dreaming of hairbrushes!” At the woman’s shocked look, Elizabeth said, “I am not always so odd, I assure you. But after a fortnight in gaol, things I once took for granted seem like a luxury.”
“In gaol?” Mrs. Hayes gasped. “Oh, no! How did you – but I suppose I should not ask. I can tell from your accent you are a lady, so I cannot imagine how you came to be in gaol.”
“It is not a secret. I was arrested for treason. This morning I was sentenced to be hanged by the neck until dead, then they told me I was coming here instead. I still cannot quite believe it.” Elizabeth ducked her head to enter the cabin.
“Treason? What did you do?”
“I was helping to prepare copies of The Loyalist for distribution.” Suddenly it seemed beyond ridiculous, and she began to laugh uncontrollably. Then, to her horror, her laughter turned into tears. She sank down on the bunk and covered her face with her hands.
“I am so sorry. I did not mean to upset you.” The other woman pressed a handkerchief against her hand. It was the cleanest cloth Elizabeth had touched in days.
Gulping back the tears, Elizabeth said, “It is just so strange. I have been guilty of things the French would consider terrible crimes, but they were going to hang me for folding newspapers!”
Mrs. Hayes gave a hesitant smile. “Strange indeed! But come, my dear, let us find you a clean dress to wear.” She squeezed past to open the small wardrobe. “Shall I help you out of your dress?”
“Thank you. The lieutenant said he would send a maid, but I cannot bear to wait.”
“You should not wait. Hortense is far more interested in flirting with the sailors than in us. You will be fortunate if she is here within the hour.”
“T
hen I am doubly grateful,” said Elizabeth ruefully. She turned her back to allow Mrs. Hayes to undo the buttons. “And I assure you I am not usually a watering pot.”
Her new friend smiled indulgently. “If a few tears are all that comes after a fortnight in gaol, I consider you very calm indeed!”
“You are very kind.” It was an enormous relief to be able to speak to a sympathetic woman her own age.
Hesitantly her new friend said, “But if I might give you some advice, I would not mention what you have just told me to the other ladies aboard the ship. They are very proper and are fond of their own importance, and it is not pleasant to meet with unkindness from those you must spend every day with.”
“I fear I may already have made a poor impression on them. They saw me with my hands bound as I came aboard. But if they think badly of me for opposing French rule, I have no desire for their good opinion.”
The other woman looked down at Elizabeth’s hands. “You poor dear! Once you are dressed, I have a special lotion that will help those wrists of yours. And I will be your friend in any case. The others do not approve of me. I was an actress, you see, before I was fortunate enough to catch the eye of my husband.”
“An actress! I hope you will tell me about it someday. I know it is a difficult life, but it must be exciting to become someone else when you step upon the stage.”
“It is like nothing else. But wait, I still do not know your name.”
“I am Miss Gardiner, but I pray you to call me Lizzy.” She was tired of responding to a name that was not her own.
“And I am Molly. I may not be very proper, but I am overjoyed to have a new friend. There, now you can step out of the dress. That shift must go, too.” She untied the stays and tugged the shift over Elizabeth’s head. “Here is a clean one for you. Which dress would you like? This blue one, perhaps?”
Conceit & Concealment: A Pride & Prejudice Variation Page 27
