Not Forgotten

by Elizabeth Johns

  “Where would you care to stop? I should like to ride on a bit and scout the area.”

  The Duchess was looking rather green, and suddenly he sympathized with Lady Amelia. The Duke reached up and tapped on the roof of the carriage and Philip was barely able to get out of the way before the Duchess exited the carriage to be sick.

  Waverley was hovering solicitously over his wife, and Philip felt very much the intruder. He stood back quietly and waited, turning his back so that the Duchess could have privacy.

  When she was cleaned up, the Duke spoke. “We will stop for the night at Aubergenville. Go on ahead and take Amelia with you.”

  Philip looked around, but Amelia was nowhere to be seen.

  “Heaven help me,” Philip muttered. “Are you certain you do not want us to stay?”

  “Please go on,” the Duchess insisted, dabbing her lips with a silk handkerchief.

  “Very well,” he agreed with more obvious relief that he should have. “Now, where is my charge?” he asked himself sarcastically as he mounted Scipio and began searching.

  “Did anyone see which way Lady Amelia went?” he asked the servants who were waiting.

  The coachman pointed on ahead and Philip tipped his hat. “I am going to kill her before the day is over,” he growled under his breath, turning his horse to follow her. Fortunately for his temper, he had only gone a few hundred feet when he saw her horse grazing at the side of the road. Amelia was emerging from the trees and smiled at him sweetly.

  He could not help but scowl at her. “What do you think you are doing?

  “A gentleman should never ask a lady that when she had need to use the necessary.”

  “We are no longer gentleman and lady. Do you realize what could have happened to you?”

  “It has only been a few minutes!” she protested.

  “We are on our own now, and you will not go off again without me. Do you understand? Or I will tie you up and take you back to the carriage.”

  “You would not dare!” She set her hands on her hips and glared at him with indignation and colour mounting her cheeks.

  “I most certainly would.” He jumped down from his horse and stood toe to toe with her, looking down into her mulish, beautiful face. She turned her back on him and crossed her arms.

  “Stop treating me like a child,” she snapped.

  That was a mistake.

  Reaching around her, he grabbed her hands and pulled them behind her back, dragging her against him.

  “This is not child’s play, Amelia. You will agree to follow my orders, or you go back now.”

  He thought she would refuse. It felt a full five minutes before she answered.

  “Very well,” she said in a begrudging tone.

  “Last night you promised to trust me.”

  “This is not about trust, it is about control.”

  “Safety,” Philip corrected. “It is about keeping us both safe.”

  “Will you let me go, now?”

  He released her and her scent of violets wafted through the air. She stormed over to her horse and untied it, trying to mount it herself, but she was petite and the horse was not. He stood back and watched with amusement.

  “Are you going to be a gentleman and help me, or not? Oh, my apologies. For a moment I forgot that we are no longer a lady and a gentleman.”

  He watched as she searched for something to use as a mounting block. Finally, she gave up. “Will you assist me, please?”

  “Manners at last. Certainly I will help, mademoiselle.”

  He boosted her into the saddle, then mounted his own horse.

  “Are you trying to make me hate you?” she asked.

  “Not at all. I am trying to let you comprehend that you cannot do this alone. We are partners, like it or not, and independence has no part in this relationship.”

  Just then, Philip heard something in the trees and his senses immediately went on high alert. He saw her open her mouth to argue further, but he hushed her with a look of warning which, thank God, she understood.

  “Start riding now,” he commanded quietly, grateful she had obeyed when it mattered.

  They rode fast, and pushed their cattle as hard as they dared. He had to give Lady Amelia credit for one thing, at least: she could ride. He had looked over his shoulder many times, but could not detect anyone following them.

  At length, he drew rein. “I think we have lost them.”

  “I should certainly think so,” she said with all of the hauteur of someone who had been raised in the saddle. “What gave you warning?”

  “A rustle in the trees.”

  “It was probably a deer,” she said dismissively.

  “It could have been someone following us or a highwayman…even if it was an animal, I would not want to defend myself against a wild boar.”

  “Shall we let the horses rest?” she asked as she dismounted and opened one of the saddle bags, pulling out a blanket.

  “An excellent notion. There looks to be some water over there.” They dismounted and walked on until they came to a stream. Philip led the horses down a shallow bank to drink.

  When he turned around Lady Amelia was setting up a blanket and opening a satchel with a canteen and food.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Resting?” she asked as though it were obvious.

  “We are not on a leisurely afternoon outing. We must take precautions, not merely indulge in a picnic out in the open as though in Richmond Park!”

  “We must eat, and we are not ‘out in the open’ as you put it. We are near a stream, surrounded by trees. Do you care for an apple?” She held up a bright pink piece of fruit, offering it to him with total innocence.

  “You will be the death of me,” he said. Accepting the fruit, he tore into it in frustration.

  She laughed and bit into her own piece. He had to admire her pluck, but why did he have to be the one responsible for her?

  This man was infuriating! The devilish side of Amelia was enjoying taunting him, but while she was afraid she may have pushed him too far, she could not seem to help herself.

  “I think you are overly skittish.”

  “I think you are overly naïve.”

  “The war is over and Napoleon is happily ruling Elba,” she argued.

  “You have no idea what you are talking about. Someone like Napoleon will never be content to be under guard, even if his captivity is a farce.”

  “Even so, why would we be a threat?”

  “Because there is unrest and the people are not loyal to King Louis. There are meetings happening in secret all over France, where the good citizens plot to overthrow him again. We can trust no one.”

  “I still do not see why two young lovers travelling to a country house party would cause any alarm,” she said. She delicately licked at some juice dripping from the corner of her mouth.

  “My dear Amelia,” he said in a different tone, moving closer. The change in his demeanour made her wary.

  “I hope this invitation is as innocent as you seem to believe, but I think your aunt is, at this moment, plotting his escape, and I intend to discover precisely how she plans to do it.”

  Amelia’s attention was piqued. “So that is what this is really about. It is much clearer to me now. Why did everyone not tell me from the start?”

  “Perhaps they assumed you would deduce as much.”

  “That was unkind,” she scolded as she threw her apple core at him, which he caught and tossed to one of the horses.

  “Do you think they will harm us to keep us from discovering their plan?”

  “Quite possibly.”

  “At least I am no longer searching for arbitrary information.”

  “I do not mean to say there could not be something else to discover.” He stood and brushed down his breeches then held out a hand to help her up. “Shall we continue? The Duke and Duchess will catch up to us if we stay any longer.”

  “I consider that highly unlikely. I thought
we would never reach Paris once we arrived in port,” she said, reaching down to gather the blanket and fold it. Philip went to fetch the horses from the bank where they were grazing.

  When he returned, he was creeping slowly, a look of alarm on his face as his hand went to his belt.

  “What...” she began to ask, just as a hand covered her screams.

  “Do not hurt the girl,” a second, authoritative voice commanded.

  Amelia stared in terror at Philip, who looked ready to strike if necessary.

  “May I help you?” he asked. “We are merely deux amants on our way to visit friends and family near Le Havre.”

  “I know who you are,” the man spat.

  “Then what do you want from us?”

  Amelia wished the one holding her would take his hand away from her face before she gagged from the smell of rotten onions pressing against her.

  “I want you to promise to leave France and cease your interest in Madame Lisette.”

  “Madame is my betrothed’s aunt. We are come on a family visit, nothing more.”

  Amelia tried to speak but the man’s callused palm muffled her words.

  “You are a British soldier, non?”

  “Not any longer, m’sieur. I am only a mister wooing my future bride.” Philip was creeping closer as he spoke.

  “Stay back or I hurt the lady.”

  “You would not wish to anger Madame. We are going to the fortress at her expressed invitation.”

  The man paused and looked to the second man, then with obvious reluctance released Amelia. “Very well, but we will be keeping a close eye on you.”

  As soon as she was free, Philip raised his fist and knocked the man out and released a knife into the second as he came forward to defend his partner. Philip was ready.

  “Quick, get the rope out of my bag,” he ordered.

  Amelia fetched him the rope, and while he worked, binding one man to a tree, the other began to stir and try to regain his feet.

  Amelia panicked, and reached for the small dagger within her bodice, thrusting it into him before he could advance any farther.

  The older man groaned and fell face forward to the ground.

  “I killed him!” The horses objected to her screeching and Scipio reared, bringing his forelegs down upon the man, making a horrific crushing sound.

  “If you did not, Scipio did.”

  Philip calmed the horses and commanded them to stand. “Hold them back,” he told Amelia as he checked the downed man for life.

  He looked concerned, since it was obvious the man was dead. He pulled her dagger from the body and wiped it clean before handing it back to her.

  She took it as though it contained the plague, and did not want it back. “What do we do with him?”

  “I think we had better make it appear the two of them had an altercation. Gather our things so we can leave as soon as I am ready.”

  Amelia felt sick. She had never harmed anything in her life and now she had killed a man! Captain Elliot untied the ropes with which he had just bound the first offender to the tree and placed him near the body of the attacker.

  “I hit him hard enough that he will wonder what happened when he wakes. Now, we must get as far away from here as we can. We will follow the river for a while so we are not seen anywhere near this place.”

  Amelia followed, not saying a word, and wondering how she would be able to live with herself after committing such a horrid act.

  “Do not be so hard on yourself,” Captain Elliot said gently. “The first time you see a man die…alters you.”

  Amelia let out the sob she was trying to hold back. “How do you live with yourself?”

  “You do not have a choice,” he answered, the infuriating man. “You were very brave and thought quickly when under attack.”

  “I would beg to differ. If I had not plunged a dagger into him, he would be alive!”

  “You poor girl. Your dagger did not kill him, the horse did.”

  Amelia burst into tears, then. “So my screeches were more effective than my weapon?”

  “The horse landed on his neck and broke it, although I am certain he would have bled to death from your stab wound if Scipio had not helped.”

  “This is ludicrous.”

  “The conversation is, but the threat is not. Hopefully, you will believe me now.”

  Amelia was tempted to thrust her dagger into him, but at least she had stopped crying.

  Chapter 9

  The rest of the journey was uneventful, thank goodness. They followed alongside the Duke and Duchess’ carriage for the remainder, which kept them safe from attacks and Philip free of the exchanges with Lady Amelia, which had become more intimate than Philip had intended. When on active service, it was best to keep relationships professional and at a distance. He had no idea how he was going to accomplish that when they had to pretend to be considering marriage.

  As they climbed the long, steep path up to the fortress, Philip saw the guards as they passed. They were supposed to be well hidden, but it was one of the things he had quickly discovered during his time reconnoitring the fortress. He knew the hours when the guards changed and he knew there were eight of them, spread from the bottom to the top. After the cavalcade passed through the gate, and the grooms came out to take the horses, Philip knew he had to be very careful not to portray any of Monsieur Lefebre’s particular characteristics. Superior British mannerisms were the order of the day, he reminded himself.

  “Bienvenue chez moi,” La Glacier said as she came out to greet them dressed in her usual white. Today it was a simple muslin day dress and it made her look more youthful and vulnerable, Philip decided, as he considered her.

  “I hope you do not mind, this will only be a small family affair. I do not hold grand entertainment at this, my true home.”

  “No entertainment is necessary,” the Duchess reassured her. “A nice rest in these beautiful surroundings will be very welcome indeed.”

  Philip knew there were many, many people down beneath the house, in a vast network of prison cells and rooms, but he was not about to mention it. He had waited so long to have access to the castle interior and now his chance had arrived, he was itching to explore.

  La Glacier led them inside, and it was nothing like he had expected. Once they passed through the white marble entrance hall, the fortress felt very similar to the house he had grown up in. The little party walked past several rooms, the doors of which were closed, until La Glacier led them into a private saloon where there were comfortable, worn sofas and chairs, books strewn about for pleasure reading and a chessboard.

  The suspicious side of Philip wondered if it was all an act to defray their attention from her work for Napoleon, yet it did not feel false. Philip was frustrated. He did not want to think kindly of her, and he knew it would tug at Lady Amelia’s feelings. Feelings were dangerous when you were spying.

  He watched as their host showed her nieces the view over the cliffs to the ocean. There was a perfect seat with cushions where a person could get lost watching the waves, or even reading. One day, perhaps...

  “Please help yourself to any of the books you like. My servants await your pleasure.”

  “Merci, Tante,” Amelia was saying. Waverley was standing back, also observing. Philip wondered what his thoughts were on the situation. He knew there had to be places for eavesdropping, but were there any to be found in the private apartments?

  When there was a pause in the conversation between the ladies, Philip spoke up. “Is there any way down to the beach from here,” he asked, “for walking along the water?” He smiled at Amelia, hoping La Glacier might think his intentions were romantic.

  “But of course,” she answered. “I will show you the path when we pass through the courtyard.”

  Philip knew she suspected him, but precisely how much, he could not say.

  “Captain Elliot has resigned his commission, Tante,” Amelia said.

  “Has he, indeed?” The
woman cast him a sideways glance.

  “With the war now over, there is little for me to do here. In fact, I have some business opportunities awaiting me in England, and my estate needs to be overseen.”

  “I was unaware you had an estate. That is happy news.” She looked approvingly at Amelia. So far, she seemed to be genuine, and Philip wanted to learn more, but this was not the time.

  “I am certain you would like to rest from your long journey. I will have my housekeeper show you to your apartments. It may not be what you are used to, but hopefully you will be pleased.”

  “I am certain it will be lovely,” the Duchess said kindly. “The view reminds me of Hawthorne Abbey, although the water here is a brighter blue.”

  “I did not have the pleasure of visiting my sister there, but my mother told me of its beauty. Shall we meet back here for tea in two hours? I think my chef will not disappoint you.” They followed her into a hall where a white marble staircase led to the upper floors and statues filled every niche. This was more as Philip had expected—a sterile feeling and coldness. However, when they passed through to the private chambers, the furnishing felt warmer again. There were rich blue and red colours with lush carpeting, and the wood-panelled walls were lined with family paintings.

  A plump, motherly housekeeper joined them, and showed them to their suites of rooms.

  Waverley and Philip followed along behind, and an exchanged glance revealed they were both looking for any sort of clue or sign a rebel army existed below―which they knew it did.

  Waverley leaned closer and whispered, “She has to know we are looking.”