Olga returned to find her husband sitting behind a wooden desk and staring out the window. Worry lines furrowed his brow.
Admiral Gaspard was a friend. They and the Admiral had spent time together in France.
Everyone who knew the Admiral discouraged any public announcement of the Huguenot colony. They felt the timing was wrong, but the Admiral disagreed. More and more people died because of their faith, and logic deemed they be moved to a safer, more acceptable location — hence the Admiral’s idea to colonize in Brazil.
Behind the scenes, friends worked to find solid proof the Admiral’s life was in immediate danger; with the finding, they hoped he would cancel his plans. Everyone knew a plot to eliminate the Admiral existed, but he wouldn’t accept the possibility. Olga understood her husband’s pain. So much death and no way to stop it.
“Max?”
“Ja?”
Olga stepped around the desk. She sat on his lap, resting her head on his shoulder. His lips grazed the top of her head.
“Olga, Gustav will be here in a few hours. We need to review what we’ve learned. We have to be missing something.”
She placed her hand behind his neck, drawing him closer. “What we need to do is rest.”
He removed her hand and then lifted her from his lap. A sigh left her lips as she took the available chair in the room.
Skirts settled, she spoke her honest opinion. “If we must review, then I believe it is the woman.”
“But why?”
Olga shrugged. “I think it would be obvious. The men are too old. They have wives and families. Besides, one of them sported a limp.”
“But Olga, the woman? She was young and had the huge burly man with her. Besides, I believe the woman is a collector. Did you study the house?”
“Of course I did. Remember, she invited me inside.” Had he already forgotten their conversation from a few hours past? Perhaps the man needed more rest than she’d thought.
“And what did you think? Was the man there on a personal visit?”
“Max, I don’t know. I already gave you my opinion. The woman was friendly but hid a little too much emotion when I spoke of someone following her. Besides, how much can one learn while accepting a drink?”
The next few hours they sat in silence. The quiet caused her eyelids to droop. Her body jerked at the pounding upon the outer door. Max jumped from his seat and raced to the front entrance before Olga rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
Gustav entered. Olga retrieved refreshments. When she returned, Gustav and Max huddled in deep discussion. Their voices silenced. The items on the tray rattled as she forcefully placed it on the table.
“Have you not explained my involvement, husband? Or are there new secrets you wish to keep from me?”
Gustav came forward and kissed her brow. “Dear sister, I’m sorry. I forget you two share everything.”
“We do. And what of Teresa? Does she know where you rest your head?”
“She does.” His smile of genuine affection melted her hardness.
“Good. I assume Max told you our findings?”
“He did.”
“Did he tell you about the people we met?” She gave him time to nod before continuing. “I believe it is the lady. It would be the perfect ruse. Who would suspect a lady of means to be passing on secret messages?”
“Perhaps.”
“Gustav, you know I’m right. Those two old men could never travel and retrieve the information—“
“We don’t know that. Lyle Lamar travels to Scotland to visit his daughter on a regular basis. While there, Lyle is known to frequent similar activities as those of Joshua. I dare say the man attends at least half of the places in question. We believe if we continue to follow the clues Joshua’s left behind, we will discover the contact eventually.”
Her husband frowned. “Dear brother, have you yet to hear?”
“Hear what?” asked Gustav.
Olga’s mouth formed an “o” of shock. Maximilian proceeded. “Gustav, Joshua is dead.”
Gustav searched their faces for any conflicting thoughts between them. “B-but this can’t be! He was in France last week! He assured Jean and I that he would acquire the message upon his next visit to London. What happened?”
As Olga listened to her husband relate the story of Joshua’s, or rather Reginald Spalding’s, demise, worries beset her. Gustav shouldn’t have been surprised by the spy’s death. After all, hadn’t he been the one to send the directive to search for L.L. amongst the patrons of the private art collection?
Olga chewed on her fingernails as she fretted. Something was amiss. If her brother didn’t know of Joshua’s death, then perhaps he hadn’t sent them the message to search for L.L. That could only mean someone else had. By following the orders, had they just revealed all their leads? And if so, who had they revealed them to?
Chapter Forty
The afternoon spent in the park was both wonderful and depressing. Wonderful in the sense that their relationship grew with each passing moment, depressing in the sense no one appeared who could perhaps be the new contact.
Although most of Lucy’s attention was focused on Bryce, she also managed to scan the grassy fields for passersby wearing familiar signs. For one in particular, that of the compass.
Each special member of their Huguenot movement received a small compass that they kept on their person as identification. Normally the item was worn, sometimes as a necklace or as cuff links. It was the only sign Lucy knew to look for.
As the afternoon waxed on and Bryce gathered their things back into the basket, an uneasy feeling descended. With a turn of her neck and a swoosh of her hair, Lucy caught a man paying them an undue amount of attention.
With a smile on her face, Lucy whispered to Bryce, “Don’t look now, but we have a watcher.”
“Is it yer contact?”
“I don’t believe so. Let’s pack our stuff and head for home, and see what happens.”
For the entire trip, Lucy squeezed Bryce’s arm. Even though this made Bryce aware of her turmoil, she knew there was little he could do. Covert glances revealed the stranger still followed. Behind a corner of a building, peeking out from a carriage, everywhere they tried to hide, the man could still be seen. At one point he seemed to leave them and head down an alley. Lucy released a pent-up breath yet the relief was short-lived, as the man once again appeared only a few steps behind them.
They reached the front steps of Lucy’s home but Bryce held back. “We did close the door, didn’t we?”
“Aye,” she whispered.
Bryce led the way inside, slowly pushing the already-ajar door further open. A rush of air escaped his throat. “Lucy, I’m sorry.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks. The house had been ransacked. Portraits had been split by knives, their gilded frames broken and splintered. Papers ripped from the desk drawers littered the floor. Clothing, which had once resided in the bedrooms, now lay scattered about the room.
Bryce placed his finger across his lips and pointed along the hallway. They heard footfalls. Stepping gingerly, they walked through the house and out the back door. The horses were in the stable, hay hanging from between their teeth as they chewed. Bryce saddled the horses, grabbed the lead ropes, and led the horses through a gate that connected with Winifred and Winnie’s yard.
They eased around the neighboring house. When they reached the street, Bryce studied the area. The man who had followed them from the park stood on the house’s landing with one foot inside the door.
“What do ye think they’re doing?” whispered Bryce.
“Who knows? Perhaps they suspect I’m who they are looking for. But my best guess is they are probably looking for the message,” said Lucy as she peeked over Bryce’s shoulder.
Bryce continued to lead them away at a slow pace. Out of sight, they slung their legs up and mounted. The animals clopped away in the afternoon light. Lucy looked over her shoulder one last time. Would she ever see her home a
gain?
****
Bryce led them away at a normal pace. Once away from Lucy’s street, Bryce found them a place to hide. He tied the horses and walked Lucy toward a huge home, which functioned as an inn for travelers. When they opened the door, a small man with a stooped back approached.
Mustering up his best English accent, Bryce spoke. “Room for Mr. and Mrs. Bard.”
“Do you have a note?”
Bryce blinked. What note?
With curiosity, he watched the elderly man walk to a nearby table. He opened a book and flipped through the pages, studying the written words intently. The elderly man’s neck moved and creaked as it lifted to look at them. “Sir, I do apologize, but I see no Bard listed. Here at the inn, if you are not in the book, then you must have a note.”
Spine erect and enacting a haughty tone, Bryce said, “Of course not. I’m here because I want a — a note.”
The man’s head twisted from side to side. “This is highly irregular. Highly irregular. This hotel has rules. And the rules require someone to vouch for you, but I must say you are in luck. There is one room available at the moment. I’ll have your bags taken to your room posthaste.”
The man spoke slowly and moved even slower. If they had to wait on him, they would never be out of danger. Before an attempt could be made to help, Bryce said, “No bags. We will just be staying overnight, if you please.”
He shook his head, then as if a light dawned, he said, “I get your meaning.”
Bryce watched Lucy’s face turn ten shades of red. The man waved them aside. “No need to worry; it is none of my business. We are very discreet here at the inn.”
The two of them followed the man to a large suite. A living area was attached to an open bedroom where a huge bed sat in the middle of the floor. It dominated the entire room. The man winked and left them alone.
“Imagine. What a filthy-minded old man.”
She unpinned her hair and it fell freely down her back. Bryce watched as Lucy plopped upon a cushioned chair. Everything within the room screamed of high class and wealth, neither of which he held. Lucy rested as if the place were a second home.
“Lucy, how will we pay for this?”
“What? I thought—“ The frown which settled on her face embarrassed him. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Father had an account here or something to that effect. The fact is, we have bigger problems. How are we going to go back home? For certain, someone will be watching to see if anyone returns. At least that’s what I would do.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. The woman from the carriage told ye we were being followed. Whoever it was followed us to the park, but at the same time someone was in yer house. So did they watch us to see when we would return home, or did they have other plans?”
Fear spread across her face. Bryce sat beside her. Picking up her hand and placing it within his, he studied her long, nimble fingers.
“I didn’t mean to worry ye, lass. But these are things we need to consider. They tell us what we should do.”
“Bryce, what are we going to do? I need to search the house again for the code or get my clothes or something. Everything I own, except this pouch on my arm, is still there.”
She pulled her hands free and buried her face inside them. Bryce scooted closer and ran his hand over her brown locks. “Do ye still have the itinerary?”
“Aye, I do.”
“What’s next on the list?”
She lifted the blue pouch and pulled a piece of paper free. They studied the scrawled words as Lucy voiced what she read. “Joshua was scheduled to be at a masquerade ball tomorrow night.”
“Then I guess we’re going to a party,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips.
Chapter Forty-One
The Lombard name could only get one so far. The room fee was covered for one night but nothing more. The couch was overly short and lumpy and Bryce’s legs fell over the side. Placing his arm under his head, he tried to get comfortable.
Morning came and his belly growled with hunger. Sunlight wafted through the thin curtains. He shifted and slung his arm over his eyes, blocking out the light.
The door to the next room was closed. Lucy rested in that room, the woman who filled his every waking thought and his nighttime ones as well.
Tonight they planned to attend a ball. With no money and no fancy clothing. Bryce struggled to figure out a way for them to blend in. They couldn’t go with what they wore on their backs. This situation was impossible.
Those thoughts only led to more questions. What kind of man was he? With all his needs currently provided to him by a woman, he questioned if he’d lost his Cameron pride.
It was Lucy. Around her he was a different person.
He sat up with his hands cupping his head. The night’s sleep had been fitful, full of tossing and turning, and bad dreams. He stared intently at the closed doors. As if by the power of his gaze, the large wooden panels opened.
Lucy twirled into the room dressed in yesterday’s clothing. She smiled and said, “What a glorious day.”
“It is?”
“Of course. The sun is shining and we have a roof over our heads. And I have a plan.”
Had he misheard her? “What?”
“Here’s what we do.”
Astonishment filled him at the thoroughness of her thoughts. She had every detail mapped out and listed. Had the lass rested at all?
“What do you think?” she asked.
“I think it sounds brilliant,” he replied, a tad off balance.
She clapped her hands, her face filled with delight. “Good. Now all we need do is enact it. It shouldn’t be overly difficult. We will be asking help of two great actresses.”
The morning hours passed slowly. Bryce reviewed the plan several times in his mind. While he rehashed her ideas, Lucy stood in front of a floor-to-ceiling looking glass. The size of the pane was something Bryce had never seen before. Why, a person could stand in front of it and see his entire self in one moment. It was simply amazing.
Lucy didn’t resemble herself at all, as she was covered in what appeared to be soiled linens, with grass, dirt, and small twigs sticking from her hair. Self-study completed, she turned to Bryce. “Now, let’s start on you.”
She covered him in a sheet and he watched as she ripped the seams of the clothes he’d worn the evening before. Large gaping holes covered the thick material. Hunching his shoulders, he cringed. Next came the dirt. No doubt the cleaning lady for the inn would wonder where the dirt from their potted plants had gone.
Once his clothes were prepared, Bryce dressed. Lucy clucked her tongue with approval. Bryce felt like he had worked all day on the farm, or perhaps ridden a horse over a dry, dusty road. Although the feeling was familiar, he still felt uncomfortable.
They were ready to put on their show, but still they needed to exit the inn without being seen. This proved to be a tad more difficult than anticipated. Every time they opened the door to sneak out a new person entered the hallway.
With an exasperated sigh, Lucy retreated into the room once again. “We are running out of time. We may have to walk out into the hallway and hope the inhabitants escort us to the street.”
“Leave this to me.”
With an awkward stagger, Bryce walked out the door. He hit the walls and thumped other doors. He shoved guests aside and offered a hiccupped apology.
Swear words and curses followed his progress. Bryce avoided cringing by strength of will. Lucy followed close behind, mimicking his every movement. Pride swelled in his breast at her acting skills.
When they pushed through the back door, Lucy burst into laughter. With her arm in his hand, Bryce pulled her away from the inn.
Holding her side, she said, “Where did you learn to do that?”
“Lots of people to watch. Come on, we need to get away from here.”
Lucy followed him willingly into the street. They avoided the horses for fear of being marked. As they walked, Bryce questioned the
plan. They did look ragged and unkempt, and on their way to the Tower for their behavior and the destruction of the inn’s room. His lips moved in a silent prayer. Without supernatural help this would never work.
****
Lucy’s feet ached before they reached their destination. Blisters formed underneath the thin soles of her footwear. Without their horses, the walk took longer than expected. When they reached the house, Lucy’s nerves bunched. Instead of thinking about what might happen, she reviewed what had already occurred.
Bryce was the perfect drunk. Never had she seen a drink touch his lips, and yet he appeared more soused than someone leaving a drinking establishment.
Focused on Bryce’s past behavior, she plunged ahead only to have Bryce pull her back.
“Stagger with me.” Leaning against one another, they staggered up the Townsend walkway. When they reached the door, Lucy stepped forward and prepared to knock. But there was no need.
“Winnie dear, we’ve got company.”
Winifred stepped back and allowed them to pass into the interior of their home. They prepared to explain their appearance when Winnie joined them.
“We wondered when you would come. Those workmen have been making some of the worst noise I’ve ever heard. Why, Winifred even went over and told them to be quiet, but they didn’t listen. I’ve never seen a ruder bunch of people.”
Lucy worked hard to control her shock. Winifred laid her hand upon Lucy’s arm and patted. “Dearest, I hate to tell you, but those carpenters you hired have destroyed your home. I wouldn’t pay them.”
“What?” asked Lucy.
“Now look, Winifred, you’ve worried the poor child. Besides, didn’t I tell you Lucy wouldn’t hire someone to come in and destroy her home? You didn’t, did you, dear?”
Lucy shook her head.
“See, there you go. Those people are in Miss Lucy’s house for nefarious purposes. We should have kicked them out.”
Beyond a Doubt Page 12
