Broken Legacy (Secret Lives Series)

by Colleen Connally

  Taking time only to grab her cloak, she raced to the window, opened it and crawled out. She didn’t have long. Scrambling against the side of the cottage, she hesitated at the edge. Thankful for the cover of the night and the rain, she stepped cautiously toward the woodpile. Easing down long enough to gather her composure, she leaned against the wood, listening to the riders.

  In the darkness, she couldn’t see the extent of the guards, but the National Guard they were. She heard muttering French imprecations and then she heard clearly orders screamed over the wind and rain. Blanche Rose. The knot in her stomach tightened. She had been betrayed!

  Her heart pounded rapidly, but anger rose within her. She would be damned if they caught her now. Pushing against the wood, she crouched down and raced toward the thick of the woods. She paused only long enough to turn to look to see whether anyone had followed. Through the haze of the rain, she saw nothing, but they would come, she had no doubt. She had to get away, as far away as possible. She turned back to run, but a hand grasped tightly on her arm.

  She gasped as another hand rapidly descended over her mouth. She felt herself being propelled upward on a horse. A man seated upon the horse pulled her up into his lap, strong hands that refused to release her. She squirmed wildly, fighting with every bit of strength she had.

  “For God’s sake, Eloise. It is me, Gerard.”

  She stopped. Her initial fear dissipated. She found herself in her husband’s arms. Glancing around, she saw Andre and Seamus sitting upon their own mounts. Andre motioned for the others to follow him. Her breathing eased as she laid her head against Lenister’s chest. She felt his arm tighten around her. Then she felt the horse began to trot, and then gallop. She hadn’t a clue what had happened, but she gave way to the feeling of safety in her husband’s arms.

  Chapter Seven

  The small group rode deep into the night until they came into Chatienge, a small village outside Amiens. Lenister rode passed the small common area and halted before a large house on the outskirts. The time was late, but lamps still shone within the home. Lenister motioned for Seamus to announce their arrival.

  Eloise stirred in his arms, leaning forward. She whispered, “Where are we?”

  “At an acquaintance of mine,” Lenister answered. “We will be safe for the night. Do not worry.”

  The rain had ceased but a chill remained. She would catch her death if he did not get her into some dry clothes and by a warm fire. She hadn’t stopped shivering for the last hour.

  Seamus reappeared upon the front steps and motioned for all to enter. Lenister lowered his wife to the ground and dismounted beside her. A couple of young lads emerged and took their mounts towards the stable. Without glancing back, he ushered Eloise up the steps and through the door.

  The house had once been owned by the magistrate of the town, but he had long since lost his head at the beginning of the Revolution. Lenister had met the man who now occupied the house in Paris on his first trip into Paris for his children. Lenister recognized an opportunist when he met Citizen Leon Fontaine, but the man served his purpose.

  “Ah, Citizen Lenister, I did not expect you this night, but come in. Come in,” a short hefty man greeted Lenister. “You should have let me know. I would have had rooms already prepared.”

  “There was no time. I go once more to Paris for my children,” Lenister offered. He looked around the entrance. “We had hoped to have made it into Amiens, but the weather forced us to stop here in Chatienge. Immediately, I thought of you and the kindness you had shown me on my prior visits.”

  Lenister did not add “and the money you have made by lending a helping hand.” Lenister continued, “My wife is in desperate need of dry clothes and a hot meal. Would it be too much to ask for a warm bath as well?”

  “But of course not. I will arrange it immediately,” Citizen Fontaine said and snapped his fingers. A young servant girl appeared. “Take the lady upstairs to the red room. Find her some dry clothes and food.”

  Eloise turned to Lenister, unsure whether to follow the girl. Lenister leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I will be up shortly.”

  Lenister stepped back. “I have to apologize for my manners. Citizen Fontaine. Let me introduce you to my wife. Perhaps you know of her family, the D’Arcy from Calais. Lady Eloise D’Arcy Lenister.”

  Lenister observed the look of recognition. Turning, Lenister waved his hand to Andre. “And this is her cousin, Citizen Andre D’Arcy, and of course you know my friend, Citizen Seamus McMann.”

  “Of course. Of course. Do come in by the fire,” Citizen Fontaine insisted.

  The easing of Citizen Fontaine’s manner was not ignored. The name D’Arcy carried the weight Lenister had hoped. The whole of the situation was complicated, but Lenister made a few assumptions on the ride to Chatienge. Someone betrayed the White Rose but he sensed they had not made the connection to the D’Arcy family, which meant the network had deep roots.

  Never before had he been more shocked to discover that his wife, Lady Eloise, the woman accused of sympathizing with the revolt and the horrors associated with it, had herself risked her life to save others caught in those horrors. He had suspected her to have connections, but not that she herself was the connection!

  Though, he suspected she served much as a figurehead to her cousin, Andre. Andre was no fool. He needed eyes to divert in a different direction from himself. Eyes looking for a woman, a woman Andre knew well lived across the Channel. Although, it seemed she crossed at times, to his disbelief.

  Good lord, who had he married? If Andre was to be believed, the woman had endured much in her lifetime. He watched Eloise glance back at him, and then reluctantly walk up the stairs behind the servant girl as Andre’s words resonated within him. The words Andre uttered before the desperate ride to find his wife.

  “Lord Lenister, I’m afraid Eloise has been used as a pawn much of her life. There is much you do not know about your wife,” Andre’s voice carried the scorn he felt for the man that forced his cousin into an unwanted marriage, dismissing the façade of pleasantries. There was no need—not here, not out exposed in the French countryside rooted with danger.

  “Then tell me,” Lenister pressed the man. “My mission is not a secret one, Citizen D’Arcy. Eloise knows well my reason. I have made it clear to all on my every venture into your country. Tell me why the hell my wife is here! Moreover, how the hell did she enter in the country so quickly?”

  Andre sneered. “You dare ask the question! You had her identified by your source. Did you not ask him how he knew of her?”

  “The Vicomte de Berolette told me his tale of a lady who helped the émigrés on their arrival in England. He saw her himself…”

  “And?” Andre shook his head in disdain. “You assumed she gave aid when they landed.” He laughed. “Oh, you fool! She sailed along the Freedom. It is her schooner, my lord. She does give aid in any measure it takes to save the hopeless.”

  Stunned, fear rose in his heart. Good Gawd! It was she…Eloise was the White Rose! Gripping the neck of Andre’s shirt, Lenister pulled the man up to his face. His anger burst forth. “Tell me all. Now!”

  “You may not like what you hear…”

  “Everything!” Lenister demanded. “Do not leave out a detail.” He released his hold on Andre with so much force the man almost lost his seat on his mount.

  Composing himself, Andre sat back and began.

  “I knew nothing of Eloise until she was around seven. It was then she began to come to our house for lessons. A British governess was hired. Looking back, I would assume it would have been Eloise’s father that would have done so. Just as I would now assume that my father took full advantage of the situation. It was then that the whispers began. Most believe that Eloise is a bastard, my lord.”

  “I have heard the same. It means nothing to me. Continue.”

  Andre stared at him for a moment as if studying him, trying to understand his need to know all about Eloise. Andre swallowed hard
. “If you have not determined, my father is motivated by wealth and status. It has always been so. My father hid Eloise from her father to extort money, I am certain. Our family benefited quite well from Eloise’s relationship to the Duke of Rotheward, but I’m afraid Eloise did not. My father found it easier to manipulate the situation with Eloise out of the picture. I discovered she was living in a small cottage outside Calais with a peasant family when I became fast friends with the boys who accompanied Eloise when she visited. Eloise lived with a widow, a Mame de Castel who had one time served as our housekeeper. The two boys were her sons, Luc and Marc Pierre Bernard…the one you seek.”

  Lenister eyed Andre without a muscle twitching, not revealing the confirmation of what he believed about his wife. Andre’s eyebrows lifted slightly. Then Andre continued.

  “It was not only my family that benefited. I have long suspected Mame Castel used Eloise’s presence to the advantage of both Luc and Marc Pierre. For Marc Pierre, he was allowed to go to school in Paris, where he became an attorney. Luc...let us say, we became business partners after he bought an old schooner. Luc was a skilled sailor. He had been smuggling since he was ten. He knew the exact schooner to buy, swift and strong. Luc handled the shipping…I myself sold the merchandise and arranged for any items to be sold across the Channel. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. We made many, many trips across the Channel.”

  “Eloise?” Lenister interrupted.

  “Ah, yes, Eloise. Before the Revolution, my father made a close alliance with a powerful aristocrat, Marquis Darius de Mortiere. Soon after, Eloise was sent to a convent with the marquis’ daughter, Giselle. When she was fifteen, Eloise was withdrawn from the convent with Giselle, who was two years older. I highly suspect that once more my father intervened in Eloise’s life. I do not know the whole of the story but I surmised that the marquis made an offer to my father that my father deemed advantageous to himself.”

  “Orville D’Arcy sold Eloise to the Marquis de Mortiere!” Lenister lost his restraint at the thought.

  “Hold! I have not finished. It is not what you believe. It might have been, but there is more to the story. More than Eloise knows herself, but if you think upon the deed, it is not hard to decipher why de Mortiere’s interest. Eloise is a beautiful woman, but the marquis went to incredible lengths to obtain Eloise. Would you not think, my lord? Ah, what more could there be?”

  “Eloise is the daughter of a powerful English duke. It would be easy to assume that the marquis would have used it to full advantage…as well as your father had,” Lenister replied sharply.

  “Oui, my lord. It would hold to the words that I have told you. That Eloise was born a pawn in a game where no one told her the rules. The story becomes quite murky at this point. Her time within the marquis’ household, I do not know much, only that it was not pleasant. There was talk about her marrying the vicomte. Whatever the reason, it was bad enough that Eloise felt the need to escape. She ran back to Calais…to my father’s house. Thankfully, I was home at the time…alone. I knew better than to tell my father of her reappearance. I brought her back to Mame de Castel and Luc…Luc took Eloise and hid her in a cottage along the coast used for his smuggling. It is where, I’m afraid, Eloise learned the smuggling trade.

  “I will not be delicate for it is not the time for such. I do not want to offend your sensibilities, Lord Lenister, nor do I want to betray Eloise, but to understand my cousin, it is something you must hear. Luc and Eloise were more than friends. They were lovers and soon Eloise was with child.”

  “A child!” Lenister sucked in a deep breath. In all the words he thought the man would utter, these were not among them. “Eloise has a child.”

  Andre shook his head. “Let me finish or do you not want to know the story?”

  Andre waited a moment. Lenister said nothing, but sat upon his horse, waiting for Andre to finish. Then Andre began again. “Luc…was my dearest friend. Dearer to me than my own brothers. I told him to take Eloise and go to America as he always dreamed …but fate dictated another course. The marquis had not stopped his search for Eloise. While Luc was out on a run, the Vicomte de Calognac found her.

  “There is much about the life of a mere commoner before the Revolution that you would not understand. The moment Eloise was found, Luc’s life was in grave mortal danger. The consequences of his actions…for his hiding Eloise…was a torturous death. Calognac made certain of it. From here, you need to ask your wife about the details of her time in the hands of Calognac. This I will tell you. Luc was captured. Marc Pierre and I plotted to rescue them both. We had friends among his men, but we were not quick enough.

  “Shortly after the birth of Eloise’s child, Calognac enacted his revenge. The baby was ripped from Eloise’s arms and Luc was tortured while she was made to watch. What more Calognac had planned for Eloise, I do not know. I know only we arrived too late that night…” Andre paused as if reliving the scene. Clearing his voice, he said, “When we arrived, our friends told us it was useless. Calognac had mercilessly tortured and killed Luc. Marc Pierre was as a madman and did not accept their word. He demanded to be taken to the body. Coming up from behind the scene, we found Eloise clutching tightly to Luc’s broken body…but to the side, Calognac lay dead also.

  “All hell broke loose from that moment. The Marquis de Mortiere came after Eloise and our family with a vengeance. Moreover, he had Eloise’s child, a girl…Rosabel. We had no choice; Marc Pierre and I sent word to Eloise’s father. He was her only chance. He came and took Eloise back to his home. Of that you knew, but what you do not know is that less than a year later, Eloise showed back upon our shores, determined to find her daughter.

  “She said she promised Luc…I could not in good conscience let her do so by herself. Luc was as my brother. By this time, the Revolution had begun. Eloise began by claiming the Freedom. I had tried to maintain the smuggling, but with Eloise…she put together a team. Instilling help from those who also needed help with their loved ones. A network began. The White Rose commenced. Marc Pierre helped also in the search of Rosabel, but all was in vain. Marc Pierre found what was left of the de Mortiere family. The baby had died. A sickly baby, it was told. One night developed a fever…the next morning, the babe no longer breathed. Giselle told this to Marc Pierre. He believed her and even saved the rest of the family. Eloise requested it be so. Giselle had been kind and her friend.

  “A new regime emerged in France in which Marc Pierre has formed a connection to those who hold the power. Many from his school days hold power…which allowed him to move up rapidly within the military. Marc Pierre has warned Eloise to back off, to go live her life in England. Forget France.

  “Neither Eloise or myself have done so. She has not stopped and will not, I fear, until she is caught and put to death. You, my lord, do not know your wife nor what you have asked of her. For she will stop at nothing to return your children to you. She cares nothing of her own life. In her eyes, it is as if her daughter did not die in vain. Rosabel will live in the lives of those she has saved. That is the woman you married.”

  That is the woman you married. Not the vain, heartless soul the ton thought. He watched her until she disappeared from his view. He turned his attention to his companions.

  “So, my friends, we cannot afford to waste any more time. Sit and plan. We have much to cover before the break of day.”

  Eloise was seated sideways on the window seat in the bedchamber; her legs drawn up beneath her. The night had grown old. She stared blankly out into the dreary night, but she saw nothing. She only felt the betrayal. The whole inception of the network had been enveloped with peril, but never once until this night had any betrayed their cause.

  Andre had left, traveling along the paths used within their network. He had much to accomplish and quickly, for lives depended on his warning. Moreover, he had to decipher the extent of that betrayal. The entire network hung in the balance.

  Had not Marc Pierre cautioned her? His last words to her, he
warned her, “Fear lives in the heart of all. Understand it is the intent of the terror, Eloise. The people you surround yourself will crumble under the pressure. It is human nature, the instinct to survive.”

  Marc Pierre had been right yet again. She had known the danger, but the reality was far worse. She was safe for now—saved by her husband, the man she was to protect. He had even seen to her care: bathed, fed, and given a wonderfully dried and warm nightgown. Though she still was in misery. She closed her eyes.

  “Eloise,” a voice called to her. Only after the second time her name was called did she open her eyes.

  Eloise looked up to find her husband towered over her. She lowered her gaze back to the darkened night. He reached down and pulled her to her feet. She couldn’t meet his gaze. Instead, she buried her face in his shoulder. He did nothing, but tightened his embrace. For years she held her emotions within her, but this night in his arms, the dam burst. Uncontrollably, her body shook and she began to weep.

  His hand stroked her head and whispered softly to her. Gradually, she regained a semblance of composure. She lifted her head and pushed gently against his hold, but he refused to release her.

  Finally, he said, “I’m sending you back with Seamus, Eloise. This is too dangerous. This…this is no place for you.”

  “The games are done, Gerard.” She looked directly up at him and searched his eyes. “I am doing what you wanted me to do the moment you discovered my existence. You have won. Sending me back now will defeat that purpose.”

  “It will work without you. You need only to send a note to your friend, Bernard. It should suffice…”

  She stared, disbelieving. Despite his words, an anger was there. His features were harsh; his lips in a hard, straight line. “No,” she said simply. “We both know that you will only get one attempt. If it doesn’t work and you have called them before the Council, all condemned die within twenty-four hours.”