MARINE (Agent of Time Book 1)

by Tanya Allan

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Back to work

  They left me with no alternative but to resort to my only means of communication at my disposal; the newspapers personal columns. It was a system that was used by our organisation and probably by the enemy too. We had a set code, utilising biblical references to impart information. Based on the King James Bible, it was a complicated system involving numbers and letters according to chapters and verses.

  It took me the best part of the following morning to construct the correct advert, and then I had to arrange for it to get the next coach to London. I would be happy once there was a proper mail system in this country.

  I took our carriage to Oxford at noon, with Oliver driving me for the first time. I took my letter to the Coach office, and the clerk assured me it would be in London by the following day.

  It was walking distance to Magdalene College, and so I told Oliver to wait for me. With my trusty revolver in my large cloak pocket, and my hood up, I arrived outside the college at two forty five. I was much surprised to find a fair crowd gathered to cheer the Duke, I forgot that he was still the Hero of the Nation.

  I suddenly got a fleeting glimpse of a tall man with a large moustache, and to my horror, I saw that it was the same man that I had killed in the early hours of this very morning.

  My enemies were quick. They had obviously found Soames gone, assuming he was no longer reliable, so had hurried to re-construct Armes again to finish the job. I wondered whether Soames had a body to return to anymore. I doubted it.

  As I was feverishly trying to work out how to deal with the problem, a squad of red-coated infantrymen marched round the corner, coming to a halt fifty yards away. This I found a relief, as I didn’t fancy using my pistol with all these people about. A tall young officer on a dapple-grey horse followed them, and I recognised him. It was Captain Pierce from that day in Paris.

  He dismounted and I hurried over to him.

  “Captain Pierce!”

  He looked my way, frowning in some confusion. So, I pulled my hood back so as to let him see me.

  “Lady de Lambert. Gracious, how nice to see you, Madam.”

  “Captain. This is indeed a day for strange coincidences,” I said.

  “Really? How so?”

  “Well, I have seen two people from that dreadful day in Paris already. There is your good self, and the twin of the assassin that my husband dealt with.”

  He frowned, so I turned and pointed to Armes, who was lurking at the rear of the crowd. The good Captain paled and his mouth opened in shock.

  “Ye Gods! It can’t be! I saw him die in your arms.”

  “I know that, sir, now you see my consternation. It must be his brother set out to avenge the death of his twin.”

  The Captain turned to his sergeant and sent half the platoon to the rear of the crowd. Once they were in place, he had the others march along the road, halting adjacent to our target.

  I covered my head with my cloak and melted back against the building line. I did not wish Armes to see me this time.

  The soldiers, all briefed as to the man they wanted, turned brought their rifles to the ready position, bayonets fixed, and advanced through the crowd towards Armitage.

  The man was so engrossed in watching the gates to the college, that he only noticed the advancing soldiers when they were six yards away. He looked shocked, turned, and fled away from them.

  He came to a sudden and abrupt halt at bayonet point of the others who were waiting for him down the lane to the rear.

  “Stand fast, in the name of the King!” shouted the Captain.

  Armes drew a pistol and looked slightly panicky for a moment. The few members of the public at the rear of the crowd screamed and hindered the soldiers slightly.

  The soldiers needed no bidding to raise their rifles to the fire position, and the advancing soldiers hesitated, as they did not wish to be shot by their colleagues.

  There was no escape for the man, so I watched, powerless, as Armes placed the muzzle of his pistol to his temple and pulled the trigger.

  There was a single shot and he slumped against the cobbles, his brains spread over the wall to his left. More people screamed, so the soldiers formed a protective circle around the remains.

  At than moment Robert Peel and his Grace the Duke left the college and glanced briefly at the small crowd around the soldiers. Peel walked away and mounted a carriage, but his Grace decided to investigate the soldiers’ activities.

  The captain saluted and whispered in his ear, and the Duke looked closely at the assassin’s body.

  Captain Pierce saw me and waved me over, so I had no choice but to go.

  “My dear Jane; once again, it seems I am indebted to you. What a strange thing. For he is the spitting image of that fiend in Paris,” said his Grace.

  “I know, isn’t it remarkable? I was just delivering some mail to the coaching office, and thought to visit my friend Mrs Courtney, when I saw him. Then I saw the good Captain, remarking to him how strange it was that he seemed the very likeness of that man in Paris. The Captain reacted with wonderful efficiency. Obviously the man did not wish to be taken alive.”

  Some members of the Oxford City Watch arrived, so the soldiers helped remove the remains. I bade farewell to the Duke, but he insisted upon escorting me to my carriage in person.

  “Madam, I shall have to employ you as my personal bodyguard, as you seem, fortuitously, to be available to save my unworthy life yet again,” he said.

  “I am only pleased to have been of service, your Grace. I am, however, somewhat curious to know how one man can appear alive again after having been killed some months ago,” I answered.

  “A good question, madam, a good question indeed; I believe that he must be the twin of the man in Paris. Certainly, as you have already observed, he bears a remarkable resemblance to the man in Paris. I have asked Captain Pierce to look into the matter. I shall let you know of any findings.”

  “I would be most interested, your Grace,” I said. He kissed my hand as I climbed into the carriage. Oliver held the door open, gaping at the Duke, not believing whom he was seeing.

  Oliver drove me home. I was satisfied that I had done my job this day. Oliver was agog with the fact that the Duke of Wellington was amongst my group of friends, and I swear his chest was puffed out more than ever.

  I stayed in for the next few days, as it snowed, and the children were suffering from the sniffles. At the weekend, I took them out for a walk, so they threw many snowballs at each other and their mother. William was a tough little chap, taking no bullying from his bossy elder sister. Katie was turning into a very pretty girl; but didn’t she know it.

  She flirted outrageously and unconsciously with any male aged between twelve and seventy. I feared that this was going to get herself into serious trouble. That evening, she and I had a mother and daughter chat. I gave her the facts of life with both barrels.

  I left her gaping after me with a very pale face. She was somewhat subdued for a few days after our little chat, and I reckoned that no other eleven year old in 1816 had ever been told that much by her mother, or even by her stepmother.

  Her lessons with young Raymond Spurway were progressing well, and William was also getting to grips with his first basic lessons, although he much preferred riding and playing with soldiers to his schoolwork. He told everyone that he was going to be a soldier, like his Papa and his grandpapa.

  Raymond came to me and said that he believed he had saved sufficient for his further studies, so wanted to try to go to Oxford in the forthcoming Autumn. It was still January, but he was feeling guilty that he would be letting us down.

  I told him that we were planning to move to America, so that it was a fine plan to go to Oxford. He was much happier after our little talk.

  Little Edward was a delight. In fact, I was a little concerned as he rarely cried. He was progressing rather quicker than I felt was usual, and I put this down to the enhanced genes from my constru
cted body. He was fully weaned and already walking. He was larger than most of his age, and was even attempting speech. He already knew ‘Mama’, ‘Dada’, ‘Katie’ and ‘Will’.

  It would be interesting to see how he developed. I was struck by his resemblance to my memories of my early photographs as Edward Ryan.

  The snow left as quickly as it had come and, one afternoon, we received a surprise visit from Marjorie’s parents. I would have preferred Roger to have been at home, but he wasn’t and so I just had to deal with it on my own.

  I was in the nursery playing with Edward, when Abigail came and found me.

  “Mr Groves says for you to be told that Katie and William’s grandparents have arrived, Mum.”

  “Thank you Abby, I will be down directly. Are the children with Mr Spurway?”

  “Yes Mum.”

  “Then please inform Mr Spurway, and suggest that they have a break.”

  “Yes Mum,” she said, disappearing.

  I picked up Edward and carried him downstairs. Groves had taken them into the drawing room, where there was a good fire going. I steeled myself and entered.

  Mr John Richardson stood as I entered, while his wife, Geraldine, sat rather primly on the sofa. She was a stout woman, slight in stature but greater in girth. Her clothing was somewhat drab but functional. She had her grey hair curled into ringlets, but more for ease of maintenance than fashion. Her husband was of medium height, with grey hair and of a well-proportioned physique. I imagined he was a good-looking man when younger. I could see more of his daughter in him than her.

  “Mr and Mrs Richardson, how lovely to meet you at last. Roger has told me so much about you. I am Jane, and this is our son, Edward,” I said.

  They were polite, probably feeling as awkward as was I.

  “I have told the children’s tutor that you are here, so I suspect that we will hear them any second now,” I said, and as I spoke, the sounds of running feet could be heard on the stairs.

  I stood back to avoid being crushed in the rush, as the two children ran in, giving their grandparents huge hugs. I sat by the fire as the children brought them up to date, and soon they were dragging the couple upstairs to see their work and their rooms.

  I let them have free rein for an hour, but then quietly suggested that they had another half an hour’s schoolwork, after which we would have tea together. They knew that I was not going to let them get away from their studies easily.

  While the children finished up with Raymond, I arranged for tea to be served; so having a few moments with John and Geraldine. It must be hard for them to visit their grandchildren, particularly for the children to call a strange woman ‘Mama’ instead of their daughter. I said as much to them, at which Geraldine almost broke down in tears.

  “I am so sorry, my dear, but after our daughter’s tragic death; we stayed here for the sake of the children for several weeks. But then we had to return home, so we have hardly been able to visit since. Then we heard that Roger had remarried, and although you sent us an invitation, we could not bring ourselves to come. It was still so painful for us, you see.

  “We had planned to visit before this, but we understood that the household had moved to France. In such circumstances, of course, we were unable to do so. We saw the announcement of the birth of your dear little son in the Times, so I knew that we should make contact with you. But as you so rightly point out, it was very hard to come here with a stranger being a mother to our dear late daughter’s children.”

  “Katie is obviously very fond of you, she calls you, ‘mama’.” observed John.

  “I confess that I could not love Katie or William any more had they been my own,” I said, sensing a thaw in the atmosphere.

  “Roger took Marjorie’s death very badly. We never thought he would get over it. We were so pleased for him. And Katie is becoming very like her Mama.”

  “She certainly is. We had a long talk only recently about life, as she is an outrageous flirt,” I said.

  Geraldine laughed.

  “Marjorie was just the same at her age,” she said.

  We talked about Marjorie and the children for a little while, and then Abigail brought in the tea. There was a commotion in the hall, in which I heard my husband’s voice. The cavalry had arrived!

  I went to greet him, embracing him with passion.

  “Marjorie’s parents have come to visit,” I said, as he smothered my lips with kisses.

  “Damn!” he said, as the children appeared.

  “I met the Duke last night. He told me of your fun and games in Oxford. We must talk of that later,” he said.

  He gathered up his two children, hugged them, and then made a fuss of Edward, whom I still held. He then went into the drawing room and greeted our visitors.

  I sat in a chair with Edward, allowing Roger to dominate the conversation with his late wife’s parents. The children were on very good behaviour, Katie particularly. She glanced at me and winked, the little minx. She was making such an effort to show them how much she had changed. I had no idea how she used to behave when they last saw her, but as she took the dirty cups out to the kitchen, I caught the meaningful glance that Geraldine gave her husband.

  Katie and William still called me ‘Mama’ without thinking. It sounded so right, but Geraldine winced slightly each time.

  “Will you stay? It is such filthy weather, and I’m sure Cook has sufficient for us all,” I said.

  They glanced at each other, obviously they hadn’t planned to, but they were now tempted.

  In the end, they agreed to spend one night, so we allowed the children to have dinner with us as a special treat. It was actually a lovely time, but I felt very sorry for the couple. One should never have to bury a child, it is not right. Roger was charm itself, and was ever so cheerful. I wondered how his meetings had gone, so was aching to get him alone.

  Geraldine was obviously tired, so announced that she wished to retire as we finished dinner. I stood to bid her goodnight, when she surprised me by embracing me quite robustly.

  “Dear Jane, I am so sorry that I was so cool towards you. I see now that you are the best thing to happen to Roger and the children. Please forgive me?” she said.

  “Think no more of it. I am only sad that it has been so long since you were last able to visit. I do appreciate how hard this must be for you, but you will always be welcome in our home. I sadly have no parents, so your role as grandparents will always be valued,” I replied.

  She smiled, kissed my cheek and went up to bed.

  John stayed a while, drinking brandy with Roger and talking about America. Then he realised that we had not seen each other for many days, bade us goodnight, and followed his wife up stairs.

  Moments later, I had my husband naked in my arms in our bed, and we were making love as if it was going out of fashion.

  Afterwards, as we lay curled up with each other, he kissed me tenderly.

  “My darling, how I have missed you,” he said.

  “I have gone to sleep every night wanting you inside me,” I said, as he kissed my naked shoulder.

  “How I love you. You grow more beautiful every day,” he said, kissing my breast, so before I knew what was happening, he was mounting me again.

  He more than made up for the days he had been away that night; the clock struck three before we settled down to sleep.

  We rose at eight and, over breakfast, caught up with each other’s news. He told me that he had written to his brother and asked him to have a house built for us. It seems that James had bought the neighbouring plantation, fully intending that Roger take it over. The existing house was in poor repair, so he planned to knock it down and build one to Roger’s specifications.

  I was excited, as a poor boy from Ohio, I was eagerly looking forward to being a plantation owner’s wife in wealthy Virginia.

  “I am reluctant to utilise the labour of slaves, as I believe it is morally wrong,” said Roger.

  “I agree, but I imagine it’s
a sorely contended matter, and one that could cause civil war if they are not careful. In any case, I foresee the time that all slaves will be freed, so it would pay us to be one of the few who do not use slave labour,” I said.

  Roger smiled and took my hand.

  “Dear Jane, you are so wise. Most women would not have an opinion on this sort of matter, let alone such a mature and intelligent one.”

  “Roger, my darling, when will you ever learn? I am not, and never will be, like most women.”

  I then told him about the incident with the assassin. I left the assumption open that he was after the Duke, but Roger was solely concerned with my safety.

  “Oh, I was fine, with all those soldiers and the dashing Captain Pierce, I knew I was as safe as houses,” I said.

  He kissed me, and I felt myself becoming aroused again, but our guests came into the dining room.

  We bade them good morning, but I left them with Roger so I could see to the children.

  Overall, it was a pleasant visit. As the weather had improved somewhat, they left after lunch, happy that they had been, and satisfied that I wasn’t neglecting their grandchildren. Indeed, they expressed surprise that Katie was such a changed girl, as her behaviour was simply exemplary.

  When I told the girl, she chuckled naughtily, smiling knowingly at me.

  “You were right, Mama, it pays to make people think good things of you.”

  “What makes you say that?” I asked.

  She showed me the presents that they had given her, “for being such a good girl, they said.”

  I smiled and gave her a hug, she had settled down so well now, and I was truly fond of her. She sat on the floor by my feet.

  “Mama?”

  “My love?”

  “Is it wrong to love a stable hand?”

  “Oliver?”

  She blushed.

  I smiled. “Love is never wrong. It can often be stupid, ill conceived and sometimes even dangerous. We can seldom choose whom we love, but often choose whom not to love. One must always take a step back and look at the person or situation with another’s eyes, and if it won’t work, you must be honest with yourself and the other person, and tell them at the start. You see; our society sets lots of silly rules in place, that if you follow them, you can have a relatively easy life, but if you deliberately flaunt them, then you are asking for problems.