No, for so long as she could, Prudence must pretend to be the deaf nun. And she must also pretend that she did not know, did not care, who her priest companion might have been. To do anything else would be to put both their lives at even greater risk than they already were. So, as difficult as it was, Prudence made herself close her eyes again and try to go back to sleep.
At least she did so until it occurred to her that there was a prie-dieu in the room. She could kneel at that, as if in prayer, and who would dare to call it wrong or connect it with plans of escape? What would be more natural for a nun? Or what stranger than to not see her at her prayers?
Prudence rose from her bed and donned her nun’s habit. She clutched the rosary in her hands and knelt at the prie-dieu. The padding felt well worn under her knees and her hands rested on the small shelf but it was enough to support her. It felt strange to be doing so, but there was no sham in her prayers for guidance in finding a way to escape, in asking for both her life and the colonel’s to be spared.
She listened as well to the footsteps of soldiers in the street below. To footsteps in the house itself. One could not, she realized, hope to slip out unseen as the household slept for it never did. But then Prudence had not thought escape would be easy. Not when she did not even know where her sham priest of a companion was being kept.
Still, there were no more shots fired, no sound of a man’s screams to be heard. And when, in her fatigue, Prudence could think of nothing more to listen for, nothing more to try, she crept back to her bed and this time truly did go to sleep. She never even noticed the face that watched from the barely opened doorway.
* * * *
Capitaine Jean Louis Dumont heard the reports with a growing sense of frustration. “I know there is something between the two!” he growled. “Every instinct tells me so.”
The old woman shrugged. “Me, I saw nothing to tell me so. He did not seem to care. She asked nothing about him. Indeed, she does not speak at all. Nor react when I do so.”
“Nonetheless,” Capitaine Dumont said with certainty, “there is something there. The question is, are they both spies or is it simply that they are attracted to one another, a man and a woman?”
The old woman gasped and crossed herself. “Mon dieu! But he is a priest and she is a nun!”
Dumont glanced at the woman sardonically. “No, he is a spy. An Englishman. She, I do not yet know who or what she may be, but I will find out.”
He spoke with a greater certainty than he felt. Dumont could, in truth, only hope that his messengers—one to the convent and one to Paris—would return with due haste and have something, anything, to tell him that would be to the point.
Abruptly he spoke to the old woman again. “Continue to watch. Continue to speak of them, each to the other. Listen. Report anything, anything at all, that you hear.”
The old woman looked at him with amusement in her eyes, as if she thought him foolish. But Dumont didn’t care. He would find out their secrets, he vowed. One way or another. He only hoped he had time before the entire matter was taken out of his hands by whoever came from Paris.
Chapter 5
The agent from Napoleon, from Paris, stared at both the unmasked priest and at the apparent nun.
“Perhaps I was mistaken in the name of the convent,” Harry said with a shrug. “I did not pay a great deal of attention and my French is not so good as I would like.”
Capitaine Dumont smiled a thin, mean smile. “I see. I have sent my man back out again. This time with instructions to ask at other convents nearby. There are not so very many, after all, in this part of France. We will see if any of them know of you. Or had within their walls a nun who did not speak.”
Harry did not dare look at Prudence. He could feel her tremble beside him. He felt as if he had failed her and he did not know what to do to make matters right.
The agent stepped closer to Dumont and spoke in his ear. They argued for several minutes, but Harry could overhear nothing and it worried him. Finally the agent won. As had been inevitable, Harry thought with a sour smile. He was not surprised when Dumont snapped at him. It must rankle to be overborne by a bureaucrat from Paris.
“You will both leave with Monsieur Gilbert within the hour. And may God have mercy on your souls.”
Harry looked at Prudence and drew in a deep breath. He willed her to look at him and when she did he said, “I am sorry, ma soeur.”
Monsieur Gilbert pounced. He looked at Harry and tilted his head to one side. His voice was soft and silky as he said, “I thought you said she is deaf?”
Harry shrugged. “She is. But just because she cannot hear or understand does not excuse me from the need to apologize to her for the situation in which she finds herself because of me.”
Gilbert bowed, conceding the point. Prudence remained impassive, as though she truly were deaf, truly did not know they had been talking about her. She even kept her head bowed, as though she were the meek creature she seemed, instead of the termagant Harry knew her to be. He could only hope some of that spirit would return soon so that if the chance to escape presented itself on this journey, she would be ready. And he also hoped she still had the dagger he had given her with which to protect herself before they encountered Dumont and were captured. His own had, of course, been confiscated. It reassured him to believe that if the worst occurred, she might be able to defend herself.
But there was little enough time to think. They were herded into a room together, Harry and Prudence, and left alone. Or so they were meant to think. Harry would have wagered that someone was able to see, able to overhear everything that might occur in this room.
Apparently Prudence thought so as well because she made no attempt to throw off her guise, but rather clutched her rosary and seemed deep in prayer. Only he could hear the murmur of her words as she did so and it took him several moments to realize what she was saying.
* * * *
Prudence clutched her rosary tightly, her hands folded as if in prayer. But she was far more aware of the dagger hidden beneath her robe. If there were a way, she should give it back to the colonel, for that would be far more to the purpose and more likely, she thought, to do them some good.
No more than the colonel did she trust the two Frenchman. Or the way they had apparently been left alone together. Perhaps, she thought, there might be a way to fool whoever might be watching or listening?
Slowly Prudence began to murmur, her head bowed. Let anyone watching think she was praying. Only the colonel was close enough to hear her. If others heard anything at all, it would be a droning cadence that would sound like prayer. It was a risk to do even so much when she was supposed to not speak at all but it was a risk she had to take..
“We are not really alone are we? They are trying to catch us in a lie, aren’t they?”
Prudence had to repeat these two sentences several times before she saw the colonel’s body suddenly stiffen. He half turned away from her, but she knew he had heard her. So she went on.
“We must find a way to escape before we reach Paris I presume. Otherwise we are both done for, are we not?”
Colonel Langford rubbed the back of his neck and managed to nod as he did so. Prudence suppressed the tiny spark of triumph she felt. Surely such optimism was premature? Even with this understanding between them, it would not be easy to find an opportunity to escape. But still the small communication between them comforted Prudence in a way she could not have explained.
Apparently Colonel Langford also felt there was nothing more to be said for abruptly he looked at her, appeared to snort with disgust, and then put as much distance between them as possible. Prudence pretended not to notice, though she wanted to smile at his attempts to fool their captors. Somehow she did not think they were truly that naive.
A moment later the door opened and they were both taken out of the room to mount their mules. The soldiers, she noted with resignation, had horses. They clearly wished to be certain that neither she nor the colon
el could possibly outrun them. His hands were bound behind him but at least hers were left free.
It was not a pleasant journey. Aside from the jests of the soldiers about her person, the agent from Paris had apparently decided to see if he could either prod her into betraying herself or Colonel Langford into coming to her defense. His taunts became increasingly coarse. And though she knew it wisest that she pretend not to notice, not to care, it was not easy.
And when they stopped for the night, matters became worse. Apparently Monsieur Gilbert decided that coarse insults were not enough. He insisted on helping Prudence down from her mule and leaned over her as he said, with a leer, “I wonder how much woman there might be under that habit.”
Colonel Langford came instantly to her defense. “She is a nun!” he protested.
Monsieur Gilbert shrugged. “Me, I do not care. All the better if I am her first.”
“Don’t you care how she will feel?”
Gilbert paused long enough to turn and smile at the colonel. It was a very unpleasant smile. “Have you not realized yet? I will enjoy it all the more for her fear.”
“The church! It will come after you!”
Again that smile. “She cannot speak. You have said so yourself. And even if she had a tongue, well,” Gilbert shrugged. “Who is to say she will reach Paris alive?”
He turned back to Prudence and stroked the side of her cheek, even as his other hand held her arm in an iron grip. “Of course,” he said softly, his breath warm and fetid on her cheek, “you may persuade me to keep you with me as long as you can please me.”
And then he reached to tear at her clothing. Colonel Langford spoke from behind them, his voice even more desperate than before. “Wait! There is something I must tell you,” he said. “Something more important than the nun. My father was the late Lord Darton.”
Monsieur Gilbert paused, puzzled. “So?”
“Lord Darton,” Colonel Langford repeated with significance.
“I still do not understand,” Monsieur Gilbert said impatiently, “nor do I care.”
He started to reach for Prudence again and she shrank away. Again the colonel spoke.
In a voice that was soft as silk and very dangerous, he said, “You should care. My father was in correspondence with Bonaparte.”
That stopped Gilbert. He looked at the colonel. He blinked. He stood very still as he patently searched his memory. Finally he shook his head.
“I do not know of any such correspondence. Are you certain?”
“It is why I am in France,” Colonel Langford replied, his voice as silky as before and this time pregnant with unspoken meaning.
“This correspondence, of what was it about?”
Prudence watched with fascination as the colonel paused, looking for all the world as though he were searching his memory now. Then he spoke of things that made no sense to her but apparently had meaning to both men.
Gilbert’s eyes grew wide, he uttered a blistering oath, then he strode over to where the colonel stood and shoved him over.
With his face mottled by rage, Monsieur Gilbert snarled. “So it was your father who stole that letter! Do you know how much trouble that cost us? You thought to help your cause? Well now I tell you it is a thousand times worse!”
Talk of a letter meant nothing to Prudence. Her concern, her attention, was all for the colonel. He did not try to argue. Or get up. Instead he lay very still on the ground and Prudence was grateful for his restraint. Monsieur Gilbert looked to be in a murderous rage and she did not think she could bear it if he hurt Colonel Langford any further.
After a moment, Gilbert regained his self-control. He turned away from the colonel with only one more kick to the fallen man. He drew in a deep breath and started toward Prudence. There was a look in his eyes that terrified her. He had said he would keep her alive only as long as she pleased him. She believed him.
With a shudder, Prudence realized that she was not likely to survive the night. She drew in a deep breath and made her decision. She might have been raised to believe in the sanctity of life, but no one had ever said she must be a martyr.
Gilbert moved closer. He repeated his words of before. “Now,” he said, “let us see how much woman is beneath that habit.”
Prudence had taken advantage of the altercation between Colonel Langford and Gilbert to move away from the mule and now she took a step backward, forcing Gilbert to follow. He reached out and pulled her to him, but not before she had him at the edge of the clearing.
For an instant she stiffened, then she forced herself to melt against the man. There was no other way to carry out the decision she had made. Prudence offered no protest when Gilbert grabbed her breast or thrust his tongue inside her mouth. Instead she felt for the dagger hidden beneath her robes.
When she felt his grasp lessen just a trifle, Prudence pulled free and tugged at his hand as though to pull him deeper into the woods. Gilbert gave a tiny crow of triumph and followed willingly.
He never even suspected when Prudence reached beneath her robes and retrieved the dagger. She stabbed Gilbert through the heart. At least she hoped it was the heart. In any event, he dropped and she moved quickly away, shaking, and was violently ill.
This was not how she had been raised to behave. This betrayed every principle she had ever been taught. But she also remembered the feel of his hands on her, the sight of him kicking Colonel Langford as he lay on the ground.
Prudence swallowed hard. She had already betrayed her principles once and she was about to do it again, if that was what it took to rescue herself and the colonel. Still shaking, Prudence reached forward to retrieve the knife from the dead Frenchman, but it would not pull free. Instead she armed herself with a heavy branch and crept back to the clearing where Langford lay.
As she hoped, the soldiers were occupied in speculating about what she and Monsieur Gilbert might be doing. She scarcely spared a glance for the colonel who wisely lay on the ground where the Frenchman had left him. He was, she noted with relief, close to the edge of the woods.
He was the first to see her and when she held a finger to her lips he nodded his understanding. She backed away, out of sight, to consider her options. Perhaps there was a way to help him escape without hurting anyone else?
But the colonel didn’t wait for her to decide. Instead he called out softly to the guards.
“I must relieve myself,” he said.
He had to say it more than once. They grumbled and made coarse jests but finally the largest one was delegated to accompany Colonel Langford into the woods. Prudence was careful to stay close but out of sight and she heard the soldier agree to free the colonel’s hands to allow him to undo his pants rather than do that task for him.
Apparently whatever Langford had planned, he carried out swiftly for in moments the colonel was by her side. “What happened to Monsieur Gilbert?” he asked.
“The dagger you gave me,” Prudence said, unable to tell him more. “What happened to the soldier?”
“I had my fists.”
Prudence closed her eyes in relief. So he had not killed the man! But she knew they were not safe yet. She opened her eyes and asked, “What shall we do about the others?”
“Wait here.”
Before she could ask what he meant to do, he was gone. A few minutes later the other three guards disappeared, one by one. Shortly after that, Colonel Langford reappeared by her side.
“Come,” he said. “We’ll take two horses and scatter the rest. We’ll have to ride hard and go as far as we can before morning. If we are lucky, no one will find these men for a while and they will not soon wake up. But we must not count on that.”
Prudence was not so foolish as to argue. Except that she did say, “Would any of the uniforms fit me? I feel far too conspicuous dressed as a nun.”
Colonel Langford considered the matter, then nodded. “Perhaps it would be best. If we are caught you could pretend you had captured me and then escape at your first chance. We
’ll take one uniform now and find new clothes for both of us when we are some distance away. The more we change, the more likely we are to confound any pursuit. But bring your habit as well. Let them wonder whether to look for a nun and a soldier or a priest and a soldier or a priest and a nun. The more confusion the better.”
It only took Prudence moments to change once Colonel Langford brought her the uniform. She was as conscious of the need to hurry as he was. He dragged the boy whose uniform they took farther from the rest.
And then they were on their way, riding hard through the night. Only when they had put some distance between themselves and the clearing did Prudence react. She began to shake. But when Colonel Langford asked her if she wished to stop for a moment, she refused.
“I’ve no wish to be caught again,” she answered tartly.
He nodded, though he continued to cast worried looks in her direction as though he felt he could not afford to have her collapse on him. And she didn’t. Instead she rallied to confront him.
“So you are English. And a soldier. What were you doing in France?” she asked.
The colonel sighed. No doubt he would have preferred it if he had never had to tell her anything. “You may as well tell me,” she persisted. “If we are caught again, I cannot think it likely either of us will survive anyway.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Perhaps it would be as well if you do know,” he said. “If something happens to me, I shall have to hope that you can reach Spain on your own. And if you do, perhaps you could give the information I carry to Wellington.”
“No!”
Her response was automatic. Instinctive. He stiffened. “You do not understand,” Colonel Langford said impatiently. “This is not a mere whim. It is a matter of utmost importance for Wellington to know what the French are doing. It is a matter of saving lives.”
“I still cannot do it,” she replied, holding herself stiff as well.
The Sentimental Soldier Page 4
