by Mary Nichols
‘You thought you could mitigate your disgrace. Regain your claws, I think was how you put it. That has not changed.’
‘It was a foolish idea.’ He tugged on the horse’s reins and Pegasus followed obediently. ‘I should have known how impossible it was. I should have known it even before Captain Rufus Whitely turned up. I said he would give us away, didn’t I? He bargained our lives for his.’
‘I don’t understand,’ she said, calmer now. What was the good of fighting when she had no idea what she was up against? If he loved someone else… Better not think about it, better to concentrate on getting out of the scrape they were in. It was her own fault anyway; he had not asked her to fall in love with him. ‘He told me he belonged to British Intelligence,’ she said. ‘He said he was working for Viscount Wellington. If that was true, why did he denounce you? You would not have betrayed him, would you?’
He laughed aloud, making some small animal in the undergrowth scuttle away in alarm. ‘You believed him?’
‘Why not? When I met him before, he was working for the government.’
He stopped abruptly and turned to face her. She could see nothing of his features and wondered if his head was still bleeding and if he was still stupefied by his injury; it would account for his bad temper.
‘Government?’ he queried, putting his hand on her arm to detain her. ‘Who told you that?’
‘He did, and I must suppose he had some sort of authorisation because Papa believed it. He showed him the rockets.’
‘Rockets?’
‘Must you echo everything I say, or has that blow to the head deafened you as well as addled your brains?’
‘What rockets?’ His grip on her arm was painful and she pulled herself away and stumbled over a tree root. He reached out and gathered her into his arms to save her. ‘I am sorry, Olivia.’ His voice had lost its hard edge and become gentle; it made it even more difficult for her to deal with him. Anger she could answer with anger, suspicion with suspicion, but tenderness was something she had no armour against. ‘I am sorry I have been such a disappointment to you,’ he said, holding her against his broad chest and laying his cheek on her soft hair. ‘But now I must know everything.’
She sighed and allowed her head to rest on his shoulder; he was so strong, a bullet did no more than graze him, and she needed his strength because she felt weak as a kitten. ‘There is not much to tell. Papa gave him a demonstration of the rockets.’ She laughed suddenly, leaning back to look up at him. ‘They were a dismal failure, flying everywhere but where they were meant to go, but Mr Whitely seemed impressed. He said the Horse Guards was still interested and would commission their use once the tests had proved satisfactory. Papa was still working on them when I left England.’ She paused. ‘That was the last time I saw Mr Whitely until Ciudad Rodrigo.’
‘That was when he told you he was a British agent?’
‘No, later, after the battle of the bridge.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I gave my word not to.’
‘Did you never doubt him?’
‘I had no reason to.’
‘But you doubted me.’
There was no satisfactory answer to that and they resumed walking, picking their way along a track which she supposed the locals used. If that was the case, it must lead somewhere.
‘He has to be stopped,’ he said, more to himself than to her. ‘He is the traitor, not me. He is selling information to the French about those rockets, I’ll lay odds.’
‘He said he was on a special assignment for Viscount Wellington. He said the whole conduct of the war depended on his success. He said I could help him.’
He gave a grunt of wry amusement. ‘Success, yes, but French success, not ours. He must have been considerably put out to find me in the French camp. He could not let me return to our own lines to let the cat out of the bag.’ He paused. ‘Of course, he could have killed me, made it look as though I had fallen in battle, there are opportunities enough for that, but it was better to denounce me; it gave him more credibility with his French paymasters.’
She felt uncomfortably guilty that she had told Rufus Whitely that Robert was masquerading as a French officer; it would have been much better if he had believed him to be a deserter and, therefore, not a threat to him. ‘Do you think he has been sending false information back to Wellington, acting the double agent?’
‘Very possibly.’
‘Now, of course, you will have to return,’ she said, almost triumphantly. ‘You will have to report the facts.’
‘Someone else can do that.’
‘Who?’ She paused in her stride to look at him. All she could see were the whites of his eyes and his teeth, and she knew he was smiling. ‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘You do not get rid of me like that. And, besides, who will believe me?’
He laughed. ‘If Clavier can believe your tall tales, then Viscount Wellington will believe you when you tell the truth. I will give you letters…’
‘No. You must come too.’
‘I have other things to do.’
‘What? What is more important than reporting a spy?’ She stopped as she realised what he had in mind. ‘Oh, I see, you are going to Salamanca.’
‘Salamanca?’
‘There you go again, repeating everything I say like a parrot. Isn’t that where Juana is?’
He laughed suddenly. ‘If I didn’t know you better I would say you were jealous.’
‘What have I to be jealous of?’ she retorted. ‘We mean nothing to each other, do we? A chance encounter, that’s all it was, an opportunity taken to be useful to each other, and it seems to me I have fulfilled my side of our bargain but you have yet to fulfil yours.’ For the first time that he could remember, there was no humour in her laughter. ‘But pray do not let me detain you. Go to your Juana. I wish you joy. I can find my own way home. That, as you said, was what I was doing when we met, and nothing has changed. Nothing.’
She turned from him and stumbled through the trees, fighting her tears. A moment later, she returned and snatched the horse’s reins. ‘I’ll take Pegasus; he was given to me. You can walk.’ She threw herself on the horse’s back and sent him cantering through the darkness.
She was not sure but she thought she heard him laughing, and that was enough to increase her fury. The situation was most assuredly not funny and he was a fool if he thought she would go back after that. Let him find his Spanish love; she did not want him. She did not want any man. Had she not decided to remain a widow, to go back to Papa and comfort him in his old age, to stay at home and try to be the gentlewoman? She would forget the man whose laughter echoed in her ears. Forget him! Forget him!
Blinded by tears, she had no idea where Pegasus was taking her and he was in danger of stumbling if she continued. Her concern for her horse brought her to a stop. She slid from his back and stood leaning against him with her head in his sturdy neck, weeping oceans into his long mane.
Footsteps behind her made her spin round. He had come to find her; he was not the heartless knave she had thought him to be. ‘Robert, I…’
A hand was clapped over her mouth and her arms were forced behind her, so that she could neither move without pain, nor cry out. ‘I am sorry to disappoint you,’ said a voice. ‘But I did tell you not to trust that rogue, didn’t I? Let you down, has he? Deserted you? He won’t come back, you know.’
There was someone else with him because other hands were tying something tightly across her mouth, choking her. Then, in spite of her struggles, they bound her hands behind her back.
‘Put her on her horse,’ Rufus Whitely said.
She was lifted bodily and set astride Pegasus and the horse was led off with the men either side. Where was Robert? Had he heard the scuffle? How much distance had she covered since she left him? Why did he not rescue her? She had saved him from a greater force than two men, she had saved him from a whole regiment, so why could he not do the same for her? He would come, she told hers
elf as she struggled to keep her seat; he would take them by surprise and she would be ready to do her bit, even if her hands were bound.
After a little while they came to a clearing where their horses were tethered. Olivia remained tense and listening as they mounted and led her back the way they had come. Robert had still not put in an appearance when dawn lightened the sky above the distant peaks and she was led into Viseu. She knew then that he was not going to rescue her. What a fool she had been to expect he would!
The army was preparing to resume its march; a bugle was sounding the call to muster, horses were being harnessed and wagons tied down, but she did not doubt that time would be found for an execution before they moved. It would not take long to detail a firing squad. She resigned herself to the inevitable.
In the town centre, they came to a halt. Colonel Clavier was just coming out of his billet, strapping on his sword belt, and walking towards a horse being held by a groom at the roadside. An aide followed, carrying his plumed hat for him, ready to hand it up when he mounted. Behind them, Madame Falaise appeared, sumptuously dressed in pink satin and a matching turban whose sweeping peacock feather brushed her rouged cheek. At least, Olivia thought with a wry smile, I have escaped her fate.
Whitely led Pegasus forward. ‘One down and one to go, Colonel,’ he said.
Colonel Clavier looked her up and down and his lip curled. ‘I never thought I would say it, but I would rather have the man.’
Whitely laughed. ‘This one is more of a man than the other.’
Olivia, whose legs were free in order to ride, kicked out at him. He grabbed her foot and nearly unseated her. ‘It was meant as a compliment, my dear.’ He turned to the colonel. ‘Lynmount will return. He will walk in on his own, I promise you.’
She tried to speak but the gag prevented her from doing more than mumbling. He reached across and untied it. ‘Now, my dear, were you about to say he would not be such a fool as to come back?’ He smiled. ‘But I know the Honourable Robert Lynmount; I have known him since we were boys, when he lived in the big house and I lived at the rectory. His life is ruled by his notion of chivalry. I cannot afford that luxury.’ He gave a bark of derision. ‘He will be back.’
‘That is not what you said when you tied me up.’
‘No, but I wanted to stop you struggling or crying out.’ He turned back to the colonel. ‘With your permission, sir, I will bait the hook.’
Colonel Clavier nodded without speaking, took his hat from the aide and clapped it on his head, then walked his horse to the head of his troops. Behind him a drummer boy, no more than a dozen years old, wearing a cocked hat which seemed to swamp him, began to beat out the rhythm of the march. Rufus Whitely stood watching the front ranks as they left the square, then turned his horse away, leading Pegasus and the helpless Olivia to the rear. There was to be no execution.
He took her to one of the canteens on wheels looked after by a huge pipe-smoking Frenchwoman, whose muscular ability was notorious among the camp followers; the women were all afraid of her and so were most of the men. They paid her inflated prices for wine and tobacco without a murmur. ‘Jeanne!’ he called. ‘I have brought you a fare-paying passenger.’
The woman poked her head out between the canvas flaps at the back of the wagon and surveyed Olivia, from her tousled curls, over her trim figure to her scuffed boots and then feasted her eyes on the magnificent animal she rode. The girl was obviously as poor as a church mouse but the grey was worth a fortune to an army where good mounts were almost impossible to come by. She took the evil-smelling pipe from her mouth. ‘I’ll have the stallion,’ she said.
‘You shall have it,’ he said equably. ‘At the end of the march.’
‘What good is that?’ she demanded. ‘The officers need horses now. Two days from now they might all be dead.’
‘And so might you.’ He dismounted, led Pegasus up to the tailboard of the wagon and hoisted Olivia out of the saddle and on to it. ‘Five hundred francs now and the horse later.’
‘I’d rather have gold.’ She gave a cracked laugh. ‘’Tis a better currency.’
‘Very well.’ He tied Pegasus to the back of the wagon. ‘He is to stay there, do you hear?’
‘Are you crazy? That’s just asking to be robbed; he’ll have to be hidden.’
‘No, he is to stay there. I want him seen. I want him seen easily.’
‘If you think that will lure Captain Lynmount, you are very much mistaken,’ Olivia said, guessing what he intended. ‘Why do you think I was alone when you found me? We had parted, parted forever. He was going…’
‘Just where did he say he was going?’
She hesitated and he yanked on her bonds, making her cry out in pain. ‘It were better you told me.’
She was silent, prepared to endure the suffering if it meant her enemies expended valuable resources trying to find the Englishman, and especially if it put Rufus Whitely out of favour with his paymasters.
‘No matter,’ he said. Then to Jeanne, ‘Tie her to the wagon and keep a close eye on her. She is artful, and resourceful, so watch her like a hawk.’
‘And you?’ the woman asked.
‘Oh, I shall not be far away.’
He rode away chuckling to himself. Jeanne watched him go and then turned to do as he had asked. Olivia was tied securely to one of the iron hoops supporting the canvas of the wagon, and almost immediately they set off in the wake of the march.
The wagon, she discovered, was not only a mobile store for dispensing wine and tobacco, it was a cache for loot — gold and silver plate, jewellery, clocks, mirrors, even carpets. It was piled so high behind the normal stock, the vehicle was twice as heavy as it should have been and decidedly unstable. That was why it needed four mules to pull it and why they frequently found themselves losing touch with the rear of the column. On these occasions, Whitely would ride back — on Robert’s horse, Olivia noted — and urge Jeanne and the half-starved mules to go faster.
Olivia did not know why he continued to hold her prisoner, to feed her and have her adding weight to the already overburdened wagon; Robert was obviously not going to attempt a rescue and it would have been easier simply to have shot her and been done with the inconvenience. Even more she could not understand why the French themselves allowed her to live. When she put the question to Whitely one day, he laughed. ‘They think you are my mistress. Why do you think I keep returning to visit you?’
‘But you have a mistress, or a wife, I am not sure which.’ He had tied Thor to the wagon and joined her on the tailboard where they sat with their feet dangling over the side. From the outside she looked perfectly free to come and go and only from the inside could anyone see the rope around her waist which tied her to the structure. Pegasus was still roped to the back, plodding close enough to where she sat for her to be able to stretch out a hand now and again to give him a pat. When Rufus was not there, she found the companionship of the animal comforting.
‘I do?’ He looked surprised.
‘Juana. You said she was waiting for you in Salamanca.’
He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Yes. The bitch went off with a Spanish nobleman who has thrown in his lot with the new regime.’
‘Then why did you say she was waiting for you?’ Curiosity drove her to speak civilly to him, though she had earlier decided to maintain a cool silence. Robert would have been amused by that; he would have said keeping quiet was impossible for her and he would have been right.
‘To goad Lynmount, why else?’
‘Tell me what happened. Why was he cashiered?’
‘He never told you?’
‘No.’
‘He was court-martialled for looting.’
‘Looting?’ She found that hard to believe. ‘But Robert despises looters. Why, he nearly killed a soldier in Almeida for it.’
He smiled. ‘It’s understandable, my dear, when you know the facts.’
‘Tell me.’
‘He was caught plundering a
flour mill. The flour had already been bought and paid for by the army for the troops, so it was doubly serious.’
‘Why was he doing it?’
‘For Juana. She was seventeen, olive-skinned, with sleek black hair and huge dark eyes. The fool was in love with her, still is. He and her brothers were caught red-handed. They had a cart outside the mill loaded with sacks. There was no defence and he did not offer one. He will never return to England. His father really has cut him off without a penny.’
It seemed incredible. Had Robert regretted what he had done; was that why he wanted to regain his claws? Or had the dreadful accusations Whitely made been true — Robert did not care who won the war? Was he still in love with the faithless Juana? Had he gone to Salamanca to find her? She ought to be furious that he had kept so much from her but all she could feel was an overwhelming pity.
‘But you said Juana was waiting for you, not Robert.’
He laughed grimly. ‘Juana waits for no one, especially one as impoverished as I was; she could not wait for me to make my fortune.’ He glanced into the back of the wagon as he spoke and she realised that most of the loot was his. He could hardly blame Robert for taking food when he had thousands of pounds’ worth of stolen luxuries. ‘And, unlike our friend Lynmount, I have no prospects of a title.’ He smiled, a twisted, secretive smile. ‘Unless a grateful country rewards me with one.’
‘You mean you really are a British agent?’
He turned and held up his hands, palms towards her. ‘I swear to you, as an officer and a gentleman, that I have been sent here by Viscount Wellington.’
‘Then it is true.’
‘I said it was, did I not?’
‘But the contents of the wagon are your plunder. How can you condemn Robert…?’
‘I did not condemn him, a court-martial did that and, besides, taking from your enemies is very different from stealing from your allies. Even you should be able to see that. Every action that deprives the French of any of the means to wage war is a patriotic action, is it not?’
