Bertrice Small

by Unconquered

  “Did Lord Palmerston know?” asked Amanda.

  “Of course,” came the reply.

  “Then why didn’t he tell Miranda?”

  “He probably felt he might endanger her health, and the baby’s.”

  “Then why didn’t he say something after little Tom was born?”

  Jared shook his head. “I don’t know, Amanda. I simply don’t know.”

  “Well I do!” replied Amanda, now recovered and warming to her subject. “Lord Palmerston believes he is a law unto himself! Your mission had been sidetracked, and he no longer wished to be reminded of it. Then, too, he holds that most women are of little other than decorative use. Considering his admiration of the dowager Lady Melbourne, and his close association with her daughter, Lady Cowper, I am surprised he did not see Miranda’s intelligence and confide in her.

  “His attitude drove Miranda to desperation. If he had offered her one crumb of hope, one word of encouragement, she would never have left little Tom and gone sailing off to St. Petersburg to find you. This is all his fault!” Once more she burst into tears.

  Anne rose quickly and put a comforting arm around Amanda. “Mandy, you cannot give way like this. I am distressed to see you so. Go to the nursery and have the children made ready to see Lord Dunham. I shall finish explaining to him.” She helped Amanda to the door, gently shoving her from the room. Turning back to face Jared, she was disconcerted to see him watching her with a look akin to amusement. “Do you find something funny, m’lord?” she asked more sharply than she had intended.

  “You, my pretty English rose! I wonder if brother Jon is fully aware of the treasure he has.”

  She colored becomingly. “Fie, sir, I see that your reputation is well earned.”

  He laughed, “I am going to call you Anne, and you are going to call me Jared.” Suddenly he stiffened and said, “What children? You said children.”

  “Amanda became a mama just a bit over a month and a half ago. Your Tom has a cousin, Edward, or Neddie as he’s called.”

  Jared nodded, dazed. “Why did I go to Scotland?”

  “A fishing party on Lord Stewart’s estate.”

  “Good Lord, Jon hates to fish! He hasn’t the patience. Says there is something demeaning in having an air of pride over outwitting a fish.”

  Anne laughed. “Yes, he is ever practical, my Jon. By the way, m’lord—Jared—since he is you, in public I am still Mistress Bowen. Only Amanda knows our secret, no one else. Not Lord Swynford, not the servants, nor even my own two children. In his role as Jared, Jon pretended to be called away by Lord Palmerston so that we might have a brief honeymoon. Then he went on up to Scotland to join the others.”

  “When are they due back? I seem to recall the footman who greeted me saying something about next week.”

  “Yes, midweek,” replied Anne.

  “No need to send a messenger then. They’ll be back just as quickly. Perhaps, however, I might meet them before they get here. Be easier to exchange identities away from Swynford. I assume you and my brother are then going to meet publicly, fall in love, and elope.”

  “It seems the simplest way,” admitted Anne.

  He smiled, “Does anyone know by which roads they’re traveling?”

  “Amanda would know, but I am quite sure they’ll be staying at the Brindled Cow in Shrewsbury the night before they get home.”

  “Then Jon and I will switch identities in Shrewsbury,” said Jared. “Tell me, how did my wife travel to St. Petersburg?”

  “You need have no fear, Jared. Miranda traveled on Dream Witch.”

  “Good! My captain’s a sensible man who’ll take good care of her. She’ll get to St. Petersburg, find out I’ve returned home, and come back to England.”

  “How did you get home?” queried Anne.

  Jared grinned. “Well,” he said, “as you’ve undoubtedly heard, Napoleon’s retreat from Moscow was a disaster. He kept waiting there for Alexander to offer him terms of surrender, and Alexander kept waiting in St. Petersburg for Napoleon to go away. The French, of course, delayed too long and got themselves caught in a particularly bad Russian winter. Not the most ideal conditions for a retreat. Still, the Tzar worried that the French might return. It wasn’t until this past June that he was convinced that he and St. Petersburg were safe. It was then that I was finally released. As compensation for my incarceration I was sent along with two shiploads of the finest Baltic timber and timbermasts. One ship was to go to my father’s yards in Plymouth, the other was to be a gift to Lord Palmerston. The English Ambassador in St. Petersburg, however, let slip how badly things were between the United States and England, so I had the ship originally bound for England drop me off on the English coast near Welland Beach, and then I sent it along with its sister across the Atlantic to Massachusetts. I feel Lord Palmerston owes me that gift of wood, and now that I hear how badly he handled Miranda’s anxieties I feel entirely justified.”

  Anne nodded. “You can be proud of her, Jared. She has been very brave, but it was finally just too much for her. As I am now your brother’s wife, I cannot say I blame her. You Dunhams have a way of binding your ladies to you.” She stood up. “I think, sir, that it might be a good time to see your son.”

  “I have not kissed the bride yet,” he said as he rose, towering over her. Anne froze, but Jared bent and gently brushed her mouth with his. “Welcome to the family, Anne,” he said. “I suspect you are going to be a valuable asset.”

  “Th-thank you,” she stammered. She felt very foolish, but he did look so much like Jon.

  Jared chuckled. “I wonder,” he remarked mischievously, “if Miranda had the same problem.”

  Anne had to laugh. “What a villain you are, Jared Dunham! I suspect you are a naughty little boy at heart. Come along now to the nursery and see Master Thomas.”

  He steeled himself. He had to remember that the nursery staff would be present, and as far as they were concerned Lord Dunham had seen his son a hundred times. But Amanda, recovered from her emotions, had thoughtfully dismissed the staff and was alone with the two babies. She held up a tiny blond and blue-eyed cherub with a fat face whose rosebud mouth was now blowing bubbles. “This is my Neddie, Jared. Is he not perfection?”

  Anne laughed softly. Dear, sometimes silly Amanda. Hurrying across the room to a lace-draped cradle, she tenderly lifted out another child. “Here is your son, Jared,” she said.

  He came slowly across the nursery, his eyes rapt on the baby. Wordlessly he took the boy from her, and his eyes devoured the child, the thistle-soft black hair, the eyes that he could see were going to be green. The infant had Miranda’s rose and cream coloring, but otherwise it was like looking in a mirror. “Hello, young Tom,” he said softly. “I am your papa, and I must say on first sight you seem to be everything I would want in a son.” The baby stared unsmiling at his father. Recognizing the expression as his own, Jared grinned delightedly and extended a finger, which the baby eagerly grasped. “He’s certainly a big strong fellow compared to Amanda’s boy,” remarked Jared.

  “He is two months older,” replied Anne. “Your Tom is three and a half months old; Neddie is but six weeks. Still, I believe this young gentleman is going to be every bit as big as his papa.”

  “Do you know what this is like for me?” Jared said softly. “I never even knew she was with child. I have lost almost a year of my married life, and for what? I will never know the joy other men experience upon learning that they are to be fathers for the first time. I have never seen her full with my child. I have thrown these pleasures wantonly aside to play at a game of war.” He cradled the child in the crook of his arm. “Ah, my son, I ask your pardon. Now if I may ask it of your mother, perhaps I will be able to redeem myself somewhat.”

  Anne put a comforting hand on her brother-in-law’s arm. “You have not played at war,” she said gently. “You have but attempted to make peace, and I was always taught, Jared, that blessed are the peacemakers.”

  He handed her the
baby, and said intensely, “If my brother doesn’t treat you like the queen you are, I shall personally throttle him.” Then he stomped from the room.

  “Gracious,” said Anne, somewhat taken aback, “what a fierce man he is.”

  Amanda looked up from tucking Neddie back into his cradle. “They are both like that,” she said, “and when you see Miranda and Jared together there is something about them—an aura … a power—as if together they could do anything.”

  “And apart?” asked Anne.

  Amanda sighed. “Together,” she said, “they can be dangerous, but apart they tend to be destructive, and that destruction is usually directed toward themselves. They become ingrown, and secretive. I only hope Miranda hurries back from St. Petersburg.”

  Jared fussed restlessly about Swynford Hall for the next few days, riding recklessly about the estate on a big black stallion that Adrian had bought for stud, visiting Anne and her children at their cottage, playing with his baby son. Finally word of Jonathan and Adrian came early one afternoon. He packed some of Jonathan’s distinctly American clothes in a saddlebag and rode off to the Brindled Cow in Shrewsbury. The trip took him several hours, and when he finally arrived in early evening he was pleased to see that the inn was a well-run prosperous-looking establishment. The rambling two-story half-timbered building probably dated back to the Elizabethan period, Jared thought, noting the charming diamond-paned casement windows with their red window boxes full of bright summer flowers. In fact there were flowers everywhere about the Brindled Cow, and there was a garden scented with lemon verbena and sweet lavender.

  As he rode into the inn yard a stableboy hurried up to take the horse. “Staying the night, sir?”

  Jared nodded and flipped the boy a silver penny. “His name is Ebony, and he’s a bit high-strung, but a good fellow and not at all vicious. Walk him well before you water him, lad.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Has Lord Swynford arrived yet?”

  “Yes, sir; ’bout an hour ago.”

  Jared hurried into the inn and was shown to a private room. He instructed the landlord to show Jonathan and Adrian to the room when they came downstairs to dine. Soon the door opened, and Adrian and Jonathan entered the room, chatting amiably. They stopped short, and then Adrian said, “I beg your pardon, sir, but this room is already taken. There must be some mistake.”

  “No mistake,” replied Jared, turning to face the two men. “Hello, brother Jonathan.”

  “Jared!” Jonathan’s face registered surprise and delight. “God, man! It’s good to see you! Thank heavens you’re safely home.”

  “Yes, I understand your joy quite well, Jon,” remarked Jared wryly. “I have met Mistress Anne. She is, of course, far better than you deserve.”

  The two men hugged warmly while Adrian Swynford glanced from one to the other, a look of total confusion on his handsome face. When they finally took notice of him, the two brothers laughed, and Jared pressed his sherry glass into young Lord Swynford’s hand. “No, Adrian,” he said, “you’ve not gone mad. The gentleman you’ve been entertaining these last months is my older brother, Jonathan. I have only just returned from Russia a few days ago.”

  Adrian Swynford gulped the sherry down. “Well, damme if I ain’t totally confused. You mean you’ve been in Russia almost a year?”

  “Yes,” smiled Jared.

  “Then when you came back early last winter it wasn’t you?”

  “No, it was Jon who took my place so it would not be known that I was gone.”

  Adrian flushed. “Did Miranda know?” he said.

  “Indeed she did!” said Jonathan quickly, and Lord Dunham forced back a chuckle. “I’ll bet you got a warm welcome from your wife, eh, Jared!”

  “No, Jon, I did not. My wife, it seems, waited until you and Adrian were safely out of the way. Then she hied herself off to St. Petersburg to bring me home. It was my bad fortune that I left St. Petersburg the very same day Miranda left Swynford. I expect, however, that having found me already gone from Russia, Miranda turned around and is now on her way home. I think she’ll reach England sometime between the sixth and eighth of August. At any rate I’ll be at Welland Beach to greet her. I always seem to be waiting for Miranda to come home from the sea,” he chuckled. “I don’t imagine, Jon, that you want to wait with me.”

  “No, thank you, m’lord Dunham. I am very happy to have my own identity back. The quicker Anne and I can have a public courtship, the quicker our marriage can be announced. You do understand, Jared?”

  “Yes, Jon.”

  “Anne?” queried a totally confused Adrian. “Who is Anne?”

  “Mistress Anne Bowen.”

  “The vicar’s daughter? Do you know her?”

  “Quite well, Adrian. In fact we were married a month ago by a special license. Since, however, Jonathan Dunham was not officially in England a month ago, let alone personally acquainted with Mistress Anne Bowen, we must begin at the beginning for public observation.”

  At that moment Captain Ephraim Snow was ushering into the main salon of the Dream Witch the English Ambassador’s secretary, Mr. Morgan, and an official in the Tzar’s police. “Brandy, gentlemen?” Both men nodded. Captain Snow filled the snifters full, and passed them around. “Well,” he said, “what word do you have for me? Have you found her?”

  “Possibly,” replied Mr. Morgan, “but the news, Captain, is not good.” Reaching into his pocket, he drew out something and proffered it. “Do you recognize this, Captain?” he asked.

  Shocked, Ephraim Snow stared at Miranda’s wedding band. There was simply no mistaking the delicate rose-gold band with its tiny diamond-chip stars. Still, he had to be sure, and so he took the ring from Mr. Morgan’s hand. Inside it was engraved. Jared to Miranda December 6, 1812. “It is her ring,” he breathed. “No doubt about it.”

  Mr. Morgan turned to the burly police official. “This is Nicolai Ivanovich, Captain. He speaks quite good English, and he has questions for you.”

  “Please,” the Russian said, reaching into a small leather bag at his side and drawing out a garment, “you recognize this?”

  Horrified, Ephraim Snow took the sodden, discolored garment from the man. It was the green-and-white-striped muslin dress Miranda had been wearing several days earlier when she had disappeared. He had had enough suspense, and he was no fool. The news was bad and he wanted it now. “Tell me the truth, Nicolai Ivanovich,” he said.

  The Russian looked at him sadly. “One more question, Captain. Is your mistress a blond lady?” Ephraim Snow nodded. “Then our identification is complete. The body of a blond woman wearing this garment and this ring was pulled from the Neva this morning. Lady Dunham, I regret to tell you, is dead. The unfortunate victim, obviously, of robbery. Was she wearing any other jewelry at the time she left?”

  “Yes, yes, of course! She had diamond and pearl earbobs on, and a gold bracelet, her cameo brooch with the diamond, and at least two other rings. I’m not certain what pieces they were, but I am sure she was wearing jewelry.”

  “There, Mr. Mogan, I thought so!” said Nicolai Ivanovich with grim satisfaction.

  “No,” snapped Captain Snow, “it ain’t simple at all! How the hell do you explain that coach that came for her?”

  “I can’t,” said the policeman, “but obviously someone saw her and her jewelry, and made it their business to find out that she was a foreigner, deduced how best to lure her away, and did. This is a painfully unpleasant incident, Captain, but I can only offer the most abject apologies of my government to you.”

  Ephraim Snow had dealt with Russians before. They were an obdurate people. They had stated their position on the matter, and not even an act of God would force them to change their mind. Tightlipped, he asked, “May I see the body?”

  “I’m afraid not,” came the answer. “We were forced to bury it quite quickly, Captain. It had been in the water several days, and was horribly bloated. Then, too, portions of it, including the face, were eaten away by
the fish. We tentatively identified it, and buried it in the English cemetery. I brought the ring and the dress so we might have final identification.”

  Sickened, Ephraim Snow nodded his understanding. “Jesus Christ! How am I going to tell this to Master Jared? My God, what kind of animal would murder such a beautiful woman?”

  “The Tzar’s government is deeply distressed by this incident, Captain Snow,” said Nicolai Ivanovich sympathetically.

  “Perhaps we had best go now, Nicolai Ivanovich,” said Mr. Morgan gently.

  “Da! You are right!”

  Ephraim Snow called out to them as they reached the door. “I want to up anchor right now. Will you see I ain’t stopped, Nicolai Ivanovich?”

  “Da, my friend, and go in safety with the God who watches over all of us.”

  On August tenth, Dream Witch arrived back at the village of Welland Beach on the English coast. She had encountered heavy seas almost from the moment she had left St. Petersburg, and until she got into the North Sea it had been slow going. For some reason Captain Snow was not surprised to see a familiar figure waiting on the stone quay as he brought the yacht into the safety of her dockage. He sighed, and took a quick swig of black Jamaican rum from the flask in his pocket. It didn’t help. Dream Witch was made fast, and Jared Dunham came briskly aboard.

  “Hey there, Eph, you’re two days later than I thought you’d be! Where’s that wildcat wife of mine?”