My Earl the Spy

by Audrey Harrison

  Luckily, it was only a few minutes before the doctor arrived and was escorted to the bedchamber. Clara moved forward to greet the doctor at the same time as Edmund approached Henry.

  “Come, Grinstead. Let’s get you cleaned up while Miss Holland is being attended to; there’s nothing we can do at the moment.”

  “I want to stay,” Henry said quietly.

  “I know, but she needs to be examined. We shall return.”

  Edmund led Henry through the adjoining door to his own bedchamber and dressing room. His staff had acted quickly based on what they had seen and a hot bath was already prepared in Edmund’s dressing room.

  “I’ll leave you to bathe. My valet will sort out some replacement clothes; from the look of you I doubt those rags you are standing in will survive a wash. I need to change; there was a lot of blood,” Edmund said. His tone now was more of an older brother than the commander it had been when in the warehouse.

  Henry nodded, and a footman helped him with his toilette. He went through the procedure automatically without really comprehending what was happening. When he stood in front of a mirror with borrowed clothes, he saw for the first time how ghastly he looked.

  Dark rings were visible under his eyes; the rest of his face was a deathly white in the gaps that were not covered with purple, black and yellow bruises. He had been shaved, but it did not make him look or feel any better.

  He had felt dead inside when Mabel died. It had changed a carefree young man into a bitter being, albeit the bitterness was hidden from the rest of society. He had learned to be charming and sociable while being detached. It had enabled him to take risks because he cared about no one, especially himself. That had brought him to the attention of the people looking to persuade some members of the aristocracy that spying was not the contemptible role that it was considered.

  Henry had eagerly taken on the role, the danger and deceit being attractive to someone who held society in disdain. When he had started to work with Edmund, he had appreciated the other man’s equally dark outlook on life, but then Edmund had met Clara and been smitten.

  Henry had thought him a fool, so it was ironic, then, that at the same time he was himself falling in love with the quiet, elegant, pretty Miss Holland.

  In true Henry fashion he had put her at risk just as he had with every other person who could be useful to him. It was his just desserts that she would be taken from him in this way. He put his hands on his hips and breathed slowly in and out. He could so easily lose control at the thought of losing her.

  Edmund tapped on the door of the dressing room and entered. “The doctor has spoken to me of his findings.”

  “And?”

  “She’s been very lucky. The bullet entered her body below the rib cage and passed straight through. We would find it embedded in the wall of the room if we were to go back,” Edmund said, his tone positive.

  “Is she conscious?” Henry asked.

  “Not at the moment, but Clara said she did regain consciousness for a short time while the doctor was examining her.”

  “If the bullet isn’t lodged inside, why is she not awake?”

  “Have some sympathy! She’s been shot! Whether the bullet is still there or not, she still experienced a trauma,” Edmund almost laughed at Henry’s unrealistic expectations.

  “Thank God for your poor marksmanship,” Henry said, almost able to smile.

  “I will be thankful for that until my dying day,” Edmund said seriously as he led the way out of the room.

  Chapter 19

  Milly’s bloodstained clothes had been removed, and she was now lying under the covers dressed in one of her cousin’s nightgowns. She had been cleaned as much as was possible on a bed, Clara being concerned at the level of grime that was attached to Milly’s body.

  Henry stood at the bottom of the bed. “She looks so small.”

  “Yes, but she has a strong constitution,” Clara said gently.

  “Maybe, but she’s had a hard time of it recently,” Henry responded, remembering their conversation about sweet items.

  “The doctor is afraid of a fever, but the bullet wound itself shouldn’t cause any long-lasting damage.”

  “Can I stay?” Henry asked, all bravado gone.

  “She will be looked after well,” Clara said gently. The sick room was not the place for a man; they had little patience when so confined.

  “She looked after me. I promised I’d look after her. I’ve not done a very good job of it so far,” Henry said, his eyes never leaving Milly’s sleeping form.

  “My Lord, I will care for her. She is very dear to me,” Clara said softly.

  “And to me.”

  *

  Henry was eventually persuaded against his will to leave the house and return home. He had not told Milly’s family of what had gone on between them in Farnham or that Milly had intended taking up a position of companion in Ireland ̶ something he presumed she had missed the opportunity of securing by the amount of time that had passed since they had spoken of it. It was not for him to divulge her secrets.

  Sitting in his study, he drank one glass of wine after another, trying to deaden his feelings, but no amount of alcohol seemed to work.

  He looked up in surprise when the study door opened; he had expressly instructed that he was not to be disturbed under any circumstances; he groaned to see Mack’s form appear, closing the door behind him.

  “I’d thought you’d be long gone by now,” Henry muttered.

  “I’ve two reasons for stopping by,” Mack said, sitting without invitation.

  “Go on, surprise me!”

  “I wanted to find out how the Miss was,” Mack said. He had become found of the young woman, admiring her stoic spirit.

  “Alive, but not conscious.”

  “I owe her my life,” Mack said seriously.

  “You and me both in our different ways,” Henry acknowledged.

  “I hope she recovers soon.”

  “As do I.”

  “I thought there was something between you.”

  “If you could call refusing my marriage proposal something between us, I suppose you’re right,” Henry said with a shrug.

  Mack smiled. “So, you’ve met someone brave enough to stand up to you. She’d be perfect for you; too many society misses would pander to your arrogance.”

  “Thank you for that shining recommendation,” Henry said drily. “Now what was the other reason you wanted to speak to me?”

  “I’ve been ordered to visit,” Mack said looking a little uncomfortable.

  “Go on.”

  “You’ve upset quite a few people in killing Joshua.”

  “Forgive me if I couldn’t give a damn.”

  “They could. I’ve been told to tell you that your services are no longer required. If you try to interfere with the work of the Office, they’ll come down on you hard.”

  “Is that a threat, Mack?” Henry asked, with an expression of incredulity.

  “I think it will be if you don’t walk away quietly,” Mack replied honestly. He was not about to explain the language that had been used when he had reported the day’s events to the men in the Home Office. Henry had been cursed to hell and back. Some were keen to have him made an example of but, for not for the first time, his title gave him protection. Getting rid of a peer would give the opportunity of those wanting a revolution the chance to claim his death as a victory against the establishment.

  “I’d like you to take a message back from me,” Henry said angrily.

  “Is that wise?”

  “Probably not, but as usual I don’t care,” Henry responded with derision. “I have written down everything that I have been involved with over the years. Every operation I have known anything about, I have made notes on. So every moment of my work, I have recorded. I often wondered what would happen if I did something they didn’t like; I never considered it would be the death of Shambles. Why they don’t realise I’ve done the country a good deed,
I’ll never know.”

  “You were told he was important,” Mack said reasonably.

  “And they should understand that sometimes they can’t control everything. I’ve lodged my memoirs with someone and, before they think of paying a visit to my solicitor or Lord Chertsey, I’m not so predictable. If anything happens to me, any of my future family members or Miss Holland, for as long as she has breath in her body, those memoirs will be published in full in so many printing houses that it would be impossible to prevent at least some copies getting out. Once they’re out in the public domain, I don’t need to stress that there would be backlash as a result, particularly from the highest levels of our society. I’m sure some of our Dukes and Duchesses would be greatly annoyed to find how they’ve been manipulated and used.”

  “I didn’t think you’d accept their threat without having something to say about it. You’ve planned well.” Mack knew Henry’s faults, but he liked the young Earl, he had spirit.

  “I’m no fool, and I dislike being considered as one. They underestimate who they work with,” Henry responded. His argument was not with Mack, especially as in some ways he had looked after Milly. Henry was realistic enough to accept that Milly’s spell in her prison could have been a lot worse.

  “They won’t risk exposure.”

  “If they leave me alone, I’ll leave them alone. There is nothing else to say; they’ll be glad to see the back of me, and I’m not sorry to see that chapter closed.”

  Mack stood. “I wish you well even though you’ve made my job harder. I do understand why you wanted to kill Shambles; I didn’t at the start.”

  “I knew I was going to kill him a long time before I joined the Home Office,” Henry said. “They just gave me the opportunity to have resources to target him.”

  “Yes, something which hasn’t escaped their notice,” Mack said with a small smile. “Goodbye, Grinstead; I hope your lady recovers.”

  “Good luck, Mack,” Henry said, standing and shaking the offered hand. He watched Mack leave the room before refilling his glass. He had no doubt that Mack would find out who was leading the opposition in support of the French; the man had a way of getting to the heart of the matter.

  Henry sighed and sat at his desk. He had not written what he had said, but he was going to have to now. Just in case those in the Home Office did not take him seriously, he had to protect his family, his future family if he could ever persuade Milly to marry him.

  He started to write; it was going to be a long night.

  *

  Clara had stayed by Milly’s bedside for most of the three days she had been in a fever. They had tried everything; bleeding, cooling, and lots of laudanum. Milly had hardly responded to anything. Her wound was a fiery red, the skin hot to the touch. Clara had refrained from writing to Mrs Holland; she was fully aware of the relationship that Milly shared with her mother and, if pushed, Clara would have admitted that she could not face dealing with her aunt whilst her cousin was so sick.

  She had sent a note each morning to Henry. She had read the note he had sent to Edmund before trying to find Milly; it showed a man who was desperate to find a woman for whom he cared deeply. Each day Henry sent fresh flowers and some form of sweet treat but did not appear at the house himself.

  Clara wondered, now the danger had been removed that had linked Henry and Milly together, whether he was losing interest. So it was with curiosity that she descended the stairs on the fourth day when she was told that Henry had arrived and asked to see her.

  He was waiting in the small morning room, standing at the window, looking anything but relaxed.

  “Good afternoon, My Lord,” Clara said pleasantly, crossing the room before curtseying to Henry’s bow.

  “Good afternoon, My Lady,” Henry responded.

  The greeting gave Clara enough of an opportunity to take in Henry’s appearance. He was looking decidedly ill, his eyes almost sunken, his skin colour looking sallow.

  “Miss Holland?” Henry asked.

  “The same, I’m afraid. The doctor is suggesting moving her to some sort of nursing home if she doesn’t regain consciousness soon,” Clara explained.

  Henry seemed to sag at the words. “I’m losing her all over again.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Henry sighed; there was no longer the wish to keep his personal life away from those around him; the last few days had been hell. He was in no fit state to play games with words, which had once been his forte.

  “I’d asked her to marry me when I visited her in Farnham. I saw how things were with that buffoon who’d thrown her over when there was no money forthcoming; added to that, he caught us kissing; so I proposed to your cousin.”

  “She never wrote to me about it,” Clara responded in some surprise.

  “No, she must have decided it wasn’t important enough; you see, she turned me down. She was intent on throwing her life away on some position as a companion in Ireland! I couldn’t talk her out of it; neither could her friend; she was as bloody minded as I am!”

  Clara suppressed the smile at Henry’s words; she could see he was not ready to see humour in any situation at the moment. “Go on.”

  “But in the days in the cell, I thought she had feelings for me. I thought she’d been more inclined to consider me an eligible match, but it seems I am losing her again.”

  “I presumed that once you’d returned home, you would forget about what had gone on. I had seen that you had some feeling for her when you first returned her home. I assumed it had worn off by now,” Clara said honestly.

  “Do you think I’m so callous? I suppose my previous behaviour has not had anything in it to recommend it, so I can see you would have believed me to be capable of that.”

  “I’m sorry if it seems harsh.”

  “You’ve nothing to be sorry about. For years, I’ve had a lump of ice where everyone else has a heart. Your low opinion of me is well deserved,” Henry acknowledged.

  “My cousin is a far better judge of character than I am,” Clara acknowledged. “She knew that there was something amiss with Lord Chertsey, while I was smitten,” she said with a small smile. “She was also quick to notice the change in him. If she had feelings for you, I’m convinced you deserved her regard.”

  “Can I see her?”

  “Nothing has changed since your last visit,” Clara said gently.

  “I need to see her. I feel as if I’m actually fading away without having her near me. Does it make sense to say even though we were locked away, I enjoyed my time with her?” Henry tried to explain.

  Clara realised that this usually confident man had fallen deeply in love with her cousin. She was not convinced he realised what had happened to him, but she was sure it had happened. Her heart ached for his suffering, which would only increase if Milly did not recover. She made a decision; she would not be the one to keep them apart.

  “Follow me, My Lord. You are welcome to stay with Milly for as long as you wish.”

  Chapter 20

  There was a change in Milly; Henry saw it immediately. She looked far more fragile than she had on that first day. Her skin was almost translucent. He could have wailed at the sight of her; if he had held any hope that she might recover, it had been dashed the moment he entered the room.

  Clara saw the pain in Henry’s eyes and gently touched his arm. “Sit with her; talk to her. I will leave you alone, but ring the bell if you need any help at all. You won’t be disturbed otherwise.”

  Henry nodded unable to speak and only after the door had closed behind Clara, did he move to the side of the bed. Sitting on a vacant seat, he pulled back the bed cover and reached for Milly’s hand. It was stone cold.

  Henry moved to sit on the edge of the bed and started to gently rub the hand to warm it. Clara had said that Milly had a fever, but she was so cold he didn’t understand how she could be feverish. But if she was not, he had no idea what was wrong.

  Rubbing and massaging the skin, he started to
talk quietly, feeling foolish at first, but his need to make her better drove him on.

  “Now then, Miss Holland, I expected you to be running around by now,” he started. “Causing all this fuss over a little gunshot. I never had you down for one who enjoyed the dramatics. Goodness knows what your future employer will think of this lax behaviour.”

  Henry paused, to swap hands, tucking the now slightly warmer limb back under the covers. “I thought of writing to your friend and asking her to contact your employer and explain what had happened, but then I remembered that I hadn’t wanted you to go, so why should I help your cause? I want you to stay with me, Milly; never forget that.”

  Henry kept talking until his mouth was dry and he had run out of words. He looked at the still figure and made a decision. “Milly, if you object, now is the time to raise it otherwise I shall take your silence as agreement. You see, my sweetheart, I’ve missed you so much these last few days, and I need to be close to you.”

  He discarded his frock coat and waistcoat and took off his boots. Climbing under the covers with her, he tried to hold her as he had when they had slept together in the prison. Since returning home he had not had a good night’s sleep, unable to find comfort without the feel of his Milly by his side. Moving her was done slowly and with care until Henry was wrapped around her body once more, protecting her and comforting himself.

  He lay his head on her hair and kissed her head gently. “Come back to me, Milly. Please don’t leave me; life is too bleak without you by my side.”

  *

  There was a sound that she could not place, ̶ a noise that was disturbing yet comforting at the same time. She tried to ignore it, but it would not go away. In a way she longed for it; at the same time she wanted to swipe her hand to rid herself of the nuisance.

  Everything was black and hot. It had been so hot for such a long time now that she no longer fought against it; it was easier to let it wash over her. The thought of the blackness was no longer frightening; until the buzzing started she had been content to let the darkness take her for good. Now though, now it seemed oppressive.