Smoke & Lies

by Andrea Penrose

Pierson shrugged. “Perhaps. But it’s not my job to muse about abstractions.”

  “Nor mine,” cut in Hamilton. “Our envoy in London has apparently been collaborating with Lord Grentham for some time in trying to learn Napoleon's intentions—and stop any attempt to throw the Continent into chaos. I was dispatched to visit Elba, with orders that I might have a passenger to pick up in Tenerife and take with me.”

  “Grentham was suspicious of a conspiracy within the Foreign Office, and was aware that you might have trouble aboard Basilisk,” added Pierson. “So along with my orders to join Hamilton's ship and head here, I received last-minute word to keep a watch out for Holden's ship in an area known for being a haunt of Barbary pirates. The idea was for us to fall in with Holden's ship and offer escort, as Hamilton's frigate was so well-armed. He could hardly have refused.”

  “That we actually prevented the attack was a stroke of luck,” said Hamilton.

  Arianna suspected he was being modest. She knew he was a superb seaman and navigator.

  “And yet, for all Grentham’s careful logic and strategic maneuverings,” muttered the earl, “I fear the enemy has stayed one step ahead of him.”

  “I still have questions,” she began. “Beginning with Holden, Mr. Pierson. Did you—”

  “No,” he growled. “I assume he was acting for the consortium and somehow had a falling-out with them.” His shoulders twitched in impatience. “However, I suggest we leave off parsing the past. All the details of how and why we all came to be here can be explained later. Right now we need to focus on whether we can scuttle the emperor’s plans. I’ve got forged letters of introduction, which have given me entrée to Monsieur Ballencourt, who I suspect of being one of the leaders of the merchant consortium. However, I must act very carefully, so as not to stir any suspicions.”

  He tapped his fingertips together—a gesture that mimicked the minister when the wheels of intrigue were spinning inside his head.

  “I’ve learned that there has been frequent clandestine travel between France and the town of Viticcio, which is just an hour by horse from here,” offered Saybrook. “I was intending on paying a visit there tomorrow—or rather later today. I have the name of someone who may be willing to talk about what’s been seen and heard by the locals.”

  Tap, tap. “I’ve heard the same thing about Viticcio.” Pierson frowned in thought. “Perhaps . . .” Tap, tap.

  “Perhaps it would be wise for us to join forces, and have a look around” suggested the earl. “I could say I’ve arranged a trip to collect plant specimens. That will allow me to be absent for a few days without raising any questions.”

  Pierson nodded.

  “And I can put some pressure on the baroness,” said Arianna. She explained to the others about the boy Johannes. “I have a sense she’s been asked to do something important to help with Napoleon’s plan. We need to know what that is.” A pause. “And we need to break the hold they have over her. It’s unforgivable that a child is used as a pawn in this dirty business.”

  “Unfortunately, there’s no room for sentiment to interfere with our mission. I don’t wish any harm to come to the boy. However . . .” Pierson’s shrug was more expressive than any words.

  He then rose and engaged the earl in a terse exchange over logistics and timing of their mission. After setting a time and place to meet, he turned to take his leave. “I suggest we all get some sleep. We’ll need our wits about us in the coming days.” He put on his hat and tugged down the brim. “Not to speak of the Devil’s own luck.”

  * * *

  The Devil, mused Arianna a day later, wasn’t feeling inclined to dole out favors. Saybrook and Pierson had not yet returned from Vitticcio, and the baroness had proved adept at avoiding any opportunity for private conversation.

  Rumors were rife, as were suspicious activities—soldiers were stockpiling food and supplies down by the harbor, but word was they were merely to load aboard the emperor’s ship Inconstant for one of the frequent building expeditions to other parts of the island.

  A plausible explanation, impossible to discredit.

  She paused in her morning walk along the quays to watch a half dozen Imperial Guards carrying sacks of grain into one of the warehouses . . .

  “Good day, Lady Saybrook.” Hamilton emerged from one of the harborside taverns and came over to join her. “Any further word from your husband?” he murmured, as he inclined a polite bow over her hand.

  “A note arrived this morning, saying they will be returning this afternoon, but I’ve no idea if they’ve discovered anything useful,” she replied. “Any fresh gossip among the local fishermen or sailors from the visiting merchant ships?”

  “Just the same vague sentiments that something is brewing,” he replied.

  Arianna let out a frustrated sigh. Even chocolate had failed to loosen the emperor’s tongue. “I’ve stuffed Napoleon with sweets over the past few days, and still haven’t been able to coax any indiscretion out of him.”

  “Don’t let his unprepossessing looks fool you. He’s a master military strategist, known for keeping his opponents off balance through feints and diversions.” Hamilton made a face. “He’s peppered me with questions about President Madison and politics and life in our cities, but is clever at deflecting any probing I do.” At the evening soirees, the captain had become a great favorite of the emperor, who was very curious about life in America.

  “So I’ve had no luck either,” he added.

  Luck. The word rubbed raw against her nerves.

  “The only hint that the moment may be nearing is the fact that he began pressing me about how long I planned to remain in Elba.”

  “What did you reply?”

  “That my orders were meet our representative from the Congress of Vienna here, as he wishes to pay his respects to the emperor before heading back to America.”

  “Your nation has remained neutral in the fight against him, so he shouldn’t see your ship as a threat,” she pointed out.

  “Napoleon’s supporters have their own network of spies, so they may have heard that my government is not in favor of renewed hostilities in Europe,” answered Hamilton. “I’m sure the fact is not lost on the emperor that my frigate could blow any of his vessels to Kingdom Come.”

  Arianna glanced at American warship tied to one of the outer quays. “Would your orders allow you to do that?” she asked softly.

  “I hope I’m not called upon to make that interpretation.”

  “As do I.”

  Throughout his time on Elba, Napoleon had worried about the threat of assassination. A single bullet, a single blade . . . a drop of poison. She shoved the thought aside, giving thanks that unlike Grentham, she didn’t have to wrestle with such moral imperatives on a daily basis.

  “I wonder when Campbell will return? He knows trouble is brewing, so it seems odd that he would linger in Italy.”

  Hamilton didn’t answer. His attention seemed drawn to a sudden movement aboard Basilisk.

  “A pleasant morning for a stroll, is it not?” Merriweather appeared at the top of dispatch ship’s gangplank and cocked a friendly salute. “Might I come walk with you for a bit?”

  “Yes, of course,” answered Arianna, though her thoughts were elsewhere.

  “Excellent!”

  “When do you depart, sir?” she asked as Merriweather fell in step beside them.

  “That depends on Campbell’s return.” A pause. “And on certain other orders I’m waiting receive, which I’m not at liberty to discuss.”

  Was Merriweather another part of Grentham’s intricate weavings? She was tempted to ask him . . .

  “Actually, I have an ulterior motive for joining you,” he announced. “Unlike you, Lady Saybrook, I’ve not had the pleasure of being aboard an American warship. Professional curiosity compels me to ask—might I be granted a tour, Captain Hamilton?”

  “I don’t see why not,” replied Hamilton. “Would you like to do so now?”

  Merriwe
ather flashed a smile. “Very much so. That is, if I’m not inconveniencing you, milady?”

  “No, no.” Up ahead a flutter of amber silk had just caught her eye. Arianna gave a quick wave and hurried to follow the baroness, who had just passed through the Water Gate.

  On reaching the archway, she saw Jelena quicken her pace and turn down the road leading out of town. The smell of fear seemed to trail in her wake, curdling the sunwarmed scents of rosemary and pine. Giving thanks she had chosen a forest green cloak for her morning walk, Arianna cut across to a footpath that wound through the trees skirting the road’s edge.

  The baroness appeared intent on speed, not stealth. She didn’t bother looking around as she turned up a rutted cart path and began the climb up to a sliver of pastureland set among the rocky hills.

  Hugging close to the pines, Arianna kept her quarry in view. It was no surprise that when Jelena reached the edge of the field, the golden-haired boy and his grim-faced guardian slipped out from the shadows to join her.

  The baroness dropped to her knees and gathered the child in her arms.

  As the man shifted impatiently, Arianna crept closer.

  “Enough of your fussing,” he snapped. Taking the boy by the arm, he pulled him free and pushed him toward an outcropping of rock. “Wait over there.”

  Jelena rose, her hands clenching into fists.

  “You wish to commit murder?” Grim-Face gave a nasty laugh. “Excellent. For that’s the only way you have a prayer of being reunited with your precious brat.”

  The words were just audible above the rustling of the branches in the breeze.

  “Why?” rasped Jelena. “Why must von Regenhilde die?” The Austrian envoy had been serving as an observer on Elba for the last six months and was about to return to Vienna. “He’s no threat anymore. You’ve won—the time is well past for him to stop the emperor’s plans.”

  “On the contrary, the war is just beginning,” countered Grim-Face. “Metternich listens to von Regenhilde’s advice, and as he’ll urge war rather than compromise, it’s to our benefit that he die.”

  “B-But what you ask will sign my death warrant with the British government,” she protested.

  “You have a choice. Do what we ask, and you'll get the boy back, as well as passage for both of you to safety in France.” He drew a knife from his boot and began to clean his nails. “Betray us, and you'll never see the brat again.”

  Jelena looked like she might be ill. “You’re a monster,” she said, once she had recovered her breath.

  Quick as a snake, the blade flicked out and pricked the tip of her chin. “Watch your tongue. Or I’ll give you back your precious child minus his cods.”

  A gasp, which quickly gave way to a shaky silence.

  “That's better.” After returning the knife to its sheath, he reached into his coat and withdrew a small packet. ““You need not sully your hands with any gore. Simply empty this powder into von Regenhilde's wine, and you will have fulfilled your end of the bargain.”

  The baroness accepted it with trembling hands.

  Grim-Face wasted no further words on her. A short whistle summoned Johannes, and after allowing Jelena brush a kiss to boy's brow, he gestured for her to be off.

  Arianna kept very still, watching . . . and waiting.

  The man lingered for several more minutes before setting out down the cart path. Halfway down, he veered off onto a footpath that wound up the wooded slope toward the fort. The trees were thick enough to provide cover, and so she decided to risk following him.

  She quickly gathered a bouquet of wild rosemary and various weeds, confident she could buff her way out of trouble if spotted by nattering on about Saybrook’s interest in botany.

  Grim-Face's attention was on Johannes rather than the surroundings. The boy appeared in a petulant mood. He was dragging his feet, and as the way grew steeper, he began to cry.

  Exasperated, the man slapped him—hard enough to knock the breath from the boy’s lungs, then flung him over his shoulder and lengthened his stride.

  Only the most craven of cowards strikes a child, fumed Arianna, resolving to make him pay for such cruelty.

  The trees thinned as they came closer to the crest of the hill, revealing two levels of terracing below the outer walls of the fort. On each was a row of stuccoed houses, and a flagged pathway connected them to the stairs leading up from town.

  Grim-Face unlocked the end house on the top terrace, and disappeared inside.

  Arianna had seen enough. Already a plan was taking shape. Pierson would, of course, object to it. But pragmatism could only bend her principles so far.

  However, with a little luck, they could satisfy both demands.

  * * *

  “Thank God you’re back.” At the sound of the main door to their rooms clicking open, Arianna hurried into the parlor from the bedchamber. But her impatience to share all she had learned died when she saw Saybrook’s face.

  “Is there bad news about Eduardo?”

  His lips pinched in a rueful grimace. “Yes and no.”

  She waited for him to shrug out of his overcoat and run a hand through his wind-snarled hair.

  “Our inquiries—well-greased with gold, of course—coaxed the local residents of Viticcio to admit they are well aware of the illicit traffic between France and Elba,” he began after taking a seat in one of the armchairs by the hearth. “It's also an open secret that the men sailing back and forth are plotting to help the emperor retake the French throne.” A sigh. “They know Eduardo and say he was part of the conspiracy. Indeed, several swear they saw him in a group departing for France several weeks ago.”

  Damning facts. And yet, a note of uncertainty in his voice made her ask, “But you doubt them?”

  “As Pierson and I were riding out of town, a young woman crossed the road and beckoned us to follow her into a copse of trees. She was clearly nervous to be seen talking with us,” he replied. “But she recognized my name and felt compelled to tell me the truth—that Eduardo had, in fact, been gathering proof about the plot in order to expose it, and was taken by force across to France.”

  “Well, clearly someone is lying,” responded Arianna. “Perhaps if we question Captain Castillo more thoroughly, he’ll recall some telling clue,” she offered.

  Saybrook consider the suggestion. “I think not.”

  “You don’t trust him?”

  “For now, I’m not inclined to trust anyone.”

  “Secrets tangled in secrets,” murmured Arianna. “Speaking of which, I, too, have made a discovery . . .” She explained about Jelena and sketched out her thoughts on what to do about the situation.

  His expression remained neutral. “The two of us can’t attempt it on our own. We would need to convince Pierson and Hamilton.”

  “Leave that to me,” she replied. By a stroke of luck, Pierson had requested that the four of them rendezvous in a secluded spot near the city wall to assess the current situation. From there, they would split up proceed to the palace soiree on their own. “As you know, I can be very persuasive.”

  * * *

  “I don’t like it.” To his credit, Pierson let her finish before reacting. “It would give us away,” he added, “and threaten our primary mission.”

  “Not if the timing was right,” answered Arianna.

  “The timing would have to be perfect,” he retorted. “And in clandestine undertakings, that only happens on paper.”

  “And yet, that never stops any of us from undertaking them. It simply means that we must always be ready to improvise.”

  Realizing he had just been hoisted on his own petard, Pierson expelled a sharp exhale and tried again. “That may be, but we must also weigh the benefits against the dangers.”

  She crossed her arms, allowing silence to speak for her. Next to her, Saybrook shifted his stance, but he, too, said nothing.

  “I tell you, it’s too risky,” insisted Pierson.

  “Perhaps. But it’s the right thing
to do.”

  “Ye God,” muttered Hamilton. “Since when have you developed such a tender conscience?”

  Arianna didn’t blink.

  “During our voyage here, I got the sense that you and Saybrook neither liked nor trusted Lady Plessy-Moritz,” went on the captain. “And I, too, think that she’s an adventuress, a cold and calculating woman who is only looking out for herself. She doesn’t have a heart, or any scruples.”

  “On the contrary,” said Arianna. “I think the baroness has the most elemental loyalty of all—to family and loved ones. She’s been forced into an impossible situation. I . . .”

  She looked up at the night sky, her gaze finding the Big Dipper and following it to North Star. Polaris—a steadfast beacon for all those who had lost their way. “I understand what’s like to feel alone and angry and frightened, Captain Hamilton. I, too, made unwise decisions under such circumstance.” Even more softly, she added, “and acted poorly towards friends who deserved better.”

  A spasm of surprise flitted over his face.

  “I think we can help the baroness,” she added, “without betraying our other responsibilities.”

  Hamilton shook his head in exasperation, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “I swear, you must drive your husband mad with your passions and your principles.”

  Arianna smiled and darted a look at Saybrook. “He expects no less.”

  “Indeed.” Despite the flitting shadows, the earl’s eyes came alight with a martial glint—and perhaps some other emotion as his gaze lingered on her for a heartbeat. “I agree with my wife. It’s the right thing to do.”

  In response, Pierson swore under his breath. The surrounding branches shivered in a swirl of the night air as he took a long moment to ponder her request.

  “If—and I repeat, if—we’re to undertake what you suggest and have a prayer of succeeding, we need to know more about the emperor’s plans.”

  “You’re right,” replied Arianna. “Which means we must redouble our efforts get some answers at tonight’s soiree.”

  Not to speak of stopping the baroness from ruining her chance of salvation before the plan could be set in motion.