Clarissa gave a snort of contempt. "Love, indeed. We women are fools for it. I wasn't always a tart, you know. Fell in with the wrong man, so I did. Next thing I knew, well--" She shook her head regretfully.
Gabrielle reached out to pat her forearm. "It wasn't your fault. It's not like you chose it as a profession. Circumstances drove you to it. And you've more than made up for it since. You just told me yourself, you avenged Molly, and are a mother to her siblings.
"Look, Clarissa, I know what a burden you must carry around with you, the guilt and feeling of being unworthy. But it's time to leave the past behind. No purpose is served in having all these regrets. I forgive you for what you did to my brother, and my sister would too.
"And I know you're a kind person, so all this talk of owing me is silly. You loved your friend, have taken on her family when most other people wouldn't have cared. I'm sure you're doing your best to keep all of them off the streets. I can't pretend I'm not shocked at you shooting Chauncey, but it's the past. no one can change it now. I wasn't blind to his faults and if he did what you said he did, if you're sure, if you're really sure, then you did the world a favor by ridding it of someone so depraved." She could hardly believe she was speaking of her own brother in that way, but she was no fool. The more her thoughts raced, the more it made a terrible sort of sense. Clarissa should not have taken matters into her own hands, but she had certainly solved the problem of Chauncey's criminal actions once and for all.
"It's the past, Clarissa," she repeated again, more firmly this time. The three of us and Simon and this little kitten are all I care about now."
"I'll go to the police if..."
She gripped her arm hard. "No! What point would there be? He's dead. He fell in the Gorge, cracked his skull open. Or jumped. After all, he was facing ruin. Many a man has committed suicide for less."
They stared at each other for a time, Clarissa in surprise, Gabrielle assessingly.
"You say my cousins know?" she asked after a time.
Clarissa nodded. "Yes, your brother was trying to kidnap Isolde in the Gorge, and when he saw he couldn't get away, he tried to kill her. He was trying to murder Randall for his title. He didn't know Michael was still alive."
Gabrielle digested this information in silence for a moment, then nodded. "Hmm, I suspected a fair bit of this from things he said and did, but thank you for the last pieces of the puzzle about his death. It explains why my cousins have always acted a bit stilted around me. It's not that they hold a grudge, it's that they've been keeping this secret. They probably feel guilty, or are trying to protect me."
Clarissa nodded, and looked relieved. "Just like me. I'm sorry if I acted, well, funny to you. I just felt guilty all the time. A lady like you should be having her London season, not consorting with whores and lags."
Gabrielle shifted to try to quell the trembling in her legs. "A job I'm very glad to have, just like I'm glad to know you. And to finally know the truth. I was aware that there was no love lost between my brother and Randall. After all, they were close in age, and Isolde was originally Chauncey's fiancee.
"Though it was actually more of a family match, from the time they were young," she added a moment later. "And from what I gathered also, my brother had told her the marriage was off as soon as her father lost his money and passed away. Chauncey took up with Fanny Clarence to try to marry her for her money next, but I'm pretty sure he wanted to manipulate Isolde into becoming his mistress."
"The blighter." She spat into the basin. "She be worth a hundred of him."
"Aye, that she is. Isolde had a lucky escape if all you tell me is true, and has had the best of good fortune to marry Randall. I always liked her. Liked her far more than my own brother, if the truth be told." She sighed heavily.
Clarissa nodded. "She's a good woman, always kind to me even after everything I've done, and a wonder with all those children they say are his little bast--"
Gabrielle shot her a quelling look. "No matter who their parents are, or what they've done, the children should never be blamed for it. So please don't use that word."
"Sorry, Miss."
"It's all right. It's a common enough speech habit. In any event, thank you for telling me the truth and making a clean breast of it. And in case you didn't know the whole tale, well, just consider that you finally brought a killer to justice at last."
"Oh?"
"Chauncey didn't just harm your friend. He also killed Randall's and Michael's younger brother years ago."
She looked stunned. "What?"
Gabrielle nodded grimly. "It's true, He made it look like a riding accident, and then murdered Randall's fiancee. They found her remains when Chauncey tried to kill Randall by setting fire to the stables and locking him inside."
"My God, what a way to die." She shook her head.
"Isolde saved him, and most of their prize stables, but it was a damned close thing by all accounts. But in the process, the body was uncovered, and they finally had proof that she never eloped from the district, Chauncey had strangled her."
Clarissa shook her head. "I've had no idea anyone could be so evil."
"Neither did I. Everything he did, he did for greed and lust, not for love."
"I see. Well, thank you for trying to make me feel better." She looked a bit doubtful, however, which prompted Gabrielle to say, "It's all true, I swear. Now it is all starting to make sense. I thought the Avenels acting oddly toward me was because of my brother's crimes. It was certainly reason enough. They've tried to be kind, but it can't have been easy for them. That's why I came to live with Antony. I didn't want to be a reminder of...." She sighed.
"I see."
"Thank you for telling me. I'm going to go back to Simon now," she said, getting to her feet.
"Is that all you're going to say?" Clarissa asked in surprise as she headed for the small hole.
She shrugged. "I suppose I could say thank you."
"Thank you?" she echoed, puzzled.
"Shooting him as though you were putting down a rabid dog was far better for all of us than having the whole of London watch him die upon the gallows."
Clarissa shook he head. "You're a remarkable woman. Anything you ever want me to do..."
"Not for me, but look after Lucinda, will you?" She gave a tight smile and squeezed back into the hole and went to lie down beside Simon, feeling more cold than she ever had in her life.
All that she had heard from Clarissa just proved that you could never really know another person. You simply had to trust blindly, and pray for the best.
But as Gabrielle wrapped her arms around Simon's body and he snuggled tightly against her in return, she decided that there was such a thing as a knowledge of the heart. She might not know about Simon's childhood, family, even his surname, but she was sure he was a good man, and the one she was destined to spend her future with.
The revelations about her cousins had been startling, however. She had been reluctant to ask them for any help, but with Antony so angry with her over Simon, she wondered if they might not go down to Somerset to try to let bygones be bygones.
Forgiveness was important to her, and she could really use a powerful ally like Randall, the Earl of Hazelmere, if she was ever to protect the people she loved.
She knew what Lucinda's husband the Earl of Oxnard was like. Clarissa's assertions just now about his bad character didn't surprise her in the least. The baby would be a bone of contention as soon as it was born. It would become a weapon for him to wield against his wife to get her to cooperate. Especially if it were a son and heir.
But Oxnard had put her in this state of madness, she was sure of it, and could not be trusted to look after her welfare or a helpless infant
Simon too was like a helpless infant in many ways, with no one to care for him except her. And what would happen if he were ever declared sane again? Could they then bring up the charges against him? Make him stand trial for his supposed crimes?
She knew someone could
not be tried for the same crime twice, but Antony had simply said his powerful family and friends had covered it all up.
She didn't believe the story for a moment-it was a fabrication by the people who had imprisoned him and kept him drugged.
But the danger was very real, for all she tried to be optimistic. If they could treat him like this, what else could they do to Simon whenever it suited them?
Chapter Eighteen
Gabrielle found out soon enough what Simon's enemies were capable of about fifteen days after she had first dressed as a strumpet and arrived in his cell.
Simon was doing much better, and was now coherent and lucid, and in a good mood most of the time.
He would occasionally have an hallucination, a near-seizure, or become despondent, but on the whole, they basked in each other's love and tenderness, and had made a paradise on earth in the little cell with their mutual love and passion.
He was nothing if not a magnificent and accomplished lover during his coherent times, and tender and considerate even in the throes of the agony of his opium withdrawal.
Every kiss and caress seem to both leave them wanting more, and as their intimacy grew, so to did their responsiveness to one another.
They were so in tune, Gabrielle was sure they could never grow closer, and yet each passing day, and night gifted her with new revelations about the remarkable man whom fate had bestowed upon her.
But with great love came the fear of great loss, and while Gabrielle tried not to dwell on her concerns, she did her best to be prepared for them.
On a freezing cold day near the end of March, she was in Lucinda's cell tidying when she heard footsteps and Simon's cell door clang open.
She had moved most of the things she had brought with her into Lucinda's chamber at his insistence, for he feared that someone would get nervous or suspicious as to where he had got so many comforts.
She now listened, all the hairs standing up on the back of her neck, to the altercation taking place between her beloved and his visitors.
"You know what I need," a gruff voice growled.
"I'm not going to give it to you."
"Free the eagle."
She heard him gasp and choke, and then what sounded to be paper crinkling and a quill scratching on the parchment.
Gabrielle grabbed her pistols from the bag Clarissa had brought for her. Fortunately she had had the presence of mind to load them in readiness just in case.
"Do you know what you're doing?" Simon gasped, sounding as though he were in agony. "This will mean..."
"Glory. Beyond my wildest dreams. And death for you at last."
A second voice now said, "Non. Not yet. We must follow orders a little while longer." She heard him clear his throat and spit, and the sound of several thumps. Simon grunted in pain but did not cry out.
"Batard. Canard." The first man growled.
"You ought to know, I suppose," Simon sneered. "The pair of you are bastards. And I've never met a bigger bunch of cowards than the Imperial Guard. You show your moustaches and pricks and think whole armies and villages are just going to open wide to be devoured and raped. Well not any more. Wellington beat you in the Peninsula, and in your own country. Right in Toulouse. And we shall do it again if we have to."
"That's it. Kill him now," the first man ordered.
Gabrielle rammed herself in through the partly concealed opening. "Don't touch him. Get the hell out, now! And don't come back."
She met the gazes of the two nondescript-looking men as she quickly got from her knees to her feet and levelled the pistols between their eyes. Both had medium brown hair, were thin and wiry, quite tall, though not as huge as Simon. Cold grey eyes. Lethal. Surprised, but still self-assured.
"And don't think I won't use them. Or that I'm not a crack shot. You got what you came for. Now leave. And leave him alone. Or believe me, gentlemen, there will be consequences."
"Consequences, from a whore like you?" one of them sneered.
She shot him a look as hard a slap. "Aye, from a mere woman like me. Because I heard everything, and I've seen your faces. Enough to know traitors to their country when I see them. France or England, it matters not. Anyone who wants to bring their country to the brink of war, and profit by it, is a coward and traitor. So get the hell out. And if you value your miserable hides, don't you dare return here ever again. "
She moved behind the door as Simon shouted for the guard. Both men shot a wary look at each other, shrugged, and called for the guard as well.
"We're done here," the first man growled.
Gabrielle stood tensely waiting for them to demand of the guard what she was doing there, to give her presence away. But they stepped out of the door without a word or backward glance, and the door clanged shut.
She pressed her ear to the door, but there was no whispering, or any form of conversation or consultation. The men's footsteps echoed down the length of the corridor to the stairs, and began to descend, while Spence the guard whistled a little tune, and then jeered that he hoped Simon had had a nice visit with his "friends."
Gabrielle's mind whirred the whole time she was listening. She was already rapidly formulating a plan of escape. She had always known that when she left Bedlam, Simon would be coming with her. It would simply have to happen a bit sooner than she had hoped.
So long as she could get to Antony or to her cousins, all would be well. Or to Clarissa, who had given her her address after her confession, and said to come to ever if she was ever in trouble.
As for her sister, well, she was in danger too, but not in imminent threat of her life like Simon. She could always have someone come back for Lucinda. Put pressure on Oxnard to allow her to be released into the care of her blood relations.
Surely Randall might be willing to pay Oxnard enough money to leave her alone, and initiate a divorce so she and the babe would be safe....
All was soon silent in the corridor, and she heaved sigh of relief and ran over to Simon. She wiped his face free of spittle and dabbed at his cut lip.
"Those swine. Thank God I was here..."
He looked more wretched than she had ever known. "But they've seen you now. It's all over."
"No surely not. They could have said something to the guard, got rid of me and slit your throat."
"My guess is they must think you work for our side. There aren't too many people armed with pistols locked away in here."
"Our side?"
"The English."
"But they were French."
"Oui."
"So what did they..."
"I can't tell you. I'm not even sure myself."
"They made you write something down. A message? In code?" she guessed.
He immediately clapped his hand to his head in pain. She cradled his cheek against her bosom and soothed him, stroking his back and the nape of his neck as he leaned against her heavily.
"What do we do? Should we try to escape now?" she asked, filled with misgivings.
"No," he gritted out. "We'd never get far with me like this, and we ought to wait for Clarissa, tell her what happened. If she turned up and we had already run..."
"We could go to her place, leave a message there before we--"
He shook his head. "We're only going to get one chance. If we storm out of here pointing pistols at people, the Bow Street Runners and the authorities will be after you as well as me."
"But what makes you think they'll be after you?"
He sighed heavily. "Because I know the way my boss works. He'll want to make sure that I have no one to help me, no one to turn to. There will be a manhunt here in London, a bounty on my head, and the head of anyone who might dare to offer me assistance..."
Gabrielle felt a cold finger of fear stroke down her spine. "Then we can't go to Antony for help."
"No. I also can't ask you to leave your sister..."
She pulled his head away from her chest to gaze at him. "You're not asking me to do anything. I'm offering. Trust me. It
will be fine. I've got money and possessions. All we have to do is get out of the city, and get to my cousins in Somerset. They'll take us in, I promise.
"Now, Clarissa will be here soon. Let's hope we don't have to flee tonight, but we'll prepare for the worst all the same. I'll put our essentials in the small valise, and everything else we can just leave behind in Lucinda's room."
He nodded.
"Did they hurt you badly?" she asked when he continued to stare at the ground dejectedly.
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection 6 Page 19
