by Amelia Grey
"I don't know yet. That's what I'm trying to find out. I've asked to speak with Avery. He was unavailable when I arrived, so I came on over here to see you."
"Go back to his office and camp outside at his door. Don't leave until you know exactly what's going on."
"I will."
"Now, have you seen Chelly this morning?"
"No, I wanted to see you first."
"Bradley, this is a hellhole," he said, unable to keep his thoughts from wandering back to Chelly. "I want her out of here. I don't care if you tell them I stole the child from his bed. Just get her out."
"You aren't listening to me or Avery. I can tell them, but it won't free Chelly. Austin, stop thinking about how you feel about her and what you know to be true. The authorities don't know her. It doesn't matter how big or little they think your part in this is. It won't affect what they do to her. Your part in this is just that. Your part. Chelly has to stand on her own. What you did or didn't do won't have any bearing on what they think she did."
Austin shook his head in frustration. "That's not fair."
"For better or worse, that's the way it works."
* * *
"Chelly. Chelly."
She heard someone calling her name, but she didn't want to wake up. After she had taken the medicine Bradley had brought her, her coughing had eased a little and she'd slept. She'd finally gotten warm. She didn't want to peek out from under the covers. And every time she woke up, her chest and throat hurt. She'd gotten comfortable and warm, she didn't want to move.
Something shook her shoulder, but she didn't raise her head from underneath the blankets. "Go away," she mumbled, trying to shake off the offending disturbance.
"Chelly, you must wake up. You have to get up and change clothes. Someone wants to see you."
Bradley's voice finally penetrated her drugged mind. Her eyes popped open and her glazed vision landed on Bradley's face. "Austin? Is Austin coming to see me?" she managed to ask in a voice so hoarse it wasn't recognizable as her own.
"You will be seeing him, yes, but there's also someone else who wants to see you."
"Oh," she scrambled to a sitting position and immediately felt dizzy. She forced the feeling aside and started trying to comb her hair with her fingers.
"Don't worry about that right now," Bradley said, taking hold of her hand. "Here, take this. I've brought you some clean clothes to change into and a brush and pins for your hair. Thollie put everything together for you, but they wouldn't let me bring you any water to wash with."
"That's all right, I'll manage." She took the articles, grateful to see that the bundle included a chemise, stockings, and her cloak. How she'd wished for those things since she'd been in jail. Tears welled up in her eyes. Suddenly she felt like crying. "Thank you for the medicine. It helped."
"Don't mention it."
She started shaking. "I want to see Austin."
"Please, Chelly, don't do this. I have three daughters, but I don't know what to do when they cry."
"No, I won't cry," she said, wiping the tears that pooled in her eyes.
Bradley touched her forehead. "You still have fever. Are you feeling any better?"
She brushed at her hair with her hand. "My cough is better. My chest and throat still hurt."
"And your voice is almost gone, I see. Let me do the talking. I'll fill you in on what's happened the past couple of days."
"First tell me about Austin."
"He's—in jail."
"Jail. How? Why? How did they find out what he did? I haven't said a word about him." She was too stunned to say more.
"Don't get upset. I must admit I might have misjudged you. I—I admire you for remaining so strong in all this. What happened to Austin was nothing you said or did. He did it. He turned himself in trying to get you out."
"But why?" She brushed her hair away from her face. "I'll tell them it was all my doing and they will have to let him go."
Bradley sighed. "That should work. If Austin insists it was his plot and you insist it was all yours, it'll make my job easy. They'll end up keeping both of you in jail for the rest of your lives."
"What has he said? Why did they put him in jail? Are you sure they'll let me see him?"
"Yes, you'll see him. I'd really like to answer all your questions; but, quite frankly, Chelly, we don't have the time right now. I'm going to step outside the door while you change. We'll talk on the way to the marshal's office. There's someone who wants to speak to you and Austin, and we don't want to keep her waiting."
"Her? Who?"
"Bo's mother, Betsy Patterson."
Chapter 20
Bradley's comment stunned Chelly. Betsy Patterson wanted to see her? Why?
As if sensing her need to be alone for a few minutes, Bradley opened the cell door and said again, "I'll wait out here until you're dressed. Just open the door when you're ready."
Chelly's mind flooded with possibilities as she started changing her clothing. Bo's mother wanted to see her? Why? Did she want to say horrible things to her? Did she want to quiz her about where Bo had been and how he'd been treated? Did she want to yell at Chelly and curse her for the pain she'd endured? Chelly tried to slow her wildly beating heart. She tried to will away the pounding in her head and the pain in her chest.
It didn't matter, she bravely assured herself. As long as Bo was with his mother, that was the important thing. She could take whatever Betsy Patterson had to say to her. Even after all that she'd been through, she'd do it all again to return Bo to his mother. A peacefulness settled over her. She had not been able to help her sister, but she had helped Betsy.
Her head felt heavy and she had very little strength as she pulled her dirty dress over her head. She shivered as she hurriedly slipped on her chemise and then the long-sleeved green velvet dress Bradley had brought.
She had no strength. She wasn't sure she could hold her head up through a meeting with anyone. Her cough was better, but not gone away. Her whole body ached. Perhaps she'd feel better if she could just see the outside world, if she could just feel the sunshine on her face.
As fast as her shaky hands would allow, she donned her stockings. After stepping into her slippers, she managed to make some semblance of order out of her hair by arranging it into a bun at the back of her neck. When she finished, she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. Even the dim light from the oil lamps stationed on the wall every fifteen feet hurt her eyes.
The guard standing beside Bradley stepped forward, holding shackles in his hands. "I'm sorry, Miss. I've got to do this."
She looked from Bradley to the guard. "I—I'm not going to run away."
"I know that, Miss, but it's the rules." He knelt down and placed shackles around her ankles.
She turned to Bradley. He nodded and said, "I've already spoken to him about this. There's nothing to be done. He'll have to put them around your wrists, too."
While the guard fastened her anklets, she handed Bradley his coat. "Thanks for lending this to me. Even with the extra blanket, I don't think I could have made it another night without its warmth."
"I only wish I had known you were here before you became so ill. Here, take my arm and let me help you walk. It's quite a ways to the marshal's office."
Three or four steps down the narrow hallway, Chelly realized just how weak and unsteady on her feet the illness had made her. She had to rely heavily on Bradley's strength as the guard led them through a labyrinth of hazy halls and darkened rooms. Several times she had to ask them to stop and let her catch her breath they led her into a small office and helped her sit down in a chair.
A coughing spasm left her tired and breathless. She felt so weak and shaky that seeing Bo's mother held no appeal for her as it once would have. She'd wanted to tell the woman how brave her little boy was. Now, all she wanted to do was see Austin so she could lie back down and go to sleep.
"Are you going to be all right?" Bradley asked, placing a cup to her mouth.
The door to the office opened, and Chelly looked up and saw Austin. She smiled and tried to rise, wanting to run to him, but realized that not only was she too weak to stand, but the guard had locked her shackles to the legs of the chair. "Austin," she murmured softly and reached for him.
"Chelly!"
Austin started toward her, but the guard stepped between them and pushed him into a chair on the other side of the room. "Dammit! Let me go to her."
"You have to sit down or I'll be forced to take you back to your cell," the burly guard said.
Austin struggled against the burly man's hands, which were clamped around his arms like iron bands.
"You have to sit down there, sir. I have to chain you to the chair."
"Austin, sit down," Bradley echoed the guard.
"Can't you see I'm not trying to escape?" Austin argued, still trying to make his way over to Chelly. "I just want to see about her."
Chelly let her gaze feast upon Austin. It seemed like it had been years since she'd seen him. It lifted her spirits just knowing he was in the same room with her. She saw the bruise on his forehead, and like her, Austin had been shackled at the wrists and ankles. She hated seeing him bound, but she was so happy to see him it brought tears to her eyes.
"Chelly, how are you feeling?" Austin asked over the guard's broad shoulder.
His eyes caressed her face with a warm expression, comforting her. She wished she could get close enough to touch him and breathe in his scent, feel his warmth.
"I'm fine," she managed to say. She couldn't take her gaze off him. She'd worried that he might not want to see her after all that she'd done to him and Jubal. Thank God he wasn't so angry with her that he didn't want to talk to her. She would have loved to crawl up in Austin's lap, lay her head against his chest, and let the beating of his heart lull her to sleep.
"Bradley, tell them I don't want to run away or try to free her. I just want to be near her," he said, straining against the guard's grip.
"Austin, the guard can only follow the orders he's been given." He gently touched Austin's shoulder. "Sit down and let this man do his job. We'll see what Avery says when he gets here. He's allowed to break some of the rules. The guard can't."
"That's easy for you to say," Austin remarked, but sat down in the chair. "What in the hell are we doing in here, anyway? This goon wouldn't tell me anything."
"They're guards, not messengers." Bradley kept his tone level. "Mrs. Jerome Bonaparte or Miss Betsy Patterson—I'm not sure which way she prefers to be addressed these days—has asked to see you and Chelly."
"What? Are you sure about this? Why?"
"I'm sure, and I don't have a clue as to why. Right from the beginning this has been a strange case. Nothing has been handled the way it should have been. I'm as confused about this as anyone."
Chelly tried not to cough, but to no avail. She didn't want Austin to know how bad she felt. Sheer force of will was keeping her upright in the chair when her body begged to slip quietly to the floor. She prayed that Bo's mother would come quickly.
"Would you like some more water, Chelly?" Bradley asked.
"No thank you," she answered, "I'm fine."
The office door opened and Marshal Avery walked inside. Behind him came a tall, slender woman impeccably attired in a chamois-colored dress and matching leghorn hat. Her clothes were exquisite in fashion and fit, and her glowing dark hair perfectly coiffured beneath her straw hat. All eyes in the room turned to the lissome, regal-looking lady. Chelly gasped. Bo's mother was as stunningly beautiful.
Betsy glanced from Austin to Chelly before turning to Avery. "Leave us. I want to talk to them alone."
"I can't do that," Avery said. "We can't leave you alone with the prisoners."
"Don't be ridiculous, Marshal. I can see you have them both chained to their chairs. I don't think I'll come to any harm." She turned to Bradley. "You, too."
"Oh, I'm their attorney." He smiled at the lovely woman and pulled on the tail of his coat. "Whatever you have to say to them can be said in my presence."
Chelly tried to force back another cough. She wanted to ask the woman about Bo. She knew he'd be happy to be home, but she wondered if he missed her a little, wondered if he'd ever called her name.
"This woman is sick," Betsy said to the Marshal.
"Er—well, we—"
"They left her in that damp cell and didn't do a damn thing for her," Austin said, interrupting Avery.
Betsy walked over and opened the office door. "Leave us," she said again. "All of you. If you're so worried about me, stand outside the door."
Avery and Bradley continued to mumble their objections as they followed the guard out the door. As soon as Betsy had closed it behind them, Chelly asked in a husky voice, "Bo, how is he? Is he all right? Is he happy to be home?"
"She didn't have anything to do with the kidnapping," Austin said. "Tell them to let her go. You can see she's sick and in need of care."
Ignoring Austin's outburst, the woman walked closer to Chelly. Looking down at her, Betsy said, "He's fine. You are the young woman who took care of him? Miss Worthington?"
Chelly tried to smile, but she wasn't sure her lips managed it. "Yes, he's a very bright young man. I know you must be very proud of him."
A smile graced Betsy's lips, but it didn't reach her eyes. Those alluringly lovely, dark round eyes were sad. They told the story of a woman who'd loved too much, wanted too much, and had been denied too much. Chelly would have loved to have met this young woman before Jerome had come into her life.
"Yes. I am proud of him. Bo tells me you were teaching him how to play chess."
She nodded.
"Miss Worthington, did you kidnap my son?"
Chelly hesitated. She didn't want to get Austin in any more trouble, but looking up into this woman's face she knew she couldn't lie to her either. "No."
"Were you in the process of returning Bo to me when you were stopped by the police?"
"Yes."
"I hired her to look after Bo on the voyage to France," Austin admitted. "She didn't know who he was at the time."
Both Chelly and Betsy looked his way.
"Austin, no!" Chelly managed to say.
"This woman deserves the truth. Chelly tried to force me to take Bo back to Baltimore the moment she found out he'd been kidnapped."
"Don't, Austin," she pleaded.
"Chelly, I'm not going to let you be blamed for something that I did."
Betsy walked closer to Austin. "I received a letter from Jerome stating that he had taken Bo so that his son might have his rightful place by his father's side in Westphalia. Were you involved in that?"
Austin didn't blink. "Only to the point that my ship was used to take Bo to France."
"And what happened that he wasn't delivered to his father?"
"While I went ashore to make final arrangements and to meet the man who was to take Bo to his father, Chelly took command of my ship and sailed away. Through great sacrifice to herself brought him back to America. Her only involvement was in taking the utmost care of Bo and bringing him safely back to you."
Betsy's eyes seemed to look through him to a distant place. "Yes, I knew it was Jerome from the moment I found Bo gone. I didn't need a letter from him telling me. You'll never know the anguish I felt, what I went through that morning. I thought I had no reason to go on living."
Chelly's heart fluttered. Thank God she'd returned Bo in time to save Betsy.
Standing as regal as when she entered, Betsy spoke again. Her eyes seemed to look into the past as she said, "I felt it was as if Napoleon had won again. That mighty warrior had struck my breast again and left me bleeding. I once thought I no longer had a heart to be ripped out, but I was wrong. Napoleon!" She whispered the Emperor's name reverently. "I couldn't fight him. I couldn't win. I tried. Oh,
how I tried! He was too powerful, too great. I would have been the perfect wife for King Jerome, much better than the woman he now has by his side."
Betsy closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, they were smiling. She didn't look at Chelly or Austin, but appeared to be in a faraway land. "Jerome always called me his Elise. Jerome. A more handsome, polished, and gallant man I never met. His manners were courtly. His clothes elegant, fine. He wore scarlets, purples, and blues sewn with gold and silver threads. His magnificence was overwhelming. He was extravagant in everything he did, and I loved it all. I was proud to be his wife. Jerome with all his glorious trappings was mine. I once told my father I'd rather be the wife of Jerome Bonaparte for one hour than any other man's wife for the rest of my life. I still feel that way."
The smile faded from her eyes. "How cruel of fate to call my hand and rob me of the only thing in life I wanted. But, dear, dear Jerome. His exquisite manners and smooth veneer could not hide his cowardice, his treachery. Oh, but for a time, he loved me above all else, including Napoleon. Some think I hate Napoleon for what he did to me, banishing me from Europe; but in truth, I have grudging admiration for him."
A bitter laugh flowed past her perfectly shaped lips. "Napoleon wouldn't let me step one foot off the ship. Not in France, not Lisbon, not even when we arrived at Amsterdam. He was such a powerful man! It was my tragedy to have crossed paths with that great man at a time when he was consolidating his Empire with royal alliances. That was all that mattered to him. Jerome's happiness mattered not at all.
"The Emperor denied me admittance to France, to his family, and to his empire and sent me back to what I hated most on earth—my Baltimore obscurity. Even that condemnation couldn't destroy the admiration I felt for Napoleon's genius and his glory." Her voice softened further. "If only Jerome could have had some of Napoleon's strength, some of his madness. Everything would have been different.
"When I first arrived back at my father's house, cowardice was the only thing that prevented me from exchanging life for the grave. But later it was Bo. Jerome's son.
