Scars Upon Her Heart (The Scars of The Heart Series)

by Sorcha MacMurrough

She had taken the money he had offered just in case, and there was the draft for Will's commission as well. Many another woman would just cut and run.

  But she knew that would be the ultimate betrayal of all they had shared. He had trusted them despite appearances being against them. Staying by his side to offer loyal service as Will had done was the least she could do, even if she wasn't in love with him.

  But in love with Stewart she most certainly was. No, even if they had only a short time together, anything was better than going back to the miserable, loveless existence she had led before she had met Stewart. She knew he was in love with someone from his past, but perhaps she could erased the memory by loving him unreservedly.

  As the hours went passed, and Vevina pressed her horse and Mitchell to the limit, her mind turned from her relationship with Stewart to focus upon her rapidly approaching interview with Wellington. She prayed that he was at Headquarters, not out on manoeuvres, and that she could persuade him the situation was serious.

  Vevina decided that honesty was the best policy, and so she would have to tell him everything. If he then determined that she must return to England to face the charges against her, she would have to go, no matter how much she wanted to stay with Stewart.

  But perhaps she could convince him that she and Wilfred had been the unwitting victims in a foul plot of Samuel’s which could jeopardise the Britain itself if Samuel wasn’t stopped.

  Vevina rode on until nightfall, barely stopping once in the forty miles except to exchange horses at the British Army camps dotted along the supply route.

  She was relieved to hear that Wellington was in camp when Mitchell and she rode into Guarda and stated they had important dispatches for the Viscount, but it was several hours before she was allowed to see him. He had meetings, then dinner, and then more meetings, while Vevina paced up and down the anteroom impatiently.

  At one point she threw herself down on a settee in exasperation, but just as she did so, Wellington himself swept into the room, and informed her that he was now ready to see her.

  Though only five foot nine, Wellington was still taller than most men she had met, with piercing blues eyes, and a handsome if somewhat hawkish face.

  He wore no uniform, but an elegantly-cut blue coat with snowy white linen of the highest quality. His hair, well-kept and curled, framed his handsome visage. Vevina thought to herself privately that it was not wonder they had also nicknamed him “The Beau.”

  She had already handed in the dispatches, and so she was able to concentrate on telling him her tale and Wilfred's, which he listened to keenly, but in utter silence.

  In the end, Wellington informed her that the return to England which Vevina had so dreaded was not an option, for the simple reason that Samuel had made sure she and her brother were being hunted high and low. He had even been offering a general reward throughout the British Isles for information leading to their capture.

  Vevina practically fainted as Wellington informed her of this desperate state of affairs.

  He thoughtfully ordered supper for herself and Mitchell, and it was some time later, after she had eaten and Mitchell had gone to bed for the night that he summoned her so they could resume their conversation.

  She thanked her lucky stars that she had not been clapped in irons thus far, but recounting her tale again to the silent and imposing Duke began to make her nervous.s

  Wellington listened to her whole story a second time with a smile of almost fatherly indulgence, but he grew impatient when Vevina once again began to reveal her fears about Samuel’s plans.

  “And why should I believe your fanciful tales, Lady Vevina, when by all account you're a traitor to your country, and a murderess besides?” he finally snapped, as she tried to convince him about Samuel’s plans for an invasion of Ireland on Joyce lands.

  “Murderess?” Vevina burst out, her mouth hanging open in astonishment. “My Lord, we have been accused of treason, we were imprisoned for it, but murder? Who has said such a thing?”

  “You and your brother are wanted for the murder of one Thomas Baines, secretary to the Duke of Clancar, Samuel Fitzgerald.”

  She shool her head. “Impossible! Thomas Baines was very much alive when we left. I’m fairly certain he was instrumental in helping myself and my brother escape from Samuel’s clutches. He was alive the last time I saw him. He helped us. Why would we wish to harm him?” Vevina argued angrily.

  Wellington smiled tightly, but Vevina continued, thinking aloud. “Perhaps that's why he was killed, because Samuel knew of his involvement. Or possibly because he knew too much of Samuel’s plans. At any rate, I swear by all I hold sacred, he was alive when I saw him last, in Ireland, and Samuel Fitzgerald isn’t the Duke of Clancar, his brother Stewart is.”

  His brows lofted. “So it’s Stewart , is it?”

  Vevina blushed, and decided to tell the only lie she had so far. “We're married now, my lord, and I need to be with my husband. If you want to send me back to England for trial, that's up to you. But I'm telling you once more that I'm innocent. That Samuel trumped up those charges against my father, and made us sign papers making the attainted property over to him.

  "Please, with the stolen code book, and Samuel buying a commission, and my estates in Ireland, it all adds up to a betrayal, not only of myself and my family, but all of England and Ireland.”

  “How can you expect me to turn my whole system of army communication upside down just at the mere word of a wild young woman who for all I know might be a traitor!” Wellington said coldly.

  She rose from her chair and began to pace in front of his desk. “Please, listen to me, my Lord, and check as much of my story as you are able. You have power and connections, I had nothing, no one to help me find out anything when my father was accused and we were imprisoned in Kilmainham Gaol. We only got vague hints and suppositions as we rotted away in our cells, and Wilfred was tortured.

  "But one thing I'm certain of, and this you can verify, was that all the papers and seals used as proof against my father at the trial concerning the Emmett rebellion must have come from somewhere. They were genuine, so far as I can tell. They looked old in many ways. The papers were real, but my father’s signature on them was not.”

  “What are you trying to prove, Lady Vevina?” Wellington asked impatiently.

  “Since those papers must have been genuine, someone must be guilty of treason! It is too elaborate a plot to have been completely made up. And why else would Samuel Fitzgerald’s trusted secretary help us to escape? He knew the papers were real, but Samuel’s, not ours. What better way to prevent us from exposing him than for Samuel to kill the one man who could reveal the whole truth and exonerate us? What better way to prevent us from foiling his plans than to have us hunted down like dogs and killed?”

  Vevina approached closer, her skirts swishing, and pounded on the desk in desperate frustration.

  “Please, my Lord, I beg you. Allow me the chance to prove my loyalty to the Crown, and let me expose Samuel Fitzgerald for the traitor he really is.”

  Wellington looked across at her impassioned face coldly, but one eyebrow raised in inquiry.

  “What exactly do you propose to do to prove your loyalty?”

  Vevina sighed, and shrugged wearily. “I’m not sure yet, my Lord. You still haven’t told me whether the message we got from Samuel via Hawkes is real,” Vevina parried, pointing to the crumpled paper on the table.

  Wellington smiled thinly, and shook his head. “It just so happens that it is not. So we are inclined to go along with your story, and I for one am grateful. You took a great risk in coming here, and also put your brother’s as well as your own life in the balance telling me all that you have, and trusting to my mercy.”

  He rose from his chair and gazed out the window at the darkened streets of Guarda.

  Vevina waited patiently, eventually resuming her seat, and waiting until he turned to face her, meeting her violet gaze with startling candor.

 
“On the whole, I will agree that something mysterious is going on. But we both have little proof, just a handful of suppositions. So as you say, perhaps it is better to let Samuel Fitzgerald show his hand first. Therefore, I am prepared to let you go back to the South Warwickshires, in my employ as an intelligence gatherer, and I will also give your brother the captaincy Major Fitzgerald has requested and purchased."

  "Thank you, my lord, you're being most generous in the circumstances."

  "Just make sure I don't regret it, young miss, or I shall see your head up on a pike myself. Which would be a damned waste of such a fine mind and the beauty that goes with it."

  "Thank you, my lord, I won't let you down."

  “If what you suspect is true, pray God you don't. So now, to battle with you, my dear. From now on, all messages from me and the other companies will be prefaced by ‘God Save the King,’ and will also end in that way, so you will know they are genuine. If there are any changes at Cuidad Roderigo, you are to let me know instantly.”

  “My Lord,” Vevina said quietly, “even if we do let you know what's happening, your reinforcements are more than two days’ march away. We could all be dead by then.”

  “We will send some troops to you, quietly, a company at a tim. But you will have to be ever on the alert. And you must not tip your hand by disobeying the instructions ostensibly sent by me. You must fall back to a new position, far enough away so that Samuel Fitzgerald thinks you are gone. Then he will make his move, of that I am sure.”

  “Major Fitzgerald and my brother are pretending we're falling back, but they are on the alert. What else should we do?” Vevina asked desperately.

  “Major Fitzgerald will have to do what he can if an emergency arises,” Wellington stated in a flat tone..

  Vevina nodded, suddenly fearful, understanding the full implications of what he was telling her. They were the new front line, and they had to hold it to the death.

  “You and Private Mitchell will ride back, and Mitchell will go on to Samuel Fitzgerald with a message saying I'm going for a meeting in Lisbon, and to retire to winter quarters, so that he should send his reports directly to me, to keep me abreast of the progress of the siege throughout.

  "If he think I am far away, he might set his plan into motion that much more quickly. Then we can catch him in the act. And we can use the element of surprise against him. We're as ready as we'll ever be for a French onslaught, though I would much rather spend our energy taking Cuidad Roderigo so we can have some decent winter quarters there at last.”

  She nodded. “That's our hope too, and the men are ready for it."

  "Good."

  "Thank you my Lord, for your trust and assistance. I did not expect so much from you, and I'm grateful.”

  His straight-lipped mouth turned up slightly into a half smile.“May I say, my dear, you're an extraordinary woman, and Major Fitzgerald is a dashed lucky man. But if you change your mind and wish to come out of the camp, let me know. You will be well received in Lisbon, even if you cannot return to London immediately. But I will set the necessary wheels in motion, to see if your situation is recoverable.”

  Vevina gave him a sweeping curtsy, and in spite of Wellington’s protests, asked for a servant to be sent to wake Mitchell, and tell him they were leaving.

  When he saw he could do nothing to dissuade this determined young woman from immediately setting out on the return journey, Wellington directed her personally to the fresh horses waiting for them outside, and with a nod to Mitchell, said, “Ride like the wind, and may God be with you.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Vevina dreaded having to make the long ride back to Stewart’s camp again after so little rest, but she had no choice. All of her suspicions had been confirmed, that Samuel was indeed planning something dreadful.

  And if the truth were told, she couldn’t wait to see Stewart again, and was willing to ride back at lightning speed even though her bones ached, just to reassure herself that all was well and be with him again. She knew Samuel was a great threat to Stewart’s well-being. In wartime, it would be easy enough to try to get rid of his brother and blame it on the enemy.

  Worse still, she was sure he was in Spain for a reason. She was sure it had something to do with planning to invade through her estates, but equally certain that there was something on the Continent he wanted badly enough as well that he would have come all this way for it. Whatever it was, it had to be worth more than the thousands he had paid to ascend to the majorship. Knowing Samuel, it had to be well nigh priceless for him to bestir himself to make such an effort.

  Vevina was overjoyed at the prospect of seeing Stewart again, but mentally steeled herself for the confrontation which would inevitably follow. She knew he would be angry with her for returning, but there would be plenty of time later to take up Wellington’s offer to go to Lisbon.

  Since returning home was now impossible because of Samuel’s accusation of murder as well, there was only one choice. Vevina would render herself indispensable to Stewart, help Will be the most successful captain on Stewart's staff, and make the best of her situation.

  Vevina and Mitchell rode the forty miles back to their base camp without any incident until they reached the fork in the road where Vevina was meant to turn off, and Mitchell was meant to continue on with his message to Samuel at Cuidad Roderigo.

  Suddenly, Mitchell’s horse threw its shoe, and they had a small debate over whether or not they should exchange horses.

  “Major’ll ‘ave me ‘ead iffen I don’t get you back in one piece,” Mitchell complained with a wide grin.

  “But I know the way, even in the dark, and at any rate, I pass for a Spanish woman. I can even speak the language, so I'm less at risk than you are. This message must reach Major Fitzgerald back at our camp. So go as fast as you can with your mount, and expect me sometime later.”

  “He’ll be raging, so he will, Viv,” the handsome dark-eyed man warned.

  “Ben, he’ll be raging anyway when he finds out I’ve returned with you, so one thing more or less won’t make him angry. Just don’t tell him until he asks you where I am,” Vevina instructed.

  Vevina spurred her horse before Mitchell could argue further, and headed for Cuidad Roderigo as fast as her tired steed would take her.

  Vevina began to feel an uneasy creep of fear as she neared Samuel’s camp. What would she do if she had to face the one man she hated more than anything else in the world? But perhaps Samuel wouldn’t even recognize her, or she could give the message to one of the captains and get out of the camp quickly. No return message was expected, so she could turn around and head home straight away.

  But in the end it was not as simple as Vevina imagined it would be, for she was led up to a tent and told to wait while the Major was found. As she stood outside, she overheard something so incredible, she had to get closer to listen.

  Samuel said distinctly, “As soon as the attack is launched, I am to meet with the head of the French garrison at the south portal at ten. In all the confusion, no one will notice, and once I have disappeared, they’ll assume I am among the captured officers. You, Grimes, will escort me there, as my bodyguard. You, Hawkes, will give my brother these messages, saying Wellington is dead, and that he is to send the message along to all the other camps to wait until they get further orders from headquarters. Now all we have to do is wait for the right moment to attack, some time in the next three days.”

  Vevina gasped as a tall figure stood behind her, and demanded, “Who are you? What are you doing here!”

  In the growing darkness she couldn’t see the man’s face, but the voice was certainly familiar to her somehow.

  “Message for Major Fitzgerald, sir,” Vevina stammered, in her best Spanish-accented English.

  “Come inside then. Don’t be lurking around out here like a gypsy.”

  Vevina was forced inside the tent, and encountered the ice-cold blue eyes of Samuel as he stared at her contemptuously.

  “N
o, Francis, it’s too early for the whores, and this one is definitely too thin for my tastes,” Samuel snapped

  “No, sir, she bears a message from Wellington.”

  Samuel grabbed the paper she offered shakily, and spat, “Well, I supposed I’d better read it then, hadn’t I, my useful little secretary.”

  He turned to fixed his cold eyes on Vevina, and sneered, “Since when does Wellington use doxies for his errands?”

  “I am a Partisan,” Vevina said angrily, barely succeeding in remaining in her role.

  “Well, gentleman,” Samuel suddenly chuckled. “We move tomorrow. Wellington is out of the way in Lisbon. By the time he ever finds out what has happened, it will be too late.”

  Samuel looked her over again, and said suggestively, “The orders here say not to move until he returns, but then I never got these orders, did I? All sorts of terrible things can happen to a slim young partisan on her journey here, can’t they, Grimes?”