Trials of Artemis

by Sue London

  "Fine, are you going to stand here and defend all of your sex to me? All those empty headed little fools and manipulative vipers? Women like you, who are educated and intelligent, are beyond rare."

  "As if your sex is any better? The ton has scores of fops and rakes and vicious men whose only pursuit is wealth and influence regardless of whom they hurt. How am I supposed to feel better knowing that each of them has the right to direct the flow of governance?"

  "At least men are expected to be educated."

  "A bloody lot of good it does! And why couldn't women be expected to be educated as well?"

  He threw his hands in the air. "Now you want better education for women! Well, you'd best write a letter to Quince, I'm sure he would be happy to take that issue forward to the House of Lords for you."

  " You make me feel as though I don't even know you! Why do you have to be so..." Her voice trailed off and she put a hand to her head then crumpled to the floor.

  Gideon felt his heart lodge in his throat when she fell. Cradling her in his arms he moved her to the bed, then rang for Lara. When the maid appeared he demanded, "Has the doctor come to see my wife yet?"

  The little maid shook her head, backing away from him.

  "Send for him now, please. I will expect him immediately. And ask cook for anything that is good for fainting."

  "Yes, my lord," she said with a quick curtsy and then fled the room.

  His Jacqueline was starkly pale, the dark circles under her eyes standing out like charcoal. Gods, he felt like an ogre for yelling at her. She was upset but that was certainly something they could work out. Stubborn as she was, yelling at her wouldn't change her mind. He kissed her limp hands and waited for someone to come who could tell him what to do for her.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Jack awoke to a sharp smell that made her sneeze. She sat up rubbing her nose and saw a wizened, bespectacled man looking at her. "Hello, Lady Harrington," he said with the barest sketch of a bow, "I'm Doctor Galloway. How are you feeling?"

  "Tired. Sore. What happened?"

  He sat on the edge of her bed and patted her hand. "You fainted, my dear. Gave Lord Harrington quite a scare. Your maid says you have been feeling ill this week?"

  "Yes. Exhausted, sick to my stomach. I'm sure it will pass."

  "Most likely. When was the last time you had your menses?"

  "What?"

  "Your female bleeding, my dear."

  She stared off toward the window. "Not since... before we were married."

  "It's possible you may also have some other complaint but most likely it is just the early stages of pregnancy. This may be news you want to keep to yourself. Many pregnancies don't make it past the first month. Or, if you wish, I can tell his lordship the news. You're young and healthy, we have no reason to believe you won't carry to term."

  "No, it’s all right,” she said softly. “I'll tell him. When we're more certain."

  "Then I will plan to come back and see you next month to check on your progress, my dear. Send for me if you begin to believe you have a malady. Dibbs knows my direction."

  She nodded. "Yes, of course."

  As he prepared to leave she said, "Wait, doctor. What should I tell my husband when he asks what was wrong?"

  "We'll just tell him you were overwrought. That tends to be a diagnosis that husbands don't press for too many details on."

  She nodded again and went back to looking out the window. There had been a time when she would have been delighted to know that she carried Gideon's child but now it felt like another thing that would bind them too closely together. After the doctor left she stroked her stomach. "I'm sorry, sweetling, you don't deserve to be born into a house of strife."

  When the doctor had told him that Jacqueline was "overwrought" Gideon thought to give her some time to recover. But a week had passed and he hadn't seen hide nor hair of her. Tired of having his wife avoid him, Gideon walked into her rooms to seek her out. She wasn't in her sitting room, where he saw some bookshelves had been added. It was fine work indeed with delicate scrollwork painted light blue and edged with gilt of such fine craftsmanship one could hardly tell it was not originally part of the room. Entering her bedroom, he saw that shelves and cabinets had been added in here as well. Undoubtedly her weapons lurked in one of those cabinets since he didn't see them on display. Perhaps having them inaccessible would ensure that the two of them didn't come to sword point. If he could find her. On cursory review of the room he didn't see her on the bed or in one of the chairs. Just before he was going to give up and search the library again he noticed two slippered feet on one of the window seats, the rest of the woman hidden behind a billowing blue and yellow curtain. As he approached the window, she was slowly revealed beyond the curtain in her yellow morning dress with a book open on her lap. She looked as though she felt better, her skin clear and rosy and her hair again in the soft, pinned waves she preferred. He leaned against the wall opposite her and looked down, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest. She was so beautiful.

  "Yes?" she said irritably, without looking up.

  "I thought to check on you since you've now closeted yourself away up here for nearly a fortnight. Mrs. Gladstone says you still haven't been feeling well."

  She turned a page. "Indeed I haven't."

  "I've missed you at breakfast." He found it gave his heart a bit of a lurch to admit as much. His statement seemed to give her pause, however, and her glance flicked up as far as his waistcoat before she trained her eyes back on her book.

  "Have you? My apologies for leaving you without company."

  "I thought you never missed the family meal."

  Her brows furrowed. "That was when I had a family."

  The statement lay there between them, revealing exactly how much her feelings had changed. For a moment Gideon couldn't breathe. A tight band of tension wrapped his chest, leaving his heart feeling like it had iced over as a pond does in winter. He slowly straightened from the wall. "I see." He walked across her room to their adjoining door and then through it, closing it with a very soft click. Staring at the handle for a few moments he finally reached out to engage the lock.

  Jack awoke early and stared at the window as dawn lightened the edges of her curtains. Justin still hadn't written and she felt conflicted. She was afraid to resume a close relationship with her husband if his politics proved to be untenable to her. On the other hand, when he had stiffened and walked away after her comment about family, she had felt horrible. A man who was never close to anyone had admitted to her that he missed her company, and she had thrown it back in his face. It didn't help that pregnancy was making her weepy and emotional. Other than the morning meeting with Mrs. Gladstone over the household affairs, a meeting they were now taking in Jack's sitting room since her illness, she tried to avoid anyone else in the household. She found that the French novels and plays she preferred made her cry and was now reading scientific texts in an effort to keep hold of her emotions. She was afraid to write any of these details to her friends because Gideon might intercept and read the letters. She had never felt more alone in her life.

  She knew from Mrs. Gladstone's updates that the earl had followed through on her suggestion to employ the four oldest Hobbes children and that they had arrived almost a week ago. She had asked Mrs. Gladstone to send Emmy home to help her mother until Jack was feeling better. Meanwhile, by the housekeeper's reports, it sounded like the other children were settling in well. She supposed she should see to having some appropriate frocks made for Emmy's role as companion. There were many things that needed to be done. But first she would start with breakfast. Throwing back the covers she prepared to go downstairs for the first time in almost two weeks. After many fights with her strong-willed best friends she knew that the best course when having done a wrong was to apologize as soon as possible. From what she had seen, the earl had Sabre's temper and George's capacity to hold a grudge. The morning should prove interesting.

  Whe
n Gideon entered the breakfast room his wife was sitting at her place arranging items on her plate to her satisfaction. He considered turning and walking out. Strongly considered it. But, since that would be craven, he instead took a steadying breath and walked to his place at the table. The footman held out his chair and as he settled into it he could smell her soap. The least the damned woman could do was sit at the other end of the table now.

  "Good morning, Gideon," she said, still not looking up from her plate.

  That simple statement left him wanting to blister her with his response. He had hoped that the brutal gallop he had taken Falcon on over the Downs would have helped to settle his temper, but apparently not. After the initial shock had worn off he had spent the night pacing his room like a caged animal, torn between grief and rage. After finally falling asleep, he had awakened with a dream he hadn't had since childhood of walking all the halls of Kellington and finding everyone dead.

  He still hadn't responded when she continued. "I wanted to apologize for what I said last night. It was petty and childish of me."

  At that she finally raised her gaze to his and he saw that her eyes were reddened and sad. Even through his hurt and anger he hated to see her looking miserable, and that just served to irritate him more. It didn't do to allow her to affect him with her tantrums and changes of mood. He resolved to treat her as he would a peer in the House. He had never allowed any of them to unman him. Even Quince couldn't provoke him anymore while in the House.

  "Think nothing of it," he said with a shrug. "Are you feeling better?"

  "Some, thank you."

  "You'll never recover if that's all you eat," he said, indicating the small portion of toast and egg she was pushing around her plate.

  "If I eat any more it doesn't do well."

  He shrugged again. "As you wish."

  "Gideon, I wondered if I could ask of you a favor."

  She still sounded pitiful and by the gods he wished that he had a tot of brandy. She was giving him a headache. "Ask," he said abruptly.

  "If when next you go to London I could go with you to see my... to see my parents and sister."

  He could tell that she had stopped from saying her family. To see her family, her real family. Rather than being with what she saw as a failure of a husband. He ground his back teeth together but responded with equanimity. "If you like."

  "Thank you, Gideon."

  He wished that she would stop using his name. "I thought that you might want to remove to our estate in Staffordshire when they repair to the country after the season, so as to be closer."

  "Oh, they will be staying in London after the season."

  "No, I saw to it. They will be returning to Derbyshire. My manor in Staffordshire is less than an hour by carriage and I thought you might appreciate the proximity."

  He thought she was quiet for a suspiciously long time, He finally looked at her again to find she had a stricken expression and tears streaming down her face. "What?" he asked irritably. He had arranged all of this for her benefit and she was looking at him like he'd killed a puppy.

  "I knew that I would eventually be banished to a minor property but hadn't expected it within the first month." She covered her mouth on a sob and lurched to her feet. With that, she stumbled to the door and fled the room.

  When he had made the arrangements he had planned to go with her, but as he didn't imagine he would now, it hardly mattered to explain that. He was at a loss over what to do. Perhaps, despite her reaction at the news, she would be happier without him. He couldn’t think of anyone close to him that he hadn’t disappointed. Why had he expected it to be any different with her?

  He hadn’t cried since he was very small, but he recognized the hot, pricking feeling at the back of his eyes. He rose abruptly from the table, almost knocking over his chair. Certainly the stables had another horse in need of exercise.

  Jack sobbed into her pillow until she was thoroughly sick of crying. Perhaps it was for the best that she hide herself away in Staffordshire. She would have her parents and Sam nearby when the babe came. Provided that all this emotional tumult didn't make her lose it. She wrapped her arms around herself and wondered what parts of Gideon that the child would have. His kindness or his arrogance? His eyes? His unruly dark hair? With these thoughts she drifted off to sleep again.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Jack awoke to Lara shaking her shoulder. "My lady, my lady, please wake up."

  Her mind was muddled with a nap that must have lasted most of the day if the light from her windows was any indication. "What is it Lara?"

  "The earl is in terrible trouble."

  At that she sat up. "What happened? Where is he?"

  "Please come downstairs to talk to Mr. Gladstone."

  Not even bothering to straighten her hair or morning dress, Jack ran down the steps after Lara to find the front hall full of servants. Dibbs and Philip Gladstone were easy enough to spot in the crowd.

  "What's happened? Where is my husband?" Jack demanded.

  Dibbs looked coldly at Philip Gladstone and the younger man stepped forward, twisting his hands together and not looking up at Jack. "The owlers have him, Lady Harrington."

  She felt her heart lurch in her chest. "The smugglers? How on earth... I thought those were old stories."

  "No my lady," Philip said. "Since the war they have been bringing in French wine and fabrics."

  "How did you know that?"

  Philip began to look even more miserable and Dibbs prodded him. "Answer the countess."

  "I've been helping them."

  Jack heard a whimper from the sidewall and saw that Mrs. Gladstone was propped in a chair with two maids fanning her face.

  Steeling herself to hear the story, Jack said "Tell me what happened."

  Philip looked at the ring of angry faces around him, then swallowed and began speaking. "Well, the owlers, they've been using a cave in the cliff side for storage. The earl hasn't shown any interest in riding the cliffs for the last few years. But this afternoon... This afternoon he did."

  "And then?"

  "He must have been curious when he saw crates on our shore because he came down to the beach. One of the men caught him from behind. I was talking to Belfor... he's the uh, he's their leader, when the men brought him in."

  "What is his condition? Was he stabbed or..." Jack trailed off and her heart was in her throat while waiting for the answer.

  "He was unconscious. The man must have hit him with a club or some such."

  She let out the breath she had been holding. Such a head injury could be terrible but not necessarily fatal. She turned to Dibbs. "Has the constabulary been called?"

  Dibbs looked at Philip with a raised brow. "According to Mr. Gladstone that would be a mistake because they are, how did you phrase it? On the take."

  Jack looked at Philip again. Her voice cracked as she considered the possibilities."Are you here to ask for the ransom?"

  Philip was traumatized. "No, my lady! As soon as I recognized the earl I snuck out to come back here so that we could determine what to do."

  She looked around the room at the shocked and fearful faces of the staff. Her people. Their people. They loved Gideon and would probably do anything for him but they needed leadership if they were to do it. By the gods, why wasn’t it Sabre here instead of herself? Sabre, who had won almost every game of war they had ever played. Jack took a deep breath and tried to control her rapidly escalating fear. Yes, Sabre had won every war. But Jack had won a good number of battles. And that was all this was. A battle.

  "Dibbs, find out who among the staff have military service and have them meet me in the library, and then send for Dr. Galloway. We don't know what we'll be dealing with yet. Also, have my weapons brought down from my room. Lara can help you find them. Mrs. Gladstone, you and your maids make sure that there are clean bandages and other supplies readied. Mr. Gladstone, you are with me." With that she swept out of the front hall and toward the library, the staff sprin
ging into action behind her. Once they were alone in the library she spun on the young steward. "If you are lucky, my husband will deal with you. My current level of charity would find you face down in the marsh."

  Paling even further the young man stuttered. "Y-yes, my lady."

  She rifled through the desk in the room until she found a fairly large piece of parchment, which she laid out on the library table. "Now you're going to give me all the details you can about the geography and the owlers."

  Jack spent the next half hour going over details with Philip. As much as she hated the delay, it was best to be prepared when walking into a situation such as this. Not that she'd ever been in a situation such as this. She searched her mind for advice from the Greek and Roman generals she had studied. Strategy and tactics that had only been of intellectual interest now had much more weight. She had to find some way to apply what she knew or she might be a widow before the night was out.

  Six men from the staff had military experience and all were ready to serve. However, by Philip's account there were least eight owlers. While briefing the experienced men she sent Dibbs to find twelve more volunteers. Enough to overpower the owlers two to one, not so many that stealth wasn't an option. Once she had the men assembled she broke them into three-man teams with a former soldier in charge of each one. After setting aside her chosen weapons, she let the men augment their own supplies from hers. Although there were some murmured comments and raised eyebrows, they armed themselves readily enough.

  She dismissed them briefly, instructing them all to change into dark clothing, running upstairs to change clothes herself. Meeting them again in the front hallway, she stood on a step and looked out over her assembled team. If the owlers were as vicious and brutal as Philip described them then it was likely that at least some of these men would die tonight. It was possible that she should wait for a ransom request. Surely the smugglers wouldn't murder a peer as they would all hang. But then, they would hang for smuggling if discovered.