“Correct etiquette demands—”
“Etiquette be damned. I’ve seen more than one mission go awry because some officer with more lace than brains demanded his due at the expense of the objective. We are partners in this enterprise. It would help if you could treat me accordingly, whether others are present or not.”
Adam wondered if he meant it, truly. While his statement made some practical sense, Adam doubted it would extend to viewing a Jew as his equal under any other circumstances. He didn’t respond.
“Stubborn man,” Rochlin mumbled under his breath.
Neither man spoke for the next two hours. An inn came into view midafternoon.
“It’s too early to stop,” Rochlin said.
Adam stared at a map and strained his memory. At the pace of the carriage, their journey would take them five hours to reach the next town. “If we press ahead, we'll reach the next posting inn well after dark. I don’t see how we can do it.”
“We could camp tonight,” Rochlin suggested. “Are you up for sleeping on the ground?”
The suggestion startled Adam. He had lived simply enough as a student in Mont-Ombre, but he’d never been an outdoorsman and certainly didn’t expect it of a viscount.
“Come, come, man. I spent four years fighting the French in the Peninsula. I’ve slept under stars more nights than not. You can have the carriage if you prefer.”
Adam bristled at the implication he was less of a man than the viscount. “I can sleep out if we must.”
“We must. This pace is killing me. This was to be my first Yuletide home after years of war. I want to get back. Don’t you?”
“For Christmas?” Adam demanded, swallowing bile.
“No, you daft man. I know your tradition is otherwise. I meant to family, to friends… to Miss Baumann.” He shot Adam a sly smile.
Adam found himself smiling back. “You wish to spend your holidays with your family?” he asked.
“Family is everything. You could join us. You might like Chadbourn Hall filled with greenery, plum pudding, and song.” The viscount shrugged. “Or you might want to hurry to London once we return. Isn’t your family there?”
“My parents are dead,” Adam told him. “Mr. Baumann is a cousin, rather distant unfortunately.”
“No family? I can’t imagine anything worse,” Rochlin said sadly.
Adam remembered belatedly that the dying earl wasn’t just a title. This man’s father lay ill. No wonder he wanted to get home as soon as possible.
“If we could lighten the carriage, we might go faster. We’ve already removed ourselves and what baggage we can fasten to our horses,” he suggested.
“What if we put the baggage back into the carriage and removed some of its heavier load?” Rochlin asked.
“The gold?”
Rochlin nodded. “We can sew it into our saddles and into our shirts. We can’t take it all, but removing even some of the weight should help. Our exploring officers used clever pockets to carry sensitive messages and, yes, gold. We’ll need some fustian and needles, but it can be done.”
“You sew?” Adam laughed.
“I sew. I cook. I am a man of many talents. War teaches many things. Do you think this town big enough to have a draper’s shop?”
“No, but the next one will.”
“So tonight, we sleep under the stars, and tomorrow, we shop.” Rochlin grinned.
“As you wish, my lord,” Adam said sarcastically.
Rochlin made sound that imitated a dog’s growl.
Adam laughed. “If you insist. It may just work—Will.”
They bedded down in a farmer’s field that night. Adam paid the man a few sou, so he gave them straw for bedding. Will, as Adam now tried to think of him, declined. “Straw breeds bugs,” he whispered when they were out of earshot.
Adam lay on the hard ground, wrapped in a blanket and his greatcoat, and stared up at a moonless sky strewn with stars. Did Esther Baumann look out on the same stars? Even in London, the brighter ones would be visible. The memory of her voice came to him then. I’ll pray for you, he heard, and he fell asleep.
Chapter 3
“Speak respectfully to your mother.” Habitual affection softened Nathaniel Baumann’s stern command, even as he gave his daughter a pointed look.
“Sorry, Mama,” Esther murmured. “I just don’t understand why you object.”
Miriam Baumann lay under shawls on her settee; her pallor and shaking hands gave testimony to chronic illness. Her frown seemed to imply she found Esther willful and wanting, and Esther wondered if her mother ever understood her. She bit her lip in anticipation of a scold. A long sigh preceded her mama's reply. “These balls. The upper classes use them to marry their daughters to rich and titled gentlemen. There is no place for you in that world, Esther.”
It was on the tip of Esther’s tongue to demand to know why not, but her father’s concerned glance from where he loomed over her mother’s sickbed stopped her. She clutched the satin covering on both arms of the plush side chair in which she sat and chose her words carefully. “It won’t be that kind of ball, Mama. The entire event has been arranged for the duchess’s charity. The money will go to fund schools, especially for girls.”
“English girls,” Mama said bitterly.
“Surely those English girls need all the education we can support,” Papa said with a twinkle in his eye.
His support strengthened Esther’s determination. “All girls need it. The sort of schools the duchess supports will teach more than needlework and dancing,” she replied.
“I thought you liked that school we sent you to.” Mama sighed.
“I did, mostly. My French is much improved, and the library offered interest. Those schools could be so much better.”
“And you made friends with some of the best families,” Papa said proudly.
Esther smiled back at him. He valued business contacts, but she knew he genuinely wanted her to find a place among the powerful families for her own sake.
“I did. Felicity Belvoir and her sister Sophia will be at the house party. I long to join them.”
“Out of the question,” her mother said. “I’ve heard about those house parties.”
“There won’t be scandal, Mama. I’m sure of it. The duchess will host it personally, and she will see to it the behavior is all that is proper.”
Mama looked skeptical. “Perhaps if I could take you, yes, but you must know that is impossible.”
Esther turned toward her father, hope lodged in her chest.
He shook his head sadly. “I can’t leave town. Business keeps me here. I’ll send a large contribution with our regrets.”
“You see? The Baumanns will do their part for your cause. There is no reason for you to go. You will not meet your future husband there, Esther.”
Why can’t I marry a titled gentleman? Her face crumpled into a frown, but then Adam Halevy’s handsome face popped into memory. The infuriating man turned her insides to jelly, even though his highhanded ways put a wedge between them. Why couldn’t she look elsewhere? The Marquess of Glenaire and his friend seemed amiable enough. Felicity Belvoir’s brother, the Earl of Hythe, had been very polite on his visits to the school. The thought of his dashing appearance made her shiver. All three handsome titled men had made her smile. There would be others. Why shouldn’t I at least dance, flirt, and enjoy their company? Resentment made her as unhappy as could be.
Mama went on without noticing Esther’s preoccupation. “The matchmaker will find a perfect husband in the community for you, Esther, as is traditional. This party is not your world.”
“But, Papa,” Esther burst out, ignoring her mother, “it would be rude to refuse the Duchess of Haverford’s invitation. Her support could be valuable, couldn’t it?”
Papa looked thoughtful.
Another idea came to her. “I may be able to persuade her to include Jewish schools in her charity. Aren’t Montefiore and the others planning a Jewish Free School for L
ondon?”
“For boys, yes,” Papa said.
“Why not girls as well? I want more for my daughters.” Esther colored at that. “That is, when I have them.”
Papa nodded sagely. “We need well-educated mothers for our children,” he said.
“I want them to know the Talmud as well as Adam Halevy knows it,” Esther told them.
Her mother’s laugh came harsh and fast. “Mr. Halevy studied with the rabbis for four years. He is a respected scholar. You can’t expect—”
“Why not?” Esther demanded.
“It isn’t a woman’s place,” Mama said, as if that settled the matter.
Esther stiffened and bit her lip to hold back her reply.
Papa’s raised brows communicated more than words. Not now. Not here.
“What about Dinah?” he asked after an awkward silence.
“What about her?” Mama asked.
“Dinah could escort Esther to Hollystone Hall.”
“Nathaniel, your sister doesn’t budge from our parlor or bestir herself unless you tell her to,” Mama said bitterly.
Esther knew she had the right of it. She dreaded the thought of traveling in her aunt’s close company. Still, if it meant she could go to the house party and ball… “She will do it for you, Papa, if you ask her,” Esther told her father hopefully. At least if you order her to.
“Miriam?” he asked.
Mama sunk back against her pillows. “There is no dissuading your daughter, Nathaniel. Do what you think is best.”
Papa beamed at Esther, and her heart soared.
“I’ll respond to the invitation on the family’s behalf, Esther. Perhaps you might send a more personal note to Her Grace?”
Esther surged to her feet and prepared to bolt off.
“Use your best handwriting, Esther, and be sure to use correct address. And, Esther,” Mama called. “Ladies do not run.”
Chapter 4
The road began to rise at last into the towering Pyrenees. Six weeks after leaving London, after hard and often tedious travel, they crawled into the village of Mont-Ombre in the lower reaches of the mountains. Tonight, at least, Adam would sleep among friends. If the viscount objected, he would have to suffer in silence.
Adam led his companion to a sturdy stone house on the edge of the village. Two rows of windows ranged across each of its flat sides, and painted flower boxes, empty now in the late autumn gloom, hung beneath each window. Children playing in the front garden scattered at their approach, alerting their elders to the visitors. An old man appeared in the doorway. His grizzled hair curled around a brimless hat, and a long robe, open at the front, covered a plain shirt and trousers.
“Adam! Son of my heart, welcome.”
Adam leaned forward in his saddle and greeted the old man. “Honored teacher, blessings on your house.”
“And on yours. We expected you three days ago. I had begun to worry.”
“It could not be helped. Our burdens are heavy, Rabbi.” Adam glanced back at the carriage. He dismounted, and the viscount followed suit.
“They’re expecting us?” Will whispered.
“Most certainly. They are a crucial part of our journey,” Adam whispered back. Raising his voice, he made introductions. “Viscount Rochlin, may I present Rebbe Benyamin Nahmany, the finest Talmudic scholar in Europe.”
The old man bowed deeply. “The honor is mine, my lord. My young friend exaggerates.”
Will returned the bow with a charming smile. “I have never known Mr. Halevy to exaggerate, sir.”
“Ah, good to hear. Perhaps my teaching was not in vain,” the old man replied with a wink. “Come, come, my Alma will already be cooking, delighted to have two more hardy young men to devour her masterpieces.”
“The carriage—” Will began.
“My sons will care for it,” Rebbe Nahmany said.
Adam answered Will’s unspoken question. “We can trust this family with our lives.” To his teacher, he asked, “Mikal and Dan?”
“Mikal is married and giving me grandchildren! Dan will help Yakov do it. We have three students this year. They also may be of assistance.”
“Come inside, Will, and I’ll explain.”
Will watched over his shoulder as three young men, one no more than a boy, led the horses and carriages away, and an army of children carried their personal baggage into the house and up a narrow stairway. Within moments, they were seated in deep cushions before a friendly fire, and a young woman bustled to serve them fragrant tea in colorful cups.
“Greetings, Beth,” Adam guessed.
The old man laughed. “You have been gone too long. Beth is long married. This is my Sarah.”
“My apologies, Sarah. The last time I saw you, you ran barefoot down the road to say goodbye, pigtails flying. You must have been—what—eight?”
“Nine, Mr. Halevy.” The young woman looked at Adam under dark lashes and blushed deeply.
“It is rude of you to remind this lovely young woman of that, Adam,” Will said, smiling at the girl. “My sisters would never forgive me if I spoke thus in front of stranger.”
Sarah colored more deeply and scurried back to the kitchen. Adam watched Will closely but saw no sign of improper interest in the girl. His suspicious mind shamed him.
“I think I had better explain what happens next,” he said to turn the subject, and he began to outline what Nathaniel Baumann and his European cousins had arranged. The gold would be unloaded here. Adam, Will, and the Nahmany sons would carry it into the mountains using three farm carts and oxen, all of them disguised as farm laborers.
“The carriage would never make it up those hills. Your ‘Guillaume’ will have to go a bit farther I fear.” Adam looked at Will cautiously.
“No problem there. I know these mountains. How far can the farm carts go?” The viscount leaned forward, elbows on knees.
“As far as they need to. A troop of soldiers will meet us, led by Major James Heyworth. Do you know him?”
“Jamie?” A grin split the Will’s face. “I know him very well. Our escort?”
Adam nodded. “They will bring horses. We’ll transfer the cargo to a dozen horses, split into two groups, and approach Wellington’s headquarters via back roads or no roads at all from two directions to lessen the risk.”
“I assume he is still at Freineda.” Will looked over at the rabbi.
Rebbe Nahmany shrugged and held his hands wide. “Or Cuidad Rodrigo. The troops will know.”
Will nodded deep in thought. “Jamie will see to it,” he murmured.
“You wish you were on the other side of this transaction,” Adam said. He didn’t form it as a question.
The viscount nodded sadly and attempted a smile. “Hooky ordered me home at my father’s request when his illness worsened. My life isn’t mine to order.”
The realization that a man born to a privilege could have even less freedom than he did surprised Adam. Once again, sympathy for his traveling companion overran old preconceptions.
The viscount must have seen it in Adam’s face. “I’m needed, Adam. Family first. I admit I’m glad for this interlude, but it will be over for me again soon enough. You might have told me all this sooner, though.”
“I assumed your friend the marquess told you. The last part involving the troops was his doing.”
Will shook his head. “He didn’t say a word. Typical. Richard likes to arrange our lives.”
Rebbe Nahmany looked from one to the other. “That is settled then?”
Both young men nodded.
“Let us talk of other things, then, although perhaps equally as unfortunate. I must extend sympathy, Adam. Word reached us that your parents died soon after you reached England, one right after the other.”
“My mother nursed him as long as she could before succumbing to the fever herself. They sent me to Allya’s house to keep me away.” Old familiar tears welled. “I wasn’t there.”
“Your sister is well settled?” the o
ld teacher asked.
“My parents arranged a good match for her with a physician in York. She is well.”
“But far, I think, leaving you without family.” The old man shook his head.
“Tragic for you,” Will murmured. The viscount looked lost in thought.
Adam smiled his gratitude but didn’t voice it. He started to reply to Rebbe Nahmany that Nathaniel Baumann, distant though their kinship was, treated him well, but thoughts of the viscount’s troubles distracted him. “We will get you back for your holidays, Will. You have my word to do my best.”
The viscount’s mouth quirked. “And we’ll get you to your Miss Baumann.”
“She isn't—” Adam felt his face heat.
When he didn't finish the sentence, the viscount chuckled.
A pleasant hour passed while Adam and his former teacher caught up on shared acquaintances. Adam glanced at his traveling companion several times, wondering how he reacted to this old Jewish teacher and stories of his seven children and many grandchildren. Each time, the viscount seemed genuinely interested. When Will topped one of the rabbi’s stories of a mischievous grandson with one of his own, they all laughed, and Adam relaxed.
Alma Nahmany called them into dinner. That’s when he noticed the menorah. Hanukah! He had forgotten about it in the midst of travel and worry. How many days had passed? He watched the old woman light five candles, smiling at her husband. His weary brain tried to calculate the date and failed. Somewhere in the last week or so of November.
After the blessing, they pulled out chairs, and the viscount leaned over to whisper, “You needn’t look at me as if I’m going to turn into a society beau. Family is family. I’m not that different.”
Will began to regale the young ones with stories that kept them laughing, and Adam felt a fool. A raised eyebrow and knowing look from Rebbe Nahmany didn’t help the growing realization that he had judged the viscount with prejudice.
Toward the end of the meal, one of Rebbe Nahmany’s students glanced at the old man slyly and turned to Sarah. “Have you managed to translate that passage from Bereishith?” he asked her.
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