The Duchess

by Bertrice Small

“Perhaps,” Allegra said thoughtfully, “they belonged to some of the émigrés from France. Or, mayhap there are others who do what we are going to do to help out their family and friends. I have heard a rumor while we have been in London about some fellow who is known as the Scarlet Pimpernel. He is supposed to go into France to rescue innocents.”

  “It is comforting to know that there are others as foolish as we are,” the duke replied dryly.

  “It is our English sense of fair play,” Allegra said. “One simply does not execute a king, although I seem to recall that we English did so once ourselves. But we did not conduct a reign of terror then against everyone who disagreed with us.”

  “No,” the duke remarked, “we just went to war against one another. Innocents were killed in that conflict as well.”

  “But that was almost two hundred years ago, Quinton,” Allegra noted. “These are modern times. People should not be so savage today.”

  “But they are, and so we will go to France, and attempt to bring back the Bellinghams’ niece and her little family,” Quinton Hunter said.

  Honor and Hawkins had packed their master and mistress’s trunks. While it might be considered a bit odd to visit Brighton in early March, it was the best excuse that they could think of for their absence from London. Charles Trent had been told of their mission, and while he did not approve, there was little he could do but to see that the duke and duchess had the funds that they would need for their journey. He even included a bag of French coins.

  “You may need to resort to bribery,” he said. His disapproval was most obvious. “What am I going to tell your father?” he demanded of Allegra.

  “Tell him nothing,” she said quietly. “We will be back in England as quickly as we can, and I do not choose to fret him. Aunt Mama has not been well this winter, and he is worried enough.”

  “Tell me your plan,” her father’s secretary asked.

  She quickly explained.

  He nodded. “It should work, but you cannot linger. Go in, get the lay of the land, retrieve the Bellinghams’ kin, and get out as quickly as you can. There will be less danger for you that way. Do you understand, Your Grace? These charades you are playing at are terribly, terribly dangerous.”

  “I know, Charles,” she said, using his Christian name, which she rarely did. “But I believe we can do this, and the Bellinghams have been so good to us all.”

  “I understand your reasoning, Your Grace, but if anything happened to any of you, it would put a terrible burden of guilt on the Bellinghams. They are not young, and this situation with their niece has distressed them greatly. Remember, your first duty is to your husband and his family. If the choice is between your safety, and the d’Aumont family, you must think of yourself first.”

  “You worry far too much, Charles,” Allegra replied, and then standing on her tiptoes she kissed his cheek, causing him to blush a bright beet red. “We will be back before you realize we have been gone at all,” she promised him. Then Allegra went out the door to join her husband in their traveling coach.

  The sun was just coming up as they cleared the city and took the road to Brighton. They would meet up with their friends at an inn there known as The King’s Arms. The trip, along what was called the New Road, was the most direct to Brighton, and in the best condition. Mr. Trent had arranged for four changes of horses along their route. Consequently their trip took only five hours.

  The King’s Arms was located on the harbor. It was a large comfortable establishment, popular with travelers, although the difficulties in France had taken away some of their business. Mr. Trent had arranged for a suite of rooms for the duke, and large bedrooms for the earl and Lord Walworth. All were located next to one another in a separate wing of the inn. It had been decided that Hawkins would remain behind to watch over the luggage. The rooms had been paid for in advance. It was more than likely that they would need immediate shelter upon their return for the Comtesse d’Aumont and her children. They would also not want to cause any disturbance upon their arrival that would draw attention to themselves. Brighton had its share of spies, or so they had been told.

  The landlord hurried forward to greet them personally. “Welcome, Your Grace,” he said bowing to the duke. “Your friends have only just arrived. Come in! Come in! Your rooms are ready for you.”

  “You have been told,” Quinton Hunter said in his most superior and ducal voice, “that we will retain our rooms while we cruise on the Earl of Aston’s yacht? My man, Hawkins, will remain behind. You’ll see that he’s fed? Hawkins don’t like the sea, do you Hawkins?”

  “No, Yer Grace, I don’t,” the valet said as he had been told, nodding vehemently.

  “He may have ale with his supper, but don’t go allowing him to get drunk,” the duke instructed the innkeeper. “Hawkins does like his ale, don’t you, Hawkins?”

  “I do, Yer Grace,” the valet said enthusiastically with a grin.

  “Of course, Your Grace. Everything will be just as you require, Your Grace. You needn’t worry.” The innkeeper bowed again, then led them to their suite.

  There they found their friends awaiting them.

  “Ohh, this is so exciting!” Caroline said.

  “Do you have the costumes?” Eunice inquired.

  “Yes,” Allegra answered her, “and when you see them, you will not believe it. Everything is so real. Honor is coming with us.”

  “Your maid?” Eunice and Caroline spoke in unison.

  “Honor speaks quite good French,” Allegra explained, “and as a servant, will know more about the common folk than we do.”

  “How amusing that your Honor should speak another tongue,” Caroline said. “Why it is almost like having one’s own French maid,” she giggled. “Even if she does come from Worcester.”

  “Can we see our costumes?” Eunice asked.

  “Honor, get the little bag with our special clothing, and let us show Lady Walworth and Lady Bainbridge,” Allegra instructed her maid.

  The bag was brought, opened, and Honor pulled out a skirt, a sash, and one of the mobcaps. Caroline snatched the headpiece, and pulled it over her curls. Eunice wrapped the sash about her narrow waist. They stared at each other and burst out laughing.

  “This is not a jest,” Allegra scolded them. “If we are caught we could all face the guillotine. These revolutionaries are not respecters of nationality. Being English will not protect us. Are you two certain that you want to go? As Quinton keeps reminding me, this is a dangerous game that we are playing at. We must travel eight miles from the coast to arrive at the d’Aumont estate. Then we must gain custody of the countess and her children from whoever has them. And finally we have to travel back to the coast without being caught, reach the yacht, and sail back to England without attracting the suspicions of anyone. I will not think badly of either of you if you have changed your minds.”

  “No,” Caroline said. “She is my cousin.”

  “No,” said Eunice. “I will admit we are both nervous about this undertaking, but not once has either of us considered crying off, Allegra.”

  “But how are we going to get to the countess?” Caroline asked.

  “We shall be bloodthirsty peasant ladies from Harfleur who have come to bring the countess and her children before the revolutionary tribunal for justice. The Committee for Public Safety in the town has sent us to fetch the woman, Citizeness d’Aumont, and her brats. If the people holding the countess and her children attempt to stop us, we shall become very aggressive and threatening toward them. France is ruled by fear. The mere threat that her captors are not concurring with the local authorities will bring about their immediate cooperation, I am certain,” Allegra told her friends. “Remember, despite their revolutionary talk, these people are used to obeying their superiors. We shall have to be very convincing, however.”

  While the women continued to speak among themselves, the gentlemen were also making their plans.

  “When do we sail?” the duke asked the Earl of Ast
on.

  “Captain Grant suggests we leave on the evening’s tide. It is just before midnight. The weather is good, the winds fresh. If it all holds, we should reach France the day after tomorrow.”

  “Is he familiar with the territory into which we are venturing?” Quinton Hunter asked his friend.

  Marcus Bainbridge smiled. “He knows a hidden cove right near the town of Harfleur. We will anchor there.”

  “And just how is he aware of such an ideal anchorage?” Lord Walworth wondered aloud.

  “Damn me, Adrian, where do you think that fine French wine you like so much comes from?” the earl chuckled. “You surely don’t think the damned French can cut off an Englishman’s supply of good wine? When I don’t need the yacht, and frankly nowadays, I don’t use it a lot, I allow Grant to make little trips for his own amusement. If he brings me back some wine, so much the better.”

  “In other words, Marcus, your captain is smuggling,” Lord Walworth said. “This situation becomes more dangerous by the moment. If your yacht is recognized by the authorities, could we not all be in terrible peril? I do not like it at all.”

  “Grant has only done a wee bit of smuggling, Dree, and he has never been caught. Not even pursued. The Froggies are too busy killing each other and destroying their society to worry about an English captain out for a bit of wine. It is perfectly safe.”

  “If this were not Caroline’s relation,” Lord Walworth said, “I should not allow it.”

  “You are free to remain here,” the duke told his friend.

  “No. I value my marriage too much, Quint. Caroline would never forgive me, I fear,” Lord Walworth said, resigned.

  “You’ll feel better after a good supper,” the earl told his friend. “I always feel better after a good supper.”

  “You’ll become as stout as Prinny one day,” the duke teased his friend.

  “I need my food, Quint. Eunice may look like a cool and elegant little countess, but she’s a wildcat in our marriage bed. I need my strength to keep up with her.”

  “What we need is heirs,” Lord Walworth said. “After this little adventure, if the almighty God allows us to return to England unscathed, we had best settle down to getting ’em. I want a son I can take up on my horse with me. I want several for that matter. One for the title, one for the church, one for the army, and one for the navy.”

  “What does Caroline say?” the duke asked dryly.

  “Why, she agrees with me, of course,” Lord Walworth said. “Why wouldn’t she? Damn me, Quint, only a year ago we were discussing finding ourselves wives, and look at us now. Old married men, by God!”

  His friends chuckled, and then the duke said seriously, “I hope we live to be old married men, lads. If it were not for the Bellinghams I should not be here in Brighton today, but rather on our way home to Hunter’s Lair. I’m sorry Ocky can’t be with us, but Sirena will whelp her young ’un any day now.”

  “He’s going to be mighty jealous when we tell him what we did,” chortled the earl. “Ocky has always liked a good adventure, and this one, gentlemen, is likely to be our last.”

  “I think,” Lord Walworth replied, “that from now on I can do without adventure. I’ll be happy to settle down to a comfortable and dull existence at the hall with Caroline and our children.”

  “Agreed,” the earl and the duke said in unison.

  The sea breezes of Sussex’s coast had drawn the fashionable crowds to Brighton since the mid-1780s when Prinny arrived to spend a summer. Three years later he had purchased a simple farmhouse on the west side of the Steyne. Of course, unable to restrain himself, he had hired an architect and remodeled his dwelling into what became known as The Royal Pavilion. For the next thirty years Prinny continued to remodel, expand, and renovate his Pavilion. Fashionable London followed him to the seaside each year. The height of the season was always on August twelfth, the prince’s birthday.

  Early March was not a time when fashionable people visited Brighton. Most of the houses on the Steyne were shut up tight. The two chief hotels, Old Ship and Castle Inn, were open, but barely. The theatre on the New Road with its large gallery and two tiers of boxes was closed for the season. The race track was deserted. Very few fashionables were in residence except those too poor to keep a London house, or those who claimed they preferred living at the seaside for their health. The King’s Arms was not a watering place for the ton, but their brief stay there would not attract the attention of any who by chance might know or recognize the three couples, and wonder why on earth they were here in Brighton at this gloomy time of year.

  Hawkins pulled Honor aside just before they left. “Now, listen, old girl,” he said to her, “don’t go taking any chances for some foreign lady you don’t even know. I want you coming back safe and sound.”

  “And just why is that, Peter Hawkins?” Honor demanded of him.

  “You know why,” he muttered, shuffling his feet.

  “No, I don’t,” she replied.

  “Don’t we have an understanding, Honor Cooper?” he asked her.

  “If we do, you didn’t tell me,” she shot back.

  “Well, we do, damnit, and I don’t want you getting yourself killed by those Froggies,” Hawkins said fiercely, and then he kissed her hard upon her lips.

  Honor grew pink with pleasure, but then she said, “Now, don’t you go confusing me, Hawkins. I haven’t said we have an arrangement, but then I won’t say we don’t. I’ll be back.” She gave him a kiss in return, and hurried out of the inn after the others.

  The earl’s sailing yacht was anchored at the end of a long stone quay. It was not a large vessel, but neither was it small. It stretched seventy feet from bow to stern, was twenty-three feet in width, and one hundred eighty tons. Although it was a pleasure craft, it carried several small cannons. Its sails were ketch-rigged. There was a sumptuous day cabin beneath the poop deck where they would shelter from the elements.

  “Welcome aboard, your lordship, Your Grace, my lord,” Captain Grant greeted them. “Bobby will show you to the cabin. We’ll be under way shortly.” He bowed to the gentlemen and to the ladies.

  “I keep a small crew aboard,” the earl said. “This is Bobby, the cabin boy. He’s a good lad, aren’t you, Bobby?”

  “Yes, my lord, I try to be,” came the earnest reply. The boy, about twelve years of age, hurried ahead of them, opening the door to the day cabin where they would be staying. “There’s wine, and fresh biscuits, my lord.” He ushered them inside. Then with a tug on his cap, he hurried back out again.

  “Where are we going to sleep, Marcus?” the Countess of Aston demanded of her husband. “It’s all very beautiful, but hardly cozy.”

  “It isn’t meant to be, my darling. I used to race Seagull before we married. Quint, Dree, and Ocky have all been aboard before. You will sleep here, in these bunks hidden behind the elegant paneling.” Pressing a hidden button with his hand, the earl smiled at their astonishment as the paneling slid back to reveal two tiers of narrow bunks.

  “They are not very big,” Eunice noted.

  “You’ll be able to stretch out and rest, my dear wife,” the earl assured her.

  “There are seven of us, and only six of those narrow little berths,” the countess noted.

  “I shall get my rest on the settee,” the earl told her.

  “Very well,” Eunice agreed. “I suppose we should all go to bed now. There seems to be nothing else to do.”

  Wrapping themselves in their capes and cloaks, they settled themselves down for the night. Allegra awoke at one point to feel the roll of the sea beneath the vessel. It was very quiet. She could hear the wind outside just faintly. She had never been on the sea, and she wasn’t certain if she was frightened or not, but everyone else seemed quite peaceful, except for some snoring. So she fell back asleep.

  The next day dawned gray and damp. A light rain fell, but the winds were steady, and the seas relatively calm. The Seagull seemed to skip along the waves easily. Bobby broug
ht them a platter of eggs, ham, and buttered brown bread. They ate gingerly, waiting to see if their food settled, but it did. They spent the day playing cards for imaginary stakes, except for Honor and the duke. Allegra’s maid went over each garment Madame Paul had supplied, making certain every piece was ready to don come the morning. The duke walked the deck of the yacht as he considered what they were attempting to do for the hundredth time. It was madness, he knew, and yet friendship demanded that they help the countess and her children.

  Captain Grant joined him at one point, saying, “If the winds keep up, Your Grace, we should anchor some time tonight, late.”

  “How far is it into the town?” Quinton Hunter asked.

  “Only a mile and a bit, Your Grace.”

  “You know the town?”

  “Aye,” the captain nodded.

  “We’ll need a horse and a cart,” the duke told him.

  “I know a man,” the captain offered, “but it will cost, and you must pay in French coin, not English.”

  “Agreed. You will go with us?”

  “Nay,” the captain said. “It is better that you not be seen in Harfleur, Your Grace. These days everyone watches, and strangers are easily and quickly ferreted out.”

  “You are known then,” the duke noted.

  “I am. I will fetch the horse and cart. My friend will think it is to meet the man who helps me smuggle certain items. I always leave the horse and cart at a set location afterward so I am not seen. Let me make the arrangements, Your Grace. The cove where we will anchor is just below the road you must take to reach the Countess d’Aumont. The d’Aumonts are well known in the region for their charity. The people were devastated when the count was executed in Paris. It would not have happened here. The man with the horse and cart has a sister who labors on the d’Aumont farm. When the earl told me who you were attempting to rescue, I was glad that I could be of help to you.”

  “Thank you, Captain Grant,” the duke replied.

  “I will ask my friend what he knows regarding the countess’s arrest,” Captain Grant said.

  “No, do not,” the duke advised. “This man is willing to deal with you because it puts money in his pocket in particularly hard times, but he is a loyal Frenchman first. If you attempt to compromise his loyalties he may turn on you. Let him, as you have earlier suggested, believe you are merely here to smuggle wine and other goods as you usually do. Do not arouse his suspicions by even mentioning the Comtesse d’Aumont.”