by Kit Donner
Before continuing, Colette watched Stone until he had vacated the room. “You see, it is the Captain Kilkennen, his lordship’s friend. The man fancies himself in love with me, but I do not return his affection. I am asking you to help me write a letter to him, to tell him I am leaving and to not follow me. My English lettering is not so good, so I thought perhaps you could write it for me.”
Patience listened in rapt silence, her eyes widened in surprise. She had had no idea that Colette and Bryce’s friend had a liaison. Although she did not know the captain well, Patience thought the news would cause a tremendous blow.
“Are you positive that he loves you? Perhaps you are mistaken?”
The maid, with a cold, determined look in her eyes, shook her head. “No, he thinks to promise me marriage but I want nothing from him. Please will you help me?”
“Perhaps I might be able to handle this gently, to save his feelings,” she told Colette, then she rose from the sofa and walked to the escritoire by the window. The last thing Patience wanted was to be involved in the dissolution of their affair. However, if she could word the letter carefully, she might be able to salvage the Captain’s pride.
She wrote “Sir,” then looked expectantly at Colette across the room, waiting for the maid’s suggestions. “Can you offer me any lexis to use?”
“Oui, I have thought on this, and I would like to say that ‘honored as I am at your attentions, I cannot reciprocate your affections. I do not love you.’”
Patience’s head was bent as she wrote the letter, her heart constricted for the man who would suffer such pain at this, knowing she was part of the instrument that caused it.
Colette’s train of thought resurfaced. “After I am gone, you will know this was for the best. You understand in war, the innocent are always hurt. But you are not innocent and neither am I. What I have done and am about to do, I did for my country.”
Patience’s jaw dropped as the quill fell from her fingers. “Colette, what are you talking about? What have you done?”
Colette pursed her lips, her deep-green eyes hiding many secrets. “Let us finish writing the letter, and I will explain these things to you.”
Lately, everything concerning Colette was an enigma, a complete tangle that had no beginning or ending. Patience shook her head, then resumed transcribing.
“‘I return to France, my home. Someday you will learn the truth and be surprised. I will have surprised everyone at my success.’” Addressing Patience, she ordered, “Let us end the letter with, “‘Do not follow me, for I cannot be found. Be content that in time I am sure I will pay for my sins.’” Her voice was becoming raspier, her breathing harsher. She had walked over to the desk and stood behind Patience, watching her as she wrote.
Patience looked up to observe Colette more closely. Her face was pale as she leaned against the desk to inspect Patience’s work. She was ill, that much was certain.
Uneasily, Patience scratched the last few words, her friend from Storrington seeming more a stranger than ever.
She started up from the desk. “You are ill. I shall send for Stone, he will know what to do.” All thoughts of uncovering the mystery surrounding Colette halted temporarily. She helped the weak woman into a nearby chair and asked her, “What can I do? Perhaps some water?”
Colette put a hand to her brow, her face compressed in pain. “I simply need to rest for a moment.”
With a distressed backward glance as she left the parlor, Patience hurried to procure some water for her tormented friend.
She didn’t see Sally hiding behind the door. Sally was looking for Spring. She had enjoyed her treat and returned to collect her doll, but Spring was nowhere to be found. The little girl watched as Aunt Patience ran from the room, and decided to see why she was in such a hurry.
She peeked inside the room and saw a strange woman bending over the desk, writing with a quill. Sally shivered when she saw the wicked look on the woman’s face. It was like the face of the witches Aunt Patience had described in Sally’s fairy-tale books. Yes, the witch had frightened Aunt Patience, but she had escaped.
Sally quickly realized that if the witch caught her spying, something awful might happen to her. She hoped Spring was safe somewhere else, and Sally ran with the wind behind her as fast as her little legs would carry her, away from the witch with the evil eyes.
Patience bustled into the room with a glass and smelling salts in her hand and halted. Colette was no longer on the chair. She started to glance around the room, when she heard Colette speaking over her shoulder. “I will not be needing the water. But I would like you to come with me.” In a suddenly regained strong voice, the request was more like a command.
Slowly, Patience pivoted to confront a completely healed Colette holding a very menacing-looking pistol. “Colette, what has happened? What are you doing? I don’t understand.” Her voice shook with fear.
Colette’s eyes were as cold as a storm-tossed winter sea. “You’ll get your answers in due time. I just need you to sign your letter to Lord Londringham and then we shall depart.”
Patience stared aghast at her once-friend. “My letter?” she managed to squeak.
“Oui. His lordship will return and read the letter and know it was you who are the French spy. He will know your betrayal and will not pursue us.” Colette nudged the pistol in the direction of the desk. “Please finish, we have little time.”
Patience stared in disbelief. “You, you are the French spy Lord Londringham seeks?”
The other woman shrugged, her secret could now be told. “Yes, I have fooled everyone, including his lordship and many others. They seek a man, when it is a woman who has trumped them!” Her bold words rang in the room. She pointed the pistol at Patience’s heart, waiting.
Patience walked slowly toward the escritoire, her heart thumping with dismay and pain. She slowly signed her name “Patience Grundy.”
“Please to let me see it.” When Patience proffered the letter to Colette, the woman nodded quickly. “Magnifique.”
Colette propped the letter on the mantelpiece and instructed Patience. “I want you to walk out this door, get your cloak, lead me out the front door and down to the carriage I have waiting. Tell the butler that you and I are going for a carriage ride and should return in an hour. If you give my little secret away,” she warned Patience, indicating the pistol, “then I shall not be responsible for any injured or dead parties. They will be on your conscience if you did not do as I say. Have I made myself clear?” Her face held almost a friendly, companionable expression with a very dark smile.
Patience knew she would do whatever she had to do to get Colette out of the town house before she hurt anyone. She nodded to the woman. “No need to use that thing. I assure you I will cooperate. Please do not hurt anyone. They have done nothing,” she pleaded with Colette, who looked as if she had bloodless veins.
“Do you not remember? You wrote my words. The innocent are always hurt. It is the price of war and victory.” Colette’s voice was calm and distant.
Patience placed her trembling hands behind her back. She must keep her composure. With a blank look on her face, she disagreed with Colette’s statement. “No, it is the price of hatred they pay with their blood.” Perhaps if she could keep Colette talking, Bryce would return. But then Colette might kill him.
Colette waved her pistol in the direction of the door. “We have a long journey ahead of us. We should get started.”
That was when Patience noticed the cold, unfeeling light in the depths of Colette’s eyes trained apathetically on her. She had never noticed it before.
Patience would go with Colette, but somehow she would find a way to return to Bryce. Her former fury with him seemed insignificant compared with the danger she faced now.
Chapter 28
Standing on the stoop Lem, Sally, and Stone all watched in silence as Patience waved farewell from her friend’s carriage, her face pale white but still smiling. Stone went about his business, but the children lingere
d on the stoop.
Sally’s eyes filled with tears. “Is Aunt Patience coming back to us?”
Lem looked worried. “I dunno. I thought I ’eard the coachman mention Winchelsea, yet Patience said they were only going for a drive.”
Sally tugged on the older boy’s sleeve. “Lem, would you help me find Spring, my dolly? I put ’er outside the parlor, but she isn’t there.”
Lem sighed, knowing if he didn’t help the girl, she would have another reason to cry.
But even though the children scoured the ground floor and first floor, Spring had simply disappeared. Sally crumpled into a tiny ball on the floor of the parlor, losing two loved ones in a day was too much for the child. Lem was thankful when Martha returned from her shopping expedition. Perhaps she would know what to do.
Had there ever been a more glorious day? Bryce could hardly contain himself in his eagerness to see Patience and hold her in his arms. He wondered what she thought of his present from this morning, and wanted to shower her with more gifts only to see her lovely smile. The urgent meeting with the PM and the secretary had lasted far longer than any of them had planned, but there was no help for it when the security of their country was at stake.
The next few weeks would be difficult for them. He envisioned sending Patience to Lady Elverston to stay before their wedding. This, he told himself, would be as soon as earthly possible. Knowing Patience was to be his brought a certain lightness to his step and a grin that stopped most of the lords and MPs in their shoes, unaccustomed as they were to seeing the Earl of Londringham with anything but a dark, shadowed look on his face.
Was it his imagination or was his carriage slowing down even though he had instructed the driver to hurry? He knocked his cane on the roof and called out to Lucky in his impatience. His coachman replied that there was too much traffic on the roads, and he could do naught to speed their journey. Bryce resigned himself good-humoredly and leaned comfortably back against his seat.
He wondered what her answer would be to his marriage proposal. Hell, Patience better respond in the affirmative. He smiled, too overwhelmed with his euphoric feeling to contemplate any obstacles in their way because he knew Patience loved him. Perhaps her words had only been whispered in her sleep, but it was enough to plant hope where only despair had once lain.
Finally the carriage drew abreast of his town house. Up the steps he went and through the door. Had he ever been this close to happiness before? Stone greeted him at the door and relieved him of his hat, coat, and cane. Bryce’s warm greeting jolted his butler’s formal composure until he asked, “Would you happen to know where I might find Miss Mandeley?”
Stone hesitated, then cleared his throat. “My lord, ah…she is not at home at present.”
Bryce remained evenly calm, not yet concerned. “I suppose Miss Mandeley left with Miss Krebs for calling or shopping. Any notion on when we might expect their return?” He patted his left pocket, gratified to hear the crackle of the marriage license. He was already briskly walking up the stairs to the parlor for his port when Stone’s reply brought him to an abrupt halt.
“Miss Krebs is in the parlor waiting for you, my lord. Miss Mandeley left earlier this morning with, I believe she said an old friend, a woman by the name of Colette d’Acoeur.” Stone watched his master dash back down the stairs.
How could this be? This was presumably the same woman that Patience had gone to help last night. What more could she want with Patience? Remembering what transpired the night prior, Bryce flinched. He walked over to the butler. With his hands on his hips, his voice composed, he asked, “How long ago did you say they left?”
“This morning, around ten o’clock.”
Bryce stood silent, thinking quickly. Where could they have gone and why had Patience left with the maid? His brow furrowed, he glanced at his watch. “It is nearly twelve. Why has no one searched for them? Was no one alarmed? Why was I not notified?”
Stone nary blinked, his lordship’s anger justified. “Miss Mandeley accompanied her friend, and we saw no cause for concern. We have been expecting her imminent return.”
His butler was right, of course. Perhaps he worried needlessly, something Bryce never did. He nodded briefly at Stone’s explanation, then headed for the stairs with the hope that Martha might be able to enlighten him further.
The parlor doors flew open, causing the woman sitting on the settee to jump to her feet. Nervously, she stood waiting for his lordship to enter the room.
“Miss Krebs, do you know anything about Miss Mandeley’s disappearance?” He hoped the concern he felt didn’t reflect in his voice, for he didn’t want to frighten the poor woman. He stood in the middle of the room, waiting for answers, hoping for answers, praying for good news, if he could remember how to pray.
“I…we don’t know, my lord. Miss Mandeley had already left with her friend when I returned home from my errands. We are all very worried, even Sally and Lem. This is so unlike Miss Mandeley.”
Bryce could easily detect the distress in Patience’s companion and wanted to comfort her but knew not how. With a calmness he was far from feeling, he motioned to the settee. “Please sit down. Perhaps there is no reason for my apprehension. I’m only anxious to see her. Do you have any clue as to where she went?”
A voice from the opened doorway drew their startled attention. “Perhaps planning the denouement of England,” drawled Keegan dramatically from the edge of the room.
Bryce jumped up and crossed the room to his friend and welcomed him in. “I had not learned of your return. What has happened to you and what say you about Miss Mandeley?”
Keegan slumped into a nearby wing chair and brushed his forehead wearily. “I have been one step behind you all day, trying to find you. A most difficult task I am relieved to see completed.” He looked up at Bryce standing near the settee, watching him closely. “We need to talk. Alone.” He pointedly stared in Martha’s direction.
“Miss Krebs, would you please have Stone send up some brandy?”
The solemn woman nodded to Bryce before quickly quitting the room, silent across the Oriental rug.
After she had closed the doors, enveloping the men in privacy, Bryce turned his attention on his friend. “We were not expecting you for some time. You have a lot of explaining to do. I don’t care where you start, just make it brief, and tell me what has happened to you and what you know about Miss Mandeley.” He began pacing the room as Keegan delved into his tale.
With a sigh, the captain told Bryce, “To begin with, when I stayed at Paddock Green earlier this summer, I received my latest orders, coded, of course, for my next run on the Valiant. It was not until I had made it to port that I discovered my papers were missing. I wasn’t too alarmed, thinking I had thrown them in the fire with other documents that needed to be destroyed. Also, like a sapscull, I believed that if anyone did happen on these papers, that the code was virtually unbreakable. To my gravest shock, I learned differently.” He held up his bandaged hand.
Bryce stared in shock. “What happened?”
“After a week of sailing along the coast, we were in position near Bologne. We hoped to learn more about Napoleon’s flotilla and a possible timeframe of his invasion. Suddenly, we were bombarded with cannon fire as if they were anticipating our arrival. Although we returned their gunfire, we were easily outgunned by the French ships. We managed to escape in the dark hours before morning, but not until after we had sustained many losses, and I injured my hand.”
Bryce’s eyes darkened hearing his friend’s misfortune, and he shook his head. Unfortunately, his experience in the earlier war with France had prepared him for this type of news.
“You think someone at Paddock Green obtained your papers, broke the code, and warned the French?”
Keegan nodded slowly and moved uncomfortably in his seat. “I do.”
“Who?” his tone quiet and authoritative.
A brief pause. “Someone who calls herself Miss Patience Mandeley.” Bryce froze, h
is features hardened into a statue, his breath held, his heart barely beating.
He shook his head. “I don’t believe you.”
“I knew you wouldn’t. But I discovered, while on this last mission, that the French woman spy you had dealings with, the one you suspect lured your brother to his death, left France several months ago. In fact, not long after the incident last November. My sources told me that she had traveled to Storrington before arriving at the Mop Fair in Winchelsea seeking a position in a certain Englishman’s household.”
Bryce collapsed onto the settee. “I simply don’t believe it. You must have made a mistake. Your sources must have made an error. I tell you it is not the same woman.” He thrust his fingers through his hair, grief showing clearly on his face.
“Who of your acquaintances may I speak to? Something is terribly wrong. I am telling you that the French spy who killed my brother is not Miss Mandeley, who should be home directly. I prefer to hear from her before I make my judgment.”
Stone entered the room carrying glasses and a brandy decanter on a silver tray, which he placed on the sideboard before he was dismissed.
Bryce rose and strode across the room to pour himself and Keegan each a glass of brandy. After handing Keegan his glass, Bryce walked over to the fireplace, staring at the dying embers. When he looked up, he discovered the letter on the mantelpiece addressed to him, and quickly broke the seal. After skimming the few lines, he let the vellum drop to the floor. Gone was the renewed hope he had known ever so briefly. What further proof did he need of Patience’s clever duplicity and his own imprudence?
My Dear,
Honored as I am at your attentions, I cannot reciprocate your affections. I do not love you. After I am gone, you will know this was for the best. You understand in war, the innocent are always hurt. But you are not innocent and neither am I. What I have done and am about to do, I did for my country. I return to France, my home. Someday you will learn the truth and be surprised. I will have surprised everyone at my success. Do not follow me, for I cannot be found. Be content that in time I am sure I will pay for my sins.
