A Whisper Of Destiny

by Monica Barrie

  “The captain will be with you in a moment.” Herz smiled and left the room, closing the door. Almost immediately, the door opened again to admit Sean’s final contact. He was a little shorter than Sean and had dark wavy hair. His deeply set brown eyes shone with intelligence and his face, although pleasant enough, was set in determined lines.

  “Monsieur Rouger,” he said with a French accent, “I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you too much, but I thought you would prefer a meeting as soon as possible.” Sean stood, reaching out to take the man’s hand in greeting. He felt not only the hard pressure of a hand inside a hand, but a certain strength that flowed from the man to him.

  “No inconvenience at all.”

  The man walked to the desk, picked up the humidor and offered it to Sean. After they selected their cigars, Sean’s host reached into his waistcoat and removed a silver clipper, which he extended to Sean. The two of them lit their cigars, and smoked quietly for a moment.

  “What exactly,” the man asked, switching from French to almost perfect English, “does your President Madison want from Jean Lafitte?” The man smiled and shook his head. “After all, I have been labeled smuggler, pirate and privateersman. What could such a great man want from me?”

  Sean smiled and reached into his inside pocket to extract the note from Commodore Levy. “Why have you never raided any shipping other than Spain’s?” he asked pointedly.

  “That is a question worthy of your father,” Lafitte laughed. Without waiting for a response, he leaned back in his chair and began to answer it.

  “My ancestors, unlike yours, come from Spain. We are called Sephardic. During the past several centuries, the Spaniards, in the name of religion, have waged a war of genocide against us. They have done their best to rid the country of Jews and all others who do not believe in the Catholic religion.”

  “The organization you seek to use to help your country was formed hundreds of years ago to assist those unfortunate Jews and others, including Gypsies, to find asylum in a country that would permit them the practice of their religion.”

  “In France, although we are not greatly loved, we are tolerated because we have proven ourselves invaluable. I am doing two things for myself, my people, and the country that has taken us in. First, I do all in my power to maintain the safety and the rights of France. Second, I fight no other enemy except Spain to repay the deaths of my people and my family. My father was the last surviving male of my line; everyone else was killed. Now it is up to me to continue my line, if there is to be any memory of my family in the coming generations.”

  “Also, my young friend, do not mistake that it is only Spain that wages a war on those who do not pray or believe as they do. Throughout the world, we are hated. We have had to survive against inestimable odds and against the irrational hatred of biased peoples. That is another reason our organization was formed. We protect the people of our religion no matter where they are. We find them sanctuary in the more tolerant countries of the world.”

  “But I would impress upon you one important fact. Most people who do not know us well, do not understand that we are willing to search, to act and to help all peoples. Many think we do this for money or other material rewards, do not make the same mistake, Mr. Rouger. We are, all of us, fiercely loyal to the countries we call home. There is a difference, to us, between country and God; we can have both and are able to give to both equally. Never ask us to betray our country, as we would never ask it of another.” When Lafitte stopped speaking, he stared intensely at his guest.

  A deep respect formed within Sean—not just for this man, but for what he had told him about his people. He understood Commodore Uriah Levy better now.

  “Brandy?” Lafitte went to a cabinet and took out two glasses and a bottle.

  “It would be welcome,” Sean nodded, and his host poured the drinks. As they sat sipping the amber liquid silently, Lafitte remembered the letter Sean had given him. He opened it and read it quickly, then threw back his head and laughed.

  “Your commodore is a funny man.” when Sean looked puzzled, he continued. “This secret letter—I imagine he told you to guard it with your life?”

  Sean nodded.

  “It is a letter of congratulations on my niece’s recent marriage. It wishes her and her husband a long life.”

  Sean smiled, but was disturbed. Why would Levy send him here without the president’s written requests?

  “I might add that the congratulations were merely our way of proving the authenticity of this letter. What Uriah actually wrote was that you could be trusted completely, and he confirmed your own words that you are acting with full authority of your President Madison.” Lafitte paused momentarily. “And now we discuss business, yes?”

  “Yes. I have an urgent matter that must be attended to after we have settled the business I was sent on,” Sean said.

  “A matter of the heart,” the Frenchman sighed and quickly held up a hand to ward off Sean’s protest. “I do not mean it as a joke. I already know what you are here for, and I am prepared to deal with you.”

  “I am listening.” Sean looked him over, trying to understand this man without underestimating him.

  “Your president wants to know if he should again raise the Nonintercourse Act against Britain, but this time exempting France, yes?”

  Sean nodded in confirmation.

  “War is inevitable,” Lafitte went on. “Britain will never let go its hold over your country. France may not be your best ally, especially a France led by Napoleon, but she is a better ally than Britain. Do it. It will help your country.”

  “The president thinks it’s a trick on Napoleon’s part,” returned Sean.

  Lafitte’s keen gaze searched his face. “Between you and myself, no other?”

  Sean paused to make a decision he knew he must stick by. Then he nodded his head slowly.

  “Good!” declared Lafitte. “It is a trick. A political maneuver. One that is designed to make you an ally of France and to rid both America and France of the British mania for world conquest.”

  “Is Napoleon so much better?” asked Sean, taken back by Lafitte’s honesty.

  “No,” he admitted frankly, “but he will not remain in power forever, and France will always be here. In England, one single family controls all, and their goals are always the same. Enslave the other countries to England’s powers, enrich England at the others’ expense!”

  “What you’re saying is that although Napoleon is trying to manipulate us for his own purposes, we should follow his lead?”

  “Yes!” said the privateersman.

  “I thank you for your advice. I will tell the president what you have said.” Now that he had the information for which he had been sent, Sean decided to change tactics. A marble and onyx board sat on the small table that stood near his chair. The pieces were already in position.

  “You play?” he inquired.

  “I am the best!” declared Lafitte confidently.

  Sean looked at him thoughtfully, drawing his glance away from the backgammon board. “The president asked me to offer you a commission to fight for us in America, if this ‘inevitable war’ comes to us. If I relay your advice to go ahead with the Nonintercourse Act, will you join us?” Sean waited as he saw surprise flash through the Frenchman’s eyes.

  “You get the information you want, do not discuss payment and then ask for personal service also!” Lafitte laughed heartily. “You should be a politician, Monsieur Rouger, not a military man.”

  “That is not an answer,” retorted Sean.

  Lafitte looked at Sean for a long moment and then shrugged. “What are you offering?” he asked boldly.

  “What you seek. Sanctuary for as many people as you need, whenever you need it. Please,” he pleaded, “help us defeat the English.”

  “That is a mighty promise. Can you guarantee it, even after the elections when you may have a new president?”

  “The president is willing to have a presidential or
der written granting your people all of what I’ve promised. Commodore Levy, too, has said it will be done.”

  Lafitte’s eyes darted to the backgammon board. “Are you good at the game?”

  “Few are my equal,” stated Sean truthfully. He was lucky with the dice and his mind was acute in moves of planning and strategy.

  “If you beat me, I will accept a commission, if and when there is a war,” Lafitte declared. “If I win, I accept the presidential order and you deliver the advisement, as stated.”

  “Agreed,” said Sean.

  Each man placed one die into his cup, rattled it and cast it onto the board. Sean rolled a six, Lafitte a five.

  “Well thrown,” commented Lafitte. Sean rolled again and the dice read six-one. He quickly, almost as if he were not thinking, moved into a blocking position. Lafitte acknowledged this strategy with another nod as he rolled his dice. Six-one. Lafitte moved to the identical position opposite Sean.

  “It looks as if we have an interesting game brewing, my young friend,” commented Lafitte as he watched Sean toss the dice again. “A very interesting game...”

  CHAPTER 22

  “En guard!” exclaimed the young, blond man, raising his sword. His opponent did likewise and the clash of metal rang loudly in the deserted stable.

  The duelers’ movements were fast paced and the continuing ring of metal against metal resounded like a church bell gone mad. One parrying, the other thrusting, their breathing loud and ragged as the exertion of the duel wore on the two.

  Suddenly, one sword slid along the other, making a rasping, chilling sound before it stopped. With a flick of the wrist, one fencer snapped the other’s sword into the air. It arced high and fell onto the dirt floor.

  The winner proudly held the tip of the sword against the other’s heart before stepping back and bowing with a grand flourish.

  “Excellent!” declared William.

  “Thank you. But it is my teacher who must take credit.”

  “I do,” joked William as he retrieved his rapier. “I’ve never seen anyone learn to handle a sword in so short a time.” There was respect in his voice. Kira smiled flirtatiously at him. She had known from the minute that William had lifted her hand to his lips that first evening that he was infatuated with her. And although she did not overly encourage his attentions, she both wanted and needed a friend; William was a prime candidate and perfect for the job.

  “More?” he asked, watching her face intently.

  “I think I’ve had enough for today,” she admitted. “I’d like to rest now.”

  “Will you be having tea with Mother?”

  “Oh... I suppose.” She really didn’t think she could bear another tea, but she knew how hurt William would be if she refused. He was a very sensitive young man.

  “Wonderful, Mother does love having tea with you. Before you came, she would dress and have tea by herself or with me. You’ve made her very happy.” Kira smiled, even though she felt like crying. Yes, Angela Cornwall had become friendly—to a point—but Kira was still a prisoner. It had been almost two weeks since she’d arrived, and in that time her imprisonment weighed heavily on her mind. True, she did have unrestricted freedom on the estate, but even when she rode alone there was always someone within eyesight.

  “Shall we go back to the house?” she asked William. “I must bathe if I’m to have tea with your mother. After the exercise, I imagine I smell like a horse.”

  “No,” contradicted William, “you smell like a beautiful flower.”

  “Oh no!” laughed Kira lightly, as she ran from the stables, escaping William’s infatuation as much as to cut through the early fall rain.

  They reached the rear entrance of the house together and William opened the door for her. “I’ll see you at dinner,” he said to her before she reached the stairs.

  “Of course. Thank you for the lesson.”

  “It was a pleasure.” He looked into her beautiful face, his crystal-gray eyes scorching in their intensity.

  Once in her rooms, Kira warned herself that she must hold back with William lest he take her smiles too much to hear, took off the clothing she had been wearing while Polly filled the tub, and went into the boudoir and then into the bath.

  Sitting in the tub of hot water, and soaking the muscles she’d used so hard these past weeks, she lay her head on the hard rim of the tub and thought about the last few days.

  It had been on the night of the first dinner with Angela and William that she’d realized she had an ally. He had proven to be an excellent conversationalist and seemed years older than his eighteen years.

  The dinner had been enjoyable and just before she’d returned to her room, William offered to join her on her morning ride. She’d accepted instantly and was only partially aware of the flash of disapproval that swept across Angela Cornwall’s face.

  Their friendship grew from that day. William talked about his life and his schooling and he explained that his stepfather, Stephan, was training him to take over the reins of one of the shipping company offices. Whenever his stepfather was away, William was empowered to handle business matters. Stephan, Kira learned, would return at the end of the week.

  When their conversation turned to sport, William confessed that he was very interested in a variety of things—hunting, riding and fencing.

  “Fencing?” Kira murmured as an idea began to take form in her mind.

  “I love to fence. I’ve been at it since I was nine,” he admitted with a smile. “That’s the one thing I miss here. There are no dueling partners.”

  “There’s me!” she said excitedly. “Teach me! I would love to learn. Then you could have a partner.”

  “You’re a woman,” he said sadly, shaking his head.

  “Does that make me any less a person? I know I would be a match for you, sir, if you’re man enough to try me out!” As Kira spoke, she lowered her voice, hoping to use both logic and her femininity in this fight.

  “Mother will object,” he argued.

  “No, she won’t. I’ll see to that,” she promised.

  “Tomorrow?” An eager smile broke on his lips, enhancing the beauty of his face.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Now, I’ll race you to the stables.” And as she spoke, she gave her horse its head, laughing at the wind that whipped at her face.

  They started the lessons the next day and Kira was surprised that there were no objections.

  She suspected that as long as she pretended contentment, both Stephan and Angela would not object too much.

  The days passed quickly, filled as they were with rides, lessons and Angela’s constant teas. But the nights were different. The nights were long and lonely. Kira’s body ached to feel Sean next to her again and to continue the awakening he had started; she yearned to touch his lips and to make love to him. What made it worse was this sensation of being spied upon. She would wake each night, knowing someone was watching but unable to find the person. She prayed Sean would come soon.

  A sudden chill passed over Kira. She pulled herself upright in the now lukewarm bathwater. When she left the tub and took the large towel to dry herself, she felt the unseen eyes on her back. She whirled to face an empty room.

  Stop it! Stop this foolishness! She shook her head and walked to the closet to choose her outfit for tea, but remained uneasy. The closet seemed to have something to do with this feeling of being watched. But when she searched inside, all she found was her clothing. As she picked out a dress, there was a knock at the servant’s door.

  “Come in,” she called. Polly entered and made a quick curtsey.

  “No need to dress, Mum. Lady Cornwall said to tell you she was indisposed, and tea would be cancelled. She’s having tea and cakes sent up here now.”

  “Does that mean there will be no regular dinner?” asked Kira, as she chose a simple day dress and started to put it on.

  “No, Mum, dinner will be in the regular dining room,” said Polly, as she helped Kira with the dress. Wh
en Polly left her and the kitchen servant had arrived with the tea cart, Kira, deep in thought, carried her cup to her bedroom window. What would keep Angela Cornwall from her special daily activity? Not once since her arrival here had Angela missed a tea. Several times, though, Kira had been ordered to have her dinner in her room because, she was told, Stephan was entertaining and her presence was not required.

  Kira smiled at the phrase, ‘not required’. Most likely it was because of someone whom they did not want Kira to see or business that they did not want her to hear.

  She had tried many times to listen in at her cousin’s office, but she was never successful. A constant flow of servants or business associates passed through the halls, and Kira was always too visible to eavesdrop.

  She was at the window when a jagged bolt of lightning split the sky, followed seconds later by an ear-shattering peal of thunder. Kira wrapped her arms around her shoulders and looked for a break in the heavy clouds, but saw none. Polly had told her that sometimes these fall storms lasted for several days.

  The thought of being cooped up for even a day or two was dispiriting. She sat on the red velvet sofa and sipped at her tea, thinking again of Sean and of her loneliness. Four more days, she promised herself, four more days. If Sean did not arrive, she would try to escape.

  <><><>

  The waves crashing against the shoreline were definitive proof that Sean could not leave France that night. The innkeeper Herz had arranged with Lafitte for a boat to steal across the channel and deposit Sean near Portsmouth, where a horse would be ready for him.

  Wrapping his thick wool cape around himself, the did his best to keep out as much of the chilly rain as possible while accepting the truth of the matter, that he would have to wait until tomorrow night.

  Discouraged, he made his way to the port. The captain of the sloop that had brought him on the first leg of his journey was waiting for him.

  When he reached the inn where the captain was dining, Sean scribbled a note and had it brought to the man at his table.

  After a few minutes the captain came to find him in the outer room.