Ethan cleared his throat as he rocked back on his heels and straightened into what amounted to parade rest. “I beg your pardon, Miss Winthrop,” he said, very stiff-necked and formal. “Believe me, what I was thinking is quite impossible.”
I made a gesture of dismissal. “I’m sorry to have alarmed you, Captain Delaney,” I said, faltering over his name. “Perhaps I should’ve told you I have these little spells every once in a while. They’re nothing you need concern yourself about.”
He eyed me doubtfully. “Are you sure? You looked…strange. I remember Queen Charlotte was rather bothered over your health yesterday. Are you certain you feel quite well?”
“Positive,” I said. Every man I met, in this life or any other, thought me strange. Why should this one be any different, just because I wanted him to be?
“I have these spells when I start thinking hard,” I lied. “And that is what I was doing, thinking hard, trying to devise some kind of plan to get your cousin Jonathan out of prison.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Really? You didn’t look as if you were thinking. You looked… Well, I’ll take your word for it. Tell me, did your spell provide you with a surefire plan?”
“I don’t know about surefire,” I said. “One or two ideas did occur to me, however. Unless…you already have the escape all set up, don’t you? I don’t have to wrack my brain.”
“I’m willing to listen to new ideas,” he admitted.
That surprised me. “Really?” I asked, on a rising note. “Hmm.
Come to think of it, I have a distinct memory of you telling me you have all in hand and that I don’t need to worry.”
“I lied.” He winced, as if suddenly uncomfortable. “I must confess every plan I’ve thought up seems only halfway workable. I’m willing to consider almost anything in the way of a new idea. I have only one caveat. Your ideas must not involve shooting anyone, just because the queen gave me that set of pistols. The guards are our countrymen, you know, as honorable servants of the king and queen as we are.”
Somewhat affronted, I said, “I hadn’t even given the guns a thought, beyond being a circumstance of last resort. No. My thought is just to practice what you might call a little sleight of hand. Creating an illusion of one person being in two places at once…or do I mean two people being in one place…anyway, no gratuitous violence. It should be easy.”
I’ve had lots of practice, I added, though only in my own mind.
“There’s just one thing…”
“Yes?” he asked on an encouraging note.
“You refer to Jonathan as ‘my cousin, Jonathan.’ The queen refers to him as ‘my grandson, Jonathan.’ What I want to know is if Jonathan has a last name.”
Ethan choked on what was almost a laugh.
“It’s not Hanover,” he said. “In case you were wondering. No, it’s Harriman. A good, solid English name.”
“English?” An answering gurgle of laughter welled up in me. “I’ll wager he doesn’t think so. I’ll bet he thinks the name is American.”
Chapter 11
Further discussion brought Ethan around to my opinion. “You could be right,” he finally conceded. “I doubt my cousin has any reason to like being saddled with an English name.”
And that was the last concept of mine he did agree with for quite some time. He didn’t appear to think much of my plan—or perhaps I should call it a non-plan—for a prison break. I’ll confess I was just as glad Jonathan Harriman didn’t have to count on me. Ethan scoffed at all of the ideas I mentioned.
“Too easy,” he said. “You’re basing your battle plan upon a supposition grounded on too little evidence. It’ll never work.”
“It might,” I said. Not strong enough. Truth be told, my plan sounded abysmally weak, even to me. “It will work. You said when we first met that once I arrived on the scene, the guards ignored you. And before I got there, all they looked at was your coat. I remember wondering if you were putting them to some kind of test—only I thought maybe you were an officer checking the royal security system.”
“Security system, is it?” he asked with a puzzled expression before shrugging the terminology away. I could tell he’d never heard guard duty called that before. “Two guards, Miss Winthrop. And you can’t risk three lives on an observation made of only two people. Believe me, not all soldiers are the dullards the queen’s guard turned out to be.”
“Well, you said we can’t shoot our way out, then you say this idea won’t work either. I doubt if we have enough money to bribe every official who has his hand out. So what do you suggest?”
Ethan stirred sugar into his tea, regarding the sweetened liquid with a glum expression. I think he’d rather have had ale or perhaps some smooth Scottish whiskey. “I don’t suggest anything at this point,” he said. “I prefer to scout the terrain before making a decision.”
Which meant he hadn’t the foggiest.
“Much as I hate to say this,” I admitted, “as any kind of idea man for this adventure, I’m turning out to be a dud.”
“It’s too bad you can’t just wave your magic wand and make us invisible long enough to get Jon out of there,” Ethan said.
My heart skipped a beat or two. “What do you mean?”
He’d said something like this before, referring to magic. Did he know? Did he feel Caleb’s presence within himself? Whether he did or not, I knew sometimes traces of Caleb showed up in his speech and in his unconscious thoughts. Now I wondered if he had an actual awareness of the personality meld.
Ethan held his breath while he took a sip of his heavily sugared tea, the look on his face that of a man anticipating the taste of a particularly nasty medicine. The way he wiped his hand over his mouth after he drained the cup indicated the contents had in no way surpassed his expectations.
He shrugged before speaking, as if he’d had to probe his own mind for an answer to my question. “I must be getting too old for this kind of adventure,” he said. “I meant if there’s an easy way to do this, I’d prefer to take the easy way. I’m not looking to be a hero.”
“Not even to save your cousin?” My heart took up its regular beat once more.
“I don’t know the man,” Ethan said. “As I told you before, I’ve never even seen him. The only reason I’m doing this now is because he’s family. My family is rather limited, Miss Winthrop. There aren’t enough of us to risk losing one on some trumped up felony charge.”
“I suppose having Queen Charlotte ask you to take a hand had no bearing on your decision?” He’d have a hard time convincing me of that.
He grinned. “Oh, some, I expect. She is, after all, the Queen of England, and she is my cousin’s grandmother. When she asks one to do a favor for her, that makes a difficult combination to turn down.”
I could agree with these sentiments. “Don’t I know it? She has been so kind to me all these years I feel obliged to aid her if I can.”
A plausible reason, fit for me to repeat. I didn’t want to mention she knew my brother Bart had arranged my sister’s passage back to America aboard a smuggler’s ship. Common knowledge of that wouldn’t do Bart’s reputation any good in the circle he moved in. In truth, I must confess to feeling just the teeniest bit blackmailed. But even that was a secondary reason—to me.
“I wondered how she managed to draft you into this,” Ethan said.
“It just didn’t seem possible you’d do this for fun, even if you are the adventurous kind.”
Oh, definitely not for fun. My magic demanded this of me…that’s why I was here. Maybe if I got real lucky the magic wouldn’t require a lot of derring-do. Maybe the only demand was for a sensible solution like the one that occurred to me now.
“I hate to bring this up, at this late stage, but why doesn’t Queen Charlotte tell the warden his prisoner is her grandson and she wants him released? Viola! No gunfights, no risk, no bribery.” I had the feeling this was too logical.
“Use your head, Miss Winthrop. She can’t do that.” Et
han sounded scornful.
“Why can’t she? She’s the queen. She must be able to do whatever she wants.”
He gave me a funny look.
Uh-oh, I thought. Looked like Belle was taking a hiatus and Boothenay’s brains had just spilled all over the place.
Ethan got to his feet and tried to pace. The room was so small that, at the first turn, he knocked a plate off the table onto the rough floor.
He swept the broken pieces under the table with the side of his boot.
“You know better than that, B…Belle…Annabelle…Miss Winthrop,” he said. “She can’t jeopardize the legal succession to the throne which, if she acknowledged Jonathan, is exactly what she would be doing. So far as I know he is the Prince of Wales’ firstborn child and his only son.
“To some political factions, that would be enough to try to bring him in over his father’s head as king—especially right now. Those factions would certainly want to bypass his half-sister, Princess Charlotte. The Prince of Wales is not popular, you know. It could very well be the various political parties won’t want to wait and see if the whole country goes to rack and ruin under his regency.”
I almost missed his explanation in pondering the way he’d stuttered over my name. For a moment, I thought I saw his lips purse and his cheeks plump as if preparing to say Boothenay before his lips flattened and he said “Belle.” How had he landed on Belle anyway?
“Oh,” I said vaguely. “I see.” Then something kicked in and I really did see. “What a mess. It could bring on a civil war.”
“Quite,” he said, sitting down again.
“Well, Caleb,” I said, sighing. “Then I guess we might as well go right to plan B.” Quick, Boothenay. Think of a plan B.
“Explain plan…What did you call me?” An expression of pained puzzlement spread over his face. A frown crinkled his forehead. He looked like a man hearing voices in his head.
Oh, God! I’d been afraid this might happen. While I’d love to have Caleb beside me, awake and functioning as his own self, I didn’t want the breakthrough if there was the slightest chance his mind could not cope.
Why wouldn’t his mind cope? Voices inside my own head began arguing. You cope.
Yes, I know. The thing is, I’m a magician and have been given special powers. It’s natural I’m able to contend with the stress.
Special powers, my ass. He’s a strong-minded, adventurous man.
He wouldn’t be questioning if he didn’t already sense the anomaly.
On reflection, I agreed with the voice telling me Caleb could handle whatever was thrown at him. I already knew he was a risk taker or he wouldn’t be here now. Still, best to work him in easy-like. Lord knows being two people at the same time was enough to make me dizzy at times, let alone him.
“Pardon me,” I said, pretending I hadn’t noticed anything amiss. “I called you Caleb. You are the spitting image of someone I know with that name. I hope you don’t mind too terribly if I slip now and then.”
He put two fingers over each eyebrow and rubbed vigorously.
“When?” he demanded. “Where did you know this man? I have a feeling…” He trailed off, as if his fingers had erased a memory.
“When?” I parroted. “Oh, a far distant time, I assure you. And a very long way from here.”
Maybe I could nudge him into remembering for himself since I didn’t feel easy with just out and out telling him he was a victim—
make that beneficiary—of magical hocus pocus.
Caleb gave one last rub to his abused eyebrows and sat up. “I swear, Miss Winthrop, what you’re doing to me is downright criminal. Going off on these strange tangents, side-tracking me when I need to concentrate on the job at hand.”
“Please,” I begged. “Please stop calling me Miss Winthrop as if I’m old and prissy and a stickler for the conventions. I’m none of those things.”
“Is that right? I’d never have guessed.” He snorted and shook his head in disgust. “There. You’ve done it again. All right, have your own way. What do you want me to call you? Ma’am? Sweetheart?”
That didn’t sound much like the staid and disapproving Captain Delaney. Still… “You might try Annabelle, or preferably, Belle.” Until you figure out who I really am.
“Belle,” he said, immediately. Then, “You know, you remind me of someone, just as you said I remind you. I may call you by a different name sometime. I hope you won’t take offense if that happens.”
“No, I won’t,” I said. As long as he called me Boothenay.
The serving girl came to clear away the remains of our meal, and while she worked, Caleb and I listened to the rain drip off the eaves.
The thunder had tapered off into intermittent rumbles. Even this dreary little inn felt safe, a haven compared to the open road, yet I knew we soon would have to be on our way. Jonathan Harriman’s time might be very short.
I poured the last of the tea; half a cup for Caleb, a couple of tablespoons for me and sipped the cooled liquid, grown stronger while steeping in the pot. With a grimace, Caleb drained his cup and set it in the saucer with a clink.
“Plan B?” he asked, back on track.
I didn’t have any ideas other than the one I’d already proposed and he’d thought too simple. What did he want? Something dangerous no doubt. Hmm.
“Oh, I just thought we could break in and kidnap the prison commander, hold him hostage while we made a dash for the coast and a ship, then push him overboard when we’re at sea. We’ll probably have to emigrate to America after that, although perhaps the queen could give us a pardon.”
He stared at me. “Are you out of your mind?”
“We don’t have to push the commander overboard if you don’t like the idea.” I wanted to be agreeable. “Maybe we could just cut out his tongue so he can’t talk. No?”
He was shaking his head and rolling his eyes in disgust.
“Too bloody?” I felt laughter bubble up. For a moment, my sense of the ridiculous got the best of me and I forgot I was speaking to Ethan.
“Well then, I’m sorry. I guess my first idea is the only one that comes to mind.”
Ethan wiped a hand over his mouth, as if to erase his answering grin.
Now I have to admit, all I knew regarding Dartmoor I’d wrestled out of my overworked and, no doubt, unpredictable memory of a novel I’d once read. I believe the author had been as historically accurate as a novelist can be and manage to get his story across. A work of fiction seemed to me a poor background on which to base anything as risky as a jailbreak. Still, any information is better than no information, and that’s what I told Ethan.
“I’ve heard the prison is quite open most of the day,” I said, and as I talked, I constructed a diagram made of breadcrumbs on the table to illustrate my point. “On certain days—we’ll have to find out when exactly—tradesmen, vendors, and visitors can enter into a square and do business.
“I understand the only prisoners allowed here are the ones who are seen to have business, for instance, an item for sale or a special, marketable talent. If we can get word to your cousin, I’m sure he’ll know what we need to gain access to the yard. If he is a ship’s first mate, he’s got to have enough initiative to manage that much without help. And then….”
The thunder outside died away altogether, finally. So did my voice.
Ethan stood up and brushed the crumb prison off onto the floor.
“That’s it?” He sounded disbelieving and more than half rude. He shook his head in disgust. “That’s the only strategy you can devise?
Where is this highly adventurous, inventive mind Queen Charlotte keeps touting?”
“You didn’t like plan B either,” I reminded him. “Shoot, it sounded pretty exciting to me. If you have anything better planned, why don’t you say so? Why am I doing all the talking?”
“Exciting. Good God! More like idiotic if you ask me. It’s a damn good thing Queen Charlotte didn’t send you off by yourself. You’re not safe to
be out alone.” Ethan shook out his caped coat and flung it over his shoulders. “I think I’d better make sure the pistols the queen gave me are loaded and primed. And I’d probably better plan on keeping the last bullet for myself. God knows my career will be ruined if this fiasco ever becomes known.”
Yeah? I thought nastily. If you remember how to load the freaking pistols. I threw my cloak on and cinched down my bonnet strings before I trailed him out into the blustery midday wind and rain where the coach stood ready with a fresh hitch of horses.
Was I forever doomed to listen to him insult me, then follow him somewhere. Idiotic, huh?
Chapter 12
Ethan chirruped to the fresh team of four matched chestnuts as if he was greeting old friends. Certainly they were beautiful animals, though very tall with feet the size of dinner plates. I edged around them to the door of the queen’s coach.
Settled inside once more, I rolled up the leather window curtains and let the cold, damp wind blow the conglomeration of old, stale odors from the interior. I wanted to see something of the country while I was here. Who knows? I may well be the only person in the whole universe with the ability to see the world before modern technology ruined the air and the water and the forests. Well, Caleb, too, but he wasn’t aware of the opportunity. My head twisted back and forth as I tried to watch the scenery from both windows, and I remembered something Dad had always said; something about how you need to know where you started from before you can find your way back.
Eventually I concluded Ethan must be one of those people who are larger than life. He had to be more than simple flesh and blood to withstand what he went through that day, and on into the afternoon and the twilight.
We had been making these hurried stops at strategically separated relay inns for two days already. Teams of Queen Charlotte’s horses were at each of them. I must say I was beginning to wonder how many horses she had—a whole herd?
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