Not Forgotten

by Elizabeth Johns

  He was as charming as ever and bowed over her hand. “I must express my gratitude for your hospitality. I regret I can only stay one night before returning to England.”

  “That is a pity, indeed,” La Glacier replied with no emotion. “I consider it a great honour that you have condescended to visit my château.”

  “The honour is entirely mine.”

  Indicating with her hand for him to follow, she turned and began making her way into the house. Several servants in smart livery were lined up to welcome the famous Duke, and beneath his hat, Philip caught Josefina’s eye. He affected no notice of her and hoped Tobin would distract her, although there really was not much harm she could do if she recognized him. It would be her word against his, in any case. Philip looked around but Tobin was nowhere in sight.

  “I will have tea served soon in the drawing room if you would care to refresh yourself first, your Grace. My housekeeper will show you to your apartments,” La Glacier said to Wellington as they walked into the marble entrance hall.

  Philip took off his hat and coat, and draping it over his arm, began to climb the stairs.

  “Psst. Psst.” He heard a hissing sound from an alcove. He was afraid to look and kept walking.

  “Monsieur!” an urgent female voice whispered.

  He could not avoid the confrontation when she stepped directly in front of him.

  “May I help you, mademoiselle?” he asked in a haughty, aristocratic voice, feigning complete ignorance.

  “Do not pretend you do not know me,” she said, hurt in her large, brown eyes.

  “I am afraid you are mistaken.”

  “There cannot be two of you. I know it.” She put her hands on her hips, expressing in the age-old gesture the wrath of a woman betrayed.

  Footsteps sounded in the corridor and her face assumed a look of fear. “I will come to you later. We are not finished.”

  “I think we are, mademoiselle,” he said curtly.

  “There you are!” Lady Amelia said as she rounded the corner.

  “Did you have a nice trip to the village, my love?” he asked as the maid Josefina turned her back to them and pretended to be cleaning a statue in the alcove.

  He linked his arm through Amelia’s and drew her away, whispering in her ear, “Say nothing. The maid was trying to arrange an assignation.”

  “How dare she!” Amelia looked back, a glare marring her beautiful countenance. Josefina made no secret of glaring back. “I will speak to my aunt about her!”

  He pulled her along the gallery with him. “You will do no such thing. She was my informant and recognized me.”

  “She looks more like a woman scorned,” Amelia remarked astutely.

  Philip gave a small shrug.

  “You horrible man!” she said, hitting him on the arm. He led her to her apartments. There was little he could say in his defence. It was part of the job.

  “I will see you directly.” With an unladylike glower, Amelia shut the door in his face, but then opened it again. “Wait,” she started to call, but he was still standing there, feeling vastly amused.

  “Yes?”

  “You are odious,” she fumed.

  “Is that all you wish to say? How disappointing.”

  “No, but…something is amiss with my aunt,” she whispered.

  “What do you mean?” Philip frowned and leaned forward. He could see her hesitate. “Amelia, you must tell me.”

  “She had an argument with Lannes. I found her crying about it.”

  “When was this?” he demanded.

  “This morning, when I followed her from the breakfast room.”

  “Ah, yes. I thought you were indisposed,” he said with a wry grin.

  She looked exasperated. “I have not seen the man since last evening. Have you?”

  “Come to think of it, no.”

  “It must have been serious. It takes a great deal to shake her composure.”

  “Perhaps they argued over Wellington’s visit. Lannes could not be pleased about it.”

  “She was given little choice,” Amelia added.

  “I believe his visit is having the effect he wanted.”

  “Yes, he seems to be stirring the pot nicely. I just do not wish to see my aunt hurt. Now you may leave. I am still not pleased with you.” She shut the door firmly in his face again.

  Amelia knew Captain Elliot was a rogue, but somehow she had hoped he was different. The look on that maid’s face had been murderous.

  As she dressed for dinner, she wondered what was left for Meg and herself to do. She and Captain Elliot had confirmed plans to free Napoleon and evidence of a rebel army. Was anything else required of her? What would Wellington do with the knowledge?

  That was something she must know. It was one thing to discover information against her aunt, and another thing entirely to aid in harming her physically.

  For the coming evening, Amelia donned a black silk gown of slender design which was elegant without excess adornment other than an overdress of black lace. This added texture but no frills. The gown had a low neck and small, capped sleeves that hung over her shoulders. A double string of pearls wound around her neck, and a few curls of her dark red locks fell over her shoulders. Although she was both angry and hurt, she felt a new sense of confidence in herself. As the assignment was drawing to a close, she realized she had been equal to the task and somehow that made her feel as if she could face England again, alone.

  She pulled her black silk gloves up above her elbow and place a bracelet of pearls over each. After dabbing her favourite scent of violets on each side of her neck, she left to join the others downstairs.

  The party was gathered in the drawing room, and Amelia noted Lannes’ continued absence. Meg was standing next to their aunt; together they were a vision of beauty, their aunt in her customary white, and Meg, dressed in pale pink, resembling a fair English rose.

  Wellington, Waverley, and Elliot were helping themselves to the fine brandy, set ready on a silver tray. Standing all together, they presented a strikingly handsome picture of manhood.

  Captain Elliot looked up at her entrance and his gaze arrested. Her heart twisted. It was a bitter-sweet pleasure to know that she had had some effect on him. It was not practised or false, but it did mean nothing more than attraction existed between them.

  Amelia crushed the inner sadness she felt and tried instead to project the confidence she had gained despite her hurt. Knowing they might be at odds over how to deal with her aunt—not to mention the matter of the maid—Amelia tried to distance her feelings for the Captain.

  “Ah, niece, what a striking picture you present.” Aunt Lisette cast her gaze over Captain Elliot. “We are complete now. An intimate party we make, do we not, just the six of us?”

  Dinner was announced and she was left to be escorted by the Captain.

  “You look beautiful,” he said softly as they walked behind the other couples.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. She could not bring herself to meet his eyes. It would be easier to separate herself from him that way. The more distance, the better. She resolutely ignored the sinking feeling in her chest.

  After they were seated and a tomato bisque was served, Amelia could feel someone’s perusal. She glanced around the room from under her lashes as she sipped her soup. Whoever the person was, they were not Captain Elliot or anyone else at the table. How strange, she mused. Could she be imagining it?

  Dismissing her concerns, she continued to sip her bisque. The feeling, however, would not go away.

  As the servants removed the soup, and placed the next dish in front of them, she saw who had been staring... the maid from earlier. She met the girl’s eye and the murderous glare she had imagined was still present. Amelia shivered. Did this maid think her a threat? She glanced at Captain Elliot but he did not appear to have noticed. Either that, or he was ignoring her, which was a very lowering thought.

  Perhaps servants in France thought they were entitled to dal
ly—or more—with the members of the household and their guests, and maybe Amelia needed to disabuse the wench of her misapprehension. So lost in contemplation of how to confront this brazen servant was she, Amelia barely tasted her food during the remainder of the meal.

  “Amelia, are you feeling quite the thing?” Meg asked.

  “Oh, I beg your pardon. I was wool-gathering.”

  “Not in France, I gather,” she retorted.

  “Where is your man, Madame?” Wellington asked Aunt Lisette. “I thought he left your side only to sleep.”

  “He left,” Aunt Lisette replied succinctly.

  “Well, that is good news for me,” he replied jovially. “I can dance with you all night.”

  “You really do love to dance,” she remarked.

  “Only when there are beautiful partners,” he replied in a reflective tone.

  “Very well, we can arrange a little dancing after dinner.” Aunt Lisette nodded to a servant, who scurried away.

  They finished their meal without any further awkwardness, and Amelia was glad to escape the hateful eyes of the maid.

  She was, of course, partnered with Captain Elliot for the first dance, and she was glad for the opportunity to unleash her fears.

  Captain Elliot took her hand in his and put his other hand on her waist. While she had anticipated this from the music, the sensation of a gentleman’s hand on her person always sent a shock through her. It was commonplace to waltz in France, and Amelia did enjoy it so. The restrictions upon it in England only made it possible to perform it at large balls in London.

  “Is something wrong?” Captain Elliot asked. “You seemed to be in a world of your own during dinner.”

  “That is because I was,” she retorted. “Your maid was shooting daggers at me for the entire meal!”

  “Ah, the maid. I should have guessed as much. She was also staring at me a goodly part of the time.”

  “It is a wonder she was able to perform her duties. What did you do to her?”

  “Why must everyone assume the worst? I did nothing more than carry on a flirtation with her in order to try to obtain information. She was not even very useful in that endeavour,” he complained.

  “Nothing occurred between you at all?” Amelia looked at him sceptically. “For someone who received naught more than words, she is quite possessive of you.”

  He had the grace to look guilty.

  “What did you do?” She narrowed her gaze at him—she could hardly do anything more while dancing.

  He turned her and dipped her rakishly backwards, clearly trying to avoid the question. It would not work.

  “Tell me. I must know what I am dealing with,” she insisted.

  “I gave her one small kiss, that is all. I swear it!”

  She would have let the matter drop, but he continued.

  “Besides, Tobin is sweet on her. I was led to believe they were quite happy together.”

  She snorted, uncaring of rudeness she would usually abhor. “Obviously not.”

  “It would not be the first time he has stretched the truth,” Philip observed.

  “Speaking of Tobin, where is he?”

  “Perhaps he did not wish to blow his cover as I did. I did not admit anything of the sort to the maid, but I could not convince her otherwise.”

  “Yes. If she felt doubly betrayed, imagine the wrath.”

  Philip laughed. “I do not imagine that my charms are enough to send any female into raptures let alone rage. Her feelings are only hurt because I did not pretend to know her.”

  “Do not forget you then called me ‘my love.’” That would throw salt on any female’s tender sensibilities.”

  “I am not as callous as that. I did not mean it that way. I thought she would realize I was not Monsieur Lefebre if she thought you were my love.”

  “At any rate, I hope we do not have to see her again. I assume our stay will not be for much longer since we have the information we sought.”

  “I do not have direct orders on that front, yet,” he said quietly, looking up, Amelia noticed, presumably to see where La Glacier was. Wellington had brought a smile to her aunt’s lips, which was good.

  “I presume to agree with you, however, we cannot directly stop your aunt from pursuing any of her actions. She is a free woman in a free country, despite her allegiance to the Emperor.”

  “As long as she does not admit such a thing publicly,” Amelia pointed out.

  Captain Elliot inclined his head as the waltz drew to a close.

  Partners were exchanged for two more dances, and then Meg withdrew, claiming fatigue.

  Waverley and Meg said good night, and retired.

  Wellington took out his pocket watch and grunted his disapproval. “Would you perhaps show me the view from the outdoors?” he requested. “I received a hint of it from my room, but nothing is quite the same as the wind blowing in your face and the briny smell of the sea.”

  “Oui, of course, your Grace. Perhaps you missed your calling for the navy,” La Glacier said with a sly smile.

  “And have missed the greatest rivalry of our time on land? I think not. Besides, you cannot have a proper ball or ride horses on a ship.”

  “No, indeed. Come, we shall take in the view from the courtyard.”

  Captain Elliot offered Amelia his arm and she placed her fingers on it. They followed behind Wellington and Aunt Lisette.

  “Whatever was wrong earlier, he seems to have made her forget about it for the present,” Captain Elliot observed.

  “I am glad of it.”

  “What a beautiful night,” Wellington’s voice boomed ahead.

  Without warning, a scream of terror rent the air. It had come from her aunt. Amelia and Captain Elliot hastened forward.

  Wellington had his arms around Aunt Lisette and was trying to pull her away from whatever had elicited such a ghastly response from her. Amelia gasped in horror and pressed her hands to her mouth. Hanging from a tree at the edge of the courtyard was La Glacier’s man, Lannes, quite dead.

  Amelia could not restrain a shudder. Without a word, Wellington turned Aunt Lisette’s sobbing face into his coat and led her back inside.

  Amelia stared at the body. She had never seen a man hanged before, and she had not imagined anything so violent, even though she knew criminals were served that form of justice. The man’s eyes stared blankly, his skin pallid, and his features were bloated.

  “Why?” The single word was all that escaped her lips. Once Captain Elliot had assured himself the man was indeed dead, he put his arm around her for comfort.

  “It is a warning.”

  She could not but agree with him... yet who was being warned? Them or her aunt?

  Chapter 14

  Lady Amelia has gone upstairs to comfort her aunt,” Wellington informed Waverley as they joined Philip in the study.

  “A deuced bad business,” Wellington said as he paced the length of the room. “And on my watch, no less. Very bad.”

  “Should we call the authorities?” Waverley asked.

  “Madame Lisette asked me not to. She said she would take care of it in the morning after we have departed.”

  “We?” Philip questioned.

  “Yes. She thinks it best if everyone leaves. She feels his death was precipitated by our presence, and I am inclined to agree. It is certainly an unfortunate coincidence.”

  “I agree it is best if we leave,” Waverley said. “Meg has been uncomfortable with the whole business. You have found what you were looking for.”

  Philip disagreed. He did not think all the loose ends were yet quite tied up. “You are content to leave things as they are?” he asked Wellington.

  “What else can I do?” Wellington asked in return, holding his hands wide apart. “This was an exercise in gathering information which I cannot act on. It is not a crime to gather supplies—or men. Until she does something illegal with them, our hands are tied.”

  “Does that include the information we fo
und in the cave?”

  “It does. You yourself admitted there was no indication of date or time associated with it. We can keep an eye on matters, but there is no point in putting the ladies in further danger here.”

  “I agree. We will plan on setting sail with you in the morning,” Waverley said with finality. Wishing them good night again, he nodded a salute and left the room.

  “Help me deal with the body,” Wellington commanded. “It is the least we can do for Madame Lisette. She is quite shaken.”

  Philip followed his commander to the courtyard. He wondered whether La Glacier was shaken because she had ordered Lannes’ execution or because she feared for her own safety. She had almost sentenced him to death along with Hawthorne, and it was nothing short of a miracle he was here today. Wordlessly, Philip held the dead body for Wellington while he cut it down from the tree and sliced away the ropes.

  “She wants it taken down near the rocks on the beach,” the Duke directed.

  “To make it look like an accident,” Philip muttered as they carried their heavy burden down a hundred or more steps. Philip could not help but recall being left to his fate on this very beach, next to this very rock behind which they placed Lannes.

  “He will be gone by morning,” Philip remarked.

  “With any luck, and if God wills it so,” Wellington agreed.

  “Who do you think did this? Do you think it was her?”

  Wellington shook his head. “Someone from the ranks who thinks she is going soft in her allegiance.”

  “Someone with an eye on taking her place?”

  “Or the Emperor’s.”

  “Do you think she has a chance of freeing him?”

  “If anyone can, she can,” Wellington said, staring at the vast ocean and stars which had now come out to greet them. “I do not wish to be caught off guard, Elliot.”

  “Nor I, sir.”

  “Signal Frome. I want to inform him of our change in plan and discover if he saw anything.”

  Philip took a flint and steel from his pocket and struck it, lighting the small taper he kept with it for such uses. He flashed it three times and watched for a response. After a couple of minutes, there was a reciprocal three flashes and they waited for the boat to draw near. It was a moonless night, and Philip could envisage the smugglers plying their trade with vigour all along the coasts between here and England.