Not Forgotten
Page 19
She nodded, holding back sobs. After she could no longer hear his footsteps, she turned to where the wick lay at her feet and said a quick prayer that what she was about to do was right.
Removing the tools she needed from her pocket, she struck the flint against the steel, and watched the sparks begin to fly and light a piece of cloth. Kneeling down with the flame, she set it to the twine and watched it catch fire and sizzle a path towards the ammunition. Then she grabbed her lamp, turned and ran as fast as she safely could.
Philip was waiting for her by where the guards were kept and took her hand as Waverley unlocked the door. They ran without speaking until they reached the sandy beach; they were both out of breath. Explosions began to sound, echoing from deep within the stone walls, and Amelia buried her head in Philip’s chest. Uncontrollable sobs escaped her and he stroked her hair, at the same time holding her tightly to him.
“We must leave,” he said, guiding her back to the boat. Waverley was already there but Tobin was not...and neither was her aunt. They climbed in and sat on the narrow benches, watching in silence as smoke began to bellow from the mouth of the cave. Amelia wished she felt proud of her actions, but her only thought was she had destroyed someone she loved in the process.
The oarsmen pushed the boat out into the water and then climbed in. As they began to row, Amelia cried, “Wait!”
“What is it?” Waverley asked.
“Tobin has A-Aunt!” she stuttered, trying to explain. “She found me in the caves and refused to leave, so Tobin came to look for me and had to carry her out.”
Waverley and Captain Elliot looked warily at each other. The exchange of glances was over her head, but she caught it nevertheless.
“Tobin was not to return to the boat,” Waverley explained. “He would not bring her here, regardless of what occurred. We cannot take her prisoner.”
“I must know she is safe!” Amelia protested.
“You must trust Tobin to see to it. He would hardly harm her after going to such lengths to ensure the guards could escape.”
“I suppose so,” she answered slowly. She pulled her cloak tighter around her. Suddenly, she began to shake uncontrollably; a raw, melancholy chill had her in its grip and it did not seem she would ever be warm again. They watched the guards pour out of the caves, flames and smoke licking at their backs, while the boat drew farther out to sea.
“What comes next?” she asked, staring at the surreal sight.
“War.”
When they reached the yacht, the Duchess’s relief at their return was palpable. Lady Amelia explained the confrontation with their aunt, and it was only then Philip realized the extent to which Lady Amelia had been distressed in the cave. The way she had described the matter afterwards, in the boat, it had seemed a quick thing, but now he could only admire her fortitude. The lady’s torment was evident and he felt for her and the strength she had portrayed in proceeding with destroying the supplies. Once the Duchess was satisfied with Amelia’s explanations, Philip and his fellow adventurers proclaimed exhaustion, and everyone retired to their cabins to sleep for the sail back to England. Hopefully, most of the journey would be achieved while they slept.
Philip dreaded the goodbye to come in England. He believed Lady Amelia felt some not insignificant attachment to him, as well, but matters had changed between them of late, and he felt it best to sever the connection upon setting foot in their home country. Any affection seemed to have cooled on her side, although he had fallen asleep to the rocking of the boat with her beautiful face filling his dreams. On awakening, Philip was shocked to find the shore of England visible already. Sometimes, after a harrowing assignment, he could sleep almost an entire day, for his body seemed to need the time to recover. Having always been one to enjoy the respite an ocean voyage provided, it occurred to him he could have been a sailor, except he did not enjoy confined spaces for indefinite periods of time.
He dressed and made his way to the deck to watch their landing. It fascinated him how the crew worked together to bring them into the docks as they seemed to know when to push and pull the ropes at just the right time.
“Good morning,” Waverley said when Philip joined him at the railing. “I hope you enjoyed a restful night? The sea has been kind to us this voyage.”
“I slept like the dead,” Philip reassured him. “I trust that means the Duchess is faring well?”
“I dare to hope that period of sickness is over. She has been quite well since we set sail.”
Philip wanted to let Luke know of his plans, but he was feeling very uncertain at the moment.
“What are your plans?” he asked instead. “Do you go directly to Waverley Park?”
“That is our desire, of course, but we must consider Amelia. I suspect she needs a repairing lease after all that has occurred during our absence and, of course, what happened to precipitate our leaving. Perhaps Somerton might be the best choice as it is closer to London.”
“I suspect the scandal with Wadsworth will have died down, but her return will cause some sensation,” Philip remarked.
“No more than your return from the dead! While I hope she will go to the country with us, to be companion to Meg during her confinement, I am not sure she will wish to. What have you planned?”
“I must report to Wellington if he is still here, of course. Then I hope for a period of leave to get my affairs in order.”
“Selling out?” Waverley turned to look at him, brows raised.
“I do not think it will be possible.”
“Because you fear war or because you fear retirement?”
Philip laughed. “Both! I could not begin to speculate on what my circumstances will be when I return to Berkshire; nor, moreover, on what will happen when Wellington discovers the fire and if Napoleon sees his way to escape.”
“I could not undertake to say, to the latter, except that Fielding has hinted you will have a respectable income. If Napoleon escapes and amasses another army, we will all be hard-pushed not to return to fight.”
Philip let out a growl of agreement.
“Somehow,” Waverley continued, “I was under the impression that you meant to speak with me about Amelia. I know the idea was merely to present the impression of courting, but I do not think Meg and I are wrong in supposing you found a deeper attachment for each other. Am I mistaken?”
Philip hesitated to answer. He looked out over the approaching port and wished he had waited a few more minutes to leave his cabin.
He closed his eyes. “You are not,” he said softly. “However,” he added before Waverley began drawing up the settlements, “I do not think it is in our best interest to pursue the matter.”
Philip could feel Waverley’s gaze before he opened his eyes to see the incredulous stare his friend was casting at him.
“Whyever not?” he asked, as offended as Philip might have expected Amelia herself to be.
“Must I spell it out for you, Luke?”
“I suppose you must. I can think of no hindrance to such a union. In fact, I cannot think of anyone who handles Amelia so well as you.”
“May I remind you I am a career military officer? Would you have her follow the drum? Even if my circumstances in Berkshire are more handsome than I have reason to expect, it does not make me an eligible parti for the daughter of a Marquess and an heiress.”
“You do her a grave injustice, Philip. She cares nothing for that, nor do her sister and I.”
“I appreciate your words more than I can express, Luke, but I fear that when she realizes I am no more than a gentleman farmer, she will live her life full of regret.”
Luke hesitated. “I cannot speak for her, but I wish you would not give up on her all together. I saw her in London, and while she was the belle of every ball, I did not sense it made her happy. Something to think on.” Luke slapped Philip on the back and left him to his conflicting thoughts.
What was he to do? He was not his own man while he held his commission, and whil
e he could see Lady Amelia following the drum now that he had undertaken this operation with her, he did not want to ask it of her. Life on the Peninsula had been one of extremes and horrific battles. It was not what he would wish for his wife and future children, should it ever happen again.
Regardless of his feelings, he and Amelia needed to have a proper farewell. Never before had his assignments required such personal investment and intimacy, nor yet had left such an imprint on him. It truly was a partnership of body, mind and soul. He would not feel the same without her, but he would go on with his life without her.
He had never believed in relationships where someone could not function without the other. It was unhealthy and did not, in his opinion, espouse the tenants of true love. For what good was he if someone else was necessary for him to be complete? No, complementing each other was the highest form of love, not overshadowing. Amelia would never flourish in the shadows. She would understand his work and why he must do it... but would she let him go alone?
“We have arrived at last,” Amelia said as she took to the rail beside him, leaning her forearms over it. “It seems a lifetime ago I left England.”
“How are you this morning?” he asked carefully.
“It is hard to say. I cannot rest easy until Tobin assures us my aunt is safe, but I will be glad of a few days to convalesce.”
“Last night could not have been easy. It almost killed me to wait at the cave’s entrance.”
“I know it.”
He reached over and took her hand in his. “I wanted to tell you how proud I am of what you did.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I wish I knew I had made the right decision.”
“Will you go to Waverley Park?”
“I suppose I must.”
“What do you wish to do?” He turned her towards him and searched her eyes. Would he propose marriage if she avowed she wished for this life first?
“I do not know. That is the problem. I do not belong anywhere.”
“I know how that feels.” He released her, though he wanted to pull her into his arms. Had she looked inclined towards his suit, he probably would have asked. “Maybe a time in the country will make all things clear. It is where I intend to go if I can obtain leave.”
“To Berkshire, did you say?”
“Yes. Welston is a handsome cottage with a thousand acres of farmland. Modest by many standards.”
“It sounds lovely, and it is your home.”
“I thought it was lost to me forever.” He found his throat thickening with emotion.
“You never did tell me about the shipwreck and how you came to be alive.”
A gust of wind whipped against the ship and some of Amelia’s red locks blew into her face. He brushed them away tenderly and scooped them behind her ear.
“’Tis a time best forgotten.”
“I should like to hear it all the same, when you are ready.”
“There is little to tell. The ship was intended for the West Indies. Madame sabotaged it with cannon fire, not far off the coast where we departed. When I came to, I was lying on the beach near your uncle and several of the crew members. They were all dead.”
“And you were the only one to survive?”
“As far as I know, yes.”
“How horrible!” she exclaimed. “And you lived in the village nearby and spied on my aunt the entire time we thought you missing?”
“Yes. I informed Wellington, of course, and he thought it best if she thought me dead. I therefore assumed the role of Monsieur Lefebre, pedlar, delivery man, jack of all trades.”
“And you bewitched the maid, Josefina.”
Philip bowed slightly.
Amelia said nothing as the crew brought the ship into the harbour and secured it with ropes to the posts at the dock. As their trunks were unloaded and carriages came to take them away, they remained next to each other, not wanting to part.
When it could no longer be put off, Amelia turned towards him. “Will you go back?”
“If needs be.”
She had one last opportunity to give a sign, any sign, of her desire to be with him.
Instead, she nodded and appeared to force the smile she gave him. Standing on tiptoe she kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear:
“Goodbye, Philip. I will never forget you.”
He pulled her into an embrace and held her tight, memorizing everything about her—as if he could ever forget—but the feel, the smell, it would have to do.
Releasing her, he stepped back and made her a regal bow. He could not bring himself to say words of farewell.
“Will you write to me?” she asked, as she placed one boot on the gangway.
“I will,” he assured her before turning away to hide his pain.
Chapter 20
A few weeks had now passed at Somerton. Amelia had travelled up and down the scale of emotions—from grateful to be alive to the depths of despair—over betraying her aunt and losing Philip. Was it wrong of her to long for a more exciting life? At the moment, the quiet, domestic rhythm of the country, without news or action, felt like a penance. Was that really true, however? Was she merely longing to follow the drum because of Philip? If she were being honest, the answer was yes. Accepting defeat was not something Amelia was good at doing gracefully.
Meg was soon to have a child, and instead of pining in her room any longer, Amelia resolved to be a good sister. Eventually, she hoped, she might one day be able to forget and find a measure of contentment. It was ironic she had spent the last year dissatisfied with all her suitors because of who she had thought Philip Elliot was. Now she was in love with the real gentleman and she could not have him either!
She donned her riding habit of thick, grey wool and made her way downstairs. Winter was still in full force this February, but it was dry and milder than those of her youth at Hawthorne Abbey had been. France would be lovely now, she thought before chiding herself. Why must she add torture to her load by reflecting on the past?
Riding was one of the few occupations she could get lost in and not mope, and she had gradually worked up to long rides as she recovered from her injuries.
“Amelia? Is that you?” Meg’s voice questioned as Amelia passed her sister’s sitting room.
“Yes. I was going for a ride,” she answered, stopping at the doorway.
“That is all you ever do of late. Should we return to London? Would that make you happy?” Meg’s face was drawn with concern.
Amelia gave up and went to sit on the chair near Meg. “I do not think it matters where I am, sister. Forgive me for disturbing your tranquillity.”
“I am only worried about you—as is Luke. If there is anything we can do to help?”
“You cannot mend what is broken in me, unfortunately. Perhaps I should return to London so you will not worry.”
“Do not be ridiculous! I would worry even more if you were not here.”
Amelia smiled despite herself.
Luke entered the small room, holding some letters, and went over to kiss Meg on the forehead before squeezing himself onto the sofa next to her.
“Good morning, ladies. Off for a ride in this cold?” he asked Amelia.
“Of course she is,” Meg retorted.
“Indeed? Long hours in the saddle remind me of my days on the Peninsula.”
“Luke, don’t,” Meg warned.
“It is of no moment, sister. There is no use in pretending he does not exist. My heart will recover in time.”
Luke looked at Amelia thoughtfully. “I try not to interfere in my friend’s amours, and you know I have wanted to let you choose your own helpmate.”
“But?” Amelia prompted.
“But I think perhaps you both need a nudge in the right direction.”
“I cannot throw myself at him!” she protested. “Well, no more than I already have,” she added sardonically, feeling her cheeks burn at the admission. How bold she had been, away from the restrictions of London!
“As she does for him,” Meg added―unnecessarily, Amelia thought.
“Do go on,” she said cautiously.
“I did not want to interfere, but he did not feel he could offer you the life you deserved. Marrying him, he said, would mean either following the drum or that of a gentleman farmer. I think, if he had perhaps had some encouragement and reassurance in that direction, he might have taken the chance.”
“What more encouragement could I have given?”
“It appeared to me that you had become good friends after your injury. Mayhap he felt you thought of him as a brother?” Meg suggested.
“I cannot believe we are having this conversation! Had any of our friendship occurred in England, we would have been wed by special licence as soon as the ink was dry.” She stood and began to pace about the room.
“Shall I demand satisfaction of him?” Luke queried with a twinkle in his eye.
“I do not wish to be married by force, thank you,” Amelia snapped.
“I would not shirk my duties, you know,” he added.
“Luke, is that letter from Tobin?” Meg asked, leaning over his shoulder and thus neatly changing the subject.
He looked down at the open sheet of paper. “She has done it, by Jove!”
“Who has done what?” Amelia stopped and asked.
“La Glacier has escaped, and Tobin believes she is already at Elba, or if not, soon will be.”
Amelia sank onto a chair and buried her face in her hands. “Was he holding her captive?”
Luke read more of the letter. “Not precisely,” he answered. “He removed her to the house and stayed with her whilst we made our escape.”
“So she was unharmed?” Amelia collapsed back into the chair with relief.
“Yes, it appears our endeavour was successful in that regard. However, once her guards discovered what had happened, they quickly came searching for her, and Tobin had to escape also.”