Without Refuge

by Diane Scott Lewis

“Perhaps one. Your selection of wine is excellent.” She quivered, hating her reaction and plucked a glass from a tray as the others entered. They stood strangely silent, like a trio of owls, watching her and her “escort.” Bettina gripped the crystal stem and pretended to sip.

  “Can we visit the main ballroom next? I’d like to show Julie those Italian antiques you brought me.” Josephine’s upset at her husband’s monopolizing of their pretty guest showed in her timorous voice and nervous smile.

  “The evening has been wonderful, but isn’t it rather late? I should get back and comfort my husband.” Bettina rearranged her fichu and caught Julie’s eye.

  Julie flinched in reproach, mingled with a trace of pity. As if she understood Bettina’s plight, but could do nothing about it. “I would love to see the Italian pieces, Josephine.”

  “You must come with us also, Madame Camborne.” Josephine looked from Bettina to her husband with large, liquid eyes.

  Bettina, annoyed at diffident Julie and Joseph’s silence, smiled at her hostess. “I adore Italian antiques. I definitely want to see them.”

  “Nonsense, we aren’t through as yet. Run along, all of you, we’ll catch up,” Napoleon said with a charismatic smile. He clasped Bettina’s arm again.

  Josephine sighed. Her chin up and head held rigid, she started down the passage. Julie and Joseph trailed behind like minnows swimming from the shark.

  Napoleon steered Bettina into an adjacent room. “Now in here we have the maps of my victorious campaigns and the soon to be conquered regions.”

  The front walls were covered with huge maps of the world. Tiny colored flags were pinned on various parts of the continent. One even stabbed into England. On the back wall numerous books lined rosewood shelves.

  Bettina once more tugged free. She smoothed down her embroidered, almost detached sleeve. “I’m suitably impressed, if that was your intention.”

  “I don’t believe you are. As you can see, there is far more work to be accomplished in my European affairs.” Napoleon crossed his arms and leaned against a rosewood desk.

  “Why not leave everyone in peace? Do you always overrun women as you do countries?” She kept her voice even, matter-of-fact.

  “If it’s necessary.” Napoleon placed a finger on a globe supported by a pedestal beside the desk and gave it a spin. “I am always a rough commander at heart.” He grinned slyly. “Do I make you uncomfortable, Madame?”

  “You are trying very hard to make me uncomfortable.” Bettina stiffened her spine, growing more obstinate in challenge. “What is your purpose?”

  “I only wished to show my sincere regard for you, Lisbette.” His reply laced with sarcasm, he wasn’t the vulnerable, lonely soldier of her last encounter.

  “You injured your wife’s feelings, all this flirtation with me. Wouldn’t it be better if we joined them?”

  He grimaced. “My wife knows the game, and initiated it, so to speak. Do you think I’m fooled as to the true reason your husband didn’t accompany you tonight?”

  Bettina rubbed her arms in the sudden chill. “He was ill, feverish. It’s understandable, considering the damp prison he was in.”

  Napoleon straightened and stepped close to her. “Who is responsible for his discharge from that prison?”

  “You are, of course.” Bettina turned from his scrutiny and studied the globe. The continent of Africa was fascinating. “I heard you visited the pyramids. What did—”

  “Are you grateful for my intervention, Lisbette?” He put his face inches from hers until she felt the warmth of his breath.

  “You know that I am.” She swallowed hard but didn’t shrink away.

  “Then have the courtesy to look me in the eye.” He said it softly and heat spread along her body. “We have unfinished business, don’t we? You haven’t yet fulfilled your end of our bargain.”

  Bettina stifled a gasp, and met his gaze. She needed to rush out the door. “You can’t expect me to do anything, with your wife and my friends, your own brother, so near?”

  “One could always hope.” Napoleon grasped her shoulder, his countenance no longer impervious. “I was beguiling enough when I had the power to grant your wishes, wasn’t I? My kisses were important then.”

  She saw a glimpse of his vulnerability and it dazed her. “I didn’t mean I wasn’t attracted to you. To be honest, I was...am. Still, it isn’t appropriate. I’m married and love my husband very much. You’re also married, to a fine woman. These dalliances may be nothing to you, but to me…”

  “Would you have stayed with me that night, if we hadn’t been interrupted at such an inopportune moment?” He moved against her, his hand still firm on her shoulder.

  “I…I… It’s impossible to say.” She jerked back, feeling naked before him. With all the champagne, who could be sure what might have happened, and the idea shamed her. “However, the past is the past.” She thrust a hand onto his chest to push him farther away.

  “You continue to intrigue me.” He grasped her hand and pressed it over his heart. “One night together would sooth my feelings.”

  Bettina forced a smile, willing herself to relax. She didn’t dare anger him. “I’m extremely flattered you find me intriguing, but I will never betray my husband.”

  “I noticed you weren’t the kind of woman who gives her favors cheaply, to my deepest sorrow. That’s why you are a gem in this cesspool of life. One last kiss is all I ask, and our bargain will be, shall we say, partially fulfilled?” Before she could react, Napoleon’s lips covered hers.

  Bettina allowed the kiss, even enjoyed it. Then she clenched her fingers on his shirt and eased her face away. “Voila, our bargain is finished. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and my husband.” She turned, breathless, and staggered for the door.

  “Very well, Madame, I’ll intimidate you no longer.” He made a sweeping bow. “Time to rejoin the others.”

  She swallowed and hurried into the corridor.

  * * * *

  At Julie’s, Bettina rushed upstairs to the guestroom, her senses reeling from the night’s events. People did not repair their marriages by the salacious pursuit of other women.

  She envisioned the portrait of beautiful, heartless Miriam Camborne, who’d cheated on Everett with Frederick’s father. She could never be so cruel and longed for an ordinary existence.

  She undressed in the dark, believing Everett asleep. She crawled under the blankets and was comforted by his warm presence.

  “Did you enjoy the party?”

  “You were only pretending.” She nudged his shoulder, anxious to mend their previous discord. “Mais non, I wanted to leave earlier. But it’s impolite before the host deems it so. I’m glad to be rid of all this formality. Promise you’ll never introduce me to the English king?”

  “I promise. Yet you’re presuming I’m acquainted with that gentleman.” He chuckled. “So, you like the simple, common life, my nobleman’s daughter?” His hand slid up her ribcage, gently cupping her breast.

  “I much prefer it. Tomorrow I’m insisting—rude or not—on the loan to finance our trip home to England.” She pulled up his nightshirt, rubbing her pelvis against his.

  Everett kissed her mouth, wiping away the taste of anyone else. Her body trembling with sensual desire, that heady warmth engulfed her in their frantic lovemaking.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  At the sight of Simeon’s cottage, smoke billowing from its chimney, Bettina grew giddy with relief and squeezed Everett’s hand. After Joseph’s generous loan, they’d caught the coach to the west, and hired a wagon out to the cape.

  If she had welcomed Julie’s fashionable home after the filth of prison, she now embraced this rustic abode, away from the scheming and seductions of Paris.

  The cold wind off the sea ruffled their hair. They huddled in
their newly purchased coats and Everett knocked on the cottage door.

  Simeon opened it, grinned in shock, embraced them both, and hustled them to sit before his fire. “Parblue, I am happy to see you, my friends.” The big man pulled on a wrinkled shirt over his nightshirt and hurried his old dog out the door for his morning duty.

  “We’ve experienced quite the misadventure.” Everett explained everything, his face relaxed at once again conversing in English. “Though it’s far from over.”

  Bettina warmed herself at the hearth with a cup of Simeon’s thick coffee.

  “I didn’t know what I could do to help. You wanted no interference.” Simeon’s voice gruff, his eyes sparkled in his leathery face. At a scratching noise, he let his dog back in.

  “Can we still find a fisherman to take us across the channel at this time of year?” Bettina asked as the wind creaked the cottage around her.

  “I know of one fisherman. He’s quite fearless. Many might even say reckless.” Simeon took a gulp of coffee. “He’ll probably do it for the amount of money you offer, but…”

  “Perfect, when can we talk with him?” Everett sipped his coffee then patted the old dog’s scraggly head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t wait to shake the dust of France from my shoes forever.”

  “Can’t blame you, after what you’ve been through.” Simeon stirred to life the dying embers in his grate. Smoke filled the room. “I’d still be wrong in not warning about the weather. Very unpredictable in winter. The crossing would be dangerous, especially one where you’re sneaking across.”

  Rain started to plunk on the roof, accentuating his statement.

  “Please, we have to try.” Bettina stroked the grizzled muzzle of the dog Simeon never bothered to name. “Everett can’t afford to be recaptured if we stay in France.” She couldn’t depend on Napoleon’s protection with their bargain unconsummated. Also, no matter how welcoming, their presence in Simeon’s cottage put their friend in danger.

  Simeon sat with a grunt on his stool near the hearth. “Against my advice, but I’ll speak to him tomorrow.”

  Everett hugged his arm around Bettina and she leaned into his shoulder. She had to believe they were one step forward, though their situation seemed as precarious as before.

  * * * *

  Bettina set down the baguettes, a jug of buttermilk and cider she’d purchased in the nearby village. She laid out tea leaves and inhaled the fragrant aroma. Everett didn’t care much for Simeon’s coffee and she set a pot on the fire to boil for tea.

  Everett paced the tiny cottage, impatient for Simeon’s return with the fisherman. Finally they heard voices and Everett peered out the window. “At last.”

  The door creaked open and Simeon stepped in, followed by a tall man as skinny as a willow switch.

  The man removed his dirty cap. His bony, slack-jawed face barely contained two wild eyes. “I’m Eugene.” He rubbed his long fingers over rumpled clothes and grinned with yellow, crooked teeth.

  Everett shook his hand, though looked hesitant.

  “Madame.” Eugene smirked at Bettina. His left eye stared in a separate direction from the right, and her heart sank. How could he navigate with such unruly eyes?

  They sat down to talk at the little table as she served cider and tea.

  “I can do it. Drop you off in a remote area, providing we keep away from the warships.” Eugene sprawled in a chair and scratched his stringy-haired scalp. The stink of fish and body odor rolled off him. The dog took one sniff then ambled off to a corner.

  “The voyage might be hazardous now, with the seasonal squalls.” Simeon frowned, one elbow on the table.

  “My boat can handle the passage in any weather.” Eugene started to dig in his ear. “Called skill of the captain. How about a stronger drink, mon ami?”

  “Don’t take any unnecessary chances.” Simeon rose and plopped down a bottle of wine. “These friends of mine have suffered enough.”

  “Only if the weather is clear will we take the risk.” Bettina squeezed Everett’s hand and translated Eugene’s thick Breton French.

  “I’m anxious to go, but I won’t endanger your life,” he said to her, his gaze intense.

  “This entire country’s been a risk these past years.” Eugene snorted then popped the bottle’s cork. He splashed wine into his cider and slurped. “It’s been good business for smugglers.”

  “How soon could we leave?” She drank her tart cider and tamped down the uneasiness at the back of her mind. They’d soon be home in England, Everett safe, their children sent for and life returning to normal.

  “We’ll set sail next Sunday, give me time to prepare the boat.” Eugene gulped more wine, belched and grinned at them as he scratched at his chest.

  “Sounds a little hasty for preparation.” Simeon drummed his fingers on the table, his gaze flitting from Eugene to Everett and Bettina. The old dog pricked up his ears. “Make certain to take every precaution.”

  “Tell him we’ll be ready, if he’s certain he knows what he’s doing.” Everett massaged his fingers over her hand, more a nervous gesture. “I think he needs strong spectacles, but don’t tell him that part.”

  “Bien sûr, we’ll be ship shape.” Eugene stood and knocked into the wall behind him. A whittled figurine toppled from a shelf above and struck him on the head. “Roof fallin’ in?” He picked it up and grimaced.

  “We will put our trust in you, Monsieur.” Bettina put emphasis in a trust she didn’t feel. She stood with Everett and hugged him. He almost squeezed the breath from her, but his expression told her he shared her concerns.

  * * * *

  A candle flickered as Everett lit it. “Time to get up, darling,” he whispered.

  Bettina pulled off the comforting blanket and rose from the pallet where they slept at their insistence, refusing to take Simeon’s bed. She shivered in the chilly dawn air. Sunday had arrived, and she wanted the day to be over before it started.

  Simeon stumbled out from the bedroom, lit a fire and prepared coffee. The flame’s heat soon warmed her, but she had to duck into the frigid bedroom to dress.

  Bundled in their coats, they drank a quick cup of coffee and nibbled a slice of bread.

  “Will you accept any money for all your trouble?” Bettina asked Simeon as she opened the door to a cutting wind to let the dog out.

  The man grimaced and shrugged on his coat. “Mais Non, I most heartily refuse.” He snatched up his lit lantern. “We’d better walk down.”

  Bettina slid a few coins under her coffee cup when he wasn’t looking.

  The three stepped out and the dog joined them. The air freezing, lightening flashed in the east. Bettina tightened her coat around her and, holding Everett’s hand, they picked their way down a twisting path to the water. Simeon bobbed the lantern along beside them in the darkness. Pebbles scattered where their feet landed. Cormorants, nestled in the cliff side, flapped wings in irritation at the early disturbance.

  At the bottom, the waves lapping close, Bettina stopped. The dog sat near her feet, sniffing the damp air that threatened rain. Orange fingers of light started to poke up into the sky in the distance.

  “Thank you for all your help and putting up with us.” Everett shook the big man’s hand. Simeon clapped him on the back.

  “Tell my aunt we’ve gone. I’ll write her from England, if mail is still delivered between the countries during war.” Bettina kissed his cheek, certain he must have blushed in the shadows. “We’ll write to you, too.”

  “Have a safe journey. I wish I had a better boat to take you across. I promise to go and visit Melisande.” Simeon called to his dog, and they trudged back up the path, the lantern’s circle of light fading.

  As prearranged, a skiff met them at the water’s edge. In silence they climbed in and a hooded man rowed them around the
cape. Bettina cuddled to Everett, listening to the rising wind, a few disturbed waterfowl, and the steady dip of the oars.

  Upon reaching land, a man with a lantern took them to Eugene’s fishing boat moored to a narrow pier. Bettina shuddered at the weather-ravaged, two-masted lugger.

  Eugene waited below the deck in a tiny cabin cluttered with nets and discarded wine bottles. Slimy fish pieces littered the floor of an adjacent compartment, the stink terrible. “I been studying maps, and think the best place to drop you is Lizard Point. Familiar with it?” Eugene’s eyes looked even crazier in subdued lantern-light.

  “That’s in Cornwall. Yes, anywhere in England is fine,” Everett said after Bettina translated.

  “How long will this take?” Bettina swayed as the moaning wind pushed against the vessel. The boat’s fabric creaked. Her hand tightened on Everett’s.

  “If up in Calais, wouldn’t take no time to reach the English coast. But down here, there’s a lot more water between us.” Eugene removed one shoe and scratched a dirty foot. “Might be as much as four days, can’t never tell.”

  Bettina swallowed down her disappointment.

  A young man poked his head over the hatchway. “Capitaine, the rain’s starting, a storm’s comin’. Should we –?”

  “Prepare to set sail, boy! We go with the tide.” Eugene plucked at his jersey and wrapped tighter the red Breton kerchief around his scrawny neck. “You two have to stay below here, it’ll be safer.” The captain scrambled up the short ladder.

  Bettina steadied herself against the craft’s rear mast, which pierced through the middle of the cramped cabin. Everett led her over to sit on a wooden ledge that protruded from the bulkhead. He sat beside her. A rumble of thunder made them both stare up. A lantern hanging above swayed, dappling the room in dancing light.

  She breathed through her mouth to lessen the fish stench. “Did you know the first time I left France was during a storm?”

  He slipped his arm around her shoulders. “I’m vastly fortunate you found your way to Cornwall after that.” He kissed her temple. “We’re heading home, darling.”