Exile for Dreamers

by Kathleen Baldwin

  “A thousand apologies, my lady. I’m honored, to be sure.” He made a great show of bowing. Too great a show, and I felt sure that wry curve of his lips indicated a bit of covert mockery.

  Jane studied the letter as if the answers must still be hidden in the text. “That is preposterous. Why would a man of his intellect bring a twelve-year-old boy to France?”

  Mr. Sinclair took a long, slow breath and his easy manner turned as cold as that frozen waterwheel he’d mentioned earlier. “Begging your pardon, my lady, but despite all those fine papers you may have read, you don’t know beans about my uncle. He is the best of men, kind, generous, and he loves his family. He took notice of how I liked tinkering. He and my ma decided I should benefit by serving as his apprentice. And so, I did. Twelve being the accepted age to begin an apprenticeship.”

  She glanced up from the letter, blinked, and looked momentarily chastised. That’s something for Jane.

  His voice lost some of the stern edge. “I was with Uncle Robert when the Nautilus made her maiden voyage on the Seine in July of 1800. If you read the account, you will know that there were four men inside the Nautilus that day. It ought to have reported three men and a boy. But to be fair, I was tall for my age.”

  He added this last remark about his height with a jaunty grin that seemed to completely unsettle our Jane. She pruned up and refused to look at him.

  Mr. Sinclair relaxed then and itched absently at his snarled hair. “A leaky tub, that Nautilus. We took her down twenty-five feet. Water pressed against the copper hull, dripping in around the seams, and she creaked so loud I thought she would burst her buttons any second. But we kept her under for seventeen minutes.” He watched Jane for a reaction. When none came, he repeated, “Seventeen minutes.” Then as if Jane might be a little slow-witted he added, “underwater.”

  She sniffed and straightened her back gracefully.

  “Folks watching along the banks were amazed, I can tell you that. They reckoned we had all drowned until we bobbed up and, pretty as you please, steered back to shore as if we hadn’t just sailed nearly four hundred feet downriver.”

  I watched him, this insolent apprentice engineer from America. He wasn’t quite the dunderheaded fool he appeared. There was a spark of mischief in his manner, but he lost interest in Jane when one of our maps caught his attention. Without dismissing himself, he strolled over to our worktable. “Is that … are those the new European borders?”

  “No.” Madame Cho snatched up the maps and rolled them. “History lessons. Old maps. Nothing to concern you.”

  He looked confused. “But I saw—”

  “No. They are old. Not new.” Madame Cho waved him away, gathering up all of our papers and maps. “You go back over there.”

  Georgie took him by the arm and guided him over for a look at the tea tray. “Surely you would enjoy some tea to refresh you after your long journey.”

  “I … well … yes. If you say so. Thank you, I suppose that might be just the thing.”

  She deposited him in a seat and he managed to convince his long gangly legs to cooperate. In the diminutive lady’s chair, his knees stuck up too high and the rumpled stocking was even more apparent than before.

  Jane seated herself beside me and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, in an effort, I’m sure, to block out the sight of his hairy leg exposed by the droopy stocking. She grimaced when he tucked a kipper inside a cucumber sandwich and consumed it with puppyish enthusiasm. Then he smeared two heaping spoonfuls of quince jam on a warm bun with a spoonful of curried egg topped off with a slice of Stilton cheese. Jane blinked in disbelief at this concoction.

  For someone like Jane, who valued order above all things, whose gowns hung in the wardrobe in graduated colors, whose hair ribbons were meticulously rolled, and who kept neatly penned planting records to account for which type of wheat ought to be planted in what field in order to yield the most abundant harvest, I could see how a man like Mr. Alexander Sinclair might cause her to grind her teeth.

  As she was doing now.

  I, on the other hand, found him amiable company, refreshingly guileless and yet clever. He reminded me of an otter. Except less tidy.

  It wasn’t until we watched him consume half the tray of food Cook had sent down that I remembered none of us had eaten breakfast that morning. Georgie finally helped herself to jam and bread, and Jane selected a delicate bacon and cheese finger sandwich while carefully avoiding eye contact with Mr. Alexander Sinclair.

  I found it difficult to concentrate when across the park I was certain Lord Ravencross must be gritting his teeth in severe pain. Real pain. Never mind what the footman had been told to tell me, it was the kind of pain that could steal one’s life away. I stared unseeing at my cup of murky tea, into which Madame Cho had stirred some excessively bitter herbs. I nibbled absently at a biscuit, but it promptly turned to dry cotton wadding in my mouth.

  Despite the pounding in my head, I wanted to run back to Ravencross Manor and demand to be admitted. It was foolishness to sit here sipping repugnant tea when he was suffering.

  Jane reached over and laid her hand over mine to stop me from shredding my biscuit to crumbs. “I know you are worried, but there would be nothing you could do for him.”

  Maybe not, but I could be there. I could annoy him just enough that giving up would not be an option.

  Georgie fretted, too, but for other reasons. She turned her plate of bread and jam round and round in her lap. “Mr. Sinclair, would you mind telling us how you left our friends, Lord Wyatt and Captain Grey? Are they well?”

  Usually Georgie asks a hundred questions where one will do. Today it was the opposite. I knew what she really wanted to ask, but couldn’t. The yearning in her small query made me wince for her. She wanted to ask so much more. She ached to know if the man she loved was safe. Were Lord Wyatt’s wounds healed? How much danger was he in? Were he and the captain on the run from the Iron Crown? Or were they the ones doing the chasing? Most of all, Georgie wanted the answer to one gut-twisting question: When would Sebastian return home to her?

  Our guest finished chewing before responding. “Lord Wyatt said you would ask after him. He instructed me to tell you he is in fine fettle.”

  Georgie’s lips pursed for a moment. “Instructed you. Does that mean he is well or not?”

  “Yes, miss. Both men are hale and hearty. A daring lad, your Lord Wyatt. I’m under strict orders not to recite the details of our escape from France, but I can tell you this, he and the captain are men to be reckoned with.” Mr. Sinclair stopped speaking abruptly and made short work of a sausage roll.

  Georgie blanched. I could well imagine the scenarios she must be conjuring in her imagination. “Tell me frankly, Mr. Sinclair. Is he unharmed or not? No new injuries?”

  “Nothing to speak of. A scratch here and there. The man is a first-rate swordsman.” Mr. Sinclair reached for a salted egg, and I wanted to slap his hand for terrifying poor Georgie. I was beginning to think the rude American was as deceptive as Miss Stranje.

  “You needn’t worry, Georgie. He has the right of it. Lord Wyatt is an excellent hand with both sword and gun.” I spoke with a firmness meant to settle her fears.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Miss Stranje and Sera in the doorway. I jumped to my feet, nearly toppling my plate to the floor, catching it just in the nick of time. “What news?” I’d risen so suddenly the room began to whirl, so I slumped back into my seat and gripped the arms of my chair.

  Miss Stranje looked grim, grimmer than her earlier report warranted.

  “What’s happened?” My voice cracked and sounded odd even to my own ears.

  She answered me directly, no hedging this time. “Lord Ravencross is doing as well as can be expected.” She looked drained and weary, and she absently rubbed her palms on the side of her dress. “The doctor stitched him up and gave him laudanum. They’ve moved him upstairs to his own rooms, where he seems to be resting more comfortably than he was in Mrs. Evans’s
small bed.”

  “Seems to be?” I asked.

  “We’ll know more by tomorrow morning.” Miss Stranje straightened and gave me a shrewd once-over. “And you should be resting as well.”

  I waved her reprimand away. “He isn’t safe. Not in his condition. They might come back. I overheard—”

  “Not now.” With a stern look, she held up a hand, forestalling my outburst, and turned to our guest. Our odd Mr. Sinclair had the presence of mind to stand when Miss Stranje and Sera had entered. He stood quietly watching her, alert, reacting to every nuance of her speech precisely the way a curious otter might.

  Georgie introduced him. “He arrived with a message from Lord Wyatt.”

  “Welcome to Stranje House, Mr. Sinclair.” Miss Stranje extended her hand and, as he had done to Georgie’s, he pumped her hand up and down as if it were the handle of a water spigot.

  Jane thrust the letter of introduction at Miss Stranje.

  Miss Stranje ignored Jane’s interruption, even though I knew she must have a mad itch to look at that letter. Nor did she let on that she noticed anything objectionable in Mr. Sinclair’s appearance. She treated him with the same respect she would have given a peer of the realm, graciously gesturing for Mr. Sinclair to take a chair. “Please be seated. You mustn’t let me interrupt your tea. You’ve had a long journey I’m sure.”

  Only after he took his seat did she accept the letter from Jane, who was fairly frothing at the bit for her to read it.

  I clutched the arm of the settee because suddenly the room began to swim before me. The lump on my head must be worse than I thought. But then I glanced at my teacup on the table and remembered the bitter herbs. “You gave me a sleeping draught?”

  Madame Cho had been watching me. With a curt nod, she stood. “Come. We must take you to your bed.”

  The very last thing I wanted to do was sleep, but what choice did I have? If I didn’t go with her to the dormitorium, I would collapse. Before accepting Cho’s help, I leaned over and whispered sternly in Jane’s ear, applying enough grim warning that she knew better than to refuse, “Wake me at nightfall.”

  Six

  SHADOWS

  Jane jostled my shoulder and awakened me from a remarkably dreamless sleep. “I hope you appreciate us disobeying orders. We were told to leave you sleeping.” All four of them stood next to the bed, surrounding me in the dark.

  Wary. Worried.

  Sera thrust a crusty roll stuffed with meat and cheese at me. “Ham and cheddar. It was all I could slip into my pocket.”

  Maya laid an offering of grapes in my lap.

  “Thank you.” My throat was dry, so it came out sounding garbled and croaky.

  Georgie handed me a glass of lemon water. “You’re planning something. What is it?”

  I gulped down the contents. “It’s best if you don’t know.”

  Jane crossed her arms. “Tell us anyway.”

  “It’s something I must do alone.”

  Georgie took the glass from me, refilled it from a pitcher, and set it down with a firm plunk. “We work together. Remember?”

  Even in the dark, I could see worry dampening the fire in her features, and it needled me worse than anything she might say.

  “Explain your plan, so that we may help.” Maya’s soothing voice almost lulled me into confiding.

  “Don’t use your tricks on me, Maya. Not tonight.” I took a bite of the sandwich, hoping food would help awaken my groggy limbs. “Go to bed, all of you.”

  Sera sat down on the covers beside me. “You intend to check on him, don’t you?”

  “Perhaps. Someone has to protect him. Daneska’s men could come back.” I took another bite, chewing vigorously to hide my defensiveness.

  Hands on hips, Jane gave an exasperated huff. “If they dared return, and I’m not saying they would…” She straightened to her full height as if towering over my bed might lend her more authority. “But if they were foolhardy enough to come back, what makes you think they wouldn’t attempt to kidnap Georgie again?”

  I took another drink of water before explaining. “Because, as you say, they aren’t foolhardy. Georgie is here. Safe inside Stranje House. And they’ve already lost one of their number to Miss Stranje’s prowess with a gun. I don’t think they would be so daring, not with servants and all of us to protect her. But Lord Ravencross is a different matter. They need only put a bullet in him to get paid, and he has one lone servant to protect him, MacDougal.”

  Jane countered feebly, “You’re forgetting Mrs. Evans.”

  “Phfft.” I popped a grape into my mouth. They all stayed quiet for a moment, mulling over my reasoning.

  Jane bristled. “Well, I don’t like it. What do you intend to do, roam the perimeter of Ravencross Manor all night watching for murderers?”

  “No. There are too many ways someone could sneak past.” I took the ham out of the bread and ate that.

  Georgie rubbed her arm, thinking. “What if each of us took a section of the grounds to guard?”

  Jane whirled on her. “You’re not going anywhere out of the house. Not after what happened this morning. You heard Tess. You’re safest inside.”

  Sera shifted uneasily. “Besides, if we all went out, Miss Stranje would be bound to notice. Sometimes I feel as if she has invisible bells tied around our necks. She always seems to know.”

  “Or she has clever ways of discovering it.” Maya didn’t credit our headmistress with being as all-knowing as the rest of us did. “We have the additional problem that in the darkness, if only four of us are walking the grounds, a skilled assassin could easily slip through our net.”

  I wiped the crumbs from my mouth and took another sip. “There’s an easier way.”

  “Oh!” Georgie blurted too loudly. “I know what you’re planning to do. You’ll—”

  We heard footsteps outside the door. Madame Cho. Everyone scattered to their beds. I quickly stuffed the remaining food beneath the covers and scooted down, head on my pillow.

  The door cracked open and Madame Cho shuffled partway in. We had practiced pretending to sleep often enough that we knew to keep our breathing slow, loud, and rhythmic. She came to my bedside and gently brushed hair away from my face.

  Checking.

  I imagined her squinting at me, worried, silently scrutinizing her patient. The others don’t like Cho as much as I do. She is a mystery, strong as sword steel and yet she has the touch of a grandmother. A grandmother I never had. I am her favorite, or so I tell myself.

  Grandmother or no. Tonight I had to deceive her.

  I stirred as if in restless slumber, shifted and turned away, sinking deeper into the pillow. Satisfied, Madame Cho tucked the covers around my shoulder and glided quietly out of the room, shutting the door behind her. But she is tricky, crafty as an old cat, and so we waited, counting our breaths, knowing she continued listening at the door. At last we heard her soft footsteps drift down the hall.

  Georgie was the first to come padding back. “You’ll climb into the manor, won’t you?” She guessed this because of that night in London when I’d thought we needed to enter Lord Castlereagh’s town house by stealth and I’d told her that I would climb the wall, enter through a window, and then pull her up. Someday I would tell her about the first time I had to climb a wall. But not tonight.

  “What?” Jane’s whisper blew hot in my ear, and carried all the urgency of a scream. “Climb through his window? Are you mad? You can’t do that. You could get shot. Or worse, caught. Then you’d be ruined.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I have to protect him. You know what Daneska is like. She won’t let her assassins’ failure today deter her. If anything, she’ll hire better, more skillful killers. If you truly care about me, you’ll help me sneak out of Stranje House without Madame Cho noticing.”

  Sera stood at the end of my bed. “Through the passageway?”

  I nodded.

  In silence, I donned my dark blue running dress. I would blend with th
e night just as I’d blended with the woods that morning. Georgie handed me her knife to replace the one I’d lost in the field. I checked the balance; it would have to do. “Sharpened.”

  “Of course. Just as you taught me.”

  I strapped a sheath to my calf and slid the blade into it. Jane went to the oak paneling along our back wall and pressed the latch that led to a secret passage. As soon as the panel opened, my two pet rats scampered out and danced around my feet. I tossed Punch and Judy a morsel of bread. They snatched it up, stuffed the bread in their cheeks, and scurried into my out-stretched palms. I handed them to Sera. “Keep hold of them, will you? I don’t want them following me outside.”

  She nodded.

  Jane blocked the secret passage. “Mark me. If you’re not back by sunup we’re coming after you.”

  Circled around me, they all nodded, looking stern, except I sensed the worry beneath their bravado. I had the uncomfortable urge to hug them, but of course I would never do such a thing. If I had, it would’ve alarmed them even more. They know I am not by nature demonstrative. “If anything goes wrong, you’ll hear me. You know how loud I can be.”

  “Like a roaring wind,” Maya said, with more admiration than I deserved.

  I turned away from them and ducked into the pitch dark of the secret passage. I knew every bend and turn through the thick walls of Stranje House by heart. Instead of going up to our secret room in the attic, I took the narrow stairs down. The first turning to the left was difficult to catch; I ran my fingers lightly along the crumbling plaster until I found the slender opening. I slipped through and from there I headed along the back of the house until the passage behind the first-floor gallery opened up.

  Once, not so very long ago, Miss Stranje had said that I knew these passages better than she did. I doubt that. She was born here and ran through them as a child. But I do know them well. In those dark days when I first came to Stranje House, these passages had been my sanctuary. It had made me feel safe knowing I had a hiding place and, more important, that I had a way out, an escape.