“Do you know when the court martial is to take place?”
James shrugged and returned his attention to his paper. “Were he not Badbury’s son, I should say today, but there is bound to be some political interference. Perhaps in a few days’ time.”
“Will you find that out for me too, please, James? I wish to know, for I have been, however unwittingly, involved in what he has done.”
“Of course,” James said. Then he looked over the top of his paper at Hugh. “I expect this has all been a bit of a shock to you, but don’t worry, Hugh—it will be over soon.”
“You’ll let me know today?”
“You may be sure of it,” James promised, buried once more in his paper.
Hugh was fairly certain his brother didn’t notice him leave.
…
Murray disguised any surprise he felt at his master’s uncharacteristic return to his lodgings before the morning was over. He brought Hugh a cup of coffee, then left him in peace in the sitting room while he made himself busy elsewhere.
Hugh was thankful that he was of the orderly mind and habit that tended to attract such amused comment from others, for it did not take him many minutes at all to calculate the amount of his funds he could access immediately, and what he would have to write off as lost to him. He enjoyed a most comfortable competence, which, together with his army pay, meant he had been able to put a good deal of money aside over the years when he had been in the Peninsula and his needs were few.
The next thing he did was proceed to Hatchards book shop, his heart twisting painfully in his chest as he neared Albany. He purchased a copy of Cary’s New and Correct English Atlas, which the bookseller assured him contained the most accurate and up-to-date maps of the country.
He spent several hours studying the maps, committing routes to memory, until he heard James’s voice in the hall. He swiftly closed the atlas, placing on top of it a copy of Henry V he had left lying on the desk for that purpose. By the time James entered, Hugh was industriously scribing a letter of invitation to Emily.
“You have had me running about all over, Hugh,” James complained as he came into the room. “I have found out what you were asking, at great personal inconvenience, I might add.”
“It is very kind of you,” Hugh said, getting to his feet and inviting James to take a seat.
“No, I can’t stay, but I didn’t wish to commit this to writing. Lindsay is due to be tried next Monday. His father is insisting on some sort of representation, can you believe? One would think he would wish to be rid of the stain on his family’s honour as swiftly as possible rather than drag it out.”
Hugh felt he could breathe again. That was time enough for what he had in mind. “Do you know where he’s being held?”
“As to that, I can’t believe you had to come to me to ask—he’s at Horse Guards! Honestly, Hugh, sometimes I wonder if you were dropped on your head as an infant.”
“I didn’t hear anything about him at Horse Guards,” Hugh started.
“Well, of course you didn’t. Did I not tell you it is all being kept secret? Yet again his father has pulled strings—I can’t tell precisely who he knows, but it’s evidently someone with influence—and they have moved him from the Blues’ guard room to a set of living quarters on the upper floor, overlooking Whitehall. God knows why he is being shown such favour, for a traitor is still a traitor, no matter his rank.”
So much for a presumption of innocence until all the evidence was in and weighed. James’s words were confirmation, had confirmation been necessary, of Hugh’s belief that his course of action was the only one possible.
“Thank you, James,” he said, and shook his surprised brother’s hand. “It is very good of you to go to such trouble for me.”
“Nonsense,” James said. “I shall see you anon, Hugh.”
As Hugh watched him leave, James’s scarlet coat suddenly blurred in his sight as he realised it would probably be the last time he saw him.
Chapter Seventeen
It was shortly after seven that evening when Hugh set off for Horse Guards. He thought that was late enough to ensure he was unlikely to encounter any of his colleagues, yet not late enough to attract notice.
He had never paid a great deal of attention to the layout of the building, something he now regretted, but he was aware there existed a set of chambers on the upper floor, which a previous commander-in-chief had ordered to be created in case he ever wished to use them. Theo being incarcerated there made his plan much simpler for, unlike the Blues’ guard room, the rooms were private. One staircase led to them from the part of the building containing the administrative offices where Hugh worked and another private staircase led to them from the stables.
He walked idly across the tiltyard and through the archway to the rear of the building, in the manner of one who was merely taking some fresh air after a day spent poring over dusty books. As he passed the stables he saw there was a bored-looking sentry on duty by the door to the staircase.
Hugh made his way back into the building and climbed the stairs, finding his way along the corridors until he reached a last short flight, which led to another locked wooden door with another sentry outside. Hugh had his story clear in his head—he had James’s tacit permission for this visit, and while James was not posted to Horse Guards and was merely a major in an infantry regiment, he was on Wellington’s Personal Staff. Hugh was confident that fact would carry huge weight with any soldier.
As it turned out, after watching Hugh’s ascent of the stone stairs with scarcely a flicker of interest, the sentry did not even question Hugh’s announcement that he was there to see the prisoner. He merely gave something that approximated to a salute before unlocking the door for Hugh. Hugh, surprised and relieved, remembered what James had said about Theo’s arrest being kept so secret. It was unlikely that the sentries set to guard him had any idea either who he was or what he was charged with. They probably thought he was some officer who had propositioned the Military Secretary’s wife or some such minor thing. Still, had this fellow been one of Hugh’s men, he would have had his ears for such an incurious attitude, for he could not believe standing orders were to admit any and every visitor who might happen along.
Concerns about the continued appalling security fled from his mind when he stepped into the room, the guard pulling the door closed and locking it behind him. Hugh wasn’t entirely sure what he had expected to find behind the door, for while it was a set of chambers it was also serving as a prison, but the dark wood wainscoting, crimson curtains and a painting of the Duke of Marlborough’s triumph at Blenheim were definitely not in line with his ill-formed assumptions. There was also a desk and chair set by the window and a large bed in the far corner of the room.
The light from the generous number of candles flickered at the draught caused by his entry, sending shadows chasing over the figure standing in the middle of the room and briefly hiding Theo’s expression from him. Theo was in his shirtsleeves, wearing the dark green pantaloons of his uniform and boots that were not quite so immaculately polished as Hugh was used to seeing on him. He was paler than usual, and there was a dark bruise across his left cheekbone. Hugh took in all of that in an instant, and then he saw the wariness in Theo’s grey eyes as he regarded Hugh.
“This is something of a surprise, Captain Fanshawe.”
Hugh’s immediate impulse to pull Theo close, to know he truly was there and was safe, at least for now, was stifled by Theo’s odd manner.
“I brought you a newspaper,” he said instead, awkwardly, removing the copy of The Times from beneath his arm and placing it on the desk. “I was not sure if you would have been provided with one or not.”
“They do seem to be a little stuffy about the civilised things in life when it comes to prisoners,” Theo said. “Most odd, really.”
The matter-of-fact way in which Theo referred to
himself as a prisoner felt like a knife to Hugh’s heart. “Theo,” he choked out. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry. I swear I never meant for this to happen.”
Theo looked completely bewildered, but at least he looked more like the Theo who Hugh knew, not the distant, guarded one who had been looking at him a moment ago.
“What are you talking about?” he asked. “How is this anything to do with you?”
“It’s James,” Hugh said miserably. “Well, it’s not James, for it’s my fault, all of it, but I told him how poor our security was and mentioned that no one had questioned you in your comings and goings, but it was only to show him where the problem lay. And then he got this maggot in his head about what you did for Sophia when you were only being kind, and he went to the Adjutant General and told him all. Now you have been arrested when you are entirely innocent, and it is all because of my stupidity.”
“Oh, Hugh,” Theo said, and he was Theo again, looking almost as though he might laugh. “I do not think the Adjutant General dances to Major Fanshawe’s tune. Your brother’s accounting may not have done me any favours, but I would scarcely have been arrested for procuring invitations to a ball for some friends. Were they to do that, the prisons would be overflowing.”
“But—”
“No buts, Hugh. There is something else going on here, and you’ve done no damage, I promise you.”
The crushing weight and pain that had seized Hugh’s chest ever since he had heard the news eased very slightly. He drew in a shaky breath.
“Oh, Hugh,” Theo said, and he sounded fond. “Have you been…? Yes, of course you have, because that is who you are.” He gestured towards the chair at the desk. “But where are my manners? Please, be seated, and tell me how your sister does. She seemed to cause quite a stir at the Spencers on Saturday.”
“No,” Hugh blurted out.
“No?” Theo’s eyebrows raised. “Forgive me, Hugh, but I believe myself perfectly well equipped to judge a social success when I witness one.”
“No, I mean you will not do this. We must talk.”
“We are talking, are we not? At least, I appear to be. Your contributions so far have been a little lacking but I wasn’t going to mention that.”
“Theo.” Hugh glared at him. “You know damned well what I mean and I will not let you divert me. We must talk, and I need—” He suddenly recalled himself and glanced at the door he had come through, lowering his voice, “I need to tell you what we will do.”
“Do you indeed? Well, in that case I must not stop you,” Theo said. “Please, carry on.”
So Hugh told him in a low voice of the plan, how he would subdue the guard and come for Theo on Saturday, just before dawn when the streets would be almost empty of any who might recognise them, and how they would make their way out of London. “But we must not head for the ports, because those are the first places they will look. They will expect us to make for the South Coast, I am sure, because it’s closest, but we can’t go there in any case because it is also most heavily guarded, due to Napoleon. We should head north, but not by the Great North Road because of the tollgates. There are many other routes, less direct but safer for that very reason—nobody who might encounter us would know for sure where we are heading. I have a copy of Cary’s New and Correct English Atlas—”
“But of course you have,” Theo murmured. He was leaning back against the desk and regarding Hugh with a mixture of amusement and wonder.
“Be serious, Theo, for God’s sake. I have looked and there are routes we can choose where we will never end up hemmed in. With the free traders so active along the North Yorkshire coastline, we can buy passage to the Low Countries, or in the very worst case we can buy a boat. Selling the horses would help pay for it.”
“You expect me to forfeit my horses?”
“We can’t take them with us,” Hugh snapped, exasperated. “Theo, why must you turn everything into a jest? It’s your neck, for God’s sake! This is the only way.”
“You don’t think I will prove myself innocent?”
“No.” Hugh’s tone was final. “They believe you to be guilty and they refuse to see the truth. I told Dalrymple about your snuffbox, I told him it was not in your character to engage in such business, but he wouldn’t believe me. The Adjutant General too is convinced. You are condemned before you set foot in the court martial room. They will see you dead.”
“So you come up with this wondrous, wild, madcap scheme to break me out so that you may spend the rest of your life as a penniless fugitive?”
“Not entirely penniless,” Hugh muttered, because Theo sounded a little too much like James did when he made fun of him. “I shall make withdrawals.”
“What of your family?”
Hugh swallowed. “George and James have enough credit with those who matter that it will not affect them overmuch. There will be a scandal, I know, but it will be forgotten in time, and Emily will see to it that Sophia and Mama are not harmed too badly by it, I’m sure.” His voice was raw by the time he finished speaking, and his eyes stung. He would not do such a thing to them for the world, but he had no other choice. They would be hurt and it would be his fault, but if he did not do this, Theo would die.
Theo’s head dropped forward and he stared at his boots for a time before he looked back up at Hugh, unwontedly serious. “Hugh—”
“I cannot,” Hugh said suddenly, fiercely. “God, Theo, they will see you dead and I cannot.”
Theo stepped swiftly forward and pulled Hugh into his arms.
Hugh buried his face against Theo’s neck, feeling the powerful, fast pulse that beat there, refusing to consider that it might soon be stopped. He clutched at Theo’s shirt. “I will not let it happen.”
Theo let out a long, somewhat unsteady breath, and then a small laugh. “How do you do this to me, Hugh? For you of all people to come up with such a plan, throwing over everything you hold dear.”
“They will kill you,” Hugh whispered against his skin, and closed his eyes to keep back the tears that would have fallen.
Theo pressed his mouth close against Hugh’s ear. “I have powerful friends,” he said, his voice very quiet. “All will be well, Hugh—I promise you.”
“You can’t know that,” Hugh protested.
“I can, and I do. I can say no more, Hugh, but I promise you, what you fear will not come to pass.” He drew back then, and looked Hugh full in the face. “You cannot—you must not—follow this path you have decided upon. You will ruin yourself, and for nothing, you understand? It is not necessary.”
“But what if—”
“Here is what we will do: every night, at seven o’clock, I will close the curtains at the window. If you see them open past seven one night, you will know all has not gone as I expect and we shall do as you suggest, although I do draw the line at selling my horses.”
Hugh slowly nodded. He was not so convinced as Theo that all would be well, and he worried that Theo would only realise things were hopeless when it was already too late. He could, however, see the difficulties inherent in rescuing someone who did not wish to be rescued.
“Oh, Hugh.” Theo pulled him close again, sighing as he did so. “What a damnable mess I have got myself into.”
Hugh thought that Theo had something of a talent for understatement. But the mess they were in seemed not to matter so very much right at this moment, not when he was being held by Theo like this, feeling the steady beat of his heart through the shirt he wore, the strength of his arms as he held Hugh, and the warmth of his back beneath Hugh’s hands. Theo’s arms tightened yet further round him for an instant, and then he let him go and stepped back, leaving Hugh bereft.
“I think perhaps you should go,” Theo said. “I don’t know what tales you told in order to see me, but I cannot think your visit was sanctioned by those with the proper authority and I don’t wish to draw attention down o
n you.” The suggestion of a smile tugged at his lips. “There is also the fact that if you stay I am likely to forget all sense and lay you down upon the bed.”
For a wild instant, Hugh was disappointed that Theo was employing such self-control, but then he returned to his senses.
Theo was watching him, heat suddenly in his gaze. “Do you have the least notion of how you look when you command me to do something? I had not seen that in you before tonight, and I confess I should like to see more of it.”
“It’s all very well giving you commands,” Hugh protested indignantly, “but you won’t do as I say.”
“Oh, there are circumstances in which I would most definitely do just as you say,” Theo said, and the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes had Hugh feeling uncomfortably warm all of a sudden.
“You must go, Hugh,” Theo said, and he was abruptly serious. “Do not do a single thing you would not usually do. Stay watchful, and stay safe. Do nothing to draw attention to yourself, and above all, do nothing about this idea of yours to go to Yorkshire. We will plan it together if it is necessary. Now go, before I forget myself and refuse to let you leave.”
When Hugh knocked upon the door to have it unlocked again, it took a few moments for the sentry to respond. When finally he did so, he looked dazed and heavy-eyed, as if he had just woken from a restful nap. Through the outrage Hugh felt at such a dereliction of duty, he reminded himself that poor security at the moment was their friend and so said nothing beyond wishing the man a good evening.
He descended the stairs, his mind slightly relieved by Theo’s confidence that all would be well, although Hugh could not really believe it. Among all other indications, it had not been lost on him that Theo’s court martial was scheduled for a Monday. It was quite likely, Hugh thought, that the day had been chosen in the expectation the verdict would be guilty, so that his sentence would be carried out on the very same day. The army did like to be orderly and keep its executions to a Monday where possible.
A Minor Inconvenience Page 14