Hearing the sound of a key unlocking the door at the end of the corridor, Drake straightened and walked to the cell door, blocking any view of the interior to protect Sir John. Drake was the last of the Jacobite traitors in this wing, so the visitor would be for him. All the other prisoners had been hung and were long past expecting anyone.
The guard opened the door at the end of the corridor, swinging his chain of keys and gesticulating to this second distinguished visitor. Edmund’s bob wig and sedate brown frock coat passed for aristocratic elegance as he entered, swinging his walking stick. Drake grimaced but continued to block the cell door.
“Ahhh, my dear cousin. How considerate is our monarch to allow the condemned traitor these last few minutes with his family.” Edmund’s arrogant smile belied his words.
“Don’t count your traitors till they’re hung, Edmund.” Drake waited. Edmund had not come here out of the kindness of his heart.
“Oh, have no fear of that, cuz. I have an ally who is prepared to testify you were on the moon, should I ask. He rather resents the interest you have taken in his past. Just what did you think you would gain by angering a man like de Lacy?”
Drake laughed to cover the gasp from behind him. Edmund would speak more freely if he thought he were alone.
“Amusement, dear Edmund. But surely even Lord de Lacy would not perjure himself for amusement. You go too far.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Edmund replied in all seriousness. “You had to be confident of your position to come back here. And de Lacy has as much an interest in seeing you out of the way as I do, I gather. That niece of his is a thorn in his side, and your unseemly interest in her has not been helpful.”
The admiration in Edmund’s voice bordered on the infatuated, and Drake gave his cousin a look of disgust. “De Lacy is a villain, but you are only a fool. Why couldn’t you be satisfied with Pamela and politics? Why do you need it all?”
Edmund shrugged gracefully. “Pamela is a bit of a bore. I can understand your disenchantment. But she bears the next heir to Sherburne, and it will be much more convenient if I hold that title instead of you. And with you out of the way, de Lacy is free to remove that niece of his without interference, so we will all live happily ever after. Except you. And the girl. Who does that make a fool?”
Drake’s fingers wrapped around the bars of his cell as if he could rip them from the stone walls to get at Edmund. Eyes blazing, Drake swore, “If you touch one hair of Eileen’s head, I will see to it that you and de Lacy are drawn and quartered, Edmund. This I swear.”
Edmund turned green and stepped back a pace, but the metal door between them gave him courage.
“You will have to do it from the grave, cuz. You’ll swing before you see her again.”
With a jaunty grin he lifted his walking stick in salute and strode away, leaving Drake to writhe in agony and frustration behind locked bars.
He had all but forgotten the man hidden behind him until Sir John coughed and took a tentative step forward.
“I think we had better go to Eileen quickly, Sherburne. De Lacy is not a man to act hastily unless forced. I rather suspect Eileen is providing the force.”
Drake’s jaw muscle twitched with anger, but his eyes were bleak with the helplessness of his situation. “You had better have Michael gather some of his friends and go to her. I will find some way out of this hole, but I fear it will not be in time.”
Sir John met his gaze grimly. “After what I have just heard, you will be a free man before the next session. Give me the name of your barristers.”
Sitting among the fallen leaves of red and gold, Eileen read the letter of warning sent by Drake’s uncle in Versailles. If, as the letter said, de Lacy had joined his friend, Avignon, no good could come of it. The comte had carried out his threats to reveal her presence in France. If de Lacy wished to put an end to the threat she posed, Avignon would make an admirable accomplice.
Staring at the peaceful setting of the convent walls slumbering in the October sunlight, Eileen felt the icy chill of premonition. Drake had found her mother so easily. What would keep de Lacy from doing the same? De Lacy, of all people, must know Elizabeth was not dead. It would take only an elementary step of logic to trace the daughter through the mother.
The sharp kick of small feet inside Eileen’s distended belly warned of the difficulty of escape. No longer could she disappear at will among the leafy trees or hidden passages. Just walking from place to place grew more awkward with each passing day. Running and hiding would not save her from danger this time.
The lack of word from Drake was the deciding factor. If the court convicted him, he would never tell her. She would read the condolences from his solicitors before she ever knew of his peril. No word at all meant he had no good news to relate. She had promised to remain here, but what if he could not make good his escape? The Tower was a formidable place. Perhaps he had only promised return to ease her fears. He lied more easily than she.
Crumpling the letter, Eileen made her way down the hillside. The little novitiate guarding her watched her progress anxiously but knew better than to offer aid. When they reached the convent wall, she hurried to find Elizabeth.
Eileen exhibited no surprise when her mother appeared shortly after she returned to her room. For a community without words, news traveled fast. With studied care she continued sewing Drake’s ring into the hem of her cloak.
“What are you doing?” Elizabeth lost no time in quibbling over her use of speech.
“I have no chain to hang it on, and I do not wish to lose it,” Eileen replied.
“There is little chance anyone would steal it here. You need not hide it.”
“I cannot stay here. De Lacy is in Paris.” Eileen knotted the thread and broke it with her teeth. Then laying the cloak aside, she began removing the small store of clothing she had accumulated these past months.
“For the love of heaven, child, where else can you go? Do you intend to live in the woods for the winter? Or ride out of here on mule-back in your condition?”
Eileen ignored her mother’s sarcasm, knowing it came of fear rather than anger. “The good father has a carriage, and he has promised to allow me to go anytime I desire. He cannot deny me now.”
“You cannot go alone,” Elizabeth declared firmly.
“I can do anything I want to do.” Eileen shoved the garments in her canvas pack.
“Mother of God, you are even worse than your father! You cannot leave until morning at the very least. Father Chardin will not go down into the village until then. That will give me time to pack my bags and say my farewells. When you give birth to my grandchild, I intend to be there.”
With the firm stride of a vigorous woman, Elizabeth left her startled daughter staring at the door closing behind her.
Chapter 21
England-France, October, 1746
“Michael, I’m frightened.”
Michael swung from the window and sat down in the chair facing Diane’s, taking her hand reassuringly. “You have been strong through all of this. It will only be a little longer.”
She glanced up, her face paler than usual and her eyes anxious. “I don’t understand why all of you must go to bring Eileen back. Why cannot just Sir John go? Or you? What is it you are keeping from me?”
She was much too perceptive, and Michael shifted his shoulders uneasily beneath his hampering coat. Sir John had grown grim and taciturn these last days and even Michael did not know all his thoughts.
“Drake wishes it. I do not know more than that. We are leaving Auguste with you. I cannot believe Edmund would do anything rash while we are gone. There is nothing to fear.”
“Yes, there is, but you will not tell me! Can you not see how much worse it is when I do not know? My irresponsible brother should have no say in the matter! Would I could go to London and tell him what I thought of him. Had he not insisted on keeping his precious word and marrying Pamela, none of this would have happened. He is a fool.”
“He bought family peace with his foolishness,” Michael reminded her quietly. “It is the one thing he did that your father approved and was not easily undone. Then when Lord Westley offered to take Edmund off his hands, Drake had no choice. You cannot understand these things. Drake may occasionally be impetuous, but his family has always come first. You should know that.”
Diane stared at her fingers. She should be ashamed of herself. She knew Drake had agreed to her father’s wishes to keep her from fretting over their continual arguments. He had answered her every whim, protected her from reality, and she complained because he could not give her the impossible. Now her brother sat in prison for a crime that was not his, and she could do nothing.
“I’m sorry, Michael. I should not have said that. I do not understand why he has not married Pamela yet. The child is due any day. I am glad I do not go out in society. I do not think I could hold my head up long. Just enduring Edmund is wearing me down. I cannot blame you if you will not take Eileen back, but it would make Drake’s plight easier, I should think.”
Michael rose from his seat and paced back to the window. “If it will ease any of your burden, I will pretend these last months never happened.”
The misery in Diane’s face did not lessen, but she nodded agreement. “That might be best. Drake tells me he hopes to have his name cleared shortly. Perhaps then he will feel free to marry Pamela.”
Eileen rode beside her mother in the carriage taking them from the valley. Their leave-taking had been tearful, and even now her mother looked uncomfortable in the simple woolen gown that had been provided for her.
But Eileen could not deny her relief at having this companionship. Carrying this child was frightening enough. To carry it alone and on a journey such as this would be petrifying. Eileen gratefully squeezed her mother’s hand.
The priest had insisted on leaving them with friends who could carry them by coach to another town and to another coach and another friend of the church who would see them safely to Calais. The weather had not yet grown chilly, and the journey promised to be a smooth one, if only she could make the horses go twice the speed.
Eileen stared out the coach window at the passing landscape and wished for the faith that had her mother counting prayers on her rosary. If only she knew how Drake fared, it might ease this band of steel crushing her chest.
A frown puckered the bridge over her nose as Eileen caught a glimpse of the road ahead. She caught at Father Chardin’s cassock to warn him, but the coachman had already spied the obstruction. The carriage slowed for the tree blocking the only passage out of these hills.
A spate of rapid French ensued between the priest and the driver. As the coach drew to a halt, the old man reassured them, “There are men already working on the problem. The delay should only be minor.”
Eileen’s frown did not relax. What men would be out in this desolate area working on a tree that had so conveniently crossed the road? There had been no storm, no wind. She did not like this at all, but she was chained to the seat by the responsibilities she had somehow acquired. The babe in her womb responded to the tension with a fusillade of kicks that made her wince, and she looked up to find her mother’s sympathetic eyes watching her. No, there would be no running away this time. She was fairly trapped.
When Peter de Lacy opened the carriage door, Eileen was prepared for him. She had counted the numbers of men in the woods surrounding them and knew there was nothing one old priest and two women could do to fight them. She met her uncle’s cold gaze with the defiant tilt of her chin.
“Uncle Peter! You have come just in time to rescue us. Father Chardin, this is my uncle, Lord de Lacy.” Eileen clenched her mother’s hand so tightly her nails bit into the fine skin. She shielded Elizabeth’s terrified face from the two men as well as she could. She prayed her mother would have the good sense to follow her lead.
Peter de Lacy met her greeting with a grim smile. “How fortunate that we arrived when we did, or we would have missed you.” His gaze studied the hidden figure against the far wall, and his voice lost some of its smoothness. “Sister Elizabeth. What a pleasant surprise. I had not expected both of you. Father, I must thank you for caring for my family so well, but now that I have found them, I will relieve you of the burden.”
Father Chardin frowned anxiously. He glanced at Eileen and her mother, but they both hid their fear.
“It may take them the better part of the day to remove that tree, Father,” Eileen said, releasing the good man from his obligation. “Why don’t you return to the convent while we go with my uncle? I will tell them in the village of the delay and perhaps they can send more men to help.”
De Lacy suppressed a frown but his jaw muscle jerked angrily.
“Perhaps you are right, my dear, but I hate to be parted from you so abruptly.” The priest hesitated, apparently waiting for an invitation from their relation. When none was forthcoming, he chose the wiser course. “I will expect you to write and tell us you arrived safely. Go with God’s blessing, my dears.”
With a flutter of gowns and caps and kisses, the two women disembarked from one carriage and walked around the fallen tree to the other. De Lacy stalked at their elbows, steadying their progress with a firm hand, while his men picked up their tools and gathered their horses.
A band of tension shackled Eileen’s spine as the old coach turned around, leaving her in the hands of the enemy. She may have led a frivolous and useless life until now, but she felt certain she had just saved the lives of two men. Would that she could do the same for her own and her mother’s.
Eyeing Eileen’s increasing figure as he handed her into the carriage, de Lacy commented caustically, “I see you have gained more than your tongue since we last met.”
He turned a jaded eye to the woman who still appeared a nun even without the habit. “Ahhh, Elizabeth. Have you decided you have gone long enough without a man? You did not used to be so prudish, I remember.”
Eileen watched her mother’s face grow gray and panicky as de Lacy held her arm in a most insinuating manner, and the band of tension snapped. “Leave her alone or I will scream until even the nuns in the hills hear us. I have named you to the good father, and they will know who to blame. You will not escape so easily this time.”
She jerked her mother’s arm from his grasp. He released her mother to meet her gaze with interest. “Now that you have so cleverly bandied my name about, I suppose you think you are safe from my wrath?”
Eileen made room for her mother to enter the carriage, but she did not tear her glare from her uncle’s. “I am no fool. Leave my mother alone, and I will be as silent and simple as you can desire. Touch her again, and I will scar more than your jaw.”
De Lacy’s hand instinctively went to the jagged gash that he had received at a five-year-old’s hands. With cynical respect he bowed agreement. “If you play the part as well as the night we met, we shall go along smoothly.”
He strode away, leaving one of his men to close the carriage door.
White-faced, the two women stared at each other while the carriage lurched into movement. They had only to look out the window to see the precariousness of their position. Half a dozen men rode on either side of the carriage, rough men with the bearing of soldiers. It had been an Irish army that had beaten back the English on the field of battle only two years ago. These men looked to be of much the same caliber.
“How can you speak so calmly to him?” Elizabeth gritted from between clenched teeth. “I want to rip his entrails out through his nose. If he had a heart, I would eat it.”
A wan trace of amusement crossed Eileen’s face at this vehement outburst from a woman who had once thought to take holy vows. “He means to kill us. The longer we delay, the more chances we have of escaping. It would pay to keep our wits about us.”
Eileen boldly put her words into action. De Lacy made the mistake of thinking a silent woman a non-communicative one, but both Eileen and her mother had years of experi
ence in communicating without words. Perhaps the innkeepers and their patrons did not quite understand the distress these two silent women spoke of with their hands and eyes, but a trail of suspicion grew and murmured behind them wherever they went. None dared actually defy de Lacy and his bodyguards, but all remembered him.
As they traveled, word spread in advance of their arrival. The Englishman was treated with less and less respect while the two women became objects of some reverence. Eileen did not know what rumor had grown around them, but she was treated with awe and respect, her every wish anticipated except the one she most craved. Freedom they could not provide.
Irked by the accommodations in one small village, de Lacy appeared in the doorway of the spacious chamber where Eileen and Elizabeth made themselves at home. He glanced around at the linen-covered feather mattresses, the bathing tub, and porcelain washbowl and pitcher, and snarled. “I’ve half a mind to move in here with you. Or throw the two of you in the stable they offer me.”
“Your gallantry exceeds your morality, my lord,” Eileen replied. In de Lacy’s presence Elizabeth retreated into a frozen shell, and Eileen felt compelled to fill the gap. “Except you may find a small rebellion on your hands. From what little I understand of the language, there appears to be some tale circulating that my mother is a saint. You don’t deal harshly with saints in these lands.”
“Bahhh, it is that religious whining that has brought you to this in the first place. Not that I hold you guilty of such pious leanings, my dear niece.” He gave Eileen’s swollen figure a sardonic look. “’Tis a pity you cannot be less like your father and more like me. As it is, I certainly don’t need another brat claiming my lands. Your days of luxury will soon be at an end.”
Elizabeth froze in a corner of the room. Eileen knew she must drive her uncle from the room to ease her mother’s fears, but she wished dearly to understand why this man had destroyed all their lives.
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