GovernessForaWeek

by Barbara Miller

  “And I must risk you.”

  “It’s not in me to sit idly by.”

  “I would come to.”

  “We need someone here to pay the ransom if a ransom is requested and to take care of Henry.”

  “Why would it not be requested? I live in momentary expectation of us being contacted, yet all of you are sailing off to France.”

  “If it is his former wife, she wants her children, not money.”

  “And if it is not her, who is it?”

  Marian wanted to spare her mother as much worry as possible. “I don’t know who else would have a reason to think Wyle is that wealthy.”

  “Still, the poorest would envy his competence.”

  Marian put on her cloak. “There is no point in disputing.”

  “Go if you mean to go. Is Wyle coming for you?”

  “He—a carriage is being sent. I must be ready.” She hugged her mother, handed her the documents, then made for the backstairs with her valise. There she found Hill fully dressed but still looking like death warmed over.

  “The carriage waiting in the stable yard. Is that for you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I am coming with you.”

  “With your head? You might fall over at any moment and die.”

  “Don’t you understand?” He licked his dry lips and put a far from steady hand on her arm. “If Charlotte is harmed or killed I don’t care what happens to me. If you don’t let me come, I will find a way.”

  “I cannot say I blame you. Here is one of my father’s old pistols. Keep it by you. I have the other.”

  As they got into the carriage, she questioned her choice of dress, her riding habit from which she’d blotted out the blood. But there might be a need for horses. The pocket of her old gray cloak held her loaded pistol and her boot a dagger. The small bag contained a change of shirt and a dress for Charlotte if—no, when—they found her.

  She thought of the girl as she had last seen her and tried to project caring thoughts Charlotte’s way. If she was right about Cole, then not only had Wyle walked into his trap but she was doing so as well and she was taking poor Hill along with her. But it was too late now to take any precautions against the fate that might await her. And even if she knew for certain, she had no choice but to go.

  Before they reached the ship she decided she had to apprise Hill of her suspicions.

  “I have been thinking about the false message we got that sent Wyle haring off to Woolwich.”

  “Yes, they thought me no danger and they were right.”

  “I think the plan was to abduct me as well.”

  Hill stared at her. “To take care of them, you mean?”

  “No. My cousin wants me. I’m assuming he is having trouble taking over Father’s estate without me as his wife. So his intent may be marriage.”

  “But you refused him.”

  “And since Wyle informed him we are engaged, that may have driven him to desperation.”

  Hill stared out the window into the darkness. “It makes sense.”

  “So if you do not want to go…”

  “Not go? Do you think I care if it’s a trap?”

  “No I expected you wouldn’t. You do believe me? You don’t think it’s a fantastical imagining?”

  “It also explains how your cousin knows so much so early.”

  “Yes but will Wyle grasp the plot?”

  “Sometimes, if it’s not his idea, he can be critical of it.”

  When they reached the dock a boat was waiting. Cole’s ship was not at the dock but sat off in the Thames waiting for cargo. They were rowed out to the Corunna. Her cousin was waiting on deck. ”Good, you made haste. Who is with you?”

  “A groom. We may have need of a messenger who can ride.”

  “Wyle is below and I will keep him there until we are past the point of returning.”

  “We will wait up here.”

  “Do not fall overboard. No, you wouldn’t.” He left then sitting in the lee of the cabin on a crate.

  “Why did you conceal my identity?” Hill whispered.

  “I don’t want Cole to count you as a threat to his plot. Go to the other end of the ship and keep your ears open. The seamen will not be expecting an English groom to know any French.”

  Hill nodded and made his way forward, staggering either from the wash of the retreating tide or his lightheadedness.

  She could hear their voices in the cabin below, Wyle’s steady rumble in spite of his stress and Cole’s hissing whisper as though he were a conspirator. Finally, long after the sails were unfurled and they were rolling across the waves Hill returned to sit on the crate and cradle his aching head. They might be two days at sea if the wind was against them but it seemed to be driving them southeast which was where they wanted to go. She cringed as boot steps sounded on the companionway.

  * * * * *

  When he finally left off planning and came on deck, Wyle paid scant attention to the two sailors malingering by the aft cabin until he noted the tiny size of the booted feet of one of them. He looked further in the dim light of the stern lantern and made out a gray cloak. “Oh, no. Marian, is that you?”

  “Of course it’s me.” She stood but did not pull Hill to his feet.

  “But why? Why put yourself in danger when I need you at home.”

  “I have given my mother a power of attorney to act for me. You’re not the only one who can write documents.”

  “I know and I suppose she can pay the ransom as easily as you can but I did not want you with me. By God. Hill, is that you?”

  “Quiet, Cole thinks he’s a groom.”

  “What game are you two playing?”

  “After all your talk about courage,” she hissed. “Was that just lip service to get me to the altar? Did you mean none of it?”

  “Courage is situational. It takes a great deal more to wait patiently at home than to actually go out and face the unknown.”

  “Ah, then I am a coward after all. Indeed I could not bear to wait for you.”

  “I want both of you to stay on the ship. They will land me in the mouth of the Gironde River in a small boat and wait for me to return with Charlotte.”

  “No, nothing would be more fatal. Neither of you would return.”

  “If I am discovered, you can escape. Your cousin will help you try again.”

  “Yes, Cole. I don’t suppose he is going upriver with you.”

  “It’s not his place to go.”

  “And what if Charlotte is not with Louisa?” she asked.

  “She must be. Who else would want her?”

  Marian gripped the rail. “What if you don’t find her there? Possibly you will be captured by the French if they have been alerted.”

  “Who would alert the French? I return and seek intelligence elsewhere.”

  “And if the ship is gone?” Hill whispered.

  Wyle spun toward him. “Why would it be gone?”

  “Has Louisa ever asked for the children before?” Hill rubbed his forehead.

  “We’ve been at war. There was small chance she could ask. Charlotte must be with her. Who else would want to steal her?”

  Marian blew out a tired breath. “Well I had thought of Isabelle.”

  Wyle’s laugh was a dry cackle. “You can’t be serious. She can’t plot her way out of a garden and why would she?”

  “I too discarded that idea.” Marian cleared her throat. “When a problem seems insoluble my father always said to turn it on its head.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Did you get to talk to Frobisher before we left?”

  “No, we were to lunch at White’s. I didn’t even think to send him a note. I suppose he’ll hear it from the servants.”

  “Frobisher came to the house and I told him. He did not send the message that called you to Woolwich.”

  “That’s strange. No one knew what I was talking about when I arrived.”

  “Someone did not want you r
iding with us,” Hill said.

  Wyle stared at them.

  Hill stepped closer. “Someone who has made a point of discovering your circumstances and Louisa’s.”

  “Greenway? This is a fantastic accusation. He is helping us find them. And why would he do this?”

  “If not for Isabelle, I would have been riding with them,” Marian reminded him.

  “Are you saying he meant to abduct you?”

  “All of us. The children to compel me to marry him.”

  Wyle shuddered. “And it would have worked. You would have sacrificed yourself to save them.”

  “Of course.”

  “But what would he have done with them. They could identify him.”

  “I don’t know. I hope he would have let them go.”

  “Didn’t his offer of help come out of the blue so quickly we jumped at it?” Hill asked.

  Wyle stared at both of them. “But if you knew it was Cole, why did you come?”

  “To warn you, of course,” Marian said desperately.

  “Would you two keep your voices down?” Hill whispered fiercely. “Some of these scum do know a bit of English.”

  “Cole knew about the abduction before it could have been common knowledge.”

  Wyle staggered against the rail. “But why take you to France?”

  “I don’t know why he would need to get me out of England in his power. But maybe we are only going to France because he now has Charlotte and can lure you there and have you killed. I don’t imagine he cares whether you see your daughter again or not.”

  “If I’m dead he figures your mother won’t fight him for the estate. Are you sure?”

  “That’s the hell of it,” Marian said. “We cannot be sure. So we have to pretend that he is helping us. Once we land, we may well be safer to stay in France. Our troops cannot be so far from the border now.”

  “True.” Wyle sighed. “And what if Charlotte is not with Louisa and Cole doesn’t have her either?”

  “Then we go back and wait.” Marian stared at the rolling sea. “Our choices are limited. But since this way has been made so smooth for us, I’m inclined to think Cole has hired a house somewhere in Louisa’s neighborhood where you can be conveniently ambushed.”

  “If I knew for certain, I would smash his teeth down his throat.”

  “Not until he leads us to where she is. You are cold under fire and you are going to have to be very cool if you want to save her life.”

  “And yours,” Wyle added.

  “I do not imagine mine is in any danger. But one word about our marriage would put a period to your existence, so be careful what you say.”

  He stared at her. “Did you always plan to go, or only after you realized you were stepping into a trap?”

  “It’s only a trap if we don’t know about it,” Hill whispered.

  “What a pair you are. He wanted to embrace Marian which would have been fine in front of Hill but not any of the crew who all reported to Greenway.

  “He wants you,” Wyle whispered. “I can see it in his eyes.”

  “But why? I have never given him any encouragement. My fortune is nothing compared to what he has made running French brandy into the country.”

  “I had thought him a legitimate shipper.”

  “I would not put it past him to sell our arms to the enemy if he could get away with it.”

  “What?”

  “Father always suspected smuggling trade was the source of Cole’s wealth which is why we so seldom visited his house. He flaunted the signs of it too obviously—the best brandy, the paintings, gilt furnishings.”

  “Then he wants you for the respectability you would bring him, besides your father’s property.”

  “I had not thought of that. So it must pain him to think of me as a governess.”

  “I swear, if he is responsible for terrifying and endangering my child, I will kill him.”

  “In good time. For now we have no choice but to let him lead us to her.”

  “And no one to help us if things go awry.”

  “Hill will be useful in a scrape. He has a pistol. So do I.”

  Wyle glanced at Hill who had sat down again and seemed to have fallen asleep. “He is as tenacious as a terrier. It gets better and better. The three of us against a crew of thirty-odd sailors. Why was I worried?”

  “That’s the spirit. When do we reach the Gironde?”

  “At this speed before dawn tomorrow. You need to get some sleep.”

  “I could not. Don’t you see? This is all my fault. If not for me Charlotte would be perfectly safe.”

  His scarred hand reached for hers, picked it up and pressed it to his lips. “You are not to be thinking that. You are not responsible for your cousin’s machinations.”

  “If he has hurt her I will kill him myself.”

  “You may have to fight me for the privilege.”

  Chapter Twelve

  When Marian awoke she was nestled among the extra sails in the locker. Wyle was sitting beside her looking at the ocean.

  “What time do you make it to be?” she asked.

  “Nearly noon by the bells. We should be anchoring soon.”

  She sat up and gave a sigh. “Will you miss it? Soldiering?”

  She could see his mouth twist into a wry smile. “Not now that my private life is fraught with danger.”

  “That was an unkind question.”

  “But a valid one. Your cousin advised me not to resign since I would be safer as a soldier than a private citizen.”

  “That isn’t true, is it?”

  “No, if he turns me in, I’ll be imprisoned if I’m in uniform. If he induces me to dress as a civilian, I’d be hung as a spy without a trial.”

  “Then we must keep an eye on him.”

  A boy appeared then with mugs of tea on a tray and some slices of course buttered bread.

  “I’d better wake Hill if I can.”

  “He’s already about,” Wyle said.

  Hill made his way back to them.

  “You seem to have found your sea legs,” Marian observed.

  “The pitching in my head is canceled out by the roll of the ship. They are going to wait offshore ’til nightfall and run into the river under cover of darkness, then put us off in a small boat.”

  Wyle blew out a tired breath. “We have to wait, the hardest part. I have plenty of gold French coin for a carriage or horses, whatever we can get. No one utter a word of English after we disembark.”

  “Yes,” Marian agreed.

  * * * * *

  Marian occupied the time with examining in turn all the things that could still go wrong at this point. She had a plan to be sure but one she could not divulge to either Wyle or Hill until it was time. Once they had Charlotte, she could only hope they would trust her to take care of matters. Hill might. But Wyle in so many ways was still an unknown quantity. He was too much like her. He was always the one who wanted to make everything safe. He would never trust her to handle anything but if he had to choose between saving her or his daughter she prayed he would save Charlotte.

  They sailed as far up the Gironde as was navigable past at least one town for she saw the lights. The longboat would have to be rowed against the tide. The Corunna would drift back to the ocean to wait off Pointe de Grave for them.

  When the boat was lowered, Wyle went down after the two oarsmen were in place. Marian followed him.

  “You must not go,” Cole said when Marian descended the rope ladder to the ship’s longboat.

  “You convinced me I must. As you said, she will need me when we find her.”

  “But this is France.”

  “And I speak French better than any of you, including your crew, so let us stop arguing and debark.”

  Cole finally followed her down to the boat, though she doubted he planned to do so before she showed her determination. Besides Hill, there were five crewmen. That brought the odds to two to one. She smiled and Wyle must have read her t
houghts for he nodded his approval.

  An hour later they landed at a waterfront town, Blaye, she supposed, which boasted an inn. They left two men with the boat while Marian dickered for the price of a carriage and team.

  Cole paid the inn keeper with a gold Louis coin. Wyle tried not to notice this but it would have been obvious not to remark on it.

  “These were minted in Belgium,” Cole said, “and captured by British forces. How nice to be able to trade with the enemy in their own coin.”

  She was not happy three of the crew accompanied them. And she made Hill’s seasickness an excuse for him riding inside where nothing could happen to him. He wisely kept his hat on and his head down.

  “Have you ever been to this house before?” Cole asked.

  “No, how could I?” Wyle asked. “I divorced my wife by proxy. I have not seen her for years.”

  Cole rubbed his large chin. “Perhaps we should try a clandestine approach.”

  “No,” Marian said. “I will go to the door. The two of you will stand to each side. When they let me in, you will crowd after me.”

  “All of us?” Wyle asked.

  “No, only you two and our groom. We do not want the world to know our errand. I trust you have been discreet with what you told your men, Cole.”

  “Of course,” he said, scrutinizing Hill. “I suppose your groom is to be trusted.”

  “Implicitly,” Wyle said.

  Marian had rehearsed her speech. She would tell the servant that she had information touching on the children. Even if Charlotte were held here, she thought she would be admitted.

  The house was a small stone structure of two floors fronting close on the road. The carriage barely had space to pull off the way. It went better than expected. The feeble retainer backed away, bowing and making no attempt to block the path of Wyle, Cole or Hill. He showed them into a salon where a fragile blonde woman sat beside a weary man in a French Dragoon’s uniform. When he perceived Wyle’s coat he drew his sword left-handed with a gasp of pain. “You are English.”

  “Yes, as it happens,” Wyle said.

  The man staggered to his feet and took a protective stance in front of the woman. “Then we are indeed overrun and without warning.”

  “Not yet.” Wyle had not drawn his weapon, though Cole was holding a pistol. “Please put your weapon down, Greenway. Louisa, I am searching for Charlotte.”