“And you?” Sam asked in an effort to change the subject.
“I got a letter from my sister. She’s pregnant with her first child and I am very happy for her.” Susanna looked anything but happy, her eyes filling with tears and the tip of her nose turning a telltale shade of pink as she turned away from Sam. Sam put his hand over hers in a gesture of comfort, trying to understand what brought on this bout of misery in the normally composed Susanna. Why would her sister’s pregnancy affect her so? He supposed it had to do with her own lack of prospects and advancing years, and blurted out the first words of comfort that came to mind.
“You will make a wonderful mother some day,” he said, watching her face to see if he got it right. Susanna’s head whipped around as she stared at him open-mouthed.
“Why did you just say that?” she demanded, her cheeks turning crimson with embarrassment.
“Isn’t that why you are so sad? Your sister is pregnant and although you’re happy for her, you’re deathly afraid that you will never have a child of your own.” Sam nearly bit his tongue at the look on her face. Susanna went pale, her eyes opening wide in shock. Why couldn’t he have just kept quiet? He’d only distressed her further. Maybe she hadn’t even thought of that, but now he put the idea in her head and brought attention to her age. You blathering idiot! Sam thought, mentally kicking himself. What on earth possessed you to spew that bit of homespun wisdom?
But Susanna suddenly gave him a sheepish smile, squeezing his hand in a gesture of appreciation. “Your Abbie is a very lucky woman, Corporal. Not many men would have been so perceptive. You’re right; I am happy for Laura, but deep down I fear that I may never experience the joy of motherhood. Love seems to have passed me by.”
Sam gazed up at her, wishing she could see how lovely and special she was instead of believing herself to be plain and past the age of marriage. “Susanna, I can’t proclaim myself to be a great expert on love, but I believe that sooner or later everyone has their chance. The problem is that most people don’t wait for it; they grab the first person they find for fear of being passed over. It takes a world of courage to hold out for the right one and not give in to society’s pressure. I wager you’ve had an offer or two, but you couldn’t go against your heart. Am I right?”
Susanna nodded at him, still smiling. “So, did you hold out for the right one or grab the first one that came along?” she asked as she handed him a cup of ale, watching him with her head cocked to the side. She’d suddenly brightened up, her sorrow forgotten. “What is she like, your Abbie?”
“She’s beautiful, spirited, and oh-so opinionated,” Sam replied, smiling back at her. This conversation had steered him into dangerous waters, and he needed a way to gracefully change the subject.
“Do you not mind?” Susanna asked, watching him intently.
“Mind what?”
“Mind that she’s opinionated. Most men find that rather an unattractive quality in a woman, at least the ones that I’ve come across.”
“My father always said that a woman without spirit is like a night sky without the stars and the moon,” Sam replied.
“Very poetic. Is your mother a spirited woman then?”
“Yes, she is, and so are my sisters — all of them. A man who is intimidated by an intelligent woman is just a coward who wants a handmaiden rather than a life partner.”
Susanna looked at Sam, an expression of amusement on her face. “You’re a surprising person, Corporal Johnson, and I thank you for making me feel better. You have a way of putting things into perspective. I don’t usually wallow in self-pity, but I suppose everyone has their moments of doubt.”
“I’m glad I could help.” Sam handed the plate back to Susanna, unable to stomach another bite. All that talk of love left him feeling surprisingly sad. He was preaching about something he knew nothing about. It’s not as if he had ever been in love with the right or the wrong person.
“I have some news that might cheer you up as well. The Americans have been defeated at Brandywine Creek. Washington’s army fled northeast, and General Howe is poised to take Philadelphia. This might be a turning point, don’t you think?”
Sam felt as if he had been kicked in the stomach as he looked at Susanna’s joyful face. She thought the news would make him happy, but he felt a cold hand of desolation squeeze his heart. Could Abbie’s information have made any difference? He doubted it, feeling the crushing weight of defeat as he considered the consequences of this British victory. He’d always believed that the Americans would win, but what if Susanna was right and this was the turning point in the war? What if they lost? Sam slid down the bed, pretending to be tired. He wanted Susanna to leave so that he could grieve in peace, but she wasn’t done with him yet.
“Corporal Johnson, are you all right? You look pale all of a sudden. Shall I summon my father?” Susanna put a hand to his forehead to check for fever, shaking her head in confusion.
“Thank you, Miss Freeman, I’m quite all right. Just a little tired, I think. I’m just so overcome by the news of Washington’s defeat,” he added for good measure.
“Yes, it’s something, isn’t it? I would have told you sooner, but I didn’t think you were well enough to talk about the war. Well, I’ll let you rest then.” Susanna leaned over him and kissed him on the forehead, a totally unexpected gesture which left him feeling even more lonely and vulnerable. He closed his eyes to hide his misery from Susanna and kept them closed until she finally left.
October 1624
Paris
Chapter 64
Being a Catholic cardinal must be a lucrative business, Valerie thought as the coach rattled up to Neuville’s residence in the Saint-Germain quarter the following morning. The street was lined with handsome townhouses belonging to French nobility, their stone facades a testament to the world-famous architecture of Paris. Neuville’s house was set back from the street, surrounded by old horse-chestnut trees that provided some privacy, as well as shade during the warmer days of summer. Alec pushed open the iron gate, and they walked underneath the green canopy of the leaves overhead toward the front door of the residence. It was too quiet, as if a sleeping spell had been cast on the house and all the inhabitants were in deep slumber waiting for someone to come and wake them up. Alec banged the brass knocker several times, but there was no answer from within. The house remained silent and guarded as if holding on to a secret it had been entrusted with by its owner.
“There must be someone here. I can’t imagine that a house like this would be left completely unattended,” Alec said, pulling Valerie around the corner and toward the outbuilding in the back, which judging by the rutted track leading to the gate must serve as a carriage house for the cardinal. Alec pushed open the door, peering into the dim interior. Several carriages were stored inside; cleaned and polished to a shine should the cardinal have need of them. A young boy sat in the corner, whistling a tune and carving something from a small block of wood, deftly wielding the knife as it chipped away pieces of bark.
“Hello there,” Alec called out. “You are just the person I was looking for.” The boy looked up in surprise, lowering the knife and the block of wood.
“How can I be of help, sir?” he asked, confused. Not many gentlemen invaded his sanctuary in this way, and the boy was clearly thrown off-guard.
“I was to have a meeting with Cardinal Neuville regarding something of great importance, but he seems to have forgotten all about it,” Alec shared in a friendly tone. “Might you know where I could find him? It’s terribly important.”
The boy looked at Alec with uncertainly, torn between following orders, and fear of insulting a gentleman who clearly had urgent business with his employer. Fear seemed to have won, for the boy got to his feet, coming closer to Alec and Valerie. “The cardinal left early this morning, sir. He had an urgent message from his father last night, you see. He’d been summoned home, but he couldn’t leave for Loudun right away. He had an important meeting with the archbishop this m
orning. That’s likely why he forgot his appointment with you, sir.”
“Does the cardinal plan to be away long enough to warrant closing down the house?” Alec asked, gazing at the boy.
The boy just shrugged his thin shoulders in a typically Gallic gesture of uncertainty, lifting his hands up and gazing heavenward as if only God knew how long the cardinal would be away. “He didn’t tell us, sir, but the cardinal keeps only a small staff and sometimes gives them time off while he travels. I suspect they might have left already since most of them have family outside of the city that they like to visit.”
“And what about you? Don’t you have family?”
“No, sir. I’m an orphan. Besides, I like being here by myself. I have the run of the house.” The boy suddenly looked scared, as if realizing that the gentleman might tell on him. “That is to say, I…,” he faltered, unsure of how to extricate himself from the situation.
“Don’t worry, son. I won’t say a word to the cardinal. Your secret is safe with me. As a matter of fact, no one needs to know that I was even here. Agreed?”
The boy nodded enthusiastically, happy to be off the hook. Alec pulled a coin out of his pocket, making sure the boy saw it before asking where the archbishop could be found.
“His name is Jean-Francois de Gondi, and he lives on rue Barbet de Jouy.”
“Thank you, you were very helpful. The cardinal must have told me of the meeting with the archbishop, and I forgot. How very thoughtless of me.” Alec tossed the coin to the boy, who caught it effortlessly and bit down on it before putting it in his pocket.
“I completely understand, sir. I’m glad to have been able to help you.” The boy grinned sheepishly, obviously getting Alec’s meaning. For a coin, he was more than happy to forget Alec had ever been there.
“Au revoir,” he called as Alec and Valerie left the carriage house and headed back to the street.
“I think we can probably intercept him before he leaves for Loudun. I would prefer not to go back there again,” Alec said, helping Valerie into the coach. “I can’t help wondering if someone warned him about my inquiries or if this is just a coincidence.”
“I don’t know, Alec, but Madame Jarnot took a great risk in telling you the truth when no one else would. I hope she didn’t come to any harm. You heard what she said about the mayor.” Valerie was suddenly scared for the woman. If Rose had been murdered, what was there to stop someone from murdering Berenice Jarnot?
“We came across Monsieur Barras just as we were leaving town and went to see Madame Jarnot directly from there. As far as everyone knew we left after visiting Rose’s grave. I hope that this is just a coincidence. No one in town told us anything, so the mayor would have had no reason to urgently send for his son,” Alec reasoned out loud. “Let’s see if he’s still with the archbishop.”
They had no difficulty finding the address the boy had given them as there were only a few houses on that street, one grander than the next. A sleek coach stood in front of the archbishop’s residence, the coachman gazing with longing after a pretty young woman who passed by with her maid. The woman stared straight ahead, but the maid turned around, giving the coachman a saucy smile, which he returned tenfold, forgetting all about her mistress.
“Pardon me,” Alec said politely, “but is this the residence of the archbishop? I’m afraid we had a meeting, but I got terribly lost.”
“Yes, sir,” the coachman answered naively, “but he’s meeting with Cardinal Neuville at the moment. I expect they’ll be finished soon. We are due to leave the city within the hour.”
“How foolish of me to have missed my appointment,” Alec said, his face full of regret. “Thank you, young man. You were most helpful. I’ll just wait until the cardinal leaves.”
“Alec, what are you planning to do?” asked Valerie suspiciously as Alec got back into the coach. “You have that look on your face.”
“Oh, what look is that, my dear?” Alec asked with a wicked grin.
“The look that means you have a plan, and I’m not a part of it.”
“Oh, you are most certainly a part of it,” Alec replied. “Now, here’s what I want you to do.”
Chapter 65
Alec had a good view of the archbishop’s house from where he stood; ready to give Andre the signal. The plan was simplicity itself. Just as the cardinal’s coach pulled away from the archbishop’s residence, Andre would drive into its path, distracting the coachman while Valerie would be clearly visible in the window, terrified by the near-accident and ready to swoon. The few moments of confusion would be just enough for Alec to slip into the cardinal’s carriage unnoticed. He would improvise from there. All he needed were a few private moments with the man, and if he couldn’t see him in his home, he’d confront him in his carriage, which would give him privacy. After all, it wouldn’t do to accost a cardinal of the Church on the streets of Paris.
Alec tensed as he saw a man exit through the door held open by a servant. His red robes billowed in the morning breeze, sun glinting off the gold cross just below his breastbone, a red skullcap covering his dark head. The cardinal walked toward the carriage briskly, his mind clearly on whatever he discussed with his superior, but even the stern look on his face couldn’t hide the beauty of his features. His lean face looked as if it were carved from stone, with high cheekbones and full lips that were way too sensuous for a cleric. The cardinal’s dark hair was peppered with gray, giving him an aura of mature authority that went well with his robes of office. The cardinal walked with assurance and grace, very much aware of his height and good looks. He finally got into the carriage, and the coachman took up the reins, ready to navigate the magnificent coach through the congested streets of Paris.
Alec waved to André, holding his breath as the coach lurched around the corner, nearly colliding with the oncoming vehicle. He heard Valerie’s scream as he left his hiding place and approached the cardinal’s coach from the rear, so as not to be seen by the coachman who had jumped off the box and was now berating Andre in rapid French, calling him every name he could think of without offending the delicate ears of his frightened passenger. Alec yanked open the door and jumped in, taking a seat opposite the stunned cardinal.
“Good morning, Cardinal Neuville,” Alec greeted the cardinal cordially, a dagger clearly visible in his hand. “I thought we might have a chat before you leave Paris. I hope I’m not inconveniencing you too greatly, but this will only take a few minutes of your time. My name is Alexander Whitfield, by the way. I’m Genevieve’s maternal uncle.” Alec was pleased to see a look of fear in those deep blue eyes that were regarding him with such weariness.
“Whitfield, you say? I don’t believe I’m familiar with the name,” the cardinal replied carefully, clearly buying himself time to think. He remained calm, his back erect and his gaze direct as he observed Alec, waiting for his next move.
“Allow me to remind you, Your Grace. You knew my sister, Rose Whitfield at the Convent of Loudun, and fathered her daughter, Genevieve.” The cardinal looked at Alec as if he were excrement on his expensive shoes, his face tightening with anger and his hands balling into fists at his sides.
“Mr. Whitfield, I seem to remember a young woman who gave birth to a bastard and drowned herself in shame. The girl is not my child, and I resent the accusation.” The cardinal might have been proclaiming his innocence, but he grew tense; his shoulders hunched beneath his robes, and his generous mouth stretched into a thin line as he stared Alec down. Alec didn’t think his reaction was that of an innocent man.
“So you deny having seduced my sister, Your Grace?” Alec asked politely.
“I absolutely do. Now get out of my coach, you ruffian.” He squared his shoulders, his face contorted with indignation as he ordered Alec to make his exit.
“I’m so terribly sorry, Your Grace. I must have been mistaken,” Alec replied, getting up to leave the coach. He could see the look of satisfaction on the cardinal’s face. He clearly thought he was off the hook
and would go on as before. Alec suddenly whirled around, taking a seat next to the cardinal and forcing him into a corner, the point of the dagger pressing into his neck and almost piercing the skin.
“Let’s try this again, Your Grace,” Alec suggested, giving the cardinal a savage smile.
“Tell me about my sister, and I’d like to hear the truth this time.” The cardinal tried to move out of the way, but Alec grabbed his head, pressing the dagger hard enough to break the skin. A thin trickle of blood ran down onto the robe, making an ugly dark stain on the smooth crimson cloth. The cardinal paled visibly, his hands shaking in his lap.
“All right, you barbarian,” the cardinal spat out. “I’ll tell you the truth if you leave me alone.”
“Whether I leave you alone largely depends on the nature of the truth,” Alec replied. “Start talking, Your Grace,” he hissed, using the title with unveiled sarcasm.
“Yes, I knew Rose,” he admitted wearily. “I met her in Calais on my way back to Loudon. She was very beautiful and maddeningly devout. You see, I’d never met anyone like her before. She had the type of faith one doesn’t see often, not even as a priest. She was special.”
“So you seduced her?” Alec asked, his voice full of incredulity. But the cardinal shook his head in denial, careful not to get too close to the dagger at his throat.
“You see, Mr. Whitfield, I never chose this vocation. I was destined for the Church while my oldest brother would inherit the estate and my other brother would go into the army. It was my father’s wish, and I wasn’t given a say in the matter. I never chose a life of celibacy and self-denial, but once I took my vows, I accepted my fate and remained chaste. You might not believe me, but I take my office very seriously, and did so while I was a parish priest as well.”
The cardinal turned his head to face Alec, a look of resignation on his face. Alec grew still, realizing he was about to hear the truth at last.
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