Fool's Paradise: A Lady Priscilla Flanders Mystery

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  Roxanne shifted uneasily beside her. The blood had dried on her face and hands.

  “How are you?” asked Priscilla in little more than a whisper.

  “If we survive this, I will heal. No bones are broken.”

  “What happened? Were you seen entering or leaving the granary?”

  “No. We were betrayed by someone I should have been able to trust.”

  “Who?”

  “Miss Redding.”

  “She betrayed you?” Shock riveted Priscilla.

  The old woman had seemed grateful for the care Priscilla made sure she had in the bedroom at the back of the office. She had thanked Priscilla over and over and had expressed her happiness that she had been freed from the granary. Miss Redding had been the last person Priscilla would have guessed would try to hurt those who had helped her.

  Roxanne sighed. “Not intentionally. She believes the miss is trying to help us.” She glanced around, but none of the soldiers seemed to care about their whispering. “She saw the miss and hurried to assure her that she and the others were well, thanks to the miss . . . and to me. The whole house of cards came tumbling down.”

  Words failed Priscilla. Why hadn’t one of them taken the time to persuade Miss Redding she was mistaken in her loyalties? It never seemed the right time to reveal that Bellona had left her and the three men to starve to death. Asher and the others came to sit beside them, but no one spoke. There was nothing left to say as they awaited whatever the fates had planned for them. When the footman put his arm around Roxanne’s shoulders and she leaned her head on his shoulder, tears rose in Priscilla’s eyes. Would Neville ever hold her again?

  A low murmur rushed around the circle. Their guards craned their necks to peer through the darkness.

  Something was about to happen.

  Priscilla got to her feet, as did the others. Without speaking, they moved to stand back-to-back, so at least one of them would be facing whoever was coming.

  Bellona pushed past a legionary to step into the circle. As the soldiers bowed toward her, Neville’s story about what he had watched in the cave beneath the Temple of Mithras and Priscilla’s own experience when she had followed Bellona up the fell confirmed the young woman had taken complete control of Novum Arce.

  She walked directly to Priscilla. Gasps erupted from all around when she reached under her stola and pulled out small pistol. She pointed it at Priscilla’s heart as she demanded, “Where is he?”

  “He? Who?” Her stalling sounded silly, especially when she stared at the gun. Beside her, Roxanne began to cry. “Novum Arce is filled with men.”

  “Is acting want-witted the final game you wish to play, Lady Priscilla?”

  “No.” Priscilla heard Roxanne choke and wanted to apologize for not telling her the truth sooner. She wondered how long Bellona had known the truth and why she had chosen to reveal it now. She did not ask. She must let Bellona control the conversation until Priscilla could gauge exactly what Bellona wanted from her. There must be something, or she would have ordered Priscilla killed as soon as Livius and his troops opened the granary door. “As we are tossing aside fake names, should I address you as Bella Beamish now?”

  “Names are not important.” Her tone was cool, but Priscilla sensed her curiosity was real. “Why did you come here?”

  “We were abducted and brought here, if you recall.”

  “No! I mean why did you come to The Rose and Thistle Inn?”

  Knowing that she must continue the charade Neville had begun while talking to Lord Beamish in Stonehall-on-Sea, she replied, “As ironic as it may sound now, we were looking for you. Your father is heartsick over your disappearance, and he asked us to find you.”

  Bella’s explosion of derisive laughter rang along the hill. “That old fool! I never expected he would believe that silly note I left behind in the carriage. Though I have no idea why he would care. He never wanted me when I was younger. Now he considers me a pawn to cement his position with the government. How many times did he tell me if I did not marry as he wished, I would never marry? Well, he no longer controls me, and I can do what I want to do.” Her eyes narrowed. “Which leads me back to my original question: Where is Lord Hathaway?”

  Priscilla steeled herself so she would not flinch and reveal she had continued to hope Bella had failed to recognize Neville. “I doubt you will believe me when I say I don’t know where Neville is, but it is the truth.”

  “He would not have left without you. He is, I understand, your husband.” Her eyes glittered in the faint light. “I must say, Lady Priscilla, you are a lucky woman.” She glanced down at the gun she held. “Or at least, you have been until now. For it seems you have pushed your luck one too many times.”

  She had to say something, anything to keep Bella from firing the gun. “Why are you curious where Neville is?”

  “I need him.”

  “For . . . ?”

  Bella laughed tersely. “No need to be a shrewish wife, Lady Priscilla. I have no interest in your husband as a paramour, though it was amusing to watch him squirm when I pretended I did. Rather, I need his lack of scruples and quick mind as I plan the last details of my army’s offense.”

  “You are going to go to war with spears and shields?” She hooked a thumb toward where Livius was listening. He scowled when she continued. “They can barely keep from falling over their own feet.”

  “And I thought you were supposed to be smart. You are as foolish as everyone else. Those stupes down in Novum Arce are not my army. They belong to Sir Thomas, who wants to remake the world into his beloved Pax Romana. These men here are a part of the skilled army waiting for me to give the command.”

  “To do what?”

  “Get vengeance.”

  “With the help of the French?” She laughed as coldly as Bella had. “Others have attempted to betray England to Napoleon and failed. I know because Neville and I stopped some of them. You will be stopped, too. The British people will not assist anyone trying to hand over our country to our enemy.”

  “French?” A slow smile spread across Bella’s face. “So it was you who followed me the night I last met M. LeChat. I suspected as much, which is why I tried to get you out of the way.”

  “By leaving me to freeze to death in the icehouse?”

  She shrugged. “If Livius had done his job right, your death would have been swift at the bottom of the well. In the meantime, I had Lord Hathaway watched. I should have had my own household under better surveillance.” She frowned at Roxanne who now stood within the shelter of her betrothed’s arms.

  “Who is M. LeChat? That cannot be his real name.”

  “He has another name, of course.” She glanced around the stone circle. “He has helped with arranging for the proper people to be brought to Novum Arce to fulfill my aims.”

  “When you spoke of people being chosen, you were the one doing the choosing.”

  “Or my agents who knew my preferences. Strong men with few morals are my first choice. You would not have been brought here, Lady Priscilla, if you had not intruded when my agents went to collect your husband.”

  “If you think Neville would ever help you hand England over to Napoleon—”

  “You think you know everything!” Bella shrieked, startling everyone, her servants and soldiers alike. “You know nothing. I have no interest in assisting Napoleon’s foolish dreams of ruling the world. He is as misguided as Sir Thomas and the Hanovers, who have crushed any attempts to dislodge them from another man’s rightful place on the British throne. Like three successive Kings George and one foolish Regent, Napoleon will be defeated one day. All tyrants are eventually overthrown while the true kings will regain their thrones.”

  Priscilla struggled to understand the young woman’s ranting. True kings? Her eyes widened in incredulity.
No, Bella could not be planning such an absurd scheme. Then, Priscilla recalled how both Lord Beamish and Bella had spoken of her mother’s Scottish relatives who lived north of the border. As far north as Culloden where English regiments crushed the Jacobite uprising?

  Not quite believing her own words, Priscilla asked, “Are you talking about when Charles Stuart, the Young Pretender, tried to oust King George II?”

  “We prefer to call him Bonnie Prince Charlie, because he was such a fair-faced man.”

  “Perhaps so, but he was also a fool. At Culloden, he refused to listen to his generals who had guided him to other victories. He abandoned the Highlands to save his own skin. What kind of leader is that?”

  Bella sniffed, sounding for a moment like Aunt Cordelia when presented with an opinion she thought unworthy of discussion. “That is what the Hanoverians would have you believe. They were the ones who butchered families and tore them from the soil where their ancestors had lived for generations.” She flung out one hand as she kept the gun aimed at Priscilla. “Now the army I have raised and have had trained at Novum Arce will finish what those brave men could not.”

  “What is this?” asked a tall man as he pushed past the legionaries to enter the circle.

  Priscilla’s half-formed hope that Neville had found them vanished at the man’s French accent. M. LeChat! She heard Asher curse vividly, and Davis and Harrison fired hateful glares at the Frenchman.

  M. LeChat strode to Bella and repeated his question.

  She gave him a seductive smile. “Some unfinished business you need not bother yourself with.”

  “I need to bother myself with anything that could subvert my—our plans.”

  “My plans,” Bella said coldly. “You work for me, M. LeChat. Don’t forget that.”

  Did Bella really believe that? Priscilla saw the Frenchman’s amusement. A game within a game. That was what he was playing, manipulating Bella and letting her think he wanted to help her while he served his true masters in Paris.

  “I don’t have time to waste. If you intend to shoot her,” M. LeChat said, casting an indifferent glance toward Priscilla, “then do so.”

  “I think not.” The deep voice came out of the darkness.

  “Neville!” Priscilla screamed.

  Bella looked around wildly, and Priscilla leaped forward to drive her fist down on the young woman’s wrist. Bella screeched in pain, and the gun dropped to the ground. Asher scooped it up, driving its butt into the side of M. LeChat’s head. The Frenchmen fell, face first into the center stone. He slid to the ground, unmoving. At the same time, Asher pushed Roxanne between him and the other two servants.

  “Kill them!” Bella yelled.

  “Obey that order at the cost of your own lives,” Neville said as he stepped into the circle. “Put down your weapons now. All your weapons. You will not get another warning.”

  “Who are you to give orders to my men?” Bella demanded.

  “The same person who gives orders to my men,” he replied calmly when the grass rustled behind the legionaries guarding the stone circle.

  Two or three men surrounded each of Bella’s soldiers, and light glistened on bare steel as guns were held to their heads. Some of the newcomers were dressed as legionaries as well, but others wore ordinary clothing. Priscilla smiled when she saw Duncan pointing a pistol at Livius’s head. He must have brought the other men with him to Novum Arce. He was grinning like Isaac when her son did something naughty that turned out to be the right thing in the end.

  “I gave you an order,” Neville said, his gaze sweeping the circle. “And I told you that I would not repeat it.”

  Bella’s legionaries carefully placed their weapons, both modern and Roman, at their feet. Bella started to scream out an order, but halted when another man stepped into the light from the lantern.

  “How could you do this to me?” demanded Lord Beamish as he strode to his daughter. “I thought I taught you better than this.” He slapped her across the face.

  Priscilla was not the only one who gasped out in shock at the baron’s brutal treatment of his daughter.

  Bella ignored all of them, save her father. She raised her chin and eyed him as if he were beneath her contempt. “What you taught me? All you ever taught me was to grab power where I could. To wield it without mercy. To think only of what I want and never care about anyone else, even someone as close to me as my own child.”

  “You have a child? How will you ever make a good marriage now?”

  She stamped her foot. “See? All you ever think of are your own goals. I don’t have a child. I would not be so careless as to get pregnant.” She ignored her father’s shock at her unladylike language. “I meant that you care nothing for me other than as a tool to get what you wanted. What else was I supposed to learn from your antics, Father?” She made the name sound like a curse. Turning to Neville, she added, “Demanding hush-money from his fellow lords must be a crime, isn’t it? You are a peer. Bring charges against him in the House of Lords.”

  Lord Beamish began shouting at his daughter, and Bella screeched at him until their words were lost in the mixture.

  Neville paid them no mind as he turned to give orders to his men who had gathered the fake legionaries together. “Tie their hands so you can herd them back to Novum Arce like the beasts they are.” He grabbed two handfuls of Livius’s tunic and stared into the man’s eyes, saying in a deceptively even voice, “You have a single choice if you don’t want to be tried for the attempted murder of my wife.”

  Livius swallowed so loudly that it could be heard over the shouts from the center of the stone circle. “What must I do?”

  “Something you probably have never done in your whole life. You must be honest about Bella Beamish’s plans. If I learn you have wavered from the truth even an iota when you are questioned, I will swear out a warrant for your arrest for trying to kill Lady Priscilla.” He shook the man who seemed to shrink in front of him. “Have I made myself clear?”

  “Yes . . . yes, my lord.” He hung his head, thoroughly defeated.

  In shock, Asher asked, “Are you just going to hand them over to the justice of the peace after what they have done to us?” He held up Bella’s gun. “Step aside, and I will give him the death he would have gladly given us.”

  Priscilla stepped forward and put her hand on his arm. “They will not go unpunished, but shooting him would make us no better than they are.”

  “Listen to her,” Roxanne begged. “Asher, you are not a murderer. Don’t let these people make you one.”

  The gun trembled in his hand, and Priscilla saw the uncertainty in his eyes as he lowered it. “But they—”

  “Have lost,” Priscilla said. She looked at the two Beamishes who were still quarreling at the top of their lungs. “Miss Beamish has abandoned her allies the same way Bonnie Prince Charlie left his.” She glanced at the unconscious man in the middle of the stone circle. “However, I believe it will be discovered that M. LeChat used her to obtain information that he has probably sent back to his superiors in France.”

  “I will take care of him,” said a redheaded man she had seen in Novum Arce. “I will make sure he is taken to London where he can be tried as a spy.”

  “Thank you, Jack.” Neville smiled as he turned from watching the men who had been derided as incompetent by Miss Beamish’s men finish tying the fake legionaries together. “It would seem at least one Bow Street Runner was willing to take on the task of finding Miss Beamish, even though Beamish has yet to acknowledge him. I noticed him ignoring you.”

  “No loss,” said the red-haired man with a chuckle.

  “I hope you were not planning on being paid.”

  “I will let my superiors worry about that.” He laughed again. “Or should I say ours? I suspect we ultimately work for the same man.”


  “Quite possible.” Even now, Neville was clearly loath to name the person who had sent him north. “Jack Fuller, this is my wife, Lady Priscilla Hathaway. Although I’m sure you have already figured it out.”

  He put his fingers up to his forehead as if he were about to tip a cap to her. “My lady.”

  “Mr. Fuller is a Bow Street Runner?” She looked from Neville to the other man in shock. “Why didn’t you tell me that there was a Bow Street Runner in Novum Arce?”

  “I didn’t know until he told me a few hours ago,” Neville admitted with a laugh. “He concealed himself well by pretending to be inept with a spear and shield.”

  “No pretending was necessary,” Mr. Fuller grumbled. He motioned, and four men came forward to help him bind the unconscious Frenchman.

  Priscilla turned to the Beamish servants. Young Davis’s eyes were nearly popping from his skull, and Harrison was helping Mr. Fuller truss up M. LeChat. But Asher still scowled.

  “We are alive,” Priscilla said. “The yearning for vengeance is what started this in the first place. Let’s be satisfied we are alive.”

  “Listen to her, Asher.” Roxanne gently held onto his arm. “The Hathaways have done everything to save us when they could have fled from Novum Arce instead.”

  The footman sighed. “But they lied to us.”

  “For their safety and ours.”

  “True.” He held the gun out to Neville, who took it. “I am grateful for what you have done.”

  Roxanne framed his face with her scraped fingers and whispered, “Of course we are. I hope we would have been brave enough to do for them what they did for us. Miss Beamish was right about one thing. Names no longer matter.”

  He nodded then offered his hand to Neville. “I am sorry, my lord.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for.” Neville shook Asher’s hand then took Priscilla’s. “There is one more thing we need to do before we leave.”