After Dr. Chisolm left, Mattie and Emma came to her side. Mattie held Amy’s hand and looked sorrowfully at her with tear-filled eyes, while Emma examined the bandages.
Emma was about to speak when their mother called from the hall outside Amy’s door, which had been left open.
“Dear, someone is here to see you, are you in a decent condition to receive visitors?”
“Yes mother, she is.” Emma answered for Amy.
Ben entered alone. Evidently, Amy’s mother wanted further words with the doctor.
“Well, how are you, Soldier,” said Ben with forced cheerfulness.
“Not so good. I’m scarred for life.” Amy was trying to be cheerful also, but another attempt to sit up higher in bed caused another spear of pain to pierce her shoulder.
“Scars are a badge of courage,” said Ben.
“I’d rather not have a badge. At least it is in a place where no one—almost no one—can see it.”
Amy looked intently at Ben.
“Ben, why would someone want to kill me?”
Lady Sibbridge looked into the room.
“Girls, I need you.”
Ben watched the girls leave. The door to Amy’s room remained open as modesty demanded. Ben and Amy were alone. Ben wondered if it was intentional on the part of Amy’s mother. He turned to look at Amy, her head propped up on her pillow. She winced again in pain, but she was determined not to becloud her mind with laudanum as long as she could endure her throbbing shoulder.
“If only I hadn’t reached forward to grab the reins,” said a contrite Ben.
“What do you mean, Ben?”
“I think...I’m sure the shot was meant for me. Right now I have a lot of enemies.”
Amy looked sadly at Ben.
“You know, Ben, I’ve received warnings that I am in danger. How can you be sure the shot wasn’t really intended for me? I don’t see how you can know that I was not the target.”
“I am sure of it Amy. As I said, if I hadn’t leaned forward, the bullet would have struck me.”
“Would it, Ben? Did you see where the shot came from? You didn’t, did you?”
“No, but...”
“Look where the bullet struck. My left shoulder. I am sure I was turned slightly towards you. The shot was fired from the bushes and trees that run along beside the River Arne. They are on the west side of the road. They are across the road from our drive. If the shot was fired from just a little ahead of where we were, it could easily have been intended for me. Don’t you see what I mean?”
Amy clenched her teeth fighting the pain.
“Yes Amy. I know what you are trying to say, but I still believe you have no cause for worry. If I hadn’t leaned forward to urge Bucephalus on, the bullet would have hit me.”
“If you were the intended victim, that doesn’t make me feel any better, Ben, but I think you are trying to make me feel I have no reason to fear. Please consider this. Your enemies don’t know where you will be at any given time, but if I have enemies that want to kill me, they know exactly where I will be and where to lie in wait. Your enemies would likely waylay you at the old mill path, where they can get away quickly by riding down the path to the London Road. Do you not see, Ben, that whoever it was concealed himself just before my drive, just before I have to turn into my drive. Whoever fired that shot, Ben, must have been targeting me.”
“Amy, rest assured I know and appreciate your worries, but you’re letting your imagination override common sense. What are the threats to you? You have what are almost assuredly threats that may have existed twenty years ago, not now. And we don’t know if they were threats even then. You might be reading a meaning into that old letter that wasn’t even intended. Any threat to you, Amy, is at best vague, and likely insubstantial. It is very unlikely anyone out there bears you any ill-will, or wishes to do you harm. There is no reason why they should. Tell me, Amy, of any reason why anyone would want to kill you.”
Amy shook her head, not to say no, but because she was confused and uncertain.
“Believe me,” continued Ben, “I am in no way trying to minimize this terrible occurrence, but I have many enemies and we have crossed paths on a number of occasions, and they know where I live now. I am absolutely certain of that.”
He pulled a nearby chair over to her bedside, and sat down close to her. He spoke softly in the hope that any ears outside her door would not overhear what he had to say, and he supposed that Effie at least, would be out there in case anything was needed. And Effie might not have the only ears listening out there.
“I will explain why I am such a target, but I don’t want anyone else to hear. What I have to say is for your ears alone.”
Any looked up at him with curiosity.
“As you know I recently suffered a wound from highwaymen, but it is not just a band of brigands eager for ill-gotten gains that I now face. There is more to it than that. French agents have entered this country intent on assassinating certain of their own citizens. They are men of the most ruthless and dangerous sort. They are fanatics, and unlike ordinary highwaymen, they often care little for their own safety and liberty. They are willing to die to further Robespierre’s evil machinations.”
He could see that Amy was fighting pain and waited for her to settle back against her pillow. She looked solemnly at Ben.
“Are they trying to kill those who have escaped the Reign of Terror and come to England?”
“No,” replied Ben. “They have certain men that they are after, and only they know whom and why.”
“That’s funny,” mused Amy, “that’s what the Frenchman said.”
Ben shot her a surprised look.
“What Frenchman?”
“The one I told you about that visited here, and at Lord Quillan’s house in Bath.”
“He said that?” Ben was quite interested.
“Yes, the Compte...” She had to think a few moments. “The Compte de Blanchefleur. Is something wrong?”
“I don’t know. I’ve just not heard of the Compte de Blanchefleur being in England. I must ask Pierre.”
“Is Pierre one of their targets?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I am sorry, Amy, but I cannot tell you.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“It’s not that. It’s just best that you do not know at this time.”
Amy was not happy at what seemed to her to be a lack of trust. But Ben did not seem to notice.
“Pierre is one of their prime targets, although Pierre is not his true name. For Pierre’s sake, and for the sake of the success of his efforts against the French agents, he has tried to keep his identity a secret. Luring the highwaymen has not been my chief goal. I have been trying to lure the French assassins, but it turns out that they have formed some sort of alliance with the highwaymen. That is why I moved to my grandfather’s house, Hillside House here beside Stokely-on-Arne, because of the attacks on the London Road.”
“I thought the attacks were nearer to London,” said Amy.
“They are, for the most part. But we believe they hide their loot, or at the least, divide it up near here. Each time we follow them, we lose track of them somewhere near here. But we cannot find out where they go. I thought it might be the old mill, and I waited around there for several days without success.”
“So that’s why you were at the mill that day.”
“What day?”
“What day, indeed! The day you mocked me when Turpin threw me in the river and you were pretending to be some local ploughboy.”
“It’s more discreet for me to appear as a simple country swain, rather than as myself. Believe me, you were not the target of my disguise, although it did add to the entertainment value of your spectacular flight through the air, and especially the landing.”
Amy laughed then immediately regretted it. Right now it hurt to laugh.
“They now know where I live and I am a great danger to them. It is their pur
pose to eliminate me as a threat, so it would be wise if I take myself out of their gun sights.”
“You aren’t going to move away from here?”
“I must find another location to operate from. Just for now. It is safer that way. Not for my own safety but for the safety of those that work with me and for the success of our efforts. When we have eliminated this scourge, when we catch them and they receive what they deserve for their evil, then you can be sure I will return. I have another reason to reside at Hillside House now. But it is far too dangerous for me to remain there at this time. I cannot be effective if they are watching me and know my movements. And as what happened yesterday sadly demonstrates, I bring danger to you and your family.”
“If they are after you, then you cannot be causing any danger to me or my family.”
“Never-the-less, I need to go elsewhere. After you were shot, I searched in vain for your assailant, but he had plenty of time to escape while I brought you to the house. I have to go now. I do not believe you were the target but still be very cautious. It would be better, for the present, if you and Emma stop making your visits alone to the hilltop. Especially, since someone might misinterpret why you are looking through Emma’s telescope.”
Ben stood up and put the chair back into its place, then he came back over to Amy and patted her hand. Then with a glance at the open door, he leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on her forehead.
He walked over to the door, and then turned and looked at her. Fearing he may have scared her, he said: “Amy. They are not after you. You are quite safe.”
But deep inside he didn’t quite believe that.
“Please be careful, Ben.” Amy spoke in a weak and shaky voice.
“I will. If you need me, or if anything troubles you, or you see anything that is disquieting, you know where to write to me. Amy, dear Amy, you’ll be with me wherever I am, and if need be I will come to you.”
The words were indiscreet to utter next to an open door where all could hear, but he didn’t care.
He hurried downstairs, nodding to Amy’s mother on the way to the front door. Once outside, he jumped on his horse and galloped off down the drive.
It tore him apart to leave Amy at this time, but he must act to put an end to this terror and menace. To do that he had to go to certain places and do certain things. Things he might never speak of again. Benjamin Anstruther had begun on a mission to put an end to robbery, violence, assassination, and terror, but now he had one that was even more important to him, and that mission was to punish those who had threatened the life of his beloved.
Chapter 28
A few days later, Emma was sitting at the bedside of an improved Amy, reading to her.
Emma’s eyes were red and she was sniffling as she read from Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s great classic novel The Sorrows of Young Werther: “At twelve o'clock Werther breathed his last. The presence of the steward, and the precautions he had adopted, prevented a disturbance; and that night, at the hour of eleven, he caused the body to be interred in the place which Werther had selected for himself. The steward and his sons followed the corpse to the grave. Albert was unable to accompany them. Charlotte's life was despaired of. The body was carried by labourers. No priest attended.”
Emma closed Goethe’s novel, and blew her nose into her handkerchief.
“You know, dear sister, that is not really the best of novels to read to a poor ailing body such as myself,” said Amy with a smile.
“But it’s a great book by a great writer.”
“There are many great books by great writers, and few are suitable for convalescing souls.”
“Fine,” said Emma, “perhaps I shouldn’t have read about his death and burial.”
“No, dear sister,” replied Amy, “that was the most cheerful part. You don’t know how happy I am that he is gone. It’s all the rest of the book that was depressing. I know you don’t agree. You obviously were moved by the book. I didn’t know books like that moved you so.”
“I’m not crying for Werther and Charlotte, I’ve just got a slight cold.”
“Yes, I believe you,” Amy teased good-naturedly. “Bye-the-way, you do realize they better not find you with that book. I don’t think we are supposed to read it.”
“But Goethe is a great writer and poet,” protested Emma.
“I still don’t think we are supposed to read Father’s books.”
“Why not, they are in the library and no one told us not to read them?”
“I’m pretty sure Mother doesn’t know what’s in them. The rows of books in the library are just decoration to her. But I rather suspect that Mrs. Parkhurst does know, and she would be shocked if she found you reading a book like Young Werther.
Their literary discussion was interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Hide the book,” Amy said urgently.
Emma looked around for a hiding place.
“Quick, under my pillow.”
She shoved it under Amy’s pillow.
“Miss Amy.”
Effie’s voice came from outside the door.
“Come in,” called Emma.
Effie came in to inform Amy she had visitors.
“Who?”
“Sir Frank and Lady Ramsey, Lady Amy. Let me help you sit up, milady.”
As Effie reached for the pillow, Amy remembered what was under it. While Effie seeing the novel certainly wasn’t the same as the reproachful Mrs. Parkhurst, never-the-less restricting the number of people who are aware of your vices to a minimum, preferably no one, seemed the best course to follow.
“No! Just leave it as it is. I’m too ill to sit up.”
“But Miss, you said just after breakfast that you felt so much better.”
“Well I’ve changed my mind. I feel worse now.”
“Oh Miss, you’re not getting sick.”
“No, I just feel worse. Don’t worry, and don’t say anything to my mother.”
Amy wasn’t sure her conversation with Effie made sense, but she was distracted by the Ramseys as they entered her room.
As well as she could while lying on a pillow, Amy nodded and greeted Sir Frank and Lady Ramsey.
“Let me help you sit up, dear,” said Lady Ramsey heading in Amy’s direction.
“No, no thank you,” said Amy. She doubted that the Ramsays would betray her secret, or even care for that matter, but everyone seemed to be doing what they could to bring Young Werther out from his hiding place.
“Are you feeling very sick, child?”
“No, Lady Ramsey, I am much better than I was. I’m just tired and have to lie like this—because of my wound.”
Lady Ramsey looked distressed. Sir Frank seemed to notice Emma for the first time sitting demurely in the chair near Amy’s bed.
“How’s our little scientist?” he inquired, and noticing her red eyes, “Have you been crying?”
Emma shook her head, blew her nose, and said: “No, I’ve just got a little cold.”
“Well take care of yourself. We don’t want you getting sick, too.”
Sir Frank turned to Amy.
“Well, how is our wounded warrior?”
“I am recovering well.”
“Have you had any fever?” asked Lady Ramsey.
“No. None whatsoever.”
“That is really good.”
“Imagine Esty,” Sir Frank said to his wife, “I fought the colonists for four years, and not even their sharp shooters could get me, but poor Amy gets shot in front of her own house.
“Frank,” she reproved him, “you’ll scare her and make her feel worse.”
“Warriors don’t scare that easily, do they Amy,” he said hoping he didn’t worry her. “Well, anyway, we brought you something to make you feel better. Effie, fetch that package.”
Effie hurried out and brought in a box that the Ramseys had left on the small table on the upstairs landing. Amy and Emma were curious about its contents. Sir Frank gave the box to Amy. She strugg
led up on her pillow and opened it, and then looked up at them with a bright smile.
“It’s solid chocolate, dear,” said Lady Ramsey.
“Solid chocolate?” asked Emma. “Does that mean you can you eat it?”
“No dear,” Lady Ramsey laughed, “you need to have the maid grind it and mix it with sugar and milk. It’s just like having your own chocolate house.
“I don’t know why,” said Sir Frank, “that most of the chocolate houses have gone out of business in London and been replaced by coffee houses. Chocolate is much better.”
“I think it’s because coffee costs a lot less,” said Lady Ramsey.
Amy grinned and thanked them. She appreciated the tasty gift. Emma offered to take it down to the kitchen right away, so the cook can prepare everybody some.
“No, keep it for yourselves,” said Sir Frank, “They say it has medicinal benefits and you both look as if you need it.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to help you sit up?” Lady Ramsey asked again.
Amy was resting her head on her hand, and gently slipped it under the pillow. Young Werther was still there, safe and sound.
“No thank you, Lady Ramsey,” she said, with a mischievous smile.
“As long as you’re feeling more chipper Amy,” said Sir Frank, “I think I should go see your Father. Come dear, we should let her rest up for dinner.”
“You will be eating dinner with us?” asked Amy.
“No dear, we have an appointment to eat dinner at the Brewminsters, but we will be back soon.”
He asked Emma how she was enjoying the telescope. While Lady Ramsey said her goodbyes to Amy, Emma, holding the box of chocolate, said she would take it down to the kitchen.
As they started to leave, Amy called to them. A question had just occurred to her.
“Sir Frank, that night in Bath, a guest called Lord Eskman was present. Do you know him?”
He thought for a moment.
“Not very well, in fact, that was the first time we ever dined with him, but we have heard some mention of him.”
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