by Pearl Wolf
Sebastian sat back down and held his head in his good hand, a tacit acknowledgment of the truth of Denville’s words. When he looked up at his aide, pain was etched on his face. He said in a pleading voice, “Allow me to do something, Hugh, I beg of you. Give me some role in this or I’ll go mad.”
How odd, Olivia thought, when she noted a lift of her spirits. Hope began to replace the despair she had lived with throughout Sebastian’s illness. Perhaps she was meant to save the kitten’s life. Perhaps the poor thing would save hers as well.
“You’re a game little thing,” she crooned aloud, holding the soft ball of fur to her face. “You’re full of spunk, puss. How brave you were to climb out of danger. I must give you a name, my little man. What shall I call you? I’ll have to think of something suitable.”
She rummaged through her bag and found the cape she’d worn when first she came to Wilson Academy and put it to practical use. She secured the top of the cape on an overhanging branch of a shade tree and spread it into a makeshift tent to shelter her and her small kitten. By the time she’d finished, it was almost dark. She crawled inside with the kitten and made a quick meal of some of the bread, cheese and a bit of apple. For each bite she allowed herself, she prepared a tiny nibble for her kitten, softening his food with water from her bottle.
The open side of the tent let in the light of the moon for a time, but a sudden squall forced her to pin it shut when the rain swept down. When she curled up beside him, the kitten fell asleep. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, without success.
Where is the Duke of Heatham’s daughter, Lady Olivia? she wondered. Where is the easy life she once knew? Where is that vain, frivolous lass who loved to primp before a mirror, who fretted over broken nails, who spent days searching for the right fancy ball gown, who flirted so charmingly with every eligible male? Had she vanished into thin air, never to return? Well, good riddance to her and to her old life.
She had survived, just like the kitten asleep beside her. Would Sebastian have been proud of her had she not murdered him? No. He never wanted her to be a spy. He’d made that clear, hadn’t he? Yet she had heard admiration in his voice just the same. Perhaps she was meant to perform brave deeds to protect her country after all, if only as a monument to his memory. Much soothed by these thoughts, she fell into a peaceful sleep untroubled by haunting dreams.
Sebastian studied the map of the academy acreage which had been divided into sections. He said, “Good work, Hugh.”
Denville beamed, for the spymaster’s tone was filled with admiration. “During the war, it was you who taught me how to plan a campaign.”
“So I did. Let us concentrate on planning a similar campaign to find Fairchild before any harm comes to her. Send word to Darlington in London to be on the alert for her, should she by some miracle find her way there.” He paused in thought. “No. I rather think she’ll try to find her way to Brighton where her family remains for the summer.” He took up a pen in his good hand and began to examine the map, marking off several segments as his eyes searched.
“Sound the alarm, Hugh. I want every available man to assemble in the ballroom. At once.”
It took very little time to fill the large room with the entire male staff of Wilson House. When Sebastian strode to the musician’s platform where he could be seen and heard, he said, “We must find Fairchild as soon as we can, for there is always the possibility she may encounter unforeseen danger. She took no horse, which means she can’t have gone too far. Mr. Denville and I have divided our land into small sections of approximately one square mile each. With the exception of Mrs. Hunnicut and the under maids who will remain here with me to care for Fairchild when she is brought home to us, each instructor and each trainee has been assigned to a team. The leader has been given one section where we think she may have wandered. When your name is called, please join your leader and follow his directions. Get a good night’s sleep. It may be your last until she is found. We begin the search at first light. Thank you.”
Mrs. Hunnicut followed him out of the ballroom and into his chamber. “Will you pour me a brandy, ma’am?” He rubbed his eyes.
“Of course, sir. Sit down and rest while I fetch it for you.”
“Why did she run away, Mrs. Hunnicut? What possessed her? Did anyone chastise her for the accident? I did not blame her, I assure you.” Sebastian took the goblet from her hand and drained it in one swallow.
“I wish I knew, sir. I do know that she suffered much remorse for having been the cause of all your difficulties. But she kept to herself. I suspect she thought everyone blamed her.”
“She’d run away for such a flimsy excuse? No. That can’t be why she ran away. She never cared a fig for what others thought of her.” Not my Livy. “There has to be a better reason than that.”
“We can’t always understand the depths of another’s secret thoughts, sir.”
“Yes, that’s true. But it wasn’t her fault, ma’am. You know that. You heard the doctor explain the cause of the infection. The culprits were the unseen germs on the end of that exposed foil. Fairchild had nothing to do with it, and so I shall inform her. When we find her.” If we find her alive. The thought terrified him.
Olivia’s day dawned clear and crisp. She spread the cape out to dry while she fed herself and her stalwart companion the last of her provisions. But her mind turned in turmoil. Where should she go? What should she do? What would dear Sebastian want her to do? The thought startled her at first, but the answer became clear.
“No help for it, puss. We’ll have to return to Wilson Academy and face the consequences, be it dismissal or whatever else they may have in store for me, no matter how drastic.” She spoke the words aloud to the furry little creature in her hand.
“Meow.”
She laughed for the first time in ages. “Well said, puss. All right, little one. I’ve made my choice. Give me the courage to face their wrath.”
The need to refill her empty water bottle drew her back to the waterfall where another thought struck her. “Let’s see what’s on the top of that waterfall, puss. Maybe there’s a path we can follow.” She tucked her companion into her shirt and removed her boots, this time stuffing them into her bag along with her dried cape. Taking great care not to slip on the moss-covered rocks, she reached the top of the waterfall and found herself standing on the final rock, a long boulder embedded in the middle of a small creek, its cool waters bathing her feet as it rushed past her and flowed down to the gully.
She shielded her eyes from the sun and explored the landscape. At the far end of the creek, she made out a white steeple rising over the top of the trees. “Why that must be the church steeple in Havelshire, puss! I’ve found the way back to the academy.”
She waded through the shallow creek to dry land. There she sat to dry her feet and put her boots back on before hurrying off in the direction of the steeple. She reached a rutted dirt road and paused to catch her breath. “We’ll rest here for a moment, puss.” When she peeked at him, she grinned, for he was fast asleep. I’ve thought of a wonderful name for you, my brave one. When you wake, I shall bestow it upon you.
The rumble of wheels on the road reached her ears. She jumped up and hid behind a tree at the sound of horse hooves. Her heart pumped frantically. Could this be friend or foe? When an open cart filled with hay rounded the curve in the road, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was a farmer on his way to market in the village most likely.
Olivia ran to the middle of the road and waved him down. “Excuse me, sir. Are you going to Havelshire?”
“Mayhap,” the farmer said, suspicion in his voice. “Who wants to know, lad?”
Olivia had forgotten she’d cut off all her curls. She affected an accent and said. “Please, sir. I’ve lost me way. Me mum will thrash me if’n I don’t hurry home.”
“How old are you, lad?”
“Twelve, sir.”
“Big fer yer age, an’t you? All right, I’ll take ye home. Hop up next to me.�
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“Meow.”
“What’s that noise, lad?”
“It’s only a poor kitty I found in the woods, sir. Somebody drownded its mum and t’other newborns.”
“Poachers, likely.”
“I ’spect so, sir.”
The two rode in silence for a time, Olivia wondering how hard it would be to find her way back to the academy with her kitten. This cheerless thought stayed with her until the farmer’s raspy voice intruded.
“Where d’ye live lad? If y’tell me the direction, I’ll take you to the door.”
“Much obliged sir, but if ’n you just leave me front o’ the church, I c’n walk home from there.”
“We’re almost there, lad. Mind yer mum and don’t go gettin’ lost in the woods again. All right?”
“Yes, sir,” she said. “Much obliged, sir. I thank you for yer kindness.”
“There’s the church up yonder. Have a look, lad. They’s lots of people about. Mayhap a weddin’ today. Mayhap a funeral.”
Olivia shuddered at the suggestion of a funeral. Was it Sebastian’s funeral? She stiffened her resolve to confront her fate, whatever the cost. She wondered if the farmer could hear the loud beating of her heart as they drew nearer the church.
The shouts that assaulted her ears made no sense at first. She watched in astonishment as an unruly mob ran toward the farmer’s cart.
“It’s Fairchild!”
“We’ve found her, thank the Good Lord.”
“Is she all right?”
“Why’s her hair look so funny?”
“Looks like summat the cat dragged in.”
The first man to reach her was Denville. He lifted her down before she had time to thank the farmer and was surrounded by footmen and stable boys.
“Don’t crush me, sir. I’ve something precious in my jacket.” She pushed him away with one hand and removed the kitten. Olivia stared at the grinning group of men and boys surrounding her. She turned back to Sebastian’s secretary, sank to her knees and bowed her head.
“Stand up, Fairchild.” He helped her to her feet.
Her answer came in a rush. “I’m so sorry, sir. I hadn’t meant to be the cause of the spymaster’s death. Are you all here for the funeral service? Will you take me to his coffin so I may say a final good-bye?” Stunned silence greeted her words. She took the silence as condemnation and began to sob.
“Calm yourself. He’s alive, lass, but if we don’t bring you back at once, he’ll have my head on a plate.”
He turned to one of the stable lads. “Ride home like the wind and inform the spymaster we’re bringing Fairchild home.”
“Yes, sir. At once, sir.” The young boy took off at a run, in the direction of the village stables where the group had left their horses.
“Is the spymaster really alive, sir? You’re not just saying that so I’ll come back with you? For I had already made up my mind to return to the academy, whatever the consequences.”
Denville bent to her ear. “Fact is, lass, he can’t wait to get his hands on his betrothed. Told me so himself.”
Olivia blushed from ear to ear. “Then I’m ready, sir.”
Denville heard the kitten mewl. “What’s that noise?”
“It’s just a kitten, sir.” She took it out of her jacket. “He’s hungry. Truth be known he was near dead like his mum and his brothers and sisters who were drowned. I saved his life.” And he saved mine.
He eyed the kitten with distaste. “We don’t need any more cats, Fairchild. The academy’s overrun with ’em. We’ll have to drown him as well.”
“Don’t you dare touch him!” she thundered, her eyes ablaze. “You’ll have to drown me first before I let you drown my helpless little puss.”
Denville’s lips quirked at her determination. “All right, all right. Does that thing have a name?”
“He’s not a thing. He’s a he. Of course he has a name.”
“Well? What have you named him, lass?”
“Sebastian.”
Chapter Fifteen
Wilson Academy—One Hour Later
On the journey back from Havelshire to the academy, Olivia wondered what condition she would find the spymaster in. He was alive she knew, but she had been afraid to ask the extent of the damage she had caused him. Instead, she invented tragedy.
She pictured him with only one arm, an invalid for the rest of his life. In her mind’s eye, she became a heroine like Joan of Arc. She vowed she would sacrifice everything to care for him, give up her dream of becoming a spy, throw away the gay life she once knew in London, though that wasn’t much of a penance. They would retire to a quiet life in the country. She would read to him as he sat before the fire. She would take him for long walks through the countryside. She would walk barefoot through hot coals for him. There was nothing she would not do for his sake.
When he rode up beside her horse, Denville asked in exasperation, “Why are you crying, Fairchild? What’s wrong? Didn’t you believe me when I told you the spymaster is in fine form?”
She wiped her eyes with a knuckle, but the tears continued to flow.
Denville rarely had had to confront a crying woman. He could lead a charge in battle without a hint of fear, but the tears of a woman terrified him. “Pull yourself together, lass. The academy is just ahead.”
On the driveway at the entrance, cheers from the instructors, the trainees and the servants rang out when the horses drew up, Denville and Olivia leading the way. Her eyes searched for Sebastian, but he was not out front.
She turned to Fourier. “I’ve found a little kitten, monsieur. Will you take care of him for me? He’s very hungry.”
The fencing master grinned. “But of course, Fairchild. He shall have a good home in my kitchen and you may visit him there whenever you wish. Give your petit prince to me. Does he have a name?”
“His name is Sebastian, sir.” She dismounted to the sound of the fencing master’s laughter. The staff pressed in close, eager to pump her hand, pat her shoulder, wish her well.
“Welcome back, Fairchild,” said Mrs. Hunnicut, all smiles. She was standing at the door. “Spymaster’s in his office waiting for you.”
“I’m such a mess, Mrs. Hunnicut. Shouldn’t I clean up first?”
The housekeeper chuckled. “Best not keep him waiting, dear. I’ll have a bath ready for you after your interview.”
A smiling footman bowed to her. “Welcome home, Miss.”
When he attempted to lead her to Sebastian’s office, she said, “I know my way, thank you,” and flew past the astonished servant.
Sebastian turned away from the window overlooking the driveway. At her knock, he said, “Come,” in a forbidding voice.
“Fairchild reporting, sir.”
“Come closer. Let me have a look at you.”
“I’m covered with filth, sir.” He has both of his arms!
“I shouldn’t wonder. What happened to your hair?”
“I cut it off.”
“May I inquire as to what caused you to do such an outrageous thing?”
Her words came in a rush. “Well, you see, I had to hack my way through all this brush to make a path, you see, and my curls got tangled in a low-hanging branch, you see, with a lot of thorny brambles, you see, and…”
“Enough! Cease all your foolish chatter, hoyden.” Sebastian walked slowly round to the front of his desk and opened his good arm to her. “What took you so long, my most precious, most irritating, most stubborn, most disobedient, most adorable, most foolish, most beautiful, most impatient thorn in my flesh?”
She hiccupped a strangled sob and flew at him, his good arm grasping her as she buried her head on his chest. “I thought you were dead!” she sobbed, soaking his sling with her tears.
He lifted her chin. “Stop your blubbering, darling girl. You’re soaking my bandages with your muddy tears. How any woman can still look magnificent in spite of all the dirt, in spite of missing half her beautiful golden locks, in spite o
f looking very much like a chimney sweep, I’ll never understand. Do stop your bawling, my love. I have another occupation in mind.” Without waiting for an answer, he crushed his lips to hers and kissed her without mercy.
London—“Three Zarkovian ships have been sighted at Dover, sir. They’re about to enter the channel. The prince should be ready to disembark in three days if the weather holds,” said Darlington. “But I must warn you that we’ve received some disturbing reports from our agents. Russian spies are already on our soil to try to prevent the signing of this treaty.”
“I’m not surprised to hear it. The Russians are in an uproar over it.”
“Why would the czar want to prevent such an insignificant country from increasing their livelihood, I wonder. Zarkovia is no bigger than Cornwall.”
“That may well be so, but its port faces St. Petersburg, my boy. It is just below Russian-controlled Estonia, you see. With this treaty, the Russians will be unable to bar Great Britain from expanding trade along the Baltic Sea. We’ll protect Zarkovia from Russian invasion in exchange for opening a trade route to the Scandinavian countries.”
“We stand ready to put a stop to any assassination attempt. I’ll inform the spymaster, sir.”
“Be sure to remind him that Fairchild is to be kept away from taking any part in this operation. His Grace would not approve, I’m sure. We must keep his daughter safe from danger at all costs.”
“I’ll make that quite clear to the spymaster, sir.” Had his future father-in-law made such a request? he wondered. He doubted it. Sidmouth meant for the duke to be beholden to him, more like.
“Get on with your work, Darlington,” Sidmouth said, dismissing his aide. The home secretary turned his attention to the unfinished report he was preparing for the Regent.
Sebastian read the home office directive Darlington sent him and rang for his aide. “Where’s Fairchild, Hugh?”
“She’s in martial arts class with the rest of the trainees, sir. Doing quite well, I hear.”