Sir Michael's Mayhem

by Susan M. Baganz

  Michael didn’t realize it, but someone was out to kill him. She strained to remember the comments of the men she fought that night at his house. She caught them by surprise. They’d been bragging about the money they would gain if they achieved access to the document, but also managed to kill Sir Michael. She longed to get that information to Lord Hughes, but she couldn’t even leave her room.

  Anticipating Michael’s nocturnal visits every night, Katrina took to sleeping during the day. It kept questions at bay from her hosts, but it also left her pacing and lonely in the dark—alone with her thoughts and her father’s words.

  She took heart as she read his journal. He had quoted from the book of Joshua. They were God’s words to her about being strong and having courage. Reading them infused her with power to overcome whatever might be ahead. It wasn’t a promise. She wasn’t sure what she believed about Marcus’s God, but her father seemed to also possess his own brand of quiet faith that emerged more and more as she read. She wondered what she’d missed when he was alive.

  She’d been too caught up in managing the household and nursing him in his last months, to ever think of a time when he wouldn’t be around and she would not be able to ask him about these things. She really believed he would survive. Now she wondered. Had he been hunted as Michael was now? Could she have prevented his death? She wasn’t sure how.

  Who would be after Michael? She didn’t know many amongst the beau monde but somehow, she thought it was not someone directly connected to Michael. But who? She wished she understood more about his life and past missions. Had he made enemies? How could she ever find out? He would never tell her. Katrina sighed.

  If only he would come!

  He presented such a mass of conflicting emotions within her. Temptation as a woman. She was not above being lured by his handsome appearance. She had loved him since she wore her hair up. He didn’t reciprocate that. He infuriated her with his prideful I-don’t-need-anyone mentality. He needed her and refused to accept that. How could she possibly change his mind?

  Seduce him. She smiled to herself. Her wound was healing, but her shoulder still ached terribly. How was she to tempt this handsome, virile, and self-contained man who only saw her as a little girl out to annoy him? She spent hours thinking about this and trying to imagine different scenarios in which she could arouse his interest and gain his cooperation. But the question always nagged at her. How far was she willing to go?

  She wanted to vindicate her father. Was it worth it to give up her virtue for that? Was the cost too high? She struggled inside. She’d already gone beyond the pale and compromised herself by her actions to date. If anyone found out, her ruination was certain even though she was still as pure as the day she was born. Or was she? If she were honest with herself, she had dreams that were far more inappropriate than any maid had a right to.

  She admitted she was jealous too. Phillip and his bride seemed so deliriously happy that she grieved her lonely state. She was happy for Phillip and amazed at the transformation that his bride brought to his life. He was more relaxed than he ever was. He was still in some ways as serious, and liked things done “his way” around the house. But then he would hold his son and laugh while being drooled on. The normally fastidious young man had grown in depth. Love had transformed him. He also embraced this Jesus that Marcus had been so passionate about.

  But what kind of God would allow her to become motherless at such a young age? What kind of God permitted her beloved father to die and then have that man’s name dragged through the mud? She respected God and even feared Him. She attended church and tried to listen and live according to the vicar’s words. She never measured up. When her father died, God stole love from her and she resented Him for that. Be strong and courageous were God’s words to Joshua. She sucked in a deep breath and held it for a moment, closing her eyes and then letting it all out in one exhale, all the fear, worries, longings.

  Empty.

  During the day she slept with her father’s journal under her pillow. She did not doubt that if Michael wanted to, he could take it from her and do the work alone. But she would never let it out of her hands. She just couldn’t. It was all she had left in the world of her beloved father. His book. His words of love to her. She dared not risk it being lost to her forever.

  7

  That dratted woman. She haunted him everywhere.

  He shook his head to concentrate, trying to remember the limited bits of code in Katrina’s journal. But there were too many gaps. He couldn’t make out the message. He would need to humble himself and visit her again. Several times at the Savoy and even now, back in his own townhouse, there had been other subtler attempts to gain access to the document in his possession. He would have laughed at the futility of what the individual attempted, but lately, he hadn’t been feeling well.

  Weaker somehow.

  “Tristan, who is the new cook we have?” Michael inquired that morning.

  “Maggie, sir. Has there been a problem with your meals?” Tristan asked with stoic politeness.

  “The food has been unexceptionable. My preferences are simple. But the taste of certain things has been ‘off’. Like the pudding last night. Something didn’t taste right about it, but I’m not sure why.” Michael sipped his coffee and grimaced, setting the cup down. “And if you could teach her how to make a halfway decent cup of coffee I would appreciate it.” Michael yawned and rose from the table in his room. “I’ll wear the buff pantaloons today and the cranberry waistcoat and blue coat.”

  “Very well.” Tristan left the room to gather the items from the wardrobe and returned to shave Michael.

  “I prefer to do this myself,” Michael said as the process began.

  “I am trying to earn my wages, Sir Michael. Please allow me to do so.” Tristan did not meet Michael’s eyes in the mirror, staying focused on the task at hand.

  Unusual. Normally Tristan was far more talkative and shared in the humor of things. Michael fought to sit still. Humor? That vanished the night Katrina had been shot. Perhaps, once this case was solved, he would find it again.

  His mind flashed to younger days, laughing and carefree under the shade of a huge oak at Rose Hill. Marcus and Phillip went fishing and Theo sat in the house reading a book. Michael kept Katrina company. She did not like handling worms and touching fish. She couldn’t even eat fish if they were served with the head still attached and the eyes gazing out at her. Michael fought to not smile as the razor moved along his neck and face.

  “Michael, what do you want to be when you grow up?” Kat once asked in that curious way of hers.

  “I don’t know. I’m too irreverent to become a vicar, don’t you think, Mouse?” He nudged her as they sat there side by side, watching the young men further down the hill by the stream.

  Katrina laughed in that musical way of hers, unfettered by the worries of life. She sat there with her sun-kissed face and her straight hair pulled back but falling down all the way to her waist. “No, definitely not a vicar, Michael. I’ve heard the tales of the mischief Remy and the rest were forced to rescue you from. What about a steward?”

  “Numbers and I have an acrimonious relationship. Definitely not a good option for moi.”

  “Ohhhh, you’ve been mastering your French? Maybe you can travel on the Continent.”

  “While that might be entertaining, it doesn’t pay very well.” Michael chuckled at her innocence.

  “There is no dream that you hold dear?”

  He was slow in answering as he took in the estate around him. “I have no one. No purpose or dream. I live for today and let tomorrow take care of itself.” He shrugged and glanced over at her.

  Katrina looked as if he had taken away a prized toy. Tears pooled. She didn’t argue with him. She reached out a hand to lay it on his arm. “That has to be the saddest thing I’ve ever heard, Michael. I predict you will go on to do wonderful things. There is greatness in you.”

  Michael shook his head. “You’d be the
only one to believe that, Mouse. If I live long enough to be an adult, I doubt any good will come of it. What about you? What dreams do you have?”

  “The dreams most young girls have. To go to London for a season of balls and dancing and somehow find a man who would fall madly in love with a small insignificant woman of little fortune. To live with him and raise a family. Happily-ever-after.”

  Michael didn’t laugh at her. “I hope you get that, Katrina.”

  “It’s a dream, but it may not match reality. Maybe I need to live like you in the meantime.” She looked up into the branches above. “Right now, I would like to climb this tree. I’ve always wondered what the view would be like from the top.”

  Michael studied the strong sturdy branches. “It’s a pretty tall tree. It might be dangerous to climb up it. I don’t think it would be wise.”

  Katrina stood and shook out her skirts. “Oh? You doubt I can do it?”

  “I didn’t say that. I don’t think it would be smart. You might get hurt. You’re a girl.” Michael recognized the minute he said those words, that they were the wrong ones.

  Her eyes narrowed and her clenched hands went to her waist. Without another word, she stared at the trunk of the tree. Hiking her skirt, she grabbed a lower hanging branch, managed to swing herself up, and began to climb. Michael watched, hoping she would not fall. Occasionally, he glanced down to the riverbank. Marcus and Phillip remained oblivious to Katrina’s daring adventure.

  Katrina climbed as high as she could. “Michael! It’s amazing up here!” she shouted down to him. “You should come up!”

  “Thank you for the invitation, but I’ll stay here on terra firma.”

  “Coward.” Her laughter filtered down through the leaves like droplets of sunlight that broke through from the sky above, dappling everything around him with joy.

  Michael waited. He could no longer see her. He heard rustling at points and sounds of discomfort. “Are you coming down, Mouse?”

  “Trying. It’s. Much. Harder.”

  “Take it slow, you’ll be fine.” Michael tried to catch sight of her.

  “Oooomph! Owwww!”

  “Are you all right?”

  “No,” came the reply. It sounded as though she might be crying.

  “Can you climb down?” Alarm tinged his words.

  “No. Please. Help.” The plaintive cry did something to Michael’s heart. The joy evaporated into fear and anxiety. Michael kicked off his boots, swung himself up and started his own climb.

  Katrina came into view. Her leg was at an odd angle and her face had a grayish pallor. She gamely tried not to cry.

  “Hey, Mouse. What’s wrong?”

  “My leg.”

  Michael inched closer on the branch, leveraging himself and holding on with one arm, he touched the leg. “Do you think you broke it?”

  Katrina’s teeth clenched. She nodded.

  “I’m afraid we need to go down the way we came up.”

  Katrina’s eyes filled with tears. “You’ll help me?”

  “Sure, Mouse, I’ll help you as best I can, but I’m not sure how I can avoid hurting you.”

  “Hold my hand at least.”

  Somehow, they slowly made their way down the rest of the tree. Michael dropped to the ground to catch her. She was reluctant to let go of that last branch and when she did, it cut deeply into the side of her palm and up her pinky. Katrina wept then, clinging tightly to Michael.

  Even now his heart clenched at the memory.

  “It’ll be all right, Mouse. I’ll carry you to the house.” He leaned her against the trunk and removed his cravat to bind her hand before lifting her into his arms. She’d been so slight then. He thought back to a few nights past when he carried that same girl, with a new injury, in his arms. The curves and that desire to protect her, to take away her pain, was only heightened by the memory of the last time he’d done that. How many more trees would he need to rescue her from before this was over?

  Shaving completed, Michael finished dressing and recalled other memories of summers with Katrina. The one attempt she tried at fishing failed, her shrieks and giggles keeping the fish away. How eager she was to learn to shoot and how she could put an arrow through a target with greater efficiency than he could. She would crow about that.

  Michael grinned. The only true laughter and joy he ever experienced in life had been with that girl. The same young woman who sat healing from a bullet wound and eager to help him down a tree he couldn’t manage on his own. Maybe he owed her the opportunity to help. There were no other options.

  Michael worried he was losing his edge. He’d been dead serious when he’d told Lord Hughes he was quitting. At times, he couldn’t concentrate. He forgot simple things as if he walked in a fog, unsure of his direction. He understood his mission. But an invisible wall kept him from reaching his goal.

  He laughed at his own inability to describe his mental state. But that was the issue. He feared he was losing his mind. He hoped he could hold on to it long enough to solve the riddle of this document and keep Katrina safe. After that, he could slide into insanity and live there quite happily. He shook his head. Everything appeared the same, but fuzziness haunted the edges of his vision. He feared this time he might fail.

  Fail the mission.

  Fail his country.

  Fail Mouse.

  ~*~

  The dark corner of the pub obscured the identity of the two men meeting there, to all appearances sharing a table and enjoying the brew available.

  Cap pulled low, the brawny tall man spoke in a whisper. “Where is it? We are running out of time. You realize that if you don’t get your hands on that document before he figures it out, that you will soon find yourself…” The man motioned with his finger moving across his own neck.

  The smaller man paled and his hands trembled slightly as they gripped the mug in front of him and raised it to his lips to drink. He rubbed his sleeve across his mouth to wipe away the foam left behind. “Don’t tell me things I don’t already know. I’ve searched everywhere. I’ve even taken some other measures to try to get him to confide in me. At least the girl is out of the picture. I was a bit worried about her interfering.”

  “The Black Diamond will not be thwarted. The stakes are high and there are forces at work that you don’t want to encounter.”

  The pale man’s eyes shifted quickly to the face of the one threatening him. “Forces? What forces?”

  “Evil. Unexplainably diabolical. He will achieve his ends with or without your help.” The man’s voice dropped to a sinister sounding whisper, “You will be richly rewarded when you succeed.”

  “If I succeed.”

  “When. There is no if. Deliver the document.” The bigger man drained his mug. Slamming it down on the table he rose to leave. “Do not disappoint me. You will not live to regret it.” He slipped through the tables to the back corridor and was gone.

  The man remaining frowned. He pushed away the rest of his ale and rose as well, nerves shaken. Time was running out and he despised himself for the bargain he’d made. He had a job to do and he could not afford to fail.

  ~*~

  Katrina learned from Phillip that Michael had returned to his home. She debated endlessly that day about waiting for him to come to her or go to him. Her arm hurt and the doctor warned her about any physical exertion. But surely slipping in a back door of the townhouse wouldn’t be too onerous. It wasn’t last time either. What if she met with other resistance? She wandered in her sitting room as she debated. The clock struck eleven and the household had settled in for the night. Did she dare?

  She sat down by the fire and picked up the glass of port. Phillip laughed when she’d asked for some after dinner, but it had become a drink she learned to love while sitting at the end of meals with her father, discussing the events of the day. She sipped the wine, enjoying the darker tones and full body of the drink as warmth slowly spread throughout her chest. She leaned back in the chair, relishing her freed
om from the insane stays that were so often dictated by society. She stretched her legs out in front of her, exposing her feet and ankles to the cool night air and the warmth radiating from the fire. She crossed her feet at the ankles and closed her eyes. So much for the proper companion. She smiled. There was freedom in her isolation that she didn’t mind.

  She rested there for a moment while she thought back on the past two years. Nursing her father and running of the estate. Writing up letters and reading the Bible to him as he lay in bed, weak and struggling mentally to comprehend all that was going on around him.

  ~*~

  She awoke with a start and opened her eyes to find Michael sitting across from her.

  “You snore in the most delightful way, Mouse.” His eyes twinkled as he sipped from her glass of port.

  “I do not.” She tried to sit up and arrange her nightgown and robe to cover up her ankles and feet.

  “You most certainly do, but it was charming.”

  “Why are you here?” she hissed at him, and reached over to grab her glass back. She was about to take a sip, but thought better of it and set it on the table.

  “I need your help.” Michael’s smile faded and his eyes pleaded. “Please?”

  “I’ve been waiting to hear those words.” She smiled. “Did you bring the whole thing?”

  Michael shook his head. “Only part of it. Based on what we did the other night, I figured it would take more than one sitting for us to decipher this. I can deliver whatever we finish to Lord Hughes tomorrow. And follow-up with the remainder the next day.

  “Are you still being watched and threatened?” She leaned forward and placed a hand on his arm. Warmth radiated through her simply by that touch.

  Michael flinched and shook his head. “Someone is still searching my rooms, but it is far subtler. Less violent. I am always on the alert, but between my valet and I, it is rare for someone not to be around. How they are doing this I haven’t figured out.”