“I heard from Maddie this week, Elspeth.”
“Did you, James? And how is she? The last letter I received sounded like she was spending all her time at the dressmaker’s.”
“Her wardrobe seems to be almost complete and she will be leaving for London in a fortnight.”
“Will you be able to join her for any part of the Season?”
“I am hoping to.”
“It might be wise, James, if you want her future to be settled sooner rather than later. I rather suspect Maddie wishes to enjoy herself before choosing a husband,” Elspeth said with a smile.
“I am afraid you are right,” James agreed. “Not that I can blame her, for there may be very few choices in the end. I have only been able to squeeze out a small dowry for her. What she needs is for a rich man to fall madly in love with her, so that he doesn’t care about her lack of fortune.”
“And what do you need, James? I was thinking about you during dinner.”
James lifted his eyebrows and gave her a quizzical grin. “Oh, I rather thought you were thinking more about Lieutenant Aston, judging by the way you were stealing glances at him,” he teased.
Elspeth blushed. “Was I so obvious?”
“Only to me, Elspeth, for I know you well. But I shouldn’t tease you, my dear. It is kind of you to be concerned about me.”
“I was thinking of nobility and titles, James, and how well they fit some and how ill others. You, for instance: You are a true gentleman and deserve a loving woman.”
“We all deserve love, Elspeth, but not all of us find it. Or have it find us.” James hesitated as if he wanted to say more in an intimate vein, but then he continued humorously, “I suppose I will settle for any woman who will have me and my tarnished title. I suspect it may well have to be a wealthy cit’s daughter. But I have been wondering, Elspeth,” he continued more seriously, “has love found you?”
“I don’t know, James,” she answered simply. “I have been so long resigned to the fact I would likely never marry that I have guarded myself well against the possibility of love. I’ve never really believed I would inspire romantic feelings in another, but it could be I have been taken by surprise,” she admitted with a blush.
“I have no way of knowing his feelings, but Valentine Aston is well worth loving, if you have any doubts,” James said quietly. “If you do love him, it may be a long siege, my dear, trying to breach the wall of pride and insecurity he has constructed around himself.”
“But what if I send my love out like the Forlorn Hope and I can’t get through, James?” she asked with a rueful smile.
“Like any soldier, you must keep trying, no matter how hopeless it looks.”
“Has love ever found you, James?”
James lifted his eyes to her and for one moment Elspeth thought she saw a soul in torment, but he lowered them so quickly, and his face was so calm, she told herself she had imagined it.
“Once,” he said quietly. “But like many first loves, it was doomed to be unrequited,” he added lightly.
“I hope loves come to you, James,” said Elspeth, as she put a hand comfortingly on his. “You are a good man and dear friend.”
“You think so, do you? A good man?”
“Of course. All who know you think so. How could they not?”
“Thank you for your trust in me, Elspeth,” said James as he got up. “I must be going now or your father will be out here wanting to know what my intentions are,” he joked.
As James walked back to his tent, he smiled a bitter smile, and had Elspeth been able to look into his eyes at that moment, she would have had no doubts about the unhappiness she had seen.
Chapter 22
Mags was released by the doctor at the end of a week on the condition that she rest for at least another two. She and Will settled in together, and Mrs. Ryan came to look in on her when Will was on duty.
She had not made any efforts to remember while in the doctor’s care. Her head had hurt too much and her waking moments had been clouded with the laudanum he had given her for the pain. But now that the headaches were almost gone, she tried, unsuccessfully, to summon up the face of her assailant.
“I could be walking right past him, Will, and never know it,” she said one night.
“Now, Mags, I don’t want you making yourself sick trying to remember. One of the French deserters disappeared a few days after it happened and Captain Grant thinks that he was likely the villain.”
Mags sighed with relief. “I am happy to hear he is gone, but what about the officers? I can’t remember if I found anything or not,” she added with a pained frown.
“The doctor said it may come back to you. Now lie down and get some rest.”
“There’s something else I am needing besides rest, Will Tallman. You haven’t touched me since I’m home.”
“Now how could I, and you still weak?”
“I am feeling so much better, Will,” Mags whispered as she pulled him down next to her.
“Are you, Mags?” he said as he stroked the curve of her breast and pulled the blankets over both of them.
* * * *
Mags swore it was their lovemaking that was responsible. She had awakened the next morning and, glancing over at the small table that Will used for a washstand, she saw a few pieces of paper lying next to his razor and it all came back. Or almost all. She remembered leaving Stanton’s tent and the sense that someone had been lurking, but the memory of the actual attack still eluded her.
“You must get Lieutenant Aston,” she told Will.
“I will, Mags, so long as you promise not to be talking of intimate things. I don’t mind hearing that my knowing how to pleasure a woman brought your memory back, but you don’t need to go spreading the news around!” he added with a sheepish smile.
When Val arrived, Mags was sitting in front of Will’s tent, brewing coffee in an old tin pot.
“Shouldn’t you still be in bed, Mrs. Tallman?” he scolded.
“I am feeling much better, Lieutenant, as I am sure Will told you,” she added with a gleam of mischief in her eye.
“He told me that your memory has returned.”
“Much of it, Lieutenant.”
Val looked around, but they seemed to be alone and safe from anyone overhearing. “Tell me what you remember, Mrs. Tallman.”
“I had gone to Lieutenant Trowbridge’s tent first and I was just leaving Lieutenant Stanton’s when it happened.”
“Then you never got to Lord Wimborne’s?”
“No, not that I recall.”
Val looked thoughtful. “Then the likelihood is the attack was because of something you might have seen in one of the others’.”
“Or to keep her from getting to the marquess’s tent,” said Will.
“I suppose so. What did you find in the others’ quarters?”
“There was a letter from Lieutenant Trowbridge’s brother on the ground next to his cot. Nothing but news about the latest prizefight, I am afraid.”
“And Lord Stanton’s?”
Mags frowned and closed her eyes, trying to picture things accurately. “There were three letters on his table. I remember I was being careful to fold them up just the way they had been. He’s a very orderly man, is Lord Stanton.”
“Can you remember what was in the letters?”
“One was from his mother,” Mags hesitated. “There was something in one of them, Lieutenant. Just wait a minute and it will come to me.”
Val sat there, praying that it would be the conclusive evident they needed, and when Mags put her cup down with a satisfied grin and said “Aye, now I can see it as clear as if I was standing there,” he had a hard time not jumping up and throwing his arms around her.
“He had a letter from an old school friend. The man was congratulating him on squeezing someone.”
“ ‘Squeezing’ someone?”
“For something that was a capital offense.”
“Do you mean to say that Lord Stanton
is blackmailing someone?”
“Yes, and it was clear it was another old schoolmate.”
Val rubbed his eyes. “Do you remember anything in any letters about the political situation at home, Mags?”
“Nothing more than what we all know, sir. But I thought it was interesting, the ‘squeezing’ part,” she added hopefully.
“But you never got to James’s tent?”
“No, sir. I thought I heard something in the back of Lieutenant Stanton’s tent, but I figured it was a small animal. I went out and looked around me, I think.” Mags closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant, I can’t remember anything else.”
“Now, Mags, don’t strain yourself,” said Will, putting a hand on her shoulder.
Val sat quietly, trying to make sense of what he had heard.
“Whoever attacked you saw you coming out of Stanton’s tent.”
“I am sure of it, sir.”
“Perhaps you missed a letter?”
“I might have done so, sir. I suppose he might have hid one. Of course, like Will said, whoever was watching might have been trying to keep me from the marquess’s tent,” she added thoughtfully. “Not that he could ever be the traitor, Lieutenant.”
“A capital offense, the letter said?”
“Squeezing him for it.”
Val’s face lightened. “You know, Mrs. Tallman, much as I would like the villain to be Lucas Stanton, it may be you have solved this for us.”
Mags’s face lit up. “But how, sir?”
“George Trowbridge is Stanton’s old schoolfellow. And treason is a capital offense. It just may be Stanton is blackmailing him.”
“And Stanton not reporting it?”
“Yes, and that makes him as much of a traitor.”
“But Lieutenant Trowbridge is so….”
“Stupid?”
“Well, I hate to be the one to say it, but he is a bit dim, sir.”
“He doesn’t have to do much. Just pass on information.”
* * * *
“But there was nothing much in his letters,” Mags protested.
“No, but perhaps he had the information hidden somewhere else. Thank you, Mrs. Tallman. We will watch both of them carefully.”
“Well, I am feeling better, sir, for I have been thinking myself a very poor spy indeed.”
“Nonsense, Mrs. Tallman. You were a good soldier.”
“I’ll be back at my laundering in a week or so, Lieutenant.”
“You are not getting involved again, Mags,” protested Will.
“I could keep on looking, Lieutenant Aston.”
“No, you can’t ask that of her, sir, not after such a beating.”
“I won’t, Will, don’t worry,” Val reassured him. “I am sorry, Mrs. Tallman, but you are a retired spy,” Val told her with a smile. “Captain Grant will have someone watch Stanton and Trowbridge coming and going. We don’t want to risk you again.”
“But there was nothing in either of their letters about the government?” asked Grant when Val reported Mags’s news.
“No, but it is possible it had been hidden or destroyed.”
Grant frowned. “It is possible, Lieutenant. It is possible that you want Stanton to be the traitor a little too much. He could very well be blackmailing someone at home for something completely different.”
“But the writer of the letter called it a capital offense, sir. While there are all too many of these, I cannot imagine Lucas Stanton blackmailing someone for stealing a sheep, sir.”
Captain Grant smiled. “I suppose you are right. There is then a strong possibility that George is our traitor and Stanton is using this for his own advantage.”
“Which makes him a traitor too. I think we should have them both watched, sir.”
“I will see to it, Lieutenant. I must admit I am glad we have something pointing us in a direction other than Lord Wimborne.”
“I would vouch for James’s loyalty to his country with my life, sir,” Val declared.
“And I for your loyalty to a friend, Valentine,” Colquhoun Grant murmured after Val left.
* * * *
“You are looking very pleased with yourself, Val,” said Charlie after he encountered his brother outside of Grant’s tent.
Val turned and gave Charlie one of his rare open smiles. “I have not done anything, Charlie. Mrs. Tallman has.”
Charlie looked at him with a questioning frown.
“Come, let us walk out of camp a ways,” said Val and they took the path to the village. “May I rely on your discretion, Charlie?”
Charlie grinned. Whenever Val got serious, he sounded so like the earl that anyone would have known them for father and son.
“This is not a laughing matter, Charlie.”
“Of course not.”
“Mrs. Tallman was not attacked for her laundry money, Charlie. She was attacked because she was spying for us.”
That wiped the smile from Charlie’s face.
“Someone is getting word to Massena about the political crisis at home. It is why he has dug himself in, despite the lack of food and the illness plaguing his troops.”
“He’s hoping the proposed Regency will mean the Opposition will pull Wellington out of Portugal?”
“Exactly.”
“Do you have any ideas who would be passing on such information?”
“We have three suspects: George Trowbridge, Lucas Stanton, and James Lambert.”
“James!”
“That is why I am so pleased, Charlie, I knew it was ridiculous to suspect him, but anyone who had connections in Whitehall had to be considered. But Mrs. Tallman found us something that points in the direction of George Trowbridge.”
“George is a hen-wit, Val.”
“Admittedly,” Val replied with a grin. “But he doesn’t need much in his upper story merely to pass on information.”
“What evidence do you have?”
“Mrs. Tallman discovered a letter in Stanton’s tent that indicates he is blackmailing an old schoolfellow over a capital offense. We think he is on to George and making money off his treason. So James is cleared.”
“Well, not precisely, Val,” Charlie said hesitantly.
“You can’t consider James capable of this?”
“No, but there might be another schoolfellow in England.”
“That would be too much of a coincidence, Charlie. If Mags hadn’t been attacked…. But she was, and right after coming out of Stanton’s tent.”
“There are other capital offenses beside treason, Val,” Charlie said thoughtfully.
“Too many to count,” said Val, smiling at his brother.
“Unfortunately that is true,” said Charlie. “Well, if you are right,” he continued, “then Mrs. Tallman deserves a medal.”
They had reached the top of the hill overlooking the village and, since it was a sunny day, sat down on the rocks. “Your troops are looking good, Charlie.”
“I feel lucky to be here, working with men and horses.”
“You are inspired with horses, Charlie. If you do as well with your men, you will have a crack troop.”
“Thank you, Val,” Charlie replied with a pleased blush. “I can’t wait to see how they do in their first battle.”
“Don’t be so eager for that, little brother.”
“Is it so awful, then?”
“I have only seen the one and that was awful enough.”
“Well, it is what we are here for.”
“Indeed it is. But don’t be too eager to rush into the middle of the enemy. I would hate to lose you,” said Val, keeping his tone light.
“Or I, you,” replied Charlie. Their glances met for a moment and then both lowered their eyes in embarrassment at the strong emotion revealed there.
* * * *
Later, when he was sitting in front of his mirror, unbuttoning his stock, Charlie thought about what Val had told him. He despised Lucas Stanton as much as his brother did. His feelings about Georg
e were not as strong, but he certainly could believe him weak enough to consider passing on information.
And James? Like Val, he would have thought any suspicion against him ridiculous. It was interesting, however, that the thought had never occurred to his brother that James was also an old schoolfellow. And Val seemed unaware that there was a capital offense aside from treason that James might be blackmailed for.
Chapter 23
January was a cold, gray month, but the news that finally arrived from England was bleaker than the weather. It had been decided that a Regency was necessary, given the king’s continued state of delusion.
“Lord Wellington has received word from home that the prince and the Whigs are planning a ministry,” Colquhoun Grant told Val.
“No wonder he has been looking so blue-deviled.”
“If the Opposition indeed takes office, then it is safe to say that we will not remain here long.”
“You don’t think His Lordship can convince them that he can drive the French out of Portugal?”
Grant laughed bitterly. “Lord Wellington has enough trouble with the government that is favorable to him when he asks for supplies and troops. If the government is slow to supply us, I hardly think that the Opposition will.”
“So Massena waits….”
“Hoping for the new cabinet. Or reinforcement from Boney. Damnation, I wish we could ferret out this traitor so at least Massena’s information would be less current than ours.”
“You said someone has been working on this in London?”
“Yes, and has narrowed down the possibilities some, but the range of potential traitors is almost as great there, Lieutenant,” Grant admitted with a despairing sigh.
“You know that Lord Wimborne has requested a leave, sir?”
“Yes, and Lord Wellington has granted it. He departs for England in less than a month.”
“Perhaps he could be persuaded to act for us there?” Val suggested tentatively.
“No, Aston. The marquess is still a suspect. Not a prime suspect,” he added as Val began to protest. “But not someone we can ask for help. We will have to keep a close watch on Trowbridge and Stanton. But the other news from home might cheer you up,” he added with a broad smile. “It is so cold that the Thames has frozen over, so we have the satisfaction of knowing that those at home are colder than we are!”
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