Dark Angel (Lescaut Quartet)

by Tracy Grant

  But he was no longer looking at her. His eyes were focused at some point behind her. He seemed to be waiting or listening for a signal. Caroline looked over her shoulder to see what held his attention. "Señora!" His voice was high and shrill. She turned back to face him and in that instant heard the sharp report of a rifle.

  Caroline saw the gleam of his teeth once again. She heard voices and the pounding of feet in the alley. The thin man's smile had vanished and he whispered, "Mother of God." Then he turned and ran down the alley toward the church as though the hounds of hell were on his heels.

  The soldiers. Lescaut had promised not to interfere. In a fury Caroline whirled round to look toward the sound of the shot and found Adam in front of her. His hands gripped her shoulders and his voice was harsh. "Are you all right?"

  "You frightened them off! You promised, and you frightened them off!" Her voice rose in an angry wail, but by this time Adam was running toward the church.

  She turned again toward the mouth of the alley and saw Lescaut walking toward her. "Madame Rawley, I am sorry. The man is dead."

  "Dead? He went that way." She pointed to the far end of the alley.

  "Not him. The other man, the one with the beard."

  Caroline looked beyond Lescaut and saw a soldier bent over the sprawling figure of a man. "You needn't look," Lescaut said as she walked toward them.

  Caroline continued till she had reached the figure lying on the ground. He did not look particularly dead. His eyes were open and there was a look of surprise on his face. A dark smear covered the front of his shirt, but Caroline had seen blood before. It was the heavy man with the beard, and he was breathing still. Caroline flung herself upon him and seized him by the shoulders. "Where is she? What have you done with my daughter?"

  With a sudden access of strength she shook the heavy man as hard as she could. His face broke into an evil grin. Or perhaps it was only the rictus of death. Desperate that he not escape her, Caroline pressed her cloak against his wound to staunch the bleeding. "Live!" she cried. "May you be damned to hell if you die without telling me. Live, live, live."

  The soldier who had been kneeling by the bearded man stared at her in shock. "The man is dead, madame."

  Caroline looked at the soldier, then back at the bearded man. The soldier was right. The bearded man had escaped her. In fury, she turned to Lescaut. "You killed him. He knew where Emily is, and you killed him."

  "Madame!" the soldier protested.

  "He had a rifle." Lescaut's voice was taut with emotion. "He came out of that house there”—he pointed to the doorway where Caroline had waited for the men to appear—“and he carried a rifle. It was aimed at you." Only then did Caroline notice the faint glint of metal a few feet beyond the bearded man's arm.

  Lescaut reached down to take her arm and Caroline let him help her to her feet. She could not think clearly. "They were after the dispatch. I showed it to the thin man. I was ready to give it to him. Why should his partner want to shoot me?"

  Lescaut seemed puzzled. "I don't know. Perhaps he only intended to threaten you. I did not think at first you were in any danger. Then, when my men saw you pull out the packet and saw the bearded man sight down the barrel... " He turned to the soldier. "Collard, find the others and learn if they've taken the second man."

  The soldier saluted and ran off at a trot. Lescaut frowned. "They had orders not to shoot unless I gave word. They knew they were not to shoot to kill. It was Collard who disobeyed. He has a soft heart."

  "I should have come alone." Caroline moved away from Lescaut. When he would have come toward her she waved him off. Lescaut shrugged and gave her her distance. The thin man, Caroline prayed, let them find the thin man.

  They did not. A long time later—or so it seemed to Caroline, who was staring at the bearded man's feet and thinking of eternity—the soldiers returned with Adam and Hawkins. "We lost him," Adam said in a flat voice. "He went through the church, but he's not there. There's a small side door that was open, but it took us some time to find it. He must have slipped out that way."

  "I was watching in the street," one of the soldiers said, "but I didn't see him."

  "Imbecile," Lescaut muttered. Then, in a louder voice, "What of the houses backing on the alley?"

  The eldest of the soldiers spoke up. "We searched them all. The thin man is not to be found. This one”—he spat at the body of the bearded man—“bribed the servants to let him wait near the back door. They claim they didn't see a rifle."

  "God in heaven. Collard, get me twenty men. Bring them here and fan out. I want the thin man found. The rest of you, start asking questions. Try the taverns. He's had a shock and he'll want to bolster his courage."

  Caroline watched the soldiers depart. It was strangely quiet in the alley after they had gone. The bells chimed the half-hour. Such a few short minutes to have changed her life forever. The three men remaining were quiet, as though afraid to speak. Hawkins was looking at her with anguished eyes. Lescaut's eyes held an anger equal to her own. Adam had no expression at all on his ravaged face. They had promised to find Emily. They had failed.

  "We thought they would keep Emily with them," Adam said at last. "We thought only one man would keep the appointment. But both men were here tonight. That means they had to leave her somewhere. The child would be an inconvenience at this meeting, but they meant Emily no harm. They would look for someone to care for her, and as far as we know they were strangers to Salamanca. Emily was not in any inn or tavern in the city. Robert, what do you do with inconvenient children?"

  The ghost of a smile appeared on Lescaut's face.

  "Exactly," Adam said. "The Foundling Hospital."

  Chapter Eleven

  Just when Caroline was ready to break down the door of the Foundling Hospital herself, it was opened by a short, heavily set man with bleary eyes and a suspicious expression. "What do you want?" he demanded, his tone a mixture of hostility and fear.

  "A word with your administrator." Lescaut stepped forward so the light spilling out of the doorway shone full on his uniform. "Tell him Colonel Lescaut is here and desires to speak with him."

  "He's in his bed." The porter stood his ground, blocking the doorway with his body. "Come back in the morning."

  "I think not." Lescaut's tone was courteous, but as he spoke he moved toward the door. The porter had either to get out of his way or physically restrain him from entering the hospital. The porter's eyes narrowed, but at the last second he stepped aside. Lescaut walked into the building as if he had an unassailable right to be there. Caroline hurried after him, Adam and Hawkins close behind her.

  Lescaut turned to the porter and said two words. "The administrator." It was not a question. The porter eyed him for moment, then drew in his breath and strode off down the hall.

  The entrance hall was narrow and furnished only with a small table and a high-backed wooden bench. Adam steered Caroline toward the bench, but she would not sit down. In a few moments she might be reunited with Emily. Or have to face the fact that their last hope had proved futile. Adam's eyes met her own, offering understanding, not false reassurance. Caroline took his hand and gripped it tightly for support and in apology for the words she had hurled at him earlier in the day.

  The wait seemed interminable. Hawkins began to pace near the door. Lescaut smiled at Caroline, his eyes kind. "I have always found that it is the waiting which is the most terrifying part of battle, madame."

  Caroline managed to smile in return, though her mouth felt stiff and dry. At last they heard footsteps, the porter's heavy tread and a slower, more measured gait. A tall, white-haired man wrapped in a faded wool dressing gown walked into the hall, followed by the porter who remained in the shadows and regarded them with suspicious eyes as if ready to use force to defend his employer.

  The white-haired man surveyed them and addressed Lescaut. "I am Señor Arevalo," he said in careful French. "Administrator of the hospital. You are Colonel Lescaut?"

  "I am." L
escaut spoke in flawless Spanish, which caused Arevalo's eyes to widen with surprise and respect. "But it is this lady," Lescaut continued, gesturing toward Caroline, "who wishes to speak with you. She believes her daughter may be here."

  "I see." Arevalo turned to look at Caroline. His gaze was appraising but not unkind. "How long ago did you leave her here, Señora?"

  "I didn't leave her." Caroline felt a flash of anger. She subdued it with an effort. He could not know of Emily's kidnapping. "She was taken from me. She would have been brought here some time today."

  Arevalo's brows drew together. He gave a quick nod, as if acknowledging that the situation was more complicated than he had assumed. "Wake Inez," he told the porter. "Send her to the sitting room. Inez was the nurse on duty today," he explained to Caroline. "She will know what children were received. If you will follow me, Señora, gentlemen."

  He led them down a series of dimly lit corridors to a small, sparsely furnished sitting room. This time Adam pressed Caroline into a chair and took one himself, close by her. "The child's not quite four years old," Adam said. "And English." Caroline would have been deceived by the control in his voice had she not been able to see his hands trembling. "You have English children here?"

  Arevalo gave a rueful shrug. "English, Spanish, Portuguese, French, Turkish. We take whatever children are given to us. We do not usually receive children as old as four, but if they are left here we do not refuse them."

  "She would have been brought by two Spanish men," Caroline said. "One is heavyset, with a beard—"

  Arevalo cut her off. "I fear a description will be of little use, Señora. You saw the baskets in the windows at the front of the building?"

  Caroline nodded, though she had been in little state to notice anything.

  "The baskets are circular," Arevalo explained. "Those placing a child with us put the child in the basket and pull the bell beside it. The nurse turns the basket around and receives the child. The man or woman who left the child remains anonymous."

  "That would explain how it was done," Lescaut said.

  The seconds ticked by. Caroline's nails dug into her palms. Adam took her hand again and squeezed her fingers. He was still holding it a few minutes later when a young woman entered the room. She carried a candle and wore a voluminous white nightdress with a shawl wrapped hastily about her. A long dark braid hung over her shoulder and there was a look of concern in her eyes.

  "Ah, Inez." Arevalo quickly explained why he had summoned her. Adam's hand tightened round Caroline's. Even in her present state, Caroline could see the tension in the way Hawkins sat and the way Lescaut carefully clasped his hands. Inez listened with drawn brows, but in the middle of Arevalo's recital she turned to Caroline, eyes wide with relief. "Rawley," she exclaimed, forming the unfamiliar word with care. "You are Señora Rawley? Your daughter is Emily?"

  Caroline's throat closed. For a moment she could not speak. She felt a tremor in Adam's hand. Someone, Hawkins or Lescaut, let out a deep sigh. Then Caroline was on her feet. "Where is she?"

  "Asleep." Inez was smiling. "I will fetch her."

  "I'm coming with you." Only lack of direction prevented Caroline from running ahead to claim her child. "Emily told you her name?" she asked, her heart hammering with impatience as she followed Inez down the corridor.

  Inez nodded. "She said her mother would come for her, but I fear I placed little credence in it. So few parents come to claim their children. Though when they do, it is always the mothers, never the fathers. A man seems to feel little responsibility for a child who does not bear his name."

  Caroline thought of Emily and Adam, but the thought was quickly banished, for Inez had stopped before a plain wooden door. She held her finger to her lips and opened the door onto a long, shadowy room with rows of beds running down either side. Shielding the candle flame with her hand, Inez led the way down the central aisle. Their soft footsteps sounded preternaturally loud in the still room. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, Caroline saw that there were three or four children crowded into each bed. It was difficult to tell their ages, but judging by the small shapes curled beneath the blankets, some were older than Emily while many were mere infants.

  A child cried out. Inez stopped and murmured soothingly, then continued on to a bed near the end of the room. The candlelight spilled over the blankets onto the three small heads pressed against the pillows. Caroline would have known that pale blond hair anywhere. Relief swept through her. Until this moment she had not fully believed she would find her daughter.

  Inez stood back while Caroline slipped between the beds and crouched down on the side where Emily was lying. Emily's eyes were closed. Caroline touched her hair lightly, wondering how frightened she had been, how frightened she would still be. Emily opened her eyes at once. For a moment she stared at her mother. Then she hurled herself forward and flung her arms round Caroline's neck. "You came for me, Mama. I knew you would."

  The familiar, comforting smell of child enveloped her. Emily's soft hair tickled her nose. Caroline stood, holding Emily in her arms. Some of the other children had woken. Inez was speaking softly to them. Caroline felt a rush of sympathy for the abandoned children and thankfulness that, whatever other mistakes she had made, at least she had managed to care for Emily.

  When the children had been quieted, Inez led the way back to the sitting room. Emily wriggled happily at the sight of Adam and Hawkins. "I told them you'd all come for me," she said. "No one believed me."

  A wide grin split Hawkins's face. Adam let out a sigh, as if like Caroline he hadn't fully believed they had her back until he saw her. "We came as quickly as we could," he told Emily. "It took us a bit of time to find you."

  Caroline carried Emily over to Lescaut, who had risen with the others at their entrance and was standing a little apart. "This is Adam's friend Colonel Lescaut, Emily," she said. "If it wasn't for him, we wouldn't have been able to find you at all."

  Emily studied Lescaut gravely. "Thank you for helping find me."

  Lescaut sketched a bow. "You're very welcome, mademoiselle."

  Emily giggled. Then she squirmed in her mother's arms again. Caroline set her down and she ran over to Adam and flung her arms round his knees. Caroline continued to look at Lescaut. "Thank you, m'sieur," she said, trying to put into those few words an expression of how much she owed to him.

  Lescaut smiled. "The pleasure is mine, madame." He took her hand and bowed over it formally. His gaze flickered to Emily, who was now hugging Hawkins, then back to Caroline. "It isn't often a soldier gets to do such an unabashedly good deed."

  Ah, quel plaisir d'etre un soldat. A fragment of the French song, sung with drunken, badly accented exuberance, was carried by the breeze. Shouts and laughter and bawling voices filled the air, some Portuguese, but mostly the unfamiliar, discordant sound of English. Adam eased Baron to a slow walk as they entered the main street of Freneda, a village too small to be on most maps, a village which Wellington had chosen as winter headquarters of the British army. The air was fetid with the stench of refuse and of too many people crowded into too close quarters. The afternoon sun beat down on the loose, broken cobblestones and cast a merciless glare on the grimy, peeling whitewash that covered the buildings.

  "Still as dirty as ever," Hawkins said, glancing about. "You'd think they'd have managed to add some new songs to the repertoire in the past month."

  Emily, who was riding with Hawkins, leaned forward in the saddle and stared at a knot of jostling men crowded about a nearby doorway. "What are they doing?"

  "Buying tea or bread or something of the sort," Hawkins told her. "And being monstrously overcharged. Oh, the delights of army life."

  "You don't miss it?" Caroline asked with a smile.

  Hawkins grinned. "That would be a polite way of putting it, Mrs. Rawley."

  Caroline laughed, then reined in her horse to avoid an officer's batman who darted across the street in front of her with a bundle of English newspapers tucked under his arm.<
br />
  "Didn't we stop here before?" Emily asked her mother. "On the way to Spain?"

  "No, that was Fuentes d’Oñoro." Caroline's voice was steady, but she studiously avoid Adam's gaze. Adam knew the reasons for this stop on her earlier journey. Jared had been with the 2nd Brigade, which had its headquarters in Fuentes d’Oñoro. Before she set out for Spain, Caroline would have wanted to speak to his commanding officer and the men who were with him when he was wounded. Adam felt an intense relief that they did not have to stop at Fuentes d’Oñoro on the return journey. He wasn't sure he could bear the sight of Caroline receiving the commiseration of her husband's former comrades. And then he felt a stab of guilt, because Jared was dead and he was alive, and bedding Jared's wife.

  Though he hadn't done so since Bunedo. After they recovered Emily at the Foundling Hospital, Caroline refused to let her daughter out of her sight, day or night. Adam understood. He would have been shocked if she had been any less attentive. But understanding did not prevent him from spending sleepless nights aching with memories.

  It was the more difficult because their time together was drawing to an end. Thanks to the fair weather and the safe conduct Lescaut had given them, the journey from Salamanca had passed quickly and without mishap. While Adam was relieved to have put danger behind them, he felt a painful twisting in his gut with each sign of home and safety. He had felt it when they encountered two English soldiers at an inn in Ciudad Rodrigo and when they crossed the border into Portugal, and he felt it more strongly than ever now, surrounded by the elite of the British army.

  A faded inn sign bearing a painting of a cauliflower put an end to his thoughts. He had to report to headquarters, but first he wanted to see Caroline and Emily settled and with any luck procure accommodations for the night. The latter might not be easy. There were only two principal inns in Freneda and both were generally as overcrowded as the rest of the town.