Guards tried in vain to prevent the prisoners from descending the ladder to a boat below. A guard raised his pistol and fired at a prisoner, who slumped to the deck; a second inmate barreled into the guard. They fought on the deck as other guards arrived at the scene, firing wildly at the boat below.
Their small group included suddenly the boys they had freed next to Jack. They were all small and thin, the whites of their large, fearful eyes the only clean surfaces on the entire ship. They followed her and Peter as they headed toward the opposite side of the deck where they quietly climbed through the hawse hole and down the anchor chain to the water below.
No one saw them, all the attention focused on the boat trying desperately to row away from the ship. The water seemed colder this time, and Georgiana feared the smaller boys would be unable to swim. Despite this, she saw them climb down the anchor chain and dive into the water, preferring death in an attempt to escape than life on the hulk. She went after the first boy to go under, and pulled him up, holding him around his chest.
“Hold on to my back, but do not choke me or I’ll let you go,” she said.
He nodded his small head and she repositioned him behind her so she could swim.
Peter rescued two small boys and Fleming another. They swam slowly back toward the opposite shore, Jack following them. Swimming in the freezing water slowed her movements, and the added weight of the little boy behind her did not help. She swallowed a good amount of the foul-tasting water, but kept her eyes on the building toward which they were swimming.
They reached the pier and Peter climbed up, and then reached down to lift the boys to shore. She was the last to leave the water and her teeth were chattering violently as she waited, her eyes on the ship where the battle continued.
Escaped prisoners had taken control of the ship but reinforcements had arrived and were climbing up the side of the hull to the deck above. Prisoners stood waiting for them.
Peter called to her and she reached up a shaking hand, and he pulled her up onto the pier next to him. They hurried toward the abandoned warehouse as troops from the armory down the road gathered along the waterfront to watch the battle.
Inside the warehouse, they retrieved the bundle they had left there. She took the bag Peter gave her, and disappeared from view behind some old crates they had stacked earlier. Her fingers were shaking as she tried to undo her shirt buttons, finally just ripping the cloth, and peeling the wet shirt from her body. She took off her wet clothes and dried herself as best she could, then slipped into the black dress.
Changing clothes took forever for there were many buttons and her hands would not stop shaking. When she was finally dressed, she added a dark wig and then her black cloak. She put her wet clothes in the bag and stepped out from her hiding place to a small group of shivering, drenched boys waiting silently. Their eyes grew bigger at her transformation. They were a complication she had not anticipated.
She smiled at the sight of Fleming and Jack in the Ravenstone livery. Peter had dressed in the clothes she had taken from Charles’s closet. He looked like a slightly bedraggled young gentleman, but a gentleman nonetheless. She took a comb from her bag, and handed it to him. He brushed his hair, but then she took the comb back from him.
“Like this,” she said, making sure his hair imitated the slightly more disheveled look of the day. “Good. Now you have gloves, walking stick, and hat?”
Once he had them all in place, she nodded. “Let’s go.”
“What of them?” Jack asked of his comrades.
“We got them this far. They have to find their own way,” Peter said.
The words did not seem to surprise the lads but they remained a huddled wet collection watching their rescuers with big eyes. She turned to Peter and he caught her look.
“No,” he said simply to her. “They will get us caught.”
She said nothing more, only watched him as he ignored her and walked toward the back of the warehouse. She stayed where she was.
He finally turned around and said, “Fine. Bring them.”
“Come on, boys,” she smiled, and they followed her as small chicks followed a hen.
Peter reached the door that opened into a courtyard where the carriage and horses, their backs dusted with a light layer of snow, waited.
“Fleming, you take the reins. Jack, you are on the back.”
Peter opened the carriage door and removed two blankets from the seat, handing them to the boys. “You boys get in and sit there,” he said, indicating the seat facing the back.
He handed Georgiana up to sit in the seat opposite them. Then he moved toward the large gates in front of the carriage, and opened one slightly. He looked out to make sure the back road was empty, and then opened the gates all the way.
“Drive slowly,” he said to Fleming and got in beside Georgiana.
“Which way?” Fleming called down to them.
“Go left out the gate, and then make a right on the first main road. We just have to make it out of the docks, and then you can stop and I’ll give you more directions.”
“As you wish, sir,” he said and tipping his hat, he slapped the reins and the horses moved out onto the road.
Peter pulled the carriage’s window curtains closed, and they all sat in their dark cocoon listening to the sounds from outside. Once they reached the main road, the noise became much louder. Those curious to see the cause of the gunfire made their way toward the river. The horses slowed in the traffic, and their progress became frustrating. Peter looked out.
“What do you see?” he asked Fleming.
“Some kind of road block up ahead,” Fleming said. “What should I do?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Fleming asked. “But shouldn’t we take another road?”
“No, they will have them all blocked, and it will only create suspicion. You are driving your master home. You have nothing to hide.”
“Very good, sir.”
Peter drew the curtain back, and they tried to remain calm as they inched toward the roadblock. Georgiana heard the small cry of one of the boys, and she leaned forward to comfort him.
“It’s alright,” she said. “I will not let anything happen to you.” He clung to her hand and she pulled him forward to sit on the floor next to her, hiding him under the folds of her long dress. He was small enough to disappear. She felt him shivering next to her as he clung to her leg, but he stilled.
“Now, what do we do with them?” she asked Peter, looking at the other three faces. “We cannot simply hide them under blankets, for their smell alone will give them away.”
Peter opened the door. “Jack, I’m putting the boys on the roof. Make sure they stay still and flat.” He handed the boys to Jack, who helped them climb onto the roof, where they lay flat and motionless.
“God, please don’t let the soldiers look up,” Georgiana prayed.
She removed from her reticule the perfume she kept there, and using a generous amount, she improved the aroma of the carriage. Then they sat silently waiting for the carriage to make its slow progress forward. All too soon, it was their turn, and the horses came to a halt. The door opened and Georgiana felt the little hands around her leg tighten, the nails digging into her skin.
She frowned at the soldier who held the door open with one hand, a lantern in his other. “What is the meaning of this?” she asked, using her mother’s haughtiest voice.
“We have orders to stop all conveyances,” he said, and shone his lantern into the corners.
“How dare you,” Peter said, his voice a perfect impression of her brother’s.
“It is my duty,” the soldier shrugged. “What is your business here at this time of night?”
“Our business is none of yours,” Peter answered angrily.
“We were drawn by the fireworks on the river,” Georgiana said. “But we were unable to find the source.”
“No fireworks,” the soldier said. “Gunshots, madam, from one of the prison s
hips.”
“Prisoners,” Georgiana breathed, terrified.
“Yes. We are searching for escaped convicts.”
“We shall be murdered in our sleep,” Georgiana said, and swooned onto the seat next to her.
“Now see what you have done, man,” Peter said, trying to revive her. “I trust you have discovered we are indeed not convicts and will continue your search elsewhere. I order you to close the door.”
The soldier took one last look into the interior, and then closed the door and ordered the carriage to move on. The horses took stride, and soon the road opened and Fleming quickened the pace. Georgiana sat up and looked out the window.
“Wait until we are further away, then stop on an empty stretch of road,” Peter called out the window.
He glanced at her and she said, “I was only just telling Charles, I should have been on the stage, and you were perfect.”
“We are not clear yet.”
“But the hardest part is over.”
He turned to the window and waited until the carriage pulled to a stop, then climbed out. He looked down the road both ways, and then nodded at Jack who pulled the first boy off the roof and down into the carriage. Georgia bundled them up in the blankets again as they shivered and shook, their lips blue.
“Now what do we do with them?” Peter asked, seating himself next to her again.
“They will have to go with Fleming and Jack to Jersey,” she said. “We’ll smuggle them all across.”
She felt little fingers dig into her skin, and she remembered suddenly the small boy under her dress. She pulled him out and seated him next to his companions, whispering encouragements to him.
“You can’t help them all,” Peter said frowning.
“No, but I can help these four.”
“They can’t stay in London. There are too many people around the house,” Peter said. “We can’t risk it. They will have to go to Ravenstone and from there to Jersey. Fleming can find the way.”
“But they are tired and wet.”
“They have been since the day they were born. It hasn’t killed them yet.”
The carriage drove through the dark streets out into the surrounding countryside, and she soon fell asleep, her head on Peter’s shoulder. She woke when the carriage pulled to a stop near a large wood to the south of the city.
Peter gave Fleming and Jack money, and taking charge of the small group, Fleming led them into the woods. Then Peter took the reins and drove the carriage back to London while she stared out into the passing night, wondering how to break the news to Edward that he had fathered a child.
***
“She is with child.”
The words did not have the desired effect they should have had on his audience, and the physician’s smile slipped from his face.
“A child,” Sir Edward said. “You are quite sure?”
“Oh, yes,” he said and frowned. “There is no question.”
“I see. And how far along is she?”
“These things are hard to say.”
“But then how can you be sure she is with child?”
“It is obvious by her mood.”
“If that were true then would it not stand to reason that all women were with child since all women seem afflicted with hysterics a good portion of the time?”
“In her case, the hysterics arise from fear of giving birth.”
“But you did not examine her?”
“Of course not, for there is no need. Usually when a woman says she is with child, it often is true.”
Sir Edward’s gaze remained on the doctor who shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.
“Thank you,” Sir Edward said finally, dismissing the man who was only more than happy to remove himself back to the other guests in the drawing room.
Edward left the library and made his way upstairs to his wife’s room and opened the door. He dismissed Harriet and turned to Georgiana who lay in her bed, smiling at him.
“He told you,” she said.
He nodded and studied her.
“Oh, isn’t it wonderful,” she cried. “I am to have your child.”
“You are to have a child, madam, but I doubt that it is mine.”
His words stunned her. The smile left her face and was replaced by a long wailing sound that removed the last vestiges of Sir Edward’s patience.
“How can you say such an awful thing?” she cried and put her head in her hands, crying.
“Oh come now, Georgiana, I tire of this game. You cannot take me for such a fool, surely, that I would believe our one night together would bear fruit when I myself doubt strongly that our union was consummated, despite your admirable performance.”
“You deny our night of love?” she asked.
“The singular incident I remember is not a night of passion but a morning of well played moments to paint a portrait of a night together,” he said. “I had not paid much attention to the reason for finding you in my bed at the time, but now I comprehend it infinitely better as I do your sudden need to give a dinner party tonight.”
“You would deny this child of yours his rightful place in life?”
“You have played your cards well, my dear, and I admire the calmness and presence of mind with which you have manipulated the event. You have made the servants witnesses to the act itself and now our guests downstairs will spread the happy news. The lie is well fixed by your display of a faint in a room filled with the biggest gossips in London. And the reason they and the good doctor were present was that you invited them. I must pay you a compliment in having invited the personal physician of many honorable ladies in town for it will soon be known everywhere that you are with child and it will be assumed mine. Well played, indeed. Napoleon himself could not have waged a better campaign. I am fast adjusting my ideas of you. Fortunately you are a woman and therefore considered an inappropriate choice for general for I am convinced were you indeed presented with the esteemed position this bloody war would regrettably be ours by now.”
“Then you would call it a bastard and annul the marriage?”
She came straight to the point and he liked her better for it. He could not deny that, as he had ascended the stairs, he had considered the idea she suggested. However, he was not a man to act rashly without giving a matter his complete attention.
He hesitated now, knowing that the situation was far better played if he were to take the advantage back. He turned to the window of her bedroom to look at the street below. He watched a barouche pass, pulled by a splendid pair of bays, and then settled his gaze on the man that stood on the corner waiting for a hackney. Two carriages passed him by, but he hailed neither.
Edward had noticed the man before, and he did not believe in coincidence. The house was being watched, a recent development that he had not foreseen. Such intrigue did not affect his habits, but it did play at his nerves, and he knew that was the desired effect.
“Edward, what is it you intend?” she asked.
She was trying to keep her voice even, but he picked up the undertone of stress.
“Nothing,” he said, turning away from the window. “Rupert and Grace are both fond of you, and Ravenstone has never looked better. Besides, I believe the child’s presence will help me greatly in controlling you, a useful tool, I think, in light of the fact that I underestimated you.”
“You already control me,” she said angrily.
“Not entirely,” he smiled. “You have an admirable streak of rebellion in you, and since you care little for society, it does not hold sway over you. I have allowed you to believe that I was not aware of your dalliance with Markham. I must however inform you he was seen leaving through your bedroom window on several occasions. He was not your only lover either, for another young man was observed exiting through your window, one far less worthy of you. Really, Georgiana, must you degrade us all so? If you must take a lover, at least make him of your own class.”
She did not pale or even seem affected by
the revelation, and he had to admire her composure. He waited, contemplating her next offensive and how much he was enjoying the moment. If he had correctly come to understand her true character and not the victim she played at, she did not believe in a defensive strategy.
“I am not the only one with secrets,” she said.
“Bravo, my dear, grab the lion by the tail,” he smiled. “I expected nothing less.”
“What is it you want?”
“Cooperation,” he said, as the beginnings of an idea came to him.
“With what?” she asked suspiciously.
“It had come to my attention of late that the papers in my rooms have been trifled with, almost as if someone were searching through them, and had forgotten their precise order.”
“You are accusing me?” she asked, raising her chin.
“Let us not dwell on the trivial. What, pray, may I assist you in finding?”
“Why do you know the precise order of your papers?” she asked.
“You are a woman of uncommon design, I see.”
“You will not answer?”
“And uncommon nerve,” he said, annoyed. “I have cultivated a precise nature with the specific intent of an advantage which I am now pressing on you. What has Major Price asked you to do?”
He watched her as she considered this new information.
“Is there someone that Cook does not spy for?” she asked angrily.
“She does do well for herself, doesn’t she?” he chuckled. “I believe your mother also uses her excellent services.”
“She does, yes.”
“What is the ubiquitous Major Price after?”
“He wishes me to find him a spy,” she said.
The wisest and best of men knew the most powerful asset to be information, not money, he knew. He had to discover now how much she knew. Then he could decide his next play.
“Indeed, how intriguing,” he said, an eyebrow raised. “It seems the countryside is not as dull as I had expected.”
Raven's Shadow (Book 2, the Ravenstone Chronicles) Page 17