Love Me With Fury

by Janelle Taylor

  Madison’s worst mistake was in sitting patiently and confidently in his office while handing out responsibilities and passing orders along to men who either ignored them or altered them to suit their own ideas of what was best for their country—or themselves. With powerful men like Clay, Webster, and Calhoun demanding reprisals upon Great Britain, it was extremely doubtful that Madison could hold them off much longer.

  Hopefully these secret papers contained facts which would help Madison make the best decision for all concerned. Those men from the Ohio Valley didn’t have Madison fooled; they only wanted a legal excuse to gobble up Canada. The same was true of those Southern War-Hawks; they lusted after the Spanish-held Florida territory. Greed and lust for power! Was this the new trend? Spencer pondered.

  He fumed at several American inconsistencies. That Embargo Act and those Non-Intercourse Acts had been futile and foolish if America refused to comply with them or remained unwilling to enforce them. What country would respect or fear another one who had been intimidated, humbled, and crippled?

  Spencer sighed heavily. If he could personally do anything to help America recover and prosper, he definitely would give it his best effort, perilous or not. In all honesty, the President was a cunning genius. Madison’s political writings had stirred the hearts of countless men, earning him much respect. He could claim great pride and intelligence in his past work with the Constitution, in his daring stand against Britain’s offenses, and in his Federalist Papers. It was an honor and a privilege to be working for and with such a great man. If only he wasn’t so nonchalant and trusting…

  No matter, there were many other questions and doubts which plagued Spencer tonight. That unseen file was said to be in Lord Grantley’s office for safekeeping until the King himself came to London to study it four days hence. What if that furtive message was inaccurate? What if this whole set-up was only a scheme to infiltrate the American spy system? What if it was a trap to catch him? If only he knew who had sent Madison this urgent message. With that information, he could check out his unknown source’s honesty.

  Spencer realized only too well that if he were captured or exposed he would break his grandfather’s heart. He would blacken the Farrington name for all time. He would be viewed as an American spy, not a loyal and intrepid American hero. Possibly due to his family ties and holdings here in England, he might be treated as a traitor, not an American patriot. In any event, he would surely face execution by hanging, following a humiliating public flogging. No doubt dear, sweet Angelique would enjoy that fate for him!

  There she was again, haunting his mind and stirring his body with desire for her. Damn Angelique and damn the danger! If that mystery folder really contained the important information, it was vital to attain it at all costs.

  Endlessly his brain returned to the mysterious, but lofty, Englishman who sparked his intrigue. Who could be in the position to know about this file and its contents? Why would he pass such valuable information to the American government? Did it truly contain reports from Admirals Nelson and Wellington? Suggestions from Spencer Perceval, Robert Jenkinson, and Castlereagh? Notes from General Isaac Brock in Canada about New England’s defenses and unrest? Papers stolen from John Quincy Adams in Russia? George Canning’s favorable ploys to settle the conflicts with American commerce?

  Many of those men were powerful Tory Ministers or smug men with the King’s ear. As for Adams, there was no telling what secrets his stolen papers revealed. If that file existed, it was explosive; it was absolutely essential to put it into Madison’s hands!

  War was a dreadful and costly affair, more costly and savage when the two warring sides claimed members from the same families. If King George’s plans could be peacefully and craftily deterred, a bitter and demanding confrontation might be prevented. Friends and family members would not be compelled to take sides and to battle against each other. There was no easy choice. Spencer’s mission was clear.

  Shortly after midnight that next day, the tense and alert Spencer slipped into Grantley’s office without a single hitch. It almost seemed too easy for him, inspiring feelings of disquiet and suspicion. His keen instincts and astute mind were watchful and alive against a possible deception. He followed the coded instructions which he had received. All went as planned.

  He found the safe right where the message had indicated. He used the combination which had been smuggled to Madison; it also worked beautifully. He removed the bulging brown folder and stuffed it into his billowy black shirt. He didn’t waste any precious time by even glancing over the contents. Another time and place would be wiser and safer. He stealthily made his way out of the darkened office, expecting an attack at any moment. None came. Nothing! Luck was surely riding with him tonight—or could this be some elaborate hoax to pass along phony information? But then again, his unknown contact had vowed that no one was supposed to know of the file’s existence or location.

  He thought it best not to return to his room at the inn and promptly rode for Farrington Manor. It required nearly two days to reach home by the roundabout trail which would deny anyone the chance to follow him, just in case. He would not risk endangering his grandfather’s life or holdings at this late date. That lovable old cuss didn’t deserve the troubles and burdens Spencer could unintentionally heap upon his silver head.

  Once home, he concealed the notorious file in a secret compartment in his sea trunk. Now that he had his mission completed, there were only two other matters to hinder his impending departure: a serious talk with Will and a search for a certain little viper with beautiful skin and nasty fangs.

  For the past few days, Spencer had attempted to shut out all thoughts of both people and the problems which each represented to him. He contrived a truce with Grandfather Will, giving his word he would seek out a proper wife and would settle down within two years. Will was overjoyed with that piece of news. At long last, there would be a woman and children to carry on the Farrington line. His old heart bubbled with happiness.

  Spencer and Will shared a tranquil dinner. Over a brandy in the morning room, they talked about days of yesterday and made plans for their future. Spencer cunningly avoided any talk about politics and the portentous war which was brewing on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean. Will brought him up to date on the current gossip and their business holdings. For the first time ever, they conversed and planned as two men, as a family. In this genial setting, the evening passed swiftly.

  Spencer generously and selfishly allowed Will to believe he would eventually settle down at Farrington Manor. The time to inform the gradually weakening old man of his intention to live in America could come much later. This peaceful and relaxing atmosphere was too fragile and delightful to shatter so quickly. Besides, he had two years to fulfill his promise!

  As Spencer lay in his bed in his old room, memories of a tawny-haired, golden-skinned female with emerald eyes came to lie beside him. He was aroused by simply remembering their splendid moments by the pond and by calling her enchanting face to mind. Who was this angelic witch who had made such a vivid and unforgettable impression upon him? Who was this mere slip of a budding beauty who caused all others to fade from thought and to dull in appearance? Why had she taken the time and courage to minister to his injury after causing it? The thought of never having her again bothered him more than he cared to admit. Why worry, she would be back at his side very soon, willing or not! he smugly decided in the darkness of his room.

  He mused over his earlier talk with Will. He had subtly questioned his grandfather about a certain peasant girl with locks of spun gold and silver, eyes of leaf green, skin of warmest and tastiest taffy, and with the name of Angelique. Will had never seen or heard of any such female. He had grinned that knowing and mocking way of his and playfully teased Spencer about the smoldering lights which had filled his eyes and the softened inflection of his tone as he had spoken of her. Will wasn’t a man easily fooled; he had quickly realized that some pretty young thing had captured his grandson�
��s eye, had even jested about capturing his heart!

  Yet even at this very moment, Will was speculating about this pleasing mystery. What else could explain Spencer’s sudden agreement to marriage? Spencer had labelled her a peasant girl or a servant. Naturally Lord Spencer Farrington could never wed such a lowly creature; but this beauty had encouraged domestic desires within his grandson. If she could be located, she could make him an excellent paramour.

  Will wondered if this unknown girl was as drawn to his grandson as he so obviously was to her. He laughed at his foolishness. Of course, what woman with any intelligence and clear eyes wouldn’t be! If she were unique enough to catch Spencer’s eye and affections, it was a shame her breeding didn’t match his. Thankfully Spencer had a dutiful head upon his shoulders!

  For the next three days, both men avidly searched for the identity and whereabouts of this elusive goddess who had successfully vanished into oblivion. On Spencer’s last night in England, he was forced to give up his futile hunt for the evasive Angelique. Evidently she was lost to him forever. He could almost believe she had been an illusion if it hadn’t been for that painful lump upon his head. But who could honestly say where reality and magic separated? Where did one leave off and the other begin? Perhaps she really had been a mischievous naiad, he mused to ease his intense yearnings to know who and where she was. Yet, he was also infuriated and troubled by her disappearance.

  Was she perhaps in danger? Why had she fled to some other haven which he could not find? Was she cunningly avoiding him? Why had he allowed that tempting sorceress to get under his hide? Why was he giving her a second thought? Second thought! he exploded mentally; it was more like ten thousand thoughts! Damn her! Where was she? Who was she? Was she simply afraid to confront him or to allow him to find her? How could she vanish without a clue? Who could say, perhaps one day she would magically and unexpectedly sail into his seafaring life again. If so, she wouldn’t get away so easily!

  Since Spencer would be sailing with the pre dawn tide, he bid his cherished grandfather farewell until next year and went to sleep upon his ship; the disguised Black Mist, terror of the open sea when it came to British ships. Humor flooded his mind as he realized the very scourge which they feverishly and frantically sought had been docked under their aristocratic noses for nearly two weeks! But what Englishman would suspect the trusty British privateer Wandering Siren was in truth the American privateer Black Mist? He had given them no reason to suspect him. He laughed at their carelessness and stupidity.

  The last words from Will’s lips had been a promise to continue his own search for this mystery girl who had claimed so much of Spencer’s time, energy, and interest. For some ridiculous reason, Spencer had not discouraged him. Spencer wondered if he only wished for her to learn his true identity as a punishment or was there more to it? He concluded she was gone for good.

  How? Where? No one he had questioned had even heard of such a unique female! How could that be possible? A woman of her overwhelming beauty couldn’t remain hidden! Was she perhaps the private property of some wealthy nobleman? Was she perhaps the bastard daughter of one? But what of her innocence? If such was the case, what would this protector do to her upon discovery of her defilement by some stranger? Would he even believe her declaration of innocence? Would he inflict some terrible punishment upon her lovely body? Such perilous contemplations worried him, annoyed him.

  “You shouldn’t have deserted me, Angelique,” he mused to himself. “I might have taken you to America with me. How very foolish you were, my dear. May the winds cease to blow the day you can forget me.”

  He shook his head to clear it of such wistful speculations. It never once entered Spencer’s mind to seek out a wealthy, single lady who lived within twenty miles of his family’s estates! He had wisely questioned the Hampton fieldhands about a certain peasant girl. Naturally no one realized he was actually referring to their young mistress, assuming he already knew her. He covered a lengthy distance in all four directions without any success.

  Not once had Spencer recalled the scrawny, blond lass who had been only ten years old when he had left home to seek his fame and fortune in America. Why should he remember the two people who had inherited his neighbor’s estate? He had met the father Lord Charles Hampton only a few times on subsequent visits. He had paid little attention to the skinny tomboy who was always racing off in one direction or another in pursuit of some impish adventure. Of course he had met the young Lady Hampton many times when she had come home to visit his parents so long ago.

  Nor had Sir William Farrington considered Lady Alexandria Hampton to be his grandson’s dream-girl. After all, Spencer had called her a commoner. Had Spencer agreed to meet this unusual lady more recently as Will had urged and pleaded several times, the truth would have come to light. Even though Will spoke of joining the two estates, Spencer had no interest in that “spoiled brat” on the adjoining estate, not with Angelique around somewhere. Will fretted over the loss of such a refined prospect. Even if his secret talks with Lord Hampton succeeded, how could either of them postpone an arranged marriage for a year or so as Spencer had indicated he wanted? What a predicament! Will had decided Alexandria Hampton was the perfect mate for Spencer. But how could he convince the reluctant and obstinate Spencer of that fact? His only hope lay in the fact revealed to him by Lord Hampton himself; Alexandria didn’t wish to marry anyone anytime soon. Who knew what difference a year could make in both of them? If he could locate this Angelique and offer her to Spencer as his mistress, could he be convinced to marry Alexandria? Since they were both so much alike and neither desired marriage, they seemed a perfect match! If only Spencer could see and meet her…

  When the first streaks of dawn’s gray light touched the English countryside, a frigate in full sails could be seen moving against the distant horizon, her mizzenmast catching the first breeze of this new day. Spencer watched the Moon Maiden capture the wind with her three wings of white and dig her wooden heels into the foamy cobalt waters on her voyage to America.

  He chuckled to himself. Old Burns surely had them all fooled. Spencer, too, called out his brisk orders and set his own ship upon a different course. He headed his three-masted frigate southward, while the Moon Maiden headed almost straight into the northeasterly winds, listing slightly to the leeward side. He absently observed the other ship until she was lost in the early morning mist, having no known reason to pursue her. His boots firmly planted upon the rolling deck of his forecastle, Captain Joshua Steele issued crisp and lucid commands to his loyal crew.

  The Moon Maiden sailed on toward Philadelphia, carrying the very treasure which Spencer had been eagerly and vainly seeking for the past few days…

  * * *

  Alex strolled along the polished wooden deck upon the arm of Captain Burns. The air was becoming cooler and brisker as they headed toward their destination. Perhaps the spring weather in northern America was different from her homeland. Dread and apprehension washed over her as she glued her watery eyes to the distant skyline. America for a month or so…

  Alex was pleasantly surprised at her early attainment of her “sea legs,” as Captain Burns described it. He proudly and cheerfully labelled her a natural-born sailor in body and spirit. While her dear maid and chaperon Tessa lay deathly ill in their adjoining cabins, Alex was thrilled by the intoxicating beauty and vastness of the watery world which totally surrounded them. The sea was relatively calm and the wind was utterly invigorating.

  The previous nights had revealed a breathtaking view of starry skies and silvery full moons. A sense of adventure and independence sang within her veins. This trip was just what she needed. Thankfully, Captain Burns had ordered an earlier sailing date. In the beginning, she had adopted an artificial air of great excitement about this visit to her uncle, a feigned exuberance which she now truly felt. She had clung to the house and to her room following that fateful day at the pond with Stephen, pretending to prepare for this journey. She had feared discovery by
that strange demigod who had descended upon her so mysteriously and unexpectedly. Once out of her homeland, she would be safe and free, no more Stephen or wanton temptation.

  That time had been well spent, for they had departed sooner than previously planned. She had faithfully promised her father to conduct herself as a lady for the entire duration of this trip. She had also promised to consent to marriage upon her return home, but not until she had inspected his selection of suitors! He, too, had readily agreed with a sly grin.

  Perhaps her father was right after all. Perhaps it was time for her to cast away silly dreams of knights and romantic love. Perhaps it was time to settle down and to begin a life of her own and a family…

  But if such facts were true, then why did she feel so sad, so threatened, so utterly miserable? If the marriage bed—that facet she had feared and dreaded—was anything like her experience with Stephen, could it be all bad? What if she could find some vital man with similar looks and qualities, but minus his dark and forbidding nature? Did another such man exist? She feared Stephen was one of a kind!

  She gradually comprehended that such an idea was too good to be true. How could any mortal man possess both looks and a valiant character? It seemed to her from past experiences that men either had hints of one or of the other. But never had she met any man with with a pleasing supply of both. That is, if she didn’t count Stephen!

  Stephen…Stephen who? Where had he come from? Where had he gone? What did it even matter now? She was half an ocean away from him. Perhaps he had only been an unhappily married man who was seeking an afternoon of carnal pleasures. No doubt he had mistaken her for some country lass, a defenseless woman with whom he could have his lecherous way. Envy and wild jealousy stormed her mind and heart. He was certainly old enough to be married, wed and to have perpetuated little Stephens! What could be worse than to be in love with a married man!