Philippa gave her a little smile as the butler came into the hall.
‘There you are, your Grace. I’ve been looking for you. Did you find what you needed?’
Philippa held up her hastily assembled folder. ‘Yes, we’ll be on our way. Lucien will be anxious for us to catch him up.’
‘You’ve found something!’ Lilya exclaimed as they settled in the carriage.
‘Yes,’ Philippa said grimly, waiting for her racing pulse to slow. The discovery had shaken her and it had been all she could do to get them out of the house without acting suspiciously.
She handed Lilya one of the diaries. ‘Once we get to London, we’ll have something to bargain with. In his arrogance, Lucien has given us enough rope to hang him.’
Chapter Nineteen
After the long coach journey with far too much time to ponder the desperate situation she faced, Philippa was glad to see London. London meant Valerian and London meant action. She’d been idle for too long. A day out of Truro, the weather had conspired against them with a fierce deluge that managed to flood the roads and wipe out a bridge. They’d had to cool their heels at an inn, waiting for the roads to dry out. When it was possible to travel, they’d had to detour quite a way in order to find a serviceable bridge.
The three-day journey had turned into a long week. Now they were here. At last, she could do something.
She directed the driver to take her straight to Pendennys House instead of the Cambourne townhouse. She and Lilya would stay with Beldon. There would be safety in numbers and comfort too.
Night was falling and lights already burned their welcome from the Pendennys’s window when the coachman opened the door and helped her down. Lilya followed her out, gazing about, wide-eyed at the magnificent homes lining the street. Philippa linked her arm through Lilya’s. ‘You’ll come to know London as your own city. By next year, these houses will be well known to you.’
‘I can hardly believe that. I never expected to be surrounded by mansions,’ she breathed in awe, letting Philippa guide her up the steps while she stared.
Beldon was at home. At the knock, he came to the door himself. ‘I thought it might be you. I’ve been on the lookout since yesterday,’ Beldon said, wrapping Philippa in a genuine embrace. ‘Are you well?’
‘Yes, just tired. Lilya has been a great support. How is Valerian? Where is he? Did you petition for a house arrest?’ Philippa stepped back, the questions that had occupied her mind during the slow journey tumbling out of her mouth.
‘Come and sit. I’ll ring for tea and tell you all the news if you’re up to it. Are you sure you don’t want to change first?’
Philippa shook her head. ‘I’ve thought of nothing but Valerian for days now. I must have some news.’
Beldon led them to the music room and the three settled on the cluster of chairs near the fireplace. The room was warm and intimate. It eased Philippa’s nerves simply to be there in a room full of long-ago memories of time spent here with her family, with Valerian.
‘How was the journey?’ Philippa asked the moment she was settled to Beldon’s satisfaction.
‘As good as it could be. He and I took turns keeping watch in the night. I bought kegs of ale to keep the guards affable. During the day I rode in the carriage with him. I didn’t leave his side for a second out of worry that Lucien would take any opportunity.’
‘I wish I could see him now,’ Philippa whispered, staring at the pianoforte in the far corner. Valerian had spent hours at the instrument, playing for them after family dinners.
‘No, Philippa,’ Beldon said sharply. ‘Valerian insists you don’t visit.’
‘I can’t support that,’ Philippa said. ‘I want to see him. I cannot sit around in the house all day doing nothing.’
‘You can send a letter. I’ll take it when I go. Newgate is a filthy place even with my blunt greasing every step of the way.’ Beldon was firm on this.
‘Newgate!’ Philippa exclaimed, horrified. She hadn’t known. She supposed in her mind she’d speculated about the possibilities of where Lucien would take him, but she hadn’t allowed her mind to grasp the full import of those speculations. Of course Lucien would push for Newgate. It was lawless and all the better suited for an accidental death, a stabbing, a poisoning. The guards would hardly care if there was enough money to blind them with.
‘Yes,’ Beldon said quietly. ‘I’ve done everything I can, bought him every convenience they’d sell. He has his own small chamber. He has food from this house every day that I personally deliver myself. Cooky fixes all his favourites. I’ve taken him clean clothes.’
Philippa studied her brother, seeing the signs of strain around his mouth and his eyes. Beldon had only been in London a week ahead of her, but it seemed an eternity separated them. In that time Beldon had been immersed in a dark world of experiences neither of them had ever thought to endure. She heard the unspoken ‘but’ at the end of his litany of activities. ‘What is it?’
‘There’s an initial hearing scheduled for tomorrow to determine if there’s any substance to the charges. Valerian’s friends in the government are outraged. At least they’ve managed to make it a very quiet affair. It’ll be at Whitehall. Lucien’s father is on the committee.’
Lilya gasped beside her. Beldon reached across to place a comforting hand on the girl’s arm. ‘We will be vigilant, Miss Stefanov. Valerian has a friend on the committee as well.’
‘We haven’t come this far to be thwarted now. I have faith in English justice,’ Philippa assured her. She better understood Lilya’s life after spending so much time with her on the road. She understood Lilya’s reaction. In the girl’s country, it was unlikely someone survived prison or hearings or trials. They were all slow precursors to the gallows.
Philippa wished she felt as confident as her brave words. She grasped the full import of Beldon’s news. A hearing would bring everything to a head. If the committee dismissed the charges, Lucien would have to act quickly if he meant to have Valerian fall victim to an accident while in Newgate. If the charges stuck, then there was a very real chance Valerian would stand trial.
‘Can we attend the hearing?’
‘I might be able to arrange it,’ Beldon said.
‘How is Valerian taking all this?’ Philippa asked. It was the question she wanted answered most, but the one she wanted to ask least. How had he taken the letter? Did he blame her?
‘He is doing as well as can be expected. He stays on guard constantly. He knows what the real danger is at this point. But it is wearing on him. I stay as long as I can each day so that he can sleep. Sometimes we play chess, we talk. I’ve engaged a discreet, highly recommended barrister and he’s come to meet Valerian several times in case he’s needed. But at night, I have to leave. He doesn’t sleep at night for fear Lucien will send his assassins in the dark. I can’t say the fear is unfounded. And I think, too, that he fears what he may dream.’
‘I wish I could help him.’ Philippa felt tears fill her eyes. It was dark now outside and she wanted to be with Valerian, to throw her arms about him and take his worries away. Right now, across town, he was beginning his long, lonely night vigil, wondering if this would be the night he had to fight for his life.
‘You do help him, Phil. He was appreciative of your letter,’ Beldon said cryptically.
Lilya took the cue. ‘I think I’ll go on up and unpack. I’ll find someone to show me my room. You go ahead and talk to your brother, Philippa. I’ll be fine.’
‘A baby, Phil? Are you sure?’ Beldon whispered fiercely as the door shut behind Lilya.
Philippa nodded. ‘I didn’t want to wait to tell him in case I waited too long. It seems Valerian and I have an unfortunate habit of holding off on sharing until it’s too late.’
‘Valerian was thrilled, but anxious,’ Beldon said honestly. ‘He doesn’t want his child born under the banner of such nasty events.’
Philippa’s hand went to her flat stomach. ‘These events will be long
past when this child arrives.’
‘Let’s hope so. Did you find anything in Truro?’
‘More than I wanted to find, I think,’ Philippa said sombrely. ‘I have diaries Lucien kept about Cambourne, and about me. He’s schemed to get control of the Cambourne mines for years and he’s willing to stop at nothing to get them.’
Beldon nodded grimly. ‘Then we have something to bargain with when the time comes.’
Philippa dressed carefully the next morning in a dress of flowered blue delaine. True to his word, Beldon had secured the right for them to be present at the hearing. She wasn’t sure how he’d done it. But she’d heard him leave last night to go ‘out’ and he hadn’t been home when she’d retired at midnight.
The carriage ride to Whitehall took twenty minutes. They were expected and an escort hurried them inside into a basement room hidden deep in the building. Philippa doubted she could find her way out on her own. She and Beldon were given chairs at the back of the room and told to remain silent. They were in no way to interrupt the proceedings.
The committee came in and took their places. Three of them were ministers from various departments of the Foreign Office. Philippa recognised Lucien’s father, Viscount Montfort, among them, an older, chiselled rendition of Lucien at sixty. She didn’t know the other two members, but Beldon whispered they were from the Home Office, one of them a particular friend of Val’s. Valerian’s barrister was there as well. Even though it wasn’t technically a legal proceeding, Beldon had insisted.
Valerian was brought in at five minutes past the hour and Philippa’s heart was in her throat at the sight of him. He was dressed well for a man who’d had to dress without his valet. His clothes were clean, and his hair was well ordered. But his features were haggard, his skin pale. For a man who loved the outdoors, she was starting to realise just what an agony the week in Newgate had been.
But his eyes were sharp as they swept the room, assessing the committee, taking the measure of each man present. His roving gaze fell on her in the back of the dim room. Philippa sat up straighter, fighting the urge to acknowledge him in some way. She didn’t dare call out for fear of being dismissed. But she did hazard a wave of her hand in hopes that he would see that she wore the ring he’d given her. In fact, she hadn’t taken it off since Lucien had come to take him away. She thought she saw the minutest of smiles pass across his lips.
Philippa was here. Her presence shocked him utterly. Valerian had not expected it. Indeed, he was beleaguered by conflicting emotions at the very sight of her. He’d hungered for her steady presence all week, filling his lonely night-vigils with the mental pictures he had of her and the new ones he conjured up of her growing big with their child. That news had overwhelmed him with joy in spite of the darkness he faced.
This morning, he thrilled to the sight of her serene beauty lighting up the back of the room, knowing that such loveliness was a mere foil for the intelligence and temper that lay beneath the surface. The sight of his ring on her finger meant more to him in that moment than she could probably guess or understand.
But now that she was here, he’d rather she not be subjected to what the hearing would reveal. She would leave here firm in the knowledge that he was a tarnished hero, if a hero at all. He’d done his country’s bidding, but it had often been grim work. He hoped it had been worth it, that his services in all their forms would be enough to offset the death of Turkish soldiers by his hand.
Valerian knew how important it was that he fight these charges with everything at his disposal. The longer he remained in Newgate, the longer Lucien held the upper hand. He didn’t worry so much for himself. In a fair fight, he could manage Lucien’s henchmen. It was Philippa for whom he had the most concern. The longer he was imprisoned, the longer she was unguarded. Of course, she had Beldon, but Beldon could not be in two places at once. Beldon could not watch them both.
He sat straight in his chair, refusing to look ashamed of the charges as they were read.
‘What do you have to say to these charges?’ the chairman of the committee asked, setting down the papers.
Valerian speared him with a sharp glance. ‘I rescued two innocent children from certain death, one of them a babe only a few months old. Since when is it England’s policy to make war on women and children who have no say in the politics and treaties of men?
‘I for one could not countenance such wanton and unnecessary violence. They were of no threat to us or our ambitions in the region. Yet the Turks were allowed to destroy their homes and take their lives. I do not believe any of you gentlemen would stand by and watch that type of slaughter take place if you had the means to stop it.’ Valerian looked each of them in the eye. ‘Am I wrong? Has English chivalry been bought for gold and trade routes?’
The men shifted uncomfortably in their seats. He’d hit a mark with them. No one would want to be branded a coward and they’d certainly appear less than saintly if they argued it was acceptable to slay women and children, all for the sake of a passage to India.
Viscount Montfort blazed at the insinuations. ‘You paint the truth too lightly, St Just. You didn’t save random children on a battlefield. The children you saved were the get of rebel leader Dimitri Stefanov. He worked hand in glove with the secret society, Filiki Eteria, to fight against the Turks. You befriended Stefanov’s family and remained in contact with them after British negotiations with the Phanariots ceased.’ Montfort pointed an accusing finger at him. ‘You were the last visitor to see Stefanov alive before his execution. You stand as guardian to his surviving children.’
‘I was,’ Valerian answered smoothly. ‘Children are children, it hardly matters who their fathers are. They are all worthy of our protection.’
The chairman glared at Montfort. ‘These proceedings must be managed in an orderly fashion. We will get to everything in time, but we must not resort to outbursts.’
Valerian’s barrister intervened. ‘Viscount St Just has an exemplary record of loyal service to England in the discharge of his duties abroad.’ The man skillfully began laying out Valerian’s career. ‘He was responsible for critical negotiations in Morea that mitigated the civil war there…’
The list was long and Valerian was well familiar with it. From his work in Port Navarino to prevent an Egyptian invasion of Morea, to the sinking of the Egyptian navy, which ended Egypt’s bid for power in the area, to the Phanariot issue and ultimately his latest participation in the London Protocols, he’d participated deeply in what had once seemed to him a noble calling.
Even after the harsh realities of his work had become apparent to him, he’d stayed involved, no longer for the sake of lofty philosophical principles, but in the hopes that he could do something practical. He no longer ascribed to the battle cry of ‘make the world England’ but to his own heartfelt calling—make the world better.
The barrister had set down his list. ‘I submit to the committee that this is a man who hasn’t a dishonourable bone in his body, who has spent his life serving England most nobly. To even suggest that what happened on the battlefield in Negush is akin to treason is an absurdity and waste of our time.’
Valerian watched the group for a reaction. Beldon had found a deuce fine barrister. He almost believed his work had been useful once the man had finished with the list. The group seemed to think that, too, except for Montfort.
‘We are splitting hairs over an issue that can only be black and white. We cannot start forming grey areas where national security is concerned,’ Montfort began. ‘We cannot begin establishing different standards for different situations. He killed allies who were acting in British interests. He did it deliberately in an attempt to protect the enemy. By doing so, he put a rebel’s concern above the needs of his country. If he’d killed Englishmen to save the children of rebels, I think you’d feel quite differently about where the line is drawn in the sand. Our sands cannot shift.’
One of the ministers nodded his head slightly and Valerian began to wonder how ma
ny of these men Montfort had in his pocket. Montfort meant to take the high ground and argue from a philosophical standpoint. It would come down to philosophies against practicalities. Reality against theory. Honour against dishonour, and what constituted either.
‘If that is all, the committee will deliberate,’ the chairman said. ‘Viscount St Just, you’ll be informed of our decision as soon as it is made. It could be hours, or days.’
Valerian rose and nodded to the group. ‘I thank you for your time, gentlemen.’
A guard came forwards to escort him from the room. He fought back his disappointment. He couldn’t allow himself to think of going back to the tiny room. If he dwelled on it, he thought he might go mad. The precarious nature of his safety while at Newgate made it impossible to wander about the yards. Even with Beldon’s presence, he felt it was too dangerous to risk his friend. It would be all too easy for one or both of them to fall prey to a subtle knife as they walked passed. He wouldn’t allow the committee, most of all Montfort, to see how the thought of going back affected him. He didn’t dare look back at Philippa and Beldon. He didn’t have the mental fortitude left to manage that as well. More than he wanted daylight and sun and clean air, he wanted Philippa.
In the hall, there was a patter of heels purposefully clicking on the flagstones. Philippa’s voice called out in its most imperious tone. ‘Guard, I’ll need a minute with the viscount.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t allow that. I have orders…’ the guard stammered, clearly weighing the haughty woman in front of him against the orders of his supervisor at Newgate who was across town, tucked away in his office fleecing bribe money from unfortunate patrons.
‘There’s a room right here. I just want a moment,’ Philippa said, gesturing to the small room off to her left. She didn’t wait for the guard’s approval. Instead, she took Valerian’s hand and marched into the room. She slammed the door in the guard’s face, hearing him protest and then Beldon’s smooth tones reassuring him all would be well.
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