Lucy Lane and the Lieutenant

by Helen Dickson

  Hearing the sound of a carriage, Gameau slipped back into the shadows.

  Nathan stepped down from the carriage at the bottom of the drive leading to the house, waiting in the road until it had gone on its way. In no particular hurry he turned towards the house, skirting the large puddles that had accumulated during the day’s rainfall. An almost imperceptible footfall behind him made him look around expectantly, hoping it was Lucy out for a last stroll before bed, which was her usual pattern. But the dark figure that stood there was not Lucy.

  Claude Gameau looked straight at him as he aimed a pistol directly at Nathan’s chest. ‘Now I have you,’ Gameau boasted.

  Nathan realised he was utterly defenceless. He had no weapon and he cursed himself for his carelessness. He wasn’t even close enough to Gameau to launch himself forwards against the man and take him down. All he could hope to do was to gain time until circumstances could be turned in his favour.

  ‘You must be aware that I’ve just spent the last few weeks searching for you, Gameau, so if you kill me, everyone will have a good idea who did the deed and they will hunt you down.’

  ‘That does not worry me. I should never have let you go. I should have killed you the day you entered the castle. So look now, Rochefort,’ he uttered with a terrible triumph. ‘See how I will exact my vengeance on you. It was you who brought the forces down on me and I damn you for it.’

  ‘You are wrong, Gameau. The attack on you was planned before I put in an appearance. I merely provided the partisans with necessary information on what I saw in your hideout when I handed over the ransom money.’

  ‘And they acted on that information. You exposed me. I warned you that if we should meet again I would kill you. I always keep my word.’

  ‘So you came all this way to find me. You must want me dead very badly, Gameau.’

  Gameau shrugged. ‘I had nothing better to do and I knew that, no matter what you do in the future, you will not rest until you have killed me. I have my pride, Rochefort, which you have trampled on for the last time.’

  ‘Pride?’ Gameau’s mocking tone and easy manner made Nathan angry. ‘Is that what you call it? Avarice and lust for power is how I would describe it.’

  ‘I do not deny it. I am all those things you accuse me of.’

  Gameau stretched out his arm and levelled the pistol at his foe’s head, but Nathan threw himself forwards. Even as he heard the faint rasping of a trigger being squeezed, in the next instant an explosion rent the silence. Nathan looked at Gameau as he tottered stiltedly forwards. A strange gurgling gasp came from his throat and then a heavy trickle of blood spilled down the corner of his mouth. He gaped at Nathan, his astonishment supreme before his knees buckled and he fell forwards on to the ground.

  Nathan was equally stunned as he watched the man and saw blood seep through a hole in his chest where the lead shot had passed clear into his lung. In slack-jawed wonder, Gameau lifted his eyes to the slender form standing in the drive, towards which Nathan had directed his gaze a moment earlier.

  Lucy lowered the still-smoking pistol to her side. ‘You shouldn’t have tried to kill Nathan.’

  Gritting her teeth together to keep them from chattering, Lucy made a valiant attempt to control her shaking limbs, but her composure was steadily collapsing.

  Still clutching his pistol, Gameau turned it awkwardly towards her, but Nathan kicked his foot forwards and knocked it out of his hand. The deafening roar of the exploding weapon seemed to echo across the Tagus below, sending water fowl flying upwards in diverse directions. Gameau attempted to struggle to his knees, but the effort cost him the last of his strength and his breath, for he fell forwards and jerked and then went still. The pool of water in which the deserter’s body had fallen was red with his blood, and as the red spilled out farther to the outer edge, it was diluted to pink.

  Nathan looked at Lucy. Even in the meagre light he could see that she was shaking uncontrollably, having killed a man. Quickly he covered the distance between them and took her in his arms, dropping a kiss on the top of her head as he tried to quell her trembling.

  ‘Whatever made you come down here with a pistol, Lucy?’

  ‘I—I saw Gameau when I was walking in the garden,’ she uttered brokenly. ‘I recognised him even without his beard. I knew he was waiting for you—to kill you. I ran back to the house for my pistol. I had hoped to warn you before you got out of the carriage.’

  ‘Thank God for your quick thinking. I was unarmed and wouldn’t have stood a chance. With my experience I should have known better than to leave the house without a weapon, although it worries me to imagine what he might have done to you.’

  ‘I was ready for him. I can’t even allow myself to think otherwise.’

  Nathan groaned. His heart had already turned cold at the dreadful prospect of her being killed.

  Lucy shivered as she stared fixedly at the dead man. ‘Why do you think Gameau came to Lisbon to look for you?’

  ‘I suspect he came to kill me because he held me responsible for the attack on his hideout.’

  ‘I doubt he ever considered his hatred of you would cost him his life.’

  ‘Were you not afraid to confront him?’

  ‘I was angry,’ she answered quietly, ‘the kind of anger that conquers fear.’

  As a soldier Nathan knew the kind of anger she spoke of, having experienced it many times himself. It was a rage that one might regret, when it banishes all humanity and makes a man into a killer, but the rage could keep the man from being dead and so the regret was mixed with relief.

  Nathan rubbed her arms vigorously to chase away the cold she was suffering. The shock was settling in. He would have to get her away from the dead man. ‘Come, I’ll take you to the house and arrange for Gameau to be moved.’

  Lucy looked at the lifeless body sprawled out on the road, frightened in the face of death. She had to get away from here, to some place safe away from what she had done. Drawing away from Nathan, she straightened her spine with wilful resolve and, by slow degrees, took hold of herself.

  ‘I’m all right, Nathan, truly. And see, the shot has brought Robert from the house. Here,’ she said, thrusting the pistol into his hand. She couldn’t wait to be rid of it. ‘I’m done with that now. I’ll leave you to explain things while I go and find Maria.’

  Before she turned and walked away, in the moonlight the anguished eyes and the total despair about the beautiful mouth impressed themselves more vividly on Nathan’s mind than anything else.

  He had done this to her. He had caused this terrible transformation. It was just as well they were leaving in the morning. He had treated her badly, taking her from a life in which she was happy and secure to a war-torn country to face possible death. There had been many obstacles to overcome and he had nothing but admiration for her. She had not deserved to be treated so badly.

  * * *

  Lucy moaned and opened her eyes, and the sunlight streaming into the room was dazzling, making bright patterns on the polished floor. A bird was singing in the gardens, warbling throatily and lustily. The window was open—the maid must have opened it earlier—and a warm breeze caused the white faille curtains to flutter. Feeling dazed and disorientated, she struggled into a sitting position, resting her shoulders against the pillows. She stared at the room, forcing herself to go through the ritual of waking up. This morning it took more of an effort than ever—her head ached and she had the uneasy feeling that something disturbing had happened.

  Then she remembered and her stomach plummeted. Last night she had killed a man. The fact that it had been Claude Gameau and that if she hadn’t shot him he would have killed Nathan didn’t make it any easier. Last night she had entered the house and informed Maria of what had taken place, but, having no desire to relive what had happened and what she had done further, she had excused herself and
gone to her room. Yielding to weariness, she had pulled off her clothes and climbed into bed, where she had fallen into an exhausted and troubled sleep.

  She was still caught somewhere between sleep and awareness when Katherine entered the room with a cup of hot chocolate.

  ‘Oh, you are awake,’ she said, placing the steaming beverage on the bedside table. ‘I was worried that you had taken ill.’

  ‘Why?’ Lucy asked, her hands trembling a little as she lifted the cup and saucer and raised it to her lips.

  ‘Because you went to bed without saying goodnight. I came to see you earlier to ask if you would like me to help you prepare for our departure, but you were fast asleep.’

  ‘What time is it?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘Nearly nine o’clock. We are to leave in a couple of hours so that doesn’t give us much time.’ Katherine looked down at her, her expression one of concern. ‘I know what happened, Lucy, what you did. It’s bound to have upset you.’

  ‘Yes,’ Lucy whispered, placing the cup and saucer down. ‘I hope I never have to do such a thing again.’

  ‘You saved Nathan’s life. Gameau came here to kill him. He would have succeeded but for your quick thinking. Nathan would have liked to speak to you when he returned to the house and was sorry you had gone to bed without waiting for him.’

  ‘I was tired, Katherine. Besides, there was nothing to talk about. The deed is done and that’s an end to it.’

  ‘Things are no better between you and Nathan, are they? I—can’t help noticing how strained the two of you are when you are together.’

  Lucy nodded unhappily. Katherine’s eyes were too wise for her age, too knowing. She was, and always had been, in Lucy’s opinion, extraordinarily observant. ‘You would have to be blind not to. I think he’s still trying to punish me and make me suffer for what I did—and I really can’t blame him for that. Having jilted him, I can’t blame him if he doesn’t want anything to do with me. When I think about it all, I feel shattered at the thought of what I might have had—and what I have lost.’

  ‘I don’t see how you can be so fair and objective, Lucy.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s because I’m beginning to see things from Nathan’s viewpoint. I made a terrible and lasting mess of things,’ she said, knowing she sounded sorry for herself, but she couldn’t help it. ‘I doubt he will come near me when we get back to London.’

  ‘Do you truly think that?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘And I was hoping that I would be the catalyst for bring you back together. If you and Nathan do part company—and I sincerely hope that does not happen—what will you do when you are back home? Will you return to the stage?’

  ‘I—I thought I might join a travelling theatre company—do the provinces and the like,’ Lucy replied, lowering her eyes so Katherine would not see the lie.

  ‘But you’ve done all that.’

  ‘Then I’ll do it again. I doubt Mr Portas would welcome me back.’ Tossing back the covers, she swung her legs over the bed. ‘I must get dressed if we’re to leave soon.’

  ‘I’ll send one of the maids to help you,’ Katherine said, crossing to the door.

  ‘There’s no need, Katherine,’ Lucy was quick to say, having no desire to be fussed over, feeling as wretched as she did. ‘I intend to wear my breeches for the time we are on board. I can dress myself.’ She glanced at her friend as she was about to leave. ‘Katherine.’ She turned and looked back. Lucy smiled, although she was unable to dispel the strain on her face. ‘You and Charles are safe and Gameau is dead. Let us not talk of it any longer. I am impatient to leave Portugal and, like you, I can hardly wait to be back in England with Aunt Dora. Thank you for your concern, but I am all right. Truly.’

  Katherine was unconvinced, but she returned her smile. ‘I sincerely hope so. I’ll leave you to dress.’

  * * *

  Before Lucy knew it, the time of departure was upon them. She was relieved nothing was said about the unpleasant occurrence the night before, although it was on all their minds. Nathan had decided to leave the horses behind, which saddened Lucy because she had grown extremely fond of Jess, but she could see the sense of it. With the war still being fought and horses in short supply, Sir Robert was grateful to have them. As Nathan loaded the bags into the carriage that would take them to the ship, with tears in her eyes, Lucy said her farewells to Sir Robert and Maria.

  ‘Remember, you will always be welcome here,’ Maria said. ‘When this wretched war is over, you must come back.’

  Even as Maria said the words—and later when Lucy stood on the deck of the ship and there was nothing but the vast expanse of ocean to be seen—she was filled with trepidation about what the future held for her now.

  * * *

  Soon the days became shorter and the temperature dropped. The seas became rougher, too, and the ship was tossed about like a matchstick. Most of those on board suffered from sickness, including Lucy—whether it was the violent motion of the ship or her condition which caused it she was unsure, because her nausea continued when they sailed into the calmer waters of the English Channel.

  Most of the time she spent in the small cabin she shared with Katherine and Charles. Nathan’s regular visits broke the days up, but she saw to it that they were never alone, although she was always aware of where he was on the ship, even though they had scarcely spoken since they’d boarded. She managed to distract her thoughts when she was with Katherine and Charles, yet one corner of her mind was always attuned to him.

  Nathan made every attempt to approach Lucy, but he was unable to break through her reserve. Her tone when she spoke to him, her very posture, was cool and aloof.

  * * *

  On one occasion after she had been on deck with Katherine, she was returning to the cabin when he caught her arm to delay her, leaving Katherine to go on ahead, releasing it immediately when she flinched at his touch.

  He gazed down at her with puzzlement and concern. Her face was drawn by fatigue. Throughout these past weeks she had been courageous in her desire to free Katherine from captivity, to right the wrong between them, and now he could see how the strain of those weeks was showing. Had he asked—expected—too much of her? What had he done to her? And she had killed Gameau, which he had failed to do—a frightened young woman confronting a killer. Lucy’s upbringing had never prepared her for such a situation and he should have known it—did, in fact, recognise the fact when he brought her to Portugal. He had wronged her and was too stubborn to admit his error.

  ‘Lucy, would you mind telling me what is wrong? Is there some problem I don’t know about?’

  Lucy managed to return his gaze briefly. She was glad she was beginning to know how to deal with rejection. She was able to answer Nathan’s question with scarcely a pause. ‘Problem? I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘The way you are behaving—so cool and formal. I thought we had moved on from all that.’

  ‘Am I being formal? I didn’t realise it.’ If she sounded cool, perhaps even haughty, then she was glad. Glad that Nathan could not see what an effort it was to be so close to him. She loved him so much. Why else would she be experiencing this painful yearning that was equal parts fear and want? She was finding it harder and harder to retreat into cool reserve when she was near him, especially when memories of his caresses, hot, wild and sweet, kept swirling around in her mind.

  He searched her face, hesitating a long moment before he replied, ‘Do you have to return to the cabin? Would you care to walk on the deck?’

  ‘Thank you, but I am quite weary after all the turbulence and Katherine needs my assistance with Charles.’

  Nathan stepped back. ‘Then I will not detain you.’

  As he watched her go, Nathan’s emotions veered back and forth between hope and despair. There was nothing in Lucy’s attitude to give him
any encouragement. While she was acting cold, he knew she wasn’t cold-blooded, but now he had decided that he must have her in his life for good, that he had come to realise that she was his reason for living each day and he had never stopped loving her despite the years between, she had retreated into a chilly shell of reserve, making it quite clear that she wouldn’t accept his attentions.

  He wasn’t going to try to press the issue, he decided, at least not yet. On board a ship heaving with soldiers and civilians and sickness, this was neither the time nor the place, as he told Katherine when he saw her on deck later.

  ‘I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’ve come to your senses,’ she told him. ‘Do you have any notion how deeply Lucy is hurting, Nathan? Your indifference to her of late has given her reason to believe you are punishing her for the mistakes she made in the past.’

  Naked pain flashed across his handsome face. ‘To punish her never entered my head.’

  ‘She is torturing herself about what she did. We have suffered because of it, but I suspect Lucy has suffered more.’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more.’

  Katherine looked startled. ‘You do?’

  ‘Absolutely. Under the circumstances I’m sure I would have acted much as she did. I’ll make it up to her,’ he replied with a sombre smile. ‘I promise.’

  ‘Don’t take too long.’ Katherine strongly suspected there was something other than seasickness wrong with Lucy and come the summer she would have a child to care for as well as her Aunt Dora. Clearly her friend wanted to keep it to herself so Katherine would not voice her suspicion to Nathan—it was not her place. ‘If you delay, you may find she has left London. She’s considering going on tour with a travelling theatre company,’ she said in answer to Nathan’s questioning look, hoping that would motivate him into asking Lucy to be his wife.

  Nathan hesitated an endless moment, then he nodded, shoved his hands into his pockets and stared out to sea. ‘Thank you for putting me in the picture, Katherine.’