What she would do with him then, she was still unsure. She only hoped Francis Baines had been telling the truth when he said he could secure ample proofs that Samuel had been the traitor all along.
But first Vevina had to make the rest of the journey to Grenoble, another hundred miles or so, and for that she needed help. She looked upon her meeting with Captain Olivier’s family with something akin to dread.
She wasn’t certain what she could say, if she could trust them with the whole story. But now was not the time to worry about it. She was soaked to the skin and famished. Vevina hiked on up the hill to the tavern, her desire for warmth and a good night’s sleep taking precedence over her indefinable sense of unease.
Chapter Twenty-four
Vevina was able to secure herself a room, meal, change of clothes and a horse at the tavern, and fell into bed as soon as she had taken care of her her most immediate needs.
She had left instructions to wake her at dawn, and mounting her fleet new mare, she arrived at the Chateau d’Olivier at about seven the next evening.
The bright lights she could see glowing through the windows made her heart lift, and she prayes she would get a fine welcome.
The servants at the door, however, tried to prevent her from entering, and she had to pretend she was leaving, and then charge right through the two footmen into the foyer.
An elderly gentleman just crossing the entry-way stared at her open-mouthed, as Vevina pleaded urgently, “Please sir, I come from Captain Vincent Olivier, though my appearance is humble and poor. Please tell these men to let go of me,” she urged, as she struggled with the two burly servants.
“Enough! Let her go!” he commanded, as Vevina showed him the signet ring on her hand.
“Fools! You, go to the kitchen, and tell the girl to bring some supper to my private room, and you, go tell your mistress to attend us there in half an hour.”
Vevina was shown into a warm, elegant study lined with books, and the elderly man asked her to sit.
“I’m sorry sir, but my clothes are soaked with rain and sea water. I would not have your furniture ruined,” Vevina said with quiet dignity.
The man brought over a small wooden table to the fire, and told her to sit on it without fear of doing it any damage, but sit she must.
Vevina sized him up, and decided that he looked honest and fair. He certainly had changed since she had last seen him about twelve years ago. Now he looked as though he was carrying a crushing burden on his shoulders, though from his face as she looked at him there seemed to burn a small ray of hope.
She was about to speak when the servant brought in a tray of refreshments, and Vevina fell on them hungrily, while the Duc d’Olivier talked of books, the weather, and his family.
Vevina tried to tell him about the captain, but the Duc held up his hand, and said, “No, we will wait until you have eaten, and my wife has come. There is no sense in repeating the story over and over again, when all of us can hear it together.”
Just as she finished, convinced she couldn’t eat any more without bursting, two giggling young sisters of Captain Olivier’s and his formidable mother entered the study.
At first the woman had an angry exchange with her husband, calling Vevina a beggar, but when he explained why she was there, the woman sat down on a sofa with a decided “Humph!” and began to overlook Vevina’s travel-stained appearance as she told her tale.
The elderly woman’s expression softened when she heard Vevina’s whole story of the fall of Cuidad Roderigo, and she was miserably unhappy at the thought of her son having been taken captive.
“He will be well treated, I assure you,” Vevina declared. “We’ll do our best to ransom him, of course. I will go back to Spain with the money just as soon as my own business here in France is concluded.”
The woman’s eyes glowed with gratitude, and then she said, “Who are you? My son made no mention of getting married, and yet I'm sure we've met before.”
Vevina swallowed hard, and explained who she was, and how her situation had arisen. The only lie she told was that she was the wife of Stewart Fitzgerald, the Duke of Clancar, and not the wife of Samuel. Vevina knew she had to claim the inheritance for Stewart, and Samuel’s arrival could complicate things if he turned up before she had it secured.
She concluded, “I know you could have me taken out and shot as a spy if you wished, but I ask you in the name of all that is just to see that I have no wish to harm France, merely to protect my own country, and the man I love. I am no traitor to my homeland. The only way to prove my innocence and help my brother is to stop Samuel’s plot.”
The mother grew thoughtful, and the girls eyed her with open-mouthed astonishment. Then they all laughed, and the Duc said, “Incredible, it is Vevina Joyce, of all people. Your father was so kind to us when we were poor and homeless. I’m sure you were too young to remember, but he allowed us to live in your London home, and even in the Dublin and Cork houses. He was the perfect gentleman, and helped many French people recover after the excesses of the Revolution.”
“And died for it, I’m afraid. Sir. I will be open and frank with you. I am sure my father did not make any arrangements with France to invade Ireland, but I am sure Samuel is doing so now. Samuel had letters with French seals which he used against my father at the trial. At Cuidad Roderigo he showed your son packets of papers and a safe conduct through France with Napoleon’s own signature and seal.
"He's probably trying to secure the estate and any treasure he thinks there might be so that he can go back to Ireland, and become a tyrant over our people if the invasion succeeds. Will you help me stop him?”
Husband and wife exchanged glances. Madame Olivier proved not as vague and ineffectual as she first appeared. But then Vevina knew she would never have been able to survive the long years as an exile in England with a large family to raise if she had been.
“We will help, of course, even if only to repay your father. It is not the time for France to become involved with such dishonorable traitors, and your husband’s brother is just such a man. We will help you stop Samuel Fitzgerald. What do you think you will need?”
Vevina smiled at her gratefully. “A couple of loyal men to escort me to the Chateau when the time comes, and I’m afraid I’ll need some clothes, and a carriage.”
“And what of you? When this is finished will you try to go back to Spain, to your husband?”
She nodded. “I cannot go back to England if I am wanted for murder as well as treason, so what choice do I have? But I also long to see him, and I promise I will bring the ransom for your son with me to Cuidad Roderigo so he will be allowed to come home to you.”
“If you fulfill your task, and if he is still alive,”’ said the Duchess despondently.
“I promise you, Madame, I have come too far to fail now. And as for your son Vincent, he is still alive, and will remain so. The English do not treat their prisoners cruelly. In addition, I spoke with my husband before I left, telling him of Captain Olivier’s courage. Either my husband or Lord Wellington himself will have taken charge of him personally after all he did,” Vevina stated.
“You wouldn’t by any chance have heard anything about our other son, Andre? It has been months since we received a letter, but he too was meant to be going to Spain,” the Duc said with evident worry.
Vevina shook her head. “No, I have heard nothing, and Vincent made no mention of him. I’m sorry.”
“He wrote to us from Paris to tell us he had been promoted to colonel, in the Imperial Guards. We were so proud. It is a great achievement for a man so young, not yet thirty. Do you remember him from England?”
“Yes, I do, very different from Vincent, very serious, a devoted soldier, a fanatical patriot.” Vevina smiled falsely, and suddenly felt a frisson of fear.
“I was such a one once,” the Duc sighed, “but lately, especially since Andre is missing, Vincent is captured, and my other three sons are all dead...” He trailed off, as Vevina ga
sped.
“Oh my. I’m so sorry for your losses. They were fine young men, and must have been so proud to follow in your footsteps.”
The old man sighed heavily. “Perhaps that is the worst cut of all, knowing they chose a life and career in the army to make me proud of them. But they have left behind no grieving wives or children. I can only hope my remaining two sons stay alive long enough to give me grandchildren. I dread the prospect of a barren old age, and I have so much to reproach myself for. "I know it is the first duty of a soldier to obey, but honor, morality, are shifting things, and lately I have had the feeling that there is no honour in this war,” the Duc revealed.
Vevina stared at him as his bright blue eyes bored into hers, and she understood that he would do anything for France, but not for Napoleon.
The Duc continued, “It was one thing to make France strong again after the revolution, but now Spain, Portugal, Russia, even Ireland?” He shook his head sadly.
A grim silence fell upon the room, until Madame declared, “Please, Raimond, it is too late to talk of politics with this poor young girl.”
The Duchess turned to Vevina, and insisted, “Now, we must get you washed, dressed, and put to bed. My daughters will help you. If Samuel Fitzgerald is coming this way, we will have to hurry. You must still go to the Chateau, and find whatever it is which is of such importance.”
Vevina smiled gratefully. “I would kiss you both, but I am afraid I might contaminate you.”
“Go with Sophie and Eloise now, and have a good long soak in the tub. It should be ready for you by now.”
Vevina ascended the long winding staircase, and the two girls led her to a charming boudoir, with cupids, hearts and flowers everywhere. A steaming tub was waiting for her, while two maids stood by filling a second tub.
“Madame is very dirty, I am afraid,” the housekeeper commented in an apologetic tone as she curtsied.
“I know,” Vevina laughed. “You will excuse me if I soak in the tub for two or three hours.”
Vevina stripped off her breeches and shirt, and sank into the luxurious lilac-scented waters. She submerged herself completely, and scrubbed at her hair, trying to get the last of the sticky polish out of it.
Her ablutions did indeed take two hours, but after the first half hour, the Captain’s sisters, who introduced themselves in turn as Sophie, with jet black hair, and Eloise, with brown hair trailing down her back like schoolgirl's. came in with an assortment of gowns for her to take with her on her trip to the Chateau.
“They should all fit with only minor alterations,” Sophie, the eldest of the girls said practically. “My poor girl, you are skin and bone.”
“The army rations are not exactly filling.”
Vevina had to resist the temptation to eat all of the sweetmeats they placed on a stool next to the tub.
“You do not eat,” Eloise commented after five minutes.
“I dined before you came into your father’s study, and my stomach is not used to such rich food. I fear I will be ill if I do not go slowly,” Vevina apologised, already feeling slightly queasy.
Eloise waved the tray away, and impatiently sat with her embroidery, waiting for Vevina to finish her bath so she could try on the gowns.
Vevina approved or disapproved as Sophie held them up one by one. Her main consideration was warmth and comfort. After weeks of riding in the winter rain and snow, she felt as though she would never be warm again. Some of the frothy confections were impossible for anywhere except the ballroom, and Vevina refused so many of the gowns that the girls grew concerned.
“You do not like these?” Sophie asked, a look of surprise in her eyes. “It is the latest fashion from Paris, Lady Vevina, I assure you.”
“It isn’t that. They’re exquisite. But they're far too expensive. I don’t know when or if I could ever give them back to you. But more importantly, the Chateau may be in a terrible state of repair. It may be cold and damp, and I must go back to Spain very soon.
"I'm grateful for all you are offering, but it is far too much. That lace cape with the fur is glorious, but I am not that type of woman any more. That was my old life. I am a soldier’s wife now, and I must put aside such things.”
Sophie nodded wisely and said, “You are right, of course. It was silly of me to try to impress you with such fripperies. We do have more practical day gowns, in wool and heavy cotton, which you must take instead.”
The flouncy dresses disappeared as if by magic, and the women all returned with a wardrobe which would have been fit for a princess, and was also exactly what she needed.
“Oh, they are beautiful,” Vevina breathed, for they were as lovely as anything she had ever owned in Ireland. “But I can’t take them all.”
“You can, my dear. It will give us a marvellous excuse to get our sempstresses to make us a whole new wardrobe,” Eloise chirped contentedly.
“And here is a muff, and a fur cape, and also a heavy woollen one, which has a hood and is excellent for keeping off the rain. It is black, perfect for travelling in.
“And here are some boots and low heeled shoes, but you must allow us to give you at least one ball gown,” Eloise insisted, putting in a white silk gown with an overskirt which swept to the floor in a cascade of lace and red bows.
“And here is a matching shawl,” she said, holding up the gauzy lace, and then packing it into the small trunk with the gown.
Next came the day dresses, and then the undergarments, a huge array of petticoats in the finest of cottons and linens, all snowy white. The two eager girls practically filled an entire second trunk. Once again, Vevina protested, but the girls merely laughed and said every wife needed a trousseau, even an army wife.
Vevina finally came out of the tub feeling wrinkled and exhausted, but completely content.
The girls exclaimed over her wounds, but her shoulder and arm had healed remarkably well, and most of her bruises had disappeared.
She peered at herself in the looking glass for the first time, and there was only a slight discoloration lingering around her eye where Samuel had hit her. She was glad to see her own hair colour again, and the walnut dye had now completely vanished, leaving her fresh faced, with a rosy complexion.
“Such beauty, Madame,” Sophie praised, as she gave her some fine creams to rub on her skin. “You must have a wonderful husband, for your face positively glows with joy.”
Vevina blushed, and applied the cream all over as she recalled the intimacies she and Stewart had shared.
Sophie and Eloise insisted Vevina try the gowns one by one, and exclaimed over the fit, her figure, and all such things as young girls were interested in. They twirled her around, and stuck pins in wherever they were needed to mark the alterations. As she took the gowns off, the serving women began to take in tucks here and there where the girls had pinned the dresses, so that they fit Vevina as though they had been made for her.
After the tenth dress, however, Vevina grew impatient, and decided to put her foot down.
“Sophie, Eloise, I am very grateful, but it is very late, and I am sure ten gowns are more than enough for where I am going and what I have to do. With them, and the cloaks, boots and shoes, I have plenty.”
The girls’ lavish generosity was therefore checked, but only temporarily, for they used the already altered gown as a guide for taking in the others, and continued to sew away while Vevina slipped into a long gown and robe, and dried her hair by the heat of the fire.
The girls wanted to attend to her coiffure, and show her the latest styles, but Vevina shook her mass of silken ringlets, and said, “Ladies, I appreciate your help, but right now the only things I care about is a warm bed, and a long sleep. My hair will only become mussed when I sleep, and your efforts will be for nought.”
Sophie nodded, and pulled her younger, more excitable sister away.
“I’m sorry, Lady Vevina, we forgot ourselves with the fun of it all. We will put you to bed now, and your clothes will be ready soon.”
>
Shortly after midnight, Vevina was tucked into a huge old four-poster bed that smelt fresh and clean, and Vevina sighed. She was almost uncomfortable sleeping in such a fine bed, and it seemed dreadfully empty.
That thought suddenly sent her mind racing back to Stewart, to the times they had had together in the narrow bed in their tent. A blush of desire coloured her cheeks as she remembered their last night together, when he had been so gentle and loving.
“Where are you, Stewart?” she whispered aloud softly in the pitch darkness. She longed to feel his strong arms around her again, and hugged her pillow to her with a sigh.
As she drifted off to sleep for what would prove a two-day slumber, her mind was filled with Stewart, his warm hands, smiling eyes, and his deep thrilling voice.
Scars Upon Her Heart (The Scars of The Heart Series) Page 21