Vevina had read in her history books about the dissolution of the monasteries in Ireland, which had not been as a result of the Reformation under Henry VIII, for Ireland had remained a Catholic country. Their great religious centres had been allowed to remain unscathed for decades.
But the New English settlers had claimed religious devotion to the Protestant cause to disguise their greed for the gold and silver treasures which each monastery contained, and had progressively ransacked the and taken all the valuables for themselves.
There had also been a wealth of books and manuscripts in each Order, and as Vevina scanned the library shelves, she would see old rolled up parchments, and books bound in rich, finely tooled leather.
In 1583, Sean had therefore rescued not only the financial wealth of the Fitzgerald family and their churches, but also their knowledge, expertise, learning.
She looked through the books in awe, astonished at the glowing colours of the illuminations, and saw one labelled as the family history. She took it out reverently, and read the history of the family, penned in both Latin and Irish.
Moving forward a few pages, she could see it had been added to recently in a fine hand, in Latin. She saw the dates of the deaths of the Chevalier’s wife, daughters, and five sons, all within the past five years.
Vevina sighed. The poor man, such misfortune. No wonder he was so desperate to secure the future of the estate which had been in the family for so many years, and contained such glorious treasures. Even if there was no gold and silver, though Vevina was now certain there was, the books alone would have been considered worth a king’s ransom.
But there had to be a treasure concealed somewhere, and Vevina had to decide what to do about it. If it had remained undiscovered for so long, then perhaps she should just leave it, since it would be bulky urns, plate, and so on which might take up an entire ship to transport to it all to safety. On the other hand, Samuel would stop at nothing to get his hands on it, and Vevina knew he was not the rightful heir.
Apart from that, the French soldiers he was involved with might not be terribly trustworthy. It would be a shame to let them have what they were not entitled to, or worse still, allow it to fall into the hands of Napoleon.
Vevina decided to find the treasure, and then conceal it, or take part of it with her if at all possible. Stewart would no doubt find a use for such vast wealth. The Dukes of Clancar had always been prosperous, but had worked hard, farming and trading for centuries. Samuel had been a terrible burden on the estate, with his luxurious lifestyle, but with even a small amount of gold or jewels Stewart could live as he chose. He might even retire from the Army if he wished to manage his affairs full time.
But that was well into the future, Vevina sighed, and in any case it was no concern of hers. They might have been lovers once, but who could tell what the future would hold? When and if he ever did return to Ireland, it probably wouldn’t be with her. She was tied to Samuel, unless there were some way of getting out of the forced marriage. But even if she were free, she knew he was in love with the mysterious woman from his past. Perhaps she hadn’t married him because he wasn’t wealthy enough. Maybe fabulous treasure would secure the lady for Stewart, she thought with a pang.
Then there was her own situation, being accused of treason. No, she couldn’t rely on Stewart’s protection any longer. She had to fight her own battles. Though she loved him, she knew she had to love him enough to make the ultimate sacrifice, and let him go. She would bring him his treasure, so he could marry his heart’s desire, and she would disappear from his life forever.
Vevina wiped away a tear just as an old man with wild bushy silver hair came in, leaning heavily on a stick. He stared at her for a moment, and gasped. He began to topple backwards, and Vevina rushed to his side, and saw him safely into a chair.
She poured some wine from the decanter that stood on a table by the window, and pressed the glass to the old man’s colorless lips.
“I’m so sorry to startle you,” she said in French, “and you shouldn’t be out of bed so early.”
The Chevalier gasped and wheezed as he gulped the wine, and then he drained the glass and shook his head.
“I couldn’t sleep. I had the feeling something odd was happening,” he said in English with only the trace of a French accent. “Then I heard your horse, and I knew. I rang for Philippe, and eventually got the truth out of him. I’m stunned. You look so like a family miniature, it could be you apart from the gown. Go over and look.”
He indicated a long glass case swathed in velvet, and Vevina pulled the cover aside.
The Chevalier explained, “Legend has it that she was called Evelyn Joyce, and Sean Fitzgerald was all set to marry her when the rebellion broke out. She was captured, tortured, killed by the English, and Sean, heart-broken, sailed away with all the family treasures. Perhaps if she had lived her, things might have been different. I don’t know. After all, it is only an old family story. But I'm certain from the legends that he never stopped loving her, and that portrait was in a small shrine all of its own when I inherited the estate from my father.”
Vevina stared open-mouthed at the picture, which could indeed be of herself. “My maiden name was Joyce,” she whispered. “Astonishing.”
“My dear girl, when you get to be my age, things don’t often surprise you, but I also know from bitter experience that history has a habit of repeating itself. Just as the original Fitzgerald family was devastated by war, so is mine now.
“All of my sons have been killed one way or another in this war, and my wife died of a broken heart, I am sure. My daughters married soldiers, and both died, one from childbed fever, with the infant dying too, and one at the hands of looters and pillagers in a skirmish in Spain with the partisans. Her husband Andre was beside himself with grief. She was expecting their first child, and I don’t think he has ever recovered from the shock.”
“Andre?” Vevina asked softly, but her flesh began to crawl.
“Andre, son of the Duc d’Olivier, a dashing career soldier in the Imperial Guards.”
“How long ago was all of this?”
“Nearly a year ago now. I asked Andre’s help in composing a letter to the Fitzgeralds in Ireland after the boys were killed, and then the girls died shortly afterwards. So much grief and sorrow in one family, but then we have always been fighters. Since then, I have been clinging onto life in the vain hope that someone would come to claim this Chateau, put my mind at rest about the future of this estate.”
“I have come to claim it for Major Stewart Fitzgerald, eldest son of the Duke of Clancar, who is with Wellington’s Army in Spain,” she said quietly, watching him for signs of upset.
But he merely shrugged his shoulders and said, “I’m glad someone is finally moving to stop Napoleon. I know I have lost my sons, but I’m Irish as well as French, and I hate anything to do with conquest and colonization. France should have been big enough for him. But if Napoleon has his way, he’ll rule the world. Too much power in one man’s hands is a dangerous thing.”
Vevina took a deep breath, and decided to gamble on these sentiments. “You mentioned your son in law, Andre Olivier. Are you close with him?”
The old man gazed at her with piercing dark blue eyes which were stunningly like Stewart’s.
“He was a good man, fanatical, that is true, but also loyal and honourable to family and friends. He and Alicia were devoted to each other, and completely inseparable. When she was killed, though....” He trailed off with a sigh, toying with his wine glass, which Vevina hastened to refill, pouring a glass for herself as well before she placed them on a small table next to the old man’s elbow and sat close by.
“Andre was wounded himself at the battle, and came here to recuperate. He went up and down the castle on crutches for hours at a time, trying to regain his health and strength so he would be allowed back to the front. He nearly lost both legs, the injuries were so terrible.
“But Andre is a very forceful man. He g
ot well, and got promoted. All of his love for Alicia, however, has been channelled into a bitter hatred of everyone, and I am afraid he and I are no longer as cordial towards one another as we once were,” the Chevalier sighed.
“But I bore you with family stories,” he said suddenly, and indicated the bell in the corner. “Ring for breakfast, and we shall have it in here since the fire is drawing so nicely.”
“Please, wait, sir, you do not bore me. On the contrary, you have answered many of my questions, and I feel I must be completely candid with you about myself and my life.”
Vevina told him briefly about Samuel’s moves against her and her brother, the betrayal at Cuidad Roderigo, and her suspicions regarding a French invasion force being sent to Ireland now that Samuel had hold of all the Joyce lands on three coasts.
The old man listened in silence, but all the while she could see him digesting all the information, planning, calculating.
Vevina summarized her story by saying, “It all now makes sense to me. Andre wants to hit back at the English where it hurts, and he might also feel cheated out of any inheritance he might have been entitled to as the husband of Alicia, or the father of her child.
"Revenge is a very clear, but every evil motive. I am certain they are either in Paris at the moment planning the invasion, or on their way here to take what they think belongs to them. But Samuel is weak, no soldier, and so far as Stewart tells me, and he can hardly even speak French.
“Therefore, he is a liability to Andre Olivier. Andre will use him only as long as he has to. He can bring him here, get him to claim the inheritance, then use him to guide the French forces for the invasion. After that, Andre can cut Samuel’s throat, and take everything in Ireland as well as here,” Vevina said in a blinding flash of clarity.
The Chevalier nodded, and declared angrily, “It is monstrous. The boy is as bad as Napoleon, and will destroy France if he isn’t stopped. Think of how many lives will be destroyed if he gets his way, all over Europe. I agree with you my dear, Andre is behind it all. He wrote to Ireland at my instigation, so I am partly to blame in all this. He has encouraged Samuel Fitzgerald to betray the English, to betray his own country, even to betray you by seizing your lands unjustly. I will help you, my dear, in whatever way I can.”
“But what can we do?”
“I have some influence in Paris. I can write letters, warning them of the situation. When will your coach arrive?”
“It is travelling from Avignon, so within the next five days if it makes good speed, and has no trouble on the way. The Duc did tell them it was urgent for them to met me in Grenoble.”
His expression was grim. “We may still have time. If Andre and Samuel are on their way here, they may have men with them, to take the place by force if necessary. We must be ready for them, and I think you must take the treasure with you.”
Vevina shook her head. “I need to get back to Spain quickly. A huge amount of bulky baggage will only slow me down. I am grateful to you, but I must decline.”
“No, you must take it. Even if Andre commandeers the Chateau and lands, it was Irish wealth my ancestor took, and it should go back to where it belongs, or be used to protect Ireland from the enemy,” the Chevalier argued.
“I don’t see how I can say for sure, unless you tell me what the treasure is. How can I carry it in the coach if it is old plate and so on?”
He shook his head. “But there, you see, is the whole point. One of my ancestors, fearful that it would fall into the wrong hands, could think of no way of concealing jugs and salvers safely, so it was all melted down into gold and silver bars, easy to secrete or transport. They were hidden somewhere here in the Chateau.”
“Sir, if the treasure has never been found in all these years, is it not better that it should be left where it is until the times are more settled?”
He reached across to pat her on the hand. “No, because I think Alicia discovered it, and told Andre where to look, or gave him a hint. I told you he went all over the Chateau at the time he was invalided. I thought it was for exercise, but now your tale has convinced me he was looking for the treasure all along, and I am certain he knows where it is now, and that is the reason for making their move now of all times. If he comes here with a troop of men, they will take it all, perhaps even give some of it to Napoleon.
“I have heard rumours that Wellington’s Peninsular campaign is hampered by lack of gold and resources. Please, Madame, take it with you to safety, give some of it to Wellington to save Ireland. Even if you kept half, you and Stewart would be rich beyond measure.”
The old man outlined his reasons with her for several more minutes, until Vevina finally acceded to his plans.
“You can load the treasure into my coach, and take eight horses to pull it. You will meet the coach from the Duc d’Olivier’s coming up the pass, and can get your trunks and go back to Spain,” the Chevalier pointed out.
“The trunks don’t matter. I can perhaps take some of your daughters’ things if there are any left?” Vevina suggested shyly.
He nodded. “With pleasure. The maids will help you. But we must hurry. Uncover the treasure, load the coach, and go, before they get here.”
Vevina finished eating, and then went outside to inspect the carriage. It was huge and sturdily built. She climbed inside, and ordered the men the Chevalier had assigned to help her to take the seats apart and wait for further instructions. She checked the horses thoroughly, and saw they were fine specimens fit for any journey.
She calculated how long her journey would take, and where to rest. She could stop in Avignon for another brief sojourn with the Olivier family, most likely the last place Andre would ever think to look for her.
Vevina inspected the coach thoroughly to make sure it would be ready for the next leg of her arduous journey.
Vevina checked the coach lamps to make sure they were full of oil, and ordered more oil to be brought. It would be a hazardous trip, but if they drove on day and night, they might be able to get right past Samuel without him being any the wiser. And best of all, she would get back to Wellington’s army and back to Stewart's arms that much sooner.
Vevina returned to the Chevalier, and asked about weapons. He opened a huge cupboard, and took out several muskets, rifles and pistols for her. “I will send six men with you, and the maid. You cannot travel on you own without a woman to attend you.”
“Six men are too many. Two will do. As for a maid, I travelled completely on my own coming here,” Vevina pointed out as she sat down with a sigh and rubbed her stomach.
She felt rather queasy, and decided it had to be the rich food. She was putting on weight in spite of all the travelling she had done, and decided to loosen her corset at the earliest opportunity.
“The journey will be a long one going back, in and out of the passes through the Alps. Go south to Serres, then west, then join the road for Avignon at Bollene. Most of the way will be downhill, but not so steep that the horses will be injured, or the coach go out of control. Which way will you go back to Spain?”
“Through Perpignan, then Barcelona. The route was easy, and they will not be surprised to see me, since I told them I was sent to get the ransom for Captain Olivier.”
“Yes, my dear, but on the other hand, you had nothing the last time, so they had no desire to rob you. If they think you are carrying the ransom, they will be tempted to kill you.
"No, I have friends at Carcassone, Tarbres and Bayonne. Go across France, and then take the northern road into Spain, through Burgos and Valladolid, to Salamanca, then on from there. I shall write you all the letters of introduction you need. You must get back to Spain soon.”
“Why such urgency, Chevalier?” Vevina asked, stunned, as the elderly gentleman’s shaking hands suddenly stilled, and he drew her maps and wrote letters with the vigor of a young man.
He worked on silently for a few minutes more, and sighed. He stared at her candidly, and again Vevina got a good view of his incredible eye
s, which startled her every time she saw them. This man might almost be an older version of Stewart.
“I hear things, even here, and I supposed I have always been gifted with a sixth sense. I am uneasy about Spain, and well, your Stewart.”
The old man held up his hand before she could speak, and said, “I know you are not married to him, you were bound to Samuel against your will, but your destiny is linked to the rightful heir of my estate, of that I am certain. You have come so far for him, and shared so much.”
“He doesn’t love me, he is in love with someone else,” Vevina said in a quavering voice.
“What man in their right mind could not love someone so brave as you, with so many gifts? No, I am sure he loves you, and when he discovers you carry his child, he will love you even more.”
Vevina coloured, and burst out, “How did you know? I’m not even sure myself.”
“I was a father seven times, I know. It is early days yet, but I know. Go back to your man, and be happy.”
Scars Upon Her Heart (The Scars of The Heart Series) Page 23