Scars Upon Her Heart (The Scars of The Heart Series)

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  He continued to scribble rapidly. Vevina trailed outside again with an armful of muskets, and to look at the coach. She paused, suddenly pensive. If the coach had wooden racks on top, and a heavy canvas covering, they could keep the guns up there, loaded and ready at a moment’s notice.

  Even if Andre and Samuel didn’t give them any troubles, the old man was right, there were still highwaymen, the French themselves, and even the Spanish and English might want to take a shot at the coach.

  She got some heavy black cloth from one of the maids so that she could cover over the family crest once they entered Spain.

  Weary, and wishing to be alone with her thoughts about the discovery the Chevalier had made concerning her condition, Vevina went back inside the house. The little maid the Chevalier had designated to go with her introduced herself as Jeanne, and took her upstairs to a large suite of rooms. One there, she had Vevina go through all the clothes.

  At first Vevina took only a few gowns. But she recalled what Eloise Olivier had said about undergarments, and packed the trunks full of all the dead girls’ items. She had some definite uses in mind for them, and picked out the rest of the warm plain gowns and skirts from the wardrobes, no matter how old or unfashionable. The women back in Stewart’s camp suffered all sort of deprivations. What was the harm of taking these clothes, since they would only lay rotting unused in the wardrobes here?

  While the carpenters hammered inside and outside the coach, Vevina went down to the kitchen to pack some food and wine. She wanted to leave early the next morning, and the Chevalier and she agreed to unearth the treasure under cover of darkness.

  She examined the larder carefully, and packed several baskets of bread and cheese and wine, some cold meats, and whole chickens. She would wait until she saw how much treasure there was before she committed herself to taking more.

  Finally Vevina returned to the study, and the soothing scratching noise of the pen, as the Chevalier continued to write and plan, lulled her to sleep at last.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  When Vevina awoke it was pitch dark outside, and she found herself lying atop a huge four-poster bed, fully dressed. She concluded that Philippe or one of the other servants had carried her upstairs, and for that she was grateful. Her back ached, and her head and throat felt sore. But she knew she couldn’t afford to be ill, not when there was so much to do.

  She descended the darkened staircase hesitantly, feeling her way. She found the study, and peered in through the crack in the door.

  The Chevalier looked up from his bowl of soup, and said, “Ah good, I was just about to send for you. You must eat first, and then it will be time to begin.”

  Vevina fell upon the food hungrily, astonished at how ravenous she felt. She heard the carriage being brought around to the kitchen side of the house, and asked if everything was ready.

  The Chevalier nodded. “The coach alterations are perfect, and all we need to do is get the treasure inside and conceal it. The riddle, by the way, was, ‘Only the pure in heart shall find what they seek.’”

  Vevina contemplated this clue to the location of the treasure for a moment, and then speculated, “A chapel of some sort, perhaps the shrine to Evelyn Joyce?”

  “Perfect answer, my dear. The astonishing thing, though, is that no one ever thought of it. There is an old chapel, down by the graves, which many people have searched fruitlessly. The old shrine, however, is now part of the wine cellar, so most people missed it.”

  After their meal, Vevina and the Chevalier went down through the kitchens together, and at the back of the larder, he removed the shelves, and pushed the wall firmly. It gave way with a scrape and gust of chill air, and opened up onto a staircase which disappeared into darkness. “Take the light and go first. I shall follow with the servants.”

  The smell of dank staleness nearly made Vevina gag, and she was terrified of losing her balance on the slippery stairs. Lifting her gown high over her shoes, she edged her way forward tentatively

  “Is there another way to the shrine?” Vevina asked, more for the sake of hearing her own voice than needing the information.

  “The other stairs down to the wine cellar are spiral, very narrow, and built so they go anti-clockwise, for defence purposes, you, know,” the old man said softly above her. “Ideal for swordsmen defending the chateau, but not so good for the right-handed invaders.”

  “I see,” she said, as she timidly brushed aside the cobwebs, and counted the steps as she descended. Finally, at thirty-three, she stopped, pushed hard on the wall in front of her, and stared into the gloom. There was a small altar, and she searched the walls and floor for any glimmer of gold or silver.

  “Not there, my dear, in the ceiling,” the Chevalier called.

  She raised the lantern high. Vevina gasped. It looked like an ordinary stone roof, but was decorated in such stunning colours with a layer of plaster and pigment, that no one would ever think to destroy such a work of art.

  It depicted a crusader on a white horse battling with a skeletal knight in black armour. The allegory was Jesus battling with death, for the crusader had long flowing locks, and Christ’s face.

  “It seems almost a shame to damage it,” Vevina sighed.

  “The treasure is behind it. The ingots are the stones in the roof. There are bags of jewels as well. There are one hundred bars of gold and silver each, and more rubies, emeralds and diamonds than you have ever seen. All of it shall be yours, but we must hurry.”

  The servants, armed with mallets, stood on the altar and smashed the plasterwork with massive blows. The bars of precious metals were brick-sized, and soon a small mountain of them gathered on the altar. The work was very heavy for the men hacking into the ceiling, but as the old mortar loosened, they often had to duck out of the way as several ingots fell down at once.

  Vevina supervised the loading of the coach, with silver bars in one side, and the gold in the other. When the three bags of jewels were unearthed, she tucked them firmly into her corset, and looked for all the world like an exceptionally well-endowed and very pregnant matron.

  As dawn was breaking over the Alps, the workmen down in the vaults were certain that their task was coming to an end. Vevina was delighted, but she felt a sudden sense of unease, and looked at the Chevalier for confirmation.

  “There’s someone upstairs, just arrived in the courtyard,” she whispered.

  “I shall go up the other way to greet them. You clean up here, take the back stairs, and go.”

  The Chevalier tottered out and swung the wine rack partially closed, while Vevina and the servants crammed the plaster into sacks, and dusted off the altar.

  When Vevina was sure no one would notice anything amiss unless they looked all the way up into the vault, she sent the serving men up the back stairs and prepared to follow.

  But then she heard voices raised from the spiral staircase, and one of them was the Chevalier’s. She raced up the back stairs, shut the secret entrance, and then descended, and shut the entry in the wall. Then she blew out her lantern, and crept into the wine cellar.

  Vevina lost her way, and found herself in a room full of weapons. She felt a fine heavy blade with her hand and seized it gratefully, as she felt along the wall with her other hand trying to find her way to the spiral staircase.

  She could hear the Chevalier shouting again, and the words were unmistakable. “You have no right, Andre! There is no treasure. Even if there were, it isn’t yours, it belongs to the heir of this Chateau, Stewart Fitzgerald.”

  “He died at Almeida, sir, so get out of our way. This is Samuel, his younger brother, and the treasure is his, so I ask you once again to stand aside, while my men and I search.”

  “You have no right search my house.”

  “It is the duty of every loyal Frenchman to support Napoleon. This treasure has lain here for two hundred years, benefiting no one except the people who knew of its whereabouts, who entertained themselves at the expense of all those who sought it
.”

  Vevina could hear scuffling at the top of the stairs. She could have just crept up the back stairs, got into the waiting carriage, and made a dash for it, but Andre would have been sure to follow. She had the element of surprise here, and the Chevalier was in danger. She couldn’t just leave him to the not so tender mercies of Andre and Samuel. Once they found out the treasure was gone, they would be beside themselves with rage.

  As Vevina waited, she heard Andre bark to his men, “You two, take him away, and don’t kill him. I shall do that myself after we find out what we need to know. The rest of you, come with myself and the Major.”

  Vevina heard them descending, and steeled herself for battle. At least she knew the Chevalier was safe, so she would kill the next man who came down the stairs, regardless of who it might be.

  As the faint light grew brighter, Vevina crept up to just under a wide passing place which had been carved in the wall. She switched her sword to her right hand as the Chevalier had warned her. Two soldiers descended together, and she lunged quickly, killing them both before they could even begin to defend themselves. The bodies rolled down the stairs, and the lantern smashed, leaving her once again in darkness.

  “Clumsy fools!” she heard Samuel shout in a mixture of French and English, and she could hear three men on the stairs.

  “Francis, go get another lantern,” Samuel commanded. “You two oafs, stay where you are until he returns with some light.”

  Vevina wondered if Francis was the same kind secretary who had helped her before. She was fairly sure it was. At least she might have another ally in the chateau apart from the servants and the kind old Chevalier.

  She heard a man descend, and wasted no time. She lunged, but Francis had brought the lighted taper, and the bright dark eyes of Andre Olivier glittered into her own as she swung her sword.

  He stepped out of the way just in time. Vevina had no choice but to retreat, and pulled down several wine racks as the Colonel pursued her.

  “Who is that woman?” Andre shouted over his shoulder to Samuel, as he plunged into the darkness and waited for his comrades to catch up.

  “Good god, it’s my wife!” Samuel snarled, as Vevina tried to look for a way out, dodging among the wine racks.

  If the light were to go out, she could slip into the shrine and get out the back way. She didn’t fancy dying there like a rat caught in a trap. Her violet eyes held a silent plea for help to Francis, and she saw him move one hand to his coat pocket.

  “You were meant to be dead! You obviously have nine lives. But I should think you’ve used up all of them by now. We can’t let you live, so stop wasting my time,” Samuel grumbled irritably.

  “Samuel, you wouldn’t kill your own wife?” Andre argued, suddenly showing some qualms.

  “Think, Colonel Olivier, if Vevina got here before us, she knows everything, or as much as she needs to to stop us both. All we have worked for will be thrown away. The treasure is ours, and the chateau will be mine just as soon as my twin is attainted for treason.”

  “Treason!” Vevina gasped.

  “Of course. Two Majors, such similar names, easy to make a few minor alterations to a paper, with a knife and ink. If he isn’t already dead, he soon will be, and disgraced into the bargain,” Samuel boasted.

  Vevina’s patience snapped. “Damn you, Samuel, haven’t you already cost enough lives? My father, my brother Wilfred, your regiment? You're wealthy, you've wanted for nothing all these years, and yet you would even betray your own brother, your own country, for a treasure that doesn’t even exist?”

  “It does exist, madam. I have found it,” Andre said quietly.

  “And you, Colonel Olivier?” Vevina turned to him, bosom heaving as she pleaded passionately. “Would you break your father’s heart by doing something so dishonourable as to ally yourself with a traitor? All of your brothers are dead now apart from yourself and Vincent, who is being held on parole by Samuel’s brother Stewart. Vincent will suffer and perhaps even die if I don't bring the ransom soon. Your father will be left with only your two sisters for comfort if both of you die.

  "Please, I understand about your wife Alicia, but none of this will bring her back from the dead. I have no wish to cause your parents inestimable grief by being forced to kill you.”

  The Colonel stared at her for several seconds, before declaring, “I remember you, from many years ago. Such hair, such eyes! Your father, he helped us when we were exiles, with nothing except the clothes on our backs.”

  She nodded. “Aye, that he did. He was the soul of kindness and compassion. But he's dead now, falsely accused of treason by this man here, who forced me to marry him against my will,” Vevina announced, pointing her finger at Samuel.

  “Is this true?” Andre gaped from one to the other.

  “What does it matter?” Samuel sneered. “We needed her lands for the invasion and she wouldn’t marry me willingly. My brother tried to marry her, but I got rid of him, bashed him over the head and sent him back to London with my father. I’ve done it all to help you, Andre. Just kill her and let’s go get the treasure.”

  Vevina’s mind reeled at Samuel’s words. Stewart had tried to marry her? When? How?

  “You would kill the mother of your own child?” Andre bellowed, his eyes taking on a dark fire as he looked at Vevina’s swollen figure, artificially enhanced with the bags of jewels.

  “The bastard she carries is none of mine! Don’t waste your time feeling sorry for that little whore,” Samuel declared angrily. “Kill her, and the treasure will be ours.”

  “It’s Stewart’s! I love him!” Vevina said angrily, the urge to fight to the death welling up inside her. “And he is the rightful heir to all this. If you hadn’t prevented us marrying, this child would legally be the next heir. Please, Colonel, surely you can see how wrong all of this is. Enough people have been hurt. Let us bury our dead, and pray God the war ends soon.”

  The Colonel looked torn.

  Vevina pleaded again, more softly, “Would you hurt the Chevalier upstairs, or your own brother, now under the protection of my lover Stewart in Cuidad Roderigo? You loved your wife. That’s why you’re so bitter. Surely other loves count just as much? I know you love you country, your family. But Samuel only loves himself. Duty, honour, mean nothing to him.

  “Are you going to let him win, and kill me? You can have the Chateau for yourself, Stewart and I don’t care about it. But if there is a treasure, I need it for my country. I've lost everything you remember we once had, just as your family lost everything in the Revolution. Samuel stole it all.

  "My brother and I are destitute. The only way we could support ourselves was to join Wellington’s army and fight. Even then, Wilfred and I have both been hounded like criminals because of Samuel having use falsely accused of treason.

  "Please, Andre, for the sake of my unborn child, let us live. Let this enmity of brother against brother, neighbor against neighbor, country against country, end here!” Vevina argued urgently.

  “Honour is all I have left,” the Colonel sighed, “and I will not take advantage of your distress, and Samuel’s evil. Go, Vevina, go back to Spain, and save my brother. My parents must have one good, decent son left to carry on the name of Olivier.”

  Vevina came out from behind her rack cautiously, but suddenly Samuel drew his sword, and barked, “No! It’s all mine, and I’ll kill you both if you try to stop me.”

  His sword swished dangerously close to Andre, but Vevina ran forward and blocked it with her own.

  “No, Andre, he’ll kill you, and I have no desire to live with guilt over your death because of me. I shall finish it now, avenge my father’s death.”

  Francis and Andre both protested, but she shouted, “Stay back! He’s mine!”

  She wielded her sword with deadly precision, and had Samuel pinned up against the wall in no time.

  “Best out of three, Samuel. I don’t want you to die until you tell me where the papers are that I can use to prove my
father’s innocence,” Vevina said.

  She let him go, and he taunted, “In a secret drawer in my desk back home, but you’ll never live to see them. And rest assured, Vevina, when I finish with you and that little bastard you’re carrying, I shall take great pleasure in killing every man, woman, and child on your estates. The Joyce name will be wiped out forever.”

  Vevina’s blood hammered in her ears at his words, and she slammed Samuel up against a wine rack. “I could kill you now, but what would Stewart say if I killed his own brother?”

  She released him, and Samuel sniggered evilly. “Yes, I must just pop back to Spain and kill off young Wilfred, and Stewart as well while I’m at it. You’ve been an inconvenience I could well have done without, so once I remove my last two obstacles, it will all be mine.”

  Vevina saw red at the threat to the last two people she loved most in the world. She lunged angrily and lost her footing. Samuel dodged her sword by punching her in the stomach, and she fell to the ground winded.