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

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  She hastily explained the situation with Stewart and the Countess, and then her own fears about Emma and the ball gown.

  Just then, Vevina pulled up the last tray at the bottom of the large trunk, and gasped.

  “What is it?”

  It’s the dress I wore to my own engagement party, which was also a costume ball. Why on earth would Wilfred ask for that to be sent?”

  “What does it look like?” Bob asked, stretching out his hands to feel it.

  “It’s very puffy and silky.”

  “What colour?”

  “Blue, with a matching hat.”

  “Then yer next move is ta wear it to the ball. Emma’s banking on you not being able to, or not seeing any reason to, get another gown, so at the last minute, you can put this one on. Stay out all day, tell ‘er you’ll meet ‘er there, and then wear this one,” Bob advised.

  “And keep a close watch on any woman who is wearing a Helen of Troy costume,” Vevina added, suddenly feeling more optimistic.

  “Well, Mother, you do have a terrible habit of finding trouble wherever you go, but I’ll listen in more to all goin' on 'ere. After all, I’m only a child, so I’m invisible anyway. An' bein' blind makes people shy away from me.”

  “Oh, Bob, I’m so sorry, it’s so unfair to you!”

  “How could it be? Getting invalided out of the army means I stand a much better chance of living until a ripe old age. 'Sides, if this ‘adn’t ‘appened, I wouldn’t 'ave such a wonderful family now.”

  “I only hope you’ll still be so happy when we go back to Ireland. And don’t try to put such a brave face on your blindness. I know it must be hard for you.”

  “Can I tell you a secret?” he said, sitting closer to her at the table.

  “Of course, my dear,” Vevina said, putting one arm around him and resting her head on her shoulder so he could whisper low in her ear.

  “Now you've told me all that's been goin' on, you’re right ta be worried. Truth is, I've seen some strange things myself."

  "Seen?"

  He nodded. "My vision isn’t completely clear, but my room is at the front of the house. In the bright sunlight I can see lots of people comin' and goin'. And the nursery where Jack, Evelyn and Arthur sleep is at the back of the house, over the tradesman’s entrance. Some strange goin's on there too,” Bob informed her.

  “Oh God, what should we do?”

  “Wait until Will comes, but make sure he doesn’t stay ‘ere. Then you can go to the officer’s ‘eadquarters without causing scandal.”

  Vevina laughed and hugged him to her. “I’m so glad you’re here with me, and that you can see.”

  “But don’t tell anyone. The more they think I’m not a threat to them, the more they'll let their guard down. Then I can get the children safely to Wilfred.”

  Vevina agreed, and they carefully packed away the trunk, and put it at the back of her small adjoining dressing room, concealed behind several long flowing gowns.

  As soon as the rest of her small entourage returned from their errands, Vevina confided their predicament. Jeanne and Francis confirmed that they had seen many strange men, supposedly from the Zamora estates, calling into the kitchens at all hours of the day and night, en route to goodness only knew where.

  "I thought it was the Marquesa helping the partisans, but it could just as easily be French sympathisers," Jeanne said in a whisper. "I can talk to some of them next time in French and find out."

  “What do you think is going on, Francis? You know more about Samuel’s schemes than anyone.”

  Francis has been listening intently. “They all need money. France is willing to pay their debts, but there has to be a silent partner in Ireland amongst all these traitors, someone who wants to go back home to benefit from Napoleon’s largess.

  "The Contessa does have some remaining relatives there, and the desire to triumph over them might be great, but I’m thinking more of someone who ran up gambling debts, lost an advantageous match which might have set his situation to rights, and also someone who, like Samuel also turned up out of the blue here in the army with a prestigious commission,” Francis suggested calmly.

  Vevina stared at him in horror. “It couldn’t be! He's always been such a twit.”

  “Well, the only other logical choice is Stewart. Could he have been in on this all along? Has he married you to get rid of Wilfred, get your estates?” the young man demanded, folding his arms over his chest.

  Vevina gasped and began to pace up and down the room restlessly. The brutal accusation had stung her to the quick, yet Samuel’s last words about making sure Stewart hadn’t marry her came back to haunt her.

  Jeanne had followed only part of the conversation in English, but she gasped, “Impossible! The Major loves his wife, loves his country.”

  Vevina looked to Mitchell and Bob.

  Both shrugged.

  “He saved you from Samuel before, when he could ‘ave just killed you and taken the lands,” Mitchell observed quietly.

  “Well, Bob?” Vevina demanded.

  “He loves you, Mum. He could have let you die at Salamanca, but he didn’t. Trust him, Stewart’s not the traitor, though appearances may make it seem as if he is.”

  Vevina sighed, and sat down. “And appearances are deceiving, which is why they want me to wear that gown. Helen of Troy will do it, and I will be blamed. But do what is the question.

  "Appearance is also why Stewart is involved, and what their ring leader has hidden behind all this time. The question is, where is he now? And what on earth can we do to help even when we find him?”

  Jeanne suddenly observed, “The costume ball. No one will be as they seem, eh?”

  “Except some of the more traditional soldiers, who will wear their dress uniforms and a mask,” Vevina replied with a nod.

  “And Wellington, Mother, who never wears a uniform, but always a plain blue coat and grey trousers, even as guest of honor,” Bob pointed out.

  “Well, we have figured out the who, and how, but not the what yet,” Vevina sighed, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

  Mitchell gasped, “What Bob just said!”

  Vevina’s eyes locked with his, and as she searched their faces, a sickening sense of despair crushed her.

  “Yes, but why? And what about all those men from Zamora?”

  “Those ships you went to see, Mother?” Bob reminded her.

  Vevina closed her eyes, and recalled all the sights and sounds she had heard at the docks.

  Her lids flew open a moment later. “Good God, what are we going to do?”

  Mitchell counselled, “Even if we warn Wellington, he’ll still need proof. We must catch them red-handed, weed out all of the traitors once and for all.”

  “Francis, do you think the Olivier brothers are to be trusted in all this? If they know of this, will they still be on our side?”

  “Yes, miss, I think they are honourable men. There’s no honor in selling your country for a few guineas or a dozen acres.”

  “Then perhaps they’ll be working behind the scenes to help if they can. We must get a message to Wellington, and get the children out of here to safety. Jeanne and Francis, I want you to go with them back to Ireland with them, on the first boat you can find. Do it in secret. Take only the absolute necessities, and Rosa the wet-nurse will have to be told at the last minute. Mitchell, go to headquarters, see if any troop ships are leaving. If not, try the docks, but be discreet.”

  Just as Mitchell was about to open the door to go on his errand, there was a tap on it. They all started guiltily and reached for their sewing or a book.

  Vevina nodded at Mitchell to open the door.

  Much to her relief, Wilfred came strolling in, and kissed his sister. He had a rather yellow complexion, but was otherwise his same old self.

  “Will, thank God you’re here!” Vevina exclaimed, hugging her brother hard.

  “I showed myself up. They all seemed to be at dinner downstairs, though I didn�
��t see a scrap of food as I looked in the window,” he remarked innocently.

  They all froze.

  “Mitchell, go quickly,” Vevina whispered urgently.

  Then the small party dispersed, trying to appear nonchalant as they made their surreptitious preparations for the flight of Francis, Jeanne, Rosa, and the four children.

  Vevina explained the situation hurriedly to Wilfred, who gasped, “But the party is in a week’s time. What can we do?”

  “We’ll get the children to safety, and Francis will give early warning in England, just in case we can’t succeed in foiling their plans here.

  "Listen, Wilfred, if they didn’t see you, go out the servants’ entrance, meet Mitchell at headquarters, and then come back in here and say you are taking the children home yourself. Do you have money?”

  “Yes, but surely...”

  “I want you to go with them. You have leave, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Viv, but I'm not leaving you here. I think Mitchell is right. Stewart can be trusted, but all the same, they might be blackmailing him through you.”

  “I don’t care. I must help him. I'm sure he would never willingly betray us, but if he thinks me or the children are in danger, there's no telling what he thinks he will have to do to keep us safe. No, we must get them away, tonight if possible.”

  Wilfred kissed his sister again. "Trust me. Just get ready, all right?" Then he went off to do her bidding.

  Just as Vevina was going down to supper, she saw Stewart enter the house, and he immediately ran up to her and pulled her into a small drawing room on the first floor.

  “Get out of the city," he whispered in her ear as he hugged her to him. "A French force is on the way here, and they've plotted a rising of the city just to add to the confusion.”

  “And let me guess, this is all to happen on Christmas Eve, the night of the Mayor’s ball?” Vevina said quietly, eyeing her husband for any trace of dishonesty.

  He pulled away in surprise. "Yes, but how did you know?”

  “The costumes, the ships, men from Zamora, it all make sense. I'm sending the children away tonight, but I won’t leave you, Stewart, no matter what you say.”

  “Do you have any idea what they'll do to you if they get hold of you? They want your lands in Ireland. You and Will are in grave danger!”

  “Listen, they’ll be coming in a minute, and I still have arrangements to make. All right, I’ll go, but you need to make a huge scene, beg me not to go, and so on. Mitchell and Will have gone to see if there is a troop ship leaving for the soldiers going home for Christmas, so we can get the children to safety,” Vevina informed him.

  He nodded, relieved. “I’ll meet them at headquarters. Pack all the warm clothes you have, and be ready to move quickly. Here, take my pistol, and kill anyone who tries to hurt you or the children.”

  Vevina concealed the weapon in the pocket of her dark blue gown, and raced up the stairs.

  She pulled out the trunk with the costume in it, and threw in several warm gowns, some underthings, and her heavy black cloak.

  Then sneaking into Mitchell’s room, she took one of his uniforms and a fine sword he had won as a spoil of war. .

  These she packed in her second trunk, along with all her other things. She was just struggling with the clasps when Jeanne came racing in, and stated, “They’re here, your brother and husband.”

  Wilfred came dashing up the stairs, and slammed the door to Vevina’s apartments with excessive force right in Stewart’s face as he followed on behind.

  “Come, Madame, you are not going to stay with this blackguard a moment longer. I return from war and illness to find Stewart has taken up with a strumpet right under your very nose. You, maid, pack the children’s things. We leave in five minutes. I have a squadron outside to escort us to the troop ship bound for Portsmouth.”

  Wilfred stood there glowering at Stewart, who had flung open the door, and now began in a wheedling tone, “Surely, Vevina, you can’t be serious about wanting to leave me, after all we’ve meant to each other! Think of the children.”

  “You should have thought of them before you went to that whore,” Vevina shrieked, and slapped his face soundly.

  Stewart snarled angrily, and as he grabbed hold of her shoulders, she screamed. He deliberately tore her gown, and pushed over a few chairs just to make the whole scene more believable.

  Just then Jeanne and Rosa arrived with Bob, Mitchell, and the three infants. Francis and Mitchell followed along behind with their trunks stacked one atop the other. Wilfred looked around. "Everyone ready? Because once we do this, there's no going back."

  They all nodded silently.

  Stewart kissed the children and then her hastily before shouting, “You can’t go! I’ll make it up to you if only you’ll listen to reason.”

  He appeared to hold Vevina back by force as she struggled down the stairs to the waiting carriage, and picked her up to bring her back into the bedroom.

  By now the stunned occupants of the dining room downstairs had come to see what the commotion was. She bought time to ensure that the rest of her party was already safely in the carriage by continuing her tussle all the way down the stairs and with Stewart in the foyer, until her dress was almost in rags.

  “I’m so sorry, Emma. Thank you for your hospitality, and I hope this won’t cause a scandal to your lovely home, but my brother insists we must all return to Ireland with him now,” Vevina panted.

  Stewart was still pleading, “Vevina, see reason, I’ll be a reformed man!”

  As luck would have it, they made it to the open front door before anyone tried to intervene.

  Vevina noted Willoughby lurking in the shadows, and she avoided Emma’s octopus-like embrace as she tried to catch hold of Vevina and argued, “Surely if you come back inside, we can sit down and discuss this amicably.”

  But Wilfred was coming up the front stairs of the townhouse, and plucked Vevina from her grasp before dragging his sister down the stairs and pushing her into the carriage.

  “Stewart is a swine, and shall pay for this. To the Estoril docks,” Wilfred ordered loudly, and the coach began to drive away.

  “What if they come after us?” she asked breathlessly as they began to rattle over the cobblestones.

  “The only horse is Stewart’s now. I’ve drugged the rest,” Mitchell revealed with a grin.

  Vevina suddenly pointed. “The Estoril docks are that way.”

  Wilfred shook his head. “It was a trick. The troop ship is loading at the Roca docks. Stewart will meet us there and say one last goodbye.”

  “I’m not going!”

  “But Viv—”

  “I’m serious. I can be seen to get on the boat, but I’m not going. As soon as the ship is out of sight of the dock, I’ll swim back. Give the red leather trunk to the duty sergeant to bring back to headquarters, and send your own luggage on.”

  “If you’re staying, so am I. We can jump ship at Oeiras, and make our way back to headquarters, and lie in wait for those traitors until Christmas Eve.”

  “But don’t tell Stewart I am here. He might make a fuss.”

  “All right, I won’t, but I have a feeling he’ll go out of his mind when he sees that blue gown of yours, that is if you still intend on coming to the ball.”

  “Of course I'm going, Will. I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Vevina said grimly.

  Chapter Forty-eight

  A week after she had fled Emma's house, Vevina dressed with care in her tiny room at the top of the officer’s quarters. Under the flowing blue gown she wore a pair of trousers, and her most comfortable boots. Inside the left boot was her small trusty silver dagger. Underneath the flouncy bodice, she had a fine chemise, and Wilfred would carry her tunic in his sabretache.

  She wound her long hair into a tight coil at the top of her head, and then placed her mask over her face, and put on her hat.

  She doubted Emma and her traitorous colleagues would recognize her, but all the same
she felt a growing sense of unease.

  In the past week they had uncovered most of the conspirators' plans, hideaways, and stores, but tonight would be their biggest show of strength, the night they had been planning for for weeks, if not months.

  Vevina was also painfully aware that these people were desperate. Now that they no longer had any hold over Stewart because she and the children were safe, they might just kill him outright.

  One thing in their favor was the element of surprise.