Love and Adventure Collection - Part 1 (Love and Adventure Boxed Sets)

by Jennifer Blake

  She had worn the bee for so long without anyone commenting on it, beyond its obvious ornamental value, that it came as a shock to have someone recognize its significance. She had schooled herself to discretion regarding it to such an extent that it was difficult for her to speak naturally concerning it.

  “You are right, of course,” she admitted.

  “It doesn’t have the look of an heirloom,” he said critically.

  How much could she safely tell him? Surely, he had a right to at least a part of the truth. “No. It was a gift from the emperor to my mother.”

  “A valuable one. It looks like purest, unadulterated gold.”

  Something in his tone touched a nerve. “You needn’t look so disapproving. There was no romantic involvement, though as you say, the gift has great value. My mother was given the bee in recognition of a service she performed for Mamère, Napoleon’s own beloved mother.”

  “It sounds like an interesting tale. This took place in Paris, I assume.”

  Julia nodded. “We were on a visit, my mother, my father, and I. I was five years old, perhaps, and Napoleon had been emperor for little more than a year. We had traveled through the countryside, spent some time visiting relatives still living in the provincial town where my father’s family originated many years ago, and my father and mother had been presented at court. All that was left to do was to enjoy the amusements of Paris. Trouble, riots, conspiracy against the lives of the emperor’s family, prison — these were the last things on my parents’ minds. And yet, they became involved with them one spring afternoon.”

  Rud had stepped into his breeches and drawn on stockings and highly polished Hessian boots. When she stopped, he looked up from fastening his shirt studs and nodded for her to continue.

  “My father left us alone, my mother, my nursemaid, and me, while he went to visit with an acquaintance he had made in the city. We became bored. We left our lodgings and walked along the street a short distance to a confectioner’s shop. We had just emerged when we were engulfed in a mob of shouting, screaming people, one of those sudden disturbances that were all too common in the years following the Revolution. We never knew their grievance. Some said a butcher’s high prices, others the low price paid for cabbages in the market. It did not matter. Also caught by the rioters was a carriage with the Bonaparte emblem on its side, though there were no outriders, no guards, and the only occupant was an elderly woman. Regardless, the rage of the crowd centered on the carriage. They attacked it, dragging the coachman from his box and pulling the old lady out into the street. When my mother saw her, she recognized her as Mamère, Napoleon’s mother. She was a Corsican woman of great courage and pride, but her belligerence only inflamed the crowd. They would not listen to her, pulling her this way and that, spitting on her, striking her. My mother could not bear it. Leaving me with my nursemaid, she fought her way to the woman’s side, took her arm to support her, and pushing and screaming with the best, tried to make her way back to where we stood against the shop wall. At that moment, a troop of cavalry rode down upon the crowd, scattering them in all directions. Those who did not take to their heels were arrested, my mother among them. Mamère was helped with all solicitude back into her carriage, and in minutes, the street was quiet again.”

  “I hope your nursemaid had the good sense to get you out of harm’s way,” Rud said.

  “Yes, she scurried with me back to our lodgings as soon as she saw my mother taken away. A message was sent to my father posthaste. He went immediately to the prison where my mother was being held, but his efforts to explain were ignored. They would not release her. In desperation, he went to the emperor. Mamère, who was shaken, but not seriously injured by her ordeal, confirmed my mother’s innocence and heroism. My father had always been an admirer of Napoleon, but the swiftness with which the emperor acted on the information he received to obtain my mother’s release gained him my father’s allegiance for life. The golden bee was presented to my mother in a private ceremony in recognition of her service to the Bonaparte family. With it went a promise of instant aid if it should ever be needed.”

  “I begin to see why you value your bee,” Rud told her, a thoughtful look in his eyes as he stared at her over the cravat he was tying under his chin.

  Did he? Fear fluttered along her nerves, the fear that she had revealed too much. Keeping her eyes on the soft golden sheen of the bee’s upheld wings, she made herself smile. “It has been many long years since Napoleon presented the bee to my mother. I expect it is foolish of me to hope that he will recall it.”

  “He has a reputation for having a long memory.” Rud’s smile held a mild encouragement. Moving toward her, he took the bee on its black ribbon from her hand and tied it about her neck, making a perfect bow in the back. The action was casual, as if he had been doing such things for her for years.

  Julia let her breath out in a silent sigh as he turned away. He was not going to question her further. Later, when they neared St. Helena, she would have to tell him, but not now, not yet.

  Automatically, her hand went to the bee in the hollow of her throat, Napoleon’s golden bee, which was to have identified her father and herself to him and now must serve for her alone, the double precaution which, with Robeaud, would signal the beginning of the emperor’s flight to freedom and his return to power.

  7

  “Pirates, bloody pirates, that’s what they are! Let them call themselves the Algerian navy or the scourge of the Mediterranean as they please! I tell you they are nothing, but pirates who should be hunted down and exterminated like vermin.”

  It was a small dinner party with an even dozen at the table. They had eaten their way through soup, fish, game, and poultry, with at least three more removes to go. The candles in the chandeliers overhead and in the candelabra that lined the table had burned down half their length. Crumbs, wine stains, and crumpled napery marred the perfection of the table, though the scent of the roses in the centerpiece could still be detected above the odor of the food. There was only one title represented at the board, that of the man who had spoken; still, it was obvious that the other guests lacked nothing in the way of wealth or social position. Julia, watching them, was glad she had allowed herself to be guided by Rud’s aunt in the choice of a modiste. She did not feel at all out of place, even though it had begun to be borne in upon her that Thaddeus Baxter was something more than the merchant Rud had called him. She would not have been at all surprised to learn that the Baxters were used to moving in the first circles of London society.

  The man who had denounced the Algerian pirates had been introduced as Lord Holland. A vitriolic man in his middle forties, he was the nephew of the great Whig politician Charles James Fox. He was well known in his own right as a politician, an impressive figure who showed every indication of having been a handsome youth.

  “Algeria is not the richest country in the world,” his host answered from his place at the head of the table. “Piracy has been a way of life with them for centuries. When you kill off a few, they only come back thicker than ever, and more daring. The India Company has waged war on them for decades. This ship listed as lost to them today makes only three this year, but I know any number of smaller shippers who have been wiped out by their repeated attacks.”

  “The Americans had the right idea,” Lord Holland declared. “Send in the marines, shell their towns, and take back the Christian men and women sold into slavery by force of arms.”

  “And, go to war for the sake of a few?” Thaddeus Baxter inquired. “Algeria is a vassal of the Turkish Ottoman Empire. We might find ourselves fighting a larger enemy than we imagine.”

  “The United States did not bring a war down on themselves when they attacked the Barbary pirates of Tripoli a few years back. Besides, my good man, we are talking about more than a few slaves. The number of men of European blood who have died under the lash, the number of white women incarcerated in the harems of Islam, is incalculable. But I forget that there are ladies present
. Allow me, Mrs. Baxter, to beg your forgiveness.”

  “I’m not sure I want to give it, not sure at all,” Aunt Lucinda said with mock severity. “Have you ever noticed, ladies, how the gentlemen always change the subject just when it is beginning to be interesting?”

  “Often,” Lady Holland agreed. “And, they never ask our opinion on any of these interesting matters, either. On the subject of slavery, for instance. Regardless of the news today, why should we single out Algeria? There are men and women in slavery on every continent. True, they may not have European blood in their veins, but they are slaves no less for that.”

  Farther down the table one or two of the other guests exchanged glances. Lady Holland, according to Aunt Lucinda, was well known for her radical views. She had been seen taking chimney sweeps to task for forcing their climbing boys into hot chimneys, chastising carters who abused their horses, and haranguing mill owners who worked children under the age of twelve at their machines. It was even rumored that she had visited Bedlam, the Hospital of St. Mary of Bethlehem, where London’s insane were kept hidden away.

  “We cannot argue with your sentiments, Lady Holland,” Rud said, playing with his wineglass, “but it is my understanding that armed intervention usually results in the death of Christian slaves in Islam. Their masters would rather kill them than see them go free. Their only hope of escape is to embrace the Muslim religion, since one true believer cannot enslave another. The rub is that a slave must first be offered the opportunity to become a Mussulman by his owner.”

  “You are very knowledgeable, Captain Thorpe,” Lady Holland observed.

  “Not at all. I am afraid you have just heard the sum total of my knowledge, which is only what can be picked up in any Mediterranean port.”

  Aunt Lucinda pursed her lips. “In spite of all that, I agree with Lord Holland that it seems cruel to leave them languishing in their prisons while we do nothing.”

  “Just as Islam holds no monopoly on slaves, it also has far from the worst prisons in the world,” Lady Holland said.

  “True,” Rud agreed, flicking a quick glance to where Julia sat listening before turning back to the wife of the peer. “I understand you and your husband disapprove of the way England is treating the defeated emperor of the French?”

  “We do indeed,” her husband answered for her. “It is a disgrace that we could not be more generous in our victory.”

  Down the table, another of the gentlemen, also a director of the East India Company, interrupted. “We were generous once. We gave Bonaparte his private kingdom at Elba, with a small army to defend it, and what did we get? The Hundred Days, that’s what! And, the loss of the lives of fifty thousand young men. I say the man is where he belongs, where any power-mad dictator belongs, as far away from the rest of humanity as he can be sent. He should count himself lucky he still has his head on his shoulders!”

  “You sound as if he were a criminal,” said Lady Holland. “When Napoleon abdicated and took ship voluntarily for Elba, it was with the understanding that the country he had made great would remain as he had left it, intact. And yet, only a few months later, there were England, Austria, Prussia, and Russia, all his old enemies, picking over it and dividing it up like so many carrion birds. Was he supposed to watch the desecration of all he had accomplished without lifting a hand?”

  “Well,” the gentleman said, “as a woman you cannot be expected to understand these things. For my part, I say the man is more comfortable than he deserves to be. He lives in state, kicking his heels in idleness at the expense of the English people while consuming the most delectable food and wine that can be procured for him by a peer of the realm.”

  Lord Holland leaped to the aid of his wife. “If you are referring to the consignments sent to Napoleon in the name of my wife and myself, I can only say that I have never seen the least reluctance on the part of the East India Company to accept the cargo, or the profit it gains from carrying it to St. Helena. In fact, I expect the company turns a tidy profit supplying the garrison and the commissioners set to guard the emperor!”

  “Come, come, gentlemen, let’s not descend to personalities,” Thaddeus Baxter admonished them, and with more determination than tact, managed this time to turn the subject.

  Despite the controversial overtones, the conversation had given Julia a warm feeling. It was good to know that there were highly placed English people who felt as strongly as she did about Napoleon’s imprisonment. At the back of her mind, there was a niggling worry as to what the British government would do to those who were left behind on St. Helena when the emperor escaped, those who would still be in its power when it was revealed that Napoleon was at large. Surely, if enough people could be brought to see the injustice of his incarceration, there would be no reprisals against those who had conspired in his escape.

  Later, when the ladies had retired to the drawing room, leaving the men to their port and claret, Julia sought out Lady Holland. They sat talking with the liveliest of interest until Julia was summoned to Aunt Lucinda’s side.

  The elderly woman drew her down beside her. “There is something you must tell Rud,” she said in a low voice. “I meant to warn him earlier, but the two of you were tardy in putting in your appearance before dinner. I don’t know if he has spoken to you of his mother? You realize she has remarried since his father’s death, and is now Lady Cathcart? I received a note from her this afternoon. She is in town and means to call on me. I do not know if she is aware that Rud is staying here, for she did not say, but I see no way that he can avoid seeing her if she is determined upon a meeting.”

  “Perhaps, she saw the wedding announcement,” Julia suggested.

  “Doubtless that is it,” Aunt Lucinda agreed.

  “Then, she will want to come and inspect me. Any mother would.”

  “Any mother except Georgina. I doubt very much that her curiosity is maternal.” Aunt Lucinda smiled grimly. “I can think of three reasons why she may be coming, none of them to her credit.”

  “I am afraid I don’t follow you.”

  “First of all, she may be coming as a whim, secondly, she may want something of him, and thirdly, she may wish to cause either embarrassment or trouble.”

  Julia stared at her, shocked by the venom in the voice of this usually mildest of women. At last, she said, “Rud has never confided in me concerning his mother. What little I know of her I learned from the first mate aboard the Sea Jade, and I was not certain how much faith I could put in his version of the story.”

  “I have made the acquaintance of Mr. Free, and in my judgment, he is not a young man prone to exaggeration.”

  “No,” Julia said. “That being so, can you tell me if it is true that Rud’s mother arranged the death of his father?”

  “I wish I could answer that positively for you, my dear, but the truth of the matter is, no one knows. We can guess, but no more than that. What is more important, however, is what Rud thinks, and that I can tell you. He believes it with all his heart.”

  It was not long afterward that the gentlemen rejoined them. As a partial repayment for the welcome Aunt Lucinda had extended to her, Julia allowed herself to be persuaded to display her skill on the pianoforte for the assembled company. Rud was not backward in offering to turn the sheets of the music portfolio for her.

  The instrument was located in an alcove at the end of the drawing room, well isolated from the others. Under the cover of a Mozart melody, Julia said over her shoulder, “You need not have sacrificed yourself. I could have turned my own pages.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Rud replied, reaching to adjust the candle in its bracket beside the music stand as an excuse for leaning over her. “But, how could I resist the opportunity to play the adoring husband again?”

  “Easily, I imagine, if we had no audience.”

  “I thought the audience was the point of the thing. Still, if you would like me to continue when we are alone, I’m sure it can be arranged.”

  “I never sa
id—” The gleam in his eyes was enough to halt the words on her tongue. Taking a deep breath, she said, “As much as I appreciate the offer, I am afraid I must decline.”

  “Why must you? The classical reason does not apply. We have both secular and religious sanction.”

  She struck a wrong note and recovered, though the interested glances turned in their direction did not help her composure. Her color high, she flashed him a furious look. “How can you make jokes? You know that a true marriage between us is impossible.”

  “Careful,” he warned. “You will have them thinking we are having our first quarrel.”

  “They could well be right!”

  “I don’t think so,” he said, stretching to turn the page at her signal. “An exchange of views is not a quarrel.”

  “How can it be an exchange of views when you haven’t asked for mine?”

  “Your pardon, Madam Thorpe! I’ve been so used to receiving your views whether I wanted them or not that I never thought to ask.” When she did not reply immediately, he said, “Well?”

  Julia frowned, searching for words. “Marriage should be based on love and trust and respect,” she said. “Three things I think neither of us has for the other.”

  “So many complications,” he murmured. “I thought all you wanted was a man you could not live without.”

  His last words had a familiar ring. She had spoken them to him aboard the ship in the early dawn of the morning they had left New Orleans. Ages ago. How odd that he had remembered.

  “That too,” she replied, her voice as hard as stone.

  “It’s a pity you ever came on board my ship, then,” he said abruptly, and did not speak again until the piece was ended and he could lead her back to the others.

  Rud was still in a black temper when the last guests had stepped into their carriage and he and Julia were free to retire. He held the door of their bedchamber open, and when she had passed through, slammed it behind them. Without a word, he stripped off his coat and began to untie his cravat.