by Mary Nichols
‘What do the nuns know?’
‘I have told them everything. They do not make judgements, naturally, but they tell me you have sanctuary here for as long as you need it. Even if Lord Falsham did find out where you were, he would not dare do anything while you are under the protection of the nuns.’
‘I wish I were poor, or at least not so rich, then there would not be all this fighting over me. Someone might love me for myself alone.’
‘I believe Alex does.’
‘Do you?’ Charlotte’s sad expression suddenly lightened. ‘Do you really?’
Mrs Hay smiled. ‘The signs are all there, though perhaps he does not yet realise it himself. You must be patient.’ She stood up to leave. ‘I must go now. You will do as Alex asks and stay here until we know the outcome of his arrest, won’t you?’
‘Yes, though it will be hard. I am so impatient.’
As soon as her ladyship had gone, Charlotte asked Sister Charity to give her something useful to do. She needed to keep busy, to stop herself dwelling on the image of Alex locked in a prison cell and the dreadful prospect that he would be found guilty. How Lord Falsham would gloat! But she would never go back to him. If she had to stay in the convent for the rest of her life, she would do it rather than live with that dreadful man. There was only one man she wanted and no other would do.
Sister Charity took her to the children’s section of the convent where they looked after the city’s orphans. It reminded Charlotte of the Foundling Hospital in London and she quickly became immersed in the work of looking after them, washing and dressing the babies and feeding them, giving them a hug and singing to them. The older ones could talk, but as she could not understand Portuguese they communicated with signs and gestures which often caused hilarity when they were misunderstood.
* * *
Thus her days were filled, but it did not stop her brooding at night. Unable to sleep, she tossed and turned. Sometimes she would rise and stand on a stool to look out of the window. She was on the second storey, on a level with the tops of the trees, which moved gently in the breeze coming from the river. She could see the rooftops of other buildings and below her glimpsed a ribbon of road winding down to the lower level of the town. During the day there were people going about their business, carriages and carts, horse and donkeys being ridden, but at night it was almost deserted. High above her she could just glimpse the outline of the castle against the sky. Was that where Alex was being held? Was he thinking of her, as she was of him? What would she do if they found him guilty? What punishment could he expect? Execution? The thought of that made her heart falter. How could she save him? There was only one way that she could see and that was to give herself up to the Earl of Falsham in exchange for Alex’s life. If the worst came to the worst that was what she would have to do.
She shivered, though whether from fear or the cool air coming in the open window, she did not know. She climbed down and went back to bed. He dreams were filled with nightmares, black shapes, yawning pits, the sea crashing on rocks battering Alex’s body and
her own inability to save him. She woke in a sweat, crying out his name. The moon was shining in the window on to the crucifix on the table. She tumbled out of bed and knelt before it, praying harder than
she had ever done in her life.
* * *
Alex was angry with himself. He should have foreseen what would happen and taken more care not to be followed. It was fortunate he had been dressed as a sea captain and not wearing Lieutenant Fox’s clothes; it gave him a breathing space, but not much. All the same, he wondered who had connected the captain with the lieutenant. He did not think it had been Falsham, but if the man came to the castle to see for himself, he would soon confirm there was only one man and not two.
It was the devil’s luck that Edward had been called away or he might have had him out of this prison cell and under his jurisdiction the day he was taken. As it was he was not sure whether Edward could, or would, do, anything to help him, since he had warned him not to fall foul of Portuguese law. The only thing he had to be thankful for was that he had been taken before he reached the convent. Charlotte should still be safe. That is, if she did as she was told and stayed where she was and did nothing to draw attention to herself. Knowing her, he could not be sure she would.
His anger and misery was not only for his predicament, dire though it was, but for the way he had left Charlotte the last time he had seen her. He had been almost brusque, fighting a desire within himself to admit he had fallen in love with her and the memory of her laughter when she had turned down his offer of marriage. It had reminded him of his last meeting with
Letitia and her incredulity that he would even think she would disobey her father to marry him. The hurt of that had bruised him so badly he had vowed never to risk it again. It was why he had told Charlotte it would only be a temporary union, not to be consummated. A marriage of convenience Charlotte had called it and he had agreed. Mrs Hay had been right, he was too proud, when a little humility would have served him better. There was a vast difference between humiliation and humility and it had taken Charlotte to make him realise it.
If only he could get out of here and go to her, tell her the truth, explain why he had made the proposal and ask her again. She meant more to him than his pride, more than his life, which he would gladly sacrifice for her. What would happen to her if his life was forfeit? Would Falsham find her and, with no one to help her, force her to submit? Day after day, he paced his small cell, back and forth, back and forth, unable to sit still, unable eat, unable to sleep.
The day was set for his trial. It would mean standing in open court, unable to speak the language, unable to defend himself. And the Earl of Falsham would be there to accuse him, along with Madeleine and Grosswaite and anyone else the earl could drum up as witnesses. His masquerade as two men would be exposed, and if Edward Gilpin’s letter to Falsham was produced in court, which it undoubtedly would be, he had not a hope of acquittal. He began to consider means of escape.
He had a cell to himself which had been granted to him as a subject of his Britannic Majesty. It was a small box-like room in the bowels of the castle, with a tiny barred window high up on one wall. He had pulled his bed over to it and climbed up to see out, but all it revealed was a cobbled yard patrolled by uniformed militia whose feet were on a level with his head. The door was of heavy oak and had a secure lock and bolts on the outside. Forcing a way out was not possible; it would take cunning and subterfuge when the door was opened and he was allowed out. That would not be before the day of the trial.
He asked for paper, pen and ink to prepare his defence and this was granted. He spent the time before his trial writing down everything that had happened: the original kidnapping of Miss Gilpin in London, her being taken aboard the Vixen by Grosswaite and the reason he went on board himself, and everything that had occurred since then. He did not know whether it would be allowed as evidence, but Edward Hay would make sure everyone at home, including the Piccadilly Gentlemen, would know he had acted honourably.
When it was done, he wrote to Charlotte, telling her everything, including the fact that he was the Marchioness of Foxlees, and how, if he had not been condemned, he would have declared his undying love and his wish to make her happy, and if it pleased her, to marry her and spend his life helping her to forget the horror of what the earl had done to her. He asked her to forgive him for his faults and remember him as someone whose life meant nothing to him without her. Tears he had not shed since he was a small boy filled his eyes as he sealed it. He did not send it, but marked it to be delivered in the event of his death. Then he prepared to await his fate.
* * *
The morning of the trial was blustery and cooler than it had been; summer was on its way out. Guards came to take him to the court. The room was full of people: the judge, court officials, the prosecutor and witnesses and th
e public who had heard about the case through gossip and come out of curiosity. The Earl of Falsham was prominent, ostentatiously bedecked in plum-coloured satin with yards of cream lace about his neck and on his cuffs. He was wearing a full toupee with side and end curls and a tricorne hat with a cockade. A sword hung on his hip. He sat next to the prosecutor and glared at Alex, as if trying to intimidate him. Alex, sitting alone and in irons, returned his gaze without flinching.
The preliminaries were completed, during which an interpreter was appointed to translate the proceedings for Alex’s benefit, and then the prosecutor called the earl to put his case. Speaking in English, which was translated for the benefit of the court, the earl identified Alex as the man he had known as Lieutenant Fox, but if he really was Captain Alexander Carstairs it would explain why he had behaved so abominably. ‘He once had the effrontery to pay his respects to my late wife and has never forgiven me for taking her from him,’ he said. ‘It was an act of revenge.’
‘Nonsense!’ Alex protested. ‘What happened years ago has no bearing on the case.’
‘I agree,’ the judge said. ‘Stick to the matter in hand, my lord.’
The earl, having made his point, continued. He was fluent and convincing in his act of being aggrieved and desperate for the return of the lady he loved and to whom he was betrothed. He called witnesses, the first of whom was Grosswaite, who told the tale the earl had told at the British Minister’s ball, that her father had been booked to travel with them but had been delayed by unexpected business and because his lordship could not put off his own departure, Miss Gilpin had chosen to travel with him and wait for her father in Lisbon.
Alex, who was obliged to defend himself, rose to repudiate the man’s evidence. ‘You kidnapped Miss Gilpin on behalf of the Earl of Falsham,’ he said.
‘No, sir, I did not.’
‘But you paid others to do it, two men already wanted by the English law for robbery and murder. A ransom of five hundred guineas was demanded.’
The earl snorted with derision.
‘I know of no such men,’ Grosswaite said. ‘Nor of a ransom. It is an invention on your part.’
‘What happened in London is no part of this trial,’ the judge warned Alex through the interpreter.
Alex bowed to him and continued. ‘Miss Gilpin denied many times while she was aboard the Vixen on her way here that she ever was, or ever would be, betrothed to the Earl of Falsham and that you were responsible for her abduction in London.’
‘I never heard her say that,’ Grosswaite insisted.
Alex could think of no other questions for him; the man remained loyal to the earl and he was wasting his time trying to break him. If Charlotte were brought to court, she would confirm the truth and for a second, but no longer, he considered whether to do that, but decided not to bring her into the glare of the public gaze and subject her to cross-examination. If the verdict went against him, the earl would carry her off in triumph. While the man did not know where she was, there was hope.
The prosecutor called Madeleine Salvador. Her name echoed round the courtroom, but she did not appear. Alex looked round like everyone else, expecting her to be brought through one of the doors. He glanced up at the public, all engrossed in the proceedings, wondering if she might be there, and caught sight of Davy, who grinned at him and stuck his thumb in the air. What had Davy done? He hoped fervently his servant had not broken the law or he would be standing beside him in the dock.
Men were sent to find the missing witness and in the meantime the earl was asked to produce his other witnesses. They were his card-playing companions, undoubtedly owed money by the earl, which they would never see again if the man were disgraced. All they could say was that they had witnessed a confrontation between the earl and the accused, which Alex soon established could as easily prove his point as the earl’s, and they were dismissed.
Alex was not allowed to bring witnesses. Instead he chose to question the earl. Their exchange was conducted in English, which had to be translated and slowed the process down, and he could not get him to change his story that he had Mr Gilpin’s whole-hearted support for the marriage and that, although Miss Gilpin was a young, inexperienced young lady who did not know her own mind, she was an obedient daughter and the agreement reached between Mr Gilpin and himself would stand. They would have been married before now, if Lieutenant Fox or Captain Carstairs or whatever name he liked to call himself had not spirited her away.
‘Where was she when I supposedly spirited her away?’ Alex asked.
‘You know well where she was.’
‘Tell the court, if you please.’
‘At the home of my servant, Madeleine Salvador, being looked after. It was not seemly to have the lady under my roof before the wedding.’
‘But she was under your roof earlier. You took her there from the ship as soon as she dropped anchor and kept her there, until she took matters into her own hands and escaped.’
‘She did not escape, you took her.’
‘But you have just said I took her from your servant’s house, not your villa. Which is it?’
The earl looked confused for a moment and then said triumphantly, ‘Both. She escaped from you and returned to me before you took her a second time.’
‘It is obvious that the lady was not inclined to marry you and would do anything to prevent that happening,’ Alex said. ‘When she was at your servant’s house, she was being given opiates to make her compliant.’
‘That was nothing to do with me,’ the earl said
angrily. ‘I never gave any orders for that, nor would I need to. Miss Gilpin was not trying to escape from me. It is you who is the abductor, not I. I am not on trial.’
The judge pointed out that this was true and the defendant would do well to stick to defending himself and not accusing others. Alex took a deep breath, wishing he could call witnesses, but as the defendant this was denied him. Davy and Edward Hay and the nuns would all testify to Charlotte’s state of mind and her health, so would Madeleine if she could be found and coerced. He would wager Davy knew where she was. Captain Brookside would have made a good witness, but he was halfway to India by now.
He turned back to the earl. ‘You said Mr Gilpin agreed to the betrothal,’ he said.
‘I did.’
‘When?’
‘In London before we sailed.’
‘Will Mr Gilpin testify to that?’
‘He would, but unfortunately the gentleman is no longer with us. He succumbed to a fever after falling into the River Thames after waving us goodbye. My dear fiancée does not know this for the news has only recently been conveyed to me.’
Alex was shocked to the core. Gilpin dead? Poor, poor Charlotte. He returned to his seat, nonplussed for the moment, while the court officials offered condolences to the earl. The implications for Charlotte would be overwhelming. She would need comfort, support and wise advice. If only he could get out of the mess he was in and go to her. The judge was speaking, but he could not take in what he was saying. Did it mean Charlotte was free or more securely bound than ever? Did it mean that he was no longer under Gilpin’s instructions to find and restore his daughter to him? He feared it did. Had she inherited the Gilpin business as she had expected to? Falsham would be even more determined to secure it for himself.
He came back to the present to hear a translation of the judge’s words. ‘You will be returned to your cell and sentence will be postponed until Miss Gilpin is found. I advise you to notify the court of her whereabouts without further delay.’
Two militiamen took his arms and propelled him out of the court. He struggled to free himself, but the muzzle of a pistol in his back made him desist. He would be no use to Charlotte dead. He heard the earl laughing as he was escorted roughly along the corridor and back to his lonely cell.
As the key was turn
ed in the lock and the bolts were pushed home, he sank back on the hard bed and groaned in despair. He had been sitting there no more than half an hour, discarding one idea after another, when he heard the door being unlocked again. He looked up as a warder pushed it open and Mrs Hay and Davy came in together.
He scrambled to his feet to bow to the lady. ‘You have news? Is your husband returned?’
‘No, but expected any day now,’ she said.
There was no chair in the room. He indicated the bed. ‘Please be seated, ma’am.’
When she had done so, he turned to his servant. ‘What have you done with Madeleine, Davy?’
‘Me?’ he queried, pretending innocence.
‘Yes, you. She did not answer her name in court. I sincerely hope you have not frightened her out of giving evidence. It could go ill for you.’
‘I have not frightened her. She is not easily scared, that one,’ Davy said. ‘The earl dismissed her, threw her out. There is no fury like a woman scorned, isn’t that what they say?’
‘Something like it. So what happened?’
‘His lordship discovered what her mother had done to Miss Gilpin.’
‘How did he discover it?’ Alex asked. ‘I am sure Madeleine would not have told him herself.’
‘The garden boy divulged it.’
‘And how did the garden boy hear of it?’ Alex asked, suspicion mounting.
‘A hint was dropped in his ear.’
‘And as a result the girl is without employment. Davy, I despair of you. Where is she?’
‘She is at the Residency,’ Mrs Hay put in. ‘I have her there for her own protection until my husband comes back.’
‘I persuaded her not to give evidence against you,’ Davy said. ‘But she was adamant she would not face the earl and speak for you.’
‘Perhaps it is enough. I am indebted to you, Davy.’
‘She brought this with her when she left the villa,’ Mrs Hay said, producing a letter from her reticule.