Vidal's Honor

by Sherry Gloag

  “Quite so,” she said when he didn’t reply, and leaned back against the squabs with a sigh. “Quite so,” she repeated. She withdrew her hand from Consuela’s grip, closed her eyes, and let the rhythm of the coach lull her to sleep.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Storms lashed their vehicle as they drove into the small coastal village east of Cherbourg. More like a fishing hamlet, Vidal thought, as he studied the huddle of buildings squatting at the boundary where sea and land battled for supremacy. Although the lack of information rankled, Vidal understood why Jacques refused to offer any more detailed information.

  He’d been shut up in the coach opposite Honor for too long and descended onto the sodden street with a sigh of relief.

  Waves as dense as the sky lashed against the cliffs and he reflected on how they’d reach a boat in such rough weather. Pinpricks of light pierced the darkness. Weary from their flight from the inn, he, with the others, followed Jacques into the small tavern.

  Was it always so deserted, Vidal wondered, and studied the watchful face of the landlord who’d entered into a heated discussion with Jacques.

  “What is the matter?” Honor, her gaze still fixed on the arguing men, tapped Vidal on his arm.

  “The innkeeper says he must have proof and Jacques declares the man knows him well enough not to be such a dolt as to question his word or his authority.”

  With a nod she stepped away from him and joined the two men. The scene in the Bordeaux square, nearly three weeks ago, flashed through his mind, Dumas removing something from round his neck, and putting it over Honor’s head. His bending close to her and speaking for several minutes while she looked up at him and occasionally nodded, her fingers playing with the gold chain. The gold chain she’d just pulled out so everyone could see the emerald ring.

  “I gather you are expecting some kind of proof from our guide?” She needed to concentrate in an effort to follow and make herself understood in French. She stepped back when the tavern keeper stretched out his hand in an attempt to grab the ring swinging on the gold chain.

  “Where is the captain of the boat that is to carry us across the Channel?”

  Vidal stepped forward when the innkeeper beat upon his chest and uttered a string of comments or curses Honor obviously did not understand.

  “He says he is the captain of the boat and he will not take us onboard until you give him more proof.” He laid a cautionary hand on her arm. “I believe he wants you to hand over the ring.”

  “If that is what it will take, we will look elsewhere for our transport and when we reach England we will make sure information about this disgraceful situation lands in the hands of the local gendarme.” She turned to Jacques.

  “It is clear this man intends to obstruct your master’s orders, and I am sure you know the rightful identity of the captain, so I suggest you lead the way.”

  Only her footsteps as she marched to the door disturbed the silence following her tirade.

  “You misunderstand me.” The innkeeper strode after her and clamped his fingers round her arm.

  “I think not.”

  Fury sparked in Honor’s eyes as she held the man’s gaze. “Le duc left instructions which you deem fit to ignore—“

  “He can’t help you now, m’lady, so hand over the ring.”

  “He may not be here, but be warned he will hear of your defiance.”

  “Not ‘e, he’s done for.”

  Vidal wanted to intervene when her face blanched with fear, then flamed with anger. It took a single look in his direction for him to remain where he stood.

  “If you believe that then I pity you when he hears of your treachery. Now take your dirty hands off me and stop wasting our time and send for the captain of the boat.”

  The innkeeper lowered his gaze first, swore and strode from the building.

  “I seriously misjudged you.” The awe in Juan’s voice snapped Honor’s head round, fury still glowing in her eyes.

  “I could have told you weeks ago, but you wouldn’t have paid any more attention to me then than that stupid man is doing so now. At this very minute he is probably reporting us to the local gendarme.”

  “You are wrong madam. At your request I fetched my brother who is the captain you wish to speak to.” The innkeeper let the door slam shut behind him and thrust a tall, wiry man forward.

  “Thank you, now leave us.”

  Deciding she’d held the floor long enough and the strain would soon take its toll, Vidal crossed the room and stood at her side.

  When the innkeeper left the room without closing the door he nodded to Juan who slammed it shut with his foot.

  “If that is indeed your brother, I am afraid it is us who need some proof you are indeed charged with our safe passage across the channel.”

  For a moment the newcomer assessed them then let his attention rest on Jacques. “You can vouch for these people?”

  “I can.”

  No hesitation there. Vidal released the breath hadn’t known had backed up in his lungs.

  With a nod the stranger reached out to finger the emerald now dangling at the end of the gold chain. “A misnamed queen I believe.”

  “Ah! 'If this is the Marie Anne, not the queen',” Honor said, “then I believe you have its twin.”

  What in the dickens was Honor talking about? What twins? To his amazement Honor smiled, tucked the emerald beneath the neckline of her gown and waited. It seemed an age to Vidal before the man dug into his pocket and pulled out another emerald ring. A twin to the one hanging round her neck!

  “The innkeeper means well, but sometimes he is foolish,” Jacques said. "Pay no attention to him.” When Honor inclined her head in acceptance, the captain, his hand extended, stepped forward.

  “This is for you.”

  “Me?” Not following the trend of events unfolding in front of him, Vidal automatically held out his hand for the second ring. “I don’t understand. Why would you give this to me?”

  “Because it is an exchange of trust, and a symbol of friendship. I was told you would know what it means, for I do not.” He held up his hand before anyone could speak. “I understand about the exchange of trust. Your woman played her part well, and now it is your turn to accept the symbol of trust placed on you.”

  Once more the skipper dug into his jacket pocket and handed over a sealed letter. “Do not stop to read it until we are away from here. Now follow me.”

  He walked to the far side of the room, fiddled with a panel of wood, and waited while it slid open to reveal a dark aperture beyond. He picked up one of the two lanterns in the room and requested Jacques to carry the other.

  “Come, if we do not make haste we will miss the tide.”

  * * * *

  The sound of waves crashing on the shore almost distracted Honor’s attention from their baggage which someone had carried on board while they’d been in the inn. The yacht pitched and swayed on its moorings and Honor’s stomach heaved before she even set foot on the vessel. This time she didn’t have Dev to hold her forehead while she lost the contents of her stomach, or to hand her a glass of wine to wash aware to sour taste in her mouth. She hesitated, knowing time was not on their side, and yet reluctant to face the mortification ahead of her. The discomfort would be bad enough, but hadn’t she shown too much physical weakness for one trip? With a sense of inevitability she stepped aboard and made a grab for the railing. Surely her humiliation could wait until they were well away from land?

  “I have never been in a boat before.” Consuela’s excitement added to her own misery. “Look Juan.” Whatever she wanted Juan to see, Honor kept her eyes shut tight and her breathing deep and slow. The rhythmic slap of wind in fully hoisted sails told her it would not be long before they left the shore.

  “My poor girl, why did you not say something?” The warmth of Vidal’s arm round her shoulder did more than the quantities of ginger she’d swallowed on her way to Spain.

  “What was the point? There is no
relief I know of other than ginger. I tried it on the journey to Spain. Unfortunately I did not benefit from it.”

  “There are two cabins below — let me take you down to one of them.”

  She groaned when she forgot to keep her head still. “No, I hate to go below. It is so confining… claustrophobic… I will be better out here.”

  “You are already soaked to the skin and will catch your death of cold if you stay here,” he pleaded.

  “Then it will save me the humiliation of a public hanging, will it not?” She wasn’t sure whether she shivered from cold, or fear of the future.

  “Do not talk so, I will not have it!”

  His anger, as loud as the thunder clap roaring above them, seared her ears.

  “You will not hang. Dundas knows, as I do, you would not betray your husband.”

  “Perhaps.” She studied the frustration etched on his features. “But what about the other judges? What about society?” Her sickness forgotten, she swung back to face him. “Dumas told you before you left England, rumours are already rife. When we reach England you must leave me to make my own arrangements to reach London.”

  “Do not be so foolish. Unless I mistake the matter, our transport will be waiting for us when we reach Portsmouth.”

  “You mean I will be arrested immediately?”

  She no longer heeded the pitching of the boat. Images of stern-faced runners lined up at the harbour waiting for her stole her breath and had her head reeling. “I’m afraid, Charles.”

  Had Vidal heard her call out his Christian name while she fought through her mists of fear? And how could she think of anything other than the reality of the hangman’s rope tightening round her neck? And, why, oh why, had she even tried to reach home?

  * * * *

  When she fell asleep in his arms, Vidal carried Honor down to one of the cabins, covered her with a blanket, went in search of Consuela, and requested she sit with Honor while he made his way back to the captain of the yacht.

  “It is a grim night, to be sure,” the captain began when Vidal joined him at the wheel. “I misremember such a storm in a long time. Is the lady settled?”

  “She is.”

  “Not many folk stand up to my brother.” The gale failed to cover the sound of his chuckle. “When he recovered from his fury, he told me he’d never met such a spirited wench afore and to tell her he is sorry for his behaviour.”

  “I will pass on his message when she is better.”

  “Aye, I have some fine brandy that will bring her about afore we reach shore.” He trimmed a sail, adjusted the wheel, and sat on the side rail. “I’ve been informed there are some activities afoot in Bournemouth.”

  “Bournemouth? Were we not to put in at Portsmouth?”

  “Aye, it was the direction, but the place is seething with militia and you’d stand out the minute you stepped ashore. Bournemouth was my next choice but it is also overrun, so we are making for a cove a short way east of Portsmouth. It will add a couple of hours to our voyage, but will be safer for you,” the captain said.

  Used to directing his own life, Vidal waited for the rest of the information he was sure would come.

  “I have been asked to warn you gossip abounds about the lady.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the entry down to the cabins. “There are two people in particular who are more vocal… is that the right word?”

  Impatient for the full story, Vidal nodded. “How do you know this?”

  “I received le duc’s instructions many days ago. Since then I hear things. If I do not listen, that is when I may fall into a trap.”

  ”Go on. Do you have names?”

  “I was told you were given a letter while you were in France?”

  Letter? What letter? Then he remembered the one Jacques had given him. “What with everything going on I forgot about it.”

  Patting his pocket he almost ripped it off when he discovered the letter and dragged it free.

  “Take this,” the captain said, handing him a lantern, “and go below before you open the shutters. It is surprising how far a light shines in the darkness.”

  Vidal had the cabin to himself five minutes later, after thanking Consuela for sitting with Honor.

  He set the lantern on the small table by the bed, broke the seal, and read the tightly scrawled lines scribbled across one side of the page.

  Vidal, if you are reading this, then I have not completed my journey, and you travel on to the Channel without me. I told Lady Beaumont of her brother-in-law’s efforts to blacken her name and integrity. What I did not tell her was his cousin Lord Hepworth carried Cedric’s accusations to your Admiralty. There is one ensconced among that elite band of peers who is more of a traitor than I’ll ever admit to. Beware of this peer, for he is not without power and would inherit the estate if anything happened to Cedric.

  It is my belief this peer was responsible for Cedric escaping your Lord Dundas’s justice when you sailed for Gibraltar. Oh yes, I learned of this almost as soon as it occurred!

  Guard your lady well. But not so well you find yourself embroiled to the point of being accused and found guilty of accessory to aiding a felon in an act of treason. There are those who would lay that at your door in a trice, believe me.

  Guard your lady well and watch your back, my friend.

  GD

  Why hadn’t he listened when Juan offered the same warning a few days ago?

  He’d heard the accusations of how she’d played one of them against the other, and had failed to pay much attention to the old biddies gossiping about Honor dangling him and Devlin on a string. Had someone with influence resurrected those lies? If so, Dumas was right, and it behoved him to tread carefully.

  When he looked up he saw Juan standing in the doorway and handed the missive to him without a word.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “How much longer will Vidal be away?” Consuela dropped the latest fashion magazine on the nearby table and raised one hand. “Do not remind me I must call him ‘my lord’ when we travel to London, for I am sure I will never remember.”

  “Then I won’t do so,” Honor declared, amazed how quickly Consuela had tired of the novelty of living on an English estate. Nearly three weeks in the country had left the Spanish woman determined to enjoy every moment in London. “Would you care to ride out with me this morning?”

  The approaching tumble of grey clouds brought the expected shake of the Spaniard’s head. “It is too bad of Vidal. He drops us here in the middle of the countryside, only hours after arriving in England and then disappears off to London. I declare, if he does not return soon I will ask Juan to take me there.”

  “Living in luxury makes you impatient.” Honor grinned. “He did not share all his plans with me, but did mention he hopes to procure a house for us to rent.

  “His last communication stated he will arrange for us to travel to London before the end of November. Indeed I don’t know how he has contrived it, but he says the number of invitations for us to attend parties and balls and afternoon and morning calls is mounting up. He also said that he has acquired a couple of horses, although I distinctly remember him saying we’ll probably be the only two riders in the park because of the dismal weather.”

  “I thought society would frown upon two women living in a bachelor’s home?”

  “You are not attending to what I say. We will not be.” Honor laughed. “Vidal is renting a house for us, I forget where, but he did say that although many people are remaining in town for Christmas this year he thinks we will be comfortable there, as there is a small park opposite.”

  “I declare it sounds vastly exciting.”

  Preferring the countryside to the crush of a town Season, even at the end of the Little Season, Honor held her peace. The clock on the mantle chimed the hour. “Mrs. Lorimar will be here shortly for our final fittings. Shall we make our way upstairs?”

  A knock on the front door minutes later stopped the ladies from climbing beyond the s
econd stair.

  “Who do you suppose that could be? Vidal told me he would not spread news of our arrival abroad and thus spare us the necessity of entertaining callers.” Honor, her hand resting on the banister, looked at Consuela’s hopeful face. “Not Vidal, for why should he knock upon his own door?”

  Both women remained where they were and watched Henderson, the butler, cross the hall and open the door.

  Vidal’s mother! Who greeted Henderson with a bright smile, and easy manner.

  Now what had sent his mother out of town when Honor knew the woman detested the country?

  Honor retraced her steps by the time the newcomer had shed her hat and gloves and placed them along with a small bandbox on the granite table in the centre of the hall.

  “Your grace, what brings you here?”

  “You do, child.” The Duchess of Sitwell caught hold of Honor’s hands and studied her face before glancing towards the stairs. “And you are Consuela? My son has recounted the many incidents of your bravery in helping Honor to reach safety. You must tell me all about it sometime.”

  In accord the women headed for the morning room again.

  Honor’s cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “I don’t know what Vidal has been saying, but I am sure you are making more of it than you may, although he is in the right of it when he accords Consuela with distinction. Without her and Juan, I do not know what I would have done.” Her cheeks flamed when it struck her she’d slighted Vidal’s efforts to bring her home safely. “I mean… that is…”

  “On the contrary, my child.” Her grace ignored Honor’s stammering. “My son, while he has not given me the whole I am sure, has told me enough to know you must still suffer the after-effects of your tumble down the mountainside to mention just one of the trials you all experienced during your journey.”

  “To be sure I still experience some pain, but nothing I cannot cope with.”

  “You were always the same.” Her grace pulled Honor into a light embrace. “I was so sorry to learn about Devlin.”