by Carie, Jamie
At the end of the poem, Shakespeare bet his entire body of work on his statement of love. And then there was the elegant simplicity of the words themselves. Unassuming words put together in such a way as to state humankind's most complex commission—love. Had Alexandria seen that? That she might have and had thought to have such a love with him flooded his body and mind with warmth and joy. He closed his eyes and let the feeling fill him.
Could one really fall in love through a few letters?
He folded them as if they were made from spun gold and put them into his pocket. He placed the book back on the shelf and walked back to the room's only window, staring out at the rolling countryside. If only she hadn't run off he could have shown her how much he cared, how he only wanted to take care of her and make her life happy. He looked around at the shabby room and curled his hand into a fist.
She deserved better.
Who were these parents who left their only child alone in such a dilapidated home? The tide of anger he felt when he thought of them washed over him again. How dare they leave her here as if she meant nothing to them. What kind of parents could do that?
Meade suddenly appeared at the entrance. Gabriel had sent him to the village to question the inhabitants about Alexandria's whereabouts. Hair askew and cheeks red, he looked as if he'd been running all the way back to the castle.
"Well? Did you find out anything?" Gabriel beckoned him into the room.
"She stopped at the market house just before leaving and posted a letter. The shopkeeper said it was addressed to you, Your Grace. That's the last time they saw her. No one knows where she went when she left the island. They thought she was just going into Beal for something. She often went there to visit or help someone in need, I'm told. And it wasn't unheard of for her to stay several days. No one thought to question her whereabouts until she'd been gone some time, and then her servants would only say what they told us—that she's gone on an exploring trip."
"Rubbish." Gabriel paced back to the window and stroked his chin in thought. "They know more than they will tell us."
"With all the whispering they do, I would have to agree."
Gabriel could tell that Meade said the words louder since he was facing away from him. He turned back toward his secretary. "I will question them again. Ask them to meet me in the great room. I'll beg if I have to."
"Yes, Your Grace." Meade gave him a quick bow and turned to fetch the servants.
The thought of going back to Beal and telling the captain that the Lady Featherstone was missing was not pleasant. The captain would go straight to the prince regent and the regent must not know that his prize had already gone missing. The prince regent would be furious with all of them, including Alexandria, when he learned she had run off by herself, tricking a duke for money. He had to protect her from the prince regent and this little army with which he was currently riddled. He would have to get rid of the army to search for her. He would be the one to find her and bring her back safe and sound.
Who knew being a guardian would be so much trouble?
But he couldn't deny that it was a wonderful sort of trouble. The emotions he felt as he imagined finally finding her, seeing her, holding her in his arms—God help me—it made his heart pound in an odd way and his body flush with heat as if he'd been standing next to a roaring fire. He needed to get ahold of himself.
A few minutes later he entered the great room relieved to see Ann and Henry sitting in chairs by the fire. He pulled up another chair and sat across from them. Ann had an obstinate fold to her lips and Henry wouldn't look him directly in the eyes.
"Ann, Henry, I understand that you are trying to protect her, but I have a story to tell you. It's a great secret told to me by one of the prince regent's men, and I wouldn't tell it to you if I didn't know from experience how good you both are at keeping important secrets."
Henry flashed a disgusted look at him. "You'll not be tricking us into saying somethin' so save your secrets, Duke."
Gabriel acknowledged the threat with a nod and smoothed back his smile. What he wouldn't give to have the old man working for him. He'd not seen such loyalty since his navy days. "Regardless, I will tell you." He proceeded to tell them about the missing manuscript that Lord and Lady Featherstone had been hired to find. And he told of his guardianship and how the prince regent had given him the task of keeping her safe.
"So you see, Alexandria is in great danger. If she has gone off alone and unprotected, I fear for her life." He let the words sink in a moment, noting the softening of both their faces. "If there is anything . . . anything at all that you know . . . I beg you to tell me. I can't protect her if I can't find her."
The silence thickened in the room. Gabriel waited, watching them by turns, seeing their internal debate. Finally Henry looked at Ann and murmured, "I didn't want her going off alone anyway. Told her it was a fool thing to do."
"She had the coachman," Ann hissed. "When have you known her not to have a plan? She's always been able to take care of herself."
"She ain't had enemies before. Not real ones, anyway. We need to tell him what we know."
Ann gave a great sigh and looked at Gabriel. "It ain't much but she hired a coach to Whitehaven."
Whitehaven. A seaport town. "To leave England?" Gabriel felt a shifting of panic. Had she really left the country?
"She had a letter from her mother . . . last one she ever got from her. It was from Ireland. We figured that's where she'll start her search."
"Her search?"
Henry's voice was full of pride. "For her parents, of course. The girl never believed them dead. She said she'd feel it if it was true."
Gabriel reached up and covered his eyes with one hand. He should have known. He should have read between the lines of her letters and guessed. She'd been redirecting his attention to the state of the castle, fleecing him for funds, not for repairs, but to hie off to Ireland of all places! He had underestimated her. Clever minx. Clever and determined. All she cared about was finding her parents.
Not that he really blamed her—it's exactly what he would have done. He even admired her for it. But the fact that she might be right, that they might be alive, and if they were alive then they were undoubtedly in very real trouble . . . trouble his ward seemed determined to place herself in the middle of, made him groan aloud. Stubborn, impetuous girl! If she had only asked for his help. But she didn't know him. She didn't know about the inexplicable place in his heart she'd already carved out. Now he would have to track her all the way to Ireland.
"Do you happen to know where, exactly, in Ireland? It is a rather large place."
They both shook their heads. Of course not. She wouldn't make it that easy.
"Meade, find this coach she hired and the identity of the driver. He should be of some help."
"That would be Mr. Howard from Beal. He's the only one with a coach in these parts," Henry said.
"Very well, find Mr. Howard if he has returned." Gabriel rose, impatience humming through his veins. "Thank you for confiding in me, Ann." He nodded to the old woman. "Henry." Another nod in his direction. "Meade will send you a letter when I find her. In the meantime, I give you this." He took out a pouch and dropped it onto the chair with a heavy clink. "Lady Alexandria did not overly exaggerate your need to have this place repaired. I'll send more when I'm able but at least stock the larder and get the leaky roof patched. You might have someone work on the sheep shed; it's bound to cave in soon."
Ann stood and stretched out her neck toward him, her old eyes intent. "You said you aim to protect her and I want you to keep your promise, Duke. You take care of that girl." To Gabriel's astonishment, her lips began to quiver. "She ain't had much in this life what with her parents gallivanting all over the world and hardly noticing her and what with all the responsibility she's had . . . but she's a rare soul, she is, and I'll
not have the likes of a fancy duke swooping in and changing her. You promise me you'll protect her precious spirit, not just her life. Don't take her off into your world and let them change her and make her believe she's less than she is." Her voice fairly shook as her meaning, her real concern, hit him in the stomach like a punch. "Protect the real her, you promise me."
And suddenly he knew exactly what she meant. It was why Alexandria's letters had come to mean so much. It was how he knew for certain that she was different from anyone he'd ever met. That quality she had, that generous spirit that was so full of joy and laughter, a beautiful soul. "I promise."
Ann must have seen his seriousness because her lips curved up into a thin smile. "I've been praying for you to come." She said it quietly, but Gabriel read her lips. With a pounding heart he bowed toward her, grasped the side of Henry's frail arm, and then turned to go.
It was shocking how life could change so suddenly.
Chapter Sixteen
The road from Belfast to Killyleagh was in good condition, making for a comfortable carriage ride. Well, for Montague and her, Alex revised, looking over at Baylor hunched in the middle of the seat across from them. He had to slouch down to keep his head from touching the roof and upon occasion he would grow tired of the cramped space and demand to walk alongside the carriage in the open air for a while. Poor giant. But he took it as a natural occurrence so he must be used to it.
Montague, as usual, hadn't said much, just pulled his hat low over his eyes and promptly fell asleep, softly snoring beside her. How she had ended up with two such champions she still couldn't quite figure out, but she was excited to be following their first real clue. Someone at the castle must have spoken with her parents.
A little while later, they rolled into Killyleagh. It was a pretty little town situated on the blue waters of Strangford Lough, a sea lough dotted with islands and rocky outcroppings. The thatched cottages that lined the main road were painted green and yellow and a soft blue. Alex leaned her nose against the window, a smile spreading across her face as the silhouette of the castle came into view. It looked like it had come straight from a fairy tale with tall towers and round turrets. It was built from gray and tan stone that gleamed with a bluish purple color in the afternoon light. The facade brought to mind medieval knights and ladies with brightly colored conical hats.
"Oh, Baylor, isn't it grand?"
Baylor leaned down toward the window and peered out. "That it is, lass. That it is."
As they neared it, Alex saw the rock wall surrounding it and the gatehouse with an iron gate. "We have to visit the castle to look for clues. Do you think they'll let us inside?" She hadn't thought about the gatehouse and soldiers who might be guarding the place.
"Once you flash your bonny smile at them, they're sure to let us by." Baylor grinned. Montague sat up and joined them looking out the window. "We should stop at the inn first and find out about the owners."
"And get some supper." Baylor patted his round stomach. "I could eat a sheep with the wool still on, I'm so hungry."
Alex laughed. "It's a good plan. Let's find out the situation before we approach the gate. And my parents must have stayed in the town. I can question the innkeeper."
The carriage continued up a long hill and then stopped in front of the Dufferin Coaching Inn.
It was a pretty building, painted a pale blue with stone on the bottom half. They entered to find a neat sitting room and off to one side a long dining room where groups of tables and chairs sat mostly empty this time of day. A woman with a wide apron and a friendly smile came from the dining room, a platter in her hands.
"Well hello, there," she greeted them. "You've just arrived on the coach then, I see. Wouldn't you like to freshen up and have some tea? I have fresh barmbrack just from the oven."
"Thank you, ma'am. We'll be needing beds for the night too," Alex ventured. She hoped Baylor and Montague could share a room even though Baylor was so huge. She needed to watch her spending and she'd insisted on paying their way as long as they were helping her. If only the duke would send her more money. The thought of him arriving on Holy Island and finding her gone made her stomach drop. What would Henry and Ann tell him? And what would he do next? There was no way to get his letters now. Henry and Ann didn't know where in Ireland she'd gone. She hadn't been able to risk it, even knowing how tight-lipped and loyal the two were.
Well, it couldn't be helped. She needed Baylor and Montague and had to trust that God would help her coins stretch. He'd done it with the loaves and the fishes and so many times when needs were too great for her allowance on Holy Island. She was sure He would make a way this time too.
"There's plenty of room, dearie. Just go on in to the dinin' room there and have a seat by the fire. I'll bring some cider and barmbrack for your men there."
"Thank you."
Alex led the way toward the dining room, stepped one foot inside, and then stopped cold. There, sitting with his head bent over a book of some kind, was the Spaniard and he wasn't alone. Had he followed them here, or had he come before them for clues of his own?
Alex backed up, motioning for Baylor and Montague to back quickly away too. The three of them hugged the corner of the room, just outside the door to the dining room.
"What is it?" Baylor asked, trying to whisper but still too loud.
"Shhh." Alex warned. "It's him. The Spanish man who was following us, and this time there are two of them."
"It cannot be," Montague intoned and then stealthily crept to the doorway and glanced in. "It is him."
Alex motioned him away from the door. "They have to be after the same thing we are looking for. It's the only explanation."
"What are we looking for? I thought your parents," Baylor whispered.
"Yes, of course. But my parents were hired to find something important. I don't know yet what they were searching for, but it must have been very valuable. These men must be looking for it and following us to see if we find the clues first."
Baylor and Montague exchanged glances. "We need to turn the tables on them, spy on them for a change. But they'll recognize us; they know our faces."
"We could make a disguise," Alex suggested. "Montague, if you shaved off that mustache and beard and we powdered your hair—"
"No." His answer was immediate and definite.
Alex looked up at Baylor. Impossible to disguise his size. She had an image come to mind of him dressed as a woman, which made her press her lips together to keep from laughing. "I can't imagine any disguise working on you."
Baylor shrugged.
Montague turned toward her. "You're the only one who could do it and quickly enough to get in there right now."
"But how?" Alex looked around the room, seeing tablecloths and lace doilies. What could she do with them?
"We'll dress you as a man. I've an extra pair of breeches and boots in my bag. They'll be too big, but with some rope tied around your waist to hold them up and a hat to cover your hair . . . we could use some soot from the fireplace for a little shadowing around your beard."
"My beard?" Alex nearly choked between shock and laughter. "Do you really think it will work? We have to hurry!"
Montague laid his bag onto the floor and dug through it. He tossed articles of clothing at her until there was a pile around her feet. "But where will I change? The serving woman could come back at any moment!"
"Baylor, quick, take off your cloak and make a screen here in the corner. Alexandria, we'll turn our backs but hurry."
Baylor made the screen and Alex scurried into the borrowed clothing, stuffing her skirt into Montague's bag. By the time she was finished, Montague had come back from the fireplace with dark smudged fingers. "Here now, hold still."
The smell of ashes burnt her nose as he tapped the blackness against her upper lip and chin. She stood mute, with li
ps together in a half panic. "What if they recognize me!"
"We'll be right here, should you need us." Montague assured her.
Baylor leaned down and gave her a broad grin that took up his entire face. He patted her cheek with a quiet chuckle. "Ach, but you're a pretty lad. Never fear. They'll think you too young to have much sense yet."
"He's right. Sit close enough to hear them but with your back turned toward them."
"What about the serving woman? She's sure to recognize me and wonder where you two are!"
"We'll take care of her. Now go." Montague turned her by the shoulders toward the door to the dining room.
Alex took a deep breath and steadied her nerves. She could do this. Just keep her head down and her back to the Spaniards as much as possible. When her feet didn't move, Baylor nudged her into the room.
The scuffle of her overly large boots brought the gaze of everyone to her face. There was one other couple having what looked to be a light repast and a serious conversation. Alex looked at them with a polite nod in their direction and then made for the table by the fire. She glanced at the men, one tall and skinny with a thin mustache and line of a beard; the other one, the one she hadn't seen before was his opposite, short with a round stomach, black hair, and a chubby-cheeked face.
The short one looked up. Alex hurriedly looked at the floor, sidestepped around a table, and went to the fire as if to warm herself. A glance at them gave her a sigh of relief. They were pouring over the book again. She slowly made her way to the table beside them and sat down, her back to the Spaniards. They didn't look up from their book, they were so intent on it.
"The answers must be in here," the tall, bony man hissed.
"I am a slow reader, my liege." His voice was high and full of fear.