by Kit Donner
Patience Grundy
His face pale, he felt the grave wound to his heart, greater than his mother’s betrayal and even more than his brother’s death. A few words had consigned him to a hell of his own making. This damnation seared the remembrance in his heart that it would always be a dark, interminable winter. He would never again know the warming light that once saved his soul in surrender or the healing cure of love. His once-treasured marriage license now burned swiftly among the greedy flames.
He threw himself into a nearby chair, trying to make sense of these latest events, knowing he had to put aside his emotions. But—something didn’t quite fit. Why had she signed herself “Patience Grundy”? She knew that he knew her real name to be Patience Mandeley.
Before he could think more on it, Keegan rose from his chair and retrieved the discarded piece of paper. He could only shake his head. It was obvious Bryce was in love with the girl and her treachery had been a terrible blow.
“What do we do now?” he asked Bryce, after silence had reigned for several minutes.
Bryce told his friend quietly and determinedly, “We find her. We find them.”
A gentle knock on the door broke the tension between the two friends. When Bryce granted permission, both men had to wait until Sally slowly swung open the door, and then remained standing in the doorway, looking lost and forlorn. Bryce beckoned her into the room, hoping this would not take long. His only thought was to find Patience.
She stared at the captain for a moment, before braving the storm and toddled over to Bryce, now sitting on the settee. She climbed into his lap, unaware of the swirling emotions filling the room like a blustery wind, and took Bryce’s chin in her little hand so that he would look at her.
“When is me Aunt Patience coming ’ome?” Her little voice was filled with anguish.
Bryce started, not ready to disappoint the child about yet another person in her young life deserting her. “Soon, I hope.”
Sally shook her head. “But ye sent her away. I heard ’er.”
Startled, he placed his big hands lightly on Sally’s thin arms and looked warmly on the child. “What did she tell you?” he asked, trying not to frighten the child with his anxiousness.
Sally stared solemnly into Bryce’s face. “She was crying this morning, all morning until the witch came.”
He sighed, knowing he would have to be patient to hear and fully understand what the child had to tell him. What was that part about the witch? “Did the witch make her cry?”
Sally shook her head, her little mouth in a frown, growing a little impatient with her newly christened uncle.
“No, she was cryin’ because ye gave ’er the necklace.” She paused thoughtfully. “If ye give me a present, will I ’ave to leave?”
“You will never have to leave here.” He hugged her little form tightly against his, offering the child his assurance. Patience had cried over the necklace, obviously not in joy, as he would have believed. He tried a different tact with the child. “Who is the witch?”
Sally’s blue eyes grew round as saucers. “She is the one who took Aunt Patience away. Will ye bring Aunt Patience back? Lem and Aunt Melenroy and me misses her.”
He patted her hand. “Yes, I’ll bring her back for all of you.” And for myself, he added silently.
Keegan cleared his throat. “We have other rather urgent things to discuss.”
Bryce ushered Sally out the door as Keegan stood to stretch his legs. Keegan said, “I think her note means that the invasion is happening quite soon. How long does it take to get to Winchelsea from here?”
Thoughtful, Bryce replied, “Probably close to eight hours. I shall have Lucky bring the carriage and the horses around, expediency is a must. If we start now, we might be able to catch up to them on the road to Winchelsea.” He headed for the door but stopped at Keegan’s next words.
“What makes you think the invasion is planned for Winchelsea? It could be anywhere along the southeast coast from Dover to Hastings.”
Bryce smiled thinly. “With a rash of spy activity lately in Winchelsea, I’ve a strong suspicion that is their point of landing. We shall go directly to the fencibles and seek their help.”
Keegan fell silent in agreement and followed his friend out the door.
A short while later waiting in the drawing room for their carriage to be brought around, Bryce and Keegan heard urgent voices at the front door, which then echoed in the vestibule.
They hurried down to the entryway to discover three men arguing with Stone, the butler insisting that “she is not here.”
Bryce walked over to Stone and the gentlemen dressed in country tweeds. “What is this business about? Who are they looking for?”
Stone answered, after the tall, thin man had stopped talking. “These gentlemen insist on seeing their sister, Miss Mandeley.
“Bryce didn’t know how many surprises he would need to endure this day. “You are Miss Mandeley’s brothers?”
Keegan stepped next to Bryce and sneered, “Why are you not with the spy, helping to plan the invasion?”
The tall, thin man introduced himself with a sneeze. “I am Baronet Louis Mandeley. Who are you calling a spy? And where is my sister?” He drew himself up in a huff.
Bryce raised his hand to forestall Keegan and an ensuing argument, a strange feeling sweeping over him. “What are you doing here?”
A smaller man in cleric frock broke into the conversation. “We have decided to fetch her home. Her letter said we would find her here.”
The gentleman who called himself the baronet looked at the cleric brother. “I told you this was all a mistake. Is Colette here? Perhaps she might offer some assistance.”
Bryce and Keegan started at the name. “No, why?” Bryce inquired.
“She accompanied Patience to Winchelsea to help her find our brother Rupert. I knew this was a bad idea when Patience suggested it. I should have stopped her. Now we have a sister and a brother missing,” the baronet stated dismally to his other brothers. He turned to Bryce. “Do you know where we might find her?” Louis asked hopefully.
Bryce flexed his shoulders. “No, but we believe we know where to start looking. We think she may have returned to Winchelsea with Colette this morning.”
Louis stared in astonishment at the earl. “But why would she return to Winchelsea?”
“That is exactly what I intend to find out,” he told Patience’s eldest brother. He grabbed his coat, hat, and cane from Stone, and headed out the door, followed by Kilkennen and the three brothers.
As he made his way down the front steps, Keegan kept trying to forget what he had just heard. He didn’t want to think what he was thinking. If Patience was innocent, as her brothers seemed to think she was, then the only person that could possibly be the spy was…Colette.
On the sidewalk, Louis caught Bryce’s arm. “Why the speed? Is Patience in some kind of trouble?”
Bryce measured the man with a hard glance. “Yes, I believe she may be in danger.”
The other brothers stepped forward. “We shall do our best to not be far behind.”
Bryce nodded curtly and stalked down the stairs where Lucky waited with the coach and horses.
They set off south for the coast, hoping to find the women safe and prevent an invasion, a tall order. Each man was lost in his thoughts, Keegan refusing to believe what had transpired in the past few minutes. One minute he is convincing Bryce that Miss Mandeley is the spy, the next, everyone is thinking but not saying that Colette is the culprit. But it couldn’t be. It simply couldn’t. After all, he was one and thirty. He knew women. He knew Colette couldn’t have the deaths of so many people on her hands. He knew her, didn’t he?
In the fast-moving, bumpy carriage, Bryce felt a huge burden lift. Although there were still some pieces missing, like the crumpled note in his pocket, he knew deep in his soul Patience was a true-blooded Englishwoman, incapable of harming anyone.
It had to be Colette. If he was right, h
e thought grimly, his blood running cold, Patience was indeed in serious danger. Where was she? He wouldn’t even consider the possibility that he wouldn’t make it in time.
Chapter 29
Patience leaned her head wearily against the hard wall of the coach. Every bumpy mile they traveled took her farther and farther from Bryce. If her heart wept tears of despair, she was determined not to show any sign of weakness. Colette and Patience had occupied the same space for over four hours, pausing only once to change horses.
Strangely enough, Colette appeared unwilling to discuss the kidnapping or what her plans were. The woman’s cold silence stilled Patience’s impulse to question her. After Colette had partaken of refreshment at the inn, she had sent one of her men out to the carriage to give Patience water and bread, which Patience choked down, realizing hunger would weaken her body, making escape harder.
She sighed dismally. Escape. Her chances looked bleak. Colette travelled with five men: two coachmen on top and three on horseback. All were French and spoke little English, hurrying to do Colette’s bidding. She commanded them easily with her poise of power and her threats of retribution for those who dared oppose her. And all the while, either she or one of her minions kept a pistol trained at Patience’s heart.
Somehow, someway, Patience would find a way to escape and return to Bryce. She still burned with the need to knock Bryce in the head for trying to dispose of her in a similar fashion to his old mistress. Since she had no idea where they were headed, she didn’t know much longer their journey would take. Her hopes and prayers rested on the belief that Bryce could be fast approaching.
The sun had long dimmed day into night when Colette nudged her awake. “We’re almost there.”
“Where?” Patience drew herself away from the carriage’s side, massaging her sore neck muscles resulting from her awkward sleeping position. She blinked and squinted into the darkness of the coach with only a shallow lamp for light, trying to read Colette’s face. She drew back at the poison that blazed from the woman’s cold eyes.
Patience had never seen such a look before on a woman’s face, and her blood ran colder than a December morn at the hate unveiled in Colette’s eyes. It reminded her of the enemy, known and unknown, and evil, like Jesus’ once-friend Judas. And of Sansouche. And of the dirty, cruel deeds men performed under the cover of darkness for greed, revenge, or for simply no reason at all. What were Colette’s dark secrets? And who had stolen her womanly nature and replaced it with merciless hatred?
“You think you’re innocent, but you’re not. None of the English are. Our noble leader will overcome your despicable English country and people, and you will all kneel at the superiority of French society,” Colette mocked.
“Why do you pursue this mission of destruction?” Patience felt a chill crawl up her spine. She needed to know these answers. Any information might help her situation.
Colette’s short smile did not reach her half-hidden eyes. She shrugged, as if realizing how little difference it would make in the end if her plans were known. Nothing could stop her. Perhaps she wanted someone to know her success, her final triumph.
“I am the Dark Angel. This is what has been planned for me since I was thirteen, when English soldiers attacked me on the road back from Town. They raped and bruised my body so much that for many months, I couldn’t speak of their heinous crime. I only wanted to die—until a man came to see me. He took me from my parents, assuring them that he would care for me, raise me well, and return my voice to me.” She hesitated, the only sign the story affected her emotions.
“The man kept his promise. In only a few months, he had found the key to unlock my voice. It was the word ‘vengeance.’ She smiled. “Revenge. He taught me, and three boys of similar age who had also lost their childhood, that we could be taught to use our bodies and our minds to best serve France. He pounded the word ‘vengeance’ into our heads, until it was branded on our souls. Until we slept dreaming of retribution, wielded a weapon with deadly force, and felt nothing, tasting only of the rewards of honor to come.”
Patience leaned slightly forward in fascination of Colette’s story, reminded of the cruelty of the world she had little experience with, until now.
“When we were old enough, we realized how little value our own lives held to our master. We were only his instrument of war. Our successes would please him, our punishment harsh if we failed. We learned quickly not to fail.”
A self-assured smile sprung to Colette’s lips, and Patience stared in awe at this transformation.
“I was the master’s best. He never thought I would be better than the boys, because you see I am only a woman. He had to only underestimate me once, before he learned his lesson. He still bears my scar on his face.”
But Colette’s story grew long, and Patience still had no idea what was happening to her. “What does all this have to do with me?” Her question almost brought Colette out of the past.
“For over a year, I’ve been playing a tune in the ear of a certain English spy, giving him just the right amount of information to convince him I was loyal to his country. We played a dangerous game—he would tell me something, I would tell him something. But we never knew what the truth was.” Her eyes lost their harsh look and turned slightly warm. “He was a most handsome man, Lord Londringham.”
Patience’s gasp turned Colette’s gaze on the woman across from her. “Yes, his lordship. Last November, I had decided he was too dangerous and had to be dealt with. Remember, I had been skillfully taught that killing for the right reasons alleviated remorse.” She scoffed, “We were to meet in our usual place. Sansouche had sent word to Kilkennen’s ship, for Lord Londringham. His brother, Edward, happened to be on board, and came in his place.”
Patience’s heart sounded like thunder in her ears, horrified as Bryce’s history unfolded, scarcely able to breathe in the enclosed carriage and fearful of what would come next.
Colette shrugged indifferently. “I had to kill him. He was in my way. I even waited for Londringham to show up to claim his brother, but his lordship and his men escaped our French bullets, except for the one to his leg.”
Patience found her voice, shaky though it was. “You…you killed Bryce’s brother?”
Colette looked at her with disappointment. “Have you not heard anything I have said? The innocent are sometimes hurt in war. No one is safe. My only regret is that Londringham did not die on our French shores. Still, here or there, he cannot stop this.”
Patience clenched her hands at her side, ever aware of the pistol unwavering in Colette’s hands. She almost leapt from her seat to attack the Frenchwoman, but knew she would be dead before her hands had touched the spy’s throat. How could anyone that had caused so much pain talk so cavalierly about her actions?
This woman was the Devil’s wife. She had been stripped of her humanity and only the shell of wickedness kept her alive.
“The master sent Sansouche and I to England. We were to pay well any Englishmen willing to sell your country’s secrets, such as Lord Peter Carstairs.”
Patience raised her eyebrows at this turn of events. “You killed our cousin?”
“Non, Sansouche had to kill him because although he had given us vital information on the barracks and fencibles governing the coast from Dover to Hastings, Carstairs became terribly greedy and had outlasted his purpose. Fortunately, your brother played right into our hands, a good piece of luck. He happened to find his cousin’s cold body after Sansouche had killed him. With the constable and his men searching for Rupert Mandeley as a murderer and traitor, we were left to pursue our strategy.”
Colette glanced out the window, then returned to her story. “When I saw you in Storrington on our way to Winchelsea, with our similar traits, I thought you might come in handy. We became…friends, and while you sought a position with the earl, I already had a position as a lady’s maid with the help of the countess and her cousin, Sansouche. His lordship never suspected I am the Dark Angel because
he was still too consumed with grief over his brother’s death, and I made a concerted effort to stay out of his way.”
She sent Patience daggered looks. “You, my dear, kept getting in the way. Insisting Bryce was the spy and not Carstairs. At a midnight rendezvous, I tried to kill Bryce but someone was watching us and interfered. You had Mr. Gibbs fired, another man of mine, and then Sansouche followed you like a female dog in heat, causing him to become careless. However, despite your untimely interventions, all our plans were coming together, especially when your brother was arrested. We left for London to meet with the rest of our men to finalize the details for our invasion.”
Patience reclined slightly in her seat, and certainly with more bravado than she felt, said, “As soon as Bryce and Keegan find your note, they will be after us. They will stop you.”
If Patience thought her words would put a scare into this mad woman bent on destroying England, she was sorely disappointed and vaguely surprised to hear Colette peal off a laugh.
“My poor girl, with your note, you’ve destroyed Lord Londringham’s hopes. You’ve broken his heart, and I can assure you he’ll have no interest in finding you.”
Patience felt the blood slowly drain from her face. She didn’t think she could bleed any more from the sharp thrusts to her heart than she had already in the past several hours. She then actually did contemplate assaulting Colette. Perhaps she had no way of winning, but death seemed almost welcome at the moment. Her death.
“Bryce will find me, and he will stop you. He will save England from this invasion, of that I have no doubt.”
“There you are wrong. He won’t find you and our plans for the invasion will proceed accordingly.”
Patience had one more question for the madwoman. “Why did you kill Sansouche?”
Colette snorted. “It was a beauty of a plan that came to me after he attacked you in the Gardens. I knocked him on the head, so he wouldn’t hurt you. You were too valuable to me. I decided to kill him and send you a note. You were to be there when the Runners discovered his dead body. They would have accused you of his murder.”