A Whisper Of Destiny

by Monica Barrie

  “A problem?” he asked, keeping his voice low as soon as he spotted Sean.

  “The boat I was to take can’t make it in this weather,” Sean replied.

  “You want to use the Wasp?” asked the captain, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “No. When I leave tomorrow, I will have some dispatches for you. You are to hold them until the time that we had set for our original rendezvous. If I have not returned from England by then, you must leave. Nothing must prevent this information from reaching the president.”

  “A day or two can’t possibly matter,” argued the captain.

  Sean shook his head. “It must be done as I’ve said. If I am not at the meeting point at the arranged time, return home!” His voice was liked a coiled whip, and the captain knew better than to make further objections.

  “Yes, sir. But we will wait until the last minute.”

  “Thank you.” Sean grasped the man’s hand in his own, then left the inn to return to his own room. He was already concocting a contingency plan. He knew the impossible odds against his making the rendezvous—and they were much worse than those in the backgammon game he’d played with Lafitte. But their consequences were equally serious.

  CHAPTER 23

  “It was lovely, Lady Charlotte.” Saying this, the raven-haired woman beamed at her hostess, then smiled radiantly at her escort. “I’m so glad you invited us.”

  “It was our pleasure, Francine. It’s been such a long time since we’ve seen Albert in company as charming as yours.” Lord Albert Ramsbotham nodded, acknowledging the compliment for his mistress as he placed the cape on her shoulders and smiled warmly at the Duke and Duchess of Carmody.

  Since Francine’s arrival in London, everything had gone exceptionally well. Albert had been a dear, a gentleman of the caliber she rarely encountered in her travels. He had not taken advantage of his situation, as had others in her past, but had given her a separate bedroom adjoining his. Although they never slept together, the only person in London— including all of Lord Albert’s friends and servants—who knew of this arrangement was Ian, Sean’s valet.

  Francine had already gathered a tremendous amount of information concerning James Cornwall and his shipping company. She had also learned the name and complements of almost all the British war ships in American waters. Now, she had only to await Sean’s message and transfer the information to him. Then she would be free to leave England and return to Annapolis for a well-earned rest.

  Perhaps, she thought, she would go to Charlottesville and visit her mother’s home for a while. Several weeks in Virginia always seemed to refresh her.

  “Francine, you will join me for tea tomorrow?” asked Lady Charlotte, the Duchess of Carmody.

  “It would be my pleasure,” replied Francine, looking over at Albert for his consent. This was a prearranged signal between them so that a refusal could be couched in a look and both would understand.

  Albert smiled.

  “I’ll be tied up all afternoon—meetings with the minister— but naturally Francine will come on her own,” he said by way of approval.

  “Wonderful!” commented Lady Charlotte. “I do so want you to meet my sister.” With that, the four bid each other goodnight and each couple went to a separate carriage at the front of the theater.

  Ian, acting as Lord Albert’s footman, opened the door and assisted first Francine and then the elderly lord into the carriage. As it began to move, Ian bent down and placed his head near the open window.

  “There’s a messenger awaiting you at the house,” he said to Francine.

  “Who is he, where is he from?” Francine asked, somewhat concerned.

  “The Jew,” replied the valet, as he pulled his head back and assumed his position.

  “This is a strange way of dealing with messages,” commented Albert. He stared at her, as he often had in these past weeks. It was an open stare—not a stare of lust, but of admiration for her beauty and strength. Albert Ramsbotham had never met a woman quite like Francine Rouger, and he was fascinated with her. Neither of his two wives had ever shown the courage to be so independent or to hold ideals above material things. He silently reminded himself to keep control over his emotions. He was too old to make this woman a good husband.

  Until her arrival, he had been a bored old man who had become an American sympathizer, mostly to occupy his time and energies. It was as simple as that, and he was honest enough with himself to be able to admit it. But he had gotten caught up in American ideology and the Americans’ far-reaching plans for their country’s future. He liked Adams and Jefferson. Madison, the country’s newest president, had been a house guest of his years ago.

  This new view of life had made him feel younger than his sixty-five years. Now Francine Rouger made him dream of his youth and his almost forgotten need for love.

  “Sean should be arranging a meeting shortly, if he has been able to complete his part of the plan,” said Francine, interrupting Albert’s train of thought. He sat straighter in the jolting carriage. Her comment reminded him that their liaison would soon be over.

  “You are ready for him?”

  “Thanks to you, Albert. You’ve made my job so much easier.”

  “It was a pleasure.” Francine looked closely at him. His tone carried a deeper meaning than his words, but Francine could not be certain of what she thought she detected in his voice.

  When they arrived at the house they went immediately to his study where the messenger waited. He stood up as they entered the room and inclined his head toward them.

  “It is dangerous to come here,” said Francine without bothering to greet him.

  “If I had a choice,” the man shrugged, “I would have waited until morning and delivered something to you.” Francine bit her lip, reprimanding herself for being curt to him. He and his people were helping them and that was more than had been expected.

  “I’m sorry.” The messenger silently acknowledged her apology. “The message?”

  “I have word that you are to meet your man tomorrow night at the Inn of the Giant Elm, near Farnham.”

  “So soon?” Lord Albert cut in.

  “There has been a problem. A woman he is trying to take to safety is being held at an estate in Farnham. She is in a great deal of danger.” Francine stood transfixed, unable to believe that Sean was not following through with his mission.

  “Do you have any other information?”

  “Yes. This woman, an American, is being held at the estate of Lord Stephan Cornwall. We have been asked to find out as much as we can about her captivity.” Francine was somewhat relieved, since it was evidence that Sean was using the mission in France to help him with his fight against the Cornwalls. She was puzzled about the girl, but knew that she would find out soon enough.

  “Albert, how long is the ride to Farnham?”

  “A full day, if we leave at dawn,” he said. “If we must,” he added in a troubled voice.

  “Thank you,” Francine said to the messenger, who had never given her his name. At their only other meeting, he had told her he preferred it that way and she had not argued with him. “I assume your fee will be taken care of?”

  “It was, two nights ago in France,” he said simply.

  “In France?” cut in Lord Albert sharply. Although he was an American sympathizer, he was not a lover of the French. He had fought them too often in business and in war.

  “Lord Albert,” the man explained, “my loyalty to England is as strong as yours. And although you help the Americans, I know that you are true to the Crown.” Somewhat taken aback by the man’s words, Albert Ramsbotham nodded his head slowly.

  When the messenger had departed, Francine and Lord Albert discussed what they must do. Lord Albert then summoned his butler and requested that a carriage be ready by first light with a basket of food for their lunch. As far as he understood it, Lord Albert and his lady would be going on a picnic in the country. The only change that would be made in the usual procedu
re was that Ian—not Lord Albert’s regular driver—would be at the reins of the carriage.

  When Ian had been instructed as to the next day’s plans and had gone to pack his case, Albert and Francine went upstairs to retire for the night. When they reached his room, he held the door for her and she walked in. Instead of going to her own room whose entrance was through his, she turned to him. The look on his face told her she had correctly read the meaning in his voice when he had spoken to her earlier.

  “Why haven’t you told me before?” she asked.

  “Told you?”

  “Your feelings. I became aware of them only tonight.”

  Lord Albert sighed. “Francine, I admire you more than any other woman I’ve known, but my feelings are those of an old man, not a young, virile one who could pay you court.” Emotion filled his voice and he had to fight to bring himself under control.

  “I am grateful to you, Albert, for your gallantry and your care. It is rare that a man would admit such a thing and have the courage to face the woman.”

  “When you reach my age, there is nothing to fear. You have given me much pleasure by your company.” This time, Francine blushed. Lord Albert’s words reached deep inside her, making her feel wanted and needed for the first time in years. She started to speak, but Albert stopped her.

  “No, let me continue,” he insisted. “When your job is completed, I would like you to think about…if you want to…coming back here to be my wife. Having you near me makes me happy, and when I’m gone you will have everything that was mine.” When Albert Ramsbotham finished speaking, he looked at Francine gently. There were no demands in his voice or on his face. He had simply stated his case. Francine knew her future could be secured if she agreed, and knew any life with him would be warm and protected. His voice and words made tears well in her eyes.

  But she could not answer him. She was held back by the thoughts of a man she had buried in her mind because she knew what she was and how hopeless her feelings were. Now all she could see were his blue eyes and blond hair. The vision of Robert Chatham gazed directly at her and then smiled.

  “Albert, I…” Her tears fell unashamedly and she moved to him to put her arms around him. She felt his frail body against hers as she pressed her lips against his cheek. “Thank you, Albert, but my home is in America and that is where I want to live.”

  He smiled at her and grasped her hand, holding it tightly as he looked into her eyes. “If ever you change your mind, I will be waiting. Now, off to bed. We must rise early.”

  Francine smiled warmly at him as she left his room and entered her own.

  <><><>

  Kira waited two more nights, planning meticulously and mapping out her route. Tomorrow she would attempt her escape.

  Although Kira had not given up all hope of Sean, she decided she could not take the chance that he might not arrive. Now it was up to her.

  Traveling only at night, she would journey from Farnham to Portsmouth, staying parallel to the main road. By foot, it should take her three days, four at most. With a little luck, she might even find a mount by bartering some of her jewelry. The rest of her jewelry, which James Cornwall had been foolish enough to let her take with her to England, would be sold at Portsmouth for passage to one of the Caribbean Islands and from there to home. Tomorrow she would sneak into the kitchen to steal as much food as possible for her journey.

  “Are y’ ready ta dress fer dinner, Mum?” asked Polly. Pleading illness, Kira had eaten her dinner in her room the previous night so as to give herself more time to plan.

  “I’ll wear the cerise tonight, I think.”

  “Master William’s ill,” Polly informed her.

  “One of his headaches?”

  “Yes, Mum,” she replied.

  “Will he be joining us for dinner?” she asked the girl.

  “I’m not sure, Mum,” Polly said, shrugging her shoulders. “Even Lord Cornwall hasn’t returned from town yet, so dinner will probably be late.”

  Kira really didn’t care if Stephan were at dinner or not. She was no longer impressed with his humility, which now seemed more self-serving than real. She had watched his character emerge until she was able to peer through the curtains he had drawn around himself. He was more like Uncle James than she had first thought. And the dinners at which her presence was “not required” were becoming more frequent, as if he were afraid she might know one of the guests or create a scene.

  “Are you ready to go down, Mum?” asked Polly, after putting the finishing touches on her hair. Kira nodded, turning to walk from the room. As she passed the large chairs in the sitting room, a slight smile crossed her face. The candlelight glittered off the metal scabbard of one of William’s rapiers, the one with which she had been practicing and the one she had talked him into lending her.

  “You look ravishing, my dear,” remarked Stephan Cornwall when she reached the bottom landing. His hand went to his mustache and the back of his fingers did their little trick. Then he grasped one end of the mustache between thumb and forefinger, as if he were deep in thought. “But I’m afraid that we will have to be disappointed in your company tonight. I am having a dear friend in for dinner and must request that you return to your room.”

  Kira smiled placidly and fought down her flare of temper. It was too near her escape to start fighting and make him more aware of her than was necessary.

  “Of course, Stephan, I understand.” Turning, she walked up the stairs, leaving an amazed Stephan Cornwall to comprehend the capriciousness of women. When Kira was halfway up the stairs, the front door opened and Charles, the butler, announced the company.

  “Lord Ramsbotham and Madam Francine Adair are arrived, m’lord,” he said. Then, as Kira reached the top of the stairs and the hallway, she caught just a fleeting glimpse of the couple. Lord Ramsbotham was a shortish white-haired man, at least twenty years older than Stephan, but of the woman all she saw was a full head of raven hair and a long cloak trimmed in a white fur. Something about the woman seemed familiar. Kira tried to recapture the elusive memory, but she could not. Just then, Stephan Cornwall glanced up at Kira and she quickly moved into the hallway and to her room.

  Kira threw her door open angrily and marched into her room. “Damn them!”

  “Mum?” called Polly from the boudoir. Kira turned quickly to see the girl standing near the closet, wearing one of Kira’s dresses.

  “Polly…what…” she stammered, as surprised as the girl, who now stood frozen and afraid to move.

  “I’m sorry, Mum, but I just couldn’t help myself. This dress is so beautiful.” Kira came toward the servant, critically eyeing the ill fit of the dress on the buxom Polly. It was the pale-blue silk dress she had worn to the first tea with Angela Cornwall.

  “There, Polly, that’s all right,” she assured the nervous girl. “There’s no harm done. As a matter of fact, I’d like you to keep the dress.” When she left, she would not be able to take much with her, and she knew how much this would please Polly. “But,” she advised the wide-eyed girl, “You’d better have a few alterations done.” She gestured at the bodice.

  “Oh, Mum…thank you,” said the girl, as she let her hands run along her sides, feeling the silk as it passed gently beneath the palms of her hands. Her eyes shone with gratitude. And Kira knew that Polly had never owned a garment anywhere near as grand, nor was it likely she would have occasion to wear it without seeming out of place. But Kira did not mention this, not wanting to spoil the moment for her.

  “Polly, I’ve been banished from the dining room again. Would you see about some dinner for me?” The girl gave her a glowing smile as she curtsied and then started out.

  “Polly,” Kira called.

  “Yes, Mum?”

  “The dress… I think you’d better change,” she said laughing. The laugh was joined good-naturedly by Polly, who quickly started to change.

  “Polly,” called Kira again, as the young woman was getting into her regular uniform, “would you
do me a favor?”

  “Of course, Mum.”

  “I’m piqued,” she admitted, purposely hesitating before explaining. “I was told not to come for dinner because Lord Cornwall was having unexpected guests. When I was coming upstairs I saw them, and I think I might know the woman. Could you find out who she is for me?”

  “I’ll try,” shrugged Polly. Her tone was doubtful. “But the Lord and the Lady are strange. They don’t like the servants nosin’ about their company.”

  <><><>

  “You will stay the night, won’t you?” inquired Stephan Cornwall. He and Albert Ramsbotham were sharing a drink in his study.

  “Thank you, Stephan, but no, Francine and I will return to the inn. We must be there, as a business associate of mine will be arriving early in the morning.”

  “I understand,” replied Stephan. “Well, if he stays longer than a day, please return here. It will be much more comfortable than that old inn.”

  “Thank you, Stephan. We may take you up on your kind offer.”

  “More sherry?” he inquired.

  “No, thank you,” replied Ramsbotham, finishing the glass in his hand. “You have another house guest? I happened to see that delightful creature running up the stairs.”

  “Why, yes,” said Cornwall smoothly. “The niece of my first cousin. She’s been terribly ill; her father died and she’s been grief stricken. I thought she was making progress, but when she heard we were having company, she fled.” Stephan Cornwall shook his head sadly. “Really unfortunate, you know.”

  “Terrible,” concurred Ramsbotham. “At first I thought you were keeping a young mistress.”

  Cornwall threw back his head and laughed. “With Angela here?”

  “Of course. How foolish of me,” smiled Ramsbotham.

  “But do tell me about this beautiful woman of yours,” Cornwall insisted. “It’s been all the talk of London, you know.”

  “Marvelous, isn’t she?” Lord Albert replied happily. “I met her last year when I was in Dover. She’s the relative of a close friend. You know the Whileshires, don’t you?” Ramsbotham waited for Cornwall’s assent before he continued his fabrication.