Angelina's Secret

by Diane Merill Wigginton

  “No offense taken, Captain,” I sweetly replied, hoping that I looked appropriately offended. “May I?” I asked holding up the coat.

  “Of course, please.” He begrudgingly replied, turning his back to stare out at the water.

  Taking the small dagger I had palmed in my hand before handing the coat to Alcott, I carefully slipped it into the side pocket of Jude’s coat.

  “Gentlemen if you don’t mind, I would like just one more moment with my husband to say farewell properly before you walk him across the gang plank,” I said with more confidence than I was feeling.

  Placing the coat across Jude’s arm then cupping his face between my hands. “Please be careful with the coat. Anna didn’t get a chance to sew that button back on, so be sure you don’t lose it.” Standing on tiptoes, I winked then kissed his lips.

  Wrapping his arms around me, Jude lifted me off the ground then whispered in my ear. “You are a stubborn, determined woman and never cease to surprise and amaze me.”

  “I will always love you. Keep your promise and come back to me,” I whispered as lovers do. “Now go before I lose my nerve and start blubbering like a woman,” I said, taking a last look at his face, memorizing everything about it. Closing my eyes, I sent a prayer up to heaven, hoping that my prayers would be heard. But more than that, I desperately needed them answered.

  I could hear their footsteps going across the gangplank and I swallowed the sudden feeling of despair threatening to overcome my resolve.

  I swallowed hard again as bile rushed up into my throat. I gulped air to keep from dissolving into a puddle of tears when I heard the gangplank removed and the ropes untied. Honore helped Genevieve down the steps from the upper deck, her face ashen and tear streaked.

  I turned as the English crew got the sails fully up and the HRH Marston pulled away from us. Jude and his father were standing on the deck flanked by guards shackling his legs and hands. The thought that I could not bear to continue watching kept running through my head, but I simply held on to the railing for support. My legs felt like sand when the water rushes the shore, and I knew that any second they would give way and betray me.

  Honore and Genevieve came to stand next to me at the railing. I could hear her softly crying as she wiped her nose with her handkerchief. I stiffened slightly when Honore placed a concerned hand on my arm. Like a piece of delicate porcelain, I feared I would shatter, never to be put back together again.

  I stood there even after the ship was a good distance off, with my fingers curled around the solid wood railing so warm to the touch, knuckles and fingers white. Genevieve headed for her berth below deck, still softly crying and sniffing loudly, her handmaiden by her side.

  Honore loyally stood by my side, watched as the ship swiftly became little more than a distant memory and the southerly winds blew it back to England. I suddenly lurched forward heaving the contents of my stomach over the railing, as Honore’s quick hands grabbed hold of my waist. I suspect he feared I would throw myself over the railing in a desperate act of anguish.

  Handing me his handkerchief, I obediently wiped my mouth while he supported my arm, guiding me away from the railing in the direction of my cabin. Taking three steps, my legs gave way and I collapsed to the deck, hitting my knees as heartbreak and grief overwhelmed me. The dam of despair broke loose, pouring out the floodwaters of anguish and pain for the world to witness. I could not speak or think, I could only feel agonizing sorrow to the point that I prayed that my heart would just stop beating.

  Honore picked me up, cradled me in his arms, trying to sooth my crying as he carried me back to the room that only hours before I had shared with my husband.

  Depositing me on the bed, he was unceremoniously pushed aside by Anna and Maggie as they circled around me, certain I had been wounded and in great pain.

  I cannot recall the days that followed so lost in my own wretched misery as if I had fallen down a very deep hole, unable to climb out. I did not care if it was day or night, I barely noticed people coming or going. Disinterested in my own needs, despondent and listless, nourishment came when coaxed by patient hands at the end of a spoon.

  I wrapped myself in darkness, surrounded by his scent still fresh on my pillows and sheets. I dreamt of him, every joyful essence of his being flooding back in vivid details. Pain started anew each time I awoke to find the pillow empty beside me.

  The last day of our voyage, I lay listlessly in bed as Genevieve read to me out loud when Honore came into the room.

  “How is everyone today?” he asked, trying to sound upbeat while I continued to lay there unresponsive.

  “As well as can be expected,” Genevieve answered. “Are we nearly home? I think things will improve when we get settled in.”

  “We should dock within the next couple of hours. The winds have been in our favor.” Honore paced to the window looking out to sea. “Do you think I could get a moment with Lady Deveraux?”

  “Of course, but I don’t think she will answer you. I have been trying for days now and this is all I get out of her.” Genevieve indicated my prone position with her hands. “I will check on lunch. Let me know when you are through and I will come back and sit with her.”

  “Certainly, but I think she will be up and about soon.”

  “Now wouldn’t that be a splendid trick,” she said, stopping at the door with her hand on the latch. She paused for a few seconds then closed the door behind her.

  I barely took an interest in their conversation, lost in my own morbid thoughts. Honore sat on the side of my bed stretching out a hand as he felt for a pulse on my wrist. Then he walked over and retrieved a mirror, placing it under my nose. “Aha, just as I thought, it appears that despite your best efforts you are still alive. So don’t you think it is time to stop all this nonsense and get out of bed? I mean really, what good will you do Jude if you languish away doing irreparable harm to yourself and his child?” Honore ranted as he paced in front of the bed. “Jude bragged to me about what a spitfire you were and how nothing could stop you. I, for one, am glad he isn’t here now to witness this,” he continued while my eyes filled with tears. “What, you have nothing to say to that?” Honore lowered his face until we were nearly nose to nose, forcing me to make eye contact with him. “I should have known that you were just another weak woman. Certainly not the woman Jude described to me.” Taking me by the shoulders, he pulled me up and gave me a good shake. “I can’t believe that he fell in love with you,” he spit the words out as if they left a bad taste in his mouth.

  My hand reached out so fast, slapping him viciously across the face.

  “Did that make you mad?” he snarled in my face. “Good,” he shouted, pushing me back onto the bed like I was a rag doll. Honore stood looking down at me, disgusted, as my eyes followed his every move with contempt. “You act as if you were the only one to lose Jude, you selfish, pampered socialite. Genevieve’s only son was taken away and placed in shackles and her husband got on that ship as well. I lost my best friend, who has been like a brother to me. You’re not the only one who loves Jude, so get over yourself,” he yelled.

  “Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!” I screamed at him as I kneeled in the middle of the bed with my hands over my ears, tears glistened in my angry eyes.”

  Climbing onto the bed, he kneeled across from me. “You’re angry. Good. At least you are feeling something.” Honore gently reached up and remove my hands from my ears. Still holding my wrist, he looked into my face with compassion instead of disdain. “Feeling something is better than feeling nothing.”

  I collapsed into him feeling spent, angry spiteful tears fell from my eyes as he held me.

  “Jude was always telling me how you smelled of flowers on a spring day. But I have to say my friend did not have a very good sense of smell, because honestly you smell terrible right now,” Honore teased, trying to lighten the moment.

  I hit him in the chest with my fist. “And you, Honore Lacroix, are no gentleman,” I belligerent
ly stated, my cheek still resting on his chest. “Now get out of my bed before someone walks in on us and gets the wrong idea,” I argued, pushing him away while trying to sound indignant.

  “As you wish, Madame.” Honore climbed off the bed, bowed at the waist. “If I can be of further service to my lady, you will let me know,” he added, with a good-natured smile retrieving his hat from the table.

  “Honore?” I called out to him as he reached the door.

  “My lady?” he answered, turning around.

  “Will you let someone know that I am starving and really must have something to eat straight away,” I hesitated a few seconds then added, “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure, Madame.” A satisfied smile creased his mouth as Honore placed the hat on his head and closed the door.

  24

  TUESDAY, DECEMBER 8, 1763;

  THE UNEXPECTED GUESTS

  IFE HAD TAKEN ON A rhythm of sorts as one day blended into the next. My pregnancy had progressed without complications except for the fact that I had grown rather large.

  Genevieve and I had formed an alliance out of necessity born of a common goal that had grown into a deeper friendship bonding us together as we worked to free Jude from the Royal English prison. We had spent many hours petitioning the English and French governments to intervene on Jude’s behalf.

  Honore, residing in the three bedroom guest house, was true to his word, refusing to leave my side for any reason. He recruited a captain to take over his duties on the Tempest and Honore took over the running of the business from Jude’s office at the chateau. He and I also forged a strong friendship of blunt if not brutal honesty, like a magnifying mirror one holds up to examine flaws. I could count on Honore to always tell me the truth even if it was uncomfortable for me.

  The chateau was a grand three-story, twenty-room manor built of white stone imported from Italy. The exterior was trimmed in a local wood painstakingly stained dark brown. The tall windows granted us magnificent ocean views from southern facing rooms and sat on one hundred and twenty acres surrounded by large old trees, rich foliage and meticulously manicured grounds. The manor itself sat back from the cliffs overlooking the Bay of Biscay, with a path cut out of the side of the cliffs leading down to the sandy seashore below.

  It had been three weeks since I attempted to walk down to the beach. Because of my expanding girth, the steep climb back up the cliff had become impossible for me to manage any longer. So I sought solace each day by walking out to the cliffs that overlooked the bay to search the horizon for any sign of an approaching ship, hoping and praying that it would bring word of Jude’s release.

  The arrest and incarceration of Jude had not been made public because of his relationship to the Prime Minister of France, his father, Philippe Deveraux. Gossip of Jude’s present accommodations in the Royal Towers had reached the ears of a few of England’s aristocrats. King George III of England wished not to risk public scandal associated with such a well-known political family because of the delicate diplomatic balance between the two countries. At the same time, he could not simply ignore the serious nature of the accusations of piracy leveled against Lord Deveraux. As a result, we found ourselves at the mercy of the two principalities and their political stalemate.

  Sarah and Jonathan were married in August as planned, then set off for an extended honeymoon to Spain and Italy, sending word that they would be coming to stay with me in early December. I could barely contain my excitement. Each day I attempted to distract myself with busy work but couldn’t conceal my disappointment when darkness would blanket the horizon without so much as a hint of white sails in the distance.

  Upon rising the morning of December 8 to the sound of gentle rain-fall, I had the most marvelous feeling in the pit of my stomach that today would be the day Sarah and Jonathan would be arriving. I dressed in a forest green velvet gown that allowed for my ever-expanding middle. Anna took great care to pile my hair neatly on top with plenty of cascading curls down the back instead of the normal braid I had adopted for convenience sake.

  Fresh flowers had been brought in from the greenhouse and arranged with care, while fireplaces had been lit throughout the manor to warm the rooms and chase the chill of the rainy day away.

  Cook had been to the market earlier that morning and returned with a beautiful goose and an assortment of fresh vegetables for dinner. The aroma of fresh made bread and pastries floated through the entire manor, enticing me with their delectable delights until I could control myself no longer.

  Entering the office with a tray wielding footman in tow, I found Honore nose deep in ledgers and paperwork. “If you would just put the tray down on the table I will pour the tea myself,” I instructed, as Honore looked up from his work.

  “What’s this? You wouldn’t be serving up distraction with that tea?” he said with a broad smile as he walked around the desk, rubbing his hands together. “Because, if you are, I will have an extra serving.”

  “Then I guessed right, when I thought you would be in need of some refreshment about now, and these hot cross buns just came out of the oven and are still warm.”

  “You are an angel.” Honore sat in the chair across from me. “If I had to look at these books another minute I might have gone cross-eyed and stayed that way.”

  “Then perhaps you should balance the books tomorrow and take the rest of the day off. In fact, I will wager that by the end of the day we will have guests in the house to distract us both,” I said, smiling mysteriously.

  “Oh, and how can you know this?” Honore asked, giving me that look he likes to give me when I make my mysterious predictions that come true more times than not.

  “We will just call it a feeling and leave it at that,” I answered, and then took a delicate bite of my pastry.

  “You are a most strange woman,” he confessed, looking at me over his teacup.

  “Will you join me later for a walk? I love a brisk walk after a good rain, everything smells so fresh.”

  “But it is raining, as you English love to say, like cats and dogs,” Honore said, giving me his best aristocratic impression, which always makes me laugh.

  “But it will stop,” I assured him. “Maybe I will ask Genevieve, she hardly leaves the house anymore.”

  “Check back with me before you go out. I could use some fresh air, but I really need to catch up on the books today.”

  “That reminds me, when are we expecting the Tempest back?”

  “Any day now, in fact the ship was due to off load over a week ago in London. The crew was promised they would be home before Christmas.” Placing his cup on the tray, he stood and stretched his back, then reached down to help me up.

  “Well then, I will leave you to your work.” Taking another hot cross bun before I left, Honore gave me a look of disapproval. “What?” I said defensively. “Don’t judge. I don’t see you growing a child in your stomach.”

  “If you are not careful it will be child size when it comes out.” He indicated my ever-growing roundness with his eyes.

  “Next time I think God should make the men to bear the children, if for nothing more than a little perspective, of course.”

  “Of course,” he chuckled, then walked around the desk, taking a seat.

  I wandered out of the room nibbling on my still-warm hot cross bun and climbed the stairs in search of Genevieve and distraction.

  Three hours later the rain ended and Genevieve, Honore and I emerged from the house as the sun peeked through the clouds. Glistening raindrops dropped from petals and leaves, leaving puddles on the ground.

  The earth smelled of salty sea air that had been cleansed and refreshed from December’s mild drizzle.

  “Are you warm enough, Angelina?” Genevieve’s tone sounding concerned.

  “Yes, yes, I am plenty warm. In fact, I was getting too warm with every fire in the house ablaze,” I said just a bit impatiently.

  “Please slow down before you slip and fall.”

  “If I h
ang on to Honore’s arm, will you stop fussing over me as if I were an invalid?” I said with a fake smile. Feeling rather peevish, I took hold of Honore’s left arm.

  “Why are we going out today of all days, Angelina?” Genevieve asked, keeping up with me.

  “Because I enjoy the walk and I was feeling cooped up,” I called over my shoulder, then looked to my right where I found Honore smirking at me.

  “You did not tell her then?” he questioned with a lift of his eyebrow.

  “Tell me what?” Genevieve inquired.

  “That she had a feeling that today we would be receiving visitors.” His skeptical tone irritated me slightly.

  “She what?” Genevieve asked, not sure what Honore was talking about.

  “Sarah and Jonathan said that they would be here about the first of December, and I have this strange sensation that today is the day. So I have been trying to stay busy and distracted, but I can’t stand it any longer, and I want to see if there is a sailing ship on the horizon or some indication that they really could be here today,” I rambled on like a crazy woman. “There! I said it. Are you happy now, you doubting Thomas?” I turned to Honore frustrated with him for betraying me to my mother-in-law.

  Looking satisfactorily repentant, his big eyes opened wide and his right hand across his heart as if he had been wounded by my words. “Please forgive me. I did not realize I had been sworn to secrecy.”

  “Turncoat,” I teased.

  “Is that the reason for the fresh flowers and extra baking Cook has been doing?”

  “Yes. As I said it was only a feeling, it may be nothing.”

  “If nothing else, my dear, the walk will do us all some good.” Genevieve reached out to touch my arm. The look on her face was compassionate and understanding, and I smiled.

  We walked another fifteen minutes before reaching the cliffs. My eyes frantically searched the horizon a few minutes before I caught the refraction of white sails against a gray and white sky.