Sleeping with the Enemy: Lords of Lancashire, Book 4

by Barbosa, Jackie

  “Of course, I shouted out to him. When he saw me, he jumped a bit—like one does when startled—and then turned and came toward me. I met him about halfway, and he asked me what I was doing down by the river. I told him I was just having a look across after my inspection and asked him the same question in return. He said he hadn’t been able to sleep, so he’d decided to take a walk but he was feeling more relaxed now. We said our goodnights and I headed back up the hill, but Langston just stood there and watched me go.

  “That was the last time I saw the lieutenant colonel until today. He wasn’t at muster the next morning. When we went to check his tent, he wasn’t there, and his bunk hadn’t been slept in. Because I’d seen him out and about the night before, we wondered if some sort of accident might have befallen him on his way back to his tent, and a search was organized, but we found neither hide nor hair of him. There were rumblings among them men that he must have deserted, but of course, I didn’t believe that. Not then, anyway.”

  Throughout this monologue, the prosecutor nodded and looked suitably somber. When Shelley reached this point, he interjected, “So it didn’t immediately occur to you to suspect that Langston had never returned to his tent but instead crossed the river and betrayed your plans to the Americans?”

  Bellamy shot to his feet. “Point of order.”

  Acton nodded for the solicitor to continue.

  “At this point, not one shred of evidence has been presented that demonstrates anyone betrayed the British plan of attack to the Americans. My esteemed colleague is getting ahead of himself.”

  “Agreed. Colonel Hickinbottom, please confine yourself to questions about established facts.”

  “I apologize, sir.” The prosecutor turned his attention back to Shelley as Bellamy subsided back into his seat. “Let me rephrase that. Major Shelley, did you at the time think that there might be a less-than-innocent reason for Lieutenant Colonel Langston’s absence?”

  “Absolutely not. At that time, I considered the lieutenant colonel to be one of the most honest and loyal officers I had ever known and certainly of the best under whose command I had ever served. I was deeply concerned for his health and safety, not worried that he might have left of his own volition.”

  “But subsequent events changed your mind?”

  The major’s face fell. The expression was so calculated that anyone with half an eye could have seen it was feigned, but Geoffrey noticed that most of the people in the gallery nodded in sympathy. “Sadly, yes.”

  “Please explain what those events were.”

  “Well, to begin with, the Americans were ready for us when we crossed. Of course, the whole operation went sideways on account of Downie getting killed and the fleet losing the naval battle, but there was no way the American forces should have been arrayed where they were, waiting for us, if they hadn’t known we were planning to attack from exactly the spot where we chose to cross. They’d put a series of false roads and mazes in exactly the right locations to lead us astray, and when the call to retreat came, we had the devil of a time extricating ourselves. We were lucky to get out with as few casualties as we did.”

  The prosecutor smiled. “You damn yourself with faint praise, Major Shelley. You were, in fact, recognized for extreme valor in ensuring the safety of your battalion’s retreat, were you not?”

  Shelley actually had the audacity to blush. “Well, yes, sir, I was, but I was only doing my duty to my men. Anyone would have done the same in my shoes.” And then he looked pointedly at Geoffrey and frowned. Except for you, the look said.

  Kick.

  “So, just to clarify your testimony, it occurred to you after the battle was over that someone must have betrayed the British attack plans to the Americans. Is that correct?”

  “Aye.”

  “And was that suspicion borne out by later intelligence reports?”

  “That’s what I’ve heard, yes.”

  Bellamy got to his feet again. “Objection. The witness is clearly testifying to facts not personally known to him.”

  Before Acton could rule, Hickinbottom said, “I apologize. We will be calling another witness later to establish this fact. I withdraw the question.” He turned back to Shelley. “Once you learned that the Americans had been apprised of the British attack strategy, what made you believe Lieutenant Colonel Langston might have been their informant?”

  Shelley shrugged. “The timing, obviously. I mean, I saw him on his way to the river on the night our final plans were made, and I didn’t see him return to his tent. And he wasn’t there the next morning and never returned. Also, that same night, the Americans managed to sneak across the river and destroy one our Congreve rocket batteries. How could they have gotten away with it if someone hadn’t told them how to evade our night patrols? Seems pretty obvious he decided to turn his coat and deserted to the American side.”

  Kick.

  This time, Bellamy didn’t stand. He just raised his hand. “Pure conjecture. Major Shelley cannot possibly know what Lieutenant Colonel Langston decided to do or what he did, as he did not witness any of the events to which he is now testifying.”

  “Sustained,” said the judge advocate. “Have a care, Colonel.”

  The prosecutor nodded, although he did not look the slightest bit chagrined. “I am going to ask you one more question, Major Shelley, and please, if you could confine yourself only to facts known directly by you. Everyone, including yourself, has stated that Lieutenant Colonel Langston was known as an exemplary officer and no one questioned his loyalty or fidelity. Not only that, but he could have sold his commission at any time for quite a tidy sum of money if he had simply wanted to stop soldiering. Given these facts, what possible motive could he have had for committing treason and desertion?”

  Shelley smiled, and there was something malicious and gleeful in it. “Well, mind you, I didn’t know until a few weeks ago, but I’d say the fact that he married that American tart—” here, he pointed an accusatory finger to where Laura sat in the gallery, “—explains a lot. He’s bloody sleeping with the enemy, isn’t he?”

  Murderous rage blossomed in Geoffrey’s chest. If Bellamy hadn’t grabbed his wrist under the table and twisted it painfully, Geoffrey might well have gone for Shelley’s throat.

  Every eye in the courtroom turned to fix on Laura, just as Shelley had no doubt intended. With Thomas, Nash, and Conrad sitting in a semi-circle around her, she was surrounded by powerful and palpable support. Yet there was still an audible collective gasp at the revelation that Mrs. Geoffrey Langston was not the lady of good British birth she appeared to be, but an American. And a tart.

  Bellamy had warned them both that this was coming. That the prosecution would try to use their marriage as a motive for Geoffrey’s alleged crimes. Hell and damnation, he and Laura had even discussed the possibility before they’d arrived in England. And yet, he hadn’t been prepared for hearing those sneering words, “American tart,” from Shelley’s lips or for watching her become the center of the spiteful attention of dozens of strangers.

  Kick, kick, kick.

  Geoffrey knew his emotions were showing on his face and he tried his best to subdue them, but Shelley’s performance was outrageous. Worse yet, the panel and the gallery were eating it up. Couldn’t they see Shelley was lying? About exactly what, Geoffrey couldn’t say, of course, but one thing was absolutely clear to him.

  Martin Shelley was determined to see Geoffrey dead.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “That was bad for us, wasn’t it?” Laura asked Mr. Bellamy, referring to Major Shelley’s direct testimony.

  The court had adjourned for a two-hour break, and she, Geoffrey, Nash, and the solicitor were sharing one of several carriages back to Langston House for luncheon.

  “It was a lot of smoke,” Bellamy said gruffly, “but precious little fire. Still, it’s enough smoke to make it bloo—blessed difficult to see through to the truth.” He patted her hand. “Don’t lose hope yet, though. Things may l
ook a bit different after my cross-examination this afternoon.”

  When Shelley stepped into the witness box after lunch and Bellamy approached him, he appeared considerably more apprehensive than he had in the morning. Of course, it was difficult to blame him. Colonel Hickinbottom hadn’t been trying to catch Shelley in a falsehood and also didn’t look like a man who could flatten an ox with his fist.

  The brawny solicitor started up with a friendly enough question. “How long had you been with Lieutenant Colonel Langston’s battalion when you arrived at Plattsburgh?”

  The major mulled this over. “About eight months, I’d say. I was assigned to his command by Major-General Robinson in January of last year.”

  “And when did the British army arrive at Plattsburgh and set up camp?”

  “August thirty-first,” was the prompt response. Shelley’s brows furrowed. “Why?”

  Bellamy smiled, and that smile was almost more terrifying than a frown would have been. Shelley shrank back perceptibly. “Just establishing a proper timeline of events,” the solicitor replied genially. “Would you say, Major Shelley, that morale among the men of your battalion was good at that time?”

  This was another question that appeared to cause Shelley some confusion. Frowning, he said, “No better or worse than any of the other battalions, I’d say.”

  “How was your morale?”

  “Fine. I was fine.” But the response seemed to Laura a little too quick. A little too emphatic.

  Bellamy tapped his index finger to his lips. “So you didn’t tell the officers under your command that you thought Canada was…” Pausing, he opened a folder and shifted a few papers. “Ah, yes… You didn’t tell them you thought Canada was a ‘shithole country—’” a gasp rose up in the room, and the solicitor waited for it to subside before he continued, “—and that it would be better to let it burn than bother defending it?”

  Shelley’s eyes flashed with real anger, but he managed to tamp down on the emotion. “Yes, I did say that, but I was just letting off a bit of spleen. All of us did it from time to time.”

  “Did Lieutenant Colonel Langston ‘let off spleen' in thisway?”

  “No,” Shelley admitted sullenly.

  “Now, during the days between your arrival in Plattsburgh and the night the lieutenant colonel disappeared, did you notice any unusual behavior on his part?”

  “Unusual how?”

  “Was he ever absent when his presence was expected? Ever late to any meetings or other appointments? Ever impossible to find when someone went looking for him?”

  The major frowned. “Not that I know of.”

  “Not that you know of.” Bellamy paused for effect. “Would you be likely to know if he had been?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean what I asked, Major Shelley. Given your rank and your position in the battalion as second-in-command, if Lieutenant Colonel Langston was not where he was supposed to be when he was supposed to be there, or could not be found when his input or authority was required, would you have been likely to be informed of this fact?”

  “I suppose so, yes.”

  “So, in the nine days leading up to his disappearance, when do you suppose he would have had the opportunity to cross into enemy territory, meet an American woman, fall in love with her, and decide to betray his country and everything he had apparently held dear for the past twenty-five years for her?”

  It was a masterful blow. Laura had to squeeze her hands between her knees to keep from clapping. Shelley gaped for several long seconds. He clearly hadn’t seen where Bellamy was going with his initial questions, and now he was uncertain as to how to answer.

  “I—er,” he began after the silence had stretched long enough to become very uncomfortable. “That is…I don’t know. At night, maybe?”

  Bellamy’s eyes widened in an expression of absolute incredulity. “You are asking this court to imagine that, after an entire day of attending to his duties as the commander of a battalion of a thousand soldiers, Lieutenant Colonel Langston sashayed unopposed across the Saranac river and just happened to encounter a woman on the other side—in the middle of the night—with whom he fell in love in less than a week? When do you suppose the man slept?”

  There was a flutter of laughter in the gallery. Even a few of the typically stony-faced panelists cracked smiles.

  Shelley’s response was a shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe he already knew her. Before we got to Plattsburgh.”

  “How do you propose that could have happened? Didn’t you and Langston ship over from Bordeaux at the same time? Are you suggesting he traveled off to Plattsburgh after arriving in Canada and all the way back with no one the wiser?”

  “Might’ve met her on a previous posting.”

  Bellamy looked thoughtful and then frowned, shaking his head sadly. “I’m afraid that’s not possible, major. I have the lieutenant colonel’s entire service record here.” He patted a thick stack of papers with his left hand. “Langston was never posted to the Americas before June of 1814.”

  Shelley finally said, “Well, maybe she wasn’t the reason. We didn’t even know she existed until a few weeks ago. But he was the logical suspect, even before that. What with everything I testified to earlier.”

  “Ah, yes. Your earlier testimony.” The solicitor picked up several sheet of paper, on which he’d obviously made notes. After a show of paging through them, he said, “I’d like to ask you about these nightly rounds you say you were in the habit of making.”

  “What about them?”

  “First of all, did you ever run into Lieutenant Colonel Langston when making these rounds on any night other than September ninth?”

  “No, sir, I did not.”

  “That seems odd, doesn’t it, given the lieutenant colonel was well-known for his habit of making his own nightly rounds of the camp? I have a stack of affidavits from soldiers who served under his command all the way back to his earliest commission, and every one attests to this having been Langston’s standard practice throughout his career. How do you explain the fact that you never once crossed paths?”

  “Why would I need to explain it? We obviously just weren’t ever in the same place in camp at the same time.”

  “Fair enough,” Bellamy said, but Laura felt sure he’d scored a small point with the panelists, if not the audience. “What made you decide to venture near the river on that particular night?”

  “Like I said, just wanted to have a look. See what was waiting for us on the other side.”

  “This was the first time you had ever gone to ‘have a look’ across the river on one of your nightly rounds?”

  Shelley’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  Mr. Bellamy cast an impatient look at the judge advocate.

  “Answer the question, Major Shelley,” Acton admonished.

  The major swallowed, his Adam’s apple jumping in his throat. “No.”

  “I see. So it wasn’t a new impulse on the night of the ninth. Did you ever meet anyone else on your way to or from the river?”

  “A few of the enlisted lads a couple of times. And Captain Farraday once.”

  With a nod, Bellamy said, “In other words, it wasn’t particularly unusual for members of your battalion to be in that area at night.”

  “Well, no, but it was a bit risky. You couldn’t be sure the fellows on the other side wouldn’t take a shot at you.”

  “And yet you did it anyway. More than once.”

  “I tried to keep to the trees. Everyone did if they went down there. You know, so we’d be hard to spot.”

  “But on the night of the ninth, when you say you saw the lieutenant colonel walking toward the river, you—” Bellamy rifled through his stack of notes and, upon finding the passage he was interested in, read aloud, “‘shouted out to him’ and then set off to meet him.” Setting the paper back on the table, he gave Shelley a quizzical look. “That doesn’t seem like a very wise thing for you to have done, Major Shelley. Calling
attention not only to your presence but to your commanding officer’s as well.”

  This time, the ripple that went through the courtroom was not one of amusement, but of suspicion. Given that many of the onlookers were officers or soldiers, this observation had hit home.

  Laura reached for her brother-in-law’s hand and squeezed it gratefully. Nash had been right about Mr. Bellamy. He had called most of the key points of Major Shelley’s testimony into question, but in a way that did not require the man to admit he was lying. Instead, the solicitor had poked just enough holes in Shelley’s story to give reason to doubt the veracity of his narrative.

  “Was that a question, Mr. Bellamy?” the judge advocate asked after the stir had died down.

  The solicitor glanced thoughtfully from Acton to the man in the witness stand and then back again. “No, I think not. I am finished with my cross, my lord.”

  The final witness of the day was an intelligence officer who testified to the War Office’s discovery of evidence that the British attack plans had been leaked, somehow, to the Americans, and that this was in some measure responsible for the disaster that befell Downie’s fleet and ultimately led to the retreat of Prévost’s army. Bellamy’s cross-examination was perfunctory, in large part because Geoffrey’s defense did not rest on proving there had not been a traitor. This was a point upon which both the prosecution and the defense had more or less agreed.

  Bellamy’s only questions had to do with whether any of the information that had come to War Office implicated Geoffrey specifically, and the answer to that was a resounding no. Suspicion had fallen upon Geoffrey for two—and only two—reasons: Major Shelley’s claim to have seen him heading toward the river with the possible intent of crossing to the American side of the river, and the fact that he had vanished without a trace before the battle.

  “That seems a mighty thin basis for suspecting an otherwise highly regarded officer of treason, don’t you think?” Mr. Bellamy asked. And then, before the witness could answer, added, “Never mind. I withdraw the question.”