Page 37 of A Gentleman in Possession of Secrets (The Lord Julian Mysteries #10)
“Which,” Lady Ophelia muttered from the depths of a wing chair, “he might well be.”
I had taken my belated supper on a tray in Lady Ophelia’s sitting room. Carstairs and the captain had arrived halfway through my meal. Hyperia presided over a tea tray, though nobody seemed interested in the requisite polite two cups.
“An inability to manage his funds does not excuse his behavior in the least.” The captain, perching awkwardly in the second wing chair, appeared unwell.
The strain was telling, in features that looked more drawn than usual and in the manner in which he rubbed his knee. “Our best course is logical enough.”
We had debated this logical measure at some length. “You want to post a lookout at the Dolans’,” I said, “and wait for an appearance of Downing or his accomplice. When our quarry retrieves his next bone or mess of tripe, we follow him and foil the kidnappers.”
“I don’t advise the course,” Hyperia said, not for the first time. “Downing has fought two duels that I know of, and if I know of them, he’s likely fought more. He knows how to use a gun and will commit violence against his fellow man.”
My darling was protective of me, for which I adored her, and she was sensible, which equally inspired my admiration.
I wanted to blow Hyperia a kiss, but settled for echoing her objections.
“We are not in a position to lay siege to whatever farmhouse or cottage Downing has appropriated, and that assumes that Downing or his accomplice gathers up the dog’s rations and repairs straight to the place where Hannah is held.
Moreover, we might wait in vain for days—the ransom instructions are due tomorrow, and Downing might have already broken camp. ”
“I agree with Lord Julian.” Carstairs offered his support from a high stool near the hearth.
“Downing—if Downing is our man—has succeeded with his scheme thus far. The ransom is due to be collected tomorrow, and he might well have already taken his victim elsewhere. Then too, Mrs. Dolan might be telling the truth, and Downing is ten miles north of where we think he is.”
“When we pay the ransom,”—Lady Ophelia took up the narrative—“we will be directed to retrieve the lady from some gatehouse five miles to the south, while the kidnappers hare off with their ill-gotten treasure in the opposite direction. When we reach the gate house, we’ll be informed of the lady’s actual location.
This would be amusing were it not so serious. ”
The conversation went around for another half hour, putting me in mind of countless strategy sessions in Spain.
Would the French break camp because their pasture was running low?
Remain where they were because water was in good supply?
Would they divide their forces, or remain in place, awaiting reinforcements from distant provinces?
Did we attack? Fall back? Neither? And for every sound argument put forth, an equally convincing advocate spoke for the opposite strategy.
The only certainty we’d had in Spain had been the judgment of Parliament upon us, because every option would have negative consequences, and the legislators sleeping safe in their beds at home focused nigh exclusively on those consequences.
“We’re too tired to think clearly,” I said when the same ground had been plowed yet again.
“And we’re keeping the ladies from their slumbers.
The next move is Downing’s. He will send word regarding the ransom.
We have a reasonable facsimile thereof ready to hand over, and if that results in Miss Hannah being surrendered safely to us, we will call that victory. ”
MacNamara wanted to argue, of course, but he rose awkwardly and bowed his good-nights to Hyperia and Lady Ophelia. Carstairs did likewise—they had come in the captain’s carriage—while I lingered behind.
“You young people will excuse me,” Lady Ophelia said.
“I trust if you are too tired to think, you are too tired to commit rank foolishness on the eve of battle. Julian, you will seek your bed posthaste. You are not to skulk through the underbrush in search of villains by dark of night. Your word on that, sir.”
I could not give it . “I concede the wisdom of a good night’s sleep before a taxing day. Any soldier would, and I do not skulk, ever.”
“Hyperia, make him see reason. I am away to the arms of Morpheus.”
Her ladyship retired to her bedroom, closing the door softly. Hyperia stepped into my arms in the next instant.
“I want this investigation to be over, Jules. It has gone far less than well.”
“I want Miss Stadler safe and secure. By this time tomorrow, that might be the case.”
Hyperia eased away and studied me. “You would truly be content with that outcome? The money and trinkets turned over to a conscienceless villain, Hannah’s reputation always at risk because that same villain can start rumors against her at any time?”
I led my intended to the sofa that faced the hearth. The fire was burning low, but the night was cool enough that a bit of heat was a comfort. So was Hyperia’s simple, dear presence beside me on that worn sofa.
“I survived the worst treatment the French could mete out, Perry. I cling to that fact—survival against the odds—when I want to collapse in a heap of despair because I was taken captive. Worse, I let myself be taken captive without a struggle. I had a responsibility to resist, to go down fighting, and I failed in that duty.”
“This still bothers you.”
Bothers was a gross understatement. “I failed my duty as an officer, and I failed my brother as well. Those realities would condemn me to endless shame, except that wallowing in my own inadequacy adds further dishonor to failure. I yet have life , and I yet am capable of making a contribution. Many others cannot say the same. I owe it to them, to the sacrifices they made, to carry on and to do so as gratefully as I can.”
I had reasoned this much out shortly after coming home from Waterloo, while enduring the first volley of judgment at Society’s hands. The reality of Harry’s passing had descended anew along with a black miasma of melancholia.
I could have easily become another former officer who’d suffered an accident while cleaning his pistol. On my worst days, the temptation dogged me still. Reasoning one’s way to a path forward and sticking to that path were vastly different undertakings.
“Then victory means Hannah Stadler’s safe return, at almost any cost?”
“If the cost is coin that the captain and I can spare and a few jewels Lady Ophelia won’t miss, then yes. That’s victory.”
“But not success.” Hyperia took my arm and arranged it around her shoulders. Then she drew her feet up so she was cuddled quite close indeed.
A year ago, I would have been delighted to hold her thus, to revel in the comfort of simple affection. One part of me would forever be captive to my past, but another part of me had come a great distance in a little over twelve months.
“I want you to know something, Perry.” I had not planned those words. “You have merely to listen. You need not reply.”
She was listening. I could tell by the feel of her against my side.
“Go on, Jules.”
“When you accepted my proposal of marriage, you believed me to be incapable of the activity that results in the conception of children. I believed myself incapable as well, and, in fact, I was incapable.”
“I know this, but something has changed, hasn’t it?”
“How can you tell?”
“Your touch is different. More careful, not as friendly. You invited me down to the Hall and then played least in sight, day after day. I know you are searching for Hannah, but still… a gentleman cannot cry off, and you are a gentleman.”
Ye winged seraphim, she was brave. “Nor am I crying off. I am alerting you to a change in my circumstances. I owe you this report, Hyperia, because above all else, I want us to be honest with each other. We’ve come through some difficult moments, and I would never, ever want it said that you married me when I was flying a false flag.
Mind you, I have not tested my hypothesis, but I suspect if you wanted children, I could do my part with significant enthusiasm. ”
Hyperia’s first reaction was silence, during which I berated myself for bringing up this awkward, fraught topic at the worst possible time.
She tilted her head to consider me. “You aren’t asking to cry off?”
Cry and off had abruptly become my two least favorite words in the lexicon.
“Absolutely not. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I promise you loyalty, fidelity, and all the rest of it on the original terms, Perry, but you deserve to know that I am fundamentally different now from the man you promised to marry.”
I waited for her to muster some sort of speech about reevaluating our bargain and certain matters requiring careful thought. I did love her, I did want her to be happy, and marriage to me—to the man I had become—might not figure in that recipe.
I had not, though, meant to broach the topic at this late hour, when my reserves of fortitude were at low ebb, and the coming day might see all manner of tragedy.
“You have not changed, Jules,” Hyperia said, “not in any way that should matter.”
She remained in my embrace, eyes closed, perhaps dozing, or trying to make me think she was asleep.
We hadn’t cleared the air. We hadn’t resolved all questions, but I was learning that my relationship with Hyperia was a work in progress.
We muddled along in good faith, our trust waxing more than it waned with each difficult issue or unforeseen challenge.
“I’m falling asleep,” she said a few moments later. “Investigating with Lady Ophelia is demanding work.”
“Then I will take my leave of you, before we both drift off. Tomorrow promises to be difficult.”
I rose, and Hyperia came to her feet as well. Without warning, she gathered me into a fierce hug.
“I love you too, Julian. Very much. With your honesty and trust, you honor me more than I can express.” She rested her cheek against my chest, making a paper in my breast pocket crackle.
“Is there more you’d say, Hyperia? We have privacy, and I hadn’t meant to burden you with confidences tonight, but I did anyway. My apologies for that.”
“Yes, there is more…” She straightened and patted my chest. “Nothing that won’t keep. “You seldom carry anything in a breast pocket. Is that a map?”
She had changed the subject. Were the hour not so advanced, I would have pressed for details. I had her declaration of love, though, and decided to allow that to be the last word on our romantic circumstances.
I extracted the folded paper from my pocket, somewhat surprised to find Jem’s pamphlet bookmark. I recalled stashing it somewhere, a tail pocket perhaps.
“Somebody’s diatribe on the Church of England’s responsibility to support more legal independence for women, especially wives. Jem was using it for a bookmark in Mrs. Burney’s novel.”
“The novel Hannah borrowed?”
“The one she borrowed that was somehow returned to some under-librarian in the outer reaches of Hamden Parva….” I held the folded paper up to a branch of candles on the mantel.
Had Hannah returned the book, or had her kidnappers tossed the novel aside, leaving some passerby to exercise a sense of civic duty?
I studied the pamphlet more closely, some fact or connection trying to tickle my brain.
“What is it, Jules?”
“I saw this same pamphlet in the captain’s fishing cottage.
Several copies of it. Hannah might have picked one up for herself, and that means…
” I opened the leaflet and scanned the printing.
To see well, I needed strong sunlight, but had only the candles…
“Perry, look at this closely for me, would you? Look for any marks, any faint lines, anything that indicates Hannah might have used this pamphlet to send us word of her location.”
I was grasping at straws, but at this eleventh hour, I forgave myself the folly.
“Here,” Hyperia said, holding the pamphlet perilously near the candles. “Somebody underlined a sentence or two in light pencil.”
“Read them to me, please.”
“‘And what recourse has the dutiful wife, accustomed to sheltering beneath the oak of her husband’s protection, when he is laid low by the lightning of misfortune, injury, or disease?’ It goes on about she has neither the authority of the widow nor the safety of her husband’s strength and abilities, but must be felled with him, powerless and suffering in her own right, despite having faculties and skills with which to earn coin… All very passionate. Also true.”
Also damned clever. “Perry, I know where Hannah is. Not exactly, but close enough to reconnoiter my way to her doorstep.”
“From one sentence in a bleating pamphlet?”
“Hamden Parva is home to an oak struck by lightning. The thing pokes up above the other trees some distance off the green. It’s ugly and should have been taken down years ago, but I am certain that if I look carefully enough in the vicinity of that oak, I’ll find the signs of our kidnapper’s passing, and I can track him from there. ”
“Julian, you need rest. It’s late and dark, and if you take a lantern, Downing will see you.”
He might. Tomorrow was bound to be a fraught day for him too—him and whatever accomplices aided his scheme. Troubling thoughts might well keep him awake through the night.
“You aren’t wrong.”
“I am right. Go back to the captain’s. Explain what we’ve found. Rest. In the morning, confer with Hannah’s family before you take any risky measures. Lady Ophelia and I will be ready for orders at first light.”
“You yourself said that Downing could be violent, my dear. I cannot—”
She put a finger to my lips. “Hannah might need the company of women, and she will definitely need somebody to keep her mother in check. You cannot be everywhere at once.”
“You are pulling rank.”
“And you love me for it.”
I kissed her good night and got kissed rather thoroughly in return. Thus mightily fortified, I made it as far as the hammock on the captain’s back porch, where I fell asleep the instant my eyes were closed.