скачать книгу бесплатно
“Welcome, Lady Bennington, Lady Marianne.” Another matron, gray-haired and in a black dress, stepped forward. Authority emanated from her such as Jamie had witnessed in the sternest of sea captains, but he also noted a hint of warmth as she addressed the countess.
“Mrs. Martin.” Lady Bennington’s countenance glowed as she grasped the woman’s hands. “How good to see you.” Her gaze swept over the assembly. “Good afternoon, my dear, dear girls.”
Mrs. Martin lifted one hand to direct the children in a chorus of “Good afternoon, Lady Bennington, Lady Marianne.” One and all, their faces beamed with affection for their patronesses.
While the countess made some remarks, Jamie noticed Lady Marianne leaning toward the little ones as if she wished to go to them. The countess then gestured to John the footman, who brought forth one of the boxes. Jamie followed Moberly’s lead and moved back against the wall while the two ladies disbursed knitted mittens, scarves and caps they and their friends had made. The children’s joy and gratitude punctured Jamie’s self-containment, and he tried to grip his emotions. Still, breathing became more difficult as the scene progressed.
When Lady Marianne knelt on the well-scrubbed wooden floor among the smallest orphans, gathering in her arms a wee brown-haired tot to show her how to don her mittens, Jamie’s last defenses fell away, and a shattering ache filled his chest.
Lord, forgive me. I love this good lady beyond all sense, beyond all wisdom. Only through Your guidance can I walk away from her. Yet if, in Your great goodness, You could grant us happiness—
Jamie could not permit himself to complete the prayer. He would neither request nor expect the only answer that would give him personal joy. Not when there was a revolution to be fought and a fourteenth colony to draw into the mighty fray. If he must lose at love, so be it.
But he must not lose at war, for in that there was so much more at stake—nothing less than the destiny of a newborn nation.
Chapter Six
“Captain Templeton looks quite presentable in his new riding clothes, do you not think, Grace?” Marianne sat in the open carriage beside Mama’s companion, whom she had borrowed for today’s outing to Hyde Park. “Robert approves, or he would not have agreed to bring the American with us.” She herself had been stunned when Jamie walked into the drawing room just an hour ago, for the cut of his brown wool coat over his broad shoulders and the close lines of his tan breeches over his strong legs emphasized his superior masculine form. Why, if not for his colonial speech, he could pass for a peer of the realm.
Grace looked toward the two men, who rode their horses slightly ahead of the open black landau. “Yes, my lady. The captain has the appearance of a true gentleman.” She pursed her lips, and her eyes took on a merry glint. “And I do believe with a little practice, his horsemanship will improve.”
Marianne responded with a knowing smile as she searched Grace’s face. But the lady’s countenance bore no hint of feeling for Jamie other than her usual kindheartedness. A modicum of shame warmed Marianne’s cheeks, despite the brisk March breeze that fanned over them. She need never be jealous of dear Grace.
“I agree. But I am not altogether certain my brother can be trusted to see to Captain Templeton’s riding lessons.”
A shadow flitted over Grace’s face. “Surely you do not think Mr. Moberly would permit the American to be harmed.” She gazed at Robert, her eyes glowing with a softness that Marianne had never before noticed.
Withholding a gasp of realization, she forced her own gaze to settle on Robert. This morning she had observed the usual shadows beneath his eyes and his languid posture, which bespoke his many nights of intemperance and little sleep. Could pious Grace care for such a reprobate? Marianne hated to think of her brother in terms their father would use, but Robert truly met that description.
Before she could respond to Grace’s concern, Robert hailed another open carriage passing from the other direction. “Ho there, Highbury. Do stop for a chat.” He waved to Wiggins to stop Marianne’s conveyance.
The young man called to his driver, who reined his horses to a stop. Beside Mr. Highbury sat his sister, Lady Eugenia, and Marianne felt a rush of pleasure at seeing these friends. Due to Lord Highbury’s Whig politics, Papa no longer associated with him, and out of loyalty, both families deferred to their patriarchs.
Robert presented Jamie to the Highburys, and pleasantries flew about the little group.
“I see you and Lady Marianne have taken advantage of this rare sunny day, too, Mr. Moberly.” Lady Eugenia gave Robert a warm smile, and her eyelashes fluttered.
Marianne heard Grace’s soft sigh beside her. It was clear Eugenia was flirting with Robert. But Lord Highbury would never permit her to marry a second son.
Robert, all charm and energy now, bowed in his saddle. “My lady, it must be Fate that brought us together.”
“I absolutely concur.” Mr. Highbury’s gaze settled on Grace, and he nodded to her. “Even the ground is dry. We simply must take a turn around the park.”
With all in agreement, the ladies were assisted from their carriages. While Eugenia maneuvered her way toward Robert, Marianne managed to edge close to Jamie. Mr. Highbury seemed more than agreeable to pairing with Grace, bowing and offering his arm to her.
“Your riding has improved, Captain Templeton.” Marianne gave his arm an expectant look.
“Thank you, my lady.” He offered it without meeting her gaze. “I would not call myself a horseman, but at least I’ve remained astride.”
A light laugh escaped her, as light as her heart felt over walking beside him on this fine day. “Your modesty is as refreshing as today’s weather.” Indeed, the invigorating air in Hyde Park carried no hint of the unpleasant city odors.
“It is a good day.” He lengthened his stride, as if eager to catch the other two couples walking several yards ahead of them on the brown grass.
After several seconds of trying to keep up with him, Marianne tugged at his arm. “Perhaps when your ship is repaired, we can enjoy a short voyage on the Thames, as we did last year.”
Jamie stopped, but his gaze remained on the others as the distance between them widened. “I am sure Lord Bennington will be too busy for such an excursion.”
Again, Marianne laughed, a strained sound she hoped Jamie would not notice. “Of course Papa will be too busy. But Robert—”
“Ah, yes. Robert.” Jamie looked at her, and his eyes filled with concern. “My lady, I would not wish to presume…anything. However, Moberly seems to regard me as a friend. It may be that I can have some good influence on his, um, habits.” He glanced away. “Please continue to walk with me.”
“Yes, of course.” Her heart dipped in disappointment.
They resumed their stroll across the almost empty park. She did not wish to discuss Robert, but he was very dear to her. Jamie’s Christian charity toward her brother moved her.
“I have often spoken to my brother about his lack of spiritual interest. Our brother Frederick is also concerned about him. But Robert assures us he will take care of that matter when he grows older.”
“An error too many people make, if I may be so bold, my lady.”
A hint of dread touched Marianne’s heart. “I hope you will be bold enough to speak to him of Christ’s redemption.”
Jamie’s expression grew thoughtful, but he did not seem inclined to say more. Her heart heavy for more than one reason, Marianne gazed around the landscape, where trees had begun to bud and tiny shoots of green appeared in the brown grass.
“Moberly would benefit from our prayers.” Jamie’s deep, rich voice resounded with concern. “In truth, though I would not judge the man, I fear that his immortal soul is in danger.”
Gratitude for his observation filled Marianne. “I have the same fear. Oh, Jamie—”
Wincing, he stopped again, but avoided her gaze. “Please, my lady.”
The pain and censure in his voice cut into her. “I—I mean, Captain Templeton.” She resumed her stroll, and he followed suit. “What can we do for him?”
“I would not wish for Lady Bennington to think ill of me, since I am a guest in her house, but I have considered going to one of these routs with Moberly. They’re all he speaks of, and seem to consume his life.” Jamie paused. “What does a rout involve?”
The tightness of his tone almost made Marianne laugh. “Why, a rout is just a gathering at someone’s home. The hostess invites a huge number of people who want to be seen and to see others.” She sobered. “But Robert only says he’s going to a rout to avoid stating his true plans. Oh, he may indeed attend one, but he then goes gambling and—”
“You need not continue, my lady.” Jamie cast a quick glance her way and patted her hand, sending a pleasant shiver up her arm. “I understand your meaning.” He studied the ground before them. “Nevertheless, I feel compelled to go with him.”
They walked in silence for a few moments. Jamie’s large form blocked much of the breeze that fluttered the edges of her cape and carried the scent of his woody shaving balm in her direction. She could not resist the temptation to lean against his arm, as if she could absorb some of his strength. But he seemed to sway away from her to a degree so small she might have been mistaken.
“You would put yourself in temptation’s way…for Robert?” Marianne felt tears forming. Jamie’s godly goodness and selflessness were just two of the reasons she loved him.
“By God’s grace, I have so far resisted such temptations. The Book of Proverbs fully addresses the subject, and it is my guide.”
“But there are other dangers.” Marianne shuddered to think of the vicious packs of wellborn miscreants who wandered the night streets of London filled with evil intentions. Thievery, beatings, even murder were their games, and if they chose their victims carefully, they never had to pay.
Jamie nodded. “I’m sure there are. But our Lord dined with the worst of sinners that He might demonstrate God’s love to them.”
“Oh, Jamie…Captain…” She again tugged him to a stop. “Our Lord knew when and how He would die. He was in full control of everything. You are not. Why would you risk your life this way?” She argued against her own heart, for she did love Robert and longed for his salvation.
Jamie drew himself up to his full height, yet his gaze into her eyes was gentle and full of conviction. “Lady Marianne, there are causes worth giving one’s life for. Christ died to free us from sin and give us eternal life. Should I not willingly give my life for another man…and for freedom?” He clamped his lips closed and shook his head. “We should join the others.”
Confusion filled her. Jamie seemed to think he had spoken amiss, yet she found no fault in his words. “I am deeply grateful for your willingness to befriend Robert. I will pray God will bless your efforts.” And that He will protect you both, my love.
Jamie was surprised so little time had passed during his torturous walk at Lady Marianne’s side. A few more minutes alone with her would be his undoing. He could see she understood his concern for Moberly and that she truly loved her brother. This, along with her earnest words of faith—and the heady scent of her rose perfume—created in him a powerful yearning to confess his love that he was scarce able to deny. His weak, silent prayer for strength brought no relief, and the journey across the park left his emotions ravaged by the time they reached the others.
Not one of the four seemed to have missed Lady Marianne, and certainly not him. With great effort, he forced his mind to address this fortuitous meeting with young Highbury, a lad of perhaps twenty-one. Jamie had learned Lord Highbury was a prominent Whig who, with others of his party, opposed King George’s vile treatment of the colonists. In fact, their opposition extended to refusing to take their seats in the current session of Parliament. Jamie’s orders from General Washington included uncovering any allies among the Whigs who might help the Revolution, but Bennington’s social circle excluded those very men.
“Captain Templeton.” Lady Eugenia gazed at him, her eyelashes fluttering. “You must tell us all about the conflict in the colonies.”
A pretty girl somewhat younger than her brother, she had a merry disposition, and her flirting was harmless. Yet Jamie would remember his station, at least the way these aristocrats might view it, and be pleasantly formal. He had long ago rejected any plans to deflect Lady Marianne’s affections by showing interest in someone else. If he must break her heart and his own, it would not be through deceit.
“You must forgive me, Lady Eugenia.” He bowed to her. “My travels at present do not take me to the troubled areas.”
“But, my good man,” Mr. Highbury said, “surely you hear news of the war…or at least rumors.” An intense look flickered in his eyes, and he leaned toward him.
Jamie smiled and lifted one shoulder in a light shrug. “Sir, the North American continent is vast. An entire war can be fought at one end without a ripple reaching the other.” He observed the disappointment in Highbury’s expression, but could say nothing more. The lad might indeed be sympathetic to the Cause, but his emotions were too much in evidence to invite Jamie’s trust.
“Oh, bother.” Moberly emitted a long sigh. “Must we talk of politics? It is beyond enough that our fathers engage in their tedious debates over such things.”
“I agree, dear brother.” Marianne put one arm around Lady Eugenia’s waist. “For my own part, I have missed dear Genie very much these past months. We simply must have more time together. I think Mama should give a ball. Everyone has been in London since October, and here it is March. Yet she has not done her share of entertaining.”
“Oh, a ball at Bennington House.” Lady Eugenia’s voice trilled with excitement. “Indeed, that would be lovely.”
“Rather,” Mr. Highbury said with a chuckle. “That is, if you don’t think Lord Bennington will cast us out for disloyalty.” He sent Jamie a meaningful look.
Jamie returned a placid smile and looked to Moberly to respond for them. But inwardly, he groaned. In his search for allies, the last thing he needed was a foolish young pup who might ruin everything.
Chapter Seven
“Lord, I trust You to bring them safely home.” Bundled in her warmest woolen dressing gown, Marianne sat by the window of her bedchamber and watched the darkened street two stories below. Her prayer, which she had repeated countless times over the past several hours, soothed her emotions each time anxious thoughts beset her. Why this night was somehow different, she could not guess, but it seemed something sinister hung in the air.
After supper, Jamie had accompanied Robert and his friend Tobias Pincer on their nightly wanderings. Marianne had been hard put not to ask their destination, but such a question would have been beyond propriety. Perhaps they had indeed gone to a rout. In her first season, she had attended one and found it a crushing bore. But other than an occasional supper at the home of some friend, Papa preferred for Mama and her to stay home in the evenings, saying the night was for the devil and his dark deeds. Never mind that much of London’s social life occurred after sunset or that many political compromises were made over a fine supper. This very evening, from Billings House across Grosvenor Square, soft sounds of party merriment reached through Marianne’s slightly open window.
She yawned and snuggled into her wrap to ward off the night chill. Perhaps she was being foolish. But after going to bed she had lain awake for well over an hour, at last rising to light a candle and find comfort in the Scriptures. Her eyes fell on Psalm 27:1. “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” Whether or not Robert sought God’s protection, Jamie would, and in the coal-black streets of London, the Lord would be his light.
Her eyelids grew heavy, and she rested her head against a pillow on the windowsill. A cold breeze sent images of ships floating through her mind, and she dreamed of standing beside Jamie aboard his Fair Winds while the sails filled with wind and carried them to faraway shores.
Sitting up with a jolt, she realized that noise no longer came from the party across the Square, and silence ruled the night. But, no, distant sounds drew nearer. The muted thuds of a horse’s hooves on the dirt street, the rattle of carriage wheels. Hurried whispers. Jamie’s deep voice. And John the footman, who had kept vigil at the front door at Marianne’s request. She shoved the window farther open and leaned out to see a hired hackney driving away and forms disappearing through the front door beneath her.
She dashed from her room and downstairs to meet them in the front entry.
“Milady, ’tis Mr. Moberly.” John’s bushy eyebrows met in a frown as he and Jamie struggled to half carry, half drag Robert into the light of a single candle illuminating the hall.
“Go back to bed, Marianne.” Jamie jerked his head toward the stairway as he knelt and let Robert slump against his chest. “We can manage.”
Jamie’s breath came in deep gasps. Robert lay silent.
“Let me help.” Marianne knelt in front of her brother, whose forehead bore a bloody lump. “What happened?” Did Jamie realize he had not used her title?
“Go upstairs.” Jamie used a stern tone, one that must cause his sailors to quake, but only made her cross.
“I will not. John, take Mr. Moberly into Papa’s library. We can tend him there.” She could see the footman’s hesitation. “Do as I say.”
“Yes, milady.” John sent Jamie an apologetic look.
Still working to catch his breath, Jamie shook his head. “To his bedchamber.”
“No,” Marianne said. “We would have to pass Papa’s door, and he might hear us.”
Now Jamie leaned toward her, and she could see the raw emotion in his eyes. “Madam, it may turn out that Lord Bennington would actually want to have some final words with his son.”
Marianne drew in a sharp breath. She stared down the length of Robert’s drooping form and saw a scarlet stain oozing through a slash on the left side of his yellow waistcoat. “Oh, Robert—” She clamped down on her emotions. Tears would not help him.
Jamie glanced up the wide front staircase and released a weary sigh. “You’re right. To the library, John.”
While Marianne took charge of the candle, the men carried Robert down the dark hallway beside the staircase to Papa’s library. Inside, she pointed. “On the settee.”
“Milady, the blood,” John said.
“Never mind. Mama is planning to redo this room.” Perhaps not soon, but she did redecorate often.
With Robert on the long settee, Jamie fell to his knees beside him, still breathing heavily.
“John, fetch clean rags and water.” Marianne hurried to the hearth for more light, bringing back a candlestick with three candles. She placed it on a table in front of the settee. Robert smelled of sweat and brandy…and blood. “What happened?” She unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt to reveal a one-inch red gash on the left side of his pale, doughy chest. Although it still oozed blood, the color was crimson, not dark as from a deeper wound. Refusing to succumb to the horror of it, she rolled his linen shirttail and pressed it against the cut.
Jamie leaned against the settee arm. “Thank You, Lord. It’s not as deep as I feared.” He shook his head as if to clear it, and studied Robert’s forehead. “This is why he’s unconscious. I feared the stab wound was—”
“Yes. No doubt the blade was aimed at his heart.” Relief soothed Marianne’s ravaged emotions, and she released a few tears. “What happened?” she asked again.
Jamie blinked, as if struggling to focus his eyes. “It is sufficient to say that Moberly’s gambling luck did not follow him into the streets.”
“Footpads?” She could not think anyone would attempt to murder the son of an earl. It must have been true criminals, not bored aristocrats up to no good.
“Aye. And a scurvier bunch I’ve never seen.” He grimaced. “Forgive me.”
She laughed softly. “I am not so fragile that I cannot bear such words. My brothers—”
“Lady Marianne.” Blevins marched into the library wearing his usual black livery, but his sleeping cap instead of his periwig. Behind him, John carried the requested items and more. “Please permit me to attend Mr. Moberly.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Marianne stood and moved back.
Jamie struggled into a nearby chair, grasping his left forearm with his right hand. His blue wool coat was torn in several places and lightly splattered with bloodstains.
“Jamie!” She reached toward his arm, but he pulled it away. “You must let me look at your injury.”
“Just a scratch or two.” His eyes still did not focus. “I’m not injured.” Belying his words, he touched the back of his head and winced. “Not badly, anyway.” He glanced at Blevins and John, who were huddled over Robert, and sent her a warning frown. “Please, my lady, go to bed.”
She settled into a chair next to him. “When I am assured of Robert’s—and your—health, I shall retire. Until then, you will have to endure my company.” She would have given him a mischievous smirk had not Robert been lying there having his side sewn together by the incomparable Blevins.
