Chapter Thirteen
Henrietta woke to sunlight brightening the cabin. She stretched and looked down over the edge of the berth. Below, Verity slept with an arm thrown above her head. She really was pretty. No wonder Papa liked her. And brave, Henrietta thought. She must have fallen asleep before Verity was in bed. Her clothes were in a bundle on top of the trunk. Perhaps she didn’t want to disturb her, Verity usually took care of her few clothes.
Henrietta put a foot on the ladder and climbed down. She picked up the voluminous black and silver gown and shook it out. A bottle fell out. She uncorked it and sniffed. It smelled like cloves. Laudanum. Her aunt took it for headache. Might Verity suffer them? Odd that the bottle was empty. Verity’s cloak slipped to the floor with a clunk. Henrietta bent and plunged her hand in the pocket. Her fingers closed over cold steel. She pulled out a pistol, gasped, and turned the gun over in her hand. Verity had made no mention of it. Henrietta’s stomach churned. What did she know about this woman? She’d taken her at face value and trusted her. But really, should she?
When half asleep during the night she thought she’d heard a door close. Had Verity left the cabin? Where did she go? Henrietta bit her lip. She’d been naïve to place such faith in Verity. The gypsy had said: Be warned. There is someone in your future you will want to trust, but you must not. And another, whom you feel you cannot, but for your life you must. Henrietta spun around. Which applied to her?
“I hope you slept well, Henrietta.” Verity sat up and stretched with a yawn. “What do you have there?”
“A pistol, I believe, mademoiselle.” Henrietta held it out.
* * *
Henrietta’s eyes were filled with reproach.
Verity sighed and slipped from the bunk. She held her hand out palm up. “I believe that is mine, si vous plaît.” Her head ached. She’d drunk too much champagne and the struggle with Ramsbotham left her frightened and exhausted. And she had more work to do to convince him they’d enjoyed a night of passion. Now, she must also deal with Henrietta.
Henrietta scowled but handed it over. “Why didn’t you tell me you had the pistol?”
Verity tucked it in her reticule. “And let you brandish it about? Perhaps shoot Ramsbotham? I thought not. It was safer not to.”
“I heard you leave the cabin last night. Where did you go?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I needed fresh air.”
The young woman nodded, then shrugged. “I feel the same. I’m not sure I can stay in this tiny cabin a moment longer.”
Verity looked out the porthole. “We’ve made wonderful time. There’s the French coastline. We should reach land in a few hours.”
Henrietta grinned. “Then our adventure really begins.”
Verity had had enough adventures for a lifetime. “Let’s have breakfast. You must be hungry.”
“Famished.”
“Trés bon. Let’s dress and go to the salon.”
Henrietta scowled. “Should I come? Won’t Lord Ramsbotham be there?”
“Perhaps. Oui, come.” Verity was confident that even if the marquess appeared, he would be in no condition to seduce Henrietta.
“I am sorry I left you to cope with him.”
“He’s not such a bad man,” Verity said steeling her features.
“You told him nothing of our plans?”
Verity shook her head. “Of course not.”
“Good.” Henrietta rummaged in the trunk and drew her page’s breeches on under her nightgown. “I look forward to dressing as a woman again. These clothes have begun to itch.”
Verity smiled at the slim young woman’s naturalness and beauty. Anthony must be very proud of her. A swift pain of anguish tightened her chest. Despite Ramsbotham failing to carry out his objective, she felt despoiled and unworthy of a good man like Anthony’s love. She drew in a slow steady breath. She must be strong. There would be far worse to come.
In the salon, the butler seated them at the table set with white linen, silverware, and fine china. While they sipped chocolate served from a silver pot, Ramsbotham appeared, looking remarkably fresh. He eyed her sharply. “Good morning, Madame.”
He cast an eye over Henrietta as he sat. “How are we this fine morning?” His coat was of ice blue taffeta and mulberry embroidery, with a froth of lace at the neck. The massive diamond sparkled on his finger as he spread the linen napkin over his lap.
Verity smiled. “Je vais bien, merci.”
Henrietta leaned over her plate shoveling bread into her mouth.
“Your page has a good appetite,” he said with a hard stare.
Verity nodded. “Pierre has recovered from his sea-sickness.”
Ramsbotham pursed his full lips, running his gaze over Henrietta’s slim body in her page boy’s garb. “I appreciate a good appetite.”
Verity moved uneasily on her chair. “How long before we reach Le Havre?” she asked to deflect him.
He sipped his brandy. “You are eager to leave us?”
“Eager to complete my journey, oui.”
“You go to directly to Rouen? My coach is at your disposal.”
“Merci, my lord. That is not necessary.”
“No trouble. Rouen is but a small detour.”
Verity bit her lip. Henrietta flashed a warning glance at her. “I am to be met at Le Havre,” Verity said.
He raised his brows. “Oh? You failed to mention that when we were together last night.”
Henrietta’s mouth tightened.
“You must not concern yourself with my travel arrangements, my lord,” Verity said.
“Oh, but I do. Your plans concern me… intimately.”
“I am grateful for your consideration, but have no need of assistance.”
Ramsbotham picked up his knife and fork with a satisfied look. “We shall see.” He attacked the devilled kidneys the butler placed before him. The man was tougher than boot leather.
Verity pushed put down her napkin and rose. “Please excuse me. We must pack.”
He reached across and grabbed her wrist. “Send your page. I should like company while I eat. Surely, you cannot deny me that.”
Verity signaled for Henrietta to leave. “Pack, Pierre.”
After enduring a clumsy kiss, Verity returned to the cabin, scrubbing her mouth with a handkerchief.
“Here you are.” Henrietta eyed her, thumped the trunk lid closed and went to the porthole. She squinted into the glare. “I can make out buildings and trees along the shore. We’ll land in a few hours. What do we do then?”
“First, we must inquire after your father.”
“How are we to avoid the marquess? He seems intent on taking us with him.”
Verity shook her head. “Leave him to me.”
“We can hire a vehicle for our trunk. Then drive to the village.”
Verity rubbed a hand over her forehead. “I’ve never driven a carriage and I doubt you have either.”
Henrietta brightened. “No, but I expect I’ll manage it.”
Verity eyed her with a troubled frown. “I wish I was more confident of that.”
The hours passed. To Verity’s relief, she and Henrietta were left alone. She wondered if the marquess was suffering the after-effects of the laudanum.
Two hours later, a cry came from above, and a bell rang out.
Henrietta rushed to the porthole. She turned, her eyes dancing with excitement. “We’re here!”
The boat dropped anchor. Scurrying footsteps sounded overhead.
A heavy tread came down the passage and someone knocked at the door.
“Who is it?” Verity called.
The door was flung open. The burly sailor stood there. “I’m to take yer luggage. His lordship wants you in the salon.”
Verity sucked in a breath. “I shall follow in a moment.”
As the sailor’s broad back disappeared up the passageway with their trunk, Verity took the pistol from her reticule and slipped it into the pocket of her cloak. She pushed the bag into Henrietta’s hands. “You speak tolerable French. Find the harbor master and ask for papers. You cannot travel under your own name. Make them out to Henri Garnier. And ask after your father. Then you must arrange for the trunk to be taken to the smithy. You’ll find his business lies at the top of the hill above the harbor. Hire whatever vehicle you can and wait for me. Give me an hour or two, if I don’t come, go without me, or better still, get on the first boat back to England.”
Henrietta gasped. “Why can’t you come with me now?”
“I have unfinished business here.”
“You need the pistol for that? I don’t like it. I’ll come with you.”
Verity gave her a gentle shove. “Please, Henrietta, I need you to do this. Just go.”
***
Henrietta reluctantly left the ship and went in search of the harbor master having realized the importance of following Verity’s instructions. While he filled out her papers, she inquired after her father. The man shook his head as he handed her the authority. “You lost your master, boy?”
She lowered her head. “Left me behind when I got sick. Paid me passage and told me to follow ’im. ’is lordship’s a tall Englishman with brown ’air.”
The man nodded. “Ah, oui, I remember him. Passed through a few days back. Arrived on a trade ship. He has not come back this way. Might you be looking for a new master, boy? I may be able to find one for you.”
A sailor came to claim the harbor master’s attention, and Henrietta slipped away.
She walked back to the schooner. Their trunk sat on the wharf. There was no sign of Verity. Henrietta’s heart gave a lurch of dread. Onboard the boat, the hefty sailor stowed the sails. “Like to earn a shilling? A big fellow like you will have no trouble carrying the trunk up the hill.”
With a nod, he leapt down onto the wharf to her.
***
Verity entered the salon. The marquess was barking orders at a sailor. He hurried out, leaving she and Ramsbotham alone. He looked her over. “You are ready to leave?”
Verity curtseyed. “Oui, my lord. I wish to thank you for your generous hospitality.”
He cocked a brow. “I trust you enjoyed our night together?”
“Indeed. You’re such an inventive lover.” She placed a hand on her forehead. “But I have a headache. We drank too much champagne.”
“I remember the charming shape of your derriere and cannot wait to view it again. But I confess my memory of our last hours together is somewhat hazy. Can you tell me what it was that you most enjoyed?”
She smiled coyly and tapped him on the arm with her fan. “La! A lady does not talk of such things. Except to remind you of how long you were able to pleasure me, my lord.” She gave a small crow of delight. “I’ve never been so… stirred.”
He smiled. His conceit would never allow him to doubt her. “Perhaps I should thank you, for a welcome night’s distraction. This journey is often tedious. But why must we say goodbye? You shall travel with me to Rouen, during which, we can further our charming relationship. Without so much wine, my prowess in the bedchamber is considerably better, I promise you.”
“I’m sorry, but I must go...”
As she turned to go, he grabbed her arm, his fingers digging into her flesh. “You said you were to be met…” He drew her to the porthole and gazed out at the wharf. “I don’t see—”
Verity pulled away. “It would be wise to let me go, my lord.”
His eyes narrowed. “I should like to meet your friends. Please introduce me.”
Verity slipped the pistol from her pocket. She dug him in the ribs.
Ramsbotham’s eyes widened. He backed away and raised his hands. “You would shoot me? That’s not very grateful.”
“I’ve no desire to shoot you, my lord. Let me go and there will be no more trouble.”
“One cry from me and my men will arrive. Disastrous for you if I accused you of stealing from me.”
Verity held the pistol steady. “You would have no chance to enjoy it. You will be dead before they arrive. I’ve nothing to lose.”
Ramsbotham swallowed as he eyed the gun. Sweat broke out on his brow. “You do appear determined. You intrigue me, Mademoiselle Garnier. One might wonder just what your game is. Go then.” He waved her away. “We’ll meet again. Next time, the advantage will be mine.”
With her free hand, Verity gathered up her skirts and backed toward the door. “I doubt it. You have your own problems, do you not? I would hasten with all speed to your chateau, my lord. Or what is left of it?”
With her pistol aimed at the middle of the marquess’ chest, Verity removed the key from the salon door and stepped out into the corridor. She locked the door, pocketed the pistol, and left the boat with a cheery wave at the sailors. She tossed the key into the water. As she ran away, she could hear the marquess banging, his cries muffled. It would take them a while to reach him.
* * *
Henrietta hiked up the road with the sailor behind her. At the crest of the hill was a sign, horses for hire outside the blacksmith’s shop. Two nondescript animals grazed in a nearby paddock.
After she pressed a coin into the sailor’s big paw, she walked into a blast of heat from the furnace. The blacksmith bent over his anvil and delivered a ringing blow to a horseshoe.
“I require a carriage for my mistress.”
He threw down his hammer and wiped his hands. “Just hacks for hire.”
She pointed to the trunk. “Can’t carry this on a horse. Our carriage hasn’t turned up. Probably laid up down the road with a broken wheel.” She turned to view the yard. “What about that?”
He scratched his head. “My cart?”
“And a horse to pull it.”
“It will cost you.” He held up five fingers. “You have someone to drive it?”
Henrietta straightened. “Me, monsieur.”
He chuckled. “A scrawny chap like you?”
She scowled. “My mistress trusts me.”
He eyed the handful of coins she held out and shrugged. “Damage my property, and your mistress will pay. How long do you want it for? Where do you go?”
“Only until we find our carriage, monsieur. Your property will be returned to you.”
“Agreed. If you pay an extra five centimes bond.”
Henrietta doubted the horse and cart was worth that much. “You drive a hard bargain, monsieur.” She counted out the coins and dropped them into his dirty palm.
He counted them again. “Wait here. I’ll get the horse.”
Henrietta eyed the dispirited bow-backed nag the smithy led out the gate. She watched as he attached the breast collar and harness to the narrow-shouldered horse, then backed it into the shafts of the dusty cart and attached the traces. It seemed easy enough. She would manage. The prospect of finding her father buoyed her. That was all that mattered.
* * *
Verity she ran all the way up the hill. At the top, she looked back to see the sailors swarming over the deck as they rushed to the marquess’ aid.
Holding the reins, Henrietta sat on the seat of a dirty cart, a tired-looking horse pulling at the grass. Their trunk was in the back.
“Well done, Henrietta.” With a glance to ensure they weren’t followed, she clambered up beside the young woman. “From now on we speak only French. You must perfect your accent should we go to Paris.”
“Walk on, you old nag.” Henrietta released the brake and slapped the reins. She grinned at Verity, as the cart, lurching dangerously, rolled over a shallow ditch and out onto the road.
Verity’s eyes widened, and she clung to the side. “French, Henrietta,” she said in a faint voice.