CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Philip couldn’t help admiring Miss Mayson’s determination to do what was right even when she was terrified. What an admirable girl she was. Mr. Ratley didn’t deserve her even on his best day—even if he weren’t an easily led, lawless insurrectionist.
She was also quite lovely, her eyes shining with residual tears. Every instinct urged him to protect her, but so much was at stake. Protecting her could lead to mistakes, and a mistake could cost him his mission, the respect of his colleagues, and public humiliation, not to mention his life and the lives of others.
And yet, he owed her so much.
“Thank you for this key. Since Lady Blackstone’s rides are usually of short duration, and she’ll probably not be with her falcons for long, I’ll wait until another time to use it. But I do want to thank you for saving me from getting caught in Lady Blackstone’s room last night. I owe you my life.”
“Well, you saved me when I fainted and carried me into my room. Thank you for being a gentleman.”
“It was my pleasure. I mean . . .” It was his pleasure, but he shouldn’t say that. “What I mean is, I am glad I was there to help.”
She smiled. “I don’t know what I would have done if you had not been here to find my letter and destroy it. What would they have done if they had read it?”
“Probably locked you in your room or at least forbade you from leaving the house. You would have probably been subjected to constant indoctrination of their beliefs.” Or they would have killed her.
She nodded.
“But now we must concentrate on getting this information before their revolution begins. We probably only have three or four weeks.”
The look on her face said that a few weeks seemed like a long time—too long. And he agreed. They needed to work fast, before Ratley forced her to marry him.
“With your permission,” Philip said, “I shall hide the key until there is a good opportunity to use it.”
“Of course.”
Some of the tension seemed to leave her shoulders. She looked down at his wadded handkerchief in her hands.
“You would not want your fiancé to find my handkerchief in your possession.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. She handed the wet handkerchief back to him. “Forgive me for crying and soiling it.”
“No harm done. It can be washed.” He smiled as he shoved it into his pocket. “My sister embroidered my initials on it, which also match my assumed name.”
“That was very clever.” She clasped hands and rose from her stool. “I should go back to my room. I told Mr. Ratley I had a headache and that I might come down to retrieve a book.”
He stood. “Of course. I hope you are not having too much trouble fending off that gentleman’s advances.” It was a delicate subject, and he probably should not ask, but . . . he wanted to know.
“I . . . no, not too much trouble. But I am glad I have hope—that this will all be over soon.” She seemed to shake her thoughts away and smiled, meeting his eye. “But the answer to your question is no. Mr. Ratley is not as much of an ogre as he might be.”
She was trying to put on a brave face. As she put her hand on the doorknob, he touched her shoulder. She turned to look at him.
What could he say? Be careful? Don’t be afraid to scream if he refuses to listen to protest?
“I will be careful not to betray myself or you,” she said, mistaking his thoughts. “Please let me know if I can assist you in any way.”
“Thank you, Miss Mayson.”
As he stared into her determined but vulnerable face, Philip ached to promise that he would protect her. But he couldn’t do anything that would endanger the mission. Those words sickened him, even as he left them unsaid.
She gave him a slight smile and left the room.
Felicity was taking her morning walk the next day when she decided to change into her riding clothes.
She came back out of the house and walked toward the stable, thinking she might ask one of the grooms to accompany her on a short ride. If she could develop a habit of riding every day, she might figure out a way to escape, or at least ride to a nearby town to send a letter.
She was just entering the stable when she heard voices coming from farther in. Lady Blackstone said something, then Mr. Ratley answered.
Felicity slipped into the first stall, which happened to be empty, and listened, concentrating to make out the words.
“Don’t you think we can trust her?” she heard Mr. Ratley ask.
“Felicity?” Lady Blackstone said. “Trust is something we can’t afford. You know that.”
Felicity’s breath came fast and shallow upon hearing her name.
“But do I still think you should marry her? Yes,” Lady Blackstone continued. “She can’t testify against you if she’s married to you. Besides, she’s such a timid little thing, afraid to speak up or own an opinion. She’ll make you a good wife, and she won’t make any trouble. That is easy enough to see.”
Felicity’s cheeks burned. Did people really have such thoughts about her? She clenched her fists.
She reminded herself to keep listening.
Mr. Ratley said something that Felicity couldn’t quite make out. Then Lady Blackstone said, “Sooner is better. You don’t want her deciding she doesn’t want to marry you. Then things will get very messy.”
“She says she can’t marry unless her father approves. She wants me to go meet with him.”
“No. Out of the question. You cannot leave, and there is no time. She wants her father’s approval, then we will give it to her, in a letter.”
Felicity flushed even hotter. She tried to force herself to keep listening, but Mr. Ratley’s voice was too low. She thought she heard Lady Blackstone say, “. . . in a week.”
Then, more clearly, she said, “I wish to go on my ride.”
“I will go find Felicity.”
“I saw her in the garden earlier, but then she went inside.”
They mumbled a few more words, and Felicity stepped up on a bucket in the corner of the stall so no one walking by would see her feet under the door. She crouched down, making herself as small as possible.
Footsteps came nearer, then passed by. As she waited for Lady Blackstone to leave with her horse, Felicity felt herself fuming at the things she and Mr. Ratley had said about her. Timid. Afraid to speak up or have an opinion. Would never make trouble. They might just be surprised at how much trouble she could make.
But then again . . . she had not yet done anything of much merit. They had not even been able to get what information they did have to the Home Office.
Finally, she heard sounds of a horse passing by her stall. She waited another minute or two, just to be sure Lady Blackstone was gone, and she opened the door and came out. No one seemed to be around, so she walked through, looking at the horses in their stalls. Most of them observed her placidly from giant brown eyes.
Felicity had never been much of a rider. She was rather afraid of horses, but she remembered Lady Blackstone’s words about her and straightened her spine.
A groom came in carrying tack and a saddle. He hung them up and greeted her.
“Would you saddle a horse for me?” Felicity said. “I’d like to go for a short ride.”
“Sorry, miss.” He shook his head. “Lady Blackstone don’t allow anyone to ride without her express permission. The lady’s orders.”
She might have known. How else could she keep anyone from leaving and passing unauthorized letters and messages to the outside world?
The groom exited the stable, leaving her alone with her swirling thoughts.
A minute or two later, Mr. Merrick entered the stable. He stopped, fixing his gaze on her.
“I was hoping to go for a ride, but I was informed I must get permission from Lady Blackstone.”
“Yes, that is one of her rules.”
“I don’t suppose she will give me her permission.”
“Probably not, not without her or Mr. Ratley going along on the ride. I have permission only to exercise my horse. I’m not allowed to go far.” He was looking very rugged in his riding clothes, his buckskins and black riding boots. His bright-blue eyes sparkled even while they maintained a serious expression.
She stepped closer to him and said in a low voice, “I heard them talking about me.”
He focused an intense look on her face.
“They don’t particularly trust me, but they intend for me to marry him quickly. I cannot testify against Mr. Ratley if we are married.”
“You must put him off. Don’t agree to the marriage.” He took a step toward her, now only about a foot away. “Think of excuses to postpone the wedding until later.”
“Believe me, I shall try.” But what would she do if they refused to accept her excuses? If they pressed her to marry him or even threatened her? She refrained from asking those questions of Mr. Merrick. After all, she was not his responsibility. Besides that, she didn’t want to sound . . . desperate? Afraid? Timid?
No, she would not prove them right about her.
Mr. Merrick had already seen her faint and had seen her cry. He might think her even more weak and incapable than Mr. Ratley and Lady Blackstone thought her. And yet . . . Mr. Merrick had told her she was brave.
“I should let you saddle your horse.” She took a step back, suddenly very aware of how close they were standing.
“Miss Mayson,” he said, but then someone entered through the door of the stable, and he took a step back and turned.
Mr. Ratley stopped just inside. Staring at them.
“It looks as though I am interrupting . . .”
“Mr. Ratley,” Mr. Merrick said, not seeming the least bit alarmed, though Felicity’s heart was beating at double its normal pace.
Without bothering to explain, Mr. Merrick stepped toward a saddle on the wall nearby.
“I came into the stable,” Felicity said, “to look at the horses. I thought I might also go for a ride, but the groom informed me that I need Lady Blackstone’s permission. And then Mr. Merrick came in, and I was asking him about the good riding trails nearby, thinking after Lady Blackstone gives her permission, you and I might go for a ride.”
She bit her lip, wishing she had not suggested that. Her fiancé’s kisses were hard enough to fend off in the house. How much worse would it be if they took a ride together unaccompanied? Not to mention the fact that it was all a lie. She was becoming skilled at thinking up a good lie.
Mr. Ratley’s expression changed as a smile spread over his face. “I don’t think we need ask Lady Blackstone’s permission if you go with me. But I thought you didn’t like horses.”
“I like them well enough. I feel the need for some fresh air.”
Mr. Ratley went to get a groom to saddle their horses while Mr. Merrick was nearly finished saddling his. Felicity watched as a bit of sun broke through the clouds and warmed Mr. Merrick’s hair while he tightened the horse’s cinch strap. He then patted the gelding’s neck and spoke softly to him.
Mr. Ratley came back with two stable workers who began saddling their horses. Meanwhile, Mr. Merrick mounted his horse and rode away.
If Mr. Ratley did not like her objections to his kisses, Felicity could use the excuse that Lady Blackstone and Mr. Merrick were also out riding. They wouldn’t be entirely alone.
She asked a groom for his assistance getting onto her horse while Mr. Ratley was distracted. He seemed disappointed when he looked around and saw her already in the saddle.
“Let us go, then.” He mounted, and they started off onto a trail that led away from the garden.
Her horse, a mare that Mr. Ratley promised was gentle, balked and pulled to the right. She pulled on the reins gently, but the mare shook her head and kept going right.
Felicity’s brother had told her once, You don’t like horses because you’re too timid to show them you are the master. You have to take a firm hand with them. Then they’ll respect you.
Fear rose in her throat, but she clenched her teeth and pulled harder on the reins, just as Mr. Ratley called over his shoulder, “Are you coming?”
The mare finally obeyed her and pointed her nose toward the trail, following behind Mr. Ratley’s gelding.
Philip pushed Felicity Mayson from his thoughts yet again and tried to concentrate. The other men had told him a stash of guns was nearby, in an underground grotto between Doverton Hall and the sea. They said it was a strange cave Lady Blackstone had showed them. The walls were all covered in colorful shells that had been deliberately placed to form flowers and sunbursts and other decorative patterns.
Not only did Philip need to know the location of the weapons, but he was curious to see the place.
He made his way through the trees and the scrubby bushes, leaving the riding trail behind. He came upon some grazing pastureland and, giving his horse a running start, had him leap the fence.
He dismounted and looked all around the field. It was well grazed, and he had to watch his step to avoid the sheep dung. Finally, he spotted a broad, flat board lying on the ground with a footpath leading up to it before ending abruptly. Could this be the entrance to the cave?
He heard voices, one female and one male, coming from the riding trail he had just left.
He took his horse’s reins and hurried back toward the trees.
Felicity had to pull harder on the reins than she wanted to, more than once, as she followed Mr. Ratley along the trail. Why had she suggested going for a ride? She could barely get the horse to do what she wanted. Still, she tried to sound confident and comfortable as she engaged her fiancé in a conversation that might serve some purpose.
“So, Oliver, when will our revolution begin?” She was proud of herself for thinking to call it “our” revolution.
“You are not worrying about me, are you?” He glanced back at her with an amused smile.
“No, I’d just like to know, so that I’m not caught by surprise.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any harm in telling you.” He swayed with the movements of his horse as they ambled slowly—at least she could be thankful for their slow gait.
“In May, we will distribute in all the major cities the leaflets we’ve been printing, to as many people as we can.”
“Leaflets?”
“Yes, and some longer pamphlets too. Mr. Cartwright is quite good at writing essays that motivate and inspire. And we have our own printing press in the outbuilding beside the gardener’s shed, where Lady Blackstone has some servants employed in printing them. They’ve been working twelve hours a day for weeks now.”
Mr. Merrick probably knew this, but she needed to be sure and tell him in case he didn’t.
“I see. And then what?”
“Then, probably in May, we will target the army and the home guards, convince them that the government is so corrupt they need no longer feel any allegiance to it or to the king. After all, a king whose government is so unfair and unjust has forfeited his right to rule. If we can get the army and militia on our side, we shall be unstoppable.”
Felicity smiled as though the idea was a happy one.
“Meanwhile, we shall join with our supporters in London, who will assassinate the Members of Parliament, the king’s advisors, and . . . well, you probably don’t want to hear these particulars.”
“And this will happen in May?”
“Yes. We plan to act fast once we begin. Better to strike quickly.”
“When will you and the others have to leave here?”
“Probably the first of May. Lady Blackstone wants us all in place ahead of time. We’ll be so spread out, the authorities won’t possibly know where all of us are. And frankly, I don’t think anyone outside our group has any idea what is about to happen. Lady Blackstone is so clever, she has made sure to keep our activities very quiet.”
“Yes, Lady Blackstone is quite clever.”
“She is indeed. But it could be dangerous. It is likely we could even lose a few men.”
She should probably pretend more interest in Mr. Ratley’s welfare and ask where he would be and his role in the revolution. Instead, she rode on in silence, turning her attention to staying on the horse’s back.
“Here is a romantic spot I’ve been wanting to show you, but I had to wait for Lady Blackstone’s approval.” He had stopped to open the gate to a sheep pasture, then led his horse on foot while she and her horse followed. He halted in front of a large rectangle-shaped piece of wood lying on the ground.
Mr. Ratley came to stand beside her. “I have brought you to the shell grotto.”
“The shell grotto?”
“Yes. Wouldn’t you like to get down from your horse and explore it with me?”
She did not like the look in his eye. O God, cannot you help me avoid kissing him? I do not think I can bear it. “Won’t it be dark inside?”
“I think it will be light enough.” He bent and took hold of the large piece of wood and shoved. He seemed to have some difficulty with it but slowly pushed it several feet, uncovering a hole. Next, he walked several feet away and removed a tree branch, revealing another smaller hole. Were those holes to be the only light? Although she was quite curious to see the shell grotto, being in a dark, close space alone with Mr. Ratley did not appeal to her.
“I would prefer to come back another time with a group of people,” she said.
“But we are here now, and we don’t know when we might be able to gather a group to come with us. And we can’t go home now. We have not been riding more than fifteen minutes. Come.” He reached for her.
“I’m afraid my horse might run away. Besides, we are all alone out here. If someone were to come along and see that we were in the grotto, they might think we were improper.”
“Darling, the horse will not run away, and we are engaged to be married. What does it matter if someone thinks we’ve been improper?”
She could think of no other excuses, so she let him help her off the horse.