Lady Emma's Campaign (3 page)

“What has happened?” Emma cried rushing to them. It seemed certain she must be the reason for such a reaction. Perhaps her unwillingness to settle upon a suitor had been harder on her family than she had considered. “What did Lord Dewhurst say? Was I too dismissive of his offer?” She stood on the carpet in front of them, wringing her hands. “I am sorry; I know I was not as kind to him as I should have been. I promise I’ll make it right. Please, Amelia, do not cry.”

William raised his gaze to meet hers. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his hair was tousled as if he had run his hands through it. He squinted for a moment in confusion. “Lord . . . Oh, yes. He did ask to speak to me. I am sorry I could not receive him today.” He turned his attention back to Amelia, patting her shoulder and whispering words of comfort.

“Then what is wrong, William? Is Amelia ill?”

Instead of answering, William reached for the newspaper that lay on the small table next to the sofa. He swallowed and cleared his throat as he handed it to Emma.

She took it from him and saw that it was folded to the daily list of dead and missing soldiers. Numbness spread from her chest as she looked down the list, knowing what she would see even before she found it:

Captain Sidney Fletcher of the HMS
Venture
killed at Cádiz, Spain. April 25, 1811.

It was nearly a week
later when Emma peeked into the small parlor and saw her mother sitting in her favorite chair next to the window overlooking the garden.

“You look lovely, my dear.” The dowager countess reached to take her hand.

Emma stepped closer, sitting on the stool at her mother’s feet, just as she had when she was younger.

“Are you certain you won’t join us this evening, Mama?”

“I am afraid I still have a bit of a headache. I’m off to bed in a moment. And you young people will have a much more amusing evening without an old lady dogging your steps.”

“You are hardly old. And I would be happy to remain here with you. I don’t know how I can smile and laugh and enjoy myself as if everything is normal.”

“Emma, it has been nearly a week since you were out in society. It will be good for you and William and Amelia to be back among your friends instead of . . .” Lady Charlotte reached to touch Emma’s cheek. “Sidney would not want you all to remain like this. He was always cheerful and full of life.” She sighed. “Trust me, dear. The pain does not last forever.”

Her mother had endured so much in her lifetime, and there were times when it seemed almost as if she closed herself off from emotions. Emma made sure to protect her as much as possible from things that might be upsetting.

“And I would imagine Lord Dewhurst will attend the concert tonight as well.” Lady Charlotte raised her eyebrows and smiled. “We’ve still not spoken of his visit last week . . .” She allowed her voice to trail off, inviting Emma to speak.

After a week of keeping to her room, Emma felt she owed her mother the truth of what had happened in the minutes before learning of Sidney’s death. “Lord Dewhurst made me an offer,” Emma kept her gaze on her mother’s hand. The women had a strong connection, forged through years of her father’s abuse. They had sought comfort and found strength in each other, and it saddened her to think that she might marry and leave her mother’s home to become part of a family she hardly knew and wife to a man she did not love.

“And did you accept him?”

“I told him that I required time to come to a decision.”

“That was wise, my dear.” The Dowager Lady Lockwood placed her other hand over her daughter’s.

“I do not love him, Mama.”

“I know.”

“Yet he would make a good husband. What should I do?”

“Emma, it is for you to decide. I was not given the choice, and I am determined that my only daughter shall not enter into marriage unwillingly.”

“But I had so wanted to marry a man I love.” Emma did not think she could possibly have any tears left, but one still managed to make its appearance and slide down her cheek until her mother brushed it away.

“And now he is gone,” Lady Charlotte said softly.

Emma lifted her gaze to her mother’s face. Had her feelings for Sidney been so very obvious? She wiped away the remainder of the moisture on her cheek and breathed deeply to regain control of her emotions. Emma did not want her mother to see her upset. She stood and wrapped a blanket around Lady Charlotte’s shoulders. “I do wish you would change your mind about this evening.” She pressed a kiss to her mother’s cheek before she turned to leave the parlor.

“Emma, I heard some wise advice once that I believe bears repeating, though I do not remember the words exactly: find a husband who will make you laugh—”

“The sound is too delightful to be wasted on someone who will not appreciate it,” Emma finished quietly. Her eyes burned, and her throat constricted. She left the parlor and walked slowly down the stairs. Was a life with a husband she did not love better than a life alone? She knew she would always have a home with her brother’s family, but the longing for a family of her own, for someone to love her, for
Sidney
was nearly unbearable. She still did not know how she would answer Lord Dewhurst. The letter she’d sent him a week ago simply told him that the family was adjusting to the loss of a close friend and that she would not be able to see him for a few days. It was unfair to expect him to wait indefinitely for her answer. She sighed as she walked down the stairs, still unsure of what to do.

She was surprised that William and Amelia were not waiting for her in the entry hall. Perhaps they were having a difficult time feeling ready to venture back into society as well.

Just as Emma had made up her mind to walk back up the stairs to retrieve them, the door knocker banged—rather loudly.

Emma stepped out of sight into the Morning Room off the entry hall. Who would call at such an hour?

Dawson, the butler hurried past, unaware of her presence, and opened the front door.

Hearing the sound of voices and activity, she peeked through the opening and was taken aback when she saw a group of sailors on the doorstep. A man who was apparently the leader asked to speak to “Captain Drake.”

“His lordship is preparing to leave for the evening,” Dawson said, “But if you would call back tomorrow—”

“It is extremely important, sir. If you would please tell him that Lieutenant Wellard of the HMS
Venture
is—”

“Mr. Wellard.” Emma jumped as William’s voice echoed through the entry hall. She turned to see him striding down the stairs.

Dawson stepped aside, opening the door wide for the men to enter. The sailors crowded into the hall. Two of the officers were dressed in navy blue uniforms, and the other two soldiers wore the red jackets of marines. They were accompanied by a young boy, who could not be older than thirteen.

Emma stepped back into the shadows where she wouldn’t be seen but had a clear view.

William greeted each man by name. “Lieutenant Wellard, Corporal Ashworth, Corporal Thorne, and I see that you’ve received your white lapels, Mr. Fairchild. Congratulations, Lieutenant.” He shook their hands before turning to the boy and clapping him on the shoulder. “And Master Riley. Welcome.” William’s tone was subdued.

Emma imagined it was difficult for him to see his old shipmates, who were also mourning for their captain.

Lieutenant Wellard spoke. “Sir, I apologize for the lateness of the visit. But we felt that it could not wait. We have come about Captain Fletcher.”

Hearing Sidney’s name, Emma felt a fresh wave of tears rush to prickle behind her eyes.

William’s face fell. When he spoke, his voice had taken on a monotone sound. “Yes, I read of it in the
Times
. Thank you for coming yourselves to inform me of his passing.”

“No, sir. It is a mistake.” Riley said. “We need—”

The boy was interrupted by a cry from the top of the stairs. Amelia rushed down into the entry hall. “Corporal Ashworth! Riley!” She embraced each of the men in turn. “What a wonderful surprise. Please, come up to the drawing room. Dawson, have Mrs. Hatfield send tea and cakes for our guests.”

The lieutenant looked to William, who nodded, and the group made their way up the stairs.

Emma followed, curious about the visitors, and even more curious about their news. What had the boy, Riley, meant when he said it was a mistake? Was he referring to Sidney? Was there more information concerning his death? When she stepped into the drawing room, the men stood, and Amelia motioned for her to join them.

“Please, may I introduce my sister, Lady Emma Drake,” William said.

Emma nodded to the men and then quickly took a seat near Amelia.

Mrs. Hatfield delivered tea, and Emma and Amelia set about pouring and distributing cups and plates.

William did not wait for the guests to be served their refreshment. “Let us dispense with the formalities. What news do you bring?”

Lieutenant Wellard began to speak again. “Sir, we have come for your help. We believe Captain Fletcher is not dead.”

Emma jolted, and she quickly set down the cup that she had been about to hand to William as her hand started to shake. She blinked and pressed her lips together to keep from crying out. Could the others hear her heart pommeling in her chest?

Lieutenant Wellard continued, “When it was discovered that the numbers of French troops stationed at Cádiz were being reduced as more and more departed—”

“Yes, to assist with the siege of Badajoz,” William interrupted. He nodded and rotated his hand, indicating for the lieutenant to speed up his account.

“A relief army was sent to Tarifa to attack the French lines from the rear. We were part of the campaign under Sir Thomas Graham, and we found ourselves marching to Fort Matagorda on the Trocadero Peninsula near Cádiz. As the battle progressed, we were commanded to fall back to the town of Chiclana, tend to the wounded, and reassess our strategy. Captain Fletcher was unaccounted for and assumed either dead or captured.”

“But I saw him taken.” Riley’s words burst forth in a rush he’d likely been holding back since his arrival. “Captain Fletcher was with me on the battlefield. He was covering my escape, sir, when he was cut off from the remainder of our company and relieved of his weapons. They surrounded him and took him into the French fort at gunpoint.”

Emma’s stomach turned over. The image of Sidney struggling while being dragged by French soldiers into a building with metal armaments arose in her mind. She blinked, remembering herself, and returned to the task of serving the tea.

“An inquiry was made, of course.” Lieutenant Wellard nodded his thanks to Emma as she handed him a cup and saucer. “But we were told there was no prisoner by that name.”

Amelia pressed both hands to her mouth, and William put his arm around her shoulders. “And what of your new captain? Was he informed of this? Did he not investigate?” William bit off each question.

Lieutenant Fairchild folded his arms in front of his chest and lowered his eyebrows. “The acting Captain Mitchell is . . . reluctant to look into the matter.”

“You believe that he does not wish to locate Captain Fletcher, as it would not only reflect badly upon him for not doing so sooner but restore him to his former office of first lieutenant.” William’s scowl matched the lieutenant’s.

“Sir, I cannot assume such a thing without being accused of disloyalty to my commanding officer,” Lieutenant Fairchild said. “However, if
you
were to assume it, I would not find myself inclined to argue with you.”

Emma held her hand to her throat. Her mind swam, questions tumbling over one another. Was Sidney really alive? If so, was he injured? Ill? Had he been tortured? And why was there no record of his imprisonment? How was it possible that his own men could not find him?

“We have even spoken to my uncle, the Duke of Southampton, who appealed to the Lords of the Admiralty for a more formal investigation to be opened,” said the tall, gangly Corporal Ashworth. “But without a ransom demand or evidence that he is indeed a prisoner, they declare that there is nothing they can do. We have run out of options. The commander of our fleet, Admiral Griffin, suggested that, as the matter cannot be officially pursued by the navy, we should speak to you.”

Riley set his plate on the table next to him and leaned forward. “Captain Drake, we must return to Spain. We cannot abandon Captain Fletcher, and you are the only one who can rescue—Do you have access to a ship?”

William’s agitation apparently became too much to contain. He rose and began to pace around the room.

Emma wished propriety would allow her to join him.

“Lieutenant Wellard”—William stopped and turned back toward them on the heel of his boot—“how long are you in port?”

“At least a month, Captain.”

William was silent a moment longer before he resumed his pacing. “I do have a ship, a clipper. She is berthed in Greenwich but could be made ready to sail in a matter of days. We could reach Spain within a week.” He turned to the men. “How fast can you gather a crew?”

William and his shipmates immediately began to plan the rescue mission. They would meet at Greenwich in two days and sail at high tide.

Emma’s heart pounded as she leaned her head back against the chair. The idea that Sidney could be alive made her shaky and lightheaded. It was nearly too much to hope that William and these soldiers would reach Spain and find him. Was it possible that he was whole and well? She felt as if her chest were being squeezed in a clamp when she thought of Sidney spending months in an enemy prison.

As the men continued to plan, Emma’s fingers traced the jade flowers on her wrist. She would be forced to remain in London, pretending to enjoy the festivities of the Season, while her heart would be across the sea with William and his sailors. How could she possibly bear the wait?

And while she hoped for news about Sidney, the dilemma of Lord Dewhurst would remain. He would not be content to wait another month for her answer. It had already been more than a week since he’d asked for her hand. But could she in good conscience accept him when, at this very moment, Sidney could be languishing in a prison? And just the possibility that Sidney could be alive was no guarantee that he would return home with William and fall into her arms. She thought of Amelia and her journey upon a naval frigate when William had escorted her to England from Jamaica.

She
had done it. So why not Emma?

As the men concluded their visit and took their leave of her, Emma remained in the drawing room while Amelia and William accompanied them into the entry hall. She heard the front door close and walked to the top of the stairs, but when she heard William and Amelia talking, she stepped back, not wanting to intrude.

“Absolutely not,” William said.

“But it is
Sidney
. If there is even a small chance of finding him alive, I cannot sit home and wait, left behind like a helpless child while you—”

“It is not an option, Amelia. I will not take you to a battlefield. Do not even entertain the idea.”

“Is there a chance that he could be alive?”

“There’s no way of knowing. The circumstances are not normal. The enemy obviously does not realize who he is or arrangements for his ransom would have been made. He must have his own reasons for concealing his identity. I fear it will not be easy to find him, let alone rescue him.”