Lady Emma's Campaign (4 page)

William lowered his voice, “Amelia, I know you could do this. You are my brave shipmate.” Emma imagined him touching Amelia’s cheek tenderly or kissing her hand. “But in your . . . condition. I am sorry; I will not risk it.”

“You are right, of course.” Amelia’s voice was soft. “But I shall worry about you.”

“I do not expect to be gone longer than three weeks. Surely you will find plenty to occupy yourself with my mother and Emma in that short time.” William’s voice lightened. He obviously wanted to change the topic.

“Attending champagne breakfasts and piano concerts will not distract me enough from missing my husband and worrying every moment about your safety. But I understand.” Amelia’s voice was resigned but still carried a note of petulance.

“I will need to send a missive immediately to the shipyard,” William said.

“I shall find a nice book to read in the parlor until you are finished. And then I would like to go to bed. All of this excitement has quite worn me out.”

Emma moved into the parlor and waited for Amelia to join her. She wished again that she could pace about the room—her nerves were quite close to becoming completely unraveled—but she steeled herself and, balling her fists in her lap, took a deep breath. This was her only chance.

Amelia entered the room and spotted her. “Emma, I am sorry about the concert. In all the excitement, it completely slipped my mind . . .”

Emma put up a hand to stop her. “I must go to Spain.” She rushed through the words while she still had the courage to say them. “Will you help me?”

“Emma,” Amelia sank onto a divan and patted the seat next to her. Amelia’s eyes were tired and her face drawn. “I know you are fond of Sidney—”

Emma sat beside her. “I am in love with him.” Her heart lurched as she actually said the words aloud. “I have been in love with him since I was eleven years old.”

Amelia’s face softened. “Emma, I consider you every bit my sister. I care for you, and I understand. Truly I do, but I cannot in good conscience allow such a thing. And William certainly will not.”

“William cannot know. Please, Amelia. I am determined to go. I must. If I were to conceal myself aboard his ship . . .”

Amelia shook her head.

“Your experience, your adventure changed you, as you have told me often. How can you deny me this?” Emma nearly choked on the lump that was swelling in her throat. Her voice was getting higher, but she did not care. “Am I expected to remain here and marry a man I do not love when Sidney could be out there alive?”

“You have no idea what you’d face,” Amelia said. “Nothing I tell you could come close to describing the horrors of war.”

“But I shall be with William. He will protect me.”

Amelia opened her mouth, but Emma kept speaking. “Please, Amelia. You must understand. I want what you have with my brother. This is my last chance to discover whether . . .” The look on Amelia’s face made Emma realize that she would not be moved. “I am sorry to have put you in this position. I thought, out of everyone, you would understand.” Emma squared her shoulders and brushed away her tears with shaking hands. “My mind is quite made up. I will go with or without your help.” She stood and turned to leave. Amelia’s refusal to assist her was a blow, but she would find another way. Perhaps she could dress as a man and—

Her thoughts were cut short by Amelia’s hand on her arm.

Amelia blew out her breath. “Emma, I do not agree with this, but if you are resolved to go through with it, let’s do it right.”

Emma stepped out of the
carriage, gazing across the shipyard before she turned her attention back to the high masts of the clipper that rose above them: the
Lady Jamaica.
Her mouth instantly went dry. She followed Amelia and William across the pier and up the swaying gangplank, attempting to keep her face from revealing the apprehension that was tumbling about her insides.

The marines, officers, and sailors alike saluted as the boatswain whistled, announcing the captain’s arrival.

William gave the women a quick tour of the vessel, and while they walked through the hull, Amelia and Emma exchanged a glance. A small cubicle, tucked away in the shadows and hidden by sacks and barrels, would be the perfect place for Emma to hide. The women had both smuggled a few essentials beneath their petticoats, and while William’s attention was focused elsewhere, Emma took a bundle from Amelia and added it to her own.

When the tour was over, Emma said her good-byes. Then, under the pretense of returning to the carriage while Amelia bid her husband farewell, Emma stole down the companionway into the hull and secreted herself in the tiny space, climbing over and nestling between sacks of grain. Her stomach constricted, but it was not seasickness. She traced her jade bracelet with one gloved finger, finding strength as she focused upon the reason she was doing this. She knew Amelia still disapproved of the entire venture, but once committed, she had not wavered. Emma had found a new connection with Amelia as they’d planned and worried and created scenarios late into the night. She even caught a look of mischief in Amelia’s eyes when they discussed Emma’s inevitable discovery.

Emma adjusted her position, trying to judge whether any part of her was visible to the main area of the hull. Finally deciding that the shadows sufficiently concealed her, she sat perfectly still, accustoming herself to the movement of the vessel, with muscles clenched and ears strained. She startled at each creak of the boards or snap of the sails until she was able to distinguish the regular sounds of the ship from the sounds of the men. As they hurried about making preparations to cast off, some of the sailors approached uncomfortably close. A passing man dropped a barrel and let out an exclamation quite near to Emma’s hiding place. Tingles of fear shot down to her fingers when she imagined that she had been discovered. But he simply retrieved his burden and hurried on his way, leaving Emma to sink back in relief as her heartbeat returned to normal.

Once the excitement of stowing away had subsided, Emma’s breathing calmed, and her muscles relaxed. Unwelcome feelings of doubt began to niggle at her mind. What on earth would William say when she was discovered? It was an understatement of immense proportions to assume that he would merely be angry with her. Would he turn the ship around and return her to London? Amelia had assured her that if she managed to remain hidden until the morning, the voyage would be too far underway to turn back.

A bell sounded, and footsteps pounded on the deck above. With a lurch, the motion of the ship changed, and she knew they had left port. The sacks of grain were quite comfortable, the belly of the ship dark, and the rocking motion soothing. Scooting down, she rested her head upon a bundle of clothing and allowed the pitching of the waves to lull her to sleep.

***

Emma didn’t know how much time had passed before she awoke, stretched, and turned to see a man’s shocked face peering over a stack of barrels. She screamed and jumped up, knocking her head upon a low beam as her mind—still sluggish from sleep—tried to make sense of her surroundings.

“Cap’n Drake!” the man yelled, hobbling toward the companionway, leaning on a crutch to make up for a missing leg.

The realization of where she was—and the fact that William would be here any moment—crashed over her. Emma tried to stop the man. “Please, wait.” She rubbed her head and climbed back over the small barricade of supplies that had hidden her. “Sir.”

At that very moment, the ship lurched, and Emma lost her balance. She reached out, pulling down a few of the unsecured barrels as she tumbled to the ground. One of the lids separated from its container when it hit the deck, spilling rice across the boards. Emma stood and attempted to steady herself just as William, followed by a group of men, crowded down the companionway.

“What the blazes is going on here?” William roared, his gaze taking in the mess. “Who is responsible for—” His gaze met Emma’s, and he froze, his eyes widening and his jaw going slack. “Emma?”

“In the larder she were, Cap’n.” The man who had discovered her leaned on his crutch, pointing to the small space that Emma had crawled out of. “Near scared the wits out of me, sir.”

“Emma?” William’s gaze did not leave his sister.

She wrung her hands together, wishing she could disappear. Seeing her brother’s anger directed at her was so much worse than she had imagined.

William’s face regained its look of authority. He stood as tall as he could beneath the low ceilings. “Emma, follow me. The rest of you clean up this mess,” he barked.

“Aye, aye, Captain.” The sailors sprang into action, darting glances at Emma as she walked past them.

She followed William up the companionway to the room that served as both the captain’s office and the officer’s dining room. With each step, her heart sank further. William seemed much angrier than she had expected, and she began to fear her plan wouldn’t work.

William closed the door through which they had entered then crossed the room, closing the door leading to the main deck. When he turned back around, his face was hard, and Emma found herself wanting to shrink beneath his gaze.

“Emma, what on earth are you thinking? You have cost us two days since we are now forced to turn around and return you to London. Why would you do this?”

“I came to help find Sidney and—”

“Find Sidney? What are you talking about? You’re a girl, a child. How could you think that hiding aboard the ship would help anybody?” William’s face was flushed, and he worked a muscle in his jaw.

Emma stood straight and lifted her chin, trying to project a confidence she did not feel. “I am sorry, William, but I knew it was the only way I would be able to accompany you to Spain.” Seeing the question in his eyes, she continued, “I would like to assist in Sidney’s rescue.”

William knit his brow, studying her for a long moment. “I am trying to understand, but for the life of me . . . Why, Emma?”

She rubbed her forearms, looking at the ground. “Because I am in love with him,” she whispered, unable to meet his eyes.

William began pacing. When Emma dared to look up, she saw that his face had turned red. “And how long has this been going on? Last Christmas? And under my very roof! That traitor. If the French have not flayed him, I shall—”

“William, nothing—what I mean to say is, Sidney knows none of this, and I do not know if . . . I do not know how he feels about me.” Confessing such things to her brother was painful, but she knew that if she did not convince him that this was of utmost importance to her, he would turn the ship around.

He stopped pacing and burrowed his fingers through his hair. “And this is the reason you have accepted none of the offers of marriage that have come your way.”

Emma nodded, feeling a hardness in the pit of her stomach.

William’s hand moved to rub the back of his neck. He stared at a painting upon the wall, speaking quietly. “We are operating under the suspicion that he is still alive, but there is no way of knowing until we reach Spain. And if by some miracle, we do find him, Sidney will quite possibly never leave the sea. He has obligations to his family and the navy.” William’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Emma for a long moment. “Does he return your feelings? If he does, I shall . . .” He paced again and stopped, his eyes widening and his face becoming, if possible, more flushed. He spluttered the words. “If he does
not
, that unworthy piece of shark chum will regret—”

“William!” Emma cried, horrified at the idea of her brother forcing Sidney to declare his love for her. “No, William, please give me your word that you will say nothing of this to him.”

“No, of course not.” William sat, and for the first time, her brother looked lost. “I . . . am not handling this well. These types of things are outside my realm of expertise.” He shook his head and stood, resuming his pacing and his authoritative tone. “But all this is beside the point. Spain is embroiled in the middle of a bloody war. It is not safe for anyone, least of all, a young woman. If Sidney
is
alive—and I cannot guarantee he is, Emma—” William’s voice softened considerably, “I will return him to London as quickly as I am able.”

Emma took her brother’s hand in both of hers. “We cannot afford the delay. Two days may very well be the difference between life and death for Sidney. I will stay out of the way and help when I am able. I will not be a burden.” She shifted her feet; her throat constricted as she tried to pour every ounce of feeling into her words, praying that he would understand. “Please, William. I must do this. I have never felt so strongly about anything. I must know once and for all if he is alive, and if there is a chance that . . .”

William was silent for a long moment. He stared at her hands clutching his own. Finally he cleared his throat. “Emma, I have lived with Sidney Fletcher for nearly my entire life—in very close quarters much of the time—and I will warn you he is annoyingly . . . cheerful. Constantly. But if you wish to torture yourself with that man’s exasperating good humor, I’m afraid there is nothing else I might say to dissuade you from this course.” His expression was resigned, but his eyes had a softness as he cocked his eyebrow ever so slightly. “Although I do question your taste in men.”

Emma laughed and threw herself into her brother’s arms, waves of relief flowing over her.

“But you must know this. Cádiz—and all of Spain, for that matter—is filled with soldiers. I will not allow you out of my sight for one instant.”

“Thank you, William,” she whispered and felt him brush a kiss upon her head.

Emma attempted to find things
to occupy her time aboard the ship. The crew avoided her—whether it was because of her brother or because she had stowed away, she wasn’t sure. William had told her once that sailors considered it bad luck to have a woman aboard, and she thought that could account for the less than gracious behavior.

She perused the book cabinets in the ward room, disappointed to find the collection consisted only of naval books depicting ships, ensigns, maps, signals, and the Articles of War. She made a mental note to purchase some novels for her brother and the officers when she returned to London. Surely they tired of reading about ships.

She did not venture below into the cargo hold again, after her incident with the rice. And she avoided walking above decks since she had no parasol and did not want her skin to become too brown or her nose to develop freckles. She wanted to look her best when she saw Sidney. The majority of her time was spent in her cabin, turning the pages of dull books, airing out her gowns, and daydreaming. She took meals with the officers and looked forward to the time she spent with William.

During the few days they spent together aboard the ship, she glimpsed bits of what his life must have been in his years at sea. This voyage strengthened their relationship, providing a chance for them to spend time alone together, something that rarely happened. Emma did feel a slight twinge of guilt, however, when she thought of the displacement of some of the officers so that she would have a private cabin next to her brother’s.

Emma was delighted to be included in a planning meeting one evening after supper, when William had decided that their course of action upon reaching Cádiz would be to appeal directly to Henry Wellesley, the ambassador. William reckoned Wellesley would provide their best chance of leaving the besieged city and gaining access to Matagorda, as he was likely the one responsible for negotiating prisoner exchange.

Less than a week after they’d set sail, Emma stood on the deck as they neared the port of Cádiz. The voyage had been surprisingly pleasant. It was a relief to focus on something aside from breakfast parties and gown fittings and balls, which typically took up her time. And it was possibly just a few hours until they would find Sidney.

Corporal Ashworth approached and leaned one hand on the gunwale, following her gaze to the Spanish shoreline. “We’re nearly there, Lady Emma.” He turned around, leaning his back against the rail, and indicated a group of officers who stood quietly on the deck. One man had removed his hat and held it over his breast. “I was not in the navy then, but the captain and some of the lieutenants are no doubt remembering the battle of Trafalgar. The conflict took place not distant from here, just a bit farther south, almost six years ago.”

Emma looked back to the quarterdeck, where her brother stood near the helm, gazing at the sea. As usual, his face was unreadable. She wondered if he was indeed remembering the great battle: cannons booming, men fighting and dying.

Emma inhaled the warm sea air. She looked up at the friendly face of Corporal Ashworth. He had been welcoming and kind to her, unlike most of the sailors who had acted uneasy around her. She wondered what they thought about her sneaking aboard the ship. Emma had mulled over her astonishing course constantly on the voyage. Her actions went completely against every bit of ladylike conduct that had been ingrained in her since she was a child. But she did not feel any remorse about the deception or the gossip that was sure to follow once she returned. She only knew that nothing in her life had ever felt so absolutely correct.

The corporal regained her attention as he pointed to the coast. “The opening to the bay is guarded on the north by the French. I shouldn’t wonder, my lady, if you would prefer to go below decks until we are safely past the harbor mouth. They will no doubt fire upon us.”

Emma’s heart jolted. She spread her hand upon her breastbone as if attempting to hold in her breath. “Are we in danger, Corporal?”

“Captain Drake knows to make for the south end of the harbor. But cannons firing upon the ship can be . . . upsetting. Come, I will accompany—”

His words were cut off by the sound of explosions, followed by the whistle of cannonballs. Emma’s head whipped around, but the men aboard the ship continued about their duties, not even acknowledging the threat, except for the boy, Riley, who shook his fist and yelled something at the French that Emma was certain was not meant for a lady’s ears.

As Corporal Ashworth had predicted, the shots did not reach them, splashing into the sea yards away, but Emma’s hands still shook. Up until that moment, the threat of the war had seemed so distant. The idea of enemies and danger had sounded exciting, even romantic. But the flashes from the shore as the French army attempted, albeit halfheartedly, to sink their ship suddenly cast the journey in a different light. Emma began to feel a wary sort of anxiety that she was entering into a situation she wasn’t prepared for.

Ahead of them was a walled city at the tip of a peninsula. Emma had read for months about the city of Cádiz. The French army had effectively cut the city off from the rest of Spain by setting up siege lines upon the narrow bit of land attaching Cádiz to the continent. It was an attempt to dispel the influence of the Spanish parliament—the Cortes—upon the rest of the country, which was in upheaval after Napoleon had removed King Fernando and crowned his own brother, Joseph. The continual supplies brought into the harbor by the English ensured that the city remained fortified and supplied with the necessities to ensure the residents’ survival.

“You are a bit pale, my lady.” The corporal recaptured her attention. “It won’t be long now. Isla de León.” He indicated a small island south of Cádiz. “That is where we shall go ashore.”

William ordered the small boat to be lowered, and Corporal Ashworth helped Emma climb over the side and settle into the tottering vessel, situating herself among the crew of men.

As they rowed closer, Emma looked up at the tall stone walls of the city. Spires and domes shone against the clear sky. The water of the harbor was a deep blue with bright glints of light sparkling on the waves. It was beautiful and peaceful. She almost couldn’t believe this land was even now plagued by war.

“Ya should have seen it, your ladyship,” Lieutenant Fairchild said to Emma as they bounced over the waves. “After Trafalgar, the entire harbor here was filled with bodies washed in by the tide. Bobbing up and down in the surf, bumping into the walls like a—”

“That is quite enough,” William said, cutting him off.

“Sorry, Cap’n.” The lieutenant looked appropriately chagrined. “I thought the lady might be interested in a bit of history, it being her first time in Spain and all.”

“It is all right, William. I do not mind hearing about the battles,” Emma said, even as her stomach turned. She scooted away from the side of the boat, shivering, and refrained from looking into the water.

The small town of San Fernando upon the Isla de León was filled with British and Portuguese soldiers and mosquitoes. The men slept in tents but inundated the taverns and streets in their leisure time. William kept his sister close to his side as he led his group of marines through the town and across the sandy isthmus that joined the island with Cádiz. On her right, hundreds of white mounds shone in the sun, and upon questioning William, Emma learned that they were made of salt harvested from the sea.

Massive gates flanked by guards and fortified by bastions barred the south entrance of the walled city. Emma’s eyes darted to the armaments above them, and she moved closer to her brother when the armed guards peered down at them.

One of the Spanish guards approached, and William spoke at length with him, explaining their mission and asking to speak with the ambassador. The guard conferred with his associates and eventually permitted them to enter Cádiz.

Four Spanish soldiers accompanied them through the winding, narrow streets. Emma craned her neck, looking up at the white stone buildings looming above them. Many of the roofs were either domed or flat with terraces atop them, reflecting the Moroccan influence in their design. They passed a cathedral which William told Emma was under construction. He explained that the canvas sheets covering the unfinished roof were actually sails from the Spanish Armada, which His Majesty’s Navy had all but obliterated at Trafalgar.

The fact that the British were now Spain’s closest allies attested to the destruction wrought by Napoleon’s army in the past six years.

“It seems that war creates and destroys more alliances than gossip among the
ton
,” Emma mused, glancing up at her brother.

“That assessment is extremely astute.” William responded with a wry smile.

Upon reaching the embassy, William, Emma, and their company were shown into a courtyard surrounded by arches and columns interspersed with palms and greenery. Wrought iron chairs, tables, and benches clustered around a large fountain. An exotic mixture of flowers and spices perfumed the air.

Emma sat on a bench next to William. “It’s difficult to believe that something as terrible as war can touch such a place,” she said.

“I wish you could have seen this country before it became a battleground. It was perhaps one of the most picturesque settings in the world. But now, armies have trampled fields, burned villages and orchards. The people, once so hospitable, have become hardened and distrusting of outsiders.” William spoke softly; his voice sounded heavy.

“It is heartbreaking,” said Emma. The sound of the fountain, the low murmur of men’s voices, and the cool breeze were beginning to take their toll upon her. She closed her eyes, just for a moment, and rested her head upon her brother’s shoulder. They were so very close to finding out what had happened to Sidney. She imagined how delighted he would be to see her. In her mind, Sidney sat upon a dirt floor in a cold dungeon. William and his soldiers would storm into the prison, subduing the guards, but it would be Emma who found Sidney. And when he laid eyes upon her, he would fall weeping into her arms declaring that the memory of her face was the only thing that had sustained him through his incarceration. He would gently lower his lips to hers—

William stood, startling her out of her daydream.

Emma blinked and looked around, wondering if anyone noticed the color in her cheeks, but everyone’s attention was on a man who had entered the courtyard. Though he was an Englishman, he wore a mustache in the Spanish style and, in the place of boots, buckled shoes.

“I apologize for keeping you waiting, Lord Lockwood.” He inclined his head and shook William’s hand.

“It was no wait at all,” William responded. “Thank you for meeting with me, Your Excellency.”

“There is no need to stand upon ceremony. My elder brother is the Duke of Wellington, but I am simply Henry Wellesley. I am delighted to meet you.”

“May I present my sister, Lady Emma Drake, sir.”

Emma dipped in a curtsey.

Henry took her hand. If he had any opinions about William bringing his sister into a besieged city during the middle of a war, he kept them to himself. “It is a pleasure, Lady Emma.”

William introduced Lieutenants Wellard and Fairchild, Corporals Thorne and Ashworth, and Riley.

Henry Wellesley sent a servant for drinks and tapas, which turned out to be a variety of finger foods. Most were completely foreign to Emma, but she was pleased to find them all delicious. While they ate, Henry made arrangements for the company to remain at the embassy for the night, and servants were sent to the ship with the corporals to retrieve essentials. Emma was relieved. The idea of walking the entire distance back to the island and then taking a boat out to the ship was exhausting.

“Thank you for your hospitality, sir,” William said, when they had finished eating.

“It is always a delight to receive visitors from home. You can imagine I do not have the opportunity often.”

“I do not wish to impose more upon your time, so I will come to the purpose of our visit.”

Henry nodded and leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other and waving his hand as a signal for William to continue.

“Captain Sidney Fletcher of the HMS
Venture
was imprisoned at Fort Matagorda two months ago. Upon inquiry, the prison denied the existence of any prisoner by that name. We are unsure whether he has given an alias for a purpose unknown to us or if the French are denying his presence for another reason.”

“And are you certain he was captured?”

“Yes, we have a witness. A trusted soldier who would not mistake the fact.”

Emma saw Riley sit up a bit taller.

Henry Wellesley rubbed his chin. “Technically, I am the envoy to the court of Spain. My interaction with the French is limited, for obvious reasons.” He stared at the fountain for a moment as he apparently contemplated the situation.

Emma began to feel sick. What if the ambassador was unwilling or unable to assist them? Did William have a contingency plan? “Please, sir. Is there anything you can do?” she asked.

Henry looked at her for a moment and finally spoke again. “I do believe, in this case, it would be entirely appropriate and within my rights to launch an investigation. I shall send an emissary tomorrow morning to the prison at Matagorda to inquire after Captain Fletcher.”

“Thank you,” Emma breathed.

William’s shoulders relaxed, the relief upon his face obvious.

“However,” the ambassador continued slowly, his eyes still on Emma. “I do not know if my emissary would be able to discover information about the captain if he is using an assumed name. Perhaps, it would be prudent to send someone with him who would recognize Captain Fletcher.”

“Of course,” William said. “I would not think to send your man alone. I shall join him.”

“Naturally, you would be an excellent choice, my lord. However, I do not believe the French are likely to allow a man of your standing and military experience behind their siege lines. Especially with the British forces massing for an attack at any moment. You would be suspected as a spy.” Henry looked at each of the men. “As would all of you. I believe that even you, Master Riley, would be considered a potential threat by our enemies.”