Lady Emma's Campaign (7 page)

Sidney paced the edges of
his dark cell. He had checked every stone and searched the corners for something, anything he could use to escape. He knew his endeavor was fruitless, having done it hundreds of times before, but he had to busy himself with something. He had thought there was no way his situation could have become any worse. His own incarceration and torture was one thing, but he didn’t know what he would do if something were to happen to Emma.

His breath hitched as he remembered Emma’s expression when the warden struck her. He felt an overwhelming need to protect her. It must be a brotherly feeling, he reasoned. William had spoken rarely about his father, but from the few things he had said, Sidney knew that the old earl had been cruel and abusive to his wife and children. Because of that, Sidney had been careful never to raise his voice around Emma or do anything that might cause her to feel threatened.

How would he ever face William if anything should happen to her? If only Emma hadn’t thought that a French prison in the middle of a battle zone operated with the same rules of politeness as a London drawing room.

Again he mentally kicked himself for picking up that blasted coin. And what kind of pitiful officer allows himself to be captured? Balling his hands into fists, he pounded on the door and finally rested his forehead against the thick wood. Only then did he register the pain from where his hands had made contact.

A soft tapping sounded upon the door. He was either imagining it, or the warden had returned to taunt him. He had resolved to ignore it, though it would do no good, when he thought he heard his name spoken through the heavy planks.

Emma
. A quiver of dread moved through him and settled heavily in his gut. Had the warden brought her down already to force information from him? Information that he could not provide. He gritted his teeth. He had no weapon, but he would not allow Emma to come to harm.

“Sidney? Are you in there?” Even muffled by the thick door, he heard the fear in her voice and hastened to try and dispel it.

“I am here, Emma. It will be all right.”

A key turned in the lock, and Sidney tensed his muscles, preparing to spring at the warden.

The door squeaked open slowly, but there was no lantern light. What was Lieutenant Trenchard playing at? He heard footsteps and the rustle of skirts.

Sidney’s senses were heightened almost to the point of pain. He strained to locate the warden in the pitch darkness. “Emma. Do not be afraid,” he said as steadily as he was able.

“Where are you?” she said.

Sidney reached toward the sound of her voice. “I am here.”

“We must hurry.” Emma’s voice drew nearer to him.

Sidney found her in the darkness and pulled her behind him, stepping between her and the door.

“We could not light the lantern,” Emma said. “Here is Lieutenant Trenchard’s coat. There is a battle happening outside.” Sidney felt something soft pressed against his arm, and when he took it, his fingers brushed Emma’s gloved hand. He clasped her fingers and noticed that she was trembling.

Sidney’s mind began to churn as he attempted to understand Emma’s hurried words. “Where is the warden? Are you harmed? Are you alone?” He attempted to speak calmly through his confusion.

“Serena . . . hit him. On the head, and then we bound his hands and feet. I do not know how long it will be until he wakes up.”

“Where is Serena?” Sidney asked.

“I am here,” Serena answered.

“And Jim?” He turned blindly toward her voice.

“I believe he is in his cell. We must release him. And we must hurry. You can light the lantern?”

Sidney felt something pressed against his chest. He released Emma’s hand and took what he recognized to be a tinderbox. “Is there tinder in here?”

“Bits of cloth,” Emma said. “But it is difficult to . . .” her words trailed off as Sidney struck the flint and shook a shower of sparks into the chamber. He blew softly until a small flame grew, and he hurriedly lit the lantern.

“Much better,” he said once he could see the women. He was, at the same time, overjoyed at this chance of escape and terrified as the full magnitude of the situation settled upon him. Emma and Serena had both risked their lives for him and placed their own into his hands. He could not allow anyone to hurt them, and recapture was not an option. He set the lantern upon the floor then quickly slid his arms into the warden’s jacket and placed the bicorn hat upon his head to complete the disguise. The French uniforms with their silly tri-colored rosettes and plumes were utterly ridiculous.

He picked up the lantern and looked between the two women. He could see the fear in their eyes and spoke lightly, hoping to set them at ease. “Well, one could certainly not ask for lovelier rescuers, although in the future when I describe our gallant escape, my ego may demand that I embellish my role somewhat.”

His own naval jacket lay carefully folded in a corner of his cell. He snatched it, handed it to Emma, pocketed the tinderbox, and led the women out into the passageway.

They followed the tunnel as it wound back toward the stairs, and Sidney commented, “I cannot believe you navigated your way in the dark.”

“It was Emma who found you,” Serena said, and Sidney felt a glow of pride, as an elder brother naturally would, he told himself.

Once they reached the staircase, Serena handed him the keys, and he quickly opened the gate, following Serena’s instructions to Jim’s cell. He knew he would never be able to navigate the Spanish countryside without Jim’s help.

In the French uniform, Sidney was able to move through the fort unnoticed. Although he kept his eyes straight ahead, Sidney scanned the courtyard for any threat. He was conscious of each man that passed and how he would defend himself and Emma and Serena if they were stopped. When they turned a corner, he glanced at his companions. Serena’s face was tight with worry, but Emma looked terrified. Her gloved hands clenched the jacket she held pressed against her chest, and her eyes darted nervously around.

He smiled and lifted his brows, hoping he looked encouraging.

Sidney leaned back around the corner and surveyed the courtyard behind them. He tried not to allow his surprise to show as he observed the soldiers running and yelling throughout the fort. The British army would never allow its troops to behave in such a way. Discipline was key. Each man knew his duty and moved to his position in an orderly fashion. Even though Sidney was an enemy wearing a poorly fitting uniform jacket and leading two women through the stronghold, none of the French soldiers spared him a glance, making him grateful for the shoddy French training.

When they found Jim’s cell, Sidney glanced through the barred window in the door as he turned the key in the lock. Jim sat on his cot and raised his head when the door opened. If the man felt any surprise at seeing Sidney dressed in a French uniform, accompanied by two ladies, he did not show it. The fact that he simply stood, put on his red regimental jacket, and followed Sidney into the courtyard attested to his faith in their partnership. Sidney hoped he would not let his friend down.

Sidney looked around the fort, determining quickly that the stables seemed to be quiet. The group crossed the courtyard and slipped inside the stable door, crouching behind a low stone wall that sectioned off the individual stalls. He moved Emma to the innermost corner, where he hoped she would be safest, as she was the smallest and weakest of the party, not to mention the least experienced. Sidney removed his hat, certain that the colorful plume would show above the wall and give away their position.

Serena moved closer to Jim, and he gave her a small nod and a pat on the arm. It was the closest Sidney had come to seeing the man show any emotion in the time that they’d known one another. “Colonel Jim Stackhouse, Lady Emma Drake,” Sidney whispered, motioning between the two by way of introduction. They nodded at each other. Jim studied her for a moment, and Emma looked decidedly uneasy at the severe expression she received from the colonel.

Sidney had come to trust Jim through their months of planning and interaction, but seeing him through Emma’s eyes, he realized that the man was quite intimidating. Jim looked to be in his late forties. His skin was weathered from a lifetime of army campaigning. Lines stretched from his eyes and formed parentheses around his lips. His expression, to those who did not know him could be interpreted as cruel. Sidney could not imagine what a smile would look like on Jim Stackhouse’s face. It would be positively bizarre, he decided. But Jim was nothing if not steady and honorable, which is why he had been entrusted with Serena’s care in the first place.

Sidney and Jim slowly rose and peered over the wall before ducking back down and squatting in the hay-strewn dirt.

“How would you recommend we proceed?” Jim asked. “We’ll not be able to follow our original plan.”

“I think a diversion is the thing. I’ll distract the soldiers at the gate,” Sidney responded. He turned to Emma and Serena. “Stay with Jim.” He took Emma’s hand as he spoke, hoping he sounded confident enough that she would not be afraid. “No matter what happens. Can you do that?”

Both women nodded.

“Rendezvous in the grove west of here and over the hill. You know it, Jim?”

“Aye,” Jim said. The steadiness in his bearing showed none of the nervousness that Sidney felt. He attributed it to the colonel’s years of discipline in the British army.

Sidney was suddenly aware that he still held Emma’s hand, and he was surprised at how natural it had seemed to grasp it in the first place. How it comforted him to feel her near.

“Jim, wait fifteen minutes, then take the women to Tarifa with or without me and find a British ship. Any will bring you to Cádiz where—”

Emma jerked his hand, cutting off his words. “What do you mean,
without
you?”

“Emma, we’re escaping into a battlefield. There is no guarantee that any of us will survive.”

The color drained from Emma’s face, and her eyes darted between her three companions. Sidney wished he had not frightened her, but she needed to know the truth. The chances of escape from the fort were slim, and making one’s way through a battlefield . . . treacherous.

“But I came here for you. I cannot leave without you.” Emma’s chin began to quiver.

“Emma, I will join you as soon as I am able. Please trust me.”

Her gaze moved to Jim and Serena and then back to his. She nodded her head reluctantly.

Becoming sentimental would only impede his decision making, so Sidney forced his mind away from Emma’s wide eyes. He began emptying the pockets of the warden’s coat and slipping the contents into his own, hoping there might be something useful since they had no other supplies. He needed to remove the foul-smelling French jacket as soon as possible. He would be a target for the British sharpshooters and rifles if he were to run through the gates of the fort in an enemy uniform. He would rather try his luck with the poor aim of the French muskets. He handed his jacket back to Emma.

“Jim is your best chance. Trust him.”

“Colonel Stackhouse, he will protect us,” Serena said, taking Emma’s hand from Sidney’s and putting an arm around Emma’s shoulders. Emma clutched Sidney’s jacket to her chest.

Sidney gave his companions one last glance before making his way across the stable, stooping behind a two-wheeled cart filled with straw. With the help of the tinderbox, it took only a moment to start a blaze and shove the cart out through the stable door toward the other side of the courtyard. By the time it reached the armory and smashed into the entrance, huge flames completely engulfed the cart, threatening the store of weapons and gunpowder. The duty of guarding the main gate was forgotten as the guards panicked and ran about attempting to put out the fire.

From the corner of his eye, Sidney saw Jim lead the two women through the chaos, slipping past the guards and out of the fort. He nearly sagged in relief. But the sensation did not last long. It was quickly replaced by tension as he began to calculate how he would get himself through the entrance.

Still wearing the warden’s jacket and hat, Sidney strode toward the gate, taking note of his surroundings and the movements of the soldiers as they scurried back and forth pouring water upon the blaze. His heart was pounding in his ears, but he moved purposefully, as if he had every right to be there.

The guards had reorganized themselves and stood in front of the entrance, though their attention was still on the attempts to extinguish the fire and not the battle taking place outside the walls. Sidney stood near them for a moment, feigning interest in the proceedings. He casually turned toward the gates, pushing calmly against the one that was still partially ajar.

When it had moved enough to allow him to pass through, Sidney turned sideways and began to slip into the crack. The tight space pressed upon his ribs causing a burst of pain through his side. He heard a yell behind him and recognized the voice of the warden. Resisting the urge to turn back, Sidney thrust himself through the opening, shedding the jacket and hat as he ran, hoping his filthy clothing would still identify him as a British officer.

He ran steadily through the battle, dodging bayonet points and sword skirmishes. The field was littered with the dead and dying. Smoke hung heavy. Blood turned the hard dirt into mud and made the ground slippery. Sidney stumbled and nearly fell. He was completely defenseless and began to look around for a weapon. Veering slightly off course, he pulled a sword from a fallen soldier, strapping the sheath onto his belt as he ran.

Sidney blocked everything out: his own pain, the gunfire, the war cries, the moans and screams of men and horses. He remembered the sights and sounds as clearly as if it had only been yesterday that he had fought upon this same battlefield. The sick feeling created by the memory of his capture months before hung over him, but he pushed it away. He concentrated his entire energy upon the hill and the grove of trees beyond, searching for any sight of his companions.

At last he saw them. They were nearly halfway up the slope. His chest tightened painfully. Emma and Serena were attempting to lift a seemingly unconscious Jim. When Sidney caught up to them, he saw that both women’s eyes were wide with alarm. Jim’s face was covered in the blood that flowed from a gaping wound in his forehead. Sidney tried not to show his panic, but he knew that getting himself and the women to safety without Jim’s help was nearly impossible.