The Solitary Envoy (36 page)

“You have done excellent work, I am sure, sir.”

“Aye, we’ve tried to deliver as promised.” He heaved a sigh. Dust from the bricklayers’ work liberally coated his features. His eyes looked remarkably blue, framed as they were by his dirty face. “You never made mention of the early times, miss.”

“I never saw any need, Master Dobbins.”

“Aye, but others might’ve used this against me….” He fumbled with his words as he did his cap. “There’s been strangers about here.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Strangers,” he repeated. “Up to no good, I warrant. Dark, they were. Dark in their souls. Asking the wrong sort of questions.”

Erica’s hand rose nervously to clutch at her dress collar. “I’m certain I don’t understand you, Master Dobbins.”

“Questions,” he repeated. “Asking questions about you.”

“But whatever for?”

“Couldn’t say, miss. But they were here. And when I shooed them off the site, they made like they was offering money to my apprentices. Wanting to know when you came. How often. What time of day.”

“But …” Erica could not explain why such news would frighten her so. “But that makes no sense whatsoever.”

“Aye, unless they were out to do you harm.”

“Master Dobbins, I assure you—”

“It’s none of my business what you’re about, miss. I know I’m building a house for folks at the embassy, and I know when to leave well enough alone.” He started to turn away.

“Just a moment. Please.” Erica did her best to gather her scattered thoughts. “Can you tell me anything else about them?”

“Bad people.” Now that he had delivered his message, the builder was eager to return to the work and the world he knew. Master Dobbins replaced his dusty cap and touched the rim. “If I was you, miss, I’d be watching my back.”

“Thank you, sir,” Erica said to the departing master builder. “I am indeed most grateful.”

She took her customary route down Audley Street. The clouds had thickened, becoming far more foreboding than on the outward journey. She found herself recalling what Lavinia had told her in the carriage on that first outing they had taken together. How diplomacy could reap the most unexpected benefits, forging alliances where none could logically exist. How true those words had proven, no matter how difficult the lesson!

She turned onto Piccadilly. The open expanse with the leafy park opposite her seemed somehow ominous. Even the birds seemed to be communicating a warning. All her senses were on alert.

Which was how she noticed the danger in time.

A long line of carriages was making its way back from Hyde Park’s Rotten Row, just as they did every afternoon about this time. Occasionally Erica would study the people, their dress, and their haughty manner. Today, however, she searched the passing faces for any hint of threat.

Then a young man driving a carriage half rose from his seat, his eyes wide with alarm. He pointed with his whip and shouted words Erica did not take time to fathom.

In that same instant, she heard the pounding hooves.

She jerked about and saw the horse. A broken bridle dangled from its froth-flecked mouth. A trace jounced and jangled about its right foreleg. There was a wild look to its eyes.

The horse bounded down the empty walk. Heading straight toward her.

Erica leaped sideways. One heel became trapped in her hem, and she almost went down. The horse would have pounded straight across her had she not caught the metal post of the fence lining the walk. With almost inhuman strength she pulled herself up onto the crossrail and flattened herself tight against the iron rods. Even so, the horse’s flank punched her hard into the fence, bruising her knees where they collided with the rail.

Up and down Piccadilly, carriages halted and drivers shouted warnings to pedestrians further along the lane. Erica heard shrieks and neighing and the crack of whips.

She remained precisely where she was. Now that the danger was past, she could not manage to release her hold upon the railing.

“Miss Erica!” The embassy porter scurried down the lane. “Miss, are you all right?”

She wanted to speak but could not. Her breath came in terrified little gasps.

“Here, miss, let me help you down. Ease up on the grip there … that’s it. All right, I’ve got you. Steady on, miss. Can you stand?”

She looked down the now-empty walk and leaned heavily upon the older man. “Where did it come from?” she cried.

“No idea, miss. All I know, one moment I spotted you walking back from the square like always. The next, this great beast was bearing down on you like death itself.” The porter was sweating profusely from the closeness of the call. “How you managed to leap out of the way is beyond me.”

She pushed herself upright. “I’m all right now.”

“Aye, that you are, miss.” The porter studied her with open admiration. “Never seen anybody move that fast in all my born days.”

Chapter 30

Erica woke the next morning and lay listening to the birds and the wind. It was fresh for late summer, and the breeze blew straight from the north. She could feel a slight chill through her narrow window, which she had left ajar all night. The room faced the back of the house, and she could hear a handyman out back making a racket with some job or another. She snuggled deeper under the covers. From the sunlight’s strength she knew she had overslept. But there had been very few moments of such deep rest. She lay with her eyes wide open, her covers tucked up under her chin, and luxuriated in this stolen moment. Outside her window a mockingbird trilled its way through every melody known to nature.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a very soft knock on the door. Assuming it was Abbie, she said good morning.

But it was Lavinia who opened the door. “And a very good morning to you. How did you rest?”

“Fine, thank you.” Something in the woman’s tone suggested this was not a casual interruption. “Is something the matter?”

“I would not have disturbed you for all the world.”

“I was already awake.”

“It is just that the rather large gentleman who traveled with you—forgive me, I have quite forgotten his name …”

“Daniel.” Erica swung her feet to the floor. “He is Gareth’s right-hand man.”

“He is downstairs.”

“In the embassy?” Erica was on her feet now and scrambling for her clothes. “Whatever for?”

“He would not say. Only that it was urgent, and he must discuss it with you alone.”

Gareth. It had to be something about Gareth. Something terrible.

“I am so sorry to wake you like this, after everything—”

“That doesn’t matter now. Where is my other shoe?”

“Right here under the bed. Erica, be calm. Whatever it is that has brought Daniel can wait for you to wash your face. Abbie?”

“Here, Mama. Good morning, Erica. I’ve brought you your tea.”

“I can’t—”

“Isn’t Abbie a dear to help us out like this? Darling, run and dampen a towel in the kitchen basin. Make sure the water is clean, and add a bit of hot water from the kettle.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Here, hand me the brush,” Lavinia said. “You take a sip of tea; it will do you a world of good.”

Erica did as she was told while Lavinia began to brush her hair.

“I should be doing that, Lavinia.”

“Drink your tea. I can do this twice as fast; haven’t I been up with the baby since before dawn?”

Abbie scampered back with the towel in hand. “He has been crying so terribly much.”

“That’s enough, child. Hand Erica the towel. Rub your face hard. It will add as good a blush as any powder to your cheeks. What I would give to have your lovely skin and features.”

“She doesn’t like her nose,” Abbie announced.

“Doesn’t she? Why not?” Lavinia tied a ribbon in Erica’s hair. “Have you finished your tea?”

“Yes, and now I really must go.”

“Almost done. All right, stand up. Let’s have a look at you.” Lavinia fiddled with Erica’s collar, swept her hair back behind her head, and said carefully, “You remember our discussion about diplomacy?”

“Yes, but …”

“Now is the time to apply this lesson with diligence. Your writings have placed you firmly in the public eye. When you go downstairs all the world will be watching.”

Erica’s heart had continued to accelerate until she felt a need to scream just to let out a bit of the pressure. “But Gareth—”

“You cannot help him by showing panic. Take your time. Be the lady. Let them see you as calm and collected.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Then walk Daniel outside before you let him speak.” Lavinia took a very firm grip upon both of Erica’s upper arms. “Remember where you are.”

Erica took a deep breath. “Yes. All right.”

Lavinia released her. “Off you go. We will be praying for you, won’t we, Abbie?”

“Very hard,” the child solemnly agreed.

Erica managed to walk down the embassy stairs only because she was in truth not entirely there. Instead, she seemed to float above herself, watching this young lady in a borrowed dress of lavender and cream stroll down the stairs with a calm that was most certainly not her own. Just as Lavinia had said, every eye was upon her. The foyer and side chambers were filled with the normal crush of dark-suited men, their pipe smoke filling the air overhead. A number of them doffed their hats and murmured greetings as she passed. Erica held onto her half smile by mentally freezing it into place.

“Daniel.” She offered her hand palm down, as she had seen her mother do on a countless number of formal moments. “How nice of you to come.”

Daniel remembered enough of his military days to come to full attention and bow stiffly over the hand. “Forgive the intrusion, my lady.”

The honorific helped steady her nerves. “Nonsense. You are always welcome. Don’t you find the air a trifle close? The morning is so lovely; let us walk outside.”

Daniel was dressed in what undoubtedly was his best—a hastily brushed topcoat and frilled shirt washed and starched so that it billowed out before him. His cheeks were clean shaven and his hair held back in a ribbon almost the same color as her own. Though Erica wanted to grab his arm and shriek for news, she did precisely as Lavinia had instructed. She walked through the front door and down the front steps, only to realize the outer way was lined with yet more men wishing a moment of the ambassador’s time. “Have you ever seen our back garden?”

“No, my lady, that is …”

“Follow me.”

Only when they had passed behind the house did she recall the workers whose racket had awakened her. Two men were busy pounding a long strip of metal into some unrecognizable form. At this range the din was astonishing. Erica walked over to them and said, “Please be silent.”

The leering response was halted by a massive shadow falling over the three of them. The men set down their hammers. “The master said we was to have this done by nightfall, miss.”

“We will not hold you up overlong.” Erica turned her back on the men. She could not wait another moment. “Tell me now. Is it Gareth?”

“No, miss. That is, he is doing passably well. Somewhat better than yesterday, if you ask me.”

The steel grip of fear eased its painful hold upon her chest. “What is it, then?”

“You know about our regiment, how we were disbanded and left to rot when the wars were done.”

“Yes. Gareth has told me. But whatever—”

“I ask on account of how you need to know there’s some questions I can’t answer.”

“Oh. Very well.”

“There’s men who lost all hope of ever rejoining the human race, men who’ve gone all bad. But they still hold a debt to the major.”

Erica studied him a moment. “I see. You have news from a source within the underworld. But I am not to inquire who that person is or how the information came to you.”

Daniel’s massive features shone with admiration. “Everyone says you’re the sharpest of them all, miss.”

“So tell me, what is the news?”

His grave manner returned. “There’s been a price put on your head.”

The shock drove her back a step. “What?”

Daniel closed the distance so as to keep his voice low. “Someone wants you done away with.”

“But why?”

“There’s two fellows who came with the news. The major and I know them. They’d not come up with something like this on their own. They claim they don’t know who’s behind it, which is as good as saying we may never learn the answer.” Daniel fumbled with his top hat. “The major wanted to come tell you himself. But the master of the house wouldn’t hear of it.”

“No, no, of course not. He must remain in bed.” Her thoughts should have been swirling. Instead, they seemed to be moving with the slowness of molasses. “Did Gareth suggest why this might have happened?”

“The major doubts it’s on account of the writings. He says to do you harm now would only add fuel to the fire and point all sorts of fingers at people in high places. The major wants to know if you can think of anyone else who might want to do you harm.”

The answer was there before her instantly. “Mr. Bartholomew, the banker.” Strange how identifying the source of this threat did not jolt any harder. “He feels the pressure to repay my father’s gold and has responded in this vile manner.”

“So the major and Mr. Wilberforce thought as well,” Daniel agreed.

“Mr. Wilberforce is informed of this matter?”

“He is as distressed as the major himself.” Daniel fumbled in his jacket and withdrew two sealed notes. “This one is from the major. Mr. Wilberforce penned the other himself.”

The words from Gareth caused her to blush, such was the strength of his caring concern. “He is such a fine, dear man.”

“Aye, miss. As good as they come. He thinks the world of you as well, the major does.”

The note from Wilberforce was penned in characteristic haste.

My dear Miss Erica,

Would that I might take this new burden from you. Know that I stand ready to assist in any way possible, just as you have done for us and our cause. Might I share one thought with you?
I would imagine your recent experiences, the journey to Manchester, penning the magnificent pamphlet, and now the growing bond with Mr. Powers leave you feeling a new intimacy with the Almighty. You have moved into the procession of servants acting out His will. And now this. Perhaps there is a sense of stepping back, of retreating from this intimate glory and returning to the mundane
.