Authors: Sherry Gloag
Vidal's Honor (14 page)
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Two hours later, and more exhausted than Honor ever imagined she could be, Vidal and Juan eased her to the floor of the cave.
Juan hadn't overstated the cramped space. Thankfully, it was big enough to keep the lashing rain driving off the mountains from penetrating the opening.
“I feel more tumbled than a polished diamond and a lot less shiny.” She hurt everywhere, but acknowledged it could have been so much worse. When encouraged to put her right foot to the ground, she'd swallowed the gasp of pain. Later, with Vidal's hand beneath her elbow, she'd taken several steps, and offered a feeble smile of reassurance.
“We have put the stores on our own mule and you will ride the new arrival,” Juan stated; one look at his face stopped any protest she might have made. And when they arrived at their destination, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the rear of the cave, setting her gently on the floor. “Rest now, and⦔ His voice trailed off and he flapped his hand at his side. “I may have been hard on you, Mrs. Beaumont. I am sorry to say I did wonder whether you had betrayed your husband.”
“What?” Pain shot through her ribs when she sat up straight. “Are you sayingâ You were going to hand us over to the French.”
As fast as the adrenalin powered her upright, it drained away and she slumped against the wall. “What changed your mind? I am presuming you have changed it?” She strove for derision and heard despair instead.
“I confess it was your brother-in-law's comments to Phillipe plus the Frenchman's admission Chiltern is one of his agents and is spreading rumours of your guilt in the hope you will be hanged.”
“Well, I daresay I should be gracious and accept your apology, but I will thank you for one thing.”
“And that is?”
“I have a rough idea of what to expect and how I will be treated when I arrive home.” Fear and bitterness laced her voice. Instead of celebrating a wonderful wedding anniversary with Devlin, she'd face social ostracization at best, and a public hanging at worst.
The memory of Vidal's change from warm to icy hit her. “And I suppose you discussed your suspicions with Vidal?” When Juan hung his head, she had her answer. “A hard lesson,” she muttered, unaware Vidal had joined Juan.
“What's a hard lesson?”
Pain, physical and mental swirled inside her, twisting, poking, thrumming and thumping, and for an instant she wondered whether it was worth the bother of trying to reach home. “Ask Juan, but do it somewhere else. I am tired.” She watched the two men exchange glances, nod in her direction, and walk past Consuela and out of the cave.
It was true the cold damp floor of the cave enticed her to lie down, but she had to think and resisted the urge to sleep.
What had Vidal said about Dundas when she asked if he knew the traitor's identity?
“He didn't tell me.”
Well⦠No... there was more, something about arresting him after Vidal's departure. Him! After Vidal left. That meant⦠What? She smacked the flat of her hand on her forehead and yelped in pain. The answer lay just beyond her memory. In an effort to distract herself, she focussed on the activity at the front of the cave.
Vidal's finger feathered across her cheek sending shivers down her spine. How, when she felt so awful, could her body respond to his touch in such a way? “That's some shiner you've got there.”
When had Vidal re-entered the cave? “Shiner?” Her own fingers replaced Vidal's as she probed the swelling round her eye.
“Sorry, my dear, it is boxing cant for colourful bruise.”
No wonder she couldn't see out of the eye, and in an odd way found relief from the knowledge that bruising and not a more serious injury confined her vision.
“Before I follow your orders⦔
The smile in Vidal's voice reached her.
“...are you comfortable?”
“I wouldn't describe my situation as comfortable.” Honor tried to match his own light humour. “But as rock floors go, this one will do well enough, thank you.”
A shuffle at her side distracted her from the warm concern in his eyes to Juan easing his thick coat behind her back.
“It is not much, but will help keep you warm against the cold wall.”
“Thank you.”
Vidal tucked his cloak over her legs, then rose and stepped back. “Rest now while Consuela prepares something for us to eat. It will be a veritable feast today.”
Moving her head slowly until the entrance of the cave came into view, she saw Consuela squatting over a fledgling fire near the aperture, a couple of the boxes now open beside her.
“Where is Phillipe?”
Vidal took her hand in both of his. “He didn't make it.”
“I'm sorry.” And she was. If he'd spoken the truth he'd acted to save his own family, the same way Devlin would have protected her, and Vidal was doing now. That didn't mean she could forgive his duplicity, but in the hard cut and thrust of war, with betrayal and counter-betrayal rife perhaps he felt he had no option.
The sound of Consuela's "ooohs" and "ahhhs" reached her, and cries of delight distracted her morbid thoughts.
“Fresh chicken.” Holding it above her head like a trophy, Consuela's cry of delight echoed round the restricted space. “Enough for today.” She dug around some more, brandishing several strips of dried meat which always reminded Honor of old leather, and then Consuela gave a shout of laughter. “We will eat like royalty tonight.”
* * * *
“What did you say to Honor to annoy her so much?”
With studied care, Juan bent down, chose a handful of pebbles, and began aiming them at a small protrusion of rock beyond the flat ground at the entrance to the cave. “Until we met your French friend, I was convinced Mrs. Beaumont had betrayed her husband.”
“Devil-a-bit, whatever made you think that?”
“Let us take a walk.” With a backward glance, Juan caught Vidal's sleeve and urged him out of earshot of the women. “I am, was, Beaumont's contact. It was my job to send the information, too sensitive to be included with the earl's dispatches, to your Lord Dundas. We knew someone close to him was working for the French but failed to uncover him, or in this case, we thought, her⦔
“We?”
“There is certain information I cannot share with you, my lord.”
Vidal tilted his head in acknowledgement of Juan's sudden formality. “Tell me, did the âwe' include Lord Dundas?” And when Juan shook his head, added, “Go on.”
“The Turk set up a communication line across our country, and another into Gibraltar. We tried to set one up in Portugal but it proved too difficult and unreliable so we abandoned it.” Juan stuffed his hands into the pockets of his breeches, stared ahead for several silent minutes, and then on a sigh, began again. “They worked in much the same way as all Resistance networks do. About six months ago we realised someone was tampering with Lord Beaumont's communiqués, and that whoever it was had to be close, very close to him.
“We narrowed the possibilities down to two: his batman and his wife. We set a watch on both, and still could not discover the culprit.”
“Did Lord Beaumont know about the breach of security?”
Juan shook his head. “We told him and he refused to believe us.”
“So what changed his mind?”
“Your Lord Dundas alerted the Earl of Wellington, who informed Beaumont on that last morning of his intention to add two extra members to his departing party.”
“Yourself being one of them I suppose? And the other?”
Juan pointed to the cave.
“Consuela? How can that be? She was abandoned on the road before we even joined Phillipe at the hut. The men who escorted my lady were Phillipe's men.”
“No, they were not.”
Vidal shoved his fingers through his hair and stared at Juan. “How can that be?” he asked again.
“We inserted them into Phillipe's village almost as soon as we became aware Beaumont's messages were being tampered with, while I joined Wellington's army.”
“How come Phillipe did not recognise you when you offered to escort us to the English Channel?”
“Enough to say he did not.”
“I see, go on. I presume you have no intention of sharing how you set up that tragic little scene where she was picked up by my lady's party?”
Juan shook his head.
“There is more?”
“You have to understand, the disappearance of Beaumont's wife and batman together did not look good. As far as I was concerned it offered sufficient evidence that both were involved in the betrayal.”
“What changed your mind? Your greeting to Phillipe this morning indicates you knew without question he was responsible for Lord Beaumont's death.”
“That evening Lady Beaumont could not sleep, I, too was awake. You have to understand, I wondered why she told you we were being followed. I knew it, but thought they were trailing us in order to rescue my lady. It was not until I listened to your conversation that I began to understand she was innocent. And yet she left immediately after the attack on her husband. I could not understand why she would not wait to learn of his fate.
“Beaumont insisted she obey Phillipe as he'd already got his batman's promise to spirit my lady to safety. Do you think it was coincidence the French reached his village days after I knew Lady Beaumont had left, and after we spoke with him?”
“It seems I have badly underestimated you.” Vidal did not attempt to hide his irony. “And if you still suspected my lady when we reached the French boarder?”
“I would have turned you both over to the French.”
One look at Juan's face revealed the truth of his words. “And what now? Are you aware Gervaise Dumas is known in England as
l
e
d
uc
, and heads up Napoleon's Bureau of Information?”
“I am.”
“So what are you going to do when we reach Irun? Or are you already known to Dumas? For if you were not, you will be now.”
“Oh we are both wanted by the French.” Hatred lashed through his voice. “Why do you think our villages were torched? We have to live with that! Those people died because we fought to make Spain a better place. Even though the villagers supported us, they didn't deserve to die for it, and certainly not the way they did.” He swung away and thumped one fist into the palm of his other hand.
“Nearly three thousand people died because we worked to save our country. Three thousand, Vidal.”
Juan stared past him towards the entrance of the cave. “We have both vowed to take
le d
uc
down.”
“How did he find out about you?”
“My brother. He led Gervaise Dumas to both villages and set the first torch on each occasion. While
le d
uc
promises to set you on a boat for England, Consuela and I will also sail to your country and when we leave the French shore, my people will seek retribution for their crimes against our people. Be assured, he knows who we are, and many in my country know who and what he is and those who have helped him destroy so many innocent people in my country.”
With fists clamped to his side, Juan turned from his study of the horizon to stare at Vidal. “No, even if I do not live long enough to see it Spaniards from every corner of my country will seek revenge for what my brother and his French friend have done to them.”
Vidal didn't doubt it as Juan strode away. Nor did he doubt
le
duc
had left them to their own devices unobserved. Getting the Spaniards into, and across, France promised to be a challenge.
* * * *
First week in October 1812
Seven days later, Honor woke to unfamiliar brightness in the cave and Vidal's hand on her arm. “We cannot stay here any longer. Do you feel well enough to continue our journey?”
Bleary from sleep and the cold that seeped up from the cave floor, Honor struggled into a sitting position. After a week of rest the smallest movement still shot spikes of pain through her ribcage.
“Bruised, definitely, probably fractured,” Consuela told her the day after her accident, “but not broken, I think.” She'd nodded with what Honor considered altogether too bright a smile while she'd rubbed in some lotion she'd prepared the previous night. “Definitely not broken.”
“Well, that's a relief,” Honor said and sucked in her breath when even Consuela's gentle touch sent sparks of pain shooting through her body.
Now she stared at Vidal kneeling beside her.
“It is snowing. If we do not make haste soon, it will not be possible to reach the French border because the pass will be blocked.”
“Then help me up and by the time you have made everything ready I will join you.”
Emerging from the cave Honor found her three companions embroiled in a heated discussion.
“What is wrong?”
All three sprang apart at her query then Vidal stepped forward.
“Juan and Consuela intend to go their separate ways a couple of days before we reach Irun.”
She didn't bother to ask why. They'd revealed their part in her safe passage across Spain. “You think you'll have a better chance of survival if you leave us?” She walked up to Juan and prodded him in the chest. “If Dumas knows all about you, do you not think he intends you to share in my humiliation when we reach England?”
Although he tried to mask it, Honor saw her question took him by surprise.
“I am sure Vidal has told you the man is accepted by the
ton
everywhere. Think of the boost to his standing if he not only sends me home as a traitor, but also displays you both as conspirators in my crimes. While resting⦔ She waved her hand in the direction of their abandoned accommodation. “I have thought about what he said and his declared intentions.” She held up a hand to prevent interruption. “You say you are working for our government?” She raised her finger from Juan's chest to wave it in front of his face. “Then let them help you and Consuela.” She paused, looked towards the Spanish woman and noted her cautious appraisal. “Unless, of course, you have been playing a game of your own?”
“You ungrateful⦔
She watched Juan struggle for words suitable for her ears and still insulting enough to put her in her place, and stood firm. While she might still be racked with pain from her tumble, she wasn't out, to paraphrase another of Vidal's boxing terms.
“Be assured of this. I am grateful for what you and Consuela have done so far, which makes it the more puzzling that you intend to quit at the final hurdle.”
“We do not quit.” Consuela bounced forward, fire sparking from her eyes. “We make our own way to your country.”
“If you try to disappear, I am sure his men will inform Dumas within hours and he will hunt you down.”
The Spaniards' silence said it all, and Honor wondered whether it had occurred to them
le d
uc's
men would continue to shadow their movements.
“I thought,” she added, while heading for the mule obviously waiting to carry her, “we had to move quickly before the snow prevents us from going anywhere. If that is the case, what are we waiting for?”
“Bravo, my dear. It relieves me to see you are on the way back to being your old self again. I swear I have missed your waspish tongue. Now before I get stung, pray, let me help you onto your mount.”
Unable to prevent the ripple of laughter that escaped, Honor put her hand on Vidal's arm to stay him.
“I fear for them, Vidal,” she said, suddenly serious. “And you may not believe me, but I will miss them if, or when, they go their own ways.” She transferred her hand to grasp the reins, and let Vidal lift her into the saddle.