Читать книгу A Stranger at Castonbury - Amanda McCabe, Amanda McCabe - Страница 10

Jamie stood on the muddy banks of the Bidasoa river and examined its rough currents as the rain that had been threatening to come down all morning now beat at his head. He wiped the drops from his eyes and tried to look across to the other side, but the storm was too thick and grey.

‘What do you think, Señor Hatherton?’ he heard Xavier Sanchez say.

He turned to face the Spaniard, who stood several safer feet back with the horses. Xavier was one of the Spanish agents working for the British government and had been Jamie’s contact on many previous errands. He was usually a brave man, but today his dark eyes were cautious as he peered out at the river from under his sodden hat.

Jamie turned back to the water. His instructions had been clear; he had to get to Toulouse before the regiment and rendezvous with their Spanish contacts. He had to cross the river to do that, just as the rest of the army would soon have to do, and time was of the essence.

And the sooner he finished this job, the sooner he would be able to return to Catalina … and the sooner they could start a real life together.

‘We need to move closer to Toulouse as soon as possible,’ Jamie said. ‘And you must carry word back to camp of an “accident” so we can separate.’

‘But the river, señor …’

‘We are travelling light,’ Jamie said. And he was a strong swimmer from long days on the lake at Castonbury with his siblings. ‘I need to move today. You can follow on later, as we planned.’

Sanchez looked doubtful, but he nodded. ‘I will follow with the horses soon, Señor Hatherton.’

Jamie stripped off his coat and boots and tucked them then into the saddlebags. He carefully waded into the water that rushed up over the banks. It was freezing cold, swollen by the rain, and his legs went numb as the currents swirled around them. When the water reached his waist, he took a breath and dived deep.

The cold closed over him like a thousand knives, but he pushed away the pain and kept swimming. He couldn’t see anything around him, just swirls of grey and brown. He could only push towards where he knew the opposite bank lay. The deception of his accident had suddenly become all too real.

He was moving strongly, the only thought in his mind his goal. Suddenly a strong current jolted him like a blow to the midsection. It caught him and tossed him around, pushing him even as he fought against it. He felt himself being swept inexorably downstream, twisted and turned.

He struggled fiercely against the water, writhing in its powerful grip. Everything was turning grey and hazy as he couldn’t surface for a breath.

Catalina’s face was suddenly clear in his mind, her smile, her dark eyes. He had to fight this, to get back to her.

Something suddenly brushed past his hand, and he reached out to grab on to it. It was the root of a tree on the bank, sticking out into the river. He held on to its rough, delicate-seeming strength even as the water worked to claim him. He pulled himself up and sucked in a deep breath of precious air.

But the respite was not to last. Something hard and heavy, borne on the current, slammed into his body. He fell back down into the deep water and his head landed on something sharp. As if from a distance, he heard a sickening crack. There was a piercing pain—and everything went dark as the river closed over him.

‘Catalina! Quick, over here. I need your help.’

Catalina spun around from the bandage she was tying off on a wounded arm to see one of the other nurses and the English doctor labouring over another patient. She gave her own soldier one more smile and hurried to help them.

The hospital tent had been chaos all day. The push to Toulouse was beginning in earnest, with different regiments pouring through and leaving their wounded to be seen to. Most of them moved on after, in a hurry to join with the main forces, but the people who were left had to tend to the sick and arrange for their transportation onwards as the French were in quick pursuit. The rain that had been pouring down steadily only added to the clamour, miring everyone in mud and damp. Gunfire was constantly heard in the distance.

Catalina had hardly slept or eaten since Jamie left. She had no time to think of such things as she ran from task to task, always hearing those explosions in the distance, rivalling the thunder. The world had shrunk to only that noise, and emergency after emergency.

But she couldn’t cease worrying about Jamie. Was he well? Was he safe? What dangerous task was he embroiled in? Reports of flooding at the Bidasoa made her even more concerned. She had received no message from him yet.

All she could do was keep working, keep helping everyone she could.

‘Soon,’ she whispered as she rinsed her hands in a basin. Jamie would be back soon.

As she dried her hands, she glimpsed the sapphire ring glinting on her finger. It was always with her, reminding her of hopes and dreams that felt so very fragile now.

She pushed away her worries and went to help with the new patient. Once he was seen to, there was another and then another. The day had grown very late by the time she was able to duck out of the hot, stuffy tent for a breath of fresh air.

The rain had ceased for the moment, though the sound of gunfire seemed even closer. Catalina found a quiet spot by a tree just outside camp where she could be alone just for an instant. She tilted her head back to stare at the dark grey sky and let the cool breeze wash over her.

She thought about what Jamie had said about his home, about the beauty and peace of it. She feared she would get lost in its grandeur, but she did long for something pretty, something quiet. Someplace where she could walk with Jamie, hand in hand, the two of them in the fresh English spring.

‘Mrs Moreno, what a surprise,’ someone said suddenly, shattering her reverie. ‘I so seldom see you alone.’

Catalina whirled around to see Hugh Webster smiling at her. The man seemed friendly, but somehow she always felt so uncomfortable when he was around her. He was friends with Colonel Chambers and had thus been assigned to help pack up the regiment and follow them on later while most of the men pushed ahead in greater danger. She had been working so hard she had hardly seen him, but here he was, right in front of her, as if he had been watching for her to be alone.

And he was standing much too close to her.

‘We all have many tasks these days, Captain Webster,’ she answered.

‘True. Yet you have always seemed to have the time to speak to Hatherton.’

Catalina was puzzled by the bitter note in the man’s voice. He smiled at her, but his eyes were hard. ‘Lord Hatherton and I are friends.’

‘Indeed? I wish you would be my friend, Mrs Moreno—Catalina. I am sure we could benefit each other a great deal.’

He took a step closer, until his arm brushed hers and she could smell the scent of his body. Catalina stumbled back until she felt the rough bark of the tree.

‘Benefit each other?’ she stammered.

‘Of course, my dear. You must have seen how I admire you. It can be very lonely here, can it not? Especially for a woman in your … situation.’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Catalina managed to say, shocked and starting to be frightened.

She spun around to hurry away, but suddenly his hand closed hard on her arm and dragged her back.

‘Oh, I think you do know what I mean,’ he said roughly. His arms came around her like a vice and his mouth swooped down on hers, open and hungry.

Catalina was engulfed in a cold panic. It felt as if prison walls were squeezing in on her, and nausea choked her. Webster’s kiss was nothing like Jamie’s; it didn’t even deserve the same name. She fought against him, but he was too strong and held her fast. One of his hands closed on her breast through her muslin gown and he pinched painfully at her nipple.

Catalina screamed against his mouth and felt him laugh. That sound infuriated her. She managed to wriggle enough room between them to bring her knee up and slam it between his legs. When he shouted, she bit down on his lip and tasted coppery blood.

As he fell to the ground, she wrenched away and ran. She heard him scream out behind her. ‘Whore!’ he called. ‘Hatherton’s whore. You’ll be sorry for this.’

‘I am his wife!’ Catalina screamed. ‘Not his whore, you dirty cochino.’

She kept running, still half blind with fear. At first she didn’t know what a sudden booming noise was, she was so disoriented. But as she stumbled and half fell to her knees, she saw a flaring flash of flame arc over the sky and heard cries.

The camp was being directly shelled.

As she watched, horrorstruck, more explosions went off around the camp amid shouts and screams. Fires were flaring up. She pushed herself up and ran towards the nearest tent. A shell exploded not far away, making her ears ring, but she kept going. She had to help if she could.

She glimpsed a figure lying on the ground, horribly still. It was the nurse she had worked with over the patient earlier. Catalina knelt down next to her, but she quickly saw it was too late to help her at all.

Suddenly a hand grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet.

‘Run, Catalina!’ the man shouted. ‘We must find shelter now.’

Catalina turned her head and saw it was the English doctor, leading a couple of the more mobile wounded soldiers from the burning camp.

‘But the others …’ she gasped.

‘Those who could flee have already gone,’ the doctor answered. ‘I fear the chaplain has been killed. The French are close in their pursuit. We must go, now.’

Catalina ran with him back towards the trees, where they found a hiding place in the shadows, their heads down as the shells flew overhead and they prayed the French armies wouldn’t find them. Once darkness gave them cover, they fled towards the village with the few other survivors.

Only the next morning, as they stumbled out onto the road to Seville, did she see to her horror that she had lost her precious sapphire ring….

‘So you are alive.’

Jamie opened his eyes to find a man standing over him, his features a blur from the light that streamed from the windows behind him. It was the first time he had heard anyone speak in that crisp English accent in days, ever since Sanchez had pulled him out of the river and slung him over the horse to find a hospital. They had ended in this house in a small village.

At first Jamie had been in such a strange dream state he was able to remember nothing at all. Only snatches of hazy memories, like a summer’s day in the Castonbury gardens and Catalina’s hand in his as they walked down the aisle. Gradually things became clearer, the pain sharper, and he cursed his damnable weakness. He had to finish what he had set out to do and get back to Catalina.

The man stepped back, and Jamie saw it was Lord Cawley, who had been his contact for secret work in Spain, the man who had sent him the letter requesting his assistance in the matter with the royal family.

There was surely only one thing he would be doing there.

Jamie gave a humourless laugh and pushed himself up against the pillows. ‘I hadn’t thought to see you so soon, Cawley.’

‘No? Why not? I came at once when Sanchez sent word you were injured. We feared you might have died.’

‘And thus you would get no more work out of me?’

‘You have been one of our best operatives, Hatherton,’ Cawley said. He pulled up a straight-backed wooden chair and sat down. His thin, lined face looked even harsher than usual. ‘These are perilous days. After the French are gone, we have to be sure Spain is once again a friendly ally for England. It is of vital importance.’

‘And you think King Ferdinand is the answer to that,’ Jamie said drily.

‘It is. He is not the finest choice, we admit, but he is the best option for now. Europe must have stability once Napoleon is gone. You are the best choice for such a vital and delicate operation.’

‘I fear I can no longer be of help to you,’ Jamie said.

‘No?’ Cawley tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair, watching Jamie steadily. ‘That is unfortunate. The timing could not be better for our scheme.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that it is already rumoured you died in the river, tragically swept away. You could go undercover with no one the wiser.’ Cawley gestured around the quiet little white room. ‘No one knows where you are. And sadly your camp was destroyed by the French in the chaos after you departed.’

Jamie sat up straight, his muscles tense with alarm, his mind buzzing. Surely he had not just heard the man’s words right. ‘The camp was destroyed?’

‘Yes. You have not been told? Such a tragedy. So many lives lost, including the wounded and even women.’ Cawley reached inside his coat and withdrew a small scrap of blue-grey muslin. He unwrapped it to reveal a sapphire ring.

The gold was scratched and dirt was caught in the setting, but Jamie could see it was his mother’s ring. The one he had slipped onto Catalina’s finger. Wrapped in a torn shred of one of her work dresses.

‘This was found in the camp ruins,’ Cawley said. ‘Yours, I think. It has your family motto engraved inside.’

He tossed it across the room and Jamie caught it. Validus Superstes was indeed engraved on the inside. Catalina had vowed she would never take it off after their wedding. If it was here, in Cawley’s possession …

‘You gave it to someone?’ Cawley said quietly.

‘I can’t imagine you would have dropped it yourself.’

‘A lady named Catalina Moreno,’ Jamie answered, closing his fist around the ring as if that would bring her back to him. Even in that moment he could feel her slipping further and further away.

Cawley nodded. ‘The Spanish nurse. One of the lost, I fear.’

Lost. Catalina was lost, lost, lost. Those words echoed hollowly in his head, yet still he could not quite grasp them. She was the most vivid person he had ever known—how could she simply be gone, just like that?

A sharp pain shot through him, a jolt of purest, hottest grief. Then a cold numbness as if ice was slowly creeping around his heart.

‘Perhaps that is for the best,’ Cawley said. ‘Her brother was known to be a liberal, even though he has been long dead. She would only have stood in the way of what is best. And I would hate to see harm come to anyone in your family because you could not do your duty. I am sure you understand what I mean.’

Harm come to anyone in your family. Of course he knew what the man meant; it was a veiled threat pure and simple. Jamie tightened his hand on the ring until the edges of the stone cut into his flesh. He closed his eyes and let that ice cover him. It had to be better than the burn of grief, of knowing he would never see Catalina again and that he had not been there to save her when she needed him.

Yes—he had failed Catalina. And his family would be better off without him as well. Had he not run off and left them because he was unsure he could assume the responsibilities of a dukedom? Had he not already failed in his duty? At least he could protect them now by doing this task. And if he was lucky he would not return from it.

As if he sensed Jamie’s cold fury, Cawley rose from his chair and turned towards the door. ‘Everyone already believes you dead, Hatherton. It makes you the perfect one for this job. And when it’s over you can return to your family, knowing the service you did for your country. Send me word of your decision tomorrow.’

Then Jamie was alone. He closed his eyes and held on to the ring as if it was the last tether anchoring him to the real world. The last connection to his foolish dreams. Catalina was gone, and Cawley was right—it hardly mattered what happened to him now.

But first he had to do something for himself.