Читать книгу White Horses - Joan Wolf - Страница 6

London, February 25, 1813

The sun was starting to shine through the fog when, dressed in civilian clothes, Colonel Leo Standish, Earl of Branford, passed through the front door of the Horse Guards building, home of the War Office. There was just the faintest trace of a limp in his walk, legacy of a wound he had taken at the siege of Burgos several months before.

Branford entered a functional room painted in a rich, dark green, with a desk, a glass-fronted bookcase and a large table with a map spread out upon it. Two men were sitting on either side of the desk, and when the earl walked in they both rose to their feet.

“My lord,” John Herries, commissary-in-chief of the British Army, addressed him. “Thank you for coming. I don’t believe you’ve met Mr. Nathan Rothschild.”

“No, I have not. How do you do, Mr. Rothschild?” The earl came forward with an outstretched hand. He had certainly heard of Rothschild, the London scion of the industrious financial family, whose brothers were spread throughout Europe.

The short bald man was dressed in a flawless black coat, white necktie and buff pantaloons. He put his hand into the earl’s large grasp. “It is an honor to meet you, my lord,” he said.

The earl’s blue-green eyes moved from Rothschild to Herries. “What’s this all about, Herries?” he asked.

“Won’t you have a seat, my lord?” the commissary-in-chief said. “We have a job for you and I’d like to explain it.”

The earl drew his eyebrows together. “A job? I don’t have time to do any jobs, Herries. I am returning to my regiment next week.”

“If you would just let me explain, my lord…”

“Oh, all right.” The earl folded his six-foot-two body onto one of the chairs. “Go on.”

“I’m sure you are aware of the difficulties the Marquess of Wellington has been having with funds,” Herries began.

The earl nodded. “He needs to feed and pay the troops, and the local Spanish and Portuguese bankers won’t accept paper money anymore. He needs gold coin.”

Herries continued. “Mr. Rothschild has managed to buy up for us several million newly minted napoléon d’or coins in Holland.”

The earl’s face broke into a rare smile. “Good for you, Mr. Rothschild. Well done.”

Rothschild smiled back.

Herries went on. “Our only problem, my lord, is that we need a way to safely transport the gold to the army in Portugal.”

“It’s still in Holland?” the earl asked.

“Yes, and we need to get it through France to Wellington in Portugal. Needless to say, once the French government gets word of the sale of all those gold coins to Rothschild, they will be on the lookout for anything that might look like an English conveyance.”

The earl arched an eyebrow. “By any chance, does this job you have for me have something to do with the transportation of these coins?”

“It does, my lord.” Herries pulled at his lip, then turned to the other man. “I think I’ll let Mr. Rothschild explain.”

Rothschild looked earnestly at the tall, fair-haired man. “I have had some experience in this sort of thing, my lord. As you may or may not know, my family has transferred money around Europe all during the years of Napoléon’s regime. One of the most trustworthy means we have found for doing this is a French circus, the Cirque Equestre. The circus owner, François Robichon, used to be Master of the Horse to Louis XVI, and he has no love for the Revolution or for Napoléon. The circus can travel anywhere without question, and Pierre has moved money for us successfully on a number of occasions.”

“Two of the circus wagons have false bottoms where the gold can be stored,” Herries put in.

The earl nodded. “It sounds like an excellent idea, but how does it involve me?”

Herries looked at the splendid young man who was sitting across from him. He had never met the Earl of Branford before, and faced with the man in person, a task that had once seemed reasonable now seemed highly improbable. He looked again at Nathan Rothschild.

Nathan continued. “Very unfortunately, François died several months ago and the circus is now headed by his daughter. I am hesitant to commit such a large sum of money to the care of so young a girl. I want her to have a British escort to make certain that the money gets safely to Portugal.”

“And I want her to have a British escort to keep her honest. We don’t want little fingers dipping into the gold bags,” Herries said bluntly.

Now both of the earl’s eyebrows went up. “A British escort would most certainly draw French attention to the circus, exactly what you are trying to avoid.”

“Not if the escort pretended to be a part of the circus,” Rothschild reasoned bluntly.

There was a moment of silence. “And you want that escort to be me?” the earl asked at last.

Herries shifted on his chair. The earl hadn’t changed his own position, but there was a dangerous look in his eyes. Herries cleared his throat. “That’s right, my lord.”

“May I ask whose idea it was to attach me to a circus?” the earl asked, his pleasant voice in contrast to the look in his eyes.

Herries could not bring himself to meet that blue-green gaze. “Lord Castlereagh put forth your name, my lord. As you can understand, he is quite anxious that the gold arrive as safely and as promptly as possible. Wellington will need it to finance his next campaign and his subsequent entry into France.”

Silence. Finally the earl asked with awful courtesy, “Am I supposed to—perform?”

“Of course not, my lord,” the two men chorused in horror.

The earl linked his long, manicured fingers together on his lap. “Then how are we to account for my sudden attachment to a circus? I speak French, but not like a Frenchman. And I’m not the sort of person who just blends into the background,” he added ironically.

“We have thought about that problem, my lord, and we have come up with a solution,” Herries assured him. “You will pretend to be Gabrielle Robichon’s new husband.”

This time the earl’s eyebrows almost disappeared under the lock of golden hair that had fallen over his forehead. “What?”

Herries said earnestly, “It is the only way to disguise you, my lord, other than making you a performer. Mademoiselle Robichon’s family will have to know the truth, but the rest of the circus performers will think you are married.”

“I see,” the earl said slowly. “I am to pretend to be the husband of a circus owner.”

Herries and Rothschild exchanged glances. Neither one of them dared to answer.

There was a long silence.

“I suppose I shall have to do it,” the earl finally said. “It’s essential that the money get to the army.”

For the first time Herries realized that he had been holding his breath. He let it out slowly.

Rothschild said, “Thank you, my lord. I realize that this duty may be distasteful to you, but we do feel it is necessary.”

“And the girl is willing to pretend that I am her husband?”

Rothschild nodded decisively. “She agreed.”

The earl asked, “What’s in it for her? Are you paying her to carry the gold?”

Rothschild said with dignity, “Of course I will pay her, but she is also doing it because she knows her father would want her to. François Robichon was a royalist through and through.”

The earl unlaced his fingers. “Where am I to meet this circus?”

Herries said, “I think it would be a good idea for you and Gabrielle to meet in Brussels. That is where you will tell people that you were married. Then you can return to the circus together.”

“Very well.” The earl stood up. “I imagine you would like me to get started as soon as possible.”

“Yes, my lord. Gabrielle will be waiting for you at the Hôtel Royale.”

“Is there any particular name I am to go by?”

Herries said, “You could use your given name, my lord. I don’t think anyone would recognize it.”

The earl smoothed one of his sleeves. “Very well. I will meet this Gabrielle and go with her to the circus, where I will pretend to be her husband. What about the gold?”

“It will be loaded into the circus wagons before you get there, my lord. You should be able to start your journey immediately.”

“How long will it take us to get to Portugal?”

“If you get the gold to Biarritz, the army will take it over the Pyrenees to Wellington,” Rothschild said. “The journey from Lille to Biarritz should take about a month, my lord. The circus will have to make stops to perform. It would look suspicious if it didn’t.”

The earl’s finely chiseled lips settled into a grim line. “The things I do for my country,” he said. “Very well. I will leave for Brussels tomorrow.”

“Thank you, my lord,” both men chorused. After the earl had gone and the door was closed behind him, both Herries and Rothschild looked at each other. “Couldn’t Castlereagh have gotten someone who was not quite so noticeable?” Rothschild said.

Herries shook his head. “He wanted Lord Branford. Said if anyone could get the money through, it was he.”

Rothschild said, “I hope he was right, Herries. I hope he was right.”

Outside, the earl got into his chaise, tipped the boy who had been holding his grays and started the horses, driving through the city streets toward Grosvenor Square, where his town house was located. He pulled into the mews behind the house, relinquished his horse and carriage to one of his grooms, and went into the house from the back.

He was surprised by his eighteen-year-old sister in the hallway in front of the library.

“Oh, there you are, Leo,” Dolly cried. “Mama and I have come to call on you.”

“Have you?” he asked. “And whose idea was that?”

“Mine. Come into the drawing room and join us.”

“I can’t stay long, I have things to do. I am leaving for the Peninsula tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Dolly was clearly upset. “So soon?” Her gaze dropped to his injured leg.

“I am perfectly healthy. There’s no reason for me to linger in England when my regiment needs me.”

“But there is a reason,” Dolly lamented. “I wanted you to help me with my come-out. I thought you could be my escort to Almacks when I make my first appearance there.”

“Good God,” the earl said. “Whatever put that into your head?”

“Well, there is one other thing you can do for me. Come along and talk to Mama,” Dolly said, and, taking her brother’s arm, steered him past the magnificent circular staircase into the marble-floored front hall and thence into the drawing room, which looked out onto Grosvenor Square. Sitting on a gold velvet sofa in front of an alabaster fireplace was a lovely middle-aged woman whose hair was so fair that it scarcely showed the white that had begun to streak it.

“Hello, Leo,” she said quietly.

“Hello, Mama,” he replied. He made no attempt to go to her. “This is a surprise.”

“Dolly dragged me. We are planning her come-out and she has a question she wants to ask you.”

His eyes, the same shade as his mother’s, moved to his sister’s animated face. “What question?” he asked.

His sister looked at him pleadingly. “Please, can we use the ballroom here at Standish House for my come-out ball? It would be so wonderful to have it here. If we have it at Jasper’s house we will have to use the drawing room, and it isn’t very big.”

Jasper Marley, Lord Rivers, was Dolly and Leo’s stepfather. Dolly, along with Leo’s two young brothers and his half brother, lived with her mother and stepfather.

Leo looked at his mother. “Was this Dolly’s idea or yours?”

“Believe it or not, the idea was Dolly’s,” she replied composedly.

“Yes, it was,” Dolly said. “I think Papa would want me to have the best come-out, Leo. I think he would want me to use the ballroom.”

He looked into his sister’s anxious face. “I’m sure he would. Of course you may use the ballroom. But I won’t be here for the great occasion.” He turned his eyes back to his mother. “I am leaving tomorrow for the Peninsula.”

Her fair eyebrows drew together with concern. “Must you go back, Leo? Surely you have done more than your share in this war. You’re twenty-eight. It’s time for you to be thinking of marrying and setting up your nursery. You have the succession to think of.”

His mouth set. “I have two younger brothers, Mama. If something happens to me, the earldom will stay in the family. And I believe in finishing what I start. The war is not over yet.”

She met and held his eyes. “You took a bullet in your leg. You may not be so lucky the next time.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Would you care?”

Her eyes watered. “Of course I would care! You’re my son.”

“Lucky me,” he replied.

Dolly said anxiously, “I wish you wouldn’t fight with Mama, Leo. I know you don’t like Jasper, but he’s not that bad. I think you and Mama should make up your quarrel before you go back to the war.”

“We don’t have a quarrel,” the earl said. “Do we, Mama?”

She surprised him by answering, “Yes, we do. And I wish we could put it behind us, Leo. I hate to see you going into danger again.” She stood up and clasped her hands in front of her. “Can’t you forgive me?”

His face was hard as stone. “Some things can’t be forgotten…or forgiven. And now, if there’s nothing more you need me for, I have a number of things to do before I leave tomorrow.”

A ripple of pain passed over his mother’s face.

“Leo!” Dolly said sharply.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Dolly,” he replied curtly. “You came here to get use of the ballroom—well, you’ve got it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do. Good afternoon.” He turned and strode out of the room.

“Mama, are you all right?” Dolly flew to her mother’s side.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Tears were running down Lady Rivers’s face.

“What is wrong?” Dolly asked in bewilderment. “Can Leo still be angry with you for marrying so soon after Papa died?”

“Leo has his reasons, Dolly. I don’t blame him for his actions toward me. I just wish he had a little more charity in his heart, that’s all.”

She took out her handkerchief and wiped her eyes dry. “Come along, dear.” She tried to smile. “Leo isn’t the only one who has things to do.”