Philippe Arceneaux,' said Sebastian, `he's going to take the truth of it to the grave.'
Sebastian had already identified one of the recaptured French officers, a Lyonnais by the name of François LeBlanc, as the second of the two men who had jumped him that night in Covent Garden. The man confessed that he and his fellow officer had attacked Sebastian out of fear the Viscount's persistent probing might uncover their escape plan. But the Frenchman swore he knew nothing about Arceneaux's death.
Lovejoy sighed. `You think Arceneaux abandoned his plans to escape with his comrades for the sake of Miss Tennyson?'
`I think so, yes.'
`But then, why, once she was dead, didn't he reconsider?'
`Perhaps he'd come to regret the decision to break his parole. Although I think it more likely because he suspected his comrades of killing the woman he loved. He said as much to me right before he was shot, only at the time I didn't know enough to understand what he was saying.'
They walked out the prison gates into the brilliant morning sunlight. The rain had cleared the dust and filth from the city streets to leave the air blessedly clean and fresh. Lovejoy said,
`I'm told the children's father, the Reverend Tennyson, has arrived from Lincolnshire. Fortunately, Hildeyard provided us with a full confession, so young George shouldn't need to testify against him.'
`Thank God for that,' said Sebastian. The previous night, while they were waiting for Bow Street to reach Camlet Moat, Sebastian and the boy had sat side by side in the golden light of the lantern, the rain falling softly around them. In hushed tones, George had told Sebastian of how they'd been playing hide-and-seek that morning after church. Gabrielle was it and the two boys were hiding behind the heavy velvet drapes at the dining room windows when Hildeyard came barging into the house. Much of the argument between brother and sister had gone over George's head. But the confrontation had ended in the dining room, with Hildeyard grabbing the carving knife from the table in a fit of rage to stab Gabrielle.
The boys had remained hidden, silent and afraid, until Hildeyard stormed from the house probably to fetch a gig. Then George grabbed Alfred's hand and ran to his friends the Gypsies.
Lovejoy said, `To think the man went out every day looking for his young cousins. even posted a reward! I was most impressed with him. He seemed such an admirable contrast to the boys uncle.'
`Well, unlike d'Eyncourt, Hildeyard sincerely wanted to find the boys and silence them. He might have made a great show of hiring men to comb the countryside around the moat, but he advertised the reward he was offering here in London and set up a solicitor in an office in Fleet Street to screen any information that might come in.'
Lovejoy nodded. `The solicitor has proved most anxious to cooperate with us, for obvious reasons. Seems he received a tip yesterday from a wherryman who'd seen the two lads with the Gypsies. Of course, he claims he was utterly ignorant of Tennyson's real reason for wanting to find the boys.'
`I suspect that he's telling the truth.'
`One would hope so. He also admits to having put Tennyson in contact with the ruffian who attacked you beside the Thames yesterday once again claiming no knowledge of Tennyson's purpose in hiring such an unsavory individual.'
`A most incurious gentleman, if he's to be believed.'
`He claims it's an occupational hazard.'
`I assume he'll hang?'
`Tennyson, you mean? I should think so.' Lovejoy paused to look back at the prison's grim facade. `Unfortunately, he insists he knows nothing about the death of the French lieutenant. I'd like to believe Pelletier or one of the other escaping officers was responsible. But I don't know. I just don't know.'
He glanced over at Sebastian, the magistrate's brows drawing together in a frown as if he knew there was something Sebastian was keeping from him.
But Sebastian only shook his head and said, `I wonder if the boys would be interested in a dog.'
He came to Hero in the quiet of the afternoon, when the sun streamed golden through the open windows of her bedchamber and the breeze wafted clean and sweet.
She was watching a small boy and girl roll a hoop along the pavement, their joyous shouts and laughter carrying on the warm breeze. She didn't realize she was crying until he touched his fingers to her wet cheeks and turned her to him.
`Hero,' he said softly. `Why now?'
The night before, she had insisted on driving out to Camlet Moat with Lovejoy and his men. The magistrate hadn't wanted her to come, but she had overridden his objections, impatient with every delay and tense but silent until they arrived at the old chase. Then, for one intensely joyous moment, her gaze had met Devlin's across the misty dark waters of the moat. But she had turned away almost at once to focus all her attention on the comfort and care of her dead friend's nine-year-old cousin.
And she hadn't shed a tear.
Now she laid her head against his shoulder, marveling at the simple comfort to be found in the strength of his arms around her and the slow beat of his heart so close to hers. She said, `I was thinking about Gabrielle. About how she felt as if she were missing out on all the joys and wonders that make life worth living. And so she gave in to her love for Lieutenant Arceneaux. And then she died because of it.'
`She didn't die because she loved. She died because she was noble and honest and wanted to do the right thing, whereas her brother wanted only his own pleasure. Her choice didn't need to end in tragedy.'
`Yet it did.'
`It did, yes.'
A silence fell between them. And she learned that the silence of a shared sorrow could also bring its own kind of comfort.
His hand shifted in a soft caress. She sucked in a shaky breath, then another, and raised her head to meet his gaze. His lips were parted, the sunlight glazing the high bones of his cheeks.
`Did you close the door behind you?' she asked, her voice husky with undisguised want.
`Yes.'
Her gaze still locked with his, she brushed her lips against his.
`Good.'
She saw the flare of surprise in his eyes, felt his fingers tug impatiently at the laces that held her gown. He said, `It's not dark yet.'
She gave him a wide, saucy smile. `I know.'
Later much later Sebastian lay beside her in a shaft of moonlight spilling through the open window. She raised herself on one bent arm, her fingertips skimming down over his naked chest and belly. He drew in his breath with a quiet hiss, and she smiled.
`Is the offer of a honeymoon still open?' she asked.
He crooked his elbow about her neck. `I think we deserve one, don't you?'
She shifted so that her forearms rested on his chest, her hair falling forward to curtain her face, her eyes suddenly serious.
`We can do better than this, Sebastian.'
He drew her closer, one hand drifting to the small of her back.
`In the end I'd say we worked quite well together.' He brought up his free hand to catch her hair away from her face. `But I think we can do better, yes.'
And he raised his head to meet her kiss.
Author s Note
This story was inspired by Alfred, Lord Tennyson's haunting poem The Lady of Shalott, first published in 1833, then revised and republished in 1842. Tennyson himself was inspired by a thirteenth-century Italian novella, La donna di Scalotta.
Gabrielle and Hildeyard Tennyson are fictional characters of my own invention, but the family of Alfred Tennyson was indeed plagued by epilepsy, alcoholism, and insanity. The poet's own father, a brilliant but troubled
