Dangerous Knight by Elizabeth Johns

Chapter Twenty

Jack was almost late. He arrived on Adonis in the nick of time to take his place beside Philip, who gave him a look of exasperation. Fortunately, no one in the line of dignitaries in front of them seemed to notice.

“I do have a good explanation,” Jack said to Philip.

“Nothing that will affect the present, dare I say?”

“No, but I wish there was time for me to tell you the rest.”

“Then I suggest we turn our attention to protecting the Prince, after which we may consider the other problem.”

Jack looked out over the Park as they waited their turn to prance forward. It was a security nightmare, and a child’s dream. There was a sea of uniforms, with thousands of troops lined up in formation. The evening had been advertised as a family entertainment, with arcades, ale tents and vendors with stalls offering food, toys and games for everyone’s delight. Acrobats performed on swings and roundabouts, while the military band blew their tunes and the tavern taps overflowed.

If someone truly wanted the Prince dead, it would only take one well-placed shot. Jennings was certainly capable of such a mark, but why? Was being cast out of the army and England enough to cause such vitriol against her oft-ridiculed ruler?

“Have you discovered anything more on Jennings?” Jack asked Philip, noticing that Major Knight was also listening. Major Lloyd was at the far end of the foursome, and looked wholly in another world. Jack inclined his head toward Felix.

“Knight tracked him to a small hovel in Seven Dials, but he escaped.”

Jack cursed and Knight shook his head. “He left behind a small arsenal.”

“Then we must hope his aim is off, if that is his intention.”

The command was given and their formation moved forward before the crowd, to the cheers of the people.

A reenactment of the Battle of Trafalgar ensued on the Serpentine. Miniature recreations of sailing ships fought out England’s famous victory, which ended with them all being sunk. There was not a soldier or sailor who did not have to steel his nerves against such a display, for it instantly transported them back to the battlefield. As the national anthem began to play in the distance of Jack’s subconsciousness, he saw Major Lloyd charge off on his horse toward the trees.

“Did he see something?”

“I could not say.” Knight followed in hot pursuit, while Jack and Philip stayed to guard the Prince.

Wellington looked at them with a question on his face.

Philip gave a little shake of his head and Wellington turned back and whispered to the Prince.

Jack surveyed the crowd again; most appeared enamored of the display and fair which were going forward for their amusement.

He found Lady Maria, next to her mother, in the crowd. Instead of the display, Maria was watching where her brother had gone with great interest. Jack stayed at his post, even though he wished to find out what was happening; then the fireworks display began.

There were twelve-thousand troops on the parade ground and, Jack would wager, not one did not cringe when the explosions started. His attention was centered on the crowd where a shot could be taken from, as Prinny’s back and sides were well protected. Only a few more minutes of this, he prayed and then the Prince’s protection would be someone else’s responsibility.

The cracks and pops of loud explosions, followed by sizzling light in the evening sky, seemed to drag on and on. When a brief silence finally followed and the crowd sighed collectively with disappointment at the end, a loud disturbance erupted amongst the trees where Lloyd and Knight had disappeared.

Jack and Philip galloped off as soon as Wellington gave them the nod. They reached the trees and quickly dismounted, tossing the reins to some nearby infantrymen.

“Manage the crowd!” Philip called to the soldiers.

He and Jack ran then, hastily ducking branches, and found Lloyd and Jennings scuffling, with Knight trying to pull them apart.

They at once rushed to assist and soon had the two men separated. Naturally, since the fireworks had ceased, the crowd began to gather around them, eager to see what the next diversion was. Jack uttered a few choice epithets and hoped some of the troops would be able to push them back in quick order.

He surveyed the area and tried to assess the situation. Jennings appeared to be alone, but there was a cache of rifles and ammunition beneath a tree. He looked up to see the perfect branch for a sharpshooter. It was now dark and difficult to fully ascertain the position.

“Seize him and take him to the barracks!” Major Lloyd commanded.

“On what grounds?” Jennings asked breathlessly.

Anyone who knew the name knew who he was, but it would take time to prove and he looked anything but a soldier. With long, grey hair and shaggy beard, he resembled a street beggar. The longer he could delay, of course, the better his chances of escape—especially if Newsom was behind this plot. Were that the case, Jennings’ chances of escape were excellent.

“The game is over, Jennings,” Lloyd spat. “Besides desertion, you have now tried to assassinate the Prince Regent!”

Jennings tried to wrestle away from Philip and Jack, but between them they were able to subdue him.

Newsom arrived then, looking harried and out of breath. “What is the meaning of this?” He turned toward the crowd. “There is nothing to see here. Merely a deserter! Form a barrier, now!” he shouted to the soldiers standing nearby, also gawking.

Jack was quite certain that would only tempt the crowd to have a better look.

“Tell them the truth!” Jennings shouted at Newsom, while again beginning to fight against their hold. He clearly sensed he was about to be made the scapegoat. “I am not the traitor! ’Twas not the Prince I was aiming for!”

Becoming restless, the crowd grew louder and shouted for more.

“Silence him! Take him to the barracks, now!” Newsom shouted. The people’s control was held only by a thin thread.

“Tell them!” Jennings taunted, sensing he had the upper hand despite the bonds holding him back.

“Take him now!” the general commanded, his face as red as his scarlet uniform. He turned to the mob and tried a different tactic. “There is nothing to tell but the wild stories he has conjectured in his mind whilst in prison.”

“There are documents that tell of the treason of four men!” At this, Jack and Philip’s gazes met over Jennings’s shoulders. This was what they needed to hear, but it was in the worst place possible.

Knight had released Lloyd and come to assist with binding Jennings’s hands and feet. They began to drag him away and the barrier of troops parted to make way for them.

“Treason and murder, I tell you! It happened in India!” Jennings made one last, desperate attempt to be heard. “General Newsom is a murderer!”

The mob began to shout for blood and demand Newsom’s neck.

“Nonsense! This is all a misunderstanding. I have proof!” Somehow, he managed to shout above the noise of the crowd. He pointed at Lloyd. “He is the real traitor!”

There was a collective gasp and Jack’s heart sank. He knew it was not the truth, but the public accusation would cause damage enough.

Lloyd stood still but said nothing as the assembled waited for a denial. There was none. All he did was shake his head and disappear into the throng. Knight followed him.

In the same moments, Newson bellowed, “Coward!”

Jack and Philip led Jennings through the parted crowd, the prisoner now being more cooperative. As Jack scanned about, looking for the horses, he spied Lady Maria, watching with Kate. What the devil was she doing there? He tried to catch his ward’s attention, but she did not even seem to see him. For a moment, he almost abandoned Philip to deal with Jennings, but it would not be right. He had no alternative but to hope Kate would be able to take care of herself.

*

Kate arrived atthe Park just in time to witness the altercation between Lloyd and Jennings. She did not know what to believe, but as she listened to it all, especially when Jennings mentioned India, scenes began to flash through her mind. Bits and pieces of memories bombarded her. She kept seeing her parents arguing with someone. They were shouting from the other room and she remembered climbing out of her bed, through mosquito netting, to go downstairs and see what the fuss was about.

“I cannot let you succeed in this,” her father said to a gentleman she could not place, though he seemed familiar.

“You have to take sides, Harrington,” the other gentleman said.

“As far as I am concerned, we are all on the same side – the side of England. I cannot allow you to implicate Wellesley for such a thing, when he had no part in it!”

“That is a shame, because I will not take the blame for it.”

“But you must. You killed Smythe today and his son was left orphaned.”

“It was a matter of honor!” the other argued, spreading his hands outwards in exasperation.

Her father shook his head. “Whose honor? You killed a man because you did not approve of his marriage to a local girl.”

“I can see you will not be reasoned with,” the gentleman said, and turning sideways, revealed a familiar profile. He had more hair, and his whiskers were brown, but Kate had no doubt it was Newsom.

Was this all some elaborate plot Newsom had fabricated to get rid of Wellington, not the Prince? Was is it all a matter of jealousy? Even in India, all those years ago, Wellesley had been in a high position—but was there bad blood there because of it?

Kate closed her eyes and tried to remember more.

“Give me the papers!” Newsom had demanded of her father.

Papa shook his head. “I cannot do that, Reginald. I have already written the account and sent them along with the other dispatches. Mottram also saw the whole.”

“Mottram agrees with me!”

“Perhaps his honor can be bought, but mine cannot. Now leave.” Her father turned toward the door.

Newsom growled with rage and leaped at her father. It was not a fair fight, as Kate saw the blade flash in the candlelight before it descended.

She gasped. Her father had been murdered! But what of her mother?

Painful as it was, she forced herself back to that time, fourteen years before.

Her mother had run into the room, screaming at Newsom and for her father as he gasped for air and breathed his last.

“It was an accident!” Newsom cried.

“You are evil!” her mother screamed. “What am I supposed to do now?” she wailed.

“I will take care of you, Sylvia. You and the girl.”

“In the same way, sir, whereby you intend to take care of Neville Smythe?”

“That is different! He is a bastard!”

“They were married, albeit not in the Anglican church,” she argued.

Newsom spat. “She is a harlot and nothing more.”

“She is a native of this land, so you and the others thought she was your plaything!” Kate could not remember her mother ever being so angry. She watched, in horror, as Newsom hit her mother hard, causing her to fall on the floor beside her husband. “No!” she cried, glancing to where Kate stood in the doorway. Subtly, she shook her head at Kate.

Young as she was, Kate realized her mother did not wish to draw attention to her.

“You are forcing me to do this, Sylvia. I would have taken you as my own and protected you,” Newsom said, slowly drawing the blade again.

Kate could watch no longer. She turned and ran out of the house and hid in some nearby bushes in the garden behind the house. A few minutes later, the house went up in smoke and she watched for hours while the servants emerged and then the villagers attempted to put out the fire. She stayed where she was until the house was nothing but a pile of ashes.

Soon after that, she was on a ship with her nurse, headed back to England.

“Kate! Kate!” Shestarted. Realizing she had been lost in memories, struggled to recall where she was.

“What has happened?” Maria demanded.

“I have just remembered something—something very important.”

“What is it?”

“I think we should find Captain Owens and Captain Everleigh,” Kate said softly. No wonder someone wanted her dead. They must know who she was and what she had seen. How could she have forgotten all of that?

“I suspect they have gone to the barracks with Jennings.” Maria looked around them. “It would appear my mother and father are leaving as well. Mayhap they propose to find Gabriel.”

“You should go with them. I will make my own way.”

Maria hesitated. “I daresay there is little risk to you now. Did your maid accompany you?”

“Yes, she is waiting over by the Cheesecake House.”

“Then I will go and try to comfort Mother. I will call on you in the morning.”

Kate watched Maria leave and stood watching as the crowd dispersed to the various entertainments around the Park. She was trembling inside and did not know what to do. Going to the barracks was not an option, and Kate still had no proof of Newsom’s villainy, nor yet could she put all the pieces of the puzzle together.

She passed a vendor selling pies, but was only peripherally aware. Someone bumped into her broken arm and the pain from that was enough to make her wince and stop.

“The key,” she said out loud. Surely the key had to be wherever the missing documents were being held. They must have been what was stolen, presumably because they could implicate Newsom, and possibly Lord Mottram. It had to be that information Lloyd had been trying to find and protect. “Poor Maria,” she whispered.

What she could not piece together was where Jennings and Feathers fitted into the conundrum. From the way Jennings spoke, he must have been in India when the murders happened.

Could Feathers have been the child her father and Newsom had been speaking about?

She wished she had the key so she could search. She continued walking, deep in thought and concentration, trying to sort through her new memories. She had been known as a Rafferty since returning to England. Her nurse had insisted upon it, so had she been privy to the truth?

Kate could hardly ask her now. She had returned to India after conveying Kate to school. Kate cried herself to sleep for weeks, feeling abandoned by the only connection to her parents and India she had left. She had lost everyone she’d loved in a short time.

Perhaps, Kate wondered, her arrival had caused events to escalate. She certainly felt partially responsible for Feathers’ death. Had she known him as a child? She could not bring him to mind. Smythe was certainly not the only one to have used village women, but marriage to the local people was forbidden. Even Kate remembered that.

Perhaps she had been disturbed by Feathers because he stirred long-suppressed memories and pain.

Hopefully her remembrances would fit together with other information her guardian and Lord Philip had discovered. She looked up and was astonished to see how far she had walked. She was standing in front of the silk emporium in Cheapside.

It was dark and Kate knew she should not be there alone. Certainly, she had not meant to venture out. Simpson would be beside herself if she realized Kate had left the Park alone. What was it about this place? Was it because she had unexpectedly seen Mr. Feathers there? Or because it made her think of India? It was unremarkable from the outside, but perhaps there was a link. She sighed. There was little she could do that night and she did not even have the all-important key were she able to break in and somehow find a lock in the dark. She looked around her, trying to be inconspicuous, but she was tired and wanted to be back in Half Moon Street when Jack returned. She hailed a hack and climbed in.