Chapter 13
Thirteen
Fortunately, Rosie didn’t wake as Henrietta climbed into the bed after escaping the foredeck without being spotted.
Pulling the blanket up to her chin, Henri lay staring into the dark, her mind immediately revisiting her earlier misgivings.
Naturally, the most significant was whether Raphael was already acquainted with the sailor - and if he was, how did they know one another?
Henrietta took a deep breath. She was entirely jumping to conclusions.
Putting her feelings aside, Raphael Augustin had given no cause for her to think he might be playing both sides.
A brief conversation with a member of the crew did not make him a traitor, and in truth, he’d shown no concern that she might be watching.
Surely if he’d been involved in something illicit, he would have at least tried to do it out of her sight?
Gradually, she felt her heart rate begin to slow down. The next couple of days would be difficult enough without her fertile imagination making it worse.
Raphael had vowed to ensure Tristan reached Montclair alive and well to claim his inheritance.
She had to trust that the man she was rapidly falling in love with would deliver on his promise.
The next morning the wind had lessoned, though happily it hadn’t changed direction.
Roseanna and Percy were fortunately both feeling much better and had even managed to swallow some toast. Unfortunately, aside from that, breakfast was a dismal affair with everyone on edge.
Indeed, Tristan was the only one remotely cheerful, which, given that he was the intended victim, simply made everyone else feel worse.
In the end, it was decided that Tristan would go up on deck every half an hour surrounded by a selected set of three people – one woman and two men.
Naturally, they had to vary it to avoid giving the game away – though the Reverend argued that no man was so popular that everyone on the deuced ship wanted to spend time with him.
In the first perambulation, he would be directly accompanied by Roan, Gabriel and Faith.
However, when Tristan reasoned that having both Roan and Gabe with him definitely looked suspicious, they substituted the Viscount for Dougal.
Tristan’s look of alarm was accompanied by a muttered comment that was unrepeatable in front of ladies…
The rest of them would be scattered around the ship, endeavouring to look as nonchalant as possible – though it didn’t help that Percy’s idea of nonchalance was to attach Finn to him with a rope, much to the boy’s disgust.
Indeed, the whole thing was in grave danger of turning into a farce as Dougal loudly pronounced the deck free o' any shady characters after bravely declaring himself willing to be the sacrificial anode – a term he’d heard one of the sailors use the day before.
While he wasn’t entirely certain what an anode was exactly, he thought the phrase had a nice ring to it.
When nothing had happened by lunchtime, Raphael was tempted to throw Tristan overboard himself just to reduce the anxiety.
‘I don’t see why we can’t just lock the varmint in the deuced hold and be done with it,’ Reverend Shackleford grumbled, helping himself to some cheese and biscuits as they sat down for lunch. ‘Why do we have to wait for him to try and shove Tristan overboard first?’
Raphael gritted his teeth. ‘If we simply lock the blackguard up, we’ll have nothing to bargain with, and we need to find out exactly what he knows.’
‘Could there be another traitor onboard?’ Henrietta asked, her voice carefully detached.
‘I mean one we’re not aware of?’ She stared at Raphael as she spoke, willing him to say something, anything to set her mind at rest. She had spent the entire morning agonising over what she’d seen the night before.
Despite her vow to trust Raphael, she’d been unable to rid herself of the image of him exchanging banter with the sailor.
The easy casualness that indicated so clearly that the two knew each other.
But instead of offering any reassurance, the Frenchman remained silent - but more than that, he didn’t even look at her. Henri felt a huge lump form in her throat, as her certainty of the night before abruptly dissolved.
Roan looked at his daughter with a frown. ‘Well, since the crew numbers less than twenty-five in total, I think it unlikely. Do you have a particular reason for asking?’
Henrietta fought the urge to cry as everyone turned towards her.
‘Is there something you’re not telling us, Henri?’ Roan asked, his tone short.
Henrietta turned to her father. ‘I saw a man wearing Fortune’s colours skulking in the garden at home…’ She paused and looked back at Raphael before adding in a whisper, ‘The same man I saw Mr Raphael Augustin speaking with last night on the foredeck.’
All eyes turned to the King’s agent, the silence thunderous.
Raphael remained perfectly calm, though Henri wanted to cry at the regret she read in his eyes.
‘The man in question works for me,’ he said quietly. ‘He has been aboard the Faith and Fortune since just after Blackmore.’
‘You placed a man on my ship without informing me?’ Roan’s voice was low and furious.
Raphael stared back at him impassively. ‘You admitted to having saved Tristan’s life at the same time as rescuing a French insurrectionist from prison.
In truth, I found your story hard to swallow and needed confirmation that it wasn’t a complete Banbury story.
’ He hesitated and spread his hands. ‘After Miss Carew overheard Fontaine’s men speaking in the Poulton’s Hotel, I thought it best to leave him in place. ’
‘Why didn’t you tell me the truth once we suspected Fortune had a turncoat on board?’ Roan shot back.
There was a short silence, then Raphael sighed. ‘Because I didn’t know what Jacob would find. What if the man secretly working for Fontaine turned out to be someone you’ve known for years? You are too close, Roan. You said it yourself, many of these men have been with you since they were boys.’
Roan gritted his teeth. He knew what the Frenchman stated was true.
‘What was he doing in the gardens?’ Henrietta asked suddenly, her voice hoarse.
‘He was waiting for me,’ Rafe responded calmly.
Henrietta eyed him narrowly, anger beginning to overtake the hurt.
‘Well, clearly I wasn’t astute enough to recognise that,’ she retorted, her voice carrying a wealth of meaning meant for Raphael alone.
Then, biting her lip, she looked down at her untouched food, but not before she saw something in the Frenchman’s eyes.
Something more than just regret. Lifting her napkin from her lap, she replaced it on the table and got to her feet.
‘I think I shall leave you to your deliberations,’ she said to her father.
‘I have nothing more to add and would very much like some air.’
‘Do you feel unwell, darling?’ Faith asked, looking over at her daughter in concern.
Henrietta shook her head, desperate now to leave the claustrophobic cabin. ‘I’m just not very hungry. I promise not to do anything foolish,’ she added, sensing an impending warning before it was uttered.
‘Would you like me to accompany you?’ Roseanna asked, putting down her own napkin.
Looking over at her cousin, seated next to Tristan, Henrietta felt her throat tighten.
Despite all the fear and uncertainty, their happiness, their closeness, was unmistakable.
She shook her head, knowing she needed to get out before she made a complete fool of herself.
‘I’ll come with you, lass.’ Henri looked over at her grandfather in surprise as he pushed back his chair. ‘You coming, Percy?’ he added, looking over at his curate.
‘An’ me,’ Finn interrupted, stuffing the rest of his cheese hurriedly into his mouth and putting another couple of lumps into his pocket for later.
‘Well, dinnae jus’ blether aboot it, gaun jus’ bugger aff with ye,’ Dougal chimed in irritably, waving his hand towards the door.
Plainly the Scot’s earlier notion of self-sacrifice had run its course, and he was back to simply relishing the conflict.
‘Bloody Sassenachs,’ he muttered, helping himself to another hunk of bread.
Knowing the futility of arguing with her grandfather, Henrietta simply nodded her head and all but bolted for the door, Finn already at her heels with Flossy tucked under his arm.
Regretfully, Percy put down his knife. While conflict at the dinner table generally gave him indigestion, it was difficult to turn his back on a nice, ripe Stilton.
‘Get a move on, Percy,’ Reverend Shackleford grumbled from the door. ‘God only knows what mischief Finn is up to with nobody on the other end of his tether.’ The last was said in jest, but it had the desired effect. Seconds later, the door closed behind them.
For a few seconds, no one spoke. The three women at the table, recognising Henrietta’s distress, instinctively looked towards its cause. Aware of their scrutiny, Raphael’s lips tightened, but he refused to be drawn.
‘Who the devil is this Jacob anyway?’ Roan ground out. ‘You gave us the impression that you were unable to trust anyone in your organisation.’
‘He’s not part of my organisation,’ Raphael responded tightly. ‘He works for me and has done so for over ten years – ever since I found him begging on the streets of London.’
‘How strange,’ Hope observed tartly, ‘I feel like I’ve heard a similar tale very recently.’
Rafe bristled but managed to keep his temper in check, well aware that she was simply voicing what everyone else in the room was thinking. ‘I was wrong to have kept it from you,’ he bit out finally, ‘but I…’
‘No,’ Roan shot back. ‘You were wrong to have insinuated your man onto my ship in the first place. You want us to trust you, yet you do not reciprocate. You of all people should know that trust works both ways – especially when lives are at risk.’
The two men glared at each other, neither backing down.