Chapter 25
Sophia, to her surprise, slept deeply that night. It probably proved some proverb or axiom about the sleep of an honest conscience vs a guilty one. But she suspected the previous two nights of tortured sleep left her too exhausted to do otherwise.
When she woke, the cool, moist feeling of the air informed her that it was still very early. She felt genuine relief that she had told the truth about Mr. Belvedere, but it was mixed with deep apprehension.
She would be taken to the consulate today.
The authorities would not look kindly on a woman who had been married to a cardsharp, thief, and sometimes highwayman.
Colonel Fitzwilliam and Captain Wentworth might be optimistic about her chances, but Sophia was less sanguine.
Great crimes had been committed, and nothing encouraged her to think she would escape the consequences.
Even if she had been a silly, ignorant accomplice.
And she had not even saved Mr. Belvedere! His credentials would be called into question, and she suspected he had secrets of his own to hide.
Anne brought Sophia’s breakfast to her room—porridge, toast, and tea—but Sophia could not eat very much.
Anne stayed and said some very true and good things about fortitude and faith.
She also told Sophia she’d written a letter to accompany Sophia to the consulate—not so much a recommendation letter, as a reference of character.
She offered encouragement, or meant to, but Sophia’s ears still seemed to be plugged with water—metaphorically speaking—for she could hardly take in the sense of Anne’s words despite hearing them clearly.
“I appreciate your kindness,” Sophia said. “I really do, but I think I need to be alone.”
“I understand. Captain Smythe has hired a carriage and will take Lady Marston and Mr. Knapp to the consulate within the hour. He will return for you and Mr. Belvedere. We thought it safer that you and Lady Marston not ride together.”
Sophia smiled drearily. “Thank you, but I don’t think she would try to hurt me again. She probably didn’t mean to yesterday either—she must’ve known someone would rescue me.”
“But she also knew you could not swim,” Anne said. “It was cruel and dangerous at best.”
Sophia’s eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t let them fall. “True. Will you knock on the door when they are ready for me? I’ll just pack the last of my things—my comb and my handkerchief and so on.”
“Yes, I will. Minnie says your dress has dried—they hung it on the line overnight—but your boots are still rather wet. I’ll bring them to you presently.”
So it was, shod in damp boots that squished a little as she walked, Sophia readied herself to cross the gangway again.
A broader plank had replaced the narrow one from last night, with a rail on one side.
She kept her hand on the rail as she went over, shuddering as she remembered the briny water surging up her nose.
Her gray muslin dress swished around her legs as she hurried across.
It was a bright, sunny morning with a blue sky that a good Englishman would rhapsodize about. Anne and Caroline were already on the wharf, dressed to see the city. Sophia’s small chest of things already waited on the wharf with several other trunks that must belong to Mr. Belvedere.
To her surprise, there were church bells ringing from at least three neighborhoods of the city. Unless she’d gotten very confused, it was not Sunday—only mid-morning on a Tuesday…
Sophia staggered a little as she reached the wharf.
“Careful there.” Captain Wentworth steadied her. “Your sea legs are overcompensating on land.”
Anne squeezed Sophia’s hand. “Lady Marston and Sir Mark were taken over in the first trip to the consulate. Captain Smythe gave them the gist of the situation, but from what he says, there is quite an uproar over the news of a recent battle.”
“Is that the cause of the bells? And—cannons?” Sophia asked. There was another throbbing boom, then another.
“Thundermugs,” Colonel Fitzwilliam explained. “Those are cannon for celebration and commemoration, not war. We received word that Wellington has broken the French at Vitoria. Lisbon has gone a little mad with joy.”
Captain Smythe came down the gangway with Mr. Belvedere, who also carried a large satchel as well as his cane—looking every inch the slightly-dandy young man that had first come aboard.
“Fine morning.” Mr. Belvedere waved his cane toward the colorful city. “It’s like a painting! Seems to be a devil of a lot of people about, too—Is there a parade?
“There was a victory at Vitoria,” Captain Wentworth said. “The dockside taverns are pouring port like water.”
Captain Smythe sighed. “Aye, the streets will be a revel-rout, but we’ll get through. Come along, you two! Even you must be glad of this news about Wellington.”
“Oh, I am,” said Mr. Belvedere. “I am absolutely chuffed.”
They formed their own small parade as they walked along the wharf. Anne and Wentworth came just behind Sophia.
Anne spoke softly, probably not intending for Sophia to hear. “My dear, I really don’t feel I can sightsee and celebrate today. It is so terrible. I simply can’t watch her locked into that carriage and then go off to have a lovely day.”
“I know, my love, but there is nothing more you can do for her. Captain Smythe must go on to Barcelona on schedule. If we wish to see any of Lisbon, we have only today and tomorrow.”
“Yes, I know.”
“And you need time away from the ship. As do Caroline and Richard. We must put a good face on it.”
The wharf turned and led to the actual shoreline, a commercial district full of warehouses and markets for the bustling port city. There were many about on this fine June morning, and everyone with a jubilant air.
The city enthralled Sophia despite herself.
The smell of smoke and bread mixed as they reached the streets, but it was not unpleasant because the sea breeze kept the air moving.
She had expected to see many with the olive-brown skin and jet-black hair of the Mediterranean, but there was a broad range.
Many people had lighter hair and skin than she did.
Most of the clothing could’ve been seen anywhere in London or Paris, but a few women wore traditional outfits that reminded her of a Spanish dancer she had once seen in a book.
A job carriage awaited them, and Captain Smythe directed his men to stow the trunks on the back.
“Should one of us go with Mrs. Scott?” asked Caroline. “It isn’t very proper for her to lack a female companion.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” said Captain Smythe, “but it can hardly be improper with myself along. Nor is it very far.”
Sophia and Mr. Belvedere were gestured within, but Anne embraced Sophia before she was put on the carriage. “You’re stronger than you know. Don’t give up.”
“Thank you, and I wish you all the best. All four of you.”
The captain climbed in the carriage after her, seating himself next to Mr. Belvedere. “Don’t think to try anything, sir. I told the consul I’d deliver you next. They already sent for one of the EIC representatives to examine you.”
Mr. Belvedere wrinkled his nose. “A shame he’ll make the trip for nothing. It’ll probably make him out of reason cross.”
The carriage bounced over cobblestones and up rather steep roads past the city center to the north.
There were outdoor markets that smelled like chocolate, and one that was loud with the sound of birds cawing.
Lovley stone churches tolled their bells.
Some churches were newer and some quite Romanesque or Gothic.
There were many army men in the streets joining in the celebration, both British redcoats and men in the blue and white uniforms of the Portuguese.
She kept her eyes pointedly averted from Mr. Belvedere. If he had a plan to escape, she hoped he would execute it soon.
Across from another beautiful cathedral, they pulled up at a more recent building that was altogether too airy and stuccoed to house anything so resolute as a British consulate. But there were knots of British officers in their red coats milling here and there, so clearly it was the right place.
The captain jumped down and shut the carriage door. “Please to wait, ma’am,” he said to Sophia. “I will ask these men to keep watch while I find out where to take you.”
Several red coats nodded to the captain, having been previously requested to be on hand, and they stood nearby.
“Our very own guard,” said Mr. Belvedere, leaning forward to scope out the scene from their limited view through the small carriage windows. “How very Tudor.”
“I thought you said you could—er—slip away. Why don’t you?”
“Oh, there is time for that yet. I trust my instincts for these things, and those fellows are a little too intent. Since we have a moment, my dear, and I’m not sure I fully expressed it last night—I do appreciate your attempt to save me.”
“Although if you are confident in your ability to escape, it was wholly unnecessary.”
“Not at all! Our good packet commander now has no evidence, either real or circumstantial, to tie me to any crime, least of all the East India Company, and that is capital. And with everyone overjoyed about our recent victory, I have every hope of a good outcome.” He leaned forward and took her hand.
“Thank you, Sophy. Very few people have ever sacrificed as much for me.”
She didn’t take him to task for using her name or calling her my dear. It seemed silly when he would disappear so soon.
“So—when will you run?” She brought her voice to a whisper, trying to ignore his thumb rubbing circles on her gloved hand. “Won’t it be more difficult from the consulate?”
“No,” he said, matching her whisper, “and what’s more, I think you should come with me.”
Sophia jerked back against the squabs. “I can’t do that. And—and that is insulting.”
“Why?”