Chapter Eight
Will rode back towards the nunnery of La Belle Dame, feeling as light as air.
The war was over!
Napoleon’s Grande Armée, weakened after the disastrous Russian campaign two years earlier, had been unable to defend Paris.
Forces of the Coalition had captured the capital and forced the emperor to abdicate.
With his incarceration on the island of Elba, the long years of war against France were over.
All of which meant Will would be returning home to Clem.
Home.
The word repeated in his mind as he rode north to the abbey in the spring sunshine.
Birdsong rose from nearby bushes, and the scent of early flowering cherry blossoms and lilacs added to his happy mood. He breathed deeply, the sweet taste of freedom lingering on his tongue.
After a final meeting with Mother Bernadette—his contact throughout his spying mission in France—he would ride to Calais and cross the Channel back to Clem.
Unfinished business lay between them. Clem had given him her enthusiastic agreement and a kiss filled with promise, but he had yet to ask her father, the viscount, for her hand.
As for Clem—his Clem—he never doubted she had waited for him.
Her kiss and the promise in her eyes that night at the ball had told him as clearly as her words had.
The spring day promised to be fair as he dismounted and tied the reins to the hitching ring.
He stood for a moment with his back to the wall, committing to memory the view beyond the nunnery.
This was the last visit he would make unless he brought Clem to France for their honeymoon.
She would enjoy meeting the Mother Superior, and he imagined that, under other circumstances, they might have become good friends.
He shook his head and knocked on the porter’s door.
Perhaps in a year or two, when his memories of events over the past six months were no longer colored by danger and constant high alert.
That life was weighed down by far too much fodder for nightmares, definitely not the sort of baggage a man wanted to carry into the delights of his honeymoon.
If Clem wished to travel, he’d take her to Italy, but for the next few months, a honeymoon on the Cornish coast would be perfect. If he could convince her father to let them wed as soon as possible, they might have the whole summer to enjoy one another.
Cornwall in summer.
Warm, quiet, with little to do other than take long walks together, followed by even longer rests together. His lips stretched into a grin just as Sister Aloysius, the porter, opened the grill.
Seeing Will, she welcomed him with an answering smile and admitted him. “Back to visit your cousin, monsieur.”
Given the need for regular visits to the nunnery to pass over his reports and collect new orders, the fabrication of a family connection between him and the Mother Superior at their first meeting had served them well.
“Bien s?r. I have few enough family left who survived the difficult years not to see my cousin at every opportunity. And she prays for my soul every day. A man cannot have too much divine protection, n’est-ce pas?”
“That is true, monsieur.” Sister Aloysius folded her hands into her wide sleeves and led the way across the courtyard to the bottom of the stairs leading up to the Mother Superior’s office.
On his first couple of visits to this women’s sanctuary, he had been accompanied every step of the way to her door.
Now, the nuns were sufficiently comfortable with le cousin de la mère superieure to offer him their trust.
He mounted the stairs alone and knocked on Bernadette’s door.
She opened it immediately.
“Were you keeping watch for me?” Will smiled, knowing how careful the Mother Superior was about their rendezvous.
“Naturally. I knew you would come as soon as possible after Paris fell, but I didn’t know how far south you had traveled.
The stable boy has been keeping an eye on the road.
I knew you were on your way as soon as you crested the hill.
” Given that the war was over and glorious freedom beckoned, she seemed a little ill at ease.
Will took his usual seat at her desk. A small vase filled with spring flowers sat next to his arm, and the scent of lilacs and lily of the valley filled the room. “Is there a reason other than the obvious why this meeting differs from others?”
Bernadette turned her back and poured a glass of the d’Aubray wine she always had ready for his visits. She set the glass on the desk beside him, folded her hands inside her sleeves, and met his gaze. “This is not our last meeting, Will.”
Will picked up his glass and sipped the fine wine, appreciating that first taste before Bernadette’s comment interrupted his homeward thoughts. “Haven’t my orders come through? I know it’s been chaotic on the roads with soldiers returning home, but I thought London would have—”
Bernadette dipped her hand into a deep pocket, withdrew it and offered a sealed paper. “This arrived yesterday, along with instructions for me. I’m sorry, Will, but you can’t return home yet.”
Automatically taking the proffered letter, Will turned the packet over, noting the unremarkable seal that had marked every packet of papers from London, and his stomach sank. “But the war is over. The Treaty of Fontainebleau was signed two weeks ago, and Bonaparte is in exile.”
“And Louis the Eighteenth has ascended the throne. France once again has a king, albeit a constitutional one now. At least broad acceptance of an absolute monarch has changed. But what has not changed is support for Napoleon. There are still many who are not happy their emperor has gone, and they especially do not like that he was forced out by foreigners.”
Drawing in a slow breath, Will set his glass on the desk. “I understand that, but he is secure on an island, and a new king reigns. Doesn’t the British government trust their soldiers to keep him safely restrained on Elba?”
Bernadette spread her hands in a small gesture that said clearly, I don’t know.
“You are more likely to understand your government’s actions than I.
All I can tell you is that I have been requested to continue our connection into the foreseeable future while you continue to gather information.
Your letter will perhaps tell you more.”
Tapping the packet on the desk, Will shook his head. His heart had felt so light as he rode here, and now, duty weighed him down, leaden as an anchor in the depths of the English Channel.
Of course, he would stay.
He had to stay.
But Clem waited for him on the other side of the Channel. How much longer would she wait? Would she continue to resist her parents’ wish for her to make an advantageous marriage without a formal request from him?
Dear God, he needed to get home. He needed to see her, to kiss her again.
He needed to declare himself before her father.
Tossing back half of the wine, he met Bernadette’s sympathetic eyes. “I should have expected some delay. Of course, London will want to know if there are pockets of would-be liberators planning an attempt to free Bonaparte. It’s just—”
“You wished to return to your fiancée, oui?” Understanding gleamed from her eyes, and she set a hand lightly on his shoulder. “It will not be forever, Will. You will be home soon, I am certain. I will pray for you.”