Chapter 15 In which a confession is forced #2
She digested this in silence, her mind working quickly. “Am I allowed to talk of our past?”
“Yes, I suppose,” he allowed, “but you must not talk of his crimes, or his punishment. Your task is simply to soothe him and remind him that he is a subject of the Crown.”
Judith bit back a retort. She said calmly, “Very well. Take me to him at once.”
Drumpellier stepped away from the window. His face showed the first signs of discomfort. “You will have to wrap your arms around me, Lady Avely, so that the charm can carry us both.”
“Where will we arrive?” She devoutly hoped it was not in Dacian’s cell, where the sight might provoke him to tear off Drumpellier’s head off on the spot. On the other hand, that might be an excellent outcome.
“The tower room where we first met,” replied Drumpellier, and now he smiled. “It seems that our acquaintance is destined to be rather improper, Lady Avely.”
She froze him with a glare. “A matron is never improper.”
He lowered his eyes. “Of course not.” Then he held out an arm. “Shall we depart?”
Judith gritted her teeth. “Give me one moment.” She hastened to the door, and found Trebellow just outside, where he had clearly been listening, for he leapt backwards, eyes wide.
She ignored it. It was probably for the best that Trebellow knew everything. “Please tell Robert that I am going to Fort Pendennis. I leave the castle in his charge, and I should return by nightfall.”
“Certainly, ma’am.”
She shut the door again and marched up to Drumpellier. She grasped him around the waist and pulled him flush up against her, shutting her eyes. “Let us go.”
The sense of being a sheet shaken in the wind soon passed.
Judith opened her eyes to find herself in the centre of the Pendennis tower room, surrounded by the imposing circle of grey stone.
It had none of the comfort of the Tea Tower Room.
As before, it was furnished only with Drumpellier’s large desk and one small rug, upon which they now stood.
Hastily, Judith detached herself. “Lead the way.”
Drumpellier brushed himself down and turned abruptly. They descended three flights, but instead of progressing further to the dungeon cell, he cut across to a different passage.
“This way.”
“You’ve moved him?” Judith felt it incumbent upon her to express surprise. “Why?”
“We thought he could do with some exercise.”
Again, she heard the faint dissonance of a lie.
That certainly wasn’t the primary purpose of Dacian’s new regime.
Judith began to suspect that they had intended to use him as a weapon all along.
Why, after all, let a good Impactor go to waste?
Especially one whose memory had gone and who would be a biddable soldier.
Except Dacian was not proving biddable. No surprise there.
She chewed her lip. How was she to play this?
How would Dacian greet her? Fear touched her that he might have actually lost his mind, and that it was no performance.
What if they had managed to force more Lethe down his throat after Wooten’s brave sacrifice?
What if he was truly lost to her? She dared not think on it and instead wondered feverishly what she might communicate to him now.
They approached another deep-set door, and Judith drew a breath. This time it was guarded by two broad-chested infantrymen, both with rifles and grim expressions. No complacency this time in how they had assigned guard duty. Drumpellier stopped and exchanged low words with one of them.
“Is he improved?”
“No, sir. Still raving.”
“Has he said anything…different?”
“No, sir, unless you count bawling for cognac.”
“Did you give it to him?”
“One glass, sir. We have tried to be amiable, as you suggested, sir, but to no avail. He threatened to disembowel us.”
Drumpellier sighed and cast a glance back at Judith. “Prepare yourself, ma’am, for a difficult meeting.”
She glared back. “I blame you for that, Captain.”
“You must tell him that he must learn to behave as an English gentleman and a loyal subject.”
Judith did not deign to answer.
“I am serious,” Drumpellier threatened in a low voice. “You must obtain his cooperation, or it will be the worse for both of you.”
Reluctantly, she gave a tight nod.
Drumpellier stepped up to the door and shouted through it. “Sir, I have a visitor for you.”
Judith bridled at his lack of proper address, and perhaps Dacian was equally disgusted, for silence came from within.
“Sir!” shouted Drumpellier. “A friend of yours is here to see you. I am going to open this door and enter, but if you respond badly, both of you will suffer.”
Judith grimaced. Too late, she realised that Drumpellier might use her as a hostage for Dacian’s compliance. Assuming that Dacian even recognised her.
A growl finally emerged from the cell. “Who is it?”
“You will see when we enter.” Clearly, Drumpellier didn’t want to give away Judith’s identity: he wanted to see Dacian’s reaction for himself. He pulled a heavy key from his pocket and slipped it into the thick padlock. “Are you away from the door?”
“Yes, Goddammit.” It was a bellow. “This better be good, or I’ll wrench your head from your shoulders.”
“You can try,” the captain gritted out, “and if you succeed, you’ll be shot on the spot.”
There was silence again, as if Dacian was contemplating the benefits of such a bargain.
“Right.” Subtly, Drumpellier squared his shoulders. “You first,” he nodded at Judith, “and you behind me, Corporal Threadbow, with gun at the ready.”
Despicable coward, sending a woman in first. Judith felt her spine stiffen with fear as the corporal drew out a pistol and cocked it. She stepped forward, Drumpellier breathing down her neck.
He reached past her and slid back the heavy lock. Cautiously, he shoved the door open and gestured for Judith to enter.