“Did you kill him?” he said in a whisper. Clode shook his head.
“I think I may have winged him as he went through the window,” he said softly. “And Graves loosed another as he fled, but his aim is appalling. I made a quick survey of the grounds while you were unconscious and found his horse, but no sign of him.”
Crowther struggled to his feet, pushing away the arm that tried to support him. He hobbled toward Harriet and stood behind her, looking down at the captain. His eyes were open, and fixed on his wife. His breathing ragged and terrible. Crowther put his hand on Harriet’s shoulder. She lifted her own hand and let it rest on his for a moment, without taking her gaze from her husband’s face.
Crowther crossed to Trevelyan with a firmer step, leaned in close and spoke to him a moment, then, trying to fight down the nausea and bitterness that rose in his throat as he straightened, approached Graves.
“Clode can stay here. We must return to Berkeley Square. You need to bring the captain’s children to him, and I have business to attend to.” Graves nodded, and Crowther looked again at Harriet. She had turned toward him. Her face was calm, and her voice distinct and clear.
“Gabriel, do not let him live.”
“You have my promise, madam.”
She nodded, turned back to her husband, and Graves opened the door.
As he mounted his horse, the pain made him gasp. Graves looked at him in concern.
“Can you ride, sir?”
“Yes.”
“There was a rope. I think he intended to make it seem a suicide, but our arrival surprised him into action, or the captain was too strong.”
“What is the hour, Mr. Graves?”
The younger man removed his pocket watch and consulted it. “A little after midnight, sir.”
Crowther urged his mount into a trot and they began to ride at a pace into the city and the cold dark morning.
PART VIII
FRIDAY, 23 NOVEMBER 1781
Only the youngest children slept. Graves found Susan and Rachel in the latter’s chamber drinking chocolate and saying little to each other. Rachel, after Graves had told them what had passed, went calmly to wake Stephen, and Graves for a moment took her place by his ward.
“Susan, my dear. This will be another heavy day. And you have had too many in your life.” The girl did not answer but curled her hand around his own. “How would it be, my dear, if, as soon as it is light, you send a note to our friend Miss Chase and ask her to come and sit with you today? Miss Trench should be with Stephen and her sister.”
Susan looked up, searching his face for signs of awkwardness or distress. “I should like that very much, Graves, if it does not trouble you. She and I may look after my brother and Eustache.”
He returned the pressure of her hand, fear and love for her drenching him like a hopeless tide. “It does not trouble me. I think I must learn to swallow my pride a little and accept the care I am given.”
“That would be much more sensible of you. You ask Jonathan and me to accept all you do for us without thanks. It is unfair of you not to do the same.”
He lifted her small hand to his lips and kissed it. She shuffled into his side and laid her head on his shoulder.
“You are growing, little woman.”
Rachel returned. She carried baby Anne sleeping on her shoulder, and led Stephen, white-faced and confused, by the hand.
“Graves, Stephen wishes to bring his model of the Splendor with him. I said we should inquire if there is room enough.”
“Papa likes it.”
Graves got to his feet. “Yes, of course you must bring it then.” He crossed to the little boy and picked him up in his arms. “Susan, will you fetch it and bring it down?” She nodded and scudded out toward the nursery. Graves felt Stephen’s arms link behind his neck and he began to carry him down to the waiting carriage.
“Did the spies attack Father, Mr. Graves?”
“They did, Stephen. Now Mr. Crowther and his friends will hunt them down.”
“Tell Jonathan I am sorry not to be there when he wakes. Sometimes he has bad dreams.”
“I did not know that, Stephen. Thank you. I will see he does not wake alone.”
Once Rachel and the children were comfortable and the model safe he stood back and looked at his coachman.
“Are you armed, Slater?”
“Yes, sir.” He shifted his seat to show the pistol at his side. “As is Gregory.” The footman on the carriage with him touched his hat as he was named.
“Good,” said Graves. “If any footpad tries to delay you, shoot him.”
Mrs. Service met him in the hallway. “Do go in, Mr. Graves. Mr. Palmer, who seems to be the man behind it all, is in the library with the rest. Mr. Crowther has told us what has passed, and now I feel my duties must return to the domestic. It seems there will be a quantity of people coming and going today, and very few of them through the front door. I must speak to Mrs. Martin and the servants. How is Susan?”
Graves leaned against the wooden paneling of the hall as he replied, his hand shielding his eyes from the lamplight. “I have told her to send for Verity Chase as soon as she may.”
“Good,” said the little woman and began to move away.
“Mrs. Service?” She turned back toward him. “You are very calm.”
She let a smile hover over her lips. “I save my vapors up, like Molloy saves his favors. Go in, sir. We all of us have work to do this day.”
Harriet knew quickly that there was no hope that Trevelyan could offer. Having seen her husband made more comfortable with laudanum and cold presses, she dismissed the doctor to see to his other guests, disturbed by the noise and hurrying. Clode did not leave the room, but retired to a chair by the fire and angled his face away.
James’s eyes fluttered open. “Harry?”
“Here, my darling.”
“I fear I am leaving you again.”
She could not reply to this, only wrap her warm fingers around his palm. It seemed colder to her now than a few minutes before. “Harriet, I know I am not what I was. .”
“That is not important, James.”
He breathed a little raggedly, then closed his fingers tightly around her own. “But Harriet, tell me. . before. . It was a good marriage, was it not? I always thought of it so. I remember loving you. .”
Harriet’s voice struggled up through the darkness in her throat. “It was a good marriage, James. Very. You made me happy.”
“I am so glad.” His eyes fluttered closed again, and Harriet watched his chest rise and fall, listening for a carriage on the gravel.
“Then we are decided?” said Mr. Palmer. There were nods around the room. “I thank you for your hospitality, Graves. I must, however, appear at the office if we are not to frighten away our birds, and I must meet quietly with Lord Sandwich. Mr. Crowther will coordinate our activities during the day. I shall take control in the evening. There are four messengers I trust to be discreet. Graves, how far can you trust your people?”
“I recommend them without question.”
“Very well. I shall summon my people.”
He stood up and there was a general stir in the room. Palmer put his hand to Crowther’s shoulder and leaned into him. “Sir, it would be a great boon to the Crown, and the prosecution of these traitors, if Johannes was brought into my custody alive. I believe Molloy and Mrs. Bligh have certain. . forces to draw on. I wish to question the man myself.”
Crowther looked at him down his long nose. “I am aware of that.”
Palmer chewed his lip. “I am glad. Johannes will not move from whatever hiding place he has found in daylight. No doubt his fear and need will drive him back into Town this evening as we close on Lord Carmichael and these creatures of Mrs. Bligh’s discovering.”
Crowther looked over his shoulder at Jocasta, Molloy and the little boy. “That is the consensus.”
Palmer turned toward the door, saying, “But I note you make me no promise.”
Crowther did not reply, and Palmer met the fate of any man who had tried to stare him down and left the room, shaking his head.