Beyond a Doubt Page 15

  Each marker in the graveyard was unique. Names, dates, and designs all represented the person resting underneath.

  Lucy knew the exact spot. Walking the well-worn path, she found the stone and dropped to her knees. Carved in the headstone, the words read, Laura Lombard, born 1517 as a human, taken in 1537 as an angel. The dearest to my heart. Song of Solomon 2”

  She stroked the engraved letters. Why hadn’t she thought of these words before? Had this been what the lady at the ball meant?

  As she placed her fingers in the deep groove, she closed her eyes. Knowing the location of the phrase didn’t help her solve the puzzle. But it was a start.

  “Lucy, that word there with the number, does that come from the Bible?” asked Bryce.

  “What?” Her pulse thumped wildly against her chest. A memory of her father returned. “Every answer you seek is in God’s word. Promise me you won’t forget.”

  “Bryce, that’s it!”

  Bryce shrugged.

  “We need to get back to the house. I think I know what we need to do.”

  The two of them rushed home. Winnie and Winifred confirmed no one had entered the Lombard house in their absence. Still, they approached using caution.

  Lucy stifled a sob as she pushed open the door. The house was beyond recognition. One look at the place and she didn’t know if she even wanted to repair it.

  Sucking in a deep breath, she stepped over broken furniture, smashed portraits, and torn tapestries to reach the study. The fate of this room mimicked the others. Pages of books lay torn and ripped upon the floor. Desk drawers had been pulled from the framework and broken into tiny slivers. Nothing was organized or in its place.

  She sighed. “This will take forever.”

  Bryce spun her around until she faced him. “Earlier we thought we would never find the key. Now look how much closer we are. Don’t despair. Together we will find what we seek. Can ye tell me where the book generally rested?”

  She pointed to the shelf and Bryce followed her lead. He reached above her head and grabbed the Bible. He faced her with a smile on his face. “I believe I found it.”

  He placed the book on the desk. The large Matthew’s Bible covered most of the surface. They found the chapter mentioned on the tombstone. As they read, Lucy pulled out the fan. Light projected through the thin material, causing the embedded message to appear on the wall. She compared the letters and words and matched them up. Once finished, Lucy collapsed in the chair. The message was clear and it wasn’t good.

  ****

  At the meeting of the Huguenots, Admiral Coligny must meet his end. You must not fail.

  Bryce's concern increased with Lucy’s changing demeanor. She had a forlorn look on her face and she sat stiff and straight. No doubt the message troubled her. Bryce knew little of the French Protestant movement, but what he did understand disturbed him.

  First of all, the movement to convert Catholics to Protestants was not accepted by the French monarchy. In fact, King Henry II of France had slashed out tongues, burned people at the stake, and commandeered the property of many in this persuasion. Because of such atrocities, the people had begun to contemplate a move of the believers to a colony in Brazil. The Admiral mentioned in the encrypted note was leading this movement. The admission of the Admiral’s faith placed him in grave danger. Popularity with the people was probably all that currently kept him alive.

  At the masquerade ball, private conversations he’d overheard had led Bryce to believe the Admiral had been warned about potential harm but refused to move the date of the colony’s announcement. Lucy knew this as well. Now that she knew the goal of the message was indeed to end the Admiral’s life, what would she do?

  Suddenly Lucy broke from her stupor and ran upstairs. When she returned, she held a bag stuffed and overflowing with gowns and shoes. One foot from a pair of hose dragged across the floor. Undecipherable mutterings fell from her lips. Her gaze darted this way and that, not appearing to see anything. She clenched the small leather pouch tightly to her chest.

  She had one foot out the door when Bryce caught her. One jerk and Lucy landed back inside. He closed the door.

  Bryce held her in his arms, aware he might be causing bruises but unwilling to risk her escape. “Where are ye goin’?”

  “To Caen, France.”

  “Lucy, we need to talk.”

  “What’s there to talk about? The Admiral is going to die if I don’t stop him from speaking at that event. And if he dies, we also lose our greatest hope of securing religious worship free from persecution.”

  Bryce held back. Love for this woman filled him. Should he declare his feelings and whisk her away? Should he help her with this quest? He needed more time to think.

  “Lucy, wait until tomorrow.”

  “But—“

  “Nothing good will come of rushin’ away tonight. Ye need a plan.”

  Her shoulders relaxed beneath his fingertips and he loosened his grip. A rush of breath escaped his throat. Bryce led her to the living area and they sat. He removed the bag from her fingers and set it aside. Leaning over, Bryce touched her lips with his own.

  The kiss lasted for several minutes. When they drew apart Bryce said, “I love ye.” Tears coursed down her face and he wiped them away. “I would never have realized it had I not been drownin’ in the river and ye hadn’t come to my rescue.”

  Lucy remained silent, the tears now a steady stream.

  “Why don’t ye rest while I fix something to eat and prepare ye a room?”

  Lucy nodded.

  The rest of the afternoon Bryce worked. Happily he cooked, cleaned, and prepared a safe place for Lucy to sleep. At least Bryce figured it was safe. The men had not returned in a few days. Hopefully they assumed what they sought wasn’t here. Little did they know it had been under their noses the entire time.

  They enjoyed dinner in silence. Lucy didn’t comment on his simple cooking skills, or anything else. During the entire meal, Bryce stared at Lucy’s flushed face.

  When the meal ended, Bryce led Lucy to her room, opened her door, and enjoyed her gasp of surprise. The room was tidy. The covers on her bed were soft and inviting. Yet still she said nothing.

  After leaving her to rest, Bryce returned to his own room. Turning down the coverlet, Bryce crawled between the cool covers. Once settled, he realized Lucy hadn’t uttered one word all afternoon.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Olga and Max tiptoed around each other all day. Max was still angry. They waited to see if she had been right. Gustav had followed the young Fraulein with hopefulness. No word had come yet.

  “Where is he? We’ve been waiting all day.”

  With knitting in her hands, and not looking up, Olga responded, “Patience, Max.”

  “Olga, how can I be patient!”

  Olga didn’t answer, and she glanced out the window for any sign of her brother’s coming. The midday meal came and went and still no Gustav. As the evening sun descended, a knock happened upon the door. Max reached the entrance first. She hung back, hiding.

  “Guten tag. I mean, hullo?”

  “Good evening, sir,” said a small child outside the entry, ignoring the accidental slip into Max’s native tongue.

  “Good evening,” repeated Max. Olga peered around the corner. With the greeting reciprocated, the young lad passed over a slip of paper, tipped his hat, and scampered off.

  Olga stared at Max as he unfolded the paper. When he finished reading, Max glanced at her. The paper fluttered to the ground as Max said, “Gustav is gone.”

  ****

  The waves pushed the small boat to and fro. Lucy grasped the rail and held it tightly between her white fingers. Water sprayed and splashed up the sides, washing over her face. Anyone watching wouldn’t be able to find where the tears ended and the spray began. Couples moved aside as they passed her sobbing frame. She didn’t try to stifle the flow of tears as crying kept many curious souls at bay.

  Bryce had done so mu
ch, too much. The man had his whole life ahead of him. Her life had already been determined; her destiny was to save people from death. After she contacted the Admiral, there would surely be another Joshua, and the whole process would begin again. There was always someone in danger.

  As Lucy peered longingly across the Channel, she felt someone watching her. She turned to see a man with a piece of straw between his teeth. He appeared to casually glance at her then shifted his gaze to the disappearing English coast.

  This was her first trip across the Channel alone, so she was already nervous. The way that man tried to hide that he was watching her added to her fear, and Lucy tightened her cloak about her. Moving ever so slightly, she joined a group of fellow travelers. Within a few steps, Lucy blended with them, accepted without question.

  The group moved en masse and Lucy stayed with them. The man trailed behind them. Lucy smiled and pretended not to notice. She discreetly watched her follower for the entire journey.

  The boat arrived at the French harbor and as the passengers disembarked, Lucy hurried off, constantly looking over her shoulder. The man following her kept up with her, even though she increased her pace. She acquired a carriage almost immediately, faring well as a lone woman traveling to Caen. She took a quick glance back at the man, who looked stunned as he watched her ride away.

  Leaning her head against the padded cushion, she tried to relax. Each time her mind eased, thoughts of what she’d left behind haunted her.

  Bryce had been sound asleep, snoring innocently.

  With trepidation, she’d slunk into his room and laid the prepared note upon the unoccupied pillow. She had scrawled out a hastily written letter in an effort to explain her actions.

  Lucy yearned for Bryce’s understanding. As the scenery passed by, she breathed deeply. Right about now Bryce would be waking to an empty house. Would he ever understand why she ran away? Would he ever forgive her?

  ****

  No doubt the woman took pride in the merry goose chase she’d led him on. Imagine leaving by horse in the wee morning hours and traveling all the way to Portsmouth. Why, several times the young lady had come within a hair’s breadth of breaking her neck. She followed no known paths, but seemed to create her own way.

  They’d reached the town in record time. Gustav had followed her onto the boat. The crossing was his least favorite thing to do. The sway of the boat made him sick, and most of the time he spent the entire trip leaning over the rails. But not so with this excursion.

  The focus of this trip, to watch Lucille Lombard, kept him occupied. Not only did the woman fit the accounts of L.L., but her behavior after Olga’s revelation had been erratic and suspicious.

  Bile rose in his throat as the waves shifted. He clutched the railing, his hands white with tension. The young lady moved away and joined a large crowd. Gustav wasn’t fooled. To put her suspicions to rest, he moved farther back but not out of sight. He found a place to sit and rested.

  His behind ached from the hours of riding. Imagine taking a boat across the Channel at this hour? The moon lit the way. Hopefully the captain of the vessel could read the stars and his instruments, or they could be thrown off course and land at the wrong destination. Her bravery despite this possibility testified to the fact that Miss Lombard fit the description of their spy.

  He needed a way to approach her and gain her trust. Little did she know they needed each other. They were on the same side. Fear and hiding for so long kept her wary of everyone.

  When the boat approached Caen, France, Gustav was determined to reach the woman and tell her his identity. But he was too late.

  She fled the boat as soon as it touched land. He found himself running along behind her hackney. With no way to find where she went and no way to catch up, Gustav realized they were doomed.

  ****

  Morning dawned. Bryce jumped from the bed. Today he would declare his intentions and demand a response. No more of this dancing around each other.

  With breakfast prepared and placed on a tray, Bryce carried the items toward Lucy’s room. The first step in the hallway alerted him. Something was wrong. The house was too quiet. Every footfall echoed. Every breath taken came back to him as if in a hollow room.

  Tray balanced, Bryce continued. He glanced into the open doorways, which revealed ransacked rooms in need of repair. Lucy hadn’t been in the house long enough to even pick-up her scattered clothing.

  He found it harder to breathe as he edged closer to Lucy’s room. The bedroom door was open. From the hallway he saw the empty bed. Her cloak was gone. The blue silk bag that held the fan no longer sat on the side table. The tray slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor.

  A vague memory filtered through his mind. He remembered the touch of a warm hand and a familiar scent drifting over him while he’d slept.

  Bryce rushed back to his bedroom and spotted the piece of paper. How had he missed seeing it this morning? His fingers trembled as he grasped it. He unfolded it carefully until it opened completely. He lit a candle for extra light and illuminated the scrawled words.

  Bryce,

  Thank you for your continual assistance but this is not your fight. You never agreed to rescue anyone, but I did. You must understand that my life will never change. I must complete my mission. I hope one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me. Feel free to return to Scotland and become a sheep farmer with Crissy by your side. I’ve come to realize I’m not who you need. Keep safe. You will forever remain in my heart and prayers…

  Lucy

  The air in the room suddenly felt thick. The paper drifted to the floor as Bryce punched his fist into the bedroom wall, and winced in pain.

  “Blast it all!”

  Uncommon anger caused his blood to surge through his veins. He picked up clothes scattered around the room and thrust them into a brown sack, which he threw over his shoulder. First he checked every window and door to make sure they were secure, then he wrote a note and left it behind in case the Townsend twins happened to stop by.

  From the stable, he retrieved Emissary. Even the horse looked lost as she pawed at the ground and sniffed the air for Lucy’s mount. Bryce threw a blanket over the horse’s back and mounted up. Reins firm in his grasp, he turned the horse out of the stable, onto the road, and toward home.

  Scotland had become like a dream in the last couple of weeks. A place he’d once called home. A place of beauty, peace, and tranquility which he would always remember but where he might never again return.

  It was time to go home and put his life in order. The sheep, the land, his family, and even Crissy needed consideration. But as he guided the beast out of town and toward home, the animal protested.

  “What is wrong with ye? She doesn’t want us.”

  The great beast neighed.

  “The lass has made her choice. She’s decided to save the world without us.”

  The equine’s head rose and it stomped its feet.

  “Of course I offered to go with her. But she ran off in the middle of the night.” Bryce raked his hand through his unkempt hair. “Now stop tryin’ to change my mind. We are goin’ home just like she said.”

  The horse stopped in the middle of the road and snorted. No matter what Bryce did, Emissary refused to budge. Every tug on the reins proved fruitless; she wasn’t moving.

  Dismounting, Bryce faced the horse. “Listen here. She doesn’t want me. I professed love to her and she ran away, if that tells ye anything. I don’t know what I was thinkin’, tellin’ her my heart like that. I should have known.”

  Bryce rubbed the horse’s nose. “Now understand me, we are goin’ to ride toward home and that is that.”

  The horse jerked her head away.

  “What would ye have me do? I can’t pursue a woman who doesn’t want me. Don’t ye understand?” He threw his hands into the air. “Now I’m arguin’ with a horse. The woman has clearly gone and made me daft.”

  With a whinny, the horse turned and raced back
toward Lucy's home.

  “Come back here!” he yelled as he followed. The horse easily outdistanced him. By the time he reached the Lombard home, he was sweaty and out of breath. Emissary grazed on a bush.

  Without thinking Bryce swung up onto the horse again. This time the animal reared, threatening to dump him to the ground.

  “What do ye want from me? Why canna ye not understand she doesn’t love me?”

  “Probably because you are talking to a horse,” came the words of a passerby.

  “Now look what ye’ve done. The neighbors think I’m a loon. Why don’t I just let ye lead the way? Would that make ye happy?”

  Emissary’s head flung back and she galloped off. The route taken by the horse led them past the far end of the city. Bryce had no idea where they were going. He thought they were headed toward the English coast. The smell of moisture in the air was at least a decent clue. The sight of water hitting land was another.

  The beast rode right to the docks, stopping only when it reached a boat that rocked in the water with every wave. Bryce dismounted and Emissary nudged him.

  “Fine. I’ll ask.” He cleared his throat and gained the attention of the boat’s captain. “Sir, I’m seeking passage.” At this point Emissary knocked him in the side and whinnied loudly.

  “Problem with your horse?” asked the seaman.

  “It seems I need to acquire passage for both of us.”

  The captain’s head reared back with laughter. When Bryce said nothing, the man coughed and said, “How do you propose to pay for this journey?”

  “Good question,” Bryce mumbled.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Sweat covered Bryce’s body. The liquid burned his eyes and caused his hair to stick to his head.

  Stupid horse. Because of that animal, he slaved in the bowels of a ship that landed at every French port.