Cherished Enemy (30 page)

“The devil!” exclaimed her brother, shocked into forgetting his calling.

Victor, standing very straight before Rosamond's blistering scorn, admitted coolly, “Quite true. I was not with him.”

“You cruel
beast!
” she raged, her fists clenching. “What kind of man would taunt a heart-broken lady with such a pack of lies? Did you
enjoy
that piece of needless savagery? Did her tears make you laugh and—”

“'Fore heaven!” Charles exploded. “Rob, I'll not have—”

Victor flung up one hand in a peremptory gesture that put a stop to the angry words. To the seething girl he said ironically, “The truth, my dear ma'am, would likely have
properly
broken your cousin's heart. Should you like to hear how Hal Singleton really died? I warn you, the tale I told Mrs. Singleton was a nursery rhyme by comparison!”

There was no vestige of his charming smile now on the lips that were set and grim. Not until then did it occur to Rosamond that this man had admitted to being a Jacobite; he certainly realized she would inform against him; just as certainly, he meant to stop her. Suddenly he looked every inch a cold and merciless fighting man, and fear touched her. To hide it, she turned her back on him.

“Charles—I can scarce believe you are so changed. For all his days, Hal was dearer to you than your own brother! His precious life was ended by just such a one as this evil creature. How
could
you be so disloyal as to help him?” And even as she spoke she was again astonished, for her gentle Charles was changed also. Had he always been so tall? Had his head always tilted up so proudly, his eyes flashed with that fiery glint? Bewildered, she appended, “I—
cannot
understand.”

He said, his voice clipped and stern, “Then understand this: I do not help Rob. He had escaped to safety in France. He came back, risked his life, to—help
me!
”

Victor gave an embarrassed snort. “Away wi' ye! 'Tis little enough, I've been able to do forbye, after all you've done for my people.”

Dazedly, trying to cope with one thing at a time, Rosamond faltered, “To
help
you? With what? That parchment? Oh, never try to cover it, Charles! I saw the verses. I know what it is! Oh—Charles!
Charles!
”

She heard the breath hiss through Victor's teeth.

Charles groaned. “You know about the
cyphers?
Have I been so unforgivably careless, then? Heaven knows I've tried so hard to keep the knowledge from you—for your own sake! How did you find out, Rosa?”

She stared at him. “Did Mr. Shakespeare write it in … cypher, then?”

“Shakespeare?”
Victor gave a scornful hoot. “A far cry!”

“But—Mr. Fairleigh said a parchment writ by Shakespeare was stolen and—and—I thought
____
… I mean—you have the parchment, and—” The halting words ceased. Her bewildered mind seized on one word.
Cypher!
And all at once she knew, and her fears crystallized into a terror so overpowering that she felt bitterly cold and her breath seemed to freeze on her lips. “Dear God!” she whispered. “Never say … you have the—the cypher all England seeks…?”

Victor turned away, but she heard the muttered “Damn and blast it all!”

Her knees weak, her horrified gaze fixed on her brother's distressed face, Rosamond sank into a chair. “You—you must be raving mad!” she gasped. “You will drag us all to the axe! Papa—Aunt Estelle—me … Why?
Why?
For the sake of some ragged, savage traitors, who—””

“Who deserve any death the crown sees fit to mete out—however barbarous?” sneered Victor.

“Yes!” She sprang up again, trembling but defiant. “You knew what you risked—all of you! You took that risk! What have
we
done to deserve being condemned to such a fearful death? Tell me, most
ignoble
physician—if indeed you
are
one!”

Her contempt brought an answering sparkle of anger to his eyes. He drawled, “An it interests you, Miss Albritton, I'm no more a doctor than you are.”

Despite her taunt she had not really expected that this also was a lie, and shock held her motionless for an instant. Then, with a squeal of rage she flew at him, hands upraised and fingers crooked to claw the hauteur from his face.

Charles jumped to seize her by the wrists. “Have done, girl!”

“Have
done?
” she spluttered, struggling to escape. “Do you know what that—that 1-lascivious libertine—that
contemptible
liar—d-did to me on the packet? Do you know how h-he
dared
to take off my—my
clothes
and—”

“I know,” interrupted Charles curtly.

Victor sighed and leaned back against the table. “Is why he gave me this,” he said, with a weary gesture toward the bruise on his jaw.

She glared at him, but ceased to struggle and Charles relaxed his grip. “And did you tell my brother that you were so crude, so base as to—to touch my—me?” she demanded, her cheeks becoming heated at the mere recollection.

“No, ma'am,” he drawled. “You did. Whereby…” He touched the bruise on his cheek-bone.

So he had been punished for his wickedness. To an extent. It was
something,
but— “You should have called him out and shot him through the heart,” she said hotly.

Victor jeered, “Oho! What a bloody-minded—”

“Say rather, what a patriot,” she flared. “My brother appears to have lost his sense of values, sir, but
I
have not forgot where my loyalties belong!”

Two stern faces watched her. They both seemed so tall, and she became very conscious of how little she was, but she turned to face Charles and, standing proud and dauntless before him, said, “You are in league with this disgusting creature, I collect. Well, you both are much stronger than I, and could silence me easily enough. But unless you mean to kill me, you had best—”

Charles's handsome face twisted and he shrank back in horror. “Rosa! How can you say so dreadful a thing?”

The initial shock was fading, and the full tragedy of it was coming home to her. The ache in her heart was suddenly nigh unbearable, and she felt as if she were drowning in tears of misery and disillusionment. “After what I have seen here tonight,” she said, the words coming hoarsely from her quivering lips, “I—I have no choice but to believe you capable of … any infamy.”

Very pale, Charles gazed at her. His shadowed eyes fell. He asked quietly, “What do you mean to do?”

She could scarcely see now, and her throat was so tight it was all she could do to whisper, “Tell … my father.” Despising her weakness, she dashed a hand across her eyes, and demanded, “Shall you kill
him
 … too?”

Charles pulled her into his arms, and hugged her tight. “Do not! Do not! Most loved of sisters, could you really believe such evil of me?”

Sobbing heart-brokenly, she gulped, “Oh, Charles … how can I, when I—so love you? But—dearest … what has happened to all your fine ideals? How could you have lied and deceived me so? How
could
you allow this horrid man to force you to betray your own family, and most of all your dearest friend, who gave up his life for—”

“For Prince Charles Edward Stuart!” cried Robert Victor ringingly.

II

CERTAINTIES

13

The first stunning shock, the incredulous disbelief had eased now, but Rosamond still sat huddled against Charles, clutching the glass of brandy a terrified Victor had brought when she had almost fainted.

Peering at her anxiously, Victor half-whispered, “Are you feeling better, lass? Mayhap you should take another little sip.”

She obeyed, coughed, and returned the glass to him. “I'm sorry,” she murmured. “Did I frighten you? That was silly.”

“You had suffered a great shock,” said Charles, with an irked look at his friend.

“Aye. My fault. I'm a curst clumsy block to have thrown the news at you in so crude a way, Miss Rosa.”

Rosamond blinked at him, looking so dazed and helpless that he longed to take her in his arms and soothe away her fear and hurt. That right was denied him. Now, or ever. He had found the exquisite little creature he always had dreamt of finding, but he had found also that there was between them a barrier so formidable as to be insurmountable. He clenched his hand tight, and was obliged to avert his eyes quickly.

“I just—cannot believe it, you see,” Rosamond explained. “I simply
cannot.
Hal was so—so patriotic … so—” She sat up straight and turned appealingly to her brother. “Are you sure? Are you
perfectly
sure?”

Charles nodded gravely.

“That Hal—of all men, would turn his back on his own country…” She put an unsteady hand to her temple. “Why? It seems so—so foreign to everything I have ever believed of him.
Why?
Oh! If
only
I could understand. 'Twill break Howard's heart! He worshiped Hal. And—poor Violet … and Deb—” She broke off, a little snatch of memory causing her to jerk up her head abruptly. “Deborah knows!”

Charles and Victor exchanged sober glances, then Victor took the glass to the desk and set it down. “I'll go now.”

“Oh no, you don't!” snapped Charles, his arm still protectively around his sister. “We've scarce begun to work, my friend!”

Hesitantly, Victor muttered, “I think Miss Rosa will hear you more comfortably, am I not present.”

“No,” said Rosamond. “I do not pretend to comprehend, but—if my brother names you friend, Dr. Victor—” She smiled wanly. “But, 'tis not—Dr. Victor, is it?”

He bowed and said with a flourish, “Robert Victor MacTavish, ma'am. At your service.” And perching on the arm of the settle, he added, “Who apologizes most sincerely for all his wicked lies. You were quite justified in despising
me,
ma'am. But you must not despise your brother. Charles has no liking for my political beliefs. He is a truly Christian gentleman whose sole concern is to help the suffering and innocent victims of our unhappy Rebellion. If you knew how many lives he has—”

“Enough, Rob,” said Charles, reddening. “As for you, Rosa, what you said was perfectly right. I have indeed brought the shadow of the axe over this house. But I have tried very hard to ensure it will touch only me. Should I be arrested, I will confess my own guilt, and swear that you and the rest of the family knew nothing of—”

She gave a gasp and hugged him tight. “No, no! We must never come to such a pass! Whatever you have done was out of fond memory for Hal, I know.” She kissed his pale, troubled face and turned to Victor. “Sir, Charles said that you had come from France to help him. You must have thought me very silly and—I expect I have made things more difficult for you. I am sorry for that, but—I did not know … Even now, 'tis so difficult to accept all this, perhaps because I love my country dearly, and—” She faltered to a halt.

“And I am an enemy,” he interpolated gravely. “Of course, ma'am, I quite understand.”

“If my brother calls you friend, sir, I do not see how I could—name you enemy.” Her eyes, which had lowered, lifted to his and were trapped for a long, breathless moment. Then she went on hurriedly, “I think all the lies that—that
both
of you have told have been to protect me. No?”

“We tried.” Charles tightened his arm about her. “You're a Trojan for taking it like this, love. Go to your bed now and try to forget—”

“No, dear!” she said with a touch of her usual spirit. “I
must
know what 'tis all about!”

Charles sighed and glanced at Victor. “Is a wilful creature, this sister of mine.”

“Aye,” agreed the Scot, his eyes saying a great deal more than that one word as he watched Rosamond. “But she has that right, you know.”

“A right that could pave her way to the block,” said Charles bitterly.

“She already knows too much for her own safety, alas. 'Twould be better to my way of thinking were she to know the whole. At least then she'd know what she must guard against. But the decision is yours, lad.”

Not waiting for that decision, Rosamond put in, “I always believed Hal to be the most patriotic of men. Whatever induced him to switch his allegiance to the Jacobite Cause?”

Charles hesitated, but then answered slowly, “You'll remember how deeply Hal was affected by his father's death?”

“Yes. But he was so very kind to Aunt Violet, and so anxious for her. Papa worried for him, I think.”

“He did. Is a kind-hearted gentleman, Rosa. 'Twas his idea, when Aunt Violet began to recover her spirits, that Hal should go to Paris for a change of scene.”

“I know. And—oh! Was
that
when Hal met Prince Charles?”

Charles nodded. “And was deeply impressed by him.”

“'Twas a mutual liking,” put in Victor. “I saw them together, often. They were best of friends.”

“When he came home from France,” resumed Charles, “Hal told me of his extreme admiration for the Prince. He had no use for the House of Hanover, and had pledged his sword to Stuart. You may believe I was horrified. I tried everything: reason, prayer, pleading, shouting. Even a threat to tell my father.” He smiled at Rosamond's startled exclamation. “Which I did not do, obviously. Nothing would move him. He returned to France the following year, and spent three months working for the Jacobite Cause.”

“Did Debbie know?”

“She did not learn the truth until after—” He paused very briefly. “Until after his death.”

Victor said, “Your brother worked a minor miracle in leading everyone to believe Singleton had volunteered to fight for the king. I'll never understand how you managed that, Charles.”