The Sherbrooke Bride (33 page)

“He was kind to me.”

“A noble reason, surely!”

“It was close enough,” Douglas said smoothly. “She feared you wouldn't want her if you knew what General Belesain had done to her. I was a better father for her child than any of those bastards.”

Georges hissed through his front teeth, “All those bloody men should die.”

“Quite possibly,” Douglas agreed.

Tony said after a moment of tense silence, “All this is quite interesting, but isn't the scoundrel responsible for all this misery enjoying himself at this moment? All these bloody unknown men will remain unknown. Why don't we go teach this Belesain fellow a lesson he won't ever forget? Why
shouldn't he be the one to pay for all this misery?”

Georges Cadoudal didn't often smile. He was merciless in achieving the ends for the causes he believed in. He couldn't afford softness and all lightness and humor had fled from his life many years before when he'd watched his mother and father and two sisters murdered by Robespierre. He was a man committed; a man committed didn't smile.

He smiled more widely.

“Jesus,” he said. “How should I kill him? There are many methods, you know. Many, indeed. I have quite a range, a lot of choice. Shall it be slow? Shall we make him scream and plead and beg to know the final moment of his miserable life? Shall I use the garrote?” He rubbed his hands together, his eyes alight, his mind racing with plans and strategies.

Douglas said, “You forget that he is surrounded by more soldiers than I could count. He lives in a fortress. He has guards accompany him everywhere. He also knows me by sight and you and Janine.”

They brooded in silence.

Tony said, “He's never seen me before.”

“Oh no,” Douglas said. “This isn't your fight, Tony.”

“I don't know about that, it—”

Alexandra moaned softly; she opened her eyes to see Douglas over her, smiling gently. She felt his hand pressed against her. “Am I going to live, Douglas?”

He leaned down and lightly kissed her mouth. He said very quietly, “Oh yes. I have missed your impertinent tongue, madam. I have missed your pathetic flights of French. Most of all I have missed holding you against me.”

She was crying; she didn't want to but the tears fell and trickled down the sides of her face. He wiped them away with his fingers. “Hush, love, I don't want you to make yourself ill. Hush. Now, just hold still. Are you warm enough?”

She nodded, gulping.

“I will continue the pressure for some more minutes. Then I'll bathe you and make you more comfortable.”

“I lost our child. I lost your heir, Douglas, and that is all you wanted from a wife, from me. I did promise to be a brood mare but I've failed. I am so very sorry, but—”

“You will be quiet. It happened and that is that. I want you to be all right. You are what is important. Do you understand me? I'm not lying. It's the truth.”

He hated the pain in her eyes, the pain of her loss, the pain of what she believed to be an irreparable loss to him. He would convince her otherwise. And eventually she would believe him. He started to say something but saw that she was no longer crying. Her eyes had narrowed. It was remarkable how she could be crying pathetically one moment and looking mean as hell the next. “What is that French hussy doing here? Did she follow you again, Douglas? I won't have it, I tell you! Tell me what to say to her, please.”

“All right. Say,
'Je suis la femme de Douglas and je l'aime. Il est à moi.' ”

She looked at him suspiciously.

“You are telling her that you are my wife and that you love me. You are telling her that I belong to you.”

“Say it again.”

He did, slowly.

Alexandra opened her mouth and shouted the words to Janine Daudet.

There was stunned silence, then Georges said thoughtfully, “I prefer your rendition of
merde,
I think. It brought the entire Hookams bookshop your English aristocracy love so well to a standstill.”

Douglas smiled, something he wouldn't have thought possible. As for Alexandra, she was still thin-lipped as she looked at Janine Daudet. “Tell her, Douglas, tell her that if she ever again lies about you, I will make her very sorry.”

Douglas didn't hesitate. He spoke rapid French to Janine. She stared from him to Alexandra, then nodded slowly.

Georges was rubbing his jaw as he said to Douglas, “Thankfully you didn't break it.”

“You deserve that I thrash you within an inch of your life. However, I agree with Tony. I want to see Belesain pay for his crimes.”

“Your eye is quite black,” Janine said. “Did she do this to you?”

“No, but it doesn't sound odd to think that she would be quite capable of blacking both my eyes.”

 

It was one o'clock in the morning. There was no moon. Dark clouds hid the few stars that would have shed light on the three men as they ran, bent low, from the shelter of one tree to the next.

There were no lights coming from the mayor's charming house in Etaples. There were four guards patrolling the perimeter. They were bored and tired and they spoke in low voices, trying to keep themselves awake.

The three men were on their haunches not fifteen
yards from the guards. Douglas said low, “Tony, take down the one on the right. You take the one at the far corner over there, Georges.”

“But that leaves two of them,” Tony said.

“Don't worry, they're mine,” Douglas said and he rubbed his hands together. He saw that Georges would disagree and quickly said, “No, I am a better fighter in the dark. Obey me in this. Once we're away from France, you can kill entire battalions, Georges.”

Georges didn't like it. He was always the one in control, the commander of any and all raids. But he owed Douglas; he also respected his abilities, and thus held his tongue. Further, it hurt to talk because Douglas had hit him so hard in the jaw. Also it was difficult to see clearly. His right eye was now only a tiny slit.

They waited in absolute silence until the four guards were at their farthest points, then they scattered, hunkered down, appearing just shadows in the night.

Douglas planned to take the two remaining guards when they came together. He couldn't wait. He was grinning in the darkness. The dried mud on his face itched but he ignored it. The three of them were dark shadows on this particular night. He watched Tony make his way toward the guard. He remained relaxed. He grunted in satisfaction when Tony brought the man down, his forearm pressed hard into his throat, the only noise the man was making was a soft gurgling sound. As for Georges, he grabbed his guard, twisting his arms behind him and arching his back. He didn't kill him but Douglas knew he wanted to. He was relieved that Georges was sticking to their agreement.

Douglas readied himself. The guards were drawing closer. One was speaking and Douglas heard him say, “Ho, where's Jacques?”

“Probably relieving himself. He drank too much of that cheap wine.”

They were nearly together. Douglas was silent and fast. He was on them before they saw him. He grinned and said in his flawless French, “Good evening, gentlemen!” He sent his right elbow into one man's belly and his left fist went into the other man's throat. He twirled on the balls of his feet, and slammed his foot into one guard's chin while his other hand struck the other guard dead center in his chest. Both fell like stones. Douglas quickly dragged the two men into the bushes and straightened. He gave a soft hooting sound and Georges and Tony were beside him in an instant.

“Well done,” Tony whispered. “Remind me not to enrage you ever again, cousin.”

Douglas grunted. They quickly tied the men and stuffed gags into their mouths. Douglas then led the way to the side of the house to the salon where he and General Belesain had played the card game so long before. The window was locked. Douglas gently broke it, tapping it lightly with the palm of his hand.

Tony made a cup with his hands and hefted Douglas up. He slithered through the window, dropping lightly onto the carpeted floor. In moments, Tony and Georges were with him.

Silently they made their way up the wide front stairs, shadows against the wall, low and swift.

There was one guard outside General Belesain's bedchamber. He was sprawled against the wall, sound asleep, his pistol on his lap.

Douglas tapped him with the butt of his own pistol over his right temple. He slumped over and lay on his side against the wall.

“Now,” Douglas said. Very quietly he turned the knob to the bedchamber door. The door made no sound. Slowly, slowly, he pressed the door inward. It was perfectly silent. He stepped inside.

He looked toward the bed but couldn't make out the general's body. He took another step forward then froze.

“Ah, that's right,” the general said low, not an inch from his ear. His pistol was pointed in the middle of Douglas's back.

“Who are you, eh? A thief breaking into this house? A fool, more like. I will see in a moment. You see, I heard you, for I have the insomnia, you know? I heard you; I hear everything.”

Douglas didn't move. He didn't hear any noise from Tony or Georges in the hallway not two feet away.

A candlelight flickered and he was momentarily blinded when Belesain thrust it directly in front of his face.

“You,” Belesain said and he was shocked. “I don't believe this, it makes no sense. Why are you here?”

Douglas said nothing.

“Ah, it matters not for you will die in any case. There is no reason not to kill you now, save for one small fact you must tell me. There are four guards. I cannot believe that you disabled all of them.”

“He didn't,” said Tony, and slammed the door into Belesain's arm. The pistol went flying. Douglas turned on his heel and smashed his fist into Belesain's stomach.

The man was wearing only a white nightshirt and
presented a perfect target in the dark room.

Georges came through the door and grabbed Douglas's arm. “Now it is my turn,” he said and struck the general hard on the jaw. He went down on his hands and knees and remained there, panting hard, moaning softly.

“He has gotten fatter since last I saw him,” Douglas said.

“He could be skinny as a post and still be a pig,” Georges said, and spit on the general. “Attend me, old man. I am Georges Cadoudal and I am here for retribution. You abused my Janine. You not only kept her prisoner, you raped her and let other men rape her as well.”

“Cadoudal,” General Belesain said dumbly, looking up. “God, it is you.”

“Yes.”

Tony looked dispassionately down at the general whose face had turned whiter than his nightshirt in his fear of Georges. “It is your decision, Georges. What do you wish to do with him?”

Douglas frowned. He prayed Georges wouldn't forget his promise not to kill the man. But he wasn't going to count on it. The rage on Georges's face bespoke pain and fury so deep it couldn't be easily assuaged.

The general said, “Your Janine, Cadoudal? I tell you she wasn't your woman. I had no need to ravish her. I offered her favors, jewels, money, and the like and she willingly came to me, willingly came to all the men who came to her room. They all paid her and she—”

Georges kicked him hard in the ribs, knocking him onto his side.

“That wasn't excessively wise of you, General,”
Douglas said. “I should say that it was rather stupid. Let's get it over with, Georges.”

Tony saw that Georges was smiling in the candlelight. It was a terrifying smile.

“You know what they do to pigs, Douglas?”

The general didn't move.

“No,” Douglas said, “but I imagine I am quickly to learn.”

The general shrieked and tried to scramble away on his hands and knees.

“Hold, old man, or I'll put a bullet through your left calf.”

The general stopped. He was panting hard; he was afraid. He'd been stupid to insult Janine. Now he said quickly, “I know you are an ardent Royalist. I know you want Napoleon exiled or assassinated. I can help you. I have information that will aid you. I can—”

Georges interrupted him easily. “Oh no you don't, General. You have nothing for me. I know you, you see. You are a fat bureaucrat who has no talent, but some power unfortunately. You are malignant; you are a parasite. It is true I hate Napoleon but I also hate fools like you who bleed those around them and torture them for their own enjoyment. Now enough. My friends and I don't wish to remain here.”

Amongst the three of them, they dragged the general downstairs and out of the mayor's charming house.

They returned to the farmhouse by five o'clock that morning to find Alexandra sitting up, wrapped in a blanket, sipping on a cup of very strong coffee. Across from her, on the floor, sat Janine, her hands and feet securely bound, looking furious. She was cursing loudly, yelling to Georges when he walked
through the door. All three men stopped short and stared.