Authors: Christine Trent
“Nathaniel, did you know what was on that ship when you took it?”
“What? No. I was merely patrolling the shores, saw some suspicious activities, and decided to investigate. Two people were loading a suspicious-looking package aboard, and I thought they might be smugglers.”
“Patrolling the shores? Were you invested with that responsibility?”
“No. At least, not yet. I was waiting for my letter of marque to come through.”
Maude screeched her way into the conversation. “Son, what did I tell you about that? That you’d come to no good. I lost your brother thanks to his marriage with this strumpet, and I’m not even out of grieving over the loss of your father to his weak heart. Now what will happen to you?”
“Mother, I tried to explain to them that it was a mistake. They just didn’t listen to me.”
“Of course they didn’t listen to you. Sailing about like a pirate. Whatever is wrong with you? You’re lucky they didn’t shoot you outright. Your conduct is probably treasonous. Do you realize what the punishment is for treason?” Maude’s voice was turning into a
wail. “What would your father say if he was here right now? What will Society think?”
“Mother Ashby,” Marguerite began. “I hardly think Society’s opinion is of first priority.”
Maude turned her rage on Marguerite. “And do you think you’re of some significance in this debate? Had you done as I asked after Nicholas died and moved into Ash House, you and Nathaniel probably would have married and then he wouldn’t have gone off on this … this … adventure.”
So I’ve gone from detested daughter-in-law to the reason for all of her other son’s problems.
Marguerite turned her attention back to Nathaniel. “I believe I can help you, but you must listen to me very carefully.”
“Oh, certainly, Nathaniel, I can help.” Maude was mimicking her now. “I am the sorriest excuse for a relative ever, but I will now wave my hand and rescue you from the terrible trouble you’re in.”
Maude’s behavior was too much, even for Nathaniel. “Mother, do shut up and let Marguerite speak.”
Her indolent son’s irritated outburst stunned Maude into silence. Marguerite was certain only seconds were available before Maude’s storm clouds gathered again, so she’d best speak hurriedly.
“Nathaniel, I was one of the people ’smuggling’ the package on board. When you saw that it was a wax figure, didn’t it occur to you that there are very few waxworkers in England?”
“No, I just thought it was gruesome. Since it wasn’t of any value, I had it tossed overboard.”
“But it was of great value to the British government in the war effort. That’s why you’re in such a bad predicament.”
“How could a wax figure have any importance? And are you saying that you’ve been serving as some kind of spy since Trafalgar?” Nathaniel’s voice was full of admiration.
“I can’t say. But I may be able to speak to certain officials on your behalf to convince them that you were acting quite unintentionally when you stole the figure from them.”
“Oh yes, I always have little knowledge of what I’m going to do next when I’m on my ship.”
And Marguerite knew that was probably true enough.
Maude’s face was a mixture of confused emotions. Marguerite could understand it. A woman Maude disliked more than most might hold the key to her son’s freedom.
Through tightly clenched teeth, Maude said, “I suppose we must thank you for your generosity. If you truly think you can bring influence to bear in getting my son released.”
“I will do my best. But hear me, Nathaniel. You must make me two promises if I’m to do this for you.”
“Anything. Name it.”
“First, you must give up whatever it is you’re doing on the seas. It’s dangerous and foolhardy.”
“Yes, yes, I was ready to give it up anyway.”
“And second, you must promise never to contact me in any way. As of this moment, I hereby repudiate the Ashby family entirely. I don’t want to know anything about any of you ever again. The best part of you died with Nicholas.”
Nathaniel’s face fell. He spread his hands in supplication and one of the oranges tumbled out of the basket and onto the soiled, stone-paved floor. “But, Marguerite, surely you don’t mean that. We’re kin. I had always hoped we might … reconcile to one another and be friends. Very good friends.”
Without looking at her, Marguerite knew Maude was probably ready to thrash her son.
I’ll save you the trouble, madam.
“Unfortunately, I cannot risk my work and my reputation by association with your tainted past. I’ll take my leave now. And remember, do not ever attempt to write or see me ever again.”
Thankful that the guard had reappeared, Marguerite followed him without looking back at whatever odious expression Maude Ashby might be wearing. She headed back once more for Admiralty House to plead Nathaniel’s case before Lord Grey and Mr. Fox.
The next afternoon, Brax reported to Marguerite that Nathaniel had been released that morning, upon the government’s reconsideration of his actions.
In a strange way, Marguerite was pleased to have done Nathaniel this service. He was just a pitiful idiot, after all, without the wherewithal to plan out an act of treason. And as a result she could wipe the Ashbys from her mind forever.
The man read the coded message in dismay. He’d worked so hard to get to this point, and everything was going awry.
Napoleon was furious with him. The wax figure that he’d signaled was headed for Valencia had never been seen, and Ferdinand was still in Madrid. The emperor demanded to know whether his agent in England was a complete
imbécile.
Did he or did he not know what the English were doing?
I was already irritated by Spain’s apparent duplicity and planned to deal with them appropriately. My concern is that I must also attend to you.
The thought of being “attended to” by Napoleon Bonaparte was enough to send a small prickle of alarm up the man’s spine. He returned to the letter.
Even more disturbing to me are sightings of British diplomats in Naples. Reports come to me that they have been seen near the Palace of Caserta, but no meeting has been requested with my brother Joseph. How are the British creeping about my kingdom without making themselves known?
More importantly, why didn’t you know about it and report it to me?
Then I must ask myself, was this a feint by the British? Is this another purported wax figure wandering about in an attempt to distract me from more important war matters?
I grow weary of your unreliable reports. I am also exasperated by this waxworker, whom you continue to assure me is an innocent in these schemes. I do not think so.
But I offer you an opportunity to redeem yourself and solve several problems for me. So that I am no longer annoyed by these person / wax figure sightings, you are to take care of this waxworker. It doesn’t matter to me what you do with her, but make sure I don’t have to deal with the results of her efforts again.
The man crumpled the note and threw it in the fireplace. This had become a decidedly messy business. He hadn’t bargained for this. But obey he must.
Nathaniel was once again lodged at Ash House, a new man. He had officially disbanded his crew, although most of them had wandered off anyway when their captain was arrested. The ship he would sell off as soon as possible. Now clean-shaven and in new clothes, with most of his interrogation injuries healed, he was ready to face life afresh.
He applied more of his cologne, a blend of rosemary and bergamot. They said Napoleon was using fragrance by the gallon. He sniffed about himself appreciatively.
If it was good enough for Bonaparte, surely it was enough for Nathaniel Ashby.
He clipped on his timepiece and made one final check in the mirror.
“You’re a handsome devil, Ashby. How can she resist?” he asked himself aloud.
Ignoring his mother’s questions as to where he was headed, Nathaniel left Ash House for the mews to saddle a horse and be on to his destination.
Or rather, his destiny.
For surely Marguerite said all that nonsense about never contacting her again as a feint for his mother, whose irrational hatred of her daughter-in-law was really quite incredible. No, such self-sacrific
could only mean that Marguerite was trying to secretly save him for herself without Mother knowing.
Once he realized that Marguerite was in London, it was a simple matter to find out where the newest waxworks location was. What a sweet irony that she was living so close to his home while he was out proving himself on the high seas.
He patted the small bundle tied around his waist. It held his journal of thoughts and plans, which he’d thankfully been able to save when the navy had shown such poor taste in yanking him from his ship. He preferred not to think about his subsequent questioning, which was also of dubious propriety.
But that was all behind him. Marguerite’s devotion would be trebled when she read his profound ruminations. Any doubts she might have had about his worthiness as compared to Nicholas would be swept away like the tide.
Ah, this must be the wax exhibition. What looked like live human beings stood in the large windows, with pedestrians stopping to stare in awe. He slid heavily off his horse and tied it to a post, brushed some road dust from his clothing, and entered the exhibition to claim his true love.
He paid his admission to the thin, pale young man at the entrance, asking where he might find the proprietress. The ticket seller pointed toward the rear of the building. Nathaniel passed through the various tableaux of the exhibition, which included figures from ancient societies—Greece, Rome, and Egypt, as well as what he had to admit was a spectacular rendition of the Battle of Trafalgar. A bleeding, dying Nelson lay in the middle of the tableau, surrounded by other wax naval officers. Clever.
Was waxworking profitable? If so, he must encourage her to stay in this business.
And then there she was, chatting enthusiastically with a customer over a figure dressed in some foreign military uniform. He waited politely for her to conclude, then waved to her.
Her expression was one of pure shock, he noted with satisfaction.
She didn’t realize I’d come for her so soon.
“Nathaniel, what are you doing here?”
“Good afternoon, dear Marguerite. Weren’t you expecting me?”
“No, not at all.”
Ah, how lovely she was, tossing her burnished hair about like that.
“Come now, Marguerite, there’s no need to pretend with me. This is Nathaniel, your former brother-in-law, who holds you in the highest regard. We both know that your performance at the Fleet was for my mother’s benefit and that you really wanted to know more about my enterprises.”
Her quirked eyebrow was just charming.
“Nathaniel, did you think I wasn’t serious that day? I meant it. I don’t want to see you or your mother ever again. Ever.”
“But, Marguerite, I’m getting rid of my ship, so there won’t be any more naval adventures. Just as you asked. That other part you said was just silly. How could you possibly not desire contact with your brother-in-law?”
“I don’t desire it. Listen to me—my two conditions held equal weight. Cease your foolish piracy and forget you were ever related to me. You and your mother are greedy leeches who prey on hapless victims, whether for money, position, or power. You are thoroughly detestable. My connection with you is finished and I will never entertain your presence ever again. Ever. Again.”
“You can’t be sincere.”
“But I am, and I’ll prove it to you. Come with me.”
He followed her without question, his eyes on her swaying hips as she led him to the front of the exhibition hall.
“Mr. James,” Marguerite said to the mousy little man at the ticket counter. “This gentleman is leaving. He is not welcome back to the exhibition, ever. Understood?”
The man nodded. “Yes, madam.”
Marguerite held open the door for him. “Good day to you, Mr. Ashby. I expect never to see you again.”
The door banged shut behind him.
He mounted his horse in disbelief. Did she really mean it? That she wasn’t interested in him? She hadn’t given him a chance,
though. He hadn’t even had an opportunity to show her his journal. That wasn’t fair of her. The horse snuffled beneath him, as though in agreement.
He considered turning back. Surely he was mistaken in her attitude. She had been under tremendous strain as of late, what with being at Trafalgar, then being pressed into service with His Majesty’s government. Maybe she’d come around with time.
If only her eyes hadn’t been devoid of any warmth. He shuddered a little at the thought. No, there hadn’t been any passion, or even kindness, in those eyes at all. When it came down to it, the visit had been altogether unsatisfactory. And he was wearing a very dapper new top hat.
No, the more Nathaniel put actual thought into it, the more he realized that Marguerite must have actually meant what she said at the prison.
So what did that mean for him?
It meant that it truly had been all for nothing. He had no glory, no title, and Marguerite had callously thrown him aside. Had he not ever been in charge of his destiny? Had he always been at the mercy of other people? All of his effort, smashed against the shoals like a ship with no captain.
How depressing.
And what now? An existence alone with Mother, who would never let him forget this. She’d always led him to believe that Nicholas was the great disappointment of her life, but lately it seemed as though she was just as dissatisfied with Nathaniel.
Oh, the carping that will go on for months and months until I am driven to the bottle.
Actually, if he wanted more interesting diversions, he’d heard about a quiet place in London where one could relax the nerves by smoking opium. He’d never tried it before. Might be interesting.
Perhaps Polly would like to sneak away with him. Mother would go completely unhinged if she found out he was cavorting publicly with a house servant. It would be even worse than a relationship with Marguerite.