Edward Burr (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
morethanhonour) wrote2013-03-27 11:50 pm
morethanhonour) wrote2013-03-27 11:50 pm
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The Price of Peace - Chapter Twenty
The Price of Peace
Book Three
Chapter Twenty
3 March, 1803
My dear Miss Long,
I thank you heartily for your patience. I know my letters have, at times, intruded upon your peace. I can assure you now that I am certain it was for the best. You wrote to me last with many questions, and I regret I am not yet able to answer them. If you will give me but one more month, all will be clear. You have my word.
The plans I have mentioned before are set. Only your part remains: Be in Plymouth no later than March fifteen and stay until the seventeenth. Go to shops, frequent fine establishments for food. Make your presence known. Any expenses you incur, I shall repay with compensation for obeying this request. It will make sense when all is said and done.
You have been an angel thus far. I ask now for only a little further trust. My aim is and has always been to see those who can end happily. If, by the first of April, things are not resolved to your satisfaction, I shall endeavour to find a way to repay the debt I shall owe. Only give me until then, sweet girl, and I will not disappoint.
Should you choose to remain in London, no harm will be done. However, if you will consent to do as I ask, I believe fully that more than one broken heart may be mended or at least aided toward a more rapid recovery.
Until I hear from you or, God willing, have the opportunity to properly make your acquaintance, I am ever you most humble servant,
Joseph Clay
‡ ‡ ‡
Edward felt almost certain that his body had, in fact, created new muscles to accommodate all of the pain he felt. Despite her name being Sugarplum, the too-intelligent grey mare was nothing near sweet. She had let Mister Farley handle her without complaint. Remy’s affections had been received with a single snort. When he had mounted, though, she had endeavoured to throw him off in every possible manner. After nearly three hours, he was at least able to convince her to let him sit in the saddle. Making her obey anything but Nathaniel’s commands proved impossible, however.
Still, the master of the house called the lesson a success. Edward suspected that was partially so they could enjoy the lunch Miss Martha had brought for them. After sitting to take the food and tea, though, Edward found he could barely rise. Every muscle protested, and he was inclined to believe they had the right idea. He knew now, too, that he had been quite right about horses. They were perfectly wonderful for pulling a carriage, but riding them was far more trouble than it was worth.
Farley left them to check on his beasts. Edward only just managed not to groan when he said something about another animal of a different temperament and how Edward ought to give that one a try. Once they were alone, Remy came near. His hand covered one of Edward’s and squeezed. Affection was saved for the nights, hidden more and more as the final days sped by. In two days, they would begin their journey to Plymouth. Then, they would say goodbye. Edward turned his hand so his palm was against Remy’s, and he gripped it lightly.
“We go north first,” Edward murmured. There could be no hesitation when the day came; they both had to know their course perfectly. “A three hour ride. Then, we walk to the next town over and hire another driver.” Plenty of carriages were Joseph’s idea. If they only appeared to, every time, be making a fairly short visit, fewer people might be able to guess their final destination. If Miles were trying to intercept them, that would give him trouble, as would a slower, less direct path. “Then four hours west.”
“A short sleep.” Remy took up the thread. His voice was something of a mix of amusement and reassurance. He leaned in close and pecked Edward on the lips. “Or, perhaps, we won’t sleep.” He smiled when Edward chuckled. “Then, we’ll take another carriage and begin our path south.”
Edward sighed. “I’ll be glad when this is over.” He caught his lover for a proper kiss. “I wish you were not leaving, but, as you are— I will sleep soundly again at last when you have boarded Carolina and she has set sail.” The thought of Remy leaving was painful, but the fear of capture was worse. He frowned when Remy laughed.
“You are such a romantic, my dear,” the Frenchman said. “You have imagined a great flight, have you not? Pursued, looking around every corner.” Edward glared. “It is charming.” Remy chuckled again when he looked away. “I only fear the reality will be very peaceful and quite dull in comparison.”
Edward kissed Remy, cupping his face with one hand as he kept him near. “I hope so, my love. I would be very glad for that.”
‡ ‡ ‡
Rebecca bated the feeling this house still had. She missed her father terribly, and Nathaniel seemed both further removed from her and more likely to snap at a noisy servant. Mister Martineau and Mister Burr rarely called on her, and even Joseph took nearly an hour to come to her room after she had fainted the day before. It was most unbecoming of gentlemen to behave so, she felt.
“Good afternoon, Miss Farley,” Martha said when she entered. She carried in a tray of tea, cakes, and a tonic from Joseph. “Miss Natalie says you didn’t take breakfast. Eat up, Miss, or it’s my hide’ll be had by Mister Farley.”
Rebecca crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve no appetite. Eating will only serve to make me ill.” If Joseph heard she was unable to eat, he would come and check on her.
Martha sighed. One of the older women used to sigh like that at her. She’d convinced her father to fire her. Nathaniel would not be nearly as stubborn, especially not about someone as new as Martha. Rebecca sank further back into the cushioned back of her chair. She hated people— servants especially— who scoffed at her illness. She would not abide them in her home, particularly.
“I’d be grateful if you’d be kind enough to try, Miss Farley. Just a bite or two of a cake, if you would.” She smiled, like a nurse with a child. Rebecca wanted her out. Not only from the room but the house as well, out of her family’s service entirely. “If you don’t feel quite right after that, I’ll see that Mister Farley and Mister Clay come at once.”
‡ ‡ ‡
Joseph took a long sip of brandy. The morning after next, all of this would be out of his hands. He had done all he could, seen every step planned to have its maximum effect. All Edward had to do was follow a charted course. He would see its twists and turns as the wind of fortune turning in his favour again. Of course, eh knew all too well that Edward might, at any moment, decide to go his own way. Then, he really would be at the mercy of wind and tide. All Joseph could really hope for was that Edward would shy away from any actions that might endanger Martineau. So long as this ended now, there was still some hope for a future of respectability.
What would truly become of him, Joseph could not say. Miles would have no evidence of his involvement with this matter. In their lives, though, proof did not always matter. One whiff of disloyalty, and their masters— for even Miles answered to someone— might either forcibly remove Joseph from his profession, slowly withdraw any assignments of true merit, or, if enough time passed to make what secrets he knew obsolete, bargain with their enemies using him.
He thought again of his world’s holy grain. The ledge might not exist. Not, at least, as one conclusive, clear document. It might be a hundred pages spread over fifty handlers. Still, if the whole roster of English spies did exist, he wished he could lay his hands on it. A man in possession of that would hold all the power of the world. Or, at least, enough to protect himself and those dear to him in trying times such as these. He took another long drink from his glass and set it aside with a sigh.
“Excuse me, sirs,” Drake, the butler, said as he came into the room. He was a gem, Joseph reflected, the very soul of discretion. If he disapproved of either of the couples residing in the house, he made no show of it. “A gentleman has arrived, asking for Mister Clay.”
Nathaniel sat up a little. Save Martineau and Edward, he did not receive guests here. Letters came, certainly, but no person disrupted Joseph’s stays at Heather Grange. It seemed impossible that someone would call, and it bordered on the sacrilegious. “Thank you, Drake. Show him in.”
Joseph waited, slowly straightening in his seat as he did so. He felt offended. Heather Grange was his haven. He could be summoned away, yes. A few words on paper were all that was required; that face was well-documented. Why, then, would someone call on him here? It was an unnecessary intrusion. The object, he was sure, was to surprise him, perhaps even unsettle him. It was successful, which only irritated Joseph further.
Somehow, he was not shocked when he saw Miles standing on the threshold of the room. It made sense, suddenly. Who else would trespass so? Only this man would be bold enough and callous enough to come here now rather than write. While Joseph only moved to the edge of his seat, Nathaniel rose fully. It was not wholly unimpressive. While Nathaniel might have only an inch on Miles in height, his build was at least twice as broad. He had lived an active life while Miles had kept to his books and secrets, so the difference in muscle was obvious, too.
Miles, as Joseph could expect, reveal no alarm. If anything, his casual tone and formal but easy posture suggested he was quite an expected guest, even an invited one. “I’m here for Captain Martineau.” In his mind, it was that simple.
Nathaniel— God bless him— knew when to remain extremely still and silent, and he did it without looking at all nervous. Joseph sighed as he looked at Miles. “I expected you a week ago, Miles.” He frowned and rose to his feet. “I delayed them as long as I could.” He could almost feel Nathaniel’s doubt and wished he could be disappointed. He was too good at his job. At least he could vindicate himself. “You’re too late, though. They left this morning, headed north. Unfortunately, Mister Burr would not disclose their destination, even to me.”
Miles stared at him. Joseph shifted carefully. It was important here to react to the silent pressure in those eyes. Even an honest man would be nervous after delivering such bad news at such a crucial time. To be too confident spoke of the bravado of a lie. It was a double-bluff that could easily backfire. With Miles, Joseph could be fairly certain he would never know if Miles believed him or not. He was inclined to think Miles doubted him on at least one of his claims.
It was then that Martha entered, apologising for the intrusion. “But,” she said, looking very grave, “Miss Farley has taken very ill. It’s not a faint this time, Mister Clay. She took just a little stew for supper, and it’s given her no peace. It’s an awful pain in her stomach, sir.”
Miles eyed her with all the uncontained glee of a hound seeing a fox upwind and unawares. “Pardon me, Miss,” he said at his most charming. “I am here to ask after a Mister Edward Burr.”
Joseph did not dare to breathe. Miles would see any attempt at coaching the girl he made. She would undo everything simply by being innocent and helpful. His heart sank when she smiled.
“I’m very sorry, sir,” she said. “Mister Burr and Mister Martineau left this morning. I believe they mentioned returning to Crawford Manor for the spring. Or perhaps that was just Mister Burr.” She giggled quietly, a silly sound Joseph had never heard her make before. “I shouldn’t think Mister Long would like that very much. If they were both to go back to his house.”
To someone who didn’t know better, the smile Miles wore might look indulgent. “Why is that?” Joseph knew he was fishing.
“Well, sir, I think Mister Martineau’s keen on Mister Long’s wife.”
“Martha,” Nathaniel broke in, almost as if on cue, “enough gossiping. Go.” The girl left, and he looked at Miles. “As you’ve been told, sir, they have gone, and my sister is ill. Drake will show you to the door.”
Miles put up no resistance, at least not visibly. By the time he and Nathaniel reached Rebecca’s room to see how she was, they found her peacefully asleep in her bed with no signs of any illness having troubled her for the evening. Joseph smiled at himself and led Nathaniel away.
Book Three
Chapter Twenty
3 March, 1803
My dear Miss Long,
I thank you heartily for your patience. I know my letters have, at times, intruded upon your peace. I can assure you now that I am certain it was for the best. You wrote to me last with many questions, and I regret I am not yet able to answer them. If you will give me but one more month, all will be clear. You have my word.
The plans I have mentioned before are set. Only your part remains: Be in Plymouth no later than March fifteen and stay until the seventeenth. Go to shops, frequent fine establishments for food. Make your presence known. Any expenses you incur, I shall repay with compensation for obeying this request. It will make sense when all is said and done.
You have been an angel thus far. I ask now for only a little further trust. My aim is and has always been to see those who can end happily. If, by the first of April, things are not resolved to your satisfaction, I shall endeavour to find a way to repay the debt I shall owe. Only give me until then, sweet girl, and I will not disappoint.
Should you choose to remain in London, no harm will be done. However, if you will consent to do as I ask, I believe fully that more than one broken heart may be mended or at least aided toward a more rapid recovery.
Until I hear from you or, God willing, have the opportunity to properly make your acquaintance, I am ever you most humble servant,
Joseph Clay
‡ ‡ ‡
Edward felt almost certain that his body had, in fact, created new muscles to accommodate all of the pain he felt. Despite her name being Sugarplum, the too-intelligent grey mare was nothing near sweet. She had let Mister Farley handle her without complaint. Remy’s affections had been received with a single snort. When he had mounted, though, she had endeavoured to throw him off in every possible manner. After nearly three hours, he was at least able to convince her to let him sit in the saddle. Making her obey anything but Nathaniel’s commands proved impossible, however.
Still, the master of the house called the lesson a success. Edward suspected that was partially so they could enjoy the lunch Miss Martha had brought for them. After sitting to take the food and tea, though, Edward found he could barely rise. Every muscle protested, and he was inclined to believe they had the right idea. He knew now, too, that he had been quite right about horses. They were perfectly wonderful for pulling a carriage, but riding them was far more trouble than it was worth.
Farley left them to check on his beasts. Edward only just managed not to groan when he said something about another animal of a different temperament and how Edward ought to give that one a try. Once they were alone, Remy came near. His hand covered one of Edward’s and squeezed. Affection was saved for the nights, hidden more and more as the final days sped by. In two days, they would begin their journey to Plymouth. Then, they would say goodbye. Edward turned his hand so his palm was against Remy’s, and he gripped it lightly.
“We go north first,” Edward murmured. There could be no hesitation when the day came; they both had to know their course perfectly. “A three hour ride. Then, we walk to the next town over and hire another driver.” Plenty of carriages were Joseph’s idea. If they only appeared to, every time, be making a fairly short visit, fewer people might be able to guess their final destination. If Miles were trying to intercept them, that would give him trouble, as would a slower, less direct path. “Then four hours west.”
“A short sleep.” Remy took up the thread. His voice was something of a mix of amusement and reassurance. He leaned in close and pecked Edward on the lips. “Or, perhaps, we won’t sleep.” He smiled when Edward chuckled. “Then, we’ll take another carriage and begin our path south.”
Edward sighed. “I’ll be glad when this is over.” He caught his lover for a proper kiss. “I wish you were not leaving, but, as you are— I will sleep soundly again at last when you have boarded Carolina and she has set sail.” The thought of Remy leaving was painful, but the fear of capture was worse. He frowned when Remy laughed.
“You are such a romantic, my dear,” the Frenchman said. “You have imagined a great flight, have you not? Pursued, looking around every corner.” Edward glared. “It is charming.” Remy chuckled again when he looked away. “I only fear the reality will be very peaceful and quite dull in comparison.”
Edward kissed Remy, cupping his face with one hand as he kept him near. “I hope so, my love. I would be very glad for that.”
‡ ‡ ‡
Rebecca bated the feeling this house still had. She missed her father terribly, and Nathaniel seemed both further removed from her and more likely to snap at a noisy servant. Mister Martineau and Mister Burr rarely called on her, and even Joseph took nearly an hour to come to her room after she had fainted the day before. It was most unbecoming of gentlemen to behave so, she felt.
“Good afternoon, Miss Farley,” Martha said when she entered. She carried in a tray of tea, cakes, and a tonic from Joseph. “Miss Natalie says you didn’t take breakfast. Eat up, Miss, or it’s my hide’ll be had by Mister Farley.”
Rebecca crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve no appetite. Eating will only serve to make me ill.” If Joseph heard she was unable to eat, he would come and check on her.
Martha sighed. One of the older women used to sigh like that at her. She’d convinced her father to fire her. Nathaniel would not be nearly as stubborn, especially not about someone as new as Martha. Rebecca sank further back into the cushioned back of her chair. She hated people— servants especially— who scoffed at her illness. She would not abide them in her home, particularly.
“I’d be grateful if you’d be kind enough to try, Miss Farley. Just a bite or two of a cake, if you would.” She smiled, like a nurse with a child. Rebecca wanted her out. Not only from the room but the house as well, out of her family’s service entirely. “If you don’t feel quite right after that, I’ll see that Mister Farley and Mister Clay come at once.”
‡ ‡ ‡
Joseph took a long sip of brandy. The morning after next, all of this would be out of his hands. He had done all he could, seen every step planned to have its maximum effect. All Edward had to do was follow a charted course. He would see its twists and turns as the wind of fortune turning in his favour again. Of course, eh knew all too well that Edward might, at any moment, decide to go his own way. Then, he really would be at the mercy of wind and tide. All Joseph could really hope for was that Edward would shy away from any actions that might endanger Martineau. So long as this ended now, there was still some hope for a future of respectability.
What would truly become of him, Joseph could not say. Miles would have no evidence of his involvement with this matter. In their lives, though, proof did not always matter. One whiff of disloyalty, and their masters— for even Miles answered to someone— might either forcibly remove Joseph from his profession, slowly withdraw any assignments of true merit, or, if enough time passed to make what secrets he knew obsolete, bargain with their enemies using him.
He thought again of his world’s holy grain. The ledge might not exist. Not, at least, as one conclusive, clear document. It might be a hundred pages spread over fifty handlers. Still, if the whole roster of English spies did exist, he wished he could lay his hands on it. A man in possession of that would hold all the power of the world. Or, at least, enough to protect himself and those dear to him in trying times such as these. He took another long drink from his glass and set it aside with a sigh.
“Excuse me, sirs,” Drake, the butler, said as he came into the room. He was a gem, Joseph reflected, the very soul of discretion. If he disapproved of either of the couples residing in the house, he made no show of it. “A gentleman has arrived, asking for Mister Clay.”
Nathaniel sat up a little. Save Martineau and Edward, he did not receive guests here. Letters came, certainly, but no person disrupted Joseph’s stays at Heather Grange. It seemed impossible that someone would call, and it bordered on the sacrilegious. “Thank you, Drake. Show him in.”
Joseph waited, slowly straightening in his seat as he did so. He felt offended. Heather Grange was his haven. He could be summoned away, yes. A few words on paper were all that was required; that face was well-documented. Why, then, would someone call on him here? It was an unnecessary intrusion. The object, he was sure, was to surprise him, perhaps even unsettle him. It was successful, which only irritated Joseph further.
Somehow, he was not shocked when he saw Miles standing on the threshold of the room. It made sense, suddenly. Who else would trespass so? Only this man would be bold enough and callous enough to come here now rather than write. While Joseph only moved to the edge of his seat, Nathaniel rose fully. It was not wholly unimpressive. While Nathaniel might have only an inch on Miles in height, his build was at least twice as broad. He had lived an active life while Miles had kept to his books and secrets, so the difference in muscle was obvious, too.
Miles, as Joseph could expect, reveal no alarm. If anything, his casual tone and formal but easy posture suggested he was quite an expected guest, even an invited one. “I’m here for Captain Martineau.” In his mind, it was that simple.
Nathaniel— God bless him— knew when to remain extremely still and silent, and he did it without looking at all nervous. Joseph sighed as he looked at Miles. “I expected you a week ago, Miles.” He frowned and rose to his feet. “I delayed them as long as I could.” He could almost feel Nathaniel’s doubt and wished he could be disappointed. He was too good at his job. At least he could vindicate himself. “You’re too late, though. They left this morning, headed north. Unfortunately, Mister Burr would not disclose their destination, even to me.”
Miles stared at him. Joseph shifted carefully. It was important here to react to the silent pressure in those eyes. Even an honest man would be nervous after delivering such bad news at such a crucial time. To be too confident spoke of the bravado of a lie. It was a double-bluff that could easily backfire. With Miles, Joseph could be fairly certain he would never know if Miles believed him or not. He was inclined to think Miles doubted him on at least one of his claims.
It was then that Martha entered, apologising for the intrusion. “But,” she said, looking very grave, “Miss Farley has taken very ill. It’s not a faint this time, Mister Clay. She took just a little stew for supper, and it’s given her no peace. It’s an awful pain in her stomach, sir.”
Miles eyed her with all the uncontained glee of a hound seeing a fox upwind and unawares. “Pardon me, Miss,” he said at his most charming. “I am here to ask after a Mister Edward Burr.”
Joseph did not dare to breathe. Miles would see any attempt at coaching the girl he made. She would undo everything simply by being innocent and helpful. His heart sank when she smiled.
“I’m very sorry, sir,” she said. “Mister Burr and Mister Martineau left this morning. I believe they mentioned returning to Crawford Manor for the spring. Or perhaps that was just Mister Burr.” She giggled quietly, a silly sound Joseph had never heard her make before. “I shouldn’t think Mister Long would like that very much. If they were both to go back to his house.”
To someone who didn’t know better, the smile Miles wore might look indulgent. “Why is that?” Joseph knew he was fishing.
“Well, sir, I think Mister Martineau’s keen on Mister Long’s wife.”
“Martha,” Nathaniel broke in, almost as if on cue, “enough gossiping. Go.” The girl left, and he looked at Miles. “As you’ve been told, sir, they have gone, and my sister is ill. Drake will show you to the door.”
Miles put up no resistance, at least not visibly. By the time he and Nathaniel reached Rebecca’s room to see how she was, they found her peacefully asleep in her bed with no signs of any illness having troubled her for the evening. Joseph smiled at himself and led Nathaniel away.