Chapter 2: Act two
Sir Fredrick sailed into Rochefort on March 4, 1839. The crossing had been very slow. The three ships had been becalmed for nearly a week. Several times boat crews were assigned to tow the ships using oars.
Waiting for the Isles family to dock was Patrick Doyle. Several days earlier two of the Isles's galleons had arrived with messages from Captain Fredrick, who had requested that Doyle meet him in Rochefort to discuss urgent business. Patrick Doyle had his own reasons for meeting the incoming ships.
He had long since moved his main operation to Rochefort. The magistrate here was much more cooperative than the one in Ronce. So, he had no need to come from Ronce to Rochefort. No, Doyle was here to meet the daughter, whom he had never seen; the daughter, who had been taken from him without his even laying eyes upon her.
Fredrick Isles was the first man off the ship when it docked. He strode purposefully toward the smuggler. He held out his hand, which Doyle shook firmly. Next came the luggage, which was being managed by several sailors.
Fredrick asked something that Doyle did not hear as he was focused on the activity coming from the ship. So, the Knight of Bath repeated, "Are our accommodations ready?"
Doyle, on whom the words finally registered, replied, "Yes, at your request, I have rented you a small villa by the shore with a private beach. I have also let you office space by the docks, as well as, four large warehouses. Your galleons have already been offloaded into the warehouse space and several buyers have already approached me with bids on the steel and wrought iron at prices about 20% higher than your instructions wanted."
"Did you make any sales," he replied with ill temper?
Doyle only smiled at the outburst, "Do you think me stupid? I know those were only opening bids. They are just bursting to get your iron. Our factories are not making near the quality of your stuff. So, it will bring at least twice what you be wanting."
Sir Fredrick could care less about profit in this case. He needed information and information came from greedy men easier than from honest men. He needed to speak with Doyle in private; the smuggler would be his best source of all.
While the men were talking three children were in tow with a woman, whom he knew. Doyle had met Gina many times and knew her children well. Her man was imprisoned delivering his goods. So, he knew which of the girls his daughter was. A single tear rolled down his face at the beauty of a child she was.
He quickly brushed aside the tear. He could show no weakness to this man or any other. And no one must know that this child was his. He had too many enemies, who would take advantage of such knowledge.
Constance glided before the children and the nanny holding a silk parasol and wearing golden silken robes in the shape of a gown. She was breathtakingly beautiful. Her curves were quite obvious. She was by far the most amazingly beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Mrs. Isles held out her dainty hand to the man she knew was the father of her daughter. The old man, who had sold her the child, told her of the child's origins. Doyle gallantly took her hand on lightly kissed it. She smiled, "How delightful of you to meet us at the docks. Let me introduce you to OUR daughter, Maura."
Her greeting let him know she knew who he was and that she would protect her child to the best of her ability. He relaxed in that knowledge. He had been worried that this delicate flower would not be able to protect and love his child until that one statement. She was a lioness ready to protect her cub. What was more obvious and interesting was the fact that Captain Isles was ignorant of his daughter's parentage.
The child was presented to her father very formally. He asked and received permission to hold the child. She brightly sat in his arms. He relished her warmth for a moment and then reluctant returned the child to her new mother. He said with a grin, "You have a wonderful daughter. I do hope you will love her. I have no children of my own and am jealous of your bounty. If I could only afford the luxury of children, but a man in my business cannot have that weakness to exploit."
His message was equally clear. She was far safer with the Isles and he would lay no claim to the child. Relief was evident in the change in her posture. Yet, Sir Fredrick remained unobservant.
After his family was settled in their new lodgings, Captain Isles arranged to meet with Doyle in his newly rented offices. Workers were busily making the necessary changes to make this the offices of Isles Trading and Shipping. The outer windows were being painted with the necessary advertising. The windows on the doors were being painted with the appropriate message, so everyone knew where to go. Furnishings were being moved about from room to room in order to give each office its proper appearance. This afternoon an advertisement went out in the local papers calling for office staff and sales representatives. Everything looked the way it should look when someone was opening a new branch office.
But Patrick Doyle was no fool. The activity was too obvious. It looked the way it should, but for what purpose though. He could have done everything by correspondence. The office was unnecessary. Tension between France and England was still high, so why would a steel company from England open offices in France. Temporary sales made since, but a permanent office would never be allowed by Queen Victory's government of so vital a military resource.
All these thoughts were running through his head when he went to meet the English nobleman. Doyle hated the English nobility. England had driven his father from his native Ireland. Doyle continued his father's practice of smuggling weapons into Ireland to his Catholic brethren.
However, this man was not an average English noble. He had bought his title with money he had earned through raiding French shipping and French ports in the West Indies. This was a man of action, like himself. Additionally, this man was raising and sheltering his daughter. That counted for much.
So, as Doyle sat in a chair across from the desk of Fredrick Isles, he wondered what was really going on. He, also, wondered if he would really find out, as he asked, "Okay, boyo, what is this all about? I know it ain't to open no trading branch. It makes no sense. You could have hired any number of men, including me, to do it for you. Why are you here, bucko?"
Fredrick knew he would never fool a man like Doyle, whose very profession required him to question every act by everyone around him. So, he decided to answer him as honestly as he could. But he started with a question that he knew would give a lot away, "Do you want Napoleon back? His tax collectors and gatherers, do you wish them to return? How about his secret police, do you wish there return?"
Doyle thought about that for a second. His father had fared well under the original Napoleon, but that was mainly because his father had been a war hero. War heroes got less scrutiny than others in the same business. In the end, his father had changed sides, so that protection would be gone. He had no wish for the days of Napoleon or Charles to return. They were not good for business. So he answered with the truth, "There is no profit in such a turn of events."
Captain Isles search the man's face, trying to read his inner thoughts. The man was unreadable. He had placed his family in danger, if he were wrong about this man. But he was committed, so he continued, "I'm here to see if Louis Napoleon will try another coup d'état like the one in '36. I have reason to believe that he is planning one soon. I need to find out where it will happen and when. I will pay generously for any and all information on the subject, but no one can know my true purpose. I am placing my life and the life of my family in your hands."
Doyle was not happy that the adventurer had placed his Maura in such a situation. He had lied when he said, he had no children. In secret he had son by a whore in Ronce, but the boy was hidden until he could grow to defend himself. He was now twelve and would soon take his place at his father's side, but Maura was a female and would never take to this life. He needed to protect her. Not to mention that she was all that he had left from the one true love he had in this life. "I'll want 20,000 ounces of silver now and another 20,000 when it is done. All bribes and expenses will come from that money, so it will be your only cost. You will more than make that up in your trading here. You will need to bring more shipments in. I would suggest rum and sugar though. Less obvious, than steel."
The trader laughed, "You would lecture me on trade. I have five frigates of rum, sugar and coffee on their way from Louisiana as we speak. I am in the process of purchasing a herd of cattle from Texas and will be bringing in beef as well. From what I have seen in the market places, I should be getting premium prices for such items. For further incentive, I have a proposal for you. I have the some influence with my government at the moment and can offer you and your men a Queen's pardon, if we are successful. You and your men could go home to Ireland."
Doyle thought on this. He already had a fairly elaborate network of smugglers in Ireland. Here he would always be a foreigner doing business, but in Ireland, he would be home. He smiled, "We have a deal."
"Go to my ship and tell my ship's captain to give you the Brighton Chest. In it you will find rubies, sapphires and emeralds worth Ᵽ25,000 sterling, which I believe is more than the entire amount you mentioned. I want a proper job. I will not have you short on funds to do it."
The men shook hands and Doyle left, mentally making a list of contacts in order to get the information he needed.
Doyle's hands were bloody from the wounds inflicted on the man tied to the oaken chair. It was the only sturdy chair in the room. The room was a really a wharf shack in Ronce far from prying eyes and loose tongues. The man could scream all he wanted. No one would hear him.
The man had been involved in the '36 coup attempt. His name was Pierre Marcón, he was a lawyer and in '36 he had arranged for investors for Louis Napoleon. He had gathered together some men with money and an interest in eliminating the haute bourgeoisie. If any man knew what was going on this one would.
For a lawyer, he had proven very tough. He had taken his beatings like a man. Doyle had to admire him for that, but now he was going to have to get serious. He leaned forward and whispered in the man's ear, "Vous pouvez y survivre. Donnez-moi juste un nom. Un nom." You can survive this. Just give me a name. One name.
The wounded man mumbled, " Je ne suis pas un imbécile. Vous devrez me tuer, parce que vous ne pouvez pas être sûrs que j'irai chez la police." I am not a fool. You will have to kill me, because you cannot be sure I will go to the police.
Doyle laughed and snarled, "Vous n'irez pas chez la police, parce que vous devez expliquer votre impliquer avec Louis Napoleon." You will not go to the police, because you have to explain your involve with Louis Napoleon.
For emphasis he put his foot on the chair between the man's legs, "Un nom ou moi devrons commencer sur vos testicules." One name or I will have to start on your testicles.
He sighed with a tear, "Le fait de Monter d'Orléans" The Rose of Orléans.
Doyle walked away from the man's hearing. He did not know if he could speak English, so he said quietly to his bullyboys, "Clip his tongue and blind him. I told him he would survive. Just not how."
Patrick Doyle knew who the Rose of Orléans was. It was Hope Martine. Doyle knew she hated her father and all the bourgeoisie. But to support Louis Napoleon was just plain naïve. He will rape France like his great-uncle. The country was just recovering from Bonaparte. He must find out what she knows and keep her out of this mess. Doyle knew he still loved her, but he had to weigh the profit. And Louis-Napoleon was a bad risk.
Doyle sat down to write a love letter that should bring her back to Ronce for a visit. He would get the information when she arrived. Not knowing where this trail lead, Doyle called for Jonathan Dwyer. Jonathan was going to get the assistant to the magistrate for a short visit. It was a dangerous move to kidnap an official of the French government, but he had to do something to save Hope.
She was in over her head. He knew Louis-Napoleon would use her to sabotage her father and his friends and then cast her aside. He had all the Napoleon ego and little of the Napoleon loyalty. Bonaparte was many things and not a lot of them were good, but he was loyal to those who saved him. Though he lost his way because of his huge ego, he was always a man of honor.
Louis-Napoleon was not such a man. He was a manipulator and opportunist. He would do anything and use anyone to gain his own ends. To him, someone such as Hope was a fool to be used and discarded, because the only person that matter was Prince Louis-Napoleon, son of Louis King of Holland and brother to Napoleon Bonaparte.
Hope had to be saved from this foolishness. She had no idea of the man for whom she was worked.
The assistant to the magistrate of Ronce, Claude de Ville was a short balding man with a large paunch. He loved his food and wine. Jonathan Dwyer had watch him for three days and nights. Each night, he would stop at this café and drink a ten-year-old Bordeaux with a meal of escargot, a quiche Lorraine, baked brie, a cheese soufflé and top with a crème brulee. It was the same dinner three nights in a row.
Dwyer bribed the cooking staff to allow him to make the brulee. In it he added his own ingredient, which would cause Masseur Delareau to have strong stomach pains about one hour after eating the brulee. The café staff would never know.
After leaving the small café, the heavy clerk went home by his usual route. On the way home, he would always stopped at the bakery and bought a loaf of fresh bread and a strawberry tart and then at the wine shop and buy a Château Grillet. It was a fairly new wine grow in the Rhône district.
With purchases in hand the balding fat man turned onto his street. At that moment he doubled over in pain. Dwyer walked up to the man and asked him, "Je vous aide?" Can I help you?
"Oui, mon estomac me tue." Yes, my stomach is killing me.
He took the heavy man under his armpits and helped him to his feet and said, "Je suis un docteur. Mon bureau n'est pas loin. Permettez-moi de vous aider là et je peux l'examen vous correctement." I am a doctor. My office is not far. Let me help you there and I can exam you properly.
Dwyer walked him into a nearby alley and sapped him with a leather sap. He had a carriage waiting with two of his men. They helped him get the unconscious clerk into the carriage and the man take him to see Patrick Doyle.
The fat clerk woke to find himself bound to a chair. He struggled with the ropes for a moment and then decided that screaming would help more. He shouted, "Permettez-moi d'aller. Je suis l'assistant au juge d'instance. J'aurai chacun impliqué accroché. Permettez-moi d'aller immédiatement." Let me go. I am the assistant to the magistrate. I will have everyone involved hanged. Let me go at once.
The room was totally black with darkness, except by the oaken chair. Six bulls-eye lanterns pointed at him in a rough circle. The light coming from the lanterns actually hurt his eyes. He squinted his eyes and search the darkness for anyone to blame.
A voice from the black said, "Vous ne devriez pas menacer d'une position de faiblesse. Il montre que vous êtes effrayés. Vous devriez être effrayés. Vous voyez si vous saviez qui n'importe lequel d'entre nous étaient, je devrais vous tuer pour nous protéger. Mais fortunity pour nous, vous n'avez aucune idée que nous sommes. Ce n'est pas vrai ? You should not threaten from a position of weakness. It shows you are frightened. You should be frightened. You see if you knew who any of us were, I would have to kill you to protect us. But fortunity for us, you have no idea who we are. Isn't that true?
The man bowed his head, beaten by a single truth, "Oui," Yes
"Maintenant vous allez me dire tout que vous êtes au courant des plans de Louis-Napoleon's pour son coup suivant d'état. Et avant que vous refusez qu'il y a n'importe quels plans. Soyez assurés que je sais qu'il y a un coup planifié. Maintenant, nous pouvons le faire aimablement et vous avoir à la maison bientôt. Ou nous pouvons le faire la voie dure, qui impliquent des rats affamés et des parties d'entre vous le corps étant leur repas suivant." Now you are going to tell me everything you know about Louis-Napoleon's plans for his next coup d'état. And before you deny there are any plans. Be assured I know there is a planned coup. Now, we can do this pleasantly and have you back home shortly. Or we can do this the hard way, which involve hungry rats and parts of your body being their next meal.
Claude Delareau was not a brave man nor was he a stupid man. He knew he would die a horrible death and still tell everything he knew. He knew the tortures would be terrible and make him talk. So, why suffer? So, he told them of the conversation the magistrate had with Stephan LeBlanc, a representative of Louis-Napoleon. LeBlanc outlined a plan for a coup at Boulogne using hired soldiers. He needed for the magistrate to arrange for a meeting with Spanish mercenaries. The meeting was arrange for two days from today in an inn outside of Ronce.
Doyle smiled. The inn was one of his. He will have to listen in on that conversation. Doyle signaled and one of his men came behind the sweating fat man and put a executioner's hood over his head and sapped him unconscious. The cowardly clerk would wake up in his bed in the morning, having lost only a few hours. He would go back to his life and would say nothing to anyone for fear of reprisal. The fat fool will be jumping at shadows for the rest of his life.
He waved for Dwyer and said, "Take him home and tuck him in. Leave him a note explaining his situation, should he mention our conversation to anyone. When he leaves for work arrange for him to followed. Make it obvious to even this fool. I want him nervous."
Dwyer smiled. Doyle was a crafty one. Dwyer thought, "I would just kill the man, but that would cause so many other problems. No Doyle has the right of it."
Dwyer signal for three men to help him and was off to bring the old fat fool home to his wine and baked goods. He would leave him fresh ones and wondered if the oaf would have the stones to eat them.
Doyle walked away planning how to overhear a quiet conversation.
Sir Fredrick meanwhile busied himself with meeting potential customers. They were all desperate for fresh goods. Trade with France was still slow, as other countries, who had suffered under Bonaparte, were not ready to forgive and forget. As a result, he was getting 30 to 40% over the original price he had thought to get for his goods.
In return for his steel and wrought iron, he received wine, cheese, and gems. He now had a fairly full chest of rubies, emeralds, sapphires, diamonds and pearls. He sent the wine and cheese home with instruction for buying a shipment of wheat from America. France was having trouble feeding its people and grain was selling at very inflated prices. He mind as well make some profit from putting his life and family in danger.
Another thing was coming from his trade activity. He was getting information. He was also gaining the trust of those who would know of Louis-Napoleon's intrigues. By trading so openly, he was demonstrating that he was straying from Queen Victory. It was not in the best interest of Great Britain to have a strong France again.
Captain Isles thought differently. A weak France was open to intrigues. The people were restless and open to anyone who could relieve their hardships. The people were desperate and desperate people were dangerous people. He knew it would be in the Queen's best interest to help the present French government before the next tyrant took power, be it Louis-Napoleon or some other. The present situation cannot last.
All these ideas were drafted into a letter to Queen, which he sent by courier. He felt it was his obligation as a representative of the Queen to relay what he has found out first hand. He did not know what her ambassador were telling her, but he doubted they strayed much from the court or the bourgeoisie, which controlled Louis-Philippe.
He called for his man and his bodyguards. He needed to shop. Today was Maura's first birthday and he wanted to get her a grand gift. He had seen the perfect thing in a shop just six blocks from his offices.
There it was the perfect gift. It was a carousel with four carriages drawn by two white horses each. It stood about seven feet high and had a base of about twelve feet in diameter. She would love it. He purchased the item and arranged to have it delivered and installed with two hours. The clerk said it was impossible, but he had found that enough money made nothing impossible.
Next, he went to a dress shop next door and bought all the silk dresses that the woman had in Maura's size. He had them all boxed and wrapped in golden paper. He loved his daughter more than anyone or anything and spoiled her with his gifts and attention.
He had lived over 40 years with no family or no intentions of having one. Now, he knew what he missed and how empty his life had been without his little love. He had also grown to love Constance. What started as a marriage of business and convenience has grown into a marriage of love, at least for his part. It was hard to tell with Constance, she was so involved in her studies and her interests.
He knew of the coming storm. He knew his coxswain would never approve of his daughter marrying any man. He also knew his man was wrong. Everyone needed someone to make them whole. That is why he has purposely kept Martin in Swansea. He would arrange a discrete marriage between the quiet and shy professor and the beautiful and gay Melissa, while here in France. Then, there would be little Martin could do. He would see to that.
The trader walked into a store that made clockwork toys and porcelain dolls. He purchased ten clockwork toys and twenty porcelain dolls with fifty extra dresses. He left the proper instructions and left.
He had finished his planned stops and was about to enter his carriage, when he saw in a shop window, the last gift. He walked across the road and enter the shop. There it was a large blackboard with a child's desk. It was decorated with ivory and mother of pearl. It had a porcelain finish and was a pale but lively pink. He knew his child was far advanced and gifted with a bright intelligence. This was a gift for the future as well as now. It would be in his house within the hour.
He went to his carriage satisfied with his life and knowing he had everything a man could wish for.
Constance was fussing at a servant about the cake. The cake had to perfect. She was so excited. Constance was never one to involve herself with the activities of the household like so many other housewives, but this was different. This was her love's first birthday. It had to be perfect.
She hired a professional caterer to handle the affair, but she fussed and worried over every detail. She also hired an entire circus for the day. They were setting up their acts in the garden. There would be a fireworks display in the evening and a troupe of clowns and acrobats would be wondering the house performing as they roamed.
Two twenty piece orchestra would be playing constantly in the main dining room. There were two, so one could rest while the other played.
No expense was spared. Maura was no ordinary toddler. She could already converse in complete sentences. She walked better than Bridget, who was three months older. She could run without falling, which Bridget could not do.
Constance loved Bridget as well and had had a nice party for the child's first birthday. She had given the child a gold spoon and a silver brush set. Additionally, she had three silk dresses made for the child. After all the child was the constant playmate of her Maura and had to look presentable.
Constance was interrupted by a panting Georgina. The nearly four year old child was pulling on her dress and trying to say something between pants. Constance asked with an agitated tone, "What is it child?"
The child panted, "Mother has fallen. Come help."
Constance quickly called for two servants to accompany her to the nursery. There she found Gina lying on the floor. She went to the woman and felt her skin. It was clammy and hot. She was sick with fever. She ordered a doctor and had the servant lay the unconscious nanny on the nursery lounger.
She ordered the servants to get cold water and towel. Next she started to remove Gina's dress and petty coats. When she had the woman down to her shift, she looked for any signs of rashes or boils. She fear the plague or some such tragedy. All thoughts of the party were gone for the moment, while she examined the woman.
Though her skin was hot and moist, it felt smooth and inviting. Constance shook her head and went back to her task. The children were now all looking on with worry. Maura had come to love her nanny almost as much as her mother. She knew fever was a bad thing. She had seen the servant girl, Martha, die with the fever. She wasn't quite sure what die meant, but she knew it was bad.
Constance noticed the children and said, "Children go enjoy the day. Your mother is ill, but there are no other signs of anything terribly wrong. She will be fine. I promise. Now, go enjoy the circus and the clowns. Eat pastries and pies and stuff yourselves until you can eat no more. I will take care of our Gina."
The children were reluctant, but the pleasures of the world were inviting. Their attention was drawn to the excitement. So young minds went to the things that young minds could comprehend and the children were herded by a maid to see the wonders of childhood.
Cold water and towels were brought to the young mistress. She wet the towels and started wetting the hot skin with cold water. The water beaded on the young woman's bronze skin. Her breathing was stinted and coarse. Her chest rose with the effort.
Constance watched her chest rise and fall. She noticed how the water trailed lightly into her bosoms. She ran a towel between the bosoms. Gina's breasts were swollen and firm. Milk leaked from her nipples to be absorbed into her shift.
Constance looked about and found she was alone with the woman. She lightly removed the shift from the nipple and wiped the milk away with her towel. Constance gently squeezed the breast to extract more milk, then she wiped it away.
The young woman was aroused by the feel of the sick woman. She suddenly wanted to caress every part of her body. Constance had experience with other women. At the woman's college, she and her roommate had sex every night. They talked quietly of their love. Yet, they both knew that they were destined to be married to someone, who they would barely know.
When the news came for Constance to return to England, the two women had a tearful departure, both knowing they would never see each other again. They would never fondle and kiss each other again. Constance had never forgotten. Sex with her husband was pleasant and he was a tender and attentive lover, but he did not have the tender sensitivity of a woman.
At that moment, the doctor was heard rushing down the corridor. Constance quickly covered the nanny's breast and sponged some more cool water onto her head and neck. Quickly, the doctor examined her. He could find no apparent causes for a fever and diagnosed it be spring fever and gave her some powders to mix in water for the young woman to drink.
The party had been a roaring success, especially the carousel. The children rode it for hours. Other then Maura and the two Deville children, there was only one other child, Jean-Claude Bourbon. Jean-Claude was three years old. He was third cousin to King Charles X and eleventh in line for the throne. His mother was in Rochefort to meet with Sir Fredrick in order to trade hand sewn lace from her district for some of the wheat shipment.
Maria Antoinette Bourbon was from a small poor district near Orleans. She had very little land. Most of her land had been dispersed during the time of Napoleon Bonaparte. She had received some compensation fourteen years earlier from Charles X. She had inherited the estate from her father one year earlier and had almost lost it with the Anti-Sacrilege Act, but thankfully it had failed.
She thought her troubles were over, when she married a rich bourgeoisie, who married her for her title. Tragically, he died of influenza six months following Jean-Claude's birth. Now, food riots were breaking out all over her district and she needed to get her people food and work.
Her first priority was food. If she could somehow, trade for enough food, she could somehow convince the rich Englishman to build some factory or something in her district. She was not a very good at business. Her brothers had been the ones to get the training in finance and administration, but all had died in the Hundred Days. She and her son were the last of her line and she was anxious for his future.
At twenty-eight, she was considered too old to be a good match for anyone other than someone looking for a title. She had had one such husband and was not looking for another. Though, almost thirty, she was a handsome woman. She was no youthful beauty, but the woman had lush curves and a cultured and refined elegance that made her desirable as a bedmate.
Her deep amber eyes and lush blond curls were rare in her circles. However, she was husbandless with a child and a poor barony. Her husband had left most of his money in trust to his son, who would inherit on his twenty-first birthday. Eighteen years was a long time with food riots everywhere.
The Baroness had been approached by many moneylenders, eager to have a lien on the boy's trust, but she refused. She would not put his inheritance at risk for such men. No, she needed this man to help her save what little she had left.
For his part, Sir Isles was most grateful to the Baroness for coming to the party. Every other personage with a child he had invited had snubbed him. There were various reasons given, but the truth was he had bought his knighthood. He was English. And most of all, he was richer than them.
The former sea captain was under no illusions as to why she honored his Maura. She needed his help, but the social significance of Bourbon at the child's party could not be overlooked. The trade she offered was minor and could do much better with many others, but she offered more than money. She offered acceptance for his Maura and that was much more important.
Sir Fredrick, also knew of her small barony's plight. There was no real industry or natural resource there. The lace she had procured was hand sewn by every woman the young baroness could muster in the district. But it was not a real source that could be relied upon for a constant output.
However, her small district had one renewable resource. Her small barony grew sugar beets. These beets were being wasted to fatten cattle. She had used much of her restitution from Charles X on buying cattle. Her idea had been to supply beef, which was always in short supply. However, she did not have enough land to raise cattle. So she used her district's sugar beet crop as cattle fodder.
The Englishman had a better use for sugar beets. He would make rum. He would build a distillery and make high quality rum. The Baroness could even purchase the sugar beet crops of others to make more rum. He would finance the distillery in exchange for exclusive rights to her rum for ten years at 20% below market price. It was a fair deal all the way around.
Patrick Doyle had been surprised by his invitation to his daughter's party. Sir Fredrick must have been very interested in his progress, if he were being invited to such an event. It was not until he got to the party that he found out the invitation came from Constance.
The young mother met him at the door and escorted him into a private room, where she said, "Mr. Doyle, I know you are Maura's father. I would not deprive a father of seeing his daughter on her first birthday. I will give her up, but I am not heartless. If you would like I will allow you five minutes with her. Then, you may enjoy the party like the rest of the guests."
The harder smuggler was moved by an unfamiliar act of kindness. So much so, that he ventured to provide some information, "I am going to tell you a secret. I want nothing to do with the raising of Maura. My business is such that she would be in grave danger if certain parties were to know she were my daughter. No, you raise her and love her and you will have no arguments from me.
But you should know, I will be seeing her mother soon. It is purely business, but I do know she wants her daughter. She doesn't know where her daughter is and I won't be the one atellin her. I just thought you should know, so youse can be prepared."
Constance bowed her head and replied, "Thank you, if you would like to see her. Follow me."
Doyle followed the Lady into the courtyard where the carousel was in full operation and the circus was getting ready to perform. The graceful young woman glided toward the carousel, where a blonde toddler was shrieking at the top of her lungs as the carousel circled round and round.
The lady of the house signaled the houseman to stop the ride for a moment. Maura said, "Go, Go."
But Constance picked up her child, which seemed to placate the young toddler. With bright hazel eyes the child shouted excitedly, "Mama, you see me?"
The young mother smiled and replied, "Yes, I saw you. You know you are going to have to stop and watch the circus."
The child jumped in her mother's arms and cried, "I watch clowns and ele..ele."
Doyle helped, "Elephants?"
The young toddler laughed, "Yes."
Doyle leaned over to the child's ear and whispered, "I love to watch elephants, too. Can I watch?"
She giggled, "Yes."
Doyle could feel Lady Constance's discomfort, so he pulled out an envelope and told the bright and energetic child, "I don't have a carousel, but I have a present for you. In this envelope is a bond for 1000 English Pounds. This is so you will never have to depend on anybody but you."
He handed the envelope to the young mother. She told Maura, "Say thank you for the lovely present."
The child suddenly shy hid behind her mother's sleeve and said, "Tank you."
He asked his daughter, "Can I go see the circus, now?"
She smiled, "Yes!"
Gina was still in bed five weeks later. She was regaining her strength from her bout with spring fever. For the first week her fever got worse. At which point another doctor had been called. He was younger and less schooled with the past and more with the latest illnesses. He diagnosed typhoid fever.
The entire household moved to a hotel. Sir Fredrick secured the entire top floor of the hotel for his family and staff, while Gina convalesced at the villa. Nurses were hired to attend the nanny, who had become such an intricate part of the Isles household. Gina's children stayed with the Isles.
The girls asked every night about their mother. Every night, Constance would review her time visiting the young nanny. For each day for at least one hour, Constance would sit by Gina and hold her hand. She had not forgotten her longings the night she bathed her.
Those longings scared Constance a bit. She had always preferred sex with women, but she had thought she had outgrown the longings. Now, this small woman, who looked so frail and helpless had stirred them.
Her fever peaked the second week. She was red and ranted constantly about things that only meant something to her. Gina would rave and rock, but Constance would just hold the woman in her arms and say soothing words.
During the third week, Gina developed sores on her abdomen and genital area. Constance was the only one brave enough to rub the affected areas with the cream. Even with the rash, the feel of this woman's skin was devastating to the inexperienced mother.
On the fourth week, the fever broke. Gina regained coherency, while demanding some food. She lived on nothing but clear broth for another three days. Each meal was spooned by Constance with Gina arguing with her mistress that this was beneath the lady of the house.
While, Constance was spooning the young nanny chicken broth, three young girls came howling into the sick room. Gina was still weak from her ordeal, but her face alit with joy as she saw her children and young charge for the first time in a month.
The young mistress cautioned the children about being gentle with the sick woman, as she was still recovering. But Gina held out her arms and her two girls ran into them. Maura looked to her mother for further instructions. Constance could only smile, "Go ahead."
A smile jumped on the tiny blonde's face as she charged into the giant hug. The three girls were starting to get overly excited, so Constance intervened and forced them off the bed and had maids move them to the courtyard. Then she continued to feed the patient.
Gina was starting to feel better, but didn't know how to approach her mistress about all the special treatment. Gina had vague memories of when she first was taken ill. She had not been unconscious, just very weak. The petite nanny had felt the intimate touching her mistress had done to her. And now all the attention had the young woman confused.
She knew there were women who loved other woman. Many of the noble ladies had dalliances with their maids, but the brunette had no experience with other woman. However, her husband had been in prison for over a year and she was still a healthy young woman with typical urges.
Though in a bit of a fog, the feel of her mistress's hands on her skin had excited her. Now, with the lovely brunette sitting on her bed spooning some soup into her mouth, the young nanny was feeling stirrings of passion. What was she to do? How should she proceed? Did she really want the attention?
Yes, she decided she wanted the attention. She was a married woman and a man would be too much of a complication. Her mistress also needed discretion to protect her position. Yes, she needed this. She needed the feel of another human being, whether it is a man or a woman. And a man would be an unnecessary complication.
With her decision made, she still didn't know how to approach the beautiful woman. What if she had imagined everything in her fevered state? What if nothing had happened and she had just had some sort of fevered dream? All the young woman knew was that she had to know. That soft touch had awakened a passion in her that she had never felt before.
So, as another spoon of soup was offered to Gina, she asked, "Pourquoi prenez-vous un tel bon soin de moi, la madame ? Sûrement, un domestique pourrait le faire. Je suis un peu plus qu'un domestique. C'est au-dessous de vous." Why are you taking such good care of me, madam? Surely, a servant could do it. I am little more than a servant. This is beneath you.
Constance thought for a long moment before she answered. Then she replied, "Vous êtes plus qu'un pur domestique. Vous avez la nourriture et avez soigné ma fille. C'est une obligation qui est plus serrée que chacun je peux imaginer. Je regrette que je ne puisse pas l'avoir nourrie de mes propres seins, mais Dieu a et m'accorder sans doute jamais l'honneur de maternité. Ainsi quand vous vous êtes vexés, mes instincts maternants émergent. Je ne peux pas l'expliquer mieux. Autre que dire, vous me voulez dire plus qu'un domestique. J'ai grandi pour vous aimer ... comme une soeur, je veux dire." You are more than a mere servant. You have feed and cared for my daughter. That is a bond that is tighter than any I can imagine. I wish I could have fed her from my own breasts, but God has and probably never grant me the honor of motherhood. So, when you took ill, my mothering instincts emerge. I cannot explain it better. Other than to say, you mean more to me than a servant. I have grown to love you...like a sister, I mean.
With her final words, a blush of embarrassment shone brightly upon the Lady's face. Gina took the final words as an opening, "Pourriez-vous m'aimer plus qu'une soeur ? Je n'étais pas complètement avec mes facultés sur cette première nuit. Je pourrais sentir votre désir et je veux juste que vous sachiez que si ce désir existe, je veux l'explorer complètement et entièrement." Could you love me more than a sister? I was not totally with my faculties on that first night. I could feel your desire and I just want you to know that if that desire exists, I want to explore it completely and wholly.
Delicate hands placed the bowl of soup and spoon on the night stand and reached for the recovering woman. Her hands cupped the resting woman's face and looked deeply into the nanny's eyes. She saw desire. She saw passion. She saw lust. So, the young mistress let her wall down and kissed the resting mother passionately. Gina slid her tongue into Constance's waiting mouth. Constance cradled the tongue with her own and search frantically for the bronze toned breast she had caressed weeks earlier.
Quickly, Gina broke the embrace and said quietly, desperately, and impassionedly whispered, "Lock the door."
Constance in alarm looked about the room. She couldn't let her passion be known. She had her position and that of her husband to protect. A dalliance can be overlooked, if it is discrete and deniable. Constance did not know that this was more than a dalliance. Constance did not know when she locked that door, it was opening another. A door that would remain firmly open for the rest of their lives.
Patrick Doyle was a nervous man. He had never gotten over Hope Martine. She is the only woman he had ever loved. It had been over a year since he had last seen her, but he could still smell her, taste her, feel her and envision her. When he had dreams, it was of Hope. When he had nightmares, it was of losing her.
Hope Martine was seventeen, but not like most seventeen year old ladies. Her lovely blue-green eyes were no longer innocent, no longer clear. Her eyes were now perpetually sad. She had lost so much. She had lost her love, her child and the life she wanted more than anything. What made it so hard was that her beloved father had been the instrument of that loss.
She went from adorning her father to despising him in one moment. A moment can last forever in your mind. That is a truth that someone of her tender years and disposition should not be forced to learn. She relives that moment every day. She often holds her stomach, mourning the death of her baby. What makes it so much harder is the doctors, who tell her that she can never have another child.
A seventeen year old girl should not be barren. A seventeen year old girl should not be burden with a future without hope. Even her name mocks her.
The steel in her bows a little, as the youth drops to her settee and cries. She is still crying when she looks up and sees a mirage. A ghost from the past is just standing there watching her sorrow. The distraught woman sobs, "Pourquoi me hantez-vous ? Je n'ai pas souffert assez ?" Why do you haunt me? Have I not suffered enough?
Patrick Michael Doyle, smuggler, Irish gang leader and one of the most ruthless men in France, rushed to the sobbing girl and embraced her with a passion that absorbed them both. In that moment, they merged, they blended. This moment must never be lost was the only thought that came into her head. This is the moment to relive each day.
She girl could only sob, "Vous êtes réels. Vous n'êtes pas un mirage. Vous n'êtes pas un fantôme qui est venu pour me hanter et torturer." You're real. You're not a mirage. You're not some phantom that has come to haunt and torture me.
She burrowed further into his embrace to reassure herself that he was real. He was not a phantom. He was holding her. She was not alone. Then she became aware of the situation and said, "Mon amour, vous ne pouvez pas être ici. Le père aura une rage. Il assaillira chacun je sais, juste se venger." My love, you cannot be here. Father will have a rage. He will assault everyone I know, just to avenge himself.
Doyle laughed as he replied, "Vengez-se ? Ce qui lui avait mal été fait. Ce qui a été pris de lui qu'il a besoin de se venger. Nous sommes ceux qui souffrent pour sa vengeance pour rien d'autre qu'une vanité contusionnée." Avenge himself? What wrong had been done to him. What has been taken from him that he need avenge himself. We are the ones who suffer for his vengeance for nothing more than a slighted vanity.
He pulled back slightly and looked into her frightened eyes and cursed what he saw there. He cupped her face into both his hands and promised, "Je ne vous verrai pas ne souffrir plus. Ce n'est pas comment j'ai voulu que ce soit arrivé. J'ai représenté ce moment dans mon coeur et rêves plusieurs fois, mais ce n'est pas la façon que je l'ai représentée. Le plus cher, je suis venu pour deux buts. Mon premier devait trouver et vous protéger. Ma seconde devait vous prendre de cette situation dans laquelle vous vous êtes reçus." I will not see you suffer anymore. This is not how I wanted this to happen. I have pictured this moment in my heart and dreams many times, but this is not the way I pictured it. Dearest, I came for two purposes. My first was to find and protect you. My second was to take you from this situation you have gotten yourself into.
At that moment caution gripped Hope, her walls started to reform. She became the Rose in that moment. This moment was not one to cherish. "Patrick, de que me protégeriez-vous et quelle situation autre que mon emprisonnement par mon père seriez-vous la référence ?" Patrick, from what would you protect me and what situation other than my imprisonment by my father would you be referring?
Trapped by his own passions, the dark smuggler had to take over, "Je sais que vous êtes le fait de Monter et que vous travaillez pour mettre Louis-Napoleon sur le trône. Je sais que vous le faites pour faire mal à votre père et ceux qui vous ont fait mal. Je sais aussi que vous n'avez aucune idée avec qui vous êtes en activité. Cela peut seulement mettre fin dans la tragédie pour vous. Je peux arrêter cette tragédie du fait de se produire. Mais vous devez vous fier en moi." I know you are the Rose and that you are working to put Louis-Napoleon on the throne. I know you are doing this to hurt your father and those who have hurt you. I also know you have no idea with whom you are dealing. This can only end in tragedy for you. I can stop that tragedy from occurring. But you have to trust me.
She wept, "Pourquoi devrais-je me fier en vous ? Vous m'avez quitté ici pour pourrir depuis plus d'une année. Je suis mort en deuil pour notre enfant chaque jour et chaque nuit. Je n'ai eu aucun confort, aucun mot de consolation tendre." Why should I trust you? You have left me here to rot for over a year. I have died in mourning for our child every day and every night. I have had no comfort, no words of tender consolation.
He replied firmly, "Vous pouvez vous fier en mon amour pour vous. Et vous pouvez espérer que je sais plus de ceux avec qui vous êtes impliqués." You can trust my love for you. And you can trust I know more about those with whom you are involved.
Her worst fears had been confirmed. For the last three months, she had seen things that made her wonder as to the ultimate goals of those she helped. They had even approached her about stealing from her father and his friends. She couldn't do that. So, Hope came back to herself and crawled into her lover's arms and said, "August…It a planifié pour l'août en utilisant des mercenaries" August…It's planned for August using mercenaries."
The man softened and asked as he stoked her hair, "Savez-vous où ?" Do you know where?
She smiled into his eyes and replied, "Boulogne."
With that finished the two lovers renewed their affair.
Jacque Martine was readying for dinner when the man appeared from the terrace of his twenty-four room manor. His room was on the far west wing on the fifth floor. The estate was surrounded by a ten foot brick wall with iron grating all around. Twenty men patrolled the grounds at all times. So, the man's entrance was quite unexpected.
The elder Martine started to call for his manservant, when the intruder produced a small caliber pill box. The gun had six barrels and with such a weapon, there could one round fired or all six at once. The man said in a nonchalant voice, "Ne dérangez pas tous vos gens sont tout à fait occupés. Vos gardes sont fermées dans votre cave de vin et vos domestiques sont dans la salle à manger principale. La plupart d'entre eux sont vivants. Je crois deux des gardes opposées et ai été tué. J'en suis désolé, mais c'est un hasard commercial." Don't bother all your people are quite busy. Your guards are locked in your wine cellar and your servants are in the main dining room. Most of them are alive. I believe two of the guards resisted and were killed. I'm sorry about that, but it is a trade hazard.
The French merchant was shakened. He never imagined anyone could get to him in his own home. He was going to fire every guard. But he had to show strength, so he asked, "Que voulez-vous ?" What do you want?
The intruder smiled and placed a piece of parchment on his bureau and said casually, "Juste votre signature et sceau sur ce document." Just your signature and seal on this document.
The elderly man read the document, than put it down forcefully and exclaimed, "Absolument non." Absolutely not.
The man smiled and suddenly a knife was protruding from Martine's thigh. The stranger merely said, "C'est celui. J'ai encore onze pour aller." That's one. I have eleven more to go.
The pain was excruciating, but the old man was proud and it took five knives before he signed and sealed the document. The stranger called for the doctor hr had accompanying him on this assignment. Then he was gone as quickly and quietly as he appeared.
The old man fainted from the loss of blood and pain. The doctor just managed to save his life.
Ten miles away in a small chapel, a loving couple awaited the document. When it arrived the man handed it to the priest, who examined it for a moment. The priest really didn't look at it closely. He was more aware of the ten harden men accompanying the couple.
Within the hour and with due ceremony, Patrick Doyle and Hope Martine were married.
Patrick Doyle sat across the desk of Fredrick Isles, freshly married and with all the information that Sir Fredrick needed. True to word, Sir Fredrick Isles passed the smuggler a document signed by Queen Victoria. Doyle examined it and smiled. It was a pardon for him and his men. Sir Fredrick offered, "I'm leaving in two days. You and your men are welcome to accompany us. I will of course have you routed to whatever port you choose."
Doyle offered his hand. He admired a man of his word and Captain Isles was such a man. The Englishman took the Irishman's hand and replied, " We will be ready. I and my bride would like to stay in Swansea for a while."
Sir Fredrick smiled, "Excellent, you can stay on my estate until you find your own home."
It was perfect. Doyle had hoped for the invitation so he could watch his Maura environment. Four weeks later, Doyle was looking for a home in Swansea.
Sir Fredrick was summoned to London to visit the Queen. So, he packed up his family and went to their manor in Notting Hill. He even invited the Doyles, who were more than happy to go and see London. Unlike their first visit, Sir Fredrick was immediately given an audience with the Queen. Actually, he was given two.
The first was a private audience away from the public eye. The Viscount Melbourne, the Prime Minister, Lord John Russell, Home Secretary, Lord Palmerton, the Foreign Secretary and the Duke of Wellington were in attendance. This audience took four hours. Each minister had several questions. Several times during the interview, various generals and admirals would be called to clarify various information. The information was in abundance. Sir Fredrick, not only had Doyle's information, but all the information he collected from various sources, while he was 'doing business'.
Patrick Doyle was called in to give testimony and give first-hand the intelligence, he had gathered. At the end of the interview, the Queen personally thanked the smuggler and granted him a piece of land in County Cork. Doyle was more than pleased.
The Queen personally thanked the sea captain and announced a second more formal audience in two weeks, where Sir Fredrick Isles would be given a barony near Swansea. He would be Lord Isles. Finally, she commanded he continue his 'business enterprises' in France. He had informed the Queen of his various branches, he had opened with very clever people in charge.
The day of the Ceremony was spectacular. His family beamed with pride. Even nineteen month old Maura was excited. She did not understand much of what was going on, but she loved the attention she was getting from the people in attendance.
On October 16, 1840, Sir Fredrick Isles became Lord Isles of Neath. Lady Constance beamed with pride. Though when she looked at Gina holding her daughter, a twinge of remorse overtook her. She was totally in love with the lovely nanny, but could only do so in secret and very privately. Now, her position was even more visible, but the young brunette could do loss this love. She had sacrificed one, two years earlier, she would not do so again.