Author's Note: Sorry this is a bit late. Writing has been a bit slow this last week due to RL so I'm not sure yet if there's going to be an update next week, it may depend how much writing I get done in the next few days. This chapter requires trigger warnings for rape and character death.
Chapter 6
The funeral took place on a contrary summer day that was so changeable most of the mourners were in turns too hot, too cold and too wet. General Pearce stood with his son and daughter in the front pew of Jane's local church with Malcolm, thankfully, overseeing the proceedings and while they went through the familiar rituals of the Anglican funeral rites, Ruth Evershed was on her way to the palace, dressed in the most scholarly manner that her rather limited wardrobe would allow. Clutched in her hand was a letter from a Knight of the Realm and one of the Prince Regent's most trusted Generals.
Arriving at the Palace everything felt very grand. The footmen, the livery, the horses. Everywhere there was gold leaf and light, rococo scrolls and fine sculptures and painted porcelain. She wondered how he could afford it with the level of debt the Prince Regent was said to have incurred through his lifestyle. Then again, there the rumoured increased in his allowance from Parliament might cover it – if only life was so simple for the rest, Ruth thought!
Upon arrival at the Palace she had presented the letter which seemed to have been taken extremely seriously. As a lonely spinster, Miss Evershed had half expected to be laughed out onto the street because in spite of the import of the situation, she wasn't entirely sure she would be believed Instead, she found herself escorted by a soldier through a series of rooms, passing great portraits by Masters like Rembrandt and Sir Anthony van Dyck. Ruth's head continued to watch each painting as she moved along behind her escort before whipping to the next in wonder.
Eventually they stopped outside a pair of great doors which were opened by waiting footmen in the same household livery.
"This is the Music Room, Miss Evershed," The soldier announced, "It is requested you wait here. I understand His Royal Highness will be here presently. I shall be right outside the door should you need anything."
Ruth Evershed nodded and curtseyed but as soon as the door closed her gaze was entirely captured by the magnificent spread of garden outside the window. Her eyes took in the mature trees, the rose beds, the expanse of lawn. She was quite away with the fairies when the noise of the door opening startled her and she spun around to find an older gentleman with grey-white hair and a dignified bearing enter the room.
"My Lord of Liverpool?"
"Miss Evershed. I cannot tell you how relieved I was to hear it was you that General Pearce had engaged to assist him. I cannot tell you how impressed I was with everything you contributed every time I met with your father. Please accept my condolences for his death, it was a great loss."
Ruth struggled to get her mind around the unexpected appearance of the man before her. Of course it made sense that Lord Liverpool, as the Prime Minister, might be aware of events but to be met with him personally as well as the Prince Regent, if His Royal Highness indeed arrived, was a shock to get her mind around and it was difficult for a long time to form any comprehensible words. "I had not expected...General Pearce led me to expect the Prince Regent..."
"The Prince will no doubt be here anon. When I heard, however, that it was the smartest woman I ever set eyes upon who was assisting Pearce as you once did your father I wanted to be here. Quite apart from everything else, Miss Evershed, The Prince Regent needs guidance and while of course there is of course the security of the Regency to consider there are also important matters of Government at stake here. Matters of which, doubtless, even you are not aware."
"Doubtless," Miss Evershed echoed, "Tell me my Lord, why is it that as soon as Napoleon is dealt with, almost every officer I know is suddenly on edge instead of rejoicing at our victory."
"Because there is no victory, Miss Evershed. If only we truly lived in a time when war was at an end once the leaders were removed. Alas, great empires do not sleep so easily. France is on the brink of declaring war again in spite of Napoleon's exile. Elba is not as far as we would like it to be and it is imperative he stays were he is until our plans can come to fruition. There are few we can trust on the matter, it was very clever of Pearce to consider engaging a woman. I commend him."
"Plans? The General is engaged in counter-espionage, is he not?"
"Indeed but you yourself have always possessed a mind most remarkably suited to these endeavours, Miss Evershed. I met with your father often enough to know much of your abilities in this respect. You must understand, with the war now over we suddenly have a huge military at the ready and battle-trained here in Europe, we have the most efficient and effective naval fleet in the world and we an ocean between us and possibly the greatest territory our empire ever held. Since the events of 1812 we have been held back in our attempts to limit American expansion by the need to fight on the Iberian Peninsula. Now, finally, we are in a position to achieve our objective of regaining the Americas."
A sudden rush of cold came over Ruth. They couldn't be serious. She had known this was about America but what Lord Liverpool was alluding to was beyond her wildest, most terrible dreams.
"My Lord, Prime Minister, America is an independent country now," Ruth said, hardly able to believe what she had just heard. No wonder General Pearce was so alarmed about any doubt as to the allegiance of the one they hunted.
"And now we have the military capability once more to regain what is rightfully ours. The war which began in 1812 can be ended now, with victory in our grasp. There are separate plans afoot to treat with the United States later in the year and the military action over the summer, if successful, will give us a much greater bargaining power at the negotiations. Ghent has been proposed as a possible neutral site but whatever the outcome, an American spy in London at this point would be disastrous. Nothing can be allowed to leak before the invasion."
"Invasion?"
"It is, typically, how one regains another continent Madam. It is a four-pronged attack: New York, New England, New Orleans and up the Mississippi and finally the main force which shall be landed at Chesapeake Bay to launch a direct attack on Washington D.C. itself. If we can capture the Capitol the war will be over in a matter of months. You can imagine the reaction, therefore, when Pearce revealed at our last meeting that you believed our local leak was American instead of French."
Ruth sat down sharply. "Good God!"
"Quite," the Prime Minister replied and clasped his hands behind his back.
"When is the invasion to happen?"
"As soon as may be, Miss Evershed, therefore I can only suppose that Pearce has sent you with more information. Any update you can provide for His Majesty's Government is desired most urgently and were it not for the absence of the Prince Regent who insists on being kept up to date with all matters..." The Prime Minister cut himself off as the door began to open, the footman made the announcement and in walked the Prince Regent.
Afterwards, Miss Evershed found she could not have been more grateful for her father's distance acquaintance in former years with the current Prime Minister. Lord Liverpool had saved Ruth from many an inappropriate comment by the Prince Regent and ensured that she was personally escorted home in his own carriage, unaware of the dark figure hiding in the trees across the street watching her every move.
Some distance away across London, Lance-Corporal Daniel Hunter sat in the gloomiest corner of a dockside tavern listening in on the hushed conversation that was happening at the next table. One of the men was a rough sort, an ex-sailor perhaps from his bearing and clothing. The other a more educated, refined, better sort who seemed to be in charge.
"Nah, she's his mistress, I'm sure of it," the rough one informed.
"Pearce? You're sure?"
"Absolutely...she been visiting his offices and half o' London seen 'em at balls all cosied up like two love birds an' she got 'er own house an' everyfink."
"Well we've known for some time that he's the one they've tasked with the job. A spinster you say?"
"Mmmm. Admiral's daughter. Smart one, hooking a man like Pearce. Course her being so close, my guess is she knows somefink and even she don't, which she do..."
"She's the leverage," The balding white man smiled darkly.
"Precisely. Course, don't know what she was doing at the palace."
The educated one's whole demeanour changed, he sat up sharply, his eyebrows drew together and then he leaned in and lowered his voice. "The Palace?"
"I just followed her there just just now before meeting you. Stayed an hour then went home in some fancy carriage."
"Dammit, Pearce must be closer than we thought."
"Closer to what?" The rough one asked.
"Never you mind." A purse of coins was brought out and laid on the table. "Thank you for your time, Sir. That will be all. Our business is concluded."
"You said I was following 'er til the end o' the monf," The rough one grumbled. "I needs the pay o' that, Sir."
"Your pay in full," The educated one handed over the purse which the rougher man weighed in his hand before finally nodding.
"Alright," He agreed. "An' if there's anyfink else you need...?"
"You will be the first to know," The educated one assured him and then stood up and took his leave of the man.
Danny wanted to go straight to General Pearce and warn him that Ruth was in danger. He didn't know the full story of what Sir Harry was up to but he did know that there was concern about foreign spies being active in London and much of the talk on the street and in the coffee houses was a new concentration on the conflict with the United States now that the military was no longer need on the Peninsula. Danny had been trying to work it all out, to put all the pieces together. He knew that the United States was neutral in the war between Britain and France, that the United States was pro-slavery and France was anti-slavery, that the United States and France had been trading throughout the war with Napoleon, much to Britain's consternation. He knew that Britain had been at war with both countries, that a new conflict had started in 1812 over territory and other things, knew that the United States was unhappy about ships flying their flags being captured by British privateers. He also knew that there was a lot of unemployed men flooding into London as a result of the end of the war and that merchants, investors and others were concerned about the political and economic uncertainty of peace after decades of conflict. There were so many different interests it was difficult to work out what the full picture was. All along he'd been told to watch out for French espionage and yet increasingly the Government and the Military seemed to be focused on the United States. It was all as clear as mud. Yet one thing stuck in his mind – the purse of money. The slimey white man who was clearly the more senior of the two had paid off the man Danny had been following, the man who had been tasked with watching Miss Evershed. In Danny's experience that meant only one thing...
Waiting until the two men parted ways, Danny downed the rest of his drink and followed the more educated – and he guess more senior – figure out of the tavern and onto the street. He had been planning on attending a meeting of the Sons of Africa that evening but it looked at the moment as if the events of the afternoon were going to overtake his plans. He needed to know what this man was up to and how much he knew.
Outside it was already getting dark. The docks and the whole area around it stank of raw sewage, urine, vomit and animal faeces. Goods of every sort were being loaded and unloaded, moved around on carts. Coffee and tea, animals and plants, tropical hard woods and every sort and type of thing one could imagine surrounded him but Daniel Hunter's eyes were not on the people and things around him, they concentrated on the figure about some thirty yards ahead who weaved his way through the crowds and alleyways of the area until he arrived at a main street from where he was able to flag down a hackney cab. Danny had a bit more trouble flagging down a cab himself. It took the assurance of a flash of the cash to get the driver to agree to take him as a passenger and follow the cab that was now rounding the corner at the other end of the street.
The route taken was roundabout, unnecessarily complicated and the man switched cabs twice before finally dismounting a ten minute walk away from his final destination, a nondescript lower-middle-class street of modest dwellings with which Daniel was all too familiar. He had an extensive knowledge of his father's properties and as it grew dark, Daniel stood on the street corner in shock as the man he had listened to in the tavern disappeared into the very house on the street that happened to be owned by his own father, Lord Hunter.
The shock was all-consuming. His own father? Could it be? Daniel had long known that his father held views that he himself opposed. His father supported slavery, for one and here in London, Lord Hunter held a large number of properties that he managed with a malice and avarice that was significantly detrimental to the poor tenants who were unfortunate enough to occupy them. However this property, Danny was aware, was one that his father kept for illicit liaisons and meetings that he wished to keep quiet. Private audiences with people that Lord Hunter did not wish to have seen arriving at his own, rather grand, London residence. The thought that his father might be paying men to spy on General Pearce was something Danny struggled to get his head around. He thought of General Pearce's warning that evidence suggested the man they were looking for was not spying for the French, as originally thought, but for the Americans.
After the slave trade had been banned in 1807, Lord Hunter had largely removed himself from the merchant shipping business and instead purchased vast estates in the United States that exported cotton to the mills in the North of England and all of this in addition to the slave-run sugar plantations in the Caribbean. His transatlantic trading interests had taken a huge blow financially when the slave trade had been abolished and Lord Hunter had instead decided to invest more heavily in the United States which may now, also, be under threat. His influence there was growing and the profitability of his landholdings there depended on the very fact that the United States was a pro-slavery independent country that would not challenge his private interests. Yet Lord Hunter had always been loyal to Britain, using his own power and influence with Parliament and the Government to further his own business interests. Yet peace had not been in his interest and the current government was a Conservative one instead of the Whig government his father would have favoured. Besides which, his ruthless style of business in recent years had isolated many former friends on Threadneedle Street.
A cold feeling came over Danny and in the next moment he pushed himself off the wall and ran, his heart thumping and blind panic filling his senses. His mind whirled faster than he could keep up with as he tried to grasp the prospect of his father's behaviour. He didn't have the whole picture but the pieces that were coming together were unthinkable and it was with a terrible feeling of dread that Danny waved down a cab and ordered it to go straight to General Pearce's current residence.
The funeral had been a sombre affair. Quiet and small, attended by a small group of select family and friends. Miss Reynolds had been good enough to show up, chaperoned by her guardian. The funeral furnishers had done an admirable job, Malcolm had been as steady and reassuring as Sir Harry had needed him to be and the small gathering of men at the graveside saw to it that she was laid to rest in the proper manner. Afterwards the funeral breakfast went on long enough for everyone to get a moment to share their condolences and let their coats dry out from the earlier rain.
When everyone finally departed for the day, Graham was flat out on a love seat in the drawing room, Catherine was sitting quietly tinkling away at the piano and Sir Harry sat back with a glass of strong whiskey and took his necktie off as he listened to her play. With many hours to kill indoors Catherine had become really quite good and when she finished he looked over at her from where he sat and told her it was lovely.
"Thank you, father."
"I used to like it when you called me Papa."
"That was before," Catherine said simply.
"Ah, yes. Before I distanced myself, before I divorced your mother, before she died birthing another man's child. Before you saw her through her confinement...I suppose there is a lot of 'before' there."
Catherine listened to him say his piece and then turned back to play once more. She got three notes in before Sir Harry interrupted.
"I owe you an apology, Catherine."
She stopped and stared at the music. Neither of them liked this sort of conversation. Quite honestly, part of her simply didn't want to hear it but another part was curious enough to wonder what he was about to say.
"My disputes with your mother, god rest her soul, and the difficulties in our private lives – not to mention behaviour on both our parts which does neither of us any credit..." Sir Harry paused and stared at his tumbler of spirit. "What I am trying to say to you is that I haven't been the father to you that you deserved and I intend for that to change, going forwards, and starting right now."
The crashing sound of someone charging through the doors at great speed interrupted their quiet discussion and the awkwardness of the moment was immediately replaced with alarm as Lance-Corporal Hunter almost fell through the doors in his haste to report to the General.
"Hunter?"
"General, you must come at once. Miss Evershed is in danger. I was following a man that I knew undertook casual work around the docks. He met with his paymaster in a tavern whereupon he was paid off. General, they knew of her connection to you, they knew she had been to the Palace!"
Sir Harry jumped up at once and stormed out into the hall. "You there! Fetch me my sword and my boots! You!" He pointed at a hall boy, "Run to the stable and saddle my horse."
"Hunter?"
"I got a cab."
"And one for Hunter too," Sir Harry shouted after the boy. Immediately he went in the opposite direction towards the front door of the house, telling another male servant to lock up the house after him, to have the male servants armed and his family protected. Within minutes they were galloping out the gate, the metal shoes on the horses hooves sending sparks out across the granite cobbles of the street as they charged at full tilt in the direction of Ruth's home, hoping against hope that they were not yet too late.
Across town Ruth Evershed, however, remained in blissful ignorance of the remarkable events of the evening and found that after such an important meeting and with such a lot to take in, she was glad of a rare night in to herself with no obligations to anyone else. The beautiful music of the concert she had enjoyed with Colonel Carter still lingered in her head and she found herself humming the main theme as she sat down in the drawing room with a small glass of sweet wine that was left over from dinner and let her thoughts wander off as she sipped away at her drinking, finally giving herself the time that she needed to process the events of the day.
She had been to the Palace.
She had met the Prime Minister.
Great Britain was secretly invading the United States of America. Even as she sat here ships were approaching that continent's shores with the full intention of engaging in military action. Knowing what she did about strategy Ruth had to wonder about the wisdom of such a campaign, for while it was true that they might initially gain some ground, it had to be said that in the long run the United States had the home advantage and General Pearce for one certainly believed that the threat from Boneparte was not over.
But such thoughts were giving her a headache and so Miss Evershed resolved to think of happier things. Her pet cat, Fidget, appeared then from the kitchen and jumped up onto her lap. In spite of the inevitability of getting cat hair on her gown she let the furry bundle climb over her and settle on her knee while Ruth wondered if Sir Harry liked cats or if he perhaps preferred dogs. Her mind thought of the sharp tailored lines of the new uniform he had been wearing at the concert. Of the sombre tones of the dark mourning clothes. His soft eyes, his plush lips.
The way Sir Harry had stared at her as he proposed to her.
Ruth slammed the glass down and stood up sharply. This was going nowhere.
The noise must have wakened Beth for Ruth heard a noise in the kitchen and half expected her maid to come running in any moment to check that everything was alright. As the noises grew louder however, Ruth grew concerned until there was a great crash likes a pile of pots and pans falling and a terrible pained cry. At once Ruth picked up her skirts and dashed out of the drawing room, hastening to the kitchen where she threw open the door and came to a standstill at the sight of a bloodied cutlass pointing straight at her.
"Scream and I'll make it slow," The man warned her. A sailor, or an ex-sailor. Ruth supposed there were many of them unemployed now. He was smelly and unwashed, dark lank hair and nondescript worn clothes with features that were instantly forgettable. Even staring him in the face Ruth wasn't sure she would pick him out in a crowd.
"Beth?"
"Your maid is dead, Evershed."
Ruth gasped and a hand fled to her mouth as she caught sight of a flash of blonde hair and a growing pool of blood on the floor.
"Come quietly, now, and you won't end up like her."
Beyond the man, his henchmen were already undoing their trousers, cackling with glee at the prospect of defiling Beth's still-warm body. Ruth opened her mouth to object but the sharpened look in her assailant's eye and the rapid approach of the tip of the blade made her reconsider her choice.
"I'll come quietly," Ruth told them. The stain on her conscience as she walked out on three men preparing to take turns on Beth's lifeless body would stay with her forever.
"Great," The man announced. "Best leave them to it. Even cold cunt's a blessing after six months at sea. Nothing but cabin boys arses to keep yer 'appy."
The man grabbed her by the arm and Ruth Evershed felt physically repulsed by his touch, but what could she do? 'Survive' a little voice told her. She needed to survive, she needed to get some sort of help.
"Now, while they're all busy. You and I are going for a little ride," The man grinned a stinking gap-toothed grin.
It was said the Royal Navy ran on rum, sodomy and the lash but Ruth could only surmise that whatever ships this man sailed on had been run rather differently that the ships her father oversaw. Yet she had no more time to think about which aspect of the man abducting her concerned her most. Without so much as a shawl to stay warm Ruth was manhandled out the front door and onto the street where a half-starved pony hitched up to a decrepit trap waited some distance down the street. The man was dragging her now and seeing her chance, Ruth began resisting. It was dark but not late. Someone might see. One of the neighbours. She struggled, shouting for him to let go.
The man gripped her harder, pulling her towards the starving animal.
"Come on you dozy cow! Don't make me hit you, you fucking..."
"No! HELP! STOP!"
Suddenly, far off, the sound of rapid hoofs sounded faintly and getting louder. Getting closer. Ruth's abductor seemed to get desperate, grabbing her and trying to wrestle her into submission.
Looking around frantically, the realisation of what had happened to Beth all of a sudden hit her full force and she cried and begged and screamed to be let go.
And then they were there. Hoof beats sparking off the cobbles, red coats and swords. General Pearce in full-throated blood-lust charged down the street drawing his sword and sliced the man clean in two.
For Harry, the sight of Miss Evershed in so much danger incited a tsunami of red-mist the likes of which he had not experienced since leaving battle. Across the way, Lance-Corporal Hunter pulled up to a halt at Ruth's door, jumped off the horse and ran in on his own, sword at the ready. The sound of steel on steel, the cries of men being cut down drifted out onto the street but Harry had eyes only for Ruth. Seeing the immediate danger gone, Harry dismounted his horse and sheathed his sword as he tentatively approached her. The thrum of adrenaline was fading now and concern for her welfare slammed to the fore. Ruth's face was pale, spattered with blood, she stuttered unable to speak. Her hands shook.
Quietly, gently, Sir Harry put a hand on her shoulder. "He's gone."
"You..."
"I killed him."
Ruth nodded but still seemed completely overwhelmed by the moment and buried her face in her hands. Sir Harry could not help but notice she was outside without any sort of shawl or spencer and the clear night sky was depleting all the warmth of the day as the temperature rapidly dropped. At once he unbuttoned his uniform jacket and draped it around her shoulders and she gathered it around herself, snuggling into its warmth.
Sir Harry didn't want to leave her, but he needed to check how Lance-Corporal Hunter was getting on in the house. Tentatively he put a hand on her back, just enough to guide her in the direction of the property and stopped outside the neighbouring property – close enough that he felt he could protect her but not so close that she would be in danger. Carefully he took the reigns of his horse and placed them in her grip. He could tell she was in shock and apart from not wanting the gelding to run away, Sir Harry felt – apparently correctly – that it would give Ruth something to focus on. As soon as she held the reigns in her hand Miss Evershed gravitated towards the horse, petting it and taking comfort from its presence.
"Miss Evershed, I'm going to go inside for a moment. If you feel even for a moment you're in danger take my horse and ride as hard as you can to seek help."
Miss Evershed nodded. She opened her mouth to try to speak but couldn't seem to get her mind and her body to act as one.
"Its the shock," Sir Harry explained. "I promise, I'll be right back." He wanted to stay, stay and look after her, but Danny had charged in all on his own and now all was quiet. General Pearce had a duty as the superior officer to assess the situation and find out what had gone on. He entered the house with his sword drawn, finding the drawing room empty and after checking the cupboard under the stairs he progressed towards the kitchen at the back of the ground floor.
The scene that met him was a bloody one. The kitchen looked as horrific as any domestic kitchen had ever looked. The ragged remains of the maid's clothing lay scattered around her defiled body. Three men lay in various states of death or dying, their swords on the floor. One was nude from the waist down, his genitals cut off while Hunter stood over him watching the light fade from his eye.
Once all the bodies had stopped moving, the General spoke. "Stand down, Hunter," Sir Harry pronounced quietly.
"He deserved it."
"Lower your sword," Sir Harry said firmly. There was a certain manner in which men had to be dealt with after battle. "The threat is gone."
After a long tense moment, Lance-Corporal Hunter did indeed lower his sword and then took a moment to look about the room before sheathing it in its scabbard.
"General Pearce," Hunter addressed his superior, "Are we invading America?"
"Where did you hear that?"
"The taverns by the docks. The man I followed tonight, the man who was talking of Miss Evershed, I followed him to a property my father uses for illicit meetings. His estates in the United States of America are extensive. He invested a lot of money in cotton after the slave trade was banned. His property in Louisiana is particularly extensive."
"Dear God." General Pearce rubbed his forehead vigorously. The thought of such a prominent man turning on his own country was unthinkable. "Lord Hunter? Danny are you sure?"
Danny shrugged, "It makes sense. He must have known that an end to the war on the continent would mean military resources being freed up to fight the Americans. The flags provision dented his shipping profits and then the ban on the trading of human slaves put paid to that enterprise altogether, so he made investments instead in the United States. Now the peace threatens his landholdings and property there."
"And if we restarted the war with the French our forces across the Atlantic would have to pull back. The question is, who is he working for? The French or the US?"
"My father works for himself, General Pearce, but there is little he will not do for money."
"And yet, you rely on this money," Sir Harry pointed out.
"To my shame," Lance-Corporal Hunter agreed. "Until this point I have and yet, as the son of a slave how long can I go on living off his wealth knowing from where it comes?"
"Well there's nothing more we can do tonight."
Danny opened his mouth to counter but Sir Harry cut across his imminent objection. "We have no evidence against him that will stand up in a court of law, Lance-Corporal. I'm relying on you, Danny. Now more than ever. Are you with me on this?"
At length, Danny nodded. "If not for myself, for Miss Reynolds."
"Good." General Pearce turned his back on his room and began walking slowly toward the front door where their horses waited. "Now, I need you to go to William Towers. Tell him everything that has gone one here, insist that he sees you. He will sort it all out. Spend the night at the barracks and commence work as normal in the morning. I will need to get the house keys from Miss Evershed and take her to a place of safety. Tell General Towers I will return at midnight with the keys once Miss Evershed is settled and ask him to send men. We must get the house here cleaned up tonight."
They had by this point reached the front door of the house which General Pearce opened, allowing Danny to exit, and then followed suit closing the door behind him. Danny waited for his commanding officer and then when he had given his salute to his greatest mentor, Danny Hunter dashed down the step, mounted his horse and rode off into the night.
Outside Miss Evershed was exactly where Sir Harry had left her, clearly getting to the stage where she needed to sit down and have a strong glass of brandy. He sat her down on the step and after speaking to her in soft, gentle voices was able to ascertain that the keys were always carried by the maid and it was Harry's grim task to go and fetch them. Reluctantly, Sir Harry realised he really ought to follow protocol in ensuring the building was clear of all people and threats before locking it and so somewhat reluctantly, Sir Harry found himself going upstairs and entering the rooms one by one to ensure no one was there. The last room was her bedroom and he paused, glancing briefly around. He wondered idly if he should collect a few of her things but he considered it too great a breach of her privacy and at length Sir Harry concluded that anything further Ruth required, he could fetch when he returned with at midnight to clean the place up.
Sir Harry stepped out of the room and closed the door. Everything seemed to be in order and so he began locking the place up before heading outside and straight to Miss Evershed.
"Miss Evershed, you can't stay here tonight. Might I suggest that I accompany you to Colonel Carter's residence?"
General Pearce could only stare at the small feminine hand that appeared on his forearm. Dressed as she was in his coat, with her hair falling down and her eyes stressed and tearful, Sir Harry concluded she had never looked more beautiful; he had never loved her more than in this moment.
"Let me stay with you, Sir Harry. I know it isn't proper but I wouldn't feel safe with anyone else."
Using his forename was surely something she knew would make him bend to her will, but even had Miss Evershed not done so, it was clear to General Pearce that Miss Evershed was not about to let this thought go and as he thought on the problem he felt his heart slowly give way and a plan carefully began to form. He could, he supposed, take her to his lodgings if he wasn't spending the night there. His landlady could look after her and she would be safe enough there while he cleared things up with the necessary Generals and government ministers.
General Pearce left her only long enough to check over his horse before mounting the gelding and pulling Miss Evershed up so she was seated sideways in front of him. Her arms wound around his neck and the hand that was not holding the reins held her fast at the waist, ensuring that she did not fall off. The fact that she apparently trusted him as she had never done before warmed his heart and the feel of her body against his, holding her so close in his arms felt more right than he had the words to express. Yet whatever pleasure he derived from the physical proximity of the woman who now – so unexpectedly - held his heart, General Pearce could only think of her welfare and his most earnest wish that this progression in their relationship towards a previously uncountenanced physicality had occurred under rather less taxing circumstances.
On Ruth's part, a voice in her mind could not help but warn her that she was being pathetic, but unable to walk from the shock of the events she had just witnessed and struggling to hold back her tears at such a deliberate and targeted attack, Miss Ruth Evershed took comfort in the only thing that made any sense in that moment – the man who had come to her rescue. In an uncharacteristic bout of selfishness she let herself be held and take comfort in his presence. The rest of it, Ruth would worry about later.
Unfortunately for both Ruth and the General, it wasn't long before it began to rain. Upon reaching the building where his rooms were located, both were soaked to the skin. It was an area where many military men lodged and they were, by the rule, early to bed and early to rise. By this point Miss Evershed was all but falling asleep in his arms, the fear and excitement of earlier in the evening leaving her body exhausted. Sir Harry took matters into his own hands, therefore, and with a grimace at the pain in his knees slid off the horse and took Ruth in his arms. His landlady, having spotted him upon his arrival dashed to open the door and followed him, hard upon his heels as Sir Harry guided Ruth up the stairs and straight into his rooms.
"General Pearce! What on earth have you done to this poor woman?"
"Mrs James, you must excuse me. This lady is Miss Evershed, daughter and heir of the late Admiral Evershed," He stared pointedly at his landlady who could only raise her eyebrows. She had known the man by reputation, of course. "Miss Evershed had her property broken into tonight and she was witness to a most gruesome act of violence. Her maid was killed and violated and Miss Evershed herself narrowly avoided being abducted by armed men. Had I not arrived when I did..."
"Lay her on the bed, she must rest. Fetch a blanket, I'll bring her some hot, sweet tea and some brandy."
"Thank you," Sir Harry did as bid, ushering her gently towards his bed in the back room and encouraging her to lift up her legs and lay back. He was fussing, he knew he was fussing, but he piled up pillows behind her and shook out an extra blanket that lay folded at the foot of the bed to give her some warmth. One often felt the cold profoundly after receiving a shock.
A tired head tried to lift itself up to look at him, "General?"
"Hush now. Rest. You are in my quarters. My landlady is called Mrs Connie James. She will look after you."
"Beth?"
Sir Harry's face said everything that Ruth need to know, "I'm sorry," He murmured. "Miss Evershed, I must return immediately to clean up your property and have arrangements made about the body."
"Of course," Ruth agreed, but she sounded rather shaken and, dare he say it, vulnerable in a way that made him quite uncertain about leaving her alone after all. Yet needs must.
"You'll be quite safe here, I promise," The General told her, "And if ever you do feel in danger there is a set of pistols under the bed. I presume you know how to use them?"
Ruth nodded. When she squeezed his hand, Harry was reluctant to let it go but the sooner he left the sooner he would get back and there was much to be done. Standing up, he let their fingers linger for as long as he might before turning and sweeping out of the room.
A moment later he swept back in, grabbed a fresh shirt and necktie from the closet and swept out again, muttering his apologies.
Ruth almost giggled in a bout of hysteria at the absurdity of it, but every bone in her body suddenly seemed weary and there was nothing she wanted to do more than rest. Unfortunately for Miss Evershed, she had been left in the care of Mrs James who it seemed was one of those quite assertive older women with whom one did not argue. As soon as the General's footsteps faded out of earshot Mrs James was up, tossing off the blanket and muttering something about wet clothes and stupid men.
"As if you can possibly rest while soaked to the skin. No, those must come off immediately."
"Mrs James, I really think I'll be fine."
"Oh you do, do you? Something tells me you'll still be telling me that when you catch your death of cold. No, the clothes must come off. You can borrow something of Sir Harry's. I dare say he has enough shirts to loan you one until your clothes dry and while we're on the subject, you're leaving wet patches on the bed. Let me stoke up the fire and then we'll find something comfortable for you to wear.
After she had stoked up the fire and helped Ruth out of her wet clothes, Ruth discovered that 'something comfortable' consisted of a pair of General Pearce's breaches and a shirt that was many sizes too large. Mrs James had to roll the sleeves up to the elbow and even tucked in at the waist it was still much too large. Still, it was warm and dry and after Mrs James had arranged Ruth's clothes in front of the fire she fetched a bowl of warm soup and laid out a place at the round dining table located in the corner between the window and the fireplace. Under Mrs James's severest gaze, Ruth forced herself to work through the meal. By the time she had finished eating, somehow the exhaustion of it all was catching up with her and she was all but falling asleep by the time Mrs James cleared it away. Fighting sleep, Ruth stumbled across to the inviting looking four-poster on the far side of the room and collapsed asleep.