Passepartout felt as if he had taken on a new employer. The League commander had ordered him to assist the earl. For good measure, he ended up acting as the nobleman's valet. The man didn't seem used to the treatment on such a personal basis. He didn't have a valet in Scotland as Passepartout remembered. After a few attempts to hold him off, the earl accepted his service without complaint. Passepartout saw to all the meals, helped sort the papers, and ran interference with the League commander.
Passepartout lent the earl some of Fogg's clothes. His master's things didn't fit him. Fogg was several inches taller and not as largely muscled. The earl switched back to his own clothes as soon as they were washed.
They reached a deep cove along the shore at midday. Passepartout saw nothing but a wide sandy shoreline, while directly overhead. Once on the ground, he saw a cleft in the rocks not facing the sea that hid an enormous cave being used as a harbor. It was home to two ships. One was a clipper. Once they reached their destination, the Aurora was deflated and towed into a cavern warehouse.
Passepartout and the earl were led to rooms where they were locked in for several days. Passepartout's room joined with the earl's through a light door. Both were very comfortable… too comfortable when comparing this place to the dungeons he had been thrown into the last time he had dealt with the League.
The guards took to calling for him to serve the earl his meals and their needs. It gave him near freedom to roam the base, as far as the walk from the kitchen and supply room to their quarters. Passepartout had tried to go to the main storage area to get to the Aurora, but was caught and led back to his room.
The day the League spoke their intentions, Passepartout was there. It was just as they suspected. The League wanted a courier service to run weapons to and from European ports. The earl would return to Scotland aboard the Mary Kate to make way for the League to take over not only the company but the island itself. His lady would join him shortly before he left. She would remain here as hostage to ensure his actions.
Passepartout didn't want to add to the man's pain, but he told him of their other dealings with the League of Darkness and what he could and couldn't expect of them. One of which was keeping their word about his lady's safety.
"Thank you for your candor," the earl said. "I surmised that myself."
They were alone in his cabin the next evening. The earl paced the room angrily. "This isn't going to happen the way they want. The League commander seems to think merchant companies are run with the same hierarchy and unthinking obedience as his base."
The commander had taken Andrew onto the Mary Kate for most of the day, going over its refit and preparation for sailing. He ordered his people about like slaves and demanded the impossible from Andrew.
"I don't own the fleet. I can't dictate its comings and goings and what it does," Andrew said to Passepartout. The valet was his only friendly company. He was worried sick about his wife and despaired of Phileas Fogg's chances of surviving their capture. With what Passepartout had told him about the League of Darkness, they would have gleefully killed him on sight.
"I steward the fleet, and only that since my marriage." Andrew said. "Mary Kate knows more about it than I do. I can't just go into the port offices and demand they accept the League. Even if I could, I wouldn't. They are planning to take over my home. I would order the entire island to arms before letting them get hold of it."
Then it came down to it; this might lead to just that. Part of what Andrew learned in marriage was how the Glenshires had never given up their old duties as protectors of the island. In relatively peaceful times as this, he had been shocked to find plans to repel port raids and invasions still in place. Andrew had read over it all, fascinated. All he had to do was give the proper word or signal, and the entire island would become an armed fortress. After reading it, he had dismissed it as unnecessary paranoia and laughed.
He wasn't laughing now.
It ate Andrew alive, at what this would mean to Mary Kate. Passepartout did his best to keep up his spirits, but the earl was wasting away. He had stopped eating more than a few bites. He had not slept in days.
When Lady Katharine and Phileas Fogg were brought into the base, Passepartout was ordered to set up a new holding cell. His League officers were upset at his loss, but told him his services to them had ended. "You will move into the cell with Phileas Fogg."
Phileas looked rumpled, but well. Passepartout set down the tray of the last meal he would be allowed to cook and gave him a bear hug, despite the Englishman's embarrassment over such displays. When the guard was gone, they caught each other up on what was happening.
Passepartout's presence was because of the Aurora's capture, which he saw packed up in the warehouse. That meant that Rebecca had no access to his contacts or conveyance.
"I'm sure the Highland Trade fleet will help her." Phileas said.
Phileas was certain they would gleefully do so. What he wasn't sure of was her reception to it. Taking orders from Rebecca was another matter. They might think to commandeer her mission in her reduced circumstances.
They had better not.
Passepartout told Phileas of the League's plans for the earl's home and his intentions. Phileas listened in silence. He had no doubts that the earl knew exactly what he was doing and understood the results of his planned actions. The man was consigning his wife to death as surely as if he signed her death warrant himself.
Phileas needed to get out of this cell. They had to get the woman out of here. He would not let the League kill her any more than the earl would allow them to take their home without a fight.
"Passepartout, you think you could get your old duties back?" Phileas asked. "With even limited freedom of movement, we could come up with an escape plan. Whatever opportunity comes, we must get away from here."