Sat, May 19 2012
The next day, the Prussian plan to set up a new spy network extending through Scotland to London had been fully exposed and destroyed. They had found all nine surviving Prussian spies by nightfall. The other’s not directly involved in the interrogation of the Earl or Rebecca’s capture had tried to make a stand in the caverns. One round of artillery fire from Fogg’s small canon into the main cavern had changed their minds about that. After the dust settled, they had willingly come out to surrender.
Phileas had had to preside over the clean up. During his interrogation of General Marbork and his agents, it had been learned that the old soldier had been moved into espionage work with the reshuffling of Prussia’s upper ranks. He had been the one to plan out and set up the operation. Using English contacts he had made due to having English relatives, and his supposed retirement from the Prussian army, he had been courting the powerful and loose-tongued for nearly a year.
Rebecca’s dead attacker, Eric Von Bressler, had been one of Von Kessler’s own, sent to see that the General had everything he needed, including mole agents to help gather information. It had been a brilliant plan. Phileas shuddered to think what damage it could have done to England’s internal security if allowed to become fully operational.
The Earl of Kintore had been very badly wounded in the adventure. The shot wound had been bad enough on its own, but getting pummeled as well complicated his injuries. Thankfully, the bullet had missed his heart and lung. After being brought back home and enduring the removal of the bullet and the setting of his broken collarbone and ribs, he was declared recoverable, in time.
Rebecca’s injury had not been as severe or life threatening, but had also required the surgeon’s skill. Her recovery would keep her on bed rest for at least two weeks. The Scottish doctor who had come to treat both injured parties had so dictated, and Phileas had promised that he would see that his cousin followed the order.
In the following days, Jules and Phileas helped take care of the sick. Rebecca was more coherent than the Earl, so keeping her in bed and entertained was their main duty. Several days into their bed watch, Jules was walking down the long hall leading to Rebecca’s room with a tray. When last he had been with her, she had been playing chess with Phileas. He assumed that the game was still on as he had not seen Fogg since then. As he came near the door, he heard the cousins talking.
“Come Phileas,” he heard Rebecca insist. “You expect me to believe that you just happened here and found me in distress? I know better than believe that. Again, why did you follow me here?”
“I came because Chatsworth wanted the Aurora made available to you,” Phileas lied. “I had just returned with Verne and was sent here straight away. “The story I told the servants here about coming to visit you was just a plausible rouse. So there is no need to take tone with me. At any rate, it was well that I did come. You would have been washed out to sea never to be seen again had I not!”
“True,” Rebecca agreed in a lower voice. “Don’t think me ungrateful Phileas. It just seemed like a strange coincidence. I am very thankful you were there. Don’t doubt it.” A silence descended on the two, giving Jules a moment to enter the room, and not look as though he had been eavesdropping.
“Ah, and here is your dinner,” Phileas said more cheerfully, making way for the tray. They settled Rebecca down to her meal and then left the room together.
Later that evening, after they had retired to the Earl’s spacious parlor after their own dinner for drinks, Jules questioned Fogg’s not telling Rebecca the truth.
“Eavesdropping is a poor habit Verne,” Fogg warned sternly.
“Perhaps, but she will likely ask me the same question in time,” Jules reminded him.
Phileas didn’t doubt it. He stared into the fire for several moments gathering his thoughts before answering. “Jules, Rebecca doesn’t know about my dreams,” he said quietly. “I would prefer she remain unaware of them. Actually, I would prefer no one knew about them; but Passepartout knows and now you do.”
“I’m sure Rebecca would be understanding,” Jules offered. He was speaking from experience. Rebecca had never been standoffish toward him because of his visions. As such, he had every expectation that she would be just as supportive of her cousin.
“That is not the point Jules,” Phileas retorted. “The point is that Rebecca is an independent woman who has made her way in what is mostly a man’s profession. I doubt I need to tell you how difficult that was. Your imagination I’m sure is up to the task. She did it by being better than her fellows at most every aspect of her duties and by being . . . singularly heedless of danger.”
“I have not always supported Rebecca’s choice in becoming part of the service,” he confessed. “I would honestly have preferred that she had not. Father instigated that and arranged for most of her training while I was out of the country. When I returned, I found her a full agent and . . . didn’t take it well. For a time, I tried to shield her from dangerous missions by using my senior position to assign those duties to others, or myself. And she rightly resented it.”
“In time, I did finally accept that it had been her choice and helped to train her further,” Phileas continued. “But she still remembers those early days, and still becomes agitated if she thinks I’m trying to protect her. So now I offer her my aid and protection only at her request, and sometimes covertly. Should she know of my occasional dreams of her being in danger . . . she would not take it well.” And that, Phileas thought privately, was a horrendous understatement.
After long consideration of the matter, Phileas had come to believe that, should Rebecca ever found out about his dreams, she would react in one of two ways. She would either cut herself off from him completely to sever whatever link there was that caused those dreams, or she might quit the service to end his suffering with them. Either possible reaction would undoubtedly create a rift in their relationship that Phileas didn’t want to suffer. Rebecca was more than just his cousin. She was his last close living relative . . . and his light.
Jules was not slow. He caught the phrasing of that last sentence. Occasional dreams? Meaning this wasn’t the first.
Jules was also not short of memory. He had been witness to sharp-tongued jabs at his friend from Rebecca over his caution and protectiveness, and a few outright verbal battles between the cousins over his supposed over cautiousness or her lack of caution. So no, Jules thought, fully considering what Fogg was telling him. Rebecca might not take her cousin’s sixth sense concerning her well-being in a good light. And if she were that sensitive to that sort of thing, then perhaps she wouldn’t care to know about his foresight in this instance either.
“So we keep this to ourselves?” Jules finally said after a long silence.
“Exactly,” Phileas said firmly. “Should you ever have such visions again, I would like to know of them, but don’t let Rebecca know. It would upset her that you were discomforted so on her account.”
“If I do I will tell you,” Jules promised. “And what of you?
Phileas gave his friend a small smile in acceptance of his concern, but dismissed any need. “I will continue as I have,” he said simply. “I will be there for her when she wishes it and will respect her choices.”
Upstairs, Rebecca had finished her dinner and was mulling over choices. To help decide, she slipped out of bed, donned a robe as well as she could with one arm and crossed the house to the lord’s chambers. She had already been to see the Earl since their return from the caves, but never had they been given any privacy.
Peaking into the room, she found it empty accept for the Earl. He had recovered enough not to need a night watch, it seemed. Slowly, she entered and moved toward his bed where he lay sleeping. ‘Lord, even injured and sleeping he looked gorgeous,’ Rebecca thought shaking her head. But there were other things she admired in the man. His strength and character were top drawer, as was his respectful demeanor toward her. Few men had been so willing to see her side of the matter . . . to see that she loved her work for the crown.
The Earl wasn’t as deeply asleep as Rebecca thought. He knew when she entered the room and when she approached his bed. He opened his eyes and smiled up at her. “We make quite a pair don’t we,” he said chuckling, “Both lame ducks.” He patted the bed beside himself, requesting that she sit. Rebecca complied.
“Do I dare hope this late night visit means you forgive me for leaving you in the lurch?” He queried. “Getting my head bashed in that last scuffle put you at a severe disadvantage. I should have taught you the tunnels.”
“We didn’t have the time for me to learn all those twists and turns,” she said dismissing his regrets, “and we had no idea until the last moment that they intended to use that particular cave for a base. As it was, I had to leave the path to keep that Prussian away from me as long as I did. And getting bopped in the head and shot is sometimes unavoidable in this business. Think nothing of it.”
“And stabbed? Occupational hazards, yes. I suppose,” he accepted. “And now it is over and the danger is past. No looking back or dwelling on it allowed?”
“Looking back is all right as long as one does it to learn from the experience, but dwelling on mistakes or bad luck isn’t recommended,” Rebecca said seriously.
“For the best I suppose,” Andrew agreed tiredly.
“Please do me one favor while you are here?” he asked. “There is an ivory box in that cupboard over there. Would you bring it to me?”
Rebecca stood and went to the glassed in shelves he indicated to find the ivory box. It wasn’t large. It looked like a lady’s effect more than a man’s. She brought it back to him and laid it in his lap. He opened the lid looking for something. Rebecca didn’t look, allowing him his privacy. Instead, she considered again how she would put into words what she wanted to say to the man.
“Rebecca,” Andrew called to her, bringing her attention back on him. “I had wanted to talk to you about us, when this was all over. You and I, we could do well together. I would very much like us to do well together, but . . . I can’t . . . He stopped his speech and grimaced in frustration, possibly from pain, Rebecca couldn’t tell. There was a bottle of medicine on the table beside him. It could either hold a sleeping drought or something for pain. She offered it to him, but he refused it.
“Fine time for me to be laid up. I can’t even sit up to do this right,” he complained. He then reached out with his good arm and took her hand, placing a small object in Rebecca’s palm. She started at the offer and tried to give it back, but he wouldn’t let her. “Don’t be so fast to refuse,” he said seriously. “Besides the blow to my already shattered ego, it would be rather impulsive of you not to at least think about it for a few days.”
Rebecca smiled and nodded. “I will consider it.”
With that, she laid a kiss on his temple. Halfway from pulling away from him she stopped and gave him another kiss on the mouth. That one lasted much longer than the first. When she finally broke it off, she stood. “I promise, I will give it very serious consideration.” Rebecca then left the room with the small gold ring held tightly in her hand.
She wouldn’t keep it. She couldn’t. He had explained that, “I can’t,” before. His ring would come at a heavy price. But she would consider it, as a path that might have been.
The End.
Chapter 12 | Chapter 13