Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO KEPT ME HIDDEN
Martha Bell was waiting in a convent garden outside Rouen.
Not imprisoned.
Not guarded.
Pruning roses.
I stopped at the gate.
For one impossible moment, she was exactly as I remembered.
Gray dress.
White hair.
Strong hands.
The woman who had brought broth to my attic.
The woman who held my shoulders while I labored through a thunderstorm.
The woman whose funeral I had mourned beside Nicholas when he was two.
Then she looked up.
The shears fell from her hand.
“Eliza.”
My throat closed.
I walked toward her.
She did not move.
When I reached her, I slapped her.
Apparently this family reunion style had become contagious.
Martha accepted it.
Then I hugged her.
Hard.
She began crying.
“I’m sorry.”
“You died.”
“I know.”
“You let me bury you.”
“I know.”
“You left Nicholas.”
Her face broke.
“I know.”
I stepped back.
“Do not say you did it to protect us.”
She closed her eyes.
“I did.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
Adrien remained near gate.
He watched.
Martha saw him.
Her face changed.
“Your Grace.”
“No.”
She blinked.
“Not today.”
Something in his voice surprised her.
“Adrien, then.”
“Why did you hide Elizabeth from me?”
Martha looked at me first.
Permission.
I nodded.
Good.
Choice.
She said:
“Because Edmund Ashkam asked me to.”
Victoria’s brother.
“Before he died?”
“Yes.”
“What did Edmund know?”
“That his father had compromised the Crown investigation.”
Adrien’s expression tightened.
“His father ran the network?”
“Part of it.”
“Sebastian?”
“Fighting it.”
“Why fake death?”
“Because Lord Ashkam had placed men inside every channel Sebastian used.”
Adrien laughed without humor.
“Including mine.”
“Yes.”
That hurt him.
Martha turned to me.
“The night you left Blackthornne Hall, Edmund had placed the ledger copy inside your traveling case.”
“I never saw it.”
“I removed it.”
“When?”
“At the coaching inn outside London.”
I stared.
“You followed me.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I had been watching the house.”
“For Edmund.”
“Yes.”
“Did Adrien know?”
“No.”
Adrien looked away.
Martha continued.
“I knew Lord Ashkam’s men were following you.”
My blood turned cold.
“I never saw them.”
“You weren’t meant to.”
“So you let me continue north.”
“Yes.”
“Why not take me somewhere safe immediately?”
“Because if they saw me approach you, my usefulness ended.”
I sat on stone bench.
Every mile of my flight had been observed.
Not by one side.
By several.
Martha said:
“At York, I arranged for you to enter the house as if by accident.”
“The room.”
“Yes.”
“The attic.”
“Yes.”
“My name.”
“Vale.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
“Warning.”
“Against Henry Vale.”
“Yes.”
“You thought I might eventually hear the name and remember.”
“I hoped.”
“I never did.”
“I know.”
“James’s letters?”
Her face tightened.
“I received two.”
“He sent three.”
“I never saw third.”
“What happened to first two?”
“I kept them.”
My anger rose.
“You what?”
“If you learned James knew where you were, you might write back.”
“I had a right to.”
“Yes.”
“Then why?”
“Because his post was monitored.”
“Again.”
Martha looked ashamed.
“I chose for you.”
“Yes.”
“I am sorry.”
I stood.
“Do you understand what that cost?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
My voice broke.
“You do not.”
Martha’s eyes filled.
“You believed you had no brother.”
“Yes.”
“You believed Adrien might take your baby.”
“Yes.”
“You labored believing there was no one to call.”
“Yes.”
My voice rose.
“Nicholas nearly died of fever at nine months and I sat beside him alone because the woman who could contact my family decided silence was safer.”
Martha cried.
I did too.
“You do not get to call that protection and expect me to forgive it.”
“I don’t.”
Good.
“I expect you to hate me for part of it.”
I stared.
“And the rest?”
“To understand later, perhaps.”
Honest.
Better.
Adrien said:
“Your death.”
Martha looked at him.
“When Nicholas was two, Ashkam’s men found York.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“They found my name. Not yours.”
“Then?”
“I staged my death.”
“How?”
“A woman from network died without family. We used her papers.”
I felt sick.
Another borrowed corpse.
“You left us.”
“I arranged money.”
“The envelope in the flour tin.”
“Yes.”
“I thought it was savings.”
“It was.”
“From who?”
“Sebastian.”
Adrien went still.
“He funded Elizabeth.”
“Yes.”
For five years after Martha’s “death,” anonymous deposits appeared through a solicitor in Leeds.
I assumed Martha had created a trust.
Sebastian had been quietly keeping us alive.
“Why didn’t he contact Adrien?” I asked.
Martha looked at the duke.
“Because we did not trust him.”
Adrien took the blow.
“Why?”
“Because his reports went through Henry Vale.”
Adrien’s face changed.
“My secretary.”
“Yes.”
“We thought you might be compromised or complicit.”
“Was I?”
“No.”
“You know now.”
“Yes.”
“Why not earlier?”
“By the time we knew, Elizabeth had disappeared again.”
I frowned.
“I moved after Martha died.”
“Yes.”
“To Bath. Then Somerset.”
“We lost you.”
For five years.
That explained something.
The money stopped.
I had thought the solicitor fund exhausted.
“You were not watching us all seven years.”
“No.”
Relief came.
Strange.
Martha continued:
“Then seven months ago, Sebastian found a school registry.”
Nicholas.
He used Vale.
The code name became trail.
“Why send letter to Beatrice?”
“To see if the family reacted.”
“Testing,” Adrien said bitterly.
Martha nodded.
“Yes.”
“Everyone loves tests.”
I looked at him.
He looked back.
Both of us understood.
Then footsteps sounded along garden path.
A man appeared.
Tall.
Silver hair.
Cane.
Lord Sebastian Blackthornne.
Alive.
Adrien froze.
Sebastian stopped.
For a second neither man moved.
Then Sebastian said:
“You got old.”
Adrien laughed once.
“So did you.”
They embraced.
Hard.
No slap.
I almost felt cheated.
Sebastian looked at me.
“Elizabeth.”
“You owe me several explanations.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He sat with us beneath bare arbor.
Martha remained.
No more secrets in separate rooms.
Sebastian opened a leather case.
“The Ashkam network began as a private committee during wartime procurement. It should have dissolved.”
“It didn’t,” Adrien said.
“No.”
“Lord Ashkam.”
“Expanded it. Arms contracts. shipping. political favors. blackmail.”
“Government ministers?”
“Some.”
“Foreign buyers?”
“Many.”
“Why fake your death?”
“Because I discovered Ashkam had an execution list.”
I looked at Martha.
“The one in my bag.”
“Copy.”
Sebastian nodded.
“He intended to kill anyone capable of exposing the committee.”
“Why me?”
“Because you were Adrien’s wife.”
“That is not enough.”
“You knew details without realizing.”
I frowned.
“What details?”
“Names Adrien mentioned at dinner. places. schedules.”
Adrien looked horrified.
“I never discussed classified—”
“Not classified.”
Sebastian interrupted.
“Fragments.”
He looked at me.
“Ashkam believed wives hear what officials do not know they reveal.”
I laughed bitterly.
“So I was dangerous because I listened.”
“Yes.”
“And a child?”
Sebastian’s face darkened.
“An heir connects Blackthornne property, title, and influence to Adrien beyond his own lifetime.”
Adrien’s jaw tightened.
“A child was leverage.”
“Yes.”
I felt cold.
Nicholas.
Not evidence.
Not witness.
Leverage.
Sebastian continued.
“Edmund discovered his father’s list. He made copies. One went with you.”
“Why?”
“Because no one expected a duchess fleeing a marriage to be carrying intelligence.”
I stared.
“He used my heartbreak as cover.”
Sebastian nodded.
“I am sorry.”
“Did Adrien know?”
“No.”
Adrien’s face hardened.
“Had I known—”
“You would have stopped it.”
“Yes.”
“And Ashkam would have known you had the ledger.”
Sebastian’s tone sharpened.
“We did not trust your temper.”
Adrien laughed.
“Reasonable, apparently.”
I looked at him.
Growth.
Again.
Sebastian opened a second file.
“Lord Ashkam survived an assassination attempt five years ago and has lived under false identities since.”
“Victoria?” Adrien asked.
“Believes him dead.”
I frowned.
“She doesn’t know.”
“No.”
“Then why was she afraid when she saw Nicholas?”
“Because she knows the old network remains active.”
“Who runs it now?”
Sebastian’s expression changed.
“That is what we have been trying to prove.”
“Not Ashkam?”
“He directs part.”
“Then who is above him?”
Silence.
Martha looked down.
Adrien noticed.
“Say it.”
Sebastian looked at him.
“The Lord Chancellor.”
My breath caught.
One of the most powerful men in Britain.
Adrien stood.
“Which?”
Sebastian named him.
Lord Cedric Wycliffe.
Adrien went pale.
I knew the name.
Everyone did.
Trusted by the Crown.
Architect of legal reforms.
Frequent guest at Blackthornne Hall years ago.
Then memory struck.
I stood too.
“What?”
Adrien looked at me.
I saw it.
A dinner.
Eight years ago.
Wycliffe complimenting my necklace.
Asking whether Adrien and I planned children.
Joking that Blackthornne needed an heir.
My skin crawled.
“He asked about a child before the list.”
Sebastian nodded.
“He was mapping succession.”
Adrien swore.
I sat.
Then Marchand entered garden at a run.
“Sebastian.”
“What?”
“Telegram from London.”
He handed paper.
Sebastian read.
His face drained.
Adrien took it.
I watched him.
“What happened?”
He looked at me.
“Nicholas.”
My blood froze.
“What?”
“Beatrice’s house was searched.”
I stood so fast the bench moved.
“Is he safe?”
“Yes.”
I nearly collapsed.
“Where?”
Adrien hesitated.
“Beatrice moved the children.”
“Where?”
“She won’t say by telegram.”
Good.
Smart.
Then he continued:
“They left a message.”
Sebastian read aloud.
THE DUCHESS HAS WHAT BELONGS TO THE CROWN.
BRING HER HOME.
I stared.
“I have nothing.”
Martha closed her eyes.
“What?”
I turned.
“What?”
She looked at me.
“You do.”
My pulse changed.
“No.”
“The original ledger was never on paper.”
Silence.
“What was it?”
Martha looked toward my hand.
My bare left hand.
“The wedding ring.”
I stopped breathing.
“My ring.”
“Yes.”
“You mean the ring I left on Adrien’s letter.”
“Yes.”
Adrien stared.
“I kept it.”
Martha nodded.
“The diamond setting contains a micro-engraved cipher plate.”
I laughed because the alternative was screaming.
“Our wedding ring was intelligence.”
“No.”
Martha looked pained.
“It became intelligence later.”
“Who altered it?”
“Edmund.”
“When?”
“The week before you left.”
Adrien’s face went cold.
“He entered our house.”
“Yes.”
“Touched my wife’s ring.”
“Yes.”
I looked at Adrien.
“The ring is here?”
“No.”
His face changed.
I knew before he answered.
“Where?”
“In London.”
“Where in London?”
He swallowed.
“My private bank vault.”
Sebastian stood.
“Then Wycliffe is not searching for Nicholas because he has the ledger.”
Adrien’s eyes hardened.
“He is searching because he needs me to open the vault.”
I felt cold.
May you like
The ring I left behind as proof our marriage was over had become the one thing keeping a powerful conspiracy alive.
And it had spent seven years waiting for us in London.
