Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

P atience waited for news, but what news came was not what she expected.

"Patience!" Joy rushed into the room. "Come, it's time!"

"The baby?"

"Yes!" Then she turned and ran back up the stairs, but stopped at the landing and turned around as though she had just remembered her original purpose in coming down in the first place. "Can you tell Westwood?"

"Of course." Patience shook her head. It was clear that Joy expected Patience to take care of everything. First, she found the butler. "Armstrong, please send for Dr. Harvey. Lady Westwood's labour pains have begun. And please ensure we are not at home to any visitors the rest of the day—no matter how insistent they are." At least she could have a brief reprieve from any Fagges the rest of the day.

"Very good, Miss Whitford."

Then she knocked on the door to the study, where Westwood had been for some time discussing matters with the soldiers.

Major Stuart opened the door.

"Forgive the intrusion."

He raised a brow at those words.

"But it appears Faith has begun her labour pains. I have already sent for the doctor."

Instantly, her ever-calm brother-in-law looked frantic. Without a word, he took off in search of his wife.

Patience fully expected the doctor would come and pronounce that it would be days before the babe was delivered, but it was always best to at least hear that reassurance, and make certain there were no complications.

Next, she found the housekeeper and asked Mrs. Armstrong to send up the necessary supplies.

Frankly, Patience was relieved to have something to divert her worries over Rupert. If he was already becoming so amorous without a betrothal, what would he try next?

Patience climbed the stairs to check on her sister, and she could hear the moans of pain before she reached her door.

Knocking lightly, she let herself in. Faith was walking around, holding her back. Grace, Joy, and Vivienne all sat there trying to distract Faith, while Westwood was hovering.

Patience looked on with dismay. If it were her, she would want her privacy, but perhaps Faith did not wish to be alone.

Her sister saw her then half-smiled, half-grimaced as a contraction overtook her, causing her to lean over the back of a chair, gripping it with white knuckles. She beckoned Patience over as soon as the pain subsided.

"Would you like me to make everyone to leave?" Patience asked.

Faith shook her head. "No. It helps distract me. I fear this may go on forever. Would you mind sending off a letter to Hope?"

"Of course not."

"Thank you. I am certain I will need you more later."

"Is there anything I can send up for your comfort? I've asked Mrs. Armstrong to bring towels and boiling water."

"I cannot think of a thing at this moment, but there are many here I can send if I need something. Westwood might need some distraction, however," she whispered.

Patience kissed Faith on the forehead before leaving, somewhat grateful to be sent away for now. Perhaps she was lacking something maternal, and she would, of course, be there for Faith when needed, but spending the entire time in there would drive her mad.

What did it say about her that she'd rather be solving the mystery surrounding the missing arms? Birth was messy and painful and she did not mind delaying the reality of it as long as possible.

She went to the ladies' sitting room and penned a missive to their sister, Hope, who had been the first of the sisters to have a child. Patience had little doubt Hope would come as quickly as possible, for they had delayed their trip to the Continent with the Duke until Faith gave birth.

There was a knock and she looked up to see Major Stuart with his head around the door. "May I come in?"

"Yes, of course."

"How is Faith doing?"

"Holding up as well as can be expected. There is a long way to go yet. I was given a reprieve for now." She indicated the letter. "Your brother, on the other hand, might need a sedative before long."

Stuart laughed. "I will look after him when Faith sends him away, which she most assuredly will."

Patience folded up her letter and sealed it. She'd have a footman take this to Rotham instead of sending it by post.

"May I help you with that?" he asked.

"I was just going to take it to Armstrong. Was there any news about the situation?"

"Very little, I'm afraid. We are to pretend that we are removing Devil, hoping that will give our man a false sense of security. Manners was able to have his father arrange another shipment within the next week. We are hoping to narrow down who is either profiting from the information or who is leaking it to someone else—even if unwittingly."

"Will you continue to signal?"

"Yes, as well as have the rest of the gang followed."

"But won't the man have to send his own signal if he needs to indicate there is a shipment to take?"

"Indeed, and that is how we hope to catch him. If they are aware we are flashing one signal each night, they might position themselves to send the extra flash or two."

"Clever. You think they will be bold enough to come onto the estate?"

"When they see all of us supposedly leaving today, I think they will."

"So you will hide, then? It could work."

"It could also be a dead end. They may have decided to contact the gang another way and abandon this altogether, but Manners and Cholmely are following them."

"I assume the shipment will also be followed from London."

"Indeed. Along with the one we suspect to be the culprit."

She pondered. "There's little else you can do if Devil does not give you any further information."

"In some aspects, I think he has told us all he knows, but then I think perhaps I have not asked the right questions. He is more willing to speak with us than at first, on account of wanting to protect his son, Billy. Once we threatened Billy and offered transportation, he has been more compliant."

"And Cook's food?" She had heard of the requests to bribe the prisoner with delicacies.

"Treacle sponge."

"I would sell my soul for some of that if I was starving," she agreed while standing to take the letter to the butler.

It was rare to have this moment of camaraderie with him. Was it due to guilt over Rupert? Whatever the reason, it felt wonderful to be included—to feel that her opinions mattered. When he behaved that way, it was hard to remember why he annoyed her so much. It was not a deterrent for her childish infatuation in the least.

A loud groan of pain echoed through the house and they exchanged mutual grimaces.

"I have a feeling it is going to be a very long day and night for Faith. Why do I think it will be harder on Dominic, somehow?"

"At least he will think it was harder on him. Men!" Patience muttered with exasperation.

"I am off to arrange for Devil's transportation. I will be back to see to Dominic later."

They walked together to the marbled entrance hall where they found Armstrong. Major Stuart was leaving just as a trap pulled up the front drive with Dr. Harvey inside.

Patience waited until he approached the door. "Good afternoon, Doctor. I will take you to my sister."

"How is her ladyship faring?" he asked as they ascended the stairs.

"The contractions seem to be causing her discomfort, but she is very resilient."

They reached the door and she knocked lightly again, then opened it as she could hear the chatter from those in the room.

Westwood exhaled with visible relief at the sight of the doctor, while her sisters and Vivienne stood to leave so Faith could be examined.

If Dr. Harvey thought it was strange that there seemed to be calling hours in Lady Westwood's chambers, he did not mention it.

As she closed the door behind them, she heard the doctor ask, "How far apart have your pains been, my lady?"

"Why don't we send for tea?" Patience suggested, steering the ladies towards the drawing room where she knew the dowagers and the aunts would be.

The tea tray had already been delivered, and Mr. Cunningham and Lord Montford were sitting there entertaining the ladies. Xander jumped up and came to greet Patience.

"There you are!" She kneeled to pet him while his whole body shook with excitement as though he'd not seen her in weeks.

"I apologize, Miss Whitford. I did not mean to monopolize him, but I did not find you when we returned to the house."

She waved his apology away.

"How is dear Faith?" Aunt Flora asked.

"The doctor is with her now."

"Her pains sound too close together for just beginning labour," the Dowager remarked.

"Oh, she did not just begin," Joy informed them. "Faith said the pains started last evening before bed."

All heads swung towards Joy. "I beg your pardon? The younger of the two Dowager Lady Westwood's asked. "Perhaps I should go and attend her now." She hurriedly rose and left the room.

"It seems we might have a baby soon, after all," the elder dowager remarked.

"Dash it all, I'll lose the wager," Aunt Rosemary bemoaned.

Patience supposed she should go and assist as well.

Ashley could not say why he had sought Patience out. It was one of the first conversations they'd had where they seemed to be in harmony. One of the things he liked most about her was her unpredictability. While she exasperated him at every chance, she also intrigued him more than was healthy. It was impossible to stop thinking about her.

Ashley was glad to escape the house. He wanted to be as far away from childbirth as possible. If he were being honest, he would be as bad as Westwood or worse if it was his wife going through those pains and he could do nothing to help. Worse, being the cause of it. So many women and babies did not survive, and he knew his brother must be suffering from crippling fear that he might lose his beloved.

Ashley found the others in the stables, preparing their show. He would look in upon Dominic later.

It had been agreed upon ahead of time that Ashley would remain since it was his brother's house and Lady Westwood was giving birth. It would be more unusual were he to leave at a time like this.

A plain, hired conveyance was waiting near the stables, and all of the men had gathered in the yard. Renforth pulled them aside.

A few of them would ride along surrounding the carriage for protection as they would a normal prisoner. Westwood had some horses to be taken to London to their new homes.

He would ride with them as far as the village. The carriage would go all of the way to London's Newgate Prison, just in case they were followed. It was an elaborate ruse, but they could not be too careful.

"There is a chance there could be trouble, so be prepared. Remember that everything you do, treat it as though you're being watched. Any servant, anyone in the woods, do not trust that your actions or words are not being shared elsewhere." Renforth prepared them as he used to do before battle.

Those things were deeply ingrained in Ashley and in all of them, but it was a good reminder to tell Patience. He'd shared details of their operation with her for some unknown reason, and she did not have the training that he and the others did.

He knew why he'd involved her—he wanted to share with her—be with her—even though it was putting her in danger.

"Should I follow all the way to London?" Ashley asked, riding his own horse.

"So long as you are back in place to signal tonight," Renforth replied.

Ashley inclined his head and they all mounted up and followed the carriage.

When they turned down the drive, two riders were approaching. It did not take long for Ashley to recognize the round, pudgy form of Rupert, along with Sir Horace. He cursed under his breath. "What the devil is he doing back here?" He looked to Fielding, who shook his head. "I need to head them off. I will catch up to you."

Ashley pulled up and spoke with a civility he was far from feeling. "Good afternoon. What brings you back to Taywards today?"

"I thought to assist you with the prisoner," Rupert answered.

Sir Horace snorted.

"Good of you, but as you can see, we soldiers have it well in hand."

Rupert could hardly argue with that, but his face evidenced visible disappointment. The carriage was surrounded by armed men. He appeared to be looking inside, not too subtly. Ashley wanted him to be the culprit, but for one, it was too obvious, and for two, he had not the wits to be secretive.

"I am glad to see you heeded my advice about removing him."

Ashley continued, hoping to divert the visitors from the house. "And not a moment too soon. Lady Westwood is with the doctor right now."

"Lady Fagge is just following us to pay a call on them." Indeed, a carriage was waiting for the prisoner convoy to leave the drive so it could enter.

"Perhaps you can head them off and inform them that now would not be the best time for a visit." Ashley did not bother with niceties. He feared they would be lost on them.

Sir Horace's face indicated he would rather not inform his wife of anything of the sort. "I suppose not," he conceded, as he began turning his horse.

They pulled to the end of the drive where Lady Fagge and her three daughters were stopped. Sir Horace hailed the driver. "Lady Westwood is indisposed and it is therefore not a good time to visit. We will be home later."

Thankfully, Ashley could not hear what Lady Fagge said. He tipped his hat to the carriage in case they were looking, but dared not get close enough to engage in conversation.

"I bid you a good day," he said, hoping to escape.

"Wait! We are going to follow," Rupert called.

Ashley gritted his teeth, but he could hardly deny them. "Have you a fancy to see Newgate?" he teased, but wondered what he was up to. "I must catch up to the others." If Sir Horace and Rupert wished to follow, they could do as they will. He had not the rank nor authority to gainsay them, but his commander did.

He caught up with the others just past the village. He could not gallop through it, so the Fagge men kept pace with him. What a devilish awkward situation this was and the look of irritation on Renforth's face when he saw his companions should have been a warning. Neither Fagge had any jurisdiction over the situation and they could certainly risk everything.

Renforth pulled up. "May I ask your destination?" he asked Sir Horace.

"We thought to follow along for extra security," Rupert answered pompously.

"While I appreciate the thought, I must ask that you either turn back or proceed ahead of our convoy. I cannot be liable for your safety nor jeopardize the prisoner."

Sir Horace looked taken back. Rupert sputtered.

Just then, four masked men shot out of the woods straight towards the carriage. Someone must have given them away!

"We are all armed and will shoot!" Renforth warned as all guns were raised, cocked, and aimed.

Ashley did not see any peaceful way out of this, but he knew his commander would not shoot first.

"Let 'em go, and we will leave in peace."

Ashley recognized the voice from the night at the pub. It was Devil's gang. Even with Chum and Manners following them, they would not have been able to prevent this or even send warning in time had they not left to participate in this ruse.

"I am afraid I cannot do that," Renforth said. "He will have a fair trial."

"Bollocks!" the man spat loudly. "I'm afraid you leave me no choice." The eldest man cocked his pistol and took aim at Baines, who was guarding the door of the carriage. Fielding shot the gun out of his hand, then they all dove for cover as was their training. But who shot whom during what became a blur as the following eruption was akin to the heat of battle? Pistols discharged in a staccato of sound, the acrid smell of gunpowder as foul as the smoke that clouded the air.

When shots were expended, the gang fled back into the woods, no longer able to claim any advantage with empty barrels.

"Are they gone?" Ashley called.

"For now," Renforth answered. Everyone began to emerge from their places to take stock of the damage.

Baines stood and wiped the dirt from his front where he'd taken cover on the ground. It was a miracle the horses hadn't bolted in the melee.

Chum and Manners had taken off after the gang, which was a good sign that they were unharmed.

Fielding and Renforth were checking the prisoner and inside the carriage, so Ashley turned to see Sir Horace standing over Rupert's prone form. He had fallen from his horse, and a large pool of blood covered his back.

Ashley slid off his horse and felt for Rupert's pulse, but his lifeless eyes staring back at him told the story. Rupert had been shot dead. But how and by whom?

Rupert had been beside him the whole time. Had he turned around? Ashley could not think that he had. The others came over to see once they were certain the prisoner and driver were unharmed.

"Sir Horace, I am terribly sorry. Did you see what happened?"

Sir Horace stood there, immobile.

Renforth shook his head. They would get nothing useful from him for now.

"I would send for the magistrate, but he is currently attending his wife in childbed."

Sir Horace continued to stand over the body in disbelief, as if too numb to cry and shocked into inaction. A farmer in a cart was passing by and stopped to help. Another horse and rider rode towards them, looking frantic. It was Greening.

"I heard the gunfire. What has happened?"

Ashley was surprised the entire village was not yet upon them after the gun battle that had just happened.

Renforth pulled Ashley aside. "Are you able to manage this? I think we should proceed with our original plan before the gang has time to regroup. I think at least one of them was winged."

"I will see to having Rupert removed to the icehouse. Taywards is the only one hereabouts. Westwood will unfortunately have to make a decision about the inquest. He may call someone else in if necessary." Thankfully, they were close enough to the village that he could get help quickly there if this farmer would oblige, and Greening would see to Sir Horace.

"We should return just after dark as planned."

"I will be there." Ashley turned to take charge of the mess.