Lavender Lies (Historical Romance) (4 page)

Colonel Grimsley shivered at the bitterness he saw in the duke's eyes. He had very little doubt that if anyone could catch the Swallow, it would be this man. "Do we work with you, then, Your Gr— Julian?"

"No. Both of you are to immediately cease any and all activities concerning the Swallow. I want her to feel safe and to be lulled into complacency. Given time, she will become careless and 1 shall have her!" Julian's eyes narrowed, and his voice came out in a harsh whisper. "I alone will bring down the woman who is responsible for my brother's death!"

At that very moment, upstairs, in one of the bedrooms of the Fife and Drum, a single candle burned low in the pewter sconce, casting shadows across the wall. Soft laughter tumbled from the lips of the beautiful young woman as she tucked a crumpled piece of paper into her scuffed boot.

She gazed cautiously at the British captain who was sprawled across the bed. Moving to his side, she lifted his eyelids to determine if the drug she had put in his drink had rendered him fully unconscious. When she saw that he was beginning to stir, she hurriedly removed the black wig she was wearing and stepped out of her green velvet gown. The man groaned, and she immediately reached into the lining of her cape and removed the clothing she had placed there earlier.

Hastily the young girl pulled on the man's trousers and shirt and placed a powdered wig on her head. As she pulled the cape about her, she crossed the room. With an urgency, she moved out the door and walked toward the stairs that led below to the common room.

When the girl reached the bottom of the stairs, her heart skipped a beat when she saw that there were three men seated at a table. For a fraction of a second, her eyes locked with deep brown eyes, and she was touched by an icy breath of fear. The dark, handsome man seemed to view her with boredom, and still she shivered with a feeling of strange foreboding. Quickly ducking her head and breaking eye contact, she pulled her hat low over her forehead and moved to the door, knowing the man followed her with his dark gaze.

Once outside, the wind whipped at the young woman's cloak, and the rain stung her delicate face. She strained her eyes in the downpour until she saw a familiar figure leading her mount forward. Losing no time, she sprung into the saddle and gathered her cape about her.

"Let's get away from here, Nicodemus. I have an uneasy feeling about this place."

Nicodemus checked his prancing horse. "Did you get what you came for?"

"Yes, I have the captain's papers," she replied, kicking her horse in the flanks and propelling him into the blinding rainstorm.

It was only moments after the door closed behind the young lad that Julian heard a commotion and glanced up at the English officer who staggered down the stairs waving his pistol in the air. His red captain's uniform was in disarray, his wig askew on his head. "To horse, men," the captain cried. "The Swallow struck, and she took my papers. After her, before she gets away!"

"Damnation," Julian swore, rising to his feet. He remembered staring into the young lad's face and thinking he was too pretty to be a boy. How was he to know that it had been none other than the Swallow! Even as Julian had been planning her downfall, the Swallow had been operating within his grasp. It was as if she had been mocking him!

Julian watched as the captain fumbled into his cape before darting for the door. He knew no one would catch the Swallow tonight. His eyes narrowed, and he stared out the window, noticing that the rain had intensified and would probably aid the woman in her escape.

Grimsley and Wilson stared in disbelief as the drugged captain staggered out the front door, hurling obscenities to the wind. The room became strangely silent. Turning to his fellow conspirators, Julian spoke in a soft voice. "I will begin my search for the Swallow in Williamsburg, Virginia. Do not expect to hear from me for some time."

"But, Your Grace," Wilson sputtered, in a voice of disbelief. "It would be foolhardy and dangerous to go among those rebellious hotheads."

A smile curved Julian's lips. "I will take pains to ingratiate myself with the rebels of Williamsburg. Perhaps that is the only way I will learn anything about our Swallow. When I was a boy, I fancied myself an artist, and will use that talent as my disguise."

"Please pardon me if I point out the folly of such a venture, Your Grace," Colonel Grimsley spoke up. 'The locals in Virginia will know you for an impostor the moment you open your mouth. It is very apparent that you are a man of noble birth. Your clothing alone will give you away. Everything you wear bespeaks of London."

Julian laughed aloud. "You would be surprised at what a fine actor I can be when the occasion calls for it. Does not every man at court these days act a part while in the company of my cousin, the German king?"

Cleave Wilson's face sobered. He was shocked that the duke should refer to the king in such unflattering terms. Many people spoke out against the king as "that German on the throne," but only in whispers.

"If you are set on doing this thing," Wilson said, quickly changing the subject, "at least allow one of us to go with you."

"No," Julian stated in an irrefutable tone. "This I must do alone."

His eyes sparkled with a dangerous light, and he realized he had to curb his impatience and bide his time. He would never give up his quest until he had the Swallow where he wanted her. Even though she was a woman, he would soon see her dance from the end of a rope—or, better still, he could have her transported back to England to face the humiliation of a public trial! He wanted her to experience the same pain and shame his brother had felt.

3

A gentle spring breeze ruffled the branches of the dogwood tree, causing a shower of snow-colored petals to fall earthward. As Lavender rushed down Gloucester Street, she noticed that the cherry trees were arrayed in a cloud of soft pink. She breathed in the delicate aroma of lilac bushes that mingled with wild honeysuckle, regretting the fact that she had no time to stop and enjoy the beauty of the flower gardens that were in full bloom. Could there be anywhere on earth as beautiful as Williamsburg in the spring? she wondered.

It was said that since Williamsburg had been settled by the English, it resembled an English village, though Lavender could not attest to that fact since she had never been to England. A tree-lined avenue offered a view of neat white wooden houses, intermingled with an occasional brick home. Green lawns, flower gardens, and tall mulberry trees added to the picture of the serene village. Fashionably dressed matrons and their young daughters paraded from shop to shop, interested in the latest fashions and fabrics.

Raising her gown so the buckles on her black leather shoes were visible, Lavender crossed the muddy street. A bell tinkled as she pushed the door open and entered the Pasteur and Gait Apothecary Shop where Dr. Gait had set up office. On the shelves, in blue-and-white apothecary jars, were herbs and medicines and even tobacco, their aromatic scents pleasing to the senses. On the wall hung a diploma in surgery, anatomy, and general medicine which Dr. Gait had earned from a London hospital.

Behind the counter, Martha Spencer's round face beamed with delight as she welcomed Lavender with a smile. Martha was the town gossip, though most people thought her harmless since she was so kindly and good-natured.

"The doctor told me to expect you this morning, Lavender."

"Is he in?"

"No, dear." She reached under the counter and handed Lavender a packet of medicine. "Doctor says to mix this with vinegar and honey and give your aunt one level spoonful every six hours. How is your aunt this morning, dear? Did she pass a comfortable night?"

"Yes, for the most part. Doctor Gait diagnosed her as having influenza and assured me she would be up and about in a week's time."

Martha went back to her task of folding white gauze into bandages. "1 can't imagine anything keeping Amelia abed. She is such a strong personality, I can guess that her temperament does not make her an amiable patient."

"My aunt is accustomed to an active life; she has very little patience with idleness. Even in her sickbed she insists on doing her mending."

Martha placed a neat roll of bandages into a covered jar and gave her entire attention to Lavender. "Are you still working at the Public Hospital?"

"Yes, Mrs. Spencer." Lavender wanted to leave before Martha Spencer started her inquisition, but as she edged toward the door, the older woman began firing questions at her.

"I do not believe that is a respectable occupation for a young unmarried girl, since it is a hospital for the mentally ill. I am told that you are called to the hospital at odd hours and sometimes stay overnight. How can your aunt approve of such goings-on?"

"Aunt Amelia is of the opinion that any honest work is acceptable. She also believes that service to the less fortunate is worthwhile." Lavender felt the need to defend her aunt to the prying Mrs. Spencer.

"No doubt she likes the money you bring in, too. I never could understand how someone with Amelia's money could live so miserly. I wonder what your dear father would have said if he were alive."

"I am sure he would adhere to my aunt's good judgment. My father trusted his sister or he would never have given her guardianship over me."

"Poor man, to think that he was a casualty of this war. What a pity he had to linger in agony from his wounds before he finally found peace. I never did know the exact circumstances of how he was shot, dear."

"Mrs. Spencer, could you blend several different herbs to make a drink for my aunt? She does so miss her tea." Lavender artfully changed the subject, as she always did when anyone asked about her father's death. It wouldn't do for anyone to know her father had been a spy. Hopefully, when the war was ended everyone would know he had died a hero.

"Of course, I have a delightful blend of herbs and spices that seems to please several of our ladies. Tell me, Lavender, do you ever hear from your brother? I suppose if the young man isn't dead he's chasing after the war like all the other hotheads his age. One wonders if this war will ever end. What's a lady to do with all the French troops crowding our streets and eyeing our young girls. A person can't tell friend from foe. 1 declare it has me jumping at shadows."

Before Lavender could answer, the bell over the door tinkled, announcing a newcomer. Lavender sighed with relief when she saw it was her friend, Elizabeth Eldridge. As the two girls embraced, Elizabeth whispered in Lavender's ear, "I saw you through the window and came in to rescue you."

Lavender gave her friend a thankful smile as she turned back to Martha Spencer. "I must be going now, Mrs. Spencer. Have a good day." She could read the disappointment in the older woman's eyes, and she knew that Mrs. Spencer would not be put off for long. She would most certainly ask her questions at another time. Lavender knew that many people were puzzled because she helped out at the hospital.

As the two girls walked along arm in arm, in the brisk spring air, Elizabeth's green silk gown rustled while Lavender's homespun gown was rough and uncomfortable. "Lavender, when are you going to get rid of those horrid black gowns and put on something cheerful? I happen to know that somewhere beneath that appalling creation lurks my lovely friend Lavender."

Elizabeth Eldridge flicked the stiff white toque that covered Lavender's hair before continuing her lecture. "And another thing. Remove that thing from your head and allow your glorious golden hair to breathe. I declare, you dress and act like a woman twice your age. Mama says one grows old soon enough, and one need not hurry the process."

A smile curved Lavender's lips. This was not the first time Elizabeth had chided her about her appearance, and most probably it would not be the last. The two had been friends since the Eldridges moved to Williamsburg five years ago, and Lavender had always admired Elizabeth's honesty and loyalty.

"What else does your mother say, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. "As a matter of fact, Mama says you are a good influence on me and she wishes that I were more like you. She thinks you studious and serene."

"Heaven forbid!" Lavender exclaimed in mock horror. "If that notion gets around, I will be ruined for sure."

"Stop changing the subject and answer me. When are you going to add color to your wardrobe?"

"Lizzy, I am not like you. You would look lovely if you dressed in an old sack." Lavender glanced at Elizabeth. She was blessed with blue eyes that sparkled with good health and soft auburn hair that framed a small, heart-shaped face.

"You and 1 both know you are far lovelier than I am, Lavender, and don't pretend otherwise. You have never given me a satisfactory answer as to why you dress like some old spinster who can't catch a beau and wouldn't know what to do with one if she did."

Humor danced across Lavender's face. "Lizzy, you know that 1 have no interest in fashion. Sometimes 1 feel years older than you. I have no interest in having beaux dance in attendance to me. Besides, I dress to please myself."

Elizabeth refused to be put off. "You could have a number of beaux if you didn't insist on frightening all the men away with your obvious disinterest and tedious, bookish ways." Sparing no words, her friend continued. "While we are on the subject, there is one other thing I want to inquire in: Why do you insist on wearing those disagreeable-looking spectacles?"

Lavender smiled and adjusted the silver-rimmed glasses to her eyes. "I can see better with them."

"Nonsense," Elizabeth argued, removing the glasses from Lavender's face and holding them to her own eyes. "It's just as I suspected. These glasses do not improve your eyesight one whit. They are just another ploy you use to make yourself appear dowdy. Why are you doing this? Do you want to spend the rest of your life as a bitter old woman like your aunt?"

Lavender stopped in her tracks and her blue eyes lost their luster. "Most people don't understand Aunt Amelia. True, she is not of an outgoing temperament, but she has taken care of me and given me a home."

"Huh, you have slaved for her and become an unpaid servant. When was the last time you attended a party or had a new gown?"

"There is a war going on, Lizzy."

"1 am aware of that, Lavender, but I care about what happens to you. I have come to suspect that there are things in your life that you don't share with anyone. Why do you make all those mysterious trips to the hospital and sometimes stay for- days? I hurt for you, Lavender."

"You are my best friend, Lizzy, and I know that you think you know what is best for me—but you don't. I do what I must, and if you are truly my friend, you will try to understand, and please do not ask questions."

"Tish tosh. I always thought you would make a great actress. This is me, your friend who knows you better than you know yourself, so don't try to deceive me. Why can't you tell me what is really going on in your mind? Why does a lovely young woman like yourself suddenly pull into her shell and cease to live? Why must you spend so much time at the Public Hospital?"

Lavender realized that Lizzy was becoming much too inquisitive, so she had to appease her. It would not do for anyone, not even her best friend, to suspect she only pretended to spend such long hours at the hospital, or why she disguised her appearance.

"I do not have time to discuss this with you today. I have to get this medicine back to Aunt Amelia."

Elizabeth laid her hand on Lavender's. "I have finished tormenting you for today, but I will continue to have your best interests at heart. You are spirited and alive, yet you seem to be contented with so little."

Lavender pondered very carefully before answering. "I thank you for your friendship and your concern, but I can assure you that there is no need to worry on my account. You will have to trust me in this."

A dozen questions tumbled in Elizabeth's head, but she knew now was not the time to voice them. "What am I to do with you, Lavender? You just won't listen to reason."

Lavender smiled impishly. "A moment ago you called me spirited, while Aunt Amelia says I am spineless. 1 wonder which one of you is correct?"

Elizabeth tapped her foot angrily. "I don't mean to be unkind, but your aunt is just a bitter old woman. She doesn't know what it is to feel young. I have watched her try to break your spirit for years. I fear she has half succeeded. I promise you that I will not give up on you, Lavender. I could never resist a challenge . . ." Lizzy's eyes sparkled. ". . . and I am determined to be your salvation."

The two young ladies' laughter blended until Lavender's face sobered, and she lowered her lashes. "Trust me, Lizzy. I cannot confide in you at the moment. It is as much for your protection as my own. You cannot testify to what you are ignorant of."

Elizabeth's face whitened. "Don't talk like that, Lavender, it makes me frightened for you. What are you involved in?"

Lavender linked her arm through her friend's. "Is it not a lovely day? The rainstorm yesterday made everything look so green. Don't you just love the way the air smells after a rain? I believe spring is my favorite time of year."

Elizabeth knew Lavender was purposely changing the subject. She sighed wearily and tried to dismiss her unsettled thoughts. "Yes, I do believe spring is a favorite with me also," she added in defeat. "But I do predict stormy days ahead for you. Just remember I am your friend."

Lavender's eyes clouded with pain. "I will remember."

"Tell me," Elizabeth asked, moving to a safer subject. "Can it be true that your aunt is taking in a lodger?"

"Yes, it is true. Aunt Amelia had posted a notice in the
Virginia Gazette
, and she received a letter from a gentleman called Julian West who lives in Georgia. He will be arriving some time this week."

"Why ever would your aunt take in a boarder? Surely she can't need the money since her needs are so simple."

A worried frown creased Lavender's brow. "I do not know, Lizzy. I fear Aunt Amelia is sometimes eccentric. I try to humor her when I can."

"Surely you cannot humor her by allowing a complete stranger to live under the same roof?"

"My aunt said Mr. West has impressive credentials. He will be placed in the east wing so he can have his own entrance and come and go as he likes."

"Do you know anything else about the man? How old is he?"

"I have no idea."

"It all sounds very odd to me." Even as she spoke, Elizabeth realized her friend's mind was somewhere else and she could feel her withdrawing into some secret place. A place where no one else could intrude. Even dressed in black and hiding behind the glasses, Lavender could not disguise her beauty. Elizabeth silently assessed her friend. She was tall for a girl, willowy and delicate. Deep-blue eyes were perfectly framed with thick, sooty lashes. Lavender's features were lovely beyond words. It hurt Elizabeth that her friend had chosen to live like a recluse ever since her father had died. Very little was known about the manner in which Samuel Daymond had met his end. Even now Lavender refused to discuss her father with anyone.