AMID THE CONFUSION WHICH FOLLOWED, WHILE THE GREATER PART of my mind succumbed to the upheaval of all I had known, a small corner still clung to rational order. An illegitimate alliance between war and commerce, Nevell had said – had he known my uncle represented war’s side of the bargain? I would not think him incapable of it. Certainly, it explained why Lyell had been so interested to hear of my connections, why the conspirators had trusted me so readily. Nor should it have surprised me to find my uncle implicated in this scheme: he despised the current ministry, the First Lord most of all. If he saw a chance to humiliate his political enemies, then striking at the Spanish as well would be an almost unsought dividend.
One thing was unarguable: my uncle’s reputation, his career, perhaps even his life, if the government deemed it treason, were hostage to this letter. As a dutiful, affectionate nephew, I should doubtless have thrown it on the fire and forgotten forever the fact of its existence. As a nephew who had suffered more threats, tantrums and obloquy from my uncle than ever he had directed at the French, I did not hesitate. I folded both sheets of the letter, the original and the decipherment, and thrust them inside my coat. It was hard to keep from smiling. Those two papers could be the ruination of my uncle’s career; they could equally be the salvation of my own. With them in my hands, what could he deny me? A rapid promotion, then a pension and a stipend in some Navy Office sinecure. After weeks of submission I felt a rare glow of purpose kindle within me. Perhaps Nevell had done me a favour. Now all that mattered was that I survive the ordeal, escape this wilderness and return to London to claim my prize.
The fire flared in the grate as a gust of air fanned it. ‘What the Jesus are you doing here?’
I turned, banging my knee on the table leg in my haste. I winced as I stood, and winced again as I saw the gleam of blue metal, the twin barrels of a shotgun pointed straight towards me. Harman Blennerhassett was standing by the open door, an incongruous sight in his nightshirt, slippers and cap. He was not wearing his spectacles, though at that range even he might have hit me without them.
‘It’s Lieutenant Jerrold,’ I said.
The gun angled down a little, though not nearly so much as I would have liked. ‘And what do you mean by prying around my study so late, Mr Jerrold, when good Christian men should be abed?’
I stared around the room, trying desperately to think of some innocent excuse. All I could fix on was the pickled frog on the workbench where my uncle’s letter had lain. Dear God, what if Blennerhassett noticed its absence? Even if he did not, Tyler surely would next morning.
The thought of having to surrender my prize, my hard-won card to trump my uncle, spurred my mind to invention. ‘It was the letter,’ I said. ‘The letter I brought for Mr Tyler from England.’
Blennerhassett jerked his head. ‘What of it?’
‘I burned it,’ I said baldly. ‘I did not wish it to fall into the wrong hands.’
The gun’s muzzle dropped towards the floor. A loose piece of shot trickled out of the barrel and rolled away.
‘It was a good thought, Lieutenant. Your superiors in London were wise to send you.’
I almost laughed at the thought of what my superior in London would say if he knew where I was. He is a resourceful man well known to me, he had said. Half of it was true.
‘Your caution does you credit – though it was not necessary, you know.’ Blennerhassett smiled. ‘You have no enemies on this island tonight.’
I returned to my room shivering with more than cold. I knew how near my escape had been. Blennerhassett might be able to peer deep into nature with his microscopes and spyglasses, but when it came to his fellow men even his spectacles could not help. Had Tyler confronted me, the outcome might have been altogether more violent. Still, I had the letter safe in my pocket and for that I was thankful. I was also inordinately tired. Back in the safety of my bedroom, I stripped off my clothes and sank gratefully onto the mattress, too weary even to pull on my nightshirt. After weeks of ignorance, I had learned so much in a single evening that the only way I could master it was to close my eyes and hope the morning would be a long time coming.
There was a knock at the door. My eyes snapped open, and I lay still as stone under my blankets. Had Blennerhassett reconsidered my excuse and found it wanting, or summoned Tyler and Lyell to interrogate me further? They would not even have to search hard for the letter: it was still inside my coat draped over a chair opposite the bed.
‘Lieutenant Jerrold?’
My fears abated, and in their stead was only fuddled confusion. Was I dreaming? The handle turned, the door edged in a little and the voice came again.
‘Lieutenant Jerrold?’
‘Miss Lyell?’
She stepped into the room. Her hair was loose, tumbling down with unbrushed abandon. A shawl was pulled around her shoulders, but as the door closed she let it drop away. Beneath, she still wore the gown I had seen at dinner. In the darkness, it blended with her skin so absolutely that I could imagine she wore nothing at all.
Clutching the bedsheet around my waist, I stood. As she moved towards me, I could smell woodsmoke in her hair, and sweet wine on her breath. We faced each other, inches away.
‘Has your father sent you?’ I asked, shy of repeating my mistake at the Princeton inn.
She laughed softly. ‘Not this time.’
I leaned towards her, and she came forward to meet me. Our lips touched, and so forceful was her kiss that I lost my footing and swayed back a little. I threw out my arms for balance, and the sheet which covered my modesty dropped away. With a small moan of delight, she took my hands and guided them to the thin straps on her arms. I tugged on them, and felt a thrill of joy as the silk pulled taut over her breasts, then fell to the floor with a whisper of illicit promise. Underneath, she wore neither stays nor petticoats. Her skin was pale, bare and flawless.
With a brazen confidence which surely bespoke experience, she thrust me backwards onto the bed and sprang after me, lithe as a cat. Her hair brushed over my skin, while her mouth and hands teased me with hungry urgency.
Suddenly, unbidden and thoroughly unwanted, an image of Isobel leaped into my thoughts. I shook my head to dislodge her and squeezed my eyes shut; when I opened them again, there was only Miss Lyell rising above me like a vision of Venus. I drew her down towards me, past understanding but alive to a hundred pleasures I had not known in months. There, in the little paradise which the Blennerhassetts had built themselves, I met temptation and embraced it greedily.