CHAPTER 43

Again Lydia woke, groggy and sore, on the floor of a carriage. She appeared to be making a regular habit of it, she thought ruefully. Pain spiked through her as the carriage jolted through a particularly deep rut. A foul tasting gag made her mouth impossibly dry. Please God, do not let it be Philippe’s loathsome neckerchief.

The carriage pulled up smartly and ceased its jostling, for which Lydia was profoundly grateful. In the sudden hush, she could hear Dr Marshall talking quietly to Philippe.

“It is all very well to foment rebellion in India. But if we can remove Lord Wellesley as well, the English will be in desperate straits. It will take months to get a new Governor-General in place. English strength in India will be broken and while they pour men into the breach, General Bonaparte will strike at their heart with an invasion force.”

“You are brilliant, Monsieur. You have ordered everything perfectly.”

“Well, I had not originally intended an assassination,” said Dr Marshall modestly, “but matters have arranged themselves so nicely it would be a shame to waste such a prime opportunity. When I think of the things that have gone wrong…” He sighed. “In spite of everything things may come out better than I dared hope.”

Energy surged through Lydia. She looked around wildly for Rosalie and found her slumped on the carriage bench behind her. Relief followed on the heels of her fear; the woman had been bound but not gagged. She must have behaved well.

Lydia’s wild gyrations wakened her.

“Dear, you are awake. Are you all right? He didn’t hurt you too badly, did he?” She leaned towards Lydia, but with her hands tied behind her back the impulse to comfort was checked.

Lydia shook her head violently and rubbed her face against the carriage floor in an attempt to dislodge the gag.

“What’s wrong?” asked Rosalie. “You frighten me. What is wrong?”

Outside, a masculine voice hailed Marshall in French. This must be some of the crew from the French sloop. Lydia listened intently and realized from their conversation that they had heaved to in a sheltered cove just north of a village—which village, she could not make out. They were ready to load the throne and escape as soon as the exchange had taken place. Marshall began to discuss his plans with the men, but he must have been moving away. The sounds grew fainter until they were inaudible.

Lydia prayed fervently for help and continued to struggle with her bonds. There was no give at all in the ropes. She must warn someone of the trap.

Marshall returned and opened the carriage door. “They should be here any moment. Shall we set the stage?” He lifted Rosalie from the carriage and then turned back. “Do not try my patience, Miss Garrett. You have irritated me and I will kill you if you give me the slightest bit of trouble. Do you understand?”

Lydia nodded mutely, trying to look docile—which was not difficult given that she was bound and gagged. He pulled her from the carriage and stood her beside Mrs Adkins.

“Come along now, ladies. We must make sure you are displayed to best advantage.”

Lydia’s gaze swept the scene wildly. Thankfully, the night was clear, with a bright moon illuminating the landscape. They were in the ruins of some sort of building. Fantastical carvings covered every remaining surface. It must be some sort of temple.

Dr Marshall led them into a wide courtyard in the centre of the structure. He positioned Mrs Adkins with Philippe in the shadows at one side and dragged Lydia, stumbling along behind him, to the other.

Lydia could hear the rattle and slide of rocks as men took up their positions around the courtyard. A long, tense silence ensued. Lydia frantically worried the knots that bound her hands behind her back. She thought they gave way a little, but she was by no means certain: her fingers had grown numb and she feared testing the notion. It was imperative not to give away what she was doing. Without doubt Marshall would keep his promise if she provoked him.

A hail from one of the lookouts caused everyone to jump. “They’re coming.”

Anthony surveyed the temple as they approached. “This is a godforsaken spot if ever I saw one.”

“Kali is a Hindu goddess associated with death and change. Her followers once performed horrible human sacrifices here,” said Lord Wellesley.

“Then I am even more correct than I supposed.”

They lapsed into silence as they drew nearer. No one approached and they saw no one as they pulled in front of the temple.

“Perhaps we ought to drive through those arches. It looks as if there might be an inner courtyard,” said Anthony.

Lord Wellesley nodded and flicked the reins. They rumbled slowly through the arches, which formed a short tunnel, until they came to the central courtyard.

A man stepped from the shadows, pushing Mrs Adkins forward with him. “I see you followed my instructions,” he said in a French accent. “Please step away from the throne. I must warn you, gentlemen, not to try anything dangerous—you are surrounded by my men.”

Lord Wellesley and Anthony climbed from their seats, taking care to appear non-threatening. Anthony’s every sense was attuned to the slight rustlings as the men surrounding them shifted their weight and fidgeted.

“Have they hurt you, my dear?” called Lord Wellesley.

“No, darling, but I think Miss Garrett may be rather badly injured,” she answered before her captor jerked her arm and she subsided.

Anthony’s hand reached for a sword that was not there. “Where is Marshall? We know he is behind this. Is he even more of a coward than we imagined?”

“Bravo.” Marshall stepped from the shadows behind them. “I had hoped to keep my identity secure, but it is no matter. The coup d’état has been accomplished.”

Anthony spun round to face Marshall. His heart gave a wrench when he saw Lydia with the man. One eye looked swollen and puffy, and her mouth had been tied so tightly shut, he could see where the bonds bit into her flesh. Still, she could stand on her own. He took comfort in the hope that no permanent injury had been done.

“You have been pitifully sloppy, Marshall. The little corporal will not be pleased. You didn’t accomplish any of the things you desired. You may have the throne, but it will do you no good.”

“Wrong as usual, Danbury. I have accomplished even more than I first hoped. It will be interesting to see what happens to India when there is no English leader in place.” Marshall raised the pistol he had been holding casually at his side and pointed it directly at Lord Wellesley.