Mags was released by the doctor at the end of a week on the condition that she rest for at least another two. She and Will settled in together, and Mrs. Ryan came to look in on her when Will was on duty.
She had not made any efforts to remember while in the doctor’s care. Her head had hurt too much and her waking moments had been clouded with the laudanum he had given her for the pain. But now that the headaches were almost gone, she tried, unsuccessfully, to summon up the face of her assailant.
“I could be walking right past him, Will, and never know it,” she said one night.
“Now, Mags, I don’t want you making yourself sick trying to remember. One of the French deserters disappeared a few days after it happened and Captain Grant thinks that he was likely the villain.”
Mags sighed with relief. “I am happy to hear he is gone, but what about the officers? I can’t remember if I found anything or not,” she added with a pained frown.
“The doctor said it may come back to you. Now lie down and get some rest.”
“There’s something else I am needing besides rest, Will Tallman. You haven’t touched me since I’m home.”
“Now how could I, and you still weak?”
“I am feeling so much better, Will,” Mags whispered as she pulled him down next to her.
“Are you, Mags?” he said as he stroked the curve of her breast and pulled the blankets over both of them.
* * * *
Mags swore it was their lovemaking that was responsible. She had awakened the next morning and, glancing over at the small table that Will used for a washstand, she saw a few pieces of paper lying next to his razor and it all came back. Or almost all. She remembered leaving Stanton’s tent and the sense that someone had been lurking, but the memory of the actual attack still eluded her.
“You must get Lieutenant Aston,” she told Will.
“I will, Mags, so long as you promise not to be talking of intimate things. I don’t mind hearing that my knowing how to pleasure a woman brought your memory back, but you don’t need to go spreading the news around!” he added with a sheepish smile.
When Val arrived, Mags was sitting in front of Will’s tent, brewing coffee in an old tin pot.
“Shouldn’t you still be in bed, Mrs. Tallman?” he scolded.
“I am feeling much better, Lieutenant, as I am sure Will told you,” she added with a gleam of mischief in her eye.
“He told me that your memory has returned.”
“Much of it, Lieutenant.”
Val looked around, but they seemed to be alone and safe from anyone overhearing. “Tell me what you remember, Mrs. Tallman.”
“I had gone to Lieutenant Trowbridge’s tent first and I was just leaving Lieutenant Stanton’s when it happened.”
“Then you never got to Lord Wimborne’s?”
“No, not that I recall.”
Val looked thoughtful. “Then the likelihood is the attack was because of something you might have seen in one of the others’.”
“Or to keep her from getting to the marquess’s tent,” said Will.
“I suppose so. What did you find in the others’ quarters?”
“There was a letter from Lieutenant Trowbridge’s brother on the ground next to his cot. Nothing but news about the latest prizefight, I am afraid.”
“And Lord Stanton’s?”
Mags frowned and closed her eyes, trying to picture things accurately. “There were three letters on his table. I remember I was being careful to fold them up just the way they had been. He’s a very orderly man, is Lord Stanton.”
“Can you remember what was in the letters?”
“One was from his mother,” Mags hesitated. “There was something in one of them, Lieutenant. Just wait a minute and it will come to me.”
Val sat there, praying that it would be the conclusive evident they needed, and when Mags put her cup down with a satisfied grin and said “Aye, now I can see it as clear as if I was standing there,” he had a hard time not jumping up and throwing his arms around her.
“He had a letter from an old school friend. The man was congratulating him on squeezing someone.”
“ ‘Squeezing’ someone?”
“For something that was a capital offense.”
“Do you mean to say that Lord Stanton is blackmailing someone?”
“Yes, and it was clear it was another old schoolmate.”
Val rubbed his eyes. “Do you remember anything in any letters about the political situation at home, Mags?”
“Nothing more than what we all know, sir. But I thought it was interesting, the ‘squeezing’ part,” she added hopefully.
“But you never got to James’s tent?”
“No, sir. I thought I heard something in the back of Lieutenant Stanton’s tent, but I figured it was a small animal. I went out and looked around me, I think.” Mags closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant, I can’t remember anything else.”
“Now, Mags, don’t strain yourself,” said Will, putting a hand on her shoulder.
Val sat quietly, trying to make sense of what he had heard.
“Whoever attacked you saw you coming out of Stanton’s tent.”
“I am sure of it, sir.”
“Perhaps you missed a letter?”
“I might have done so, sir. I suppose he might have hid one. Of course, like Will said, whoever was watching might have been trying to keep me from the marquess’s tent,” she added thoughtfully. “Not that he could ever be the traitor, Lieutenant.”
“A capital offense, the letter said?”
“Squeezing him for it.”
Val’s face lightened. “You know, Mrs. Tallman, much as I would like the villain to be Lucas Stanton, it may be you have solved this for us.”
Mags’s face lit up. “But how, sir?”
“George Trowbridge is Stanton’s old schoolfellow. And treason is a capital offense. It just may be Stanton is blackmailing him.”
“And Stanton not reporting it?”
“Yes, and that makes him as much of a traitor.”
“But Lieutenant Trowbridge is so….”
“Stupid?”
“Well, I hate to be the one to say it, but he is a bit dim, sir.”
“He doesn’t have to do much. Just pass on information.”
* * * *
“But there was nothing much in his letters,” Mags protested.
“No, but perhaps he had the information hidden somewhere else. Thank you, Mrs. Tallman. We will watch both of them carefully.”
“Well, I am feeling better, sir, for I have been thinking myself a very poor spy indeed.”
“Nonsense, Mrs. Tallman. You were a good soldier.”
“I’ll be back at my laundering in a week or so, Lieutenant.”
“You are not getting involved again, Mags,” protested Will.
“I could keep on looking, Lieutenant Aston.”
“No, you can’t ask that of her, sir, not after such a beating.”
“I won’t, Will, don’t worry,” Val reassured him. “I am sorry, Mrs. Tallman, but you are a retired spy,” Val told her with a smile. “Captain Grant will have someone watch Stanton and Trowbridge coming and going. We don’t want to risk you again.”
“But there was nothing in either of their letters about the government?” asked Grant when Val reported Mags’s news.
“No, but it is possible it had been hidden or destroyed.”
Grant frowned. “It is possible, Lieutenant. It is possible that you want Stanton to be the traitor a little too much. He could very well be blackmailing someone at home for something completely different.”
“But the writer of the letter called it a capital offense, sir. While there are all too many of these, I cannot imagine Lucas Stanton blackmailing someone for stealing a sheep, sir.”
Captain Grant smiled. “I suppose you are right. There is then a strong possibility that George is our traitor and Stanton is using this for his own advantage.”
“Which makes him a traitor too. I think we should have them both watched, sir.”
“I will see to it, Lieutenant. I must admit I am glad we have something pointing us in a direction other than Lord Wimborne.”
“I would vouch for James’s loyalty to his country with my life, sir,” Val declared.
“And I for your loyalty to a friend, Valentine,” Colquhoun Grant murmured after Val left.
* * * *
“You are looking very pleased with yourself, Val,” said Charlie after he encountered his brother outside of Grant’s tent.
Val turned and gave Charlie one of his rare open smiles. “I have not done anything, Charlie. Mrs. Tallman has.”
Charlie looked at him with a questioning frown.
“Come, let us walk out of camp a ways,” said Val and they took the path to the village. “May I rely on your discretion, Charlie?”
Charlie grinned. Whenever Val got serious, he sounded so like the earl that anyone would have known them for father and son.
“This is not a laughing matter, Charlie.”
“Of course not.”
“Mrs. Tallman was not attacked for her laundry money, Charlie. She was attacked because she was spying for us.”
That wiped the smile from Charlie’s face.
“Someone is getting word to Massena about the political crisis at home. It is why he has dug himself in, despite the lack of food and the illness plaguing his troops.”
“He’s hoping the proposed Regency will mean the Opposition will pull Wellington out of Portugal?”
“Exactly.”
“Do you have any ideas who would be passing on such information?”
“We have three suspects: George Trowbridge, Lucas Stanton, and James Lambert.”
“James!”
“That is why I am so pleased, Charlie, I knew it was ridiculous to suspect him, but anyone who had connections in Whitehall had to be considered. But Mrs. Tallman found us something that points in the direction of George Trowbridge.”
“George is a hen-wit, Val.”
“Admittedly,” Val replied with a grin. “But he doesn’t need much in his upper story merely to pass on information.”
“What evidence do you have?”
“Mrs. Tallman discovered a letter in Stanton’s tent that indicates he is blackmailing an old schoolfellow over a capital offense. We think he is on to George and making money off his treason. So James is cleared.”
“Well, not precisely, Val,” Charlie said hesitantly.
“You can’t consider James capable of this?”
“No, but there might be another schoolfellow in England.”
“That would be too much of a coincidence, Charlie. If Mags hadn’t been attacked…. But she was, and right after coming out of Stanton’s tent.”
“There are other capital offenses beside treason, Val,” Charlie said thoughtfully.
“Too many to count,” said Val, smiling at his brother.
“Unfortunately that is true,” said Charlie. “Well, if you are right,” he continued, “then Mrs. Tallman deserves a medal.”
They had reached the top of the hill overlooking the village and, since it was a sunny day, sat down on the rocks. “Your troops are looking good, Charlie.”
“I feel lucky to be here, working with men and horses.”
“You are inspired with horses, Charlie. If you do as well with your men, you will have a crack troop.”
“Thank you, Val,” Charlie replied with a pleased blush. “I can’t wait to see how they do in their first battle.”
“Don’t be so eager for that, little brother.”
“Is it so awful, then?”
“I have only seen the one and that was awful enough.”
“Well, it is what we are here for.”
“Indeed it is. But don’t be too eager to rush into the middle of the enemy. I would hate to lose you,” said Val, keeping his tone light.
“Or I, you,” replied Charlie. Their glances met for a moment and then both lowered their eyes in embarrassment at the strong emotion revealed there.
* * * *
Later, when he was sitting in front of his mirror, unbuttoning his stock, Charlie thought about what Val had told him. He despised Lucas Stanton as much as his brother did. His feelings about George were not as strong, but he certainly could believe him weak enough to consider passing on information.
And James? Like Val, he would have thought any suspicion against him ridiculous. It was interesting, however, that the thought had never occurred to his brother that James was also an old schoolfellow. And Val seemed unaware that there was a capital offense aside from treason that James might be blackmailed for.