Dawn on a Distant Shore (32 page)

Behind the governor,
Captain Pickering blanched visibly, but that was a luxury that Elizabeth could
not afford. To show this man panic or even the simplest shred of fear would be to
surrender.

Pickering said,
"My lord, surely you do not wish to take two infants and a young girl out
into such weather, and in the dead of night."

"Of course I do
not," said the governor, never looking at the captain. "You know me
better, Pickering. I have no need for wailing babies. They will stay here in
the care of the Mohawk. I will not keep her long."

Elizabeth let her
expression go as soft and blank as she could make it, but her mind scrambled frantically.
The man thought to shock her into a confession, hoping that she would fumble
and send her men to the gallows in the first flush of fear for her children. He
could not keep her long away; Will would see to it.

She squared her
shoulders and spoke to Bears in Kahnyen'kehâka.

"I will be back
by sunrise. See if you can get word to Will."

Hannah made no sound
but a single tear, scalding hot, fell on Elizabeth's hand.

Elizabeth met the
governor's hooded eyes. "You will permit me to dress, my lord?"

He inclined his head,
all generosity now; he thought she would give in.

In the corner cabin
where the babies slept peacefully, Elizabeth took Hannah by the shoulders.
"I will deal with them and then I will return. Nothing could keep me
away."

Hannah nodded, wiping
her face with the back of her hand. "I will take good care of the babies
until you get back."

Elizabeth ran a hand
over the smooth dark head. "I know that you will."

There was a shuffling
in the main cabin, men's voices raised and then a run of notes on the spinet.
It made her flush with a fine, hot anger. After a moment's hesitation, she went
to the twins' carry basket and rummaged under the covers at one end until she
came up with the sack of gold coin that Will had returned to them this morning.
She would have preferred a musket or a knife, but money was the only weapon
available to her.

Québec had disappeared
into a fog. Elizabeth could tell nothing of the city except that it was at the
top of some cliffs; the coach wound its way up in a corkscrewlike fashion,
jolting and shuddering in the winds and the mudholes. Alone in the coach, she
kept the heavy leather curtains closed, for she did not like the mounted escort
so close by. By the time they had reached the Château St. Louis she had reduced
her handkerchief to a shredded mass, but her face was composed.

The governor had
arrived first, on horseback. A great number of soldiers waited in the
courtyard, clearly discomfited by the cold rain. Elizabeth was chilled to the
bone, too, but she could feel no sympathy for them. If things were to go badly
here, these men would be dispatched to arrest Nathaniel, Hawkeye, and Robbie. The
thought could not be borne, and so she thrust it away from herself.

Elizabeth waited for
the governor in his drafty front hall, low of ceiling andwitha stone floor that
radiated a chill even through the thick carpet. There was only a banked fire in
the hearth, and no sign of a servant. Major Johnson of the King's Own stood off
to one side with his hands crossed at the small of his back, rocking to and fro
on his heels. He smelled of onions and frying liver, his teeth were ivory or perhaps
the bone of some animal, and his distaste for this guard duty was as clear as
the dark stubble on his cheeks.

Elizabeth pulled her
muddied cloak closer around herself and returned his stare. "You are impertinent,
sir."

"And you are a
turncoat, Mrs. Bonner."

"Pardon me, Major
Johnson. I mistook you for a gentleman."

He had the good grace
to flush, but before he could put words to his contempt, the double doors at
the far end of the hall opened, and a small silver-haired lady floated through
with Sir Guy just behind her. She was perfectly dressed and groomed at four in
the morning--for so proclaimed the mantel clock. Elizabeth supposed she must be
used to drama at all hours of the night.

"Mrs. Bonner, my
dear." Her tone was contained and carefully modulated, with the breathy quality
of those women who never quite got over a presentation at court. She had never
been a beauty, her face too round and her complexion too rough for it, but her
eyes snapped with curiosity and intelligence that might be very good or very
bad news for Elizabeth. If Lady Dorchester were to take over the questioning,
she would have a much harder time of it than she would have with the governor.

Her first words put
Elizabeth's concerns to rest.

"Mrs. Bonner.
Welcome to the Château St. Louis, and please may I beg your pardon for the
abominable treatment you've received at my husband's hands. I am Lady
Dorchester. What an outrageous affair, there are no words. No words. Most
disconcerting. I hardly know what to say."

"My dear--"
Sir Guy began, and she turned on him in a cold fury.

"This is Mrs.
Elizabeth Middleton Bonner, Lord Dorchester. Do you hear? Of Oakmere. Lady
Crofton's niece, the one she spoke to me about last spring when we met in Montréal.
And you have dragged her out of her bed, and away from her children--did he
not, my dear? And for what purpose?"

"We are looking
for her husband and his father," said Sir Guy, struggling for his dignity
and not quite succeeding. "You know very well that it is standard procedure
to question suspects alone."

Lady Dorchester gave a
very unladylike snort. "She is a suspect?"

"Her husband
is."

Elizabeth was so
relieved at this unexpected ally that she might have laughed out loud to see
the governor's plans so neatly turned on ear.

"Exactly!"
Lady Dorchester advanced a step toward the governor. "Her husband.
She
has not committed any crime." Her gaze dared him to contradict her.

She took Elizabeth by
the arm. "My dear, we must have patience with them, for they are merely
men, after all. Most excellent men, it is true, but men nonetheless. We will
send you back to the
Isis
, my dear, but first you must have dry boots,
and this cloak--you must be chilled through."

"Lady
Dorchester," Elizabeth began. "Please, a little damp does not bother
me. I am worried about my children."

The tiny woman drew up
in amazement. "Of course you are, my dear. But this damp is not to be trifled
with. It would do no good to send you back as you are to the
Isis
; you
will surely take a chill and then how shall I explain myself to Lady Crofton?
No, you must have dry things. You are of a size with my elder daughter; I am
sure it can be managed quickly." The bright eyes moved to her face.
"You have twins, I understand? When do you expect they will need your
attention? Surely another hour can be spared."

Elizabeth considered
Lady Dorchester's resolute expression, and sighed. She did not wonder that she
had made so fast a friendship with her aunt Merriweather; they were fashioned
of the same strong stuff.

"An hour, Lady
Dorchester. But no more."

The governor was
making distressed noises, little chirps that came up from his chest.

"Sir Guy, do
speak up if you have something to say." Lady Dorchester's tone was more solicitous
now that she had secured Elizabeth's promise.

He scowled. "I
have not had a chance to question this lady! There is a serious matter at stake
here. You have no consideration for my sense of duty, madam!"

Pale fingers fluttered
dismissively around her face. "On the contrary, I am well acquainted with
your sense of duty, Sir Guy. I have been at truce with it now for these many
years. Very well, ask your questions, if you must. I shall return
shortly." She disappeared into the back hallway, calling for servants in a
staccato French that must have carried through the house.

Elizabeth was left
alone with the governor and Major Johnson. She had feared that Sir Guy would be
angry at this complete failure of his scheme to frighten her into a confession,
but there was a thoughtful look about him, as if he were weighing his options.

"Mrs. Bonner, I
should not have brought you here if I had had your cooperation."

It was as close as he
would come to an apology. Elizabeth said, "I am happy to tell you what you
most need to know, sir. And that is this: these men you are looking for are not
spies. They have no interest in politics of any kind."

Major Johnson narrowed
his eyes at her. "And what of their activities during the war?"

Elizabeth managed a
cool smile. "We are not at war now, sir, and they serve no army of any
nation."

"It is true that
we are not at war. At the moment," conceded Sir Guy. "But in my experience,
madam, ladies do not always know their husbands' business."

"Perhaps that is
true in some cases," Elizabeth said. "But not in my own. May I ask
you a question, my lord?"

"If I may ask you
one first and get a truthful answer."

She had put herself in
the trap; she could do nothing more than agree.

Sir Guy said,
"You have never heard your husband, father-in-law, or this Robert MacLachlan
plotting to take part in a new attempt to invade Canada?"

Elizabeth suppressed
her smile and thanked the heavens that his imagination had taken him in the one
direction that she could counter with complete honesty. "My lord, I give
you my oath that I have never heard them mention such an invasion at all, much less
their part in it."

"I have reason to
believe that they are encouraging the Mohawk to move back to New-York and support
the American government against the Crown."

Elizabeth might have
pointed out that this was a second question, but she simply said, "From
this it is clear to me that you know very little about the Mohawk and nothing
about my husband and his father."

Major Johnson grunted,
but the governor maintained his thoughtful expression.

"Are you an
expert on the Mohawk, madam?"

She shook her head.
"That would be a fine conceit, indeed. No, I am not."

"But you
understand them. You speak their language."

She shrugged.
"Imperfectly."

The governor said,
"You are an English lady of good family. Will you not make your home here
in British Canada? If your husband is truly as disinterested in politics as you
claim, then he might as well be on this side of the border, and take up the cause
of his wife's homeland. I would be glad of his assistance with the Indians."

Elizabeth had been
lulled into a sense of relief by Lady Dorchester's intervention in her dilemma,
but now she saw that she had let down her guard too far.

"Sir Guy, I
cannot enter into any such agreement, just as Lady Dorchester would not make arrangements
for your removal from Canada without consulting you."

Something flickered in
his eyes. "But you are mistaken, Mrs. Bonner. I would be immensely
grateful to anyone who would arrange my removal home. The day I am recalled cannot
come soon enough."

There was a tone she
could not quite put a name to: certainly disgust and some good measure of disappointment,
but also a deep weariness.

Lady Dorchester's
quicksilver step sounded close by.

"You promised me
a question, my lord."

He put out a hand,
palm up.

"How did you know
that I came here on the
Nancy
?"

A vague look of
discomfort passed over the smooth features. Then he drew a folded piece of
paper from his breast pocket and, after a moment's hesitation, handed it to
Elizabeth.

The paper was very
fine and scented with musk. An elegant feminine hand but firm, the black ink in
strong lines:

Sir--

It may interest you to
know that Mrs. Elizabeth Bonner is come to Québec aboard the
Nancy
. She
does not travel alone.

  Giselle Somerville

Elizabeth had never
fainted in her life, but she thought now she might. Confusion and fear made her
knees buckle until she found herself sitting on the hall bench, her whole body
covered in a fine sweat. Why would Giselle Somerville do such a thing?

"Are you unwell,
madam?"

She shook her head and
closed her eyes to concentrate, the note clasped hard in her hand. Saw in her
mind the closed door of the captain's quarters, and heard Pickering tell them
again that Miss Somerville had already retired for the night. Giselle
Somerville sent the note to the governor and then she had gone to bed. She wanted
Elizabeth arrested, but why? Out of simple maliciousness? Had she heard of the
plan to bring Elizabeth on board the
Isis
and decided that such a thing
was not to be borne? Giselle--or someone close to Giselle-- wanted Elizabeth
away from the
Isis
. But why? What was to be gained by Elizabeth's absence?