Page 35 of Hold Me Fast
Tamsyn opened her mouth, but Prue spoke first. “As to your other concern, our house is well guarded and we and our children travel with armed guards, some in plain view and some not. We rather hope there is an attack, for we shall catch the attackers and perhaps follow the trail back to Coombe, which would be the best possible outcome.”
Jowan could see by Tamsyn’s face that she was still worried about Coombe. She said nothing further, but he had a concern of his own. “They would not have followed you, would they?”
Prue’s look was reminiscent of a governess attempting not to laugh at a silly question, but David said, “We were not followed. We did not leave our house by carriage or as ourselves, and we had people checking for trackers.” He chuckled. “We will have the carriage drop us off directly at our house though. Let the watchers explain that to Coombe.”
He sobered. “I have a full report which I will leave with you, Jowan, but the short form is that Coombe has been overreaching himself, inveigling the sons of the aristocracy into his web. At least a dozen peers have sons or nephews who fell into or just avoided Coombe’s toils on the Continent, and he has made two failed attempts and begun grooming another two young men since he returned to England.”
He handed what must be the report to Jowan. “We haven’t definitive evidence of anything illegal, though many of his tactics skirt the edges and are at least immoral. But if we cannot get him on breaking the law, we probably have a large enough group of annoyed parents to force him offshore again.”
Jowan wasn’t satisfied with the idea of letting the man go. “He must have broken the law. He is too immoral and too arrogant not to.”
“Look at singers or musicians who died unexpectedly, or who disappeared,” Tamsyn suggested. “I can give you names and approximate dates.”
Everyone in the room turned to stare at Tamsyn, Jowan with dawning horror as he realized how frightened Tamsyn must have been over the years. With no one else to turn to, and the knowledge that people who displeased Coombe ended up dead, what could she do except disappear into the false dreams of the poppy and other substances?
How strong she must be to have survived.
*
When Tammie hadanswered all his questions, Wakefield was bluntly honest. “I’ll do my best, Miss Lind. But I am not hopeful. It will be next to impossible to prove Coombe guilty of any of the disappearances that happened in Europe or even farther abroad, and the flutist who died shortly before he took you overseas was six years ago. I’ll check the coroner’s report and follow up with witnesses. Perhaps we will be lucky.”
But more likely they would not. That was what he was really saying. Tammie was not surprised. Guy seemed to live a charmed life.
“One point worth considering is whether Coombe thought the evidence might point to him,” said Mrs. Wakefield. “After all, you say this was shortly before you left for overseas. Odd to go on a concert tour in the middle of a war. Was it a trip he had planned for some time, do you know?”
“No,” Tammie replied. “No, it was not. One day he was talking about funding an opera at the Royal, and the next, my maid was told to pack my bag, for we were leaving.”
“Interesting,” Wakefield commented. “We might find something after all.”
I trust you have finished with my patient,” Evangeline interjected. “She is almost asleep on her feet.”
It was true. She was tired. How lovely to be tired when she knew she would be able to sleep and would wake refreshed!
Wakefield and his wife apologized. “We should have remembered that you are convalescing, Miss Lind,” Mrs. Wakefield said. “I hope we have not caused a setback.”
“Not at all,” Tammie assured them. “I am ready for sleep, but I am better every day. Am I not, Evangeline?”
“Ask me again in three more days,” Evangeline replied dryly.
*
The juice ofthe poppy kept one from having to face unpalatable facts. Or liquor would do, at a pinch. Tammie was not going to admit to the wonderful people who had seen her through the torment of the past fortnight that she still yearned for peace, the freedom from care. It was a false freedom, and she was determined not to succumb again.
However, being faced with a future in which no one else made her choices for her had its negative sides, too. Apparently, Prue Wakefield had asked if she wanted to return to Cornwall, and she had said yes. Since the day she woke without a fever, everyone must have assumed that was the plan. Until this morning, six days later.
It came up for discussion at breakfast. “Are we going to be able to leave tomorrow, as planned?” Bran asked Evangeline.
“I see no reason why not,” the nurse replied. “As long as we travel at an easy pace. Tammie’s health is much improved.”
“Six days on the road,” Jowan suggested. “Six to seven hours a day with a long stop in the middle of the day. Will that do, Evangeline? And a longer stop if Tammie needs it. You do still want to go to Cornwall, Tammie, do you not?”
More than anything.“Yes, I do,” Tammie said. It was only then she realized that what she wanted was to go back to the Cornwall of seven years ago, and the Tamsyn who existed then. Cornwall would have moved on, just as Jowan had.
In the last six days, she had been watching him. He was not the boy she remembered. It was not just that he was a grown man. The seven years had changed him. For a start, he had the same easy friendship with his half-brother that he had had, in her memory at least, with her. He was also the baronet, and that meant he had work to do.
Important work on which other people’s livelihoods depended. The work didn’t stop because he was in hiding. He had given his stewards and managers Wakefield’s address, and messengers from Wakefield arrived every other day, bringing him letters and reports and documents to review, and taking away his answers to the previous dispatches.
Bran was fully in his confidence, and acted as his secretary, his sounding board, and, at times, his adversary, forcing him to fully articulate the reasons he was leaning towards a particular decision. Robust discussions would leave the room they had adopted as their office and carry on through meals and into the evening, so Evangeline and Tammie were spectators to their debates. Sometimes, Bran would change Jowan’s mind. Sometimes, Jowan would change Bran’s.
