From Milner he discovered that Gabby was driving to Lymington in the chaise on Thursday evening. Gabby told him she was taking a fishing boat to France from Lymington quay. Jake knew that fishing boats had decks with coils of rope and nets, and usually they had a cabin. He would find somewhere to hide, he was sure. The chaise had a narrow ledge at theback and astrap for a spare groom to hang on to, but therewouldn't be a groom on the short journey to Lymington. Thepros pect of clinging up there himself made him feel rather sick, but it didn't dent his purpose in the least.
From Primmy and Nurse, he learned that his father was leaving on the same day and expected to be away for several weeks. If his father was away, Jake couldn't see how he'd discover that Jake had gone until he came back, so there'd be nobody to chase him even when his disappearance was discovered. And that wouldn't be until the morning, when Nurse came to wake him up. And once they reached France, Gabby would look after him. His mind couldn't stretch beyond that immediate goal, and he was untroubled by speculation on the future.
Gabrielle was puzzled by the suppressed excitement she felt in the child. She'd expected him to be unhappy, cross even, blaming her for leaving him. But in stead his eyes were unnaturally bright and he giggled ina most unJakelike fashion,and he seemed hard pressed to put a coherent sentence together.Primmy commented on it too, and Mr. Jeffrys complained at length to his employer about his pupil's general inattentiveness.
Nathaniel heard the complaint in frowning silence, then delivered the acerbic comment that he'd assumed a tutor to whom he paid the princely sum of one hundred pounds a quarter would know how to command the attention of a six-year-old.
A chagrined Mr. Jeffrys left the library, and Gabrielle observed from her secluded fireside corner, "Much as I enjoy his discomfiture, I hope he doesn't take his mortification out on Jake in the interests of gaining his attention."
"Jeffrys knows exactly what I will and will not permit," Nathaniel said shortly.
"And how are you to know if he doesn't keep within those boundaries?" she inquired. "I don't see Jake telling you, do you?"
Nathaniel ran his hands through his hair in a gesture of frustration. "Idon't know why he wouldn't. Igive him plenty of opportunity to talk to me."
Gabrielle shook her head but said nothing. It was too late now for her opinions. They hadn't been accepted before, and there was no reason to believe that a flash of insight would illuminate the eve of departure and bring forth a change of heart.
Nathaniel had made all the arrangements for her journey and given her the details calmly and efficiently, as if he weren't describing the way she would walk out of his life forever. Gabrielle had responded in the same fashion. They were pleasant and polite to each other; they made love, but the spark was missing. Gabrielle supposed it eased the prospect of parting. One withdrew from addiction by slow steps. But it also felt soulless, almost as if they were determined now to negate the strength of what they'd shared.
They dined early on the Thursday evening and Gabrielle went up to say good-bye to Jake. The little boy was sitting up in bed, unusually pale, but his brown eyes had an almost febrile glitter to them. Gabrielle felt his forehead as she kissed him. He was warm but not feverish. Most unusually, he didn't seem to want her to stay. Instead of prolonging the visit in his customary fashion with questions, requests for another story, or endless narratives with neither beginning nor end, he docilely accepted her good-bye kiss and said good night, snuggling down almost before she'd left the nursery.
It was a relief, of course. She'd been dreading tears and recriminations. But it was still a little hurtful to think how quickly one could be dismissed by both father and son.
"Are you ready?" Nathaniel came into her apartments just before nine o'clock. "The tide's full at eleven o'clock and you have to catch it."
"Yes, I'm ready." She looked up from the jewel casket she was closing and blinked in surprise. Nathaniel was wearing boots and britches, a plain white linen shirt open at the neck with a scarf knotted carelessly at his throat. He had a cloak slung over one arm and leather gauntlets held in one hand.
"That's a very serviceable dress," she commented. "Are you intending to travel all night?"
"It might be necessary," he replied in the tone that she'd learned prohibited further inquiry. "Has Bartram taken your traps to the chaise?"
"Yes, and I've said good-bye to Ellie and Mrs. Bailey."
"Then let's go."
There was a lump in Gabrielle's throat as she followed him downstairs. She couldn't understand why she wasn't excited, triumphant at the success of her plan. She had the spymaster where she wanted him. But she was aware only of a bleak depression and a deep and irrational hurt. She wanted Nathaniel to be as regretful at their parting as she was, and he patently wasn't.
Nathaniel handed her into the chaise waiting at the door and climbed in after her, first checking that the luggage was properly stowed on the roof. He knocked on the panel, the coachman clicked his whip, and the carriage moved down the long drive.
At the bottom of the drive they stopped while the gatekeeper opened the gate for them. A small figure crept out of the bushes and clambered onto the narrow ledge, standing on tiptoe to seize the leather strap, pressing his slight body against the back of the coach as it rattled through the gate and down the lane. The gatekeeper closed the gate after them, muttering to himself as his rheumaticky hands fumbled with the heavy iron bar. He was shortsighted and it was a dark night. If he discerned a darker shadow against the rear panels of the coach as it swayed down the road, he thought nothing of it.
Gabrielle tried to think of some topic of conversation, something to break the silence. But there'd only ever been one acceptable topic of conversation, and it was hardly appropriate at this juncture. Although the last time they'd traveled in the coach, on the way from Vanbrugh Court, it had been more than appropriate…
Nathaniel sat back against the squabs, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes hooded as he watched her face in the shifting shadows of the coach. She wasn't happy about this mission; in fact, if asked, he would have said she was downright depressed. As indeed he would be if he believed they were about to part ways. Not even her treachery, it seemed, could destroy his passion for her. There was some level on which they were totally compatible, and in his more detached moments it struck him as the most damnable twist of fate that they should find themselves on opposite sides in the dirty war they fought. They would have made the most amazing partners if they shared the same goals and the same loyalties.
Instead, they were bitterest enemies, each out to manipulate and betray the other. And in his heart he knew that even if he won, as he intended to, they would still both be losers.
In half an hour the chaise clattered across the cobbles at the Lymington quay. Lamplight poured out from the Black Swan Inn as inebriated fishermen staggered out, yelling, cursing, and singing. Most made their way to the fleet of boats tied up at the quay, leaping on decks with a dexterity that belied the effects of carousing. But time and tide made no concessions when a man's livelihood came from the sea.
Jake slipped to the cobbles and darted behind a coil of tarred rope. In the general melee no one noticed a small boy in nankeen britches and a knitted blue jersey. He watched as the coachman snapped his fingers at one of the inn's ostlers lounging against the timbered wall of the inn with a pipe in his hand. The man shook out the pipe and sauntered across. Money changed hands, and between them the ostler and coachman unloaded the bags from the roof of the chaise. They took them to a relatively large fishing boat at the far end of the quay. A man standing in the stern greeted them with a hail and gestured that they should come aboard.