The Secret Life of Miss Mary Bennet, Katherine Cowley [books successful people read .TXT] 📗

“Well, fortunately I am spending the night, so we will be able to analyze them thoroughly in the morning.”

Mary bit her lip. “Can you spare me just one moment right now?”

“Anything for you, Miss Bennet. Though it cannot be for too long—I do not wish to keep my next dance partner waiting.” She sighed. “Well, first I danced with…”

Withrow’s eyes passed around everyone in the room, lingering for a moment on Monsieur Corneau. Then Withrow slipped away. She decided to wait and follow the Frenchman.

Mary smiled at whatever Miss Tagore was saying. She turned so she was not really watching Monsieur Corneau but would be able to see when he left the room. After a minute he did.

“It would be best if I did not keep you from your partner any longer.”

Miss Tagore tilted her head to the side. “Of course.”

Mary walked after Monsieur Corneau. He did not go back upstairs to the ballroom or Mr. Withrow’s room, but instead entered the sitting room next to the library.

She followed quietly and heard something—perhaps a door. She rushed into the room and saw that the door to the lawn had just closed. She inched it open and was hit by bitterly cold air. She was not even wearing a shawl, but she followed him out onto the back lawn.

He strode rapidly across the frosty grass, away from the lights shining out of the house and towards the Roundel. He carried no candle, and neither did Mary, so it was almost impossible to see him, and even harder not to trip.

As she neared the circular grove of trees, she slowed. She did not want to be seen. She walked as quietly as she could, listening for the voices of Corneau and Withrow. She secreted herself behind a tree at the perimeter of the Roundel where she could hear them clearly.

“I thought we would never escape,” said Corneau.

“Did anyone follow?” asked a voice that did not sound like Withrow, yet was also familiar.

“No,” said Corneau.

“Where could Miss Bennet have heard about the boat?” asked the other voice, and to Mary’s surprise, she realized it belonged to Colonel Radcliffe.

“She has observed a few useful things for me, at my request, but I do not believe she could have discovered your boat on her own.”

“She was a most disagreeable dance partner,” said Radcliffe. In her opinion, he had been the disagreeable one. “Maybe she heard something from Trafford or Withrow, but I do not know how they would know.”

“Withrow claims to be sympathetic to our cause. He attempted to convince me to let him attend one of my meetings.”

“I hope you did not agree,” said Radcliffe sharply.

“Of course not,” said Corneau.

“Good. I do not trust him, or that he would stand with us, no matter what he says.”

There was a minute of silence, and Mary worried that they would return to the house and see her on their way. Her heart raced and her teeth chattered so loudly that she feared they would hear her. She clamped her lips shut but tried to keep her upper teeth apart from her lower ones.

“The news in the papers makes our position seem bleak,” said Colonel Radcliffe.

“If you read the English papers, yes. It is in their interest to make it seem like their victory is close. However, while there have been setbacks, the Imperial Army is still strong. The emperor needs only one grand victory and then it will be easy for him to gain new recruits and double the size of his army.” There was a pause. “His troops are approaching Switzerland. They can no longer remain neutral. That is one front where victory could occur. But many of us believe that here would be better. Consider the statement it would make.”

“When you deem that the time is right,” said Colonel Radcliffe, “my boat is available to send word to Napoleon.”

“That is good,” said the Frenchman. “You should also attend our next meeting.”

“It is too dangerous. But I will give you more funds.” Another pause. “I have found the perfect spot for Napoleon’s troops to land without being detected.”

Goosebumps covered Mary’s arms, and a chill reached her heart. Corneau and Radcliffe’s words were nothing less than treason.

Chapter Nineteen

“Bonaparte took exactly twelve years to rise to a height, from which twelve months have been sufficient to precipitate him. In 1799 he was installed First Consul; in 1802 appointed Consul for life; in 1804 Emperor of France; and in 1812, with almost all Europe at his feet, he began that declension at Moscow, which, in 1813, was completed at Leipzic.”

–The Morning Chronicle, London, December 3, 1813

Mary stood very still, realizing, only now, the complete folly of the place where she had chosen to hide. Hiding behind a tree was not in itself a problem, but rather, the fact that she had chosen a tree on this side of the Roundel, so close to them. If she moved, the two men would discover her. If she stayed, the two men would walk directly past her in order to return to the castle. If these men were willing to betray all of England, if they were willing to invite an invasion which would cause death and destruction, they would have no qualms in eliminating one maiden who stood in their way. Furthermore, Colonel Radcliffe was a former soldier; he would know how to kill.

Mary pressed herself against the tree, as much as she was able while wearing this dress. In this, her choice of the old green gown was better than the new, much fuller gown Fanny had made.

“When our plans come to fruition,” said Corneau, “you will be well rewarded for your efforts.”

“It is not for money or power that I do this,” said Radcliffe.

“Of course not,” said Corneau. “But if you receive them as happy side effects, you will not complain, no?”

“I suppose not.”

There was a rustling. Footsteps. Mary closed her eyes, certain she would be discovered and not wanting to see