Beyond a Doubt(37)

Before the Admiral was righted, soldiers seized Charles Dubois. Gustav led the detachment of soldiers taking him into custody. Charles ranted and raved that they’d found the wrong man.

Jean Broussard rushed to Bryce and his friend. He gave thanks as they were escorted away. Lucy was stuck amidst a wild crowd. Pressed against the stage, she looked as if her eyes would pop from her head.

Bryce escaped from Jean and rushed back to her. He lifted his hands high, and pulled her up alongside him. Soon Jean ushered them both away.

The hurry and mad dash didn’t end until a hackney delivered them all to the Broussard home.

Once everyone settled inside, Lucy’s hands fluttered over Bryce's body, looking for injuries. He smiled at her loving fretting.

He drew Lucy close to his side. She hadn’t taken a step away from him since the incident.

When everyone calmed, the questions began.

“How did you know about the danger?”

“Where did you come from?”

“How did you know I was speaking?”

“Was that the same man who was at the party?”

Bryce expected Lucy to step in with all the answers, but the lass remained silent. When the volley ended, Bryce unlatched the pouch from Lucy’s wrist and handed over the Chinese fan.

Jean took the fan and placed a candle behind it. The words lit up the wall, causing gasps around the room.

“Lucy here is L.L. In Scotland she kind of... confiscated the fan. Then she headed to London to give the note to Joshua, only he perished before she was able. It took a long time to decipher the code and know where to come, but once we figured it all out we tried to meet ye to give ye the message, but at the celebration Dubois showed before we had a chance. The announcement seemed our only option.”

“That was a brave thing you did, jumping in front of that knife.”

The Admiral’s wife added, “You could have been killed.”

They reviewed and discussed everything. Bryce and Lucy were surprised by how much Jean knew.

Satisfied with their answers, Bryce and Lucy were delivered back to the Lombard home. For days cards, messages, and flowers arrived, thanking Lucy. The lass could never go back to being a spy. Her secret identity no longer existed.

Before long, they returned to London. The Lombard home was cleaned and back to normal. As the days went on, Lucy brought back the household staff. The atmosphere calmed and the house became more organized.

They no longer ran away. They no longer had to think about everyone else. Now they could focus on each other.

One day after helping with the horses, Bryce lifted his nose to the air. The smell of the city had grown on him but it wasn’t home. The Highlands called him.

At dinner when grace was said, Lucy had a habit of asking everyone to mention one thing they were thankful for. One evening when it came to Bryce’s turn he knew it was time.

With a room full of people present, he said, “I’m thankful the Lord allowed me to meet and love one such as ye, Lucy Lombard.”

A blush covered Lucy’s face and he almost felt bad for embarrassing her, but he couldn’t be sorry about his love for her. That night when the servants retired for the evening, he asked Lucy if she would like to take a walk.

“In the dark?”

“Nay, in the moonlight.”

She nodded and they set out. Even through her cloak, Bryce could feel her trembling as they walked. They reached a place of privacy. Bryce stopped and spun her around to face him.

He cleared his throat, got down on one knee, and looked at the woman he loved. “Will ye marry me?”





Epilogue




He stood upon a jagged rock. Wind blew gently behind him. White sheep dotting the hillside bleated. He’d been home now for a few months. The sights and smells reminded him of childhood. The clouds reminded him of other times, happier times.

Like the day in the park. The day Lucy had lain at his side and they’d watched the clouds overhead, fantasizing different objects that matched their shape. Now those days were no more.

He remembered the day outside Lucy’s London home. He’d asked for her hand, declared his love, and she’d stood still. After a few moments tears had welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. He remembered telling her, “It’s not all that bad.” But she’d shook her head and run inside.

When he’d found her, she had locked herself in her room. For days she’d refused to see him. Then, red-rimmed and puffy-eyed, she’d walked out of the room and told him no. Bryce had been devastated. He’d saddled his horse and packed his belongings, and set out for home. The trip took no time at all as he’d traveled day and night, trying to escape the pain he felt in his heart.

When he’d reached Cameron lands, Bryce had mentioned nothing of the detour he’d taken. His father immediately had given him land and sheep. A wife was the next on the list but he’d refrained from even the thought; the hurt was still too deep.

Within a few days of his homecoming, Crissy had come to visit. Stomach round with child, she’d glowed with happiness. She had been married for three summers and was expecting her second babe. Nothing had gone according to plan.

Weeks had passed and Bryce assumed the hurt would ease. Then a missive had arrived. Everyone in the keep had feared the worst. Grant was still in Ireland, but on his way home, and he needed assistance. Grant had gone to Ireland to help his younger brother, Samuel. The young man had left his home in Scotland to witness to the Protestants of Ireland.

Bryce and others in the clan had left to assist their future laird. Bryce had only recently returned with Grant and his new family.

The sad news of Samuel Cameron’s passing held the clan in deep mourning.

That day, as Bryce worked the fields and stared at the blue sky, he gathered his courage. A message had arrived at Laird Valan’s home and been delivered to him yester eve. The heavy parchment rested in his sporran.

Sitting down, he pulled out the parchment. Warmed from the closeness of his body, it tickled his nose as he smelled the paper. The scent was familiar. Carefully breaking the seal, he unfolded the pages. The fine script gave him pause. Taking a deep breath, he began to read.

My dearest Bryce,

I hope this letter finds you well and in good health. I know the Highland air is much agreeable to you.

As I pen this missive, I wonder what you’re doing. Are you watching your flock? Are you sitting in front of a toasty fire? Are you alone?

My fervent hope, however selfish it may seem, is that you are indeed alone and miserable. Therefore we will at least be in a similar circumstance.

First off, I must beg your forgiveness. Each time I longed to write you, the words seemed tense. It has taken time for me to explain to myself, much less others.

You must understand that after we arrived back in London, many letters came. Queen Mary publicly wanted to thank me for discovering the plot, but in truth she was concerned for herself. She feared I was spying on her as well. She received me to her chambers and questioned me extensively as to my background and my allegiance. Some soothing was acquired by my French heritage, although not much.

My past activities caused everyone in my association to become suspect. Because of this I couldn’t possibly bind myself to you. If I had, the whole Cameron clan would have been in grave danger.

Although this is the case, I must admit your proposal came as a bit of a shock. I had loved you for some time but was unclear of your feelings for me. However, since my issues with the crown have been resolved and the responsibilities of my position ended, I would like to inquire if the offer still stands?

There the letter abruptly ended. Bryce flung it on the ground and lifted his foot to grind the pages into the mud. Changing his mind, he bent over to pick up the parchment and in his sight were a pair of black, shiny boots. Slowly lifting his head, he saw a long skirt. He stood. Extended to his full height, he dropped his mouth open.

“Does the offer still stand?” asked Lucy.

Before she could change her mind, Bryce scooped her into his arms and charged down the hill to find the minister.

“Aye, it does.”





Author’s Note


By all accounts my story is fiction, but in truth on August 22, 1572, Admiral Gaspard II de Coligny was the object of an assassination attempt. When the attempt failed, all claims that King Henry II of France was involved were denied.

Coligny’s goal was to have a Huguenot colony in Brazil to secure a way to religious freedom for French Protestants.