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  “I will return to the inn by noon, Auntie. I need to be at the lock when the stern half of the vessel arrives.”

  Roberta stayed with the tow for perhaps a quarter of a mile, when the pain resumed and she felt blood trickling down her leg. Luckily she was walking alone beside the tractor at the time and found a low brick wall to stand behind.

  Some years ago, one of the girls at Miss Mather’s Academy had related the loss of her own mother in the care of a drunken midwife. Her most vivid memories were of the amount of blood everywhere. Roberta noted that her own little trickle was nothing like that description. She must not make too much fuss and upset her aunt for nothing. Only the poor mite was in peril, she thought as she wiped an unbidden tear from her cheek.

  When the bow of the vessel came past, she called out to the foreman in charge of the work crew, “I have to return to the entrance lock, Mister Richardson. Keep going as you are and you may expect me to catch up to you before dark.”

  “Aye, M’Lady. We has it.”

  Roberta hurried back to the canal offices and then joined Aunt Nelly in the parlour of the inn.

  Aunt Nelly saw Roberta’s distress at once. “I has a room fer ye. Come upstairs at once.” In the room, they removed Roberta’s dress and washed away the bloodstains. Aunt Nelly fretted the whole time. “Ye needs to see a physician.”

  “I will . . . as soon as I have both halves of the vessel started on their canal journey.”

  “Ye needs ta’ see him now. Oh, if I were only a married woman an’ knew the signs.”

  “Send for Doctor McCall, and I will see him here. I am not getting the pains as often. Do you think it is a miscarriage?”

  Aunt Nelly stared. “’Tis like what I’ve heard . . . I think. Ye must tak’ to yer bed.”

  “Impossible. Send a lad to fetch the doctor, and I will come to this room to see him. Now I must put the dress back on and make ready for the second tow. What about the petticoat? Can you have it dry for this afternoon?”

  “I will see what I can do with yon maids. Ye must come straight back here if the cramps starts again.”

  The second half of the spiteful arrived within a half hour of the time the tug’s master had predicted. It took every bit as much coaxing and fussing to line up on the entry lock as the first, and then the slightly smaller agricultural traction engine needed to stand awhile building up more steam before getting its tow fully within the lock so the gates would close. Roberta had just enough time to see the hulk proceeding smoothly down the first section of canal before the message came for her to meet the physician at the inn.

  Doctor McCall wanted to know how long she had been married and whether she had had regular menses before this. “How much blood have you passed, My Lady? How long have you been married? When was the last time you and your husband . . . cohabited?”

  Roberta answered all his questions and then submitted to his investigations. At length he turned to her. “I am afraid I have bad news for you. I feel sure you were with child, but are in the process of losing the fetus. You should rest for a day or two to ensure the process proceeds normally; if there is no trouble, it should be little different than a regular menses. It should not interfere in any way from your becoming pregnant again.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  “Your aunt tells me that you are engaged in some strenuous activity here at the canal. It needs to stop.”

  She gave a heavy sigh. “I have a vessel negotiating the waterway, Doctor. I must be on hand to advise if my crews have difficulty.” She stared at his frown. How could she convince him? They could damage the ship or even the canal if something went wrong. She had no choice in this.

  “Do you have no overseer of the male gender?”

  “Not at the moment. The two men in charge have never done this before. I am sure they will be completely proficient for the passage of the next hull, but this move is my responsibility.”

  “You also have the responsibility of ensuring your own health is not impaired. You should rest here tonight and let me see you again in the morning.”

  “I have to journey to Grangemouth tomorrow to be ready to receive the tows and see them properly aligned in the graving dock there.”

  “You make such a journey against my advice. Stay here until you are completely recovered, My Lady. Where is your husband? Can I appeal to him to restrain your unwise activity?”

  “He is still in Devon, I believe. If you can examine me before noon, I will wait for the canal passenger barge. It will be slower but much smoother than a carriage.”

  “Very well. Please do not leave before I can be sure there are no complications.”

  Doctor McCall had a lengthy conversation with Aunt Nelly before he left, giving her instructions what he wanted done if Roberta had more cramps or more flow. Roberta waited in bed until he had left before getting up. She must, at least, catch up to the second crew and tell them she would follow them to Grangemouth in the morning.

  Aunt Nelly thought otherwise and brought the full power of the doctor’s instructions to back up her authority. “I will send a lad with the messages . . . if you will write them. They’re grown men fer heaven’s sakes. If they canna do what’s needed they’selves, I’m sure an invalid canna help them.”

  “Hush, Aunty. I am no invalid. I will attend to my ships if I am needed. There it is, I am decided―” But her argument was sabotaged by the onset of a new sequence of cramps.

  Aunt Nelly would not back down. “Ye must nae do anything more today. But perhaps I will allow ye one more message. Ye must send word to Miss Elizabeth to tak’ yure place with this canal business.”

  “I cannot, she has only just started on boiler tests.”

  “Then t’ boiler tests must wait fur the canal work. You are not leavin’ here for Grangemouth until Doctor McCall has said you be well enough. Elizabeth can take your place until then.”

  Roberta knew when her aunt’s stubbornness had entrenched itself. She penned instructions for the foremen in the canal and then briefly outlined what she needed Elizabeth to do, and why. Then she let Aunt Nelly put her back to bed; there was little more she could do that afternoon.

  Roberta did not catch up to her vessel until its two components were anchored at the east end of the canal. She and Elizabeth took a small boat out to check them over and found they had suffered no more than a few dents and scrapes.

  They went to see the management of the graving dock and found the owner a very capable and energetic man who took it upon himself to supervise the transfer of the tows to his dock and patiently accepted her advice as he aligned the two halves of the spiteful to be fishplated and riveted together. By the time the Grangemouth work was done Roberta had gained complete confidence in him, and not only sent Elizabeth back to Clydebank, but was able to leave the securing of a suitable sea-going tug and dispatch of the vessel to Tynemouth in his hands.

  As she returned to Clydebank by passenger barge to deal with the matters awaiting her there, she also had time to reflect upon the recent happenings―and not only of the technical considerations involved in the movement of such large masses of floating iron through a small canal.

  The issue of her marriage being annulled and the turning of a child in her womb into a bastard had been a black squall inexorably bearing down on her. But now she had no child. A great responsibility had been lifted from her. There was no child to suffer the calumny of her unwise marriage. She could shed a tear for the poor mite, who she had carried for so little a time it remained a stranger in her thoughts. The only obligation she had toward it was not to think of its passing as a release from her trouble.

  If the marriage were to be annulled, so be it. She felt sure she could weather whatever storm the Marquess could rain down upon her―let him do his worst, she was no longer fearful of the outcome.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Bond Abroad

  The brig Marigold warped slowly between the islands and into the harbour at Stralsund in Swedish Pomerani
a. Lord Bond stood with two companions amidships on the weather deck, watching as they neared a typical Hanseatic town of steep roofs and red brick buildings.

  “How long will we stay in Stralsund, My Lord?” Sir Cedric Golightly asked.

  “It depends on the success of my advance party, Sir Cedric. I need to have up-to-date information about the French agents in the city before we start our journey through Prussia. I expect one or two will follow us to learn our business.” Golightly was a junior member of Lord Liverpool’s cabinet, an up-and-coming politician with an under-secretary post in the colonial office. The negotiations with the Americans would likely make or break his future career.

  “Damned Frenchies,” Admiral Sir Algernon Crowthorne growled. “Is there any way we can give ’em a broadside?” The old man held the rank of Admiral of the Fleet but it was recognised as a courtesy title along with the diplomatic post―both designed to impress while keeping him from acceding to a real fleet command that a younger admiral should possess.

  “Not unless you have brought some 32 pounders among your luggage, Admiral,” Bond answered. “The Marigold has to be unarmed when on a civilian and diplomatic voyage to Neutral Sweden.”

  “There are French agents here, then?” Golightly asked.

  “Bound to be after Swedish Pomerania was occupied by French armies until 1810. They will try to snoop into whatever is sent as official mail through Sweden as a neutral country.”

  “I see. I did brush up on some recent history before I left Westminster, but nothing of that sort can equal the words of a man who has been on the continent so recently.”

  “I was on the continent recently, Sir Cedric, but that was into the Low Countries. I have not been in Stralsund since aught five.”

  “You think it has changed, then?” the admiral said.

  “Undoubtedly, with French armies here for nearly four years. Before then I expect nothing had changed for two centuries.”

  They made a party of twelve as they sat around the private dining room table in the hostelry Bond established them in. That included the secretaries, clerks, and coachmen who would not normally have dined with the principals, but he had decided to keep everyone together where he could watch them.

  There was one member at dinner who had not arrived on the Marigold; Cornelius van Ee who had been on the Antwerp spy team―a good man if one could keep him from blabbing. Bond planned to keep him under his thumb. He would be giving him the alias Herr Smith for this duty. In fact, he had decided to use a single code name for everyone, which had worked well enough for the French Royalists in Antwerp.

  The business of eating being over, they sat talking and drinking brandy. Sir Cedric and the Admiral listened closely to van Ee and asked questions about the town. Bond wanted to know what the team had learned.

  “Other than the assistant to the French consul there seem to be no Frenchmen employed to watch who arrives here on business,” van Ee said. “If we are followed it will likely be by German-speaking Pomeranians.”

  “The consul is a bona fide merchant and not one of Fouché’s informers?” Bond said. “I doubt that.”

  “M’Lady Brune believes there are still Swedish informers from the time the Marshal of France, the Comte Guillaume Brune, was commander of the French troops in the area and governor of the territory.”

  Bond did not comment. Yes, Elise would probably find a story that would place her in the middle of the noble plotting and jockeying for status in the dominion. Marshal Brune had apparently become too close to the Swedish King Gustav IV Adolphe when he was governor and aroused Napoleon’s suspicions of treachery. He was recalled in disgrace and not trusted with such posts ever again. Elise had been here for almost a month, pretending to be his eldest daughter, Angelique-Catherine de Brune, who had come to Stralsund to prove her father innocent. Why, oh why, would she find such vainglorious roles when she would be safer as herself? Had Fouché not frightened her enough?

  “I think it wise for you to be my courier and sole contact with Lady Brune,” he said. “At least until we reach Prussia. I do not want her connected with me and identified as a British agent; and your report sounds as if she has learned everything we need to know.”

  “So, when will we leave for Prussia, My Lord?” Sir Cedric asked.

  “A day or two hence, I think. As soon as our coachmen have located suitable conveyances and teams. I would suggest if you wish to write any letters to your families you do so before we leave. I will have a bag of ordinary mail delivered to the English consul to put on the next English vessel bound for London.”

  That evening Bond took his own advice. He seated himself at the desk in the corner of his room to write the letter he had forborne too long. He had asked Symington to inform Roberta to look for letters from Herr Smith while he was abroad. He would not send them by diplomatic bag―that was the first place his father would have someone search.

  My dear wife, light of my life, dearest Roberta.

  How my heart has ached for you these three months. Can it be that long that I saw you off on the Glasgow train. Oh cruel beast to have borne you so far from my arms. As you will see from the franking, I am writing this from Swedish Pomerania at the very first opportunity since we came ashore. My brother has been so good as to regularly inform me of your health and good spirits when he has seen you, but his kindnesses have only been a reminder to me that you are far from me and the kisses and love I wish to bestow. Tell me yourself how you do without me. As soon as we arrive in Bern, I will send you word where you may write back. We are a small team of diplomats, just myself, an under-secretary, an admiral, and eight attendants. I will apprise you of the dangers we may meet . . . nothing like those we faced in Antwerp. I must keep French informants away from my brood of travellers lest they should speak out of turn and let the Corsican know what surprise we and the Americans will prepare for him. Our officials are chosen to be unfamiliar with the continent and their duties so that they send every decision made back to London before agreeing it with the Americans. I expect Ambassador Crawford will be in equally close touch with whoever Madison sends on their side. The prominence or lack will be the first order of business when we meet and will advise the parties how their respective governments view the prospect of peace under the prevailing conditions of the hostilities. How are your vessels coming along? I believe Symington, my eyes and ears in Clydebank, has offered a far more detailed accounting of your work than of your loneliness without me. I feel that I have been burst asunder . . . no more a whole man without you. When we meet again I suggest we repeat our vows we made aboard the Medusa. May we repeat them a hundred times until my father grows weary of his spleen. I will shout them from the rooftops until the whole world knows we belong together. I hope you will place this letter under your pillow each night so that my love shall warm your slumbers and be a remembrance of what we have been and shall one day be . . .

  Chapter Fifteen

  Royal Instruction

  As Christmas Day approached, the pace of work in the shipyard increased, but never fast enough to settle Roberta’s anxieties. She took the Sunday before Christmas Eve to discuss her concerns with her father.

  “I believe I will need more workmen on HMS Antiochus if we are to have any hope of completing the vessel by the specified time.”

  Mr. Stephenson looked up from the newspaper in his lap. “I do not see how you may use more men than you have now. They will be falling all over one another. The sluggards will hide behind the more honest of their fellows.”

  “I spoke to Mr. Coates of the Glasgow Gas Company today.”

  “Really? To what purpose?”

  “I want to have gas pipes installed in the Antiochus slip. With gas lights, I will be able to hire enough men to have work continued at night.” She smiled at his surprise.

  “Good Heavens. Are you serious?”

  “I already have gas lights in the workshops so men in the frame bending shop can work there until midnight most nights.”
/>   Mr. Stephenson let his newspaper fall to the carpet. “Well, that is inside. Working outside would be a different matter.”

  Roberta paced before the fireplace. “I will have lights and heated sheds for the men to warm themselves as needed. I feel sure the work of riveting can be carried out successfully on the coldest of nights. It is always hot work for half of the men.”

  “What work can you accomplish while the gas company has the ground all dug up, my Dear? I feel you will lose speed rather than increase it.”

  “They need three days to install most of the lights, Mr. Coates says. I plan to give the whole shipbuilding crew some rest time during the holiday. I spoke to Aunt Nelly about having a Christmas Fete for everyone. We can use the church hall on Christmas Day and have a service and dinner after.”

  “Good Heavens, what will that cost?”

  Roberta laughed. “It will be money better spent than inviting all our new, genteel friends for the kind of entertainments that they expect. I will invite them all to join us on Christmas Day to help the working men and their families spend the Holy Day in righteous gaiety.”

  Her father looked doubtful. “The fine folk will not come.”

  “Some will. Those who will not are not the kinds of friends who I should rely upon if the Marquess, my father-in-law, has my marriage overturned.”

  Just before Christmas Day Roberta received a totally unexpected letter from her aunt―that is, her husband’s aunt, the Dowager Countess of Silchester.

  “What does yon lady want?” Aunt Nelly asked.

  “She will be arriving for a visit on the third or fourth day after New Year.”