- Chapter 20 -

July sped through August, and August through September. While nothing changed of note in Compton and the surrounding area after Benedict Gray's funeral, much changed for Mr Routley. The Victory, now scheduled to blockade Cadiz, was waiting in Portsmouth; and there it was that Mr Routley was transferred in preparation of its departure. The morning of September 14th had him embarking in his navy uniform and sitting in for the long sail to Cadiz. A few young lads wandered about the ship with green collars the first weeks on board. It had been far past two years since Routley had been offshore, but his legs quickly recalled how to combat the sway of the waves. Routley didn't endeavor or require to be overly social, unlike some aboard. Mr John Gray was a mate on this particular vessel and he was one who seemed to find it his duty to befriend everyone; as such, considering their last encounter had not been a pleasant one, Mr Gray's friends preferred to avoid Routley's company, which left him largely in the company of himself alone; which suited fine. One of these numerous moments of solitude found him resting in his tiny bunk below deck, when a particularly violent wave caused something to thunk onto the floor a few bunks down. Routley bent to look, seeing a thick letter sliding towards him. He stood and picked it up intending to discover who's it was, when he discovered he could not as the address was written in French. It could be nothing - one of the mates may have a French lady love - but likely not. Brandon determined to keep a sharp eye out for suspicious goings-on, tucked the letter in his breast-pocket and went in search of a superior officer.

The letter was read by the first mate (who was a proficient of the French language) and it was confirmed the letter was indeed the work of an enemy agent by the name of Lady Rose, bearing false information to lead Nelson and his fleet astray. It was clear then that Nelson's failure to catch up to Villeneuve earlier that year was due to similar false reports. After much covert discussion with Admiral Nelson and a few trusted others, the men parted ways with the purpose to dig out a rat.

Very little digging was required as it turned out; not two days passed when a commotion was heard on deck and upon reaching the area of interest Routley saw a struggling young officer held by two others - one of which was John Gray - while a senior officer was demanding Admiral Nelson issue the gauntlet. Routley could hardly hear the young man's cries and protests through the commotion but it was clear that he had been found out as the spy and was desperately claiming the judgement to be false. Routley leaned towards one man. "How was he caught?"

"Not sure, letters were found in his hammock. He claims he was framed but that's what they all say."

"No doubt. Who found them?"

"One of those holding him, the younger one I believe."

John Gray, who at that moment met Routley's eye, let slip the barest hint of a smirk on his lips before glancing away again. "You said it was found in a hammock?" Routley asked.

"Right." the man confirmed. "Not more than a few away from me. Seemed like a decent lad, I never would have guessed, good at his job clearly. Damn French sympathizer, he's a dead man for this."

The young man was currently being stripped to the waist, all the while shaking his head and repeating as if in a daze "I'm not a traitor. I swear it I'm not a traitor."

All men aboard were forming two rows with a narrow path down the centre, the gauntlet, by the Admiral's order. It sat ill with Brandon Routley as he was pushed into line and a strap handed to him, this boy couldn't be the spy. He looked again to Mr Gray, sword in hand, prodding the young officer into the path between the men. The accused was quiet now, a severe expression tight across his face, jaw and fists clenching as he walke and the men on either side began the flogging. It would be a long walk. Routley wasn't sure the young man would make it down the full line before dropping out cold. The boy was halfway through now, and he couldn't join in with the jeers; the smell and spray of blood was making him sick. They should have had a proper trial at least. The claims against him were all too flimsy. Lady Rose the thought came to him suddenly or perhaps also 'Rosy'. Brandon dropped his strap and fairly ran to the young man, grabbing him by an arm. "Move!" he bellowed at the bewildered crowd of officers as he led his captive out of the fray and towards the admiral. "Admiral Nelson, Sir, this man is not guilty!"

The boy swayed, blood pooling at his feet, and dropped in a dead faint. "Someone deal with this boy, where is the physician! What proof do you have of this?" Nelson barked.

"Firstly, the letter I showed you not two days past I found nowhere near a hammock, so it is quite likely this boy was in fact framed; but more importantly I have been following the activities of a one Mr Gray, who coincidentally was the one to 'uncover' our 'spy', since before we boarded and I believe him to be the likely perpetrator. There is one French whore he visited often, if not exclusively, who went by the name of Rose; I am convinced this is the same Lady Rose in the letter I showed you. These letters you found in this officer's hammock, how long ago were they found?"

"Officer Gray approached us a half hour ago claiming he found them, all are from the same Lady Rose from what we can tell, we then went to collect Officer Martin straight after. It does seem rather a coincidence that Officer Gray should be associated with a Frog by the name of Rose, and find the letters in Officer Martin's sleeper so soon after one went missing. Where is officer Gray now?" and when Gray could not be immediately seen, he demanded of all present "Where is Officer John Gray? Who last saw him?"

One man pointed to the door leading down below. "To the bunks Sir, only seconds ago."

"If I'm correct he'll be covering his tracks, I would bet his bunk is not far from mine." Routley was already heading down to where he'd found the first French correspondence. He was not wrong; a few bunks down from his, Gray looked up from where he crouched, the panic in his eyes lit with the glow of burning papers.

"Put out that fire this moment!" Nelson ordered. John Gray was seized, screaming in anger that it wasn't him and he'd been set up, hurling insults and curses at them all. Then begging for mercy, that he'd had no choice, that he had to provide for his family and needed the money, that they had threatened him. Then as they drew into their lines once again and he was prodded into the midst his screams became maniacal, laughing that they had no chance at success in this war and he would laugh in hell as the French burned them all.

Routley watched grimly with the rest of the men as Gray's whip-pulped body was hoisted up the yard-arm in a noose. Such was the punishment for a traitor of the crown.

~~~

"How shocking!" Betsey Wheaton exclaimed, sitting up from where she lay "Who could have imagined! It will not bode well for the Gray name to be associated with a traitor!"

She and Katherine were lounging with Eliza Ritewood and Miss Eloise Gray in the orchard behind Landyn House, enjoying a tete-a-tete on a sunny fall afternoon; though considering recent events their current topic was not entirely pleasant. Miss Gray had come to visit not long after the news of the second twin's treachery and consequential death; it behooved her to grieve the loss of her sibling, though the loss was not so greatly felt as the first brother's had been.

"No, it will not," Katherine replied quietly, absent-mindedly plucking at the blanket they lay on. She was currently surrounded, Betsey and Eloise on either side, and her head in Eliza's lap. "but we are fortunate he was disinherited before all this came about; his reputation as a rake and a dissolute was solidified long before this, and the rest of the Gray family has kept up a good reputation despite him."

"Quite so." Eloise added. "We will not be shamed, so much as pitied and used as conversation starter."

"What a comfort." Eliza muttered.

"A dissolute nature is one thing," Betsey observed, laying back once more, "A criminal nature is entirely another."

"Most definitely!" Miss Gray agreed "But as Kat just said, he has been disassociated from our family for some time now. The Gray name will not be put under suspicion, nor will it be sullied; at least, not as much as it might have been." she reached over and squeezed her sister-in-law's hand.

"Does nothing go well for you dear Katherine." Betsey rested a head on Katherine's shoulder. "You deserve so much more than the trials life burdens you with."

"Hush Bet," Katherine gave a faint smile "I have many blessings and much to be thankful for." Her companions looked at each other with minds alike in worry for their friend and sister. Katherine gazed into the horizon. "I wish Cecilia had been well enough to come."

~~~

Miss Cecilia Wheaton, though melancholy over being left behind, was glad for the time alone. Most of her time was spent easing her aching head and fevered skin with cool, leisurely walks around Rosforte; particularly along the walks bordering Norcastle. Coincidently, young Mr Thomas Harding also enjoyed taking his exercise along the border of Rosforte, and it followed that when one felt the whim to take a stroll, they often met the other on the way. In fact, one may think it was less coincidence than design, for it seemed they chanced to meet each other at least once every day. This day, while her sisters were at Landyn House discussing the fate of the elder Gray twin, Cecilia Wheaton and Mr Harding sat by the lake at Rosforte speaking on similar topics.

"Poor poor Katherine." Cecilia gave a gentle sigh "She is so good, yet meets with such misfortune at every turn."

"Not just she, for you and your family are not unaffected by her misfortunes."

"I rather feel as though we have gained more from her misfortunes than lost." she muttered sheepishly.

"In what way, pray?" exclaimed he.

"Well, not all at once, but when Mrs Routley threw us from her employ and into the generosity of the Ritewoods it eventually led to dear Katherine meeting Lady Compton. Our current state of wealth and wellbeing would not be as it is, had Mrs Routley allowed her son and Katherine happiness."

"Miss Wheaton, the misfortune you speak of is the very least of your sister's hardships, surely."

"I'm not sure her most recent hardships could be called so. 'Tragedies' would describe them better." She sighed. "It does affect us, greatly, my heart cries for her. I cannot imagine what it must be to lose a child and a husband in succession.... And then having her name, the Gray name, associated with that of a traitor."

There was a silence "You don't seem much distressed over not coming out this year as planned."

Her eyes widened and nearly rolled. "That is one of the things I consider a gain..."

"Truly Mr Harding!" she insisted at his raised brow. "I have no desire in the least to be pranced about before the bachelors and widowers of the beau monde."

"You don't dream of finding a handsome young man, dancing into the night and falling in love?" his lips twitched, trying to hide a smile.

She laughed "No Sir, I do not dream of dancing into the night, that sounds exhausting; and in any account, Katherine says balls and parties are almighty stuffy and loud which doesn't sound appealing to me. Besides I'm already in the presence of a handsome young man, what need have I to find one."

"I am not so young, nor am I so eligible as the young men in Lady Compton's circles."

"You are! On both accounts!"

"You are a high-ranking young woman, far higher ranking than a steward's son. You have the chance to find a companion among those of similar rank. Why would you look lower?"

"I am still a farmer's daughter Mr Harding. I have not forgotten my roots!" Her big eyes pierced into his.

Thomas Harding looked away, cleared his throat, glanced at her uncomfortably; he opened his mouth to speak then closed it again. As the seconds fled by her expression grew increasingly more dismayed, until she stood with a quickness out of character. "I think, Mr Harding, I must be getting back. It's been a pleasure...as usual." she turned and began to hurry away when she was stopped by his hand on her arm.

"Miss Wheaton, have I offended you in some way?"

Cecilia took a composing breath and tried a smile. "No, you have not." she comforted, "It is my own thoughts that distress me.... Mr Harding, I really must go." she turned again to leave.

"Truly? I can't help but see you are quite put off, Miss Wheaton, if I've distressed you..."

With an exasperated sigh she spun back around "Why is it you think I require some haughty high-ranking big-city dandy with wealth and a title?? do you think me so shallow as to consider myself above you now that I have a large dowry and a Baroness calling herself my aunt?? My family was handed incredible wealth by the whim of chance, but we are still farmers! I helped my brothers work fields on Routley land while watching you walk on Norcastle trails not so very many years ago; this over-priced dress I wear doesn't change that!" He stared, unsure what to say. Cecilia took a great breath, "I do dream of love Mr Harding, but not with any man of the Ton; a steward's son is far more than good enough for me." she brushed a hand over face, clutched her skirts "..I'm sorry." and fled.

The sun had gone down and Cecilia lay in the parlor by the fire, her mother entered and set a tray of tea and biscuits on the side table by her daughter. She applied a hand to her daughter's forehead and tut-tutted "You're feeling a bit cooler dearest, but you still appear rather down about the mouth. Have something to eat to build your strength." Cecilia obliged as her mother sat to read. For a while the crackling fire was the only sound in the cozy silence; Cecilia, feeling restless and overheated, stood and wandered over to a window, opening it wide. She stood with eyes closed and breathed deep, relishing the October breeze as it cleared her mind and cooled her cheeks. The door opened and a maid spoke to her mother, there was a rustle of skirts as Mrs Wheaton followed the girl out and the door closed. Cecilia clutched her shawl tight around her as the breeze played with strands of her hair. After a short time, the door opened and closed again as someone re-entered.

She turned, "Mama, I Oh!...Mr Harding!..."

~~~

"Mr Thomas Harding?? And Celia??" Katherine exclaimed with more joy than she'd expressed in the last four months together.

Betsey fluttered the letter at her sister with a grin. "Yes! In her own words! Read it yourself, she includes you in the address."

Katherine snatched it eagerly from her seat in the parlor and read aloud. "Dearest Betsey, dearest Katherine, you know I am not one to beget suspense in any one, so I will tell you my happy news first thing. Mr Thomas Harding has asked for my hand and I have accepted. Betsey, you and Eliza will not be surprised I'm sure." Katherine looked from Betsey to Eliza (who had been listening in delight) "Oh! You two, were you taking matchmaking lessons from Miss Compton?"

"No no, we weren't quite matchmaking, we merely teased a bit!" Eliza laughed before Katherine kept reading.

"I am too happy for words, sisters, I cannot fathom a greater joy in the world." she finished. "Oh girls but this is wonderful! And it is to be a December wedding!"

The girls piled upon the settee with Katherine and squealed and cuddled and laughed with joy.

~~~

Miles away on great rolling waves, Brandon Routley sat on a cannon wheel to read a similar letter from Thomas Harding and chuckled to himself, "Harding, bloody well done my man, I congratulate you." He folded the letter. Watching the horizon he pulled out a small log book; then writing, in lead, the date, he briefly recorded the current situation:

October 17, 1805 – Villeneuve still in Cadiz, we wait for our opportunity. The wind turns East, he must move soon.