“Captain Pierce!”
He looked my way, frowning in some confusion. So, I pulled my hood back so as to let him see me.
“Lady de Lambert. Gracious, how nice to see you, Madam.”
“Captain. This is indeed a day for strange coincidences,” I said.
“Really? How so?”
“Well, I have seen two people from that dreadful day in Paris already. There is your good self, and the twin of the assassin that my husband dealt with.”
He frowned, so I turned and pointed to Armes, who was lurking at the rear of the crowd. The good Captain paled and his mouth opened in shock.
“Ye Gods! It can’t be! I saw him die in your arms.”
“I know that, sir, now you see my consternation. It must be his brother set out to avenge the death of his twin.”
The Captain turned to his sergeant and sent half the platoon to the rear of the crowd. Once they were in place, he had the others march along the road, halting adjacent to our target.
I covered my head with my cloak and melted back against the building line. I did not wish Armes to see me this time.
The soldiers, all briefed as to the man they wanted, turned brought their rifles to the ready position, bayonets fixed, and advanced through the crowd towards Armitage.
The man was so engrossed in watching the gates to the college, that he only noticed the advancing soldiers when they were six yards away. He looked shocked, turned, and fled away from them.
He came to a sudden and abrupt halt at bayonet point of the others who were waiting for him down the lane to the rear.
“Stand fast, in the name of the King!” shouted the Captain.
Armes drew a pistol and looked slightly panicky for a moment. The few members of the public at the rear of the crowd screamed and hindered the soldiers slightly.
The soldiers needed no bidding to raise their rifles to the fire position, and the advancing soldiers hesitated, as they did not wish to be shot by their colleagues.
There was no escape for the man, so I watched, powerless, as Armes placed the muzzle of his pistol to his temple and pulled the trigger.
There was a single shot and he slumped against the cobbles, his brains spread over the wall to his left. More people screamed, so the soldiers formed a protective circle around the remains.
At than moment Robert Peel and his Grace the Duke left the college and glanced briefly at the small crowd around the soldiers. Peel walked away and mounted a carriage, but his Grace decided to investigate the soldiers’ activities.
The captain saluted and whispered in his ear, and the Duke looked closely at the assassin’s body.
Captain Pierce saw me and waved me over, so I had no choice but to go.
“My dear Jane; once again, it seems I am indebted to you. What a strange thing. For he is the spitting image of that fiend in Paris,” said his Grace.
“I know, isn’t it remarkable? I was just delivering some mail to the coaching office, and thought to visit my friend Mrs Courtney, when I saw him. Then I saw the good Captain, remarking to him how strange it was that he seemed the very likeness of that man in Paris. The Captain reacted with wonderful efficiency. Obviously the man did not wish to be taken alive.”
Some members of the Oxford City Watch arrived, so the soldiers helped remove the remains. I bade farewell to the Duke, but he insisted upon escorting me to my carriage in person.
“Madam, I shall have to employ you as my personal bodyguard, as you seem, fortuitously, to be available to save my unworthy life yet again,” he said.
“I am only pleased to have been of service, your Grace. I am, however, somewhat curious to know how one man can appear alive again after having been killed some months ago,” I answered.
“A good question, madam, a good question indeed; I believe that he must be the twin of the man in Paris. Certainly, as you have already observed, he bears a remarkable resemblance to the man in Paris. I have asked Captain Pierce to look into the matter. I shall let you know of any findings.”
“I would be most interested, your Grace,” I said. He kissed my hand as I climbed into the carriage. Oliver held the door open, gaping at the Duke, not believing whom he was seeing.
Oliver drove me home. I was satisfied that I had done my job this day. Oliver was agog with the fact that the Duke of Wellington was amongst my group of friends, and I swear his chest was puffed out more than ever.
I stayed in for the next few days, as it snowed, and the children were suffering from the sniffles. At the weekend, I took them out for a walk, so they threw many snowballs at each other and their mother. William was a tough little chap, taking no bullying from his bossy elder sister. Katie was turning into a very pretty girl; but didn’t she know it.
She flirted outrageously and unconsciously with any male aged between twelve and seventy. I feared that this was going to get herself into serious trouble. That evening, she and I had a mother and daughter chat. I gave her the facts of life with both barrels.
I left her gaping after me with a very pale face. She was somewhat subdued for a few days after our little chat, and I reckoned that no other eleven year old in 1816 had ever been told that much by her mother, or even by her stepmother.
Her lessons with young Raymond Spurway were progressing well, and William was also getting to grips with his first basic lessons, although he much preferred riding and playing with soldiers to his schoolwork. He told everyone that he was going to be a soldier, like his Papa and his grandpapa.
Raymond came to me and said that he believed he had saved sufficient for his further studies, so wanted to try to go to Oxford in the forthcoming Autumn. It was still January, but he was feeling guilty that he would be letting us down.
I told him that we were planning to move to America, so that it was a fine plan to go to Oxford. He was much happier after our little talk.
Little Edward was a delight. In fact, I was a little concerned as he rarely cried. He was progressing rather quicker than I felt was usual, and I put this down to the enhanced genes from my constructed body. He was fully weaned and already walking. He was larger than most of his age, and was even attempting speech. He already knew ‘Mama’, ‘Dada’, ‘Katie’ and ‘Will’.
It would be interesting to see how he developed. I was struck by his resemblance to my memories of my early photographs as Edward Ryan.
The snow left as quickly as it had come and, one afternoon, we received a surprise visit from Marjorie’s parents. I would have preferred Roger to have been at home, but he wasn’t and so I just had to deal with it on my own.
I was in the nursery playing with Edward, when Abigail came and found me.
“Mr Groves says for you to be told that Katie and William’s grandparents have arrived, Mum.”
“Thank you Abby, I will be down directly. Are the children with Mr Spurway?”
“Yes Mum.”
“Then please inform Mr Spurway, and suggest that they have a break.”
“Yes Mum,” she said, disappearing.
I picked up Edward and carried him downstairs. Groves had taken them into the drawing room, where there was a good fire going. I steeled myself and entered.
Mr John Richardson stood as I entered, while his wife, Geraldine, sat rather primly on the sofa. She was a stout woman, slight in stature but greater in girth. Her clothing was somewhat drab but functional. She had her grey hair curled into ringlets, but more for ease of maintenance than fashion. Her husband was of medium height, with grey hair and of a well-proportioned physique. I imagined he was a good-looking man when younger. I could see more of his daughter in him than her.
“Mr and Mrs Richardson, how lovely to meet you at last. Roger has told me so much about you. I am Jane, and this is our son, Edward,” I said.
They were polite, probably feeling as awkward as was I.
“I have told the children’s tutor that you are here, so I suspect that we will hear them any second now,” I said, and as I spoke, the sounds of running feet could be heard on the stairs.