Suddenly, there was gunfire from the waters. The men turned back and looked, and saw flames shooting from cannons, as His Majesty’s finest warships engaged with the French ships in the waters.
Richard thrust his sword into the air and screamed, “Wentworth!” The call was taken up by all of the dragoons nearby as they cheered for their navy, taking heart in the knowledge that Eastbourne was not alone.
“Richard!” Darcy cried. “I must go to Elizabeth!”
Richard nodded his understanding, turned, and ran straight into the village, from where the screams of villagers and the crude shouts of the French could be heard.
Darcy and William turned and ran back to the beach and into the cave. “Elizabeth!” he screamed, as he made his way to the corridor. He had no choice but to leave her there before. He could hardly have taken her out onto a beach with him to fight three hundred or more invaders, but he could not go any farther without moving her to safety before the tide came in. He had been lucky that the cave was less likely to flood in the summer, but he would not risk Elizabeth’s safety any further.
“Elizabeth!” he shouted again, as he ripped the rags away from the opening of the small room in which she hid.
“Fitzwilliam!” she cried, throwing herself into his arms.
Elizabeth’s poor cousin had to witness her very enthusiastic first kiss uncomfortably, and after a moment, he shouted, “Oi! We’re in the middle of a battle here, Mr Darcy?”
Elizabeth could not help but to express a peal of laughter as they broke apart. “Apologies, Cousin!”
Darcy grasped Elizabeth’s hand and began to lead her out of the cave, picking up two muskets and checking that they were loaded, before handing them to Elizabeth, then handing a third to William. They came out onto the beach, picking their way around the bodies of the men who had fought and fallen there. The moon was very bright. The French had, of course, chosen to land on the full moon, the better to see what they were attacking.
As they left the beach and headed away from the village, Elizabeth pointed to a man heading to the shore, attempting to keep to the shadows. “Who do you suppose that is?” she asked.
Darcy instantly recognized the man known as Huggins, sneaking away to escape in the night. “Oh no, you do not,” he growled.
Huguenin hadno idea what he should do. He was an intelligent man. He had the gift of languages, and could speak many dialects flawlessly without a hint of accent, or any trace of his roots. This had enabled him to come to the attention of important men, and eventually, the Emperor. He had spent years working for Napoleon and his army, assuming false identities, and gathering intelligence.
This mission was something he had been investigating for years, tracing the whereabouts of a priceless artefact that had been stolen by the British in the year 1801 in the Battle of Alexandria. Many priceless relics had been taken, but this one had in turn been stolen from the British, disappearing somehow on the journey home. He had tracked it, and the one who was supposed to be dead, but instead was hiding it, to this godforsaken place. The jewel was so priceless that the Emperor had been willing to send twelve hundred men on a suicide mission to retrieve it. The mission would have gone so much easier if all of the French had landed instead of just one frigate. It would not have made a difference in the outcome, however. The jewel, and the one who hid it, had eluded him. He had no idea if the Emperor would be merciful. But he had a better chance on French soil than in England. He might even escape to Belgium.
Except that escape now seemed impossible. Out on the water, guns fired, and men screamed. The British Navy was out there. How did they find out? Who could have warned them? The idiot agent that had been sent to Eastbourne by the war office could not possibly have worked it out, and if he had, the information would only have gone as far as Spaulding. There was no frigate out there to row to now. There was only carnage on the water. Now there truly was no choice, he would have to escape into the English countryside, and attempt to obtain passage back home later through a smuggler’s drop. He knew several men who would help him, though he would have to lay low somewhere remote for months before he even attempted it.
Suddenly, he heard a bugle. A damned British battle cry, heralding what appeared to beanotherdamned company of dragoons, perhaps even two. He watched as scores of fresh men rode into the village, dismounting and leaving their horses nearby, then throwing themselves into the fighting.
Elizabeth hidin the shadows as Darcy and William went after Huggins. There was an incredible fight, for the man refused to go willingly. There were several times that Elizabeth had to fight not to cry out at the villain’s viciousness as he engagedDarcy with his own sword. Eventually Darcy forced the man back, where he tripped upon the legs of another man who lay dead, and struck his head on a stone going down, rendering him unconscious.
Mr Darcy and William Bennet made short work of tying the man’s hands and lifting him up by his arms and dragging him between them. Elizabeth came out to them, the fighting had moved deeper into the village, and they had not seen any other Frenchmen this close to the water in several minutes.
“This man is one of the ringleaders, and we must secure him, but I cannot see how we can do so without risking Elizabeth’s safety,” said Darcy. “As a matter of fact, I cannot see how to get her anywhere safe without encountering the French as we attempt to move about. The town is overrun.”
Suddenly, the door to a nearby cottage opened, and a woman hissed. “Madam! In ‘ere, madam!” The party rushed over to the door, where a poor woman in her thirties looked out. “Madam, if ye need shelter so’s the men can fight, ye can ‘ide in ‘ere.”
Elizabeth looked at the woman, “I have seen your face before.”
“Aye, I visit Bourne ‘ouse fer the launderin,” the lady said. “I heard o’ yer kindness to poor Bella Tyler, that be good of yer people ta do that. Ye kin all ‘ide ‘ere if’n ye want.”
“I cannot stay, I must fight with the men, but if Miss Bennet and Parson Bennet can stay here, I would be in your debt, madam,” Darcy said. “Bennet, will you take charge of the prisoner until an authority can decide what to do with him?”
“Of course, and I will give my protection to the ladies,” vowed William.
Darcy gave Elizabeth a soul searching look, then turned and vanished through the door. Elizabeth watched her cousin drag their prisoner inside the little cottage, where the woman hadbeen hiding with her two children. William dumped the man in a corner, and proceeded to watch out the window.
“I thank you for the offer of shelter,” Elizabeth said to the lady. “What is your name?”
“I’m Mrs Hobley,” said the woman, drawing her youngest into her arms. “My John, ‘e’s out there fightin’ with the other men.”
“Let us pray for them,” Elizabeth said. From his post at the window, William led them in prayer for hours as they waited.
CHAPTER 54
The fighting raged all over Eastbourne for hours; things did not get quiet until the sky was turning grey with the dawn. Elizabeth had seen so many dead men on the beach and leading to the village just on her short journey to this cottage, and she was profoundly affected. Tears ran down her cheeks as she spent hours on her knees with Mrs Hobley and her children, praying for the safe deliverance of John Hobley and the other villagers. Elizabeth could not help but weep at the thought of all of the spinsters and widows who lived in the heart of the village, who had no husbands or even manservants to defend them.
