She nodded agreement. “Since this will be a short trip, little packing will be required.”
“Maurice, we’ll need a travel carriage and a good team of horses,” Simon said. “I assume that will not be a problem?”
“Not at all, Colonel.”
“Good. Our next stop today will be at the best gunsmith in Brussels,” Simon said. “I assume you know who that is?”
Maurice grinned. “Aye, that I do.”
“We’re arming ourselves?” Suzanne asked.
“I meant to buy you a good, compact lady’s pistol in London, but there wasn’t time,” Simon explained. “The countryside here may be unsettled, so no more delays.”
That made sense to Suzanne. She didn’t know if she’d be capable of shooting to kill, but carrying a weapon might help banish her fears. She was tired of being afraid.
Maurice’s choice of gunsmiths wasn’t far. When he pulled up in front of the shop, Simon asked, “Maurice, is it a safe assumption that there is at least one good rifle back at the house? More likely a small but well-chosen armory?”
“Safe indeed, sir,” Maurice said with pride.
Leaving him to walk the horse, Suzanne and Simon entered the shop. A guard was posted visibly at the entrance, and Suzanne understood why when she saw some of the exquisitely crafted firearms on display. The silver inlaid pistols glittered like jewelry. Deadly jewelry.
As soon as the usual pleasantries had been exchanged with the proprietor, Simon said, “We’d like to see your best lady’s pocket pistols.”
The proprietor glanced at Suzanne. She tried to look cool and dangerous. “Of course, monsieur and madam.” He disappeared into the back of the shop for a few minutes and returned with a velvet-lined tray that held several small, sleek pistols. He set it on the counter reverently. “Would madam like to see which best suits her hand?”
Suzanne picked one up rather gingerly. It would certainly be easier to manage than the full-sized pistol Simon had taught her on. She held it in a shooting grip, examined it, then tried another. “They are beautifully made, monsieur, but how accurate are they?”
“Quite accurate for weapons of their size, madam. There is a small shooting gallery in the back of this property where you can test your favorites out.”
Her brows rose. “How convenient.”
After she’d examined and held each, Simon asked, “Which are your favorites?”
She chose two. At his suggestion, she added a third.
Simon told the proprietor, “I’m also interested in a pair of midweight pistols with the emphasis on ease of use rather than decoration.”
Larger weapons appeared. After Simon selected two styles, they moved to the shooting range in the back of the house. The walls and ceiling were padded to reduce the amount of noise generated. Suzanne shot first, carefully loading and sighting down the range. They were indeed reasonably accurate for small handguns and she was rather proud of her marksmanship.
She was unsurprised to find that the model Simon had suggested felt best in her hand and seemed the most accurate. It was relatively undecorated, but she liked the simple, businesslike look of it. “This one, Simon.”
“A good choice. Monsieur, a pair of these, please.” Then it was Simon’s turn. As expected, he was much faster at loading and a better shot, even allowing for the fact that the larger pistols were more accurate. Simon ordered a pair. After both sets of weapons were placed in wooden cases and wrapped reverently, they went outside.
Suzanne would be happy never to have a reason to fire her lovely new pistols. But in a very uncertain world, she liked being as prepared as she could be.
* * *
The news of Napoleon’s return hadn’t reached Kirkland’s household yet, so Simon gathered all the servants in the drawing room to make the announcement. He watched faces carefully and saw only dismay or stoic jaw tightening at the news. If there were Bonapartists present, they disguised it well. He’d have been surprised to find any in Kirkland’s employ.
He dismissed most of the servants to return to their usual business, though he expected they’d be doing a lot of talking among themselves. Jackson he asked to stay.
Looking wary, the valet did so. Simon asked, “How are your left hand and arm coming along?”
Jackson flexed his fingers. “Well, sir. A little stronger and more flexible.” A hint of humor showed in his eyes. “Your ordering me to exercise them at least an hour a day has sure helped.”
“Good.” Simon set the case of new pistols on the table and flipped it open.
Jackson’s eyes widened. “Beautiful weapons, sir. Did you just buy them? I haven’t seen these in your luggage.”
