I sorted through the boards until I found one that was wide and flat. “Do you think you can row?” I asked Bickley.
He glanced at the board in confusion. “I have no idea.”
“One of us will have to paddle while the other makes an attempt at steering. If this boat had a tiller, it is gone now.”
Bickley only stared at me dubiously. I tried to remember how the fishermen of my youth could slide out into the sea in craft even more rickety than this, and not only make it back home but bring in a large catch behind them. I longed for one of those wiry, taciturn, unflappable men with me now.
I hauled Bickley up and thrust a board into his hands. “Try. I’ll guide us.”
I had to show him how to dip the board deep into the water to make any headway, and also how to move from one side to the other, as in a coracle, so we’d go in a straight line.
After Bickley’s few feeble attempts, I realized he was hopeless. I took the makeshift paddle away from him and told him to sit in the stern. He fumbled his way back, nearly turning us over, but I managed to keep the boat upright.
The rope would help. I spent some time tying it to the top of the gunwale, which fortunately had a few rings for just this purpose. “Hold onto that,” I told Bickley. “If you feel yourself going, just hang on and shove your weight opposite to the way the boat tips.”
The keel had probably once had ropes attached for steering, hence the rings, but I would have to dive over the side to reattach them, and I’d never be fit enough for that.
The board was difficult to hold, especially when I had no gloves—my captors had taken those too—but I approximated a single oar with one hand on top, the other close to the water. It was damned awkward, but I did get the boat pointed more or less north.
“I’ve been piecing together events,” I said as I endeavored. I did not know if Bickley could hear me, but I did not much care. “After supper I quarreled with Isherwood, who was still annoyed with me about Marguerite. I thought at first someone had added something to the port I took with him, but Isherwood poured his measure out of the same decanter I did, and others, including Desjardins, had helped themselves as well.”
I paused to catch my breath, my labors rigorous. “My memories go hazy after I departed the Pavilion with Grenville. You must have accosted me soon after Grenville left me at the Steine. Appealing to me, in your sad way, to help you with a problem.”
“Yes.” Bickley wheezed out the syllable.
“I must rely on you for the gist of our conversation. Was Miss Farrow present when we reached the Meeting House?”
“She was. She often remains late to help clean, or prepare meals for those who need them. But Matilda knows nothing about this.”
“Good.” The upright Miss Farrow could remain on the moral high ground. “I like her. She was worried about Miss Purkis. You weren’t as concerned about Josh at the moment—at that time, you had no idea of his fate. But Miss Farrow had noted his absence and asked me to discover what had happened to him.”
I went quiet, out of breath, moving my paddle steadily. “Did you invite me in for a cup of something?” I asked when I could speak again.
“Tea.” The words were bitter. “Thou didst not want it but politely drank it.”
“Damn me and my good manners. I rarely drink the stuff—I prefer coffee.” I might not have noticed if the tea seemed off, as most tea tasted foul to me. Brewster must have lost me when I’d stepped inside the Meeting House for the fateful drink. “What did you put into it? Opium?”
“Yes. Very strong opium, I think. I am not certain exactly what it was.” Bickley coughed. “Fernand gave it to me.”
“Fernand? Ah, Comte Desjardins.” The man behind me had violated most of his own principles but still could not bring himself to call a count by his title. “Then your part was over. Harmless, you must have told yourself. All you’d done was give me a substance that some physicians use for healing. I must have felt woozy immediately, because when I went into the pub not far from the Meeting House, I asked for coffee, not ale. I must have wanted to clear my head.”
I ceased speaking to paddle for a time. My thoughts did not stop, however, and soon I was speculating aloud again.
“The lady who lured me out of the pub might have been Lady Armitage, though I suppose I will never know unless I ask her. I imagine she is in thick with her husband’s plots, has been since she met him in Vienna. She must have told me something alarming to make me run back to the Pavilion. I wonder whether Armitage or Desjardins killed Isherwood in front of my dazed eyes, or whether he was already dead by the time I reached the spot. I remember growing disoriented at the sight of Armitage the next night, so I will believe it was he who made the killing blow. The event must have stuck in my head. After that, Clement, up and about because he’s a young man with a healthy appetite, helped me leave the Pavilion. I found my way home to collapse into bed ,and remembered nothing when I woke.” I gave a breathless laugh. “The evil was inthem, Bickley, not you. They are cruel men who will do anything to get what they want.”
Bickley said nothing. I risked a glance at him to find him openly weeping.
“None of that,” I told him sternly. “I need your eyes clear so we don’t run into anything. Even the smallest bit of flotsam might capsize this craft.”
Bickley shook his head. “I am sorry, Gabriel. I did not know how good a man thou art, but that should not have mattered. I conspired to ruin a gentleman, and I had no right to, no matter what I believed about his character.”
The words were broken, Bickley miserable. He’d been upset enough about his brother’s death to convince himself to help Armitage and Desjardins, and then he’d been punished in the most terrible way. No wonder he’d thought his own sins had been the culprit.
“I don’t mind what the bastards did to me,” I said. “Even Isherwood was a cad. But I’ll get them for killing Joshua.”
I’d make certain I lived, if only for that.
I closed my mouth and concentrated on paddling. I thought I was moving us in the correct direction, but the truth was, I could not say. The sun continued to sink, and once the summer twilight gave out, we’d be in complete darkness. If the film of clouds that gathered on the horizon spread through the sky, I would not be able to use the stars for navigation.
