Rose was only a fictional character to instill hope into the doomed.
Lenister’s mind raced. If Eloise was connected to this White Rose, it would explain her actions. A certain pride surged through him on the thought of her efforts to help those in distress. Yet, his mind eased knowing she was safely across the Channel.
It was not only the issue with the White Rose…he didn’t know what he was walking into. If indeed Eloise was connected, why had she not told him?
Second, Orville D’Arcy. If ever he had met a man set on his self-preservation, it was Orville D’Arcy. Lenister was not deceived by D’Arcy’s words. D’Arcy offered help but only with the greatest reluctance. The man offered advice more than once in their brief conversation and always the same.
“Perhaps you should let me send inquiries. I have heard foreigners are not welcome within Paris, for that matter in France. I assure you I will make every effort to secure your children for you,” D’Arcy said.
Lenister was no fool. D’Arcy worried Lenister would cast a dark shadow over his name. Lenister understood the concern, but he would let nothing stand in his way to save his children. Nor , he suspected, would D’Arcy let anything compromise his position within this government—a worry not to be ignored.
Before D’Arcy left his table, he informed Lenister of one more detail. “If you still insist upon traveling to Paris, my son Andre has volunteered to escort you. It will, of course, bode better for you to have this escort and my niece would expect nothing less.”
“But of course,” Lenister agreed.
Now Lenister looked over at Seamus. “Andre , you say? He has offered to escort us to Paris. I believe I will accept. It’s time to get some answers.”
The day shone brightly on the small group of horsemen, making swift work of the miles between Calais and Paris. D’Arcy had been correct in his assessment that his son would see to their access throughout the countryside. At every checkpoint, nothing in their papers had been questioned, no delays in Lenister’s quest.
The younger D’Arcy was a man of few words. Tall and slender, Andre D’Arcy carried himself with a poise that came only with a confidence in his purpose. Lenister had only to decipher the purpose.
Reading adversaries had been an important element in surviving his early military career. During those years, some may have called his efforts in going behind the enemy lines brave and courageous; others youthful foolishness. Whatever his reasoning, he volunteered for those dangerous missions with boyish exhilaration , being all of eighteen at the time. Rushing headlong into the troublesome situation without a thought to the risk. Eighteen . A lifetime ago.
Over the years , his self-preservation and single-mindedness qualities made him an excellent officer, but he had also succumbed to an arrogance that he sensed in this mission could be detrimental to his success. He had learned quickly his life depended upon his ability to swiftly analyze the threat and determine a solution to his dilemma. Luck or skill he never would discern, but never once was he discovered; never once did he have to face the consequence of spying on the enemy.
Was it not what he used when he met Eloise? He sensed a strong resilience within her…empathy for others he used against her to obtain his desire…saving his children. Yet , in his hurry, he may have overlooked important details that could cost him his mission.
Lenister pivoted his horse until its nose faced the head of Andre’s mount. With Seamus close into his side, Andre’s options were limited at best. He glanced first at Lenister and then Seamus before back to Lenister quizzically.
“My dear friend , is there a problem?” asked Andre, leaning back on his mount. A small smile edged upon his face. “Ah…we are about to talk.” Shrugging slightly, he waved his hands in front of him in a gesture for Lenister to begin.
Lenister’s mind raced. If Eloise was connected to this White Rose, it would explain her actions. A certain pride surged through him on the thought of her efforts to help those in distress. Yet, his mind eased knowing she was safely across the Channel.
It was not only the issue with the White Rose…he didn’t know what he was walking into. If indeed Eloise was connected, why had she not told him?
Second, Orville D’Arcy. If ever he had met a man set on his self-preservation, it was Orville D’Arcy. Lenister was not deceived by D’Arcy’s words. D’Arcy offered help but only with the greatest reluctance. The man offered advice more than once in their brief conversation and always the same.
“Perhaps you should let me send inquiries. I have heard foreigners are not welcome within Paris, for that matter in France. I assure you I will make every effort to secure your children for you,” D’Arcy said.
Lenister was no fool. D’Arcy worried Lenister would cast a dark shadow over his name. Lenister understood the concern, but he would let nothing stand in his way to save his children. Nor , he suspected, would D’Arcy let anything compromise his position within this government—a worry not to be ignored.
Before D’Arcy left his table, he informed Lenister of one more detail. “If you still insist upon traveling to Paris, my son Andre has volunteered to escort you. It will, of course, bode better for you to have this escort and my niece would expect nothing less.”
“But of course,” Lenister agreed.
Now Lenister looked over at Seamus. “Andre , you say? He has offered to escort us to Paris. I believe I will accept. It’s time to get some answers.”
The day shone brightly on the small group of horsemen, making swift work of the miles between Calais and Paris. D’Arcy had been correct in his assessment that his son would see to their access throughout the countryside. At every checkpoint, nothing in their papers had been questioned, no delays in Lenister’s quest.
The younger D’Arcy was a man of few words. Tall and slender, Andre D’Arcy carried himself with a poise that came only with a confidence in his purpose. Lenister had only to decipher the purpose.
Reading adversaries had been an important element in surviving his early military career. During those years, some may have called his efforts in going behind the enemy lines brave and courageous; others youthful foolishness. Whatever his reasoning, he volunteered for those dangerous missions with boyish exhilaration , being all of eighteen at the time. Rushing headlong into the troublesome situation without a thought to the risk. Eighteen . A lifetime ago.
Over the years , his self-preservation and single-mindedness qualities made him an excellent officer, but he had also succumbed to an arrogance that he sensed in this mission could be detrimental to his success. He had learned quickly his life depended upon his ability to swiftly analyze the threat and determine a solution to his dilemma. Luck or skill he never would discern, but never once was he discovered; never once did he have to face the consequence of spying on the enemy.
Was it not what he used when he met Eloise? He sensed a strong resilience within her…empathy for others he used against her to obtain his desire…saving his children. Yet , in his hurry, he may have overlooked important details that could cost him his mission.
Lenister pivoted his horse until its nose faced the head of Andre’s mount. With Seamus close into his side, Andre’s options were limited at best. He glanced first at Lenister and then Seamus before back to Lenister quizzically.
“My dear friend , is there a problem?” asked Andre, leaning back on his mount. A small smile edged upon his face. “Ah…we are about to talk.” Shrugging slightly, he waved his hands in front of him in a gesture for Lenister to begin.
Similar Books
