Sebastian wasn’t so certain of that. But all he said was, “I’m surprised he didn’t kill Eugene Weston long ago.”
“He wanted to. But he and the major were in the free-trade business together. Weston always liked to claim he didn’t take to smuggling until after old man Irving died, but it wasn’t true; he and Jude had teamed up long before that—a good six months before Alex was hanged. Jude had the brains and the guts to organize and oversee everything, but Weston was the one with the money. Jude needed him.”
“I guess Jude decided he didn’t need him anymore,” said Sebastian. Weston and the caretaker, Silas Madden, had been found in one of the bays of the carriage house, their deaths staged to look like a murder-suicide. Jude had set it up so well that if he hadn’t decided to go after Sebastian, he might well have succeeded in blaming the long string of both recent and past killings on the major.
Jenny shifted her gaze to where her grandmother now sat quietly mourning another dead child. Sebastian saw a quiver of emotion pass over her features. “I know you won’t believe it, but there was much that was good in Jude. He was so loving. Loving and funny and kind.”
As long as you stayed on the right side of him, thought Sebastian. And he wondered if they’d ever know how many people the innkeeper had murdered over the years.
He turned to leave, but she stopped him by saying, “You asked about Jamie’s and my father.”
He paused to look back at her.
She said, “Before my mother died, she told Nana that she’d laid with three men: an English lord, a Welsh cavalryman, and a stable hand named Ian from out at Maplethorpe Hall. But Ian was killed when Jamie and me was only two years old.” She tipped her head to one side, regarding him appraisingly. “I’m thirty-six now. How old’re you?”
“I’ll be thirty-one this October.”
“So I guess that narrows it down a bit, doesn’t it?” she said, her gaze meeting his as a tentative smile curled her lips.
Author’s Note
Ayleswick, its historic homes, and its ruined priory are my own creations. I envision the village as lying near the River Teme between Bromfield and Downton Gorge.
Lucien Bonaparte (1775–1840), one of Napoléon’s troublesome younger brothers, did indeed spend years in England as a prisoner of war. A fervent revolutionary, he originally supported Robespierre during the Terror. But later, as president of the Council of Five Hundred, he was instrumental in assisting Napoléon’s coup d’état of 18 Brumaire. As a result, he always credited himself with his brother’s elevation to power.
Lucien’s wealth came from a stint as ambassador to Spain, during which he amassed huge bribes in diamonds that he sold and invested in England and the United States. His relations with his brother were always rocky and eventually deteriorated to the point of a split when Napoléon tried to pressure Lucien into divorcing his wife and contracting a dynastic marriage. Lucien’s flight from Italy is generally seen as an attempt to escape his brother’s wrath. The British, however, were convinced that Lucien’s “flight” to America in 1810 was a hoax, suspecting that his true intent was to fan the flames of what would eventually become the War of 1812.
Captured by the British navy, Lucien and his family (along with a huge retinue of servants and baggage) spent six months in Ludlow before purchasing the estate of Thorngrove in Worcestershire. During that time, they became quite friendly with several noble Catholic families in the area, one of which invited the Bonapartes to baptize their newborn child in their private chapel. Lucien did indeed publish both a novel and a heroic poem about Charlemagne, as well as his memoirs. Convinced that his brother had deliberately gone over to the British, Napoléon did send spies to watch Lucien—as did London, of course. And while Lucien was in Shropshire and Worcestershire, he remained in close, secret contact with Paris; at one point his mother even passed money to him, using the smugglers that plied the Channel.
Allowed to leave England and return to Italy after Napoléon’s banishment to Elba, Lucien rallied to his brother’s cause when the Emperor returned for his Hundred Days—a fact that suggests the break between the brothers was not exactly as it appeared. Despite the bizarre instability exhibited by so many of its members, the Bonaparte family remained extraordinarily close, something to remember when analyzing Lucien’s behavior, movements, and motivations.
For my portrayal of Lucien, I have relied mainly on Lucien’s own memoirs; Pietromarchi’s Lucien Bonaparte: le frère insoumis; and Desmond Seward’s Napoleon’s Family: The Notorious Bonapartes and Their Ascent to the Thrones of Europe.