Ashley Gardner - The Hanover Square Affair

Louisa's mirth had evaporated when her husband and I entered to pull her from the sitting room. I explained what had happened, barely able to speak, my mind already pulling away from me. I was never sure what happened after that, because after a long, long time traveling back through London and the hour it took to climb my stairs to my rooms, I'd had strength enough only to crawl into bed and lie there.

I learned later that Louisa had gone to the Thorntons and given them what aid she could, including arranging for Jane's body to be retrieved and decently buried in a churchyard with the proper service. She told me that Mr. Thornton would survive his gunshot wound, but she suspected he would always be weak. The heart had gone out of him.

I never did discover what had happened to Jemmy and the procuress and anyone else involved in the matter. I came across a terse letter from Denis as I leafed through the post that had piled on my writing desk in the intervening time. In brief sentences, he told me that everything had been taken care of, giving me no details. From that day forward, I heard nothing, not from Denis, not in newspapers, not in rumor.

I told Louisa everything, the words tumbling from my lips, as though she were a papist confessor and I a contrite sinner.

"So I turned my back on Jemmy and left him to Denis's mercy. God knows what he did to him."

Louisa lifted her head, and firelight glistened on a sleek, golden curl that fell to her neck. "I confess that I do not feel much sympathy for him. Not after spending these past days with Mrs. Thornton. Not for Horne, not Jemmy, not the procuress."

"You didn't see Denis's eyes. I have never seen anything so cold. It's as though he's not even alive, Louisa."

She shivered. "I think I never want to meet this man. Although I am very angry about what he did to you, and I would like to tell him so."

I smiled at the image of Louisa Brandon scolding James Denis, her finger extended, then I sobered. "He wanted to punish Jemmy himself, not because Jemmy had done a terrible thing, but because he'd disobeyed Denis. And, Denis sees it as a way to have power over me."

"Mr. Denis also could not let Jemmy in court for fear of what he might confess in the dock-or on the scaffold," Louisa pointed out.

"Denis does have the magistrates in his pocket, but gossip and public opinion can still ruin him." I ran my hands through my hair. "But I did the same, didn't I? I let my own will prevail over the law and justice."

"By letting Aimee's aunt take her to France?"

I rested my head against the back of the divan. "Ease my conscience, Louisa. Was I right to let her go?"

Louisa met my eyes, hers clear gray and filled with compassion. "What Horne did was unforgivable. Aimee took his life in desperation, and in defense of her own. He never would have paid for what he'd done, if she hadn't."

"But does one crime negate another?" I asked. "I've shot men who were doing their best to shoot me, I've plunged my saber into men who were trying to plunge their bayonets into me. Does it make me-or Aimee, or Josette-any less guilty?"

"I cannot answer that, Gabriel. Please don't ask me to. What was right for Aimee, and what was wrong, I do not know. Perhaps the choice was neither right nor wrong, it simply existed." Louisa laid her hand on my knee. "I am afraid that, in this case, you'll not have the comfort of knowing you did right."

I closed my eyes. "If I let Aimee and Josette escape to France, then I say that murder under certain circumstances is perfectly acceptable. And who are we to judge what those circumstances are? But if I go to Bow Street and tell them all I know, they'll go after them and drag them back. And they both would likely die a horrible death."

"What will you do, then?"

Louisa watched me, expectant.

I stared at a point beyond the flaking plaster arches that climbed to my ceiling. The firelight softened the once-gilded walls to a mimicry of their former glory.

"I must let them live."

Louisa looked relieved. "I'm glad."

"May God forgive me."

Louisa leaned to me, fragrant with lemon and silk, and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.

"Even if he will not," she whispered, "I will."