The Redemption of Sir Edward Denham - A Return to Sanditon Novella

Three

It took mere minutes to pack up the entirety of Edwards life into an old battered trunk and a single valise. Edward looked around the attic, that had been his home for over a year, wistfully. How life had changed. Like the ebb and flow of the tides, his life had moved from privilege to misfortune and back again with an inevitability that was now almost prophetic. This was not the moment to reflect upon the unfairness of his lot. He wasn't completely ignorant of the role he himself had played in his misfortunes; much was of his own design.

"Let us remove from this hovel, Denham." Carlisle lifted the trunk then moved to open the old wooden door, looking over his shoulder impatiently. Edward nodded and followed him from the room without a backward glance.

Enroute to Dunkerque

The coach lurched once more into motion and began a slow but steady pace away from the rundown district. All three men were silent as they rumbled along. Edward was glad of the peace, but uneasiness lingered as he pondered what may lie ahead. What did Dujardin want from him, and what of Carlisle, where did he fit in this intrigue? The man clearly didn't like him. Nonetheless, the thought of returning to England was a temptation Edward was unable to dismiss. With the troubles of his past still fresh in his mind, he did not see how his life could possibly return to any semblance of normalcy, except, the thought of once more waking in his own bed in Denham Place would be a start, he supposed.

Finally, the silence was broken by the slowing of the carriage. They had left the city some time ago and had been travelling north-west on the road to Dunkerque. The lights and sounds of a busy coaching inn surrounded them, and Edward surmised that this would be their stop for the night.

Confirming Edwards suspicion, Dujardin spoke. "We will break our journey in Armentière. I would have liked to have made more progress, but it is not safe on these roads after nightfall."

The inn was small and comfortable; quieter than those on the more popular road to Calais. Edward refreshed himself before making his way down to the private dining room secured by Dujardin upon their arrival. He would finally get some answers, he thought, still wary of what they had planned for him, but unwilling to remain ignorant any longer.

As he entered, Dujardin turned. As if reading the determination in Edward's face, he motioned for him to sit. "You have grown weary of waiting, Sir Edward? I can see. Carlisle shall be here shortly, but while we wait, you and I shall discuss what needs to be done."

Edward moved to seat himself opposite his companion and poured himself a glass of wine from the carafe placed in the centre of the table. "Do go on. I am keen to hear the details of the scheme. I should also like to know what I gain from doing your bidding."

"Ah, yes. I never imagined your services could be bought with simple passage to England, but I will come to that later." Dujardin shifted slightly, resting his arms before him on the table. "When we spoke earlier, I alluded to a group of disillusioned Englishmen who have come to my country to plot and contrive a way to bring down your government. The French authorities cannot officially intervene but wish them gone. Rebellion is not far from the minds of many here, and these Englishmen are zealots. Whilst their ideologies of equality and fairness are to be commended, their plan to instil these by force cannot be supported on either side of the channel. Change will come as progressive thinking is imbedded into society's conscience, but violence? No, violence will help no one.

We have intelligence that these men have based themselves in Dunkerque but may travel to Calais or another port in the near future. We need to ensure that a message reaches our man in England as soon as their plans are known. Carlisle will be on hand to assist, but his duties keep him here in France. We need you to take the information as soon as it is clear that they are on the move and deliver it to our contact. He is a Marquess with a direct line of communication to our superiors, and I am sure you will know in which circles he travels. He must be told in person and with the utmost discretion. Are you willing to fulfil this duty on behalf of the Crown?" Dujardin spoke with a gravitas that comes from authority.

Edward was unsure of his exact role, but it was clear that intelligence – espionage – was his business.

"So, if I am to understand this, my role is simply to deliver a message to an English nobleman advising him that the threat is imminent. Why would he believe me?" Edward asked cautiously. "I hardly have a sterling reputation."