VIVIENNE REMAINED FROZEN, as her uncle's dark green eyes pierced hers. "Vivienne, move away from the door," he commanded gruffly.

Vivienne stayed rooted in her place. If she moved a meter, she was sure that her legs would give out.

"Now!" he yelled, his voice booming in the room and making Vivienne flinch.

He had never raised his voice with her, but she had also never seen the manic look in his eyes. Holding onto the wall for support, she forced herself to move a few feet away from the door. Seemingly satisfied with her move, her uncle began pacing again, his cane dragging across the floor in a noisy fashion. He paused in front of the small window before peering out. She saw his body still at whatever the scene outside was.

Slowly, he turned back to her, fear illuminating his face. "I need to know where the letters are Vivienne! Our safety depends on it. I thought they wouldn't follow us out here, but I am not sure anymore."

Vivienne swallowed, as her eyes went back to the pistol he held in his hand.

"For goodness sakes, I'm not going to shoot you," he snapped.

"Your-r--not?"

"If I wanted you to be dead, it would have happened already," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Focus, I need to know where the letters are. I've searched the entire manor and the only thing that makes sense is for my brother to have left them to you."

"I don't know what letters you are talking about!" Vivienne said in frustration.

"Think about places which would make the perfect hiding spot," her uncle said in a hard voice. "If we don't find them," he swallowed, "it just won't be my life they are after. They've seen you and will want to make sure their secrets are kept."

Vivienne shivered, as she remembered the times she'd often felt a presence, evidently someone following her outside. "Who's they?"

"The French!" her uncle said, as he leaned into one of the crates. He paused, glancing at her as if surprised by his answer. His eyes twitched before he went back to watching outside, his fingers gripping the pistol tightly. "This is not good," he muttered. "I don't see them."

"But we are on the water, surely that means it might be difficult for them to catch up to us?"

Her uncle's eyes seemed much older and melancholy, and she saw the visible tension with the deep lines on his forehead. "We cannot underestimate them. I made that fatal mistake once and it resulted in the death of my brother and the Duke of Lennox."

Vivienne gasped, surprised that her uncle had let out such a large secret. All James had told her about her father was that he had passed in a carriage incident, but that no longer seemed to be the truth. She walked towards her uncle, even as the ship swayed. "You must tell me what happened," she begged him, trying to meet his eyes even as her uncle looked away.

"Please," her voice came out hoarse and scratchy, "I need some peace regarding his death. I deserve to know."

Her uncle sighed, resigned he leaned back onto one of the crates, gripping his silver walking cane. "I don't know how much time we have but I might as well tell you the entire tale."

Lord Westmorland looked at his injured leg, his dark eyes filled with pain. Vivienne sat on one of the crates across from him. "I had been quite young, just left Eton, but I knew there was no place for me. My brother married a beautiful American heiress to restore our coiffure, which had been severely depleted by our father's gambling habits. I had been foolishly pining over a lady in London but because I was the second son, her parents did not approve the union. Eventually, they came to an arrangement with another Viscount, who had a tidy sum of wealth."

Vivienne could imagine the scene. Even in her short time at London, she'd seen how in the eyes of society, the way second sons were seen as worthless. Parents wanted their daughters to marry firstborns and run their own household.

"Everywhere I looked, there were very little options available for me. I did not want to be a burden to my brother, who had just begun a new family. The only thing that made sense was to enlist and serve in His Majesty's army."

"And so, you enlisted," Vivienne echoed. She'd seen the darkness creep in her uncle's eyes a couple of times, but she never known the reason. She could only imagine the bloodshed and other horrors he had witnessed.

She watched as her uncle's fingers traced the knob at the top of his cane. "At first, all was well. We were stationed in France, to keep an eye on the growing situation. It wasn't until the Second Coalition, where all hell broke lose."

Her uncle remained silent, as if going over the memory of the events in his own head. The silence stretched between them, and Vivienne asked softly, "What happened there?"

Lord Westmorland raked his hand through his dark hair, and he swallowed. "My infantry was captured by Napoleon's army. We were taken as hostages, to be ransomed back to the British army." 

Vivienne clutched her chest, her stomach feeling queasy. From what little she knew; the French were brutal and barbaric. She forced herself to get out the next few words, "How long were you in the enemies' clutches?"

The earl gave a laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Longer than we should have been. We were kept in a confined space. It smelt of blood, piss, vomit, and desperation. The only time we left the place was to be tortured. It was how I lost my leg."

She'd known that her uncle lost his leg in the war, but she hadn't known it was due to torture. "How did you get out then?"

Her uncle looked at her with hollow eyes. "Most of us didn't. Nobody came to our rescue and things became bleaker."

"But you're here today..."

"Because they let me out," her uncle said bitterly. "I'm ashamed to admit it, even now, sharing with you makes me feel as though I have a mouthful of ash. I could not handle it anymore and caved to their demands. I told them British military secrets, our positioning and what the admirals had planned. I'm a traitor to the crown." 

Vivienne let out a small breath. She hadn't expected her uncle to make such a confession but at the same time, who was she to judge. Her uncle had carried this burden for many years. and he was finally sharing something with her that not many people knew. She saw the weariness and exhaustion in her uncle's eyes, and she reached out to place a comforting hand on his, "You aren't a traitor," she said brushing away the tears that had gathered in her eyes. "You did what you could to survive, nobody would begrudge you for that."

Lord Westmorland shrugged off her hand, as if uncomfortable by her touch. "I should have let them kill me instead, but they didn't allow for that either. Instead, I thought I was free, but the shackles remained, only now they were invisible. The war ended, but the French didn't leave me. They wanted more information, and for me to provide it." Her uncle's dark green eyes met hers, "I thought to end my life, but they threatened to kill Oscar, and you."

"They would harm a child?"

Her uncle nodded, "Time in the army changes you, it hardens your soul. The ethics and beliefs you arrive with disappear into a cloud a smoke, nowhere to be found. I thought everything was fine, but your father was preceptive. He knew something was different about me, and he could not stop himself from looking, and asking around even when I told him not to do so. Then he went and got his friend, the Duke of Lennox involved as well. The French did not like this, and sent mercenaries to—"

Her uncle paused, suddenly alert from his somewhat relaxed stance. He stood, looking through the small porthole. Fear coated is eyes and he turned towards her pointing to a small corner with many crates stacked against the wall. "Hide Vivienne, and do not come out, no matter what happens."

"Wait, what is going on?" Vivienne asked, her heart racing.

Her uncle ignored her as he clocked the pistol, taking another peek outside. Vivienne watched him drag a crate across the room floor to lean against the door. His eyes went back to her as she remained frozen in place.

"Go now," he commanded.

Vivienne nodded as she ran towards the crates and hid. She focused on her breathing, but it was no use. Whatever was to come would not be pleasant.

***

James did not bother waiting for the coachman to open the carriage door. He slipped outside, giving Agatha a meaningful look. "Stay in here. The docks are fair from safe, but you should be fine with the coachman."

The governess nodded, and her fingers clutched his arm, "Please make sure Vivienne is okay," Agatha said, choking on the words.

James gave her a brief nod, unwilling to promise anything more. He didn't know what Vivienne had gotten herself into and James never made promises he couldn't keep. He shut the carriage door and began looking around.

The docks were a flurry of activity per usual. There were shipments of various silks, spices, cocoa, and wine, coming in from the British colonies and other neighbouring countries. It should have been easy for him to spot a bright day gown amongst the dull colours the men wore. 

"Your Grace!" a voice shouted his name.

James spun around, his hand touching the hilt of his pistol, hidden underneath his tailcoat. He squinted, holding up his other hand to block out the glare of the sun, "Tom?" he asked confused.

The boy who had once dared to pick James' pocket strode forward. He looked much healthier, carrying a box of goods. "I 'ought 'is was 'yu. A 'ancy fellow like yu don't come here 'ften. First the l'dy then yu, I mu't be dreaming."

James stilled, before he bent his knees and gripped the boy's shoulder. "There was a lady here earlier?"

Tom nodded, his eyes narrowing at the fingers on his shoulders. James removed them but kept his gaze on the boy. "Did she have blonde hair?"

Tom shrugged, "don't know guv. She was wearing a 'ancy hat."

"Was there an older gentleman with a cane with her perhaps?"

The boy scowled. "Yes. Why you 'sking so many questions."

James ignored his question, "Which way did they go?"

Tom pointed to the sea, "They got on a ship."

James clenched his fist; this was not good. It would be much more difficult to figure out which ship Vivienne had boarded and how far they had sailed.

Reaching into his pocket James retrieved a few coins before tossing it to Tom. "Thank you for the information." He pointed towards the carriage, "Do me a favour and watch that will you? When I return, I'll give you more if the Miss inside remains unharmed."

The boy's eyes widened eagerly at the promise of more money. He dropped the crate he'd been holding, and it fell with a loud thud. With the same quickness Tom had displayed before, he rushed to stand in front of the carriage. James quickly analyzed the ships on the port. Even with his name, It would take a lot to convince someone to let him borrow one of them.

"Lennox, over here!"

James turned and saw Gilford waving from the end of the docks. The Bow Street Runner stood next to a rather shabby looking boat. James hastily maneuvered his way around the various people working.

"I came as soon as I received your message."

James nodded, grimacing upon looking at the small boat in front of them. There were two paddles and it looked quite terrible. Upon noticing his dissatisfaction, Gilford snorted, "This was the best I could find in such a short time."

James raised an eyebrow, "My concern is if it will be able to hold the two of us. The last thing I need is to rescue you from the Thames."

Gilford stepped onto the boat, and it tilted slightly from the man's weight. Thankfully, it didn't tip over. "I'll be fine, I know how to swim should something like that occur. But we should hurry if we want to catch up to the Earl's ship. My contacts said they left more than half an hour ago. I estimate that they will have yet to reach the North Sea. However, we will both need to row, if you're up to that, Your Grace."

The last few words were said almost mockingly. James sniffled his anger. Gilford did always irk him, but he was grateful that the man had showed up even after James had sacked him. Carefully, James stepped onto the boat, making sure to keep an even distribution of his weight. He settled in, grabbing the oars. "I'm ready whenever you are Gilford."

Gilford bobbed his head and together, they began to row towards Vivienne. James only hoped that he would make it in time.

---------------

So, we learn quite a bit about Vivienne's uncle. Some of your theories were correct and others not so much. Did you expect what you read? Do we believe him? James is getting closer to Vivienne but do we think he's going to reach in time? Gilford is also back in the picture! Also, thank you so much for 30K on this story, your support means everything <3