Preview of Persuaded to Sail #1

Preview of PERSUADED TO SAIL, Prologue and Chapter 1

Greetings, everyone. Jack Caldwell here.

As you may know, I’ve been working on a sequel to Jane Austen’s last published novel, the wonderful Persuasion. Many years ago, I came up with something I placed on the fan fiction boards. When I started publishing my works, I took it down.

After completing THE LAST ADVENTURE OF THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL: Book Two of Jane Austen’s Fighting Men, I thought it would be an easy matter of editing that earlier work, entitled THE UNEXPECTED PASSENGER, and get it out there.

I was wrong.

Thanks to enormous Real Life issues (don’t worry, I’m fine) and the folly of trying to write two books at the same time (re: ROSINGS PARK), it has taken A LOT longer to prepare PERSUADED TO SAIL for publishing than anticipated. And still, there’s work to do.

But y’all have been very patient, waiting so long. So, I will post samples of PERSUADED TO SAIL every fortnight until she’s ready to launch. Aren’t I nice?

But y’all have something to do, too. Let me know what you think. There’s still time for me to clarify the story for your future reading pleasure.

(BTW — the covers I include are only mock-ups. We have not decided on the final cover.)

So, here we go!

Prologue

IN 1815, GREAT BRITAIN proudly possessed the largest and mightiest navy in the world. However, the Royal Navy was not invincible. The shocking success of the American United States-class frigates had been a great blow to British pride. Even though the War of 1812 ended in early 1815, the Royal Navy reluctantly recognized it had to improve its ships. Their most advanced 40-gun super-frigates were laid down in shipyards across the country. They would take years to build, but there was no hurry. The country was at peace.

Unfortunately, Napoleon Bonaparte had other plans.

Thanks to incredible bungling by that redoubtable Royal Navy, the once deposed Emperor of the French escaped from his island prison of Elba. The Destroyer of Mankind was loose, Europe was at war again, and it was the navy’s fault.

Caught unprepared, Great Britain had to call on its brave sailors to answer the call yet again.

It should be noted that not everyone in Britain wanted the Emperor to lose the war.

~~~

Chapter 1

March 1815 – London

DEEP IN A GOVERNMENT building, a clock in an office chimed the first hour of the day. The gloomy office was illuminated by a single candle on one side of a large desk. Heavy curtains covered the single small window on one wall. The desk groaned under the weight of numerous papers, books, and memoranda. Opposite the candle was a decanter of crystal, half-filled with amber liquid, and three glasses. The only other furniture in the office was a few chairs.

Behind the desk was a gentleman—a peer by appearance. He sat quietly, scribbling upon a paper before him. It was not the first time he worked well into the small hours, and it would not be the last.

He looked up at the knock upon the door. It was only for form’s sake—his guest showed himself a moment later without leave. The gentleman swallowed his annoyance at the man’s impertinence.

“Were you seen? Were you followed?” the gentleman offered instead of a welcome.

“No,” his guest answered.

“Are you certain?” the gentleman demanded, eyeing the expensive clothing the other man wore.

“Of course. That is why I am still alive.”

“Very fortunate for you.” It was not certain the gentleman meant his sentiment to be sincere. “Laurence cannot say the same.”

“What? How?”

His guest was rarely shaken, and the gentleman almost enjoyed seeing his reaction to the news. Almost. “The newspaper says a carriage accident, but we know better. Too convenient for our French friend. Far too convenient.”

“Devil take it,” the guest muttered while glaring at the floor. “Laurence was a good man.” He looked up at the gentleman with intense, hooded eyes. “Do you wish for me to look into this matter?”

“Do not concern yourself. Others will deal with those responsible.”

“Who?” the guest demanded, his face hard and angry.

“Carter and Smythe.”

The guest growled. “Carter is a fool!”

“That is why Smythe accompanies him. Do you doubt his abilities?”

“As an assassin? No.”

Sarcastically, the gentleman responded, “How kind of you to approve.” He then caught himself. “I believe Laurence was a friend of yours. My sympathies.”

The guest’s face transformed back into his usual bored demeanor. “Thank you, m’lord.”

The gentleman’s lips twitched. It was not often his guest recognized his title. He reached for the crystal decanter. “A drink, then, to poor Laurence.”

The guest received his glass with a suspicious look. “It is not often you condescend to share your brandy.” He took a sip. “Ah, the good cognac. The excellent, illegal cognac.” He lowered his glass. “What is it you want me to do?”

The gentleman took no offense. He knew that the man knew many things about his dealings. But then, he knew many things about his guest’s dealings. It was a situation balanced on a knife’s edge.

“Since you were such a good friend of Laurence, it occurred to us you should take his place.”

The guest blinked, took another sip of cognac, and then set the glass down on the desk. “Exactly, what was Laurence’s place?”

“Bern, Switzerland. Laurence was on his way to board ship at Yarmouth when he was … intercepted.”

The guest stared at the gentleman. “And you wish me to take his place.”

“Yes.”

“And to wear his target upon my back.”

The gentleman shook his head. “Now, now, none of that. We have taken steps to protect you. We plan a diversion. There is no danger at all.”

“Do not insult my intelligence, m’lord,” the guest said slowly. “You would be very happy to be rid of me.”

“My dear sir!” cried the gentleman insincerely. “You have done great service for the Crown. We would not put you in any peril.”

“By sending me to Bern? It is a viper’s nest.”

“True, but we are certain you can take care of yourself.”

The guest sat back in his chair. “And if I refuse this assignment?”

The gentleman’s eyes grew cold. “You would not dare.”

The two men spent some time staring at each other. Finally, the guest broke the silence.

“When will I be allowed to retire from this … business?”

The gentleman’s expression did not change. “When we have no more use of you. Your talents are unique and are of great importance to us.”

“Yes, my talents,” the guest said sadly. “My gift and my curse.” He shook himself. “Very well. I suppose you have some papers for me?”

The gentleman pointed to two packets on his desk. “This one is your traveling papers.” He indicated the smaller of the two. “The other should not leave this building.”

“I understand.” The guest gazed at the larger packet. “I shall return tomorrow. It should not take more than a couple of hours.”

“Come disguised,” the gentleman ordered. “Not dressed like a dandy.”

“Of course. Now, pray tell me of this diversion that should safeguard me.”

The gentleman went into great detail of the plans that had been drawn. The guest’s frown showed he did not like some of its aspects.

“Must you use Tomlinson?” the guest asked. “He is but a babe.”

“I agree, but his resemblance to you is remarkable, particularly dressed in your clothes.”

“Our Lord watch over him,” the guest murmured.

“It is late. Get some sleep, and I will see you in the afternoon.”

The guest took the smaller of the two packets, rose from his chair, and made for the door. Over his shoulder, he asked, “You did not say what ship I will board at Portsmouth.”

“Did I not? Forgive my oversight.” The gentleman glanced at his papers. “HMS Laconia.”

Until next time, this has been the Cajun Cheesehead Chronicles.

It takes a real man to write historical romance, so let me tell you a story…