An Unpitied Sacrifice

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Guerilla warfare in the Peninsular War

My heroine in An Unpitied Sacrifice was part of the Spanish resistance to Napoleon’s invasion. This resistance was not only in the hands of regular forces. Ordinary Spanish people also fought against the invaders. These guerilleros, as they called themselves (from which we get the name guerrilla), constantly harassed the French army. One Prussian officer fighting for the French said: “Wherever we arrived, they disappeared, whenever we left, they arrived — they were everywhere and nowhere, they had no tangible center which could be attacked.”

For the most part, until the last stages of the war, the French were undefeated on the open battlefield, but their tactics and plans were less successful against irregular troops who could disappear into the population with ease and who knew the country like the back of their hand.

They were given official authorisation and support by the Spanish command, who in 1808 decreed the formation of guerrilla troops, and in 1809 gave them the right to keep any money, supplies and equipment they were able to take from the French.

In one notable case in 1811, a force of between 3000, and 4,500 men ambushed a French convoy, defeating 1,600 troops and taking 150 wagons of supplies and 1,050 Spanish and Portugese prisoners. The convoy was valued at 4 million reales.

In 1812, the reported number of guerilleros was 38, 520, divided into 22 bands. Counter measures proved largely ineffective, as they have against guerrilla warfare ever since.

It might have taken the allied armies to finally push the French out of Spain in 1813, but many historians argue that the Spanish irregular forces made it possible.

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Spotlight on An Unpitied Sacrifice

When bad men combine, the good must associate; else they will fall, one by one, an unpitied sacrifice in a contemptible struggle.” Edmund Burke

Brought together by war, Valeria Izquierdos and Harry Redepenning had only a few short months as a couple before the war parted them again.

That war is long over when she brings a group of war brides and children to England. Her friends seek their soldier husbands. Valeria wants to find Harry or, if Harry’s long silence means he is dead, his father. Her eldest child deserves to know his English family.

Harry has never forgotten, or ceased to mourn, the warrior wife he married in the midst of war, and lost to a French ambush years ago. His courtship of a suitable wife is a practical matter, not involving the heart that has been numb since Valeria’s death.

The Redepenning family greet Valeria with suspicion, but when Harry joyously confirms her identity, they welcome her and her children with open arms—not just Kiko, whose Redepenning eyes mark him as Harry’s son, but also the daughter she adopted and the younger son who origins she has disclosed only to Harry.

But as Valeria, Harry, and the children begin living as a family, another, private, war looms before them. The lady who had been smugly awaiting Harry’s proposal is less than pleased with the couple’s reunion. She and her parents set out to destroy Valeria’s reputation, and find willing accomplices.

An old foe of the Redepennings has combined forces with a man who blames Valeria for his brother’s death, and who wants Valeria’s youngest child. A rival of Harry’s from the army would be glad to hurt Harry however he can. These enemies will stop at nothing to destroy not only Harry and Valeria, but also their family.

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WIP Wednesday A day in the life

In this excerpt from An Unpitied Sacrifice, we see Harry and Valeria settling into married life.

Waking up in Harry’s arms every morning was very nice. Not nice in the way it had been in that small village in the Spanish mountains, when they both woke with an urgent need to express their love in the most physical of ways.

Harry had either lost all desire for her, or he understood the mere thought of such intimacy shook Valeria’s frail hold on her emotions. And on her senses and her digestion. Bursting into tears, passing out, and throwing up would kill the mood, especially if she did all three at once.

It was a hurdle she would have to get over. They would have to get over, for they were married for life, and she refused to allow that fiend Antoine to ruin Harry’s life as well as her own. So far, though, she had not even been able to find the strength to raise the topic.

But they were together, she and Harry, and he had accepted her two extra children. She had everything she had hoped for during the journey to England. That she now hoped for more was testament to the courage Harry was giving her. Let them get the other women settled and then they could address her fears, and perhaps overcome them.

She smiled at the thought, and Harry, who at some point during her cogitations had opened his startlingly blue eyes, smiled back. “Good morning, my love,” he said. “A penny for your thoughts.”

“I was just thinking how nice it is to wake up in your arms, Harry,” she told him.

“Very nice,” he agreed, and saluted her cheek with a friendly kiss, such as a brother might give a sister. And as he rolled onto his back and stretched both of his arms above his head, there was a knock on the door.

“Isabella with our coffee,” Harry said. So far, the Spanish woman was working out very well as her maid.

Harry slipped out from under the covers, shrugged into his banyan and crossed to the door. “Good morning, Isabella,” he was saying as he opened it, and then, “Tom! Valeria, it is my man Tom with our coffee. Welcome back, Tom. You’ve heard then, about our changes?”

Valeria could hear the murmur of a reply, but not the actual words. Harry replied with instructions.

“Tell Mrs Rodriguez that Mrs Redepenning will need her in fifteen minutes. I’ve taken the next room for my dressing room, and will meet you there at the same time. You might like to familiarize yourself with the room while Mrs Redepenning and I drink our coffee. I have a meeting this morning, and shall be going out at ten o’clock.”

“Business, Harry?” Valeria asked, as he came back across their room with the tray holding the coffee pot, cups, and other coffee makings.

“A meeting with my father and a lawyer,” Harry said. “What are your plans this morning, dearest?”

Valeria groaned. “A final fitting for some of my gowns, including the one for your godmother’s ball.”

“Poor Valeria,” teased Harry, handing her a cup of coffee made just the way she liked it. “After my meeting, shall I come and pick you and my sisters up and take you out for tea and cakes? As a compensation for the torture you’ve suffered?”

“It is torture!” Valeria protested, laughing. She frowned, trying to think of an explanation that made sense to her, as well as Harry. “Fashion the way Susan knows it is almost a weapon. At the very least, it is a language that all of Society knows and that I must learn. The fabrics themselves, the trimmings, the colours, even the cut—all say something about my status and wealth, and therefore yours.”

“It sounds like nonsense,” said Harry.

Valeria huffed out a breath and shook her head. “It matters to too many people for me to treat it as nonsense, my dearest love. We shall raise our children with all the advantages of being part of the Redepenning family, but even the Redepennings cannot fly in the face of social opinion. If my clothing helps Society to accept me, then that shall ease the way of our children. I can do this, Harry.”

“I am confident you can,” Harry agreed. “If you think it important, my love, then I shall stop teasing. Just don’t let Susan bully you.”

Valeria chuckled. “I have not changed that much, Harry,” she told him.

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Second-chance love in WIP Wednesday

I’m just sending An Unpitied Sacrifice out to beta readers, and thought you might like an excerpt. My hero and heroine are together for the first time in five years. And what do you think of the cover?

The floor of the small room was as hard as Harry expected, and he’d grown used to occupying soft beds in the past couple of years. However, he was warm enough, and if he could not sleep, he had much to think about, both planning for the future and anguishing over his darling’s past.

His determination to stay under the same roof as Valeria was rewarded in the early hours of the morning when she came to see him. He was drowsing when the opening of the door jerked him upright, and the unique smell of his own woman soothed the battle instincts that had roused him. There she was, peering around the door, a candle in her hand.

“Harry, are you awake?” she whispered.

“Yes. Is there a problem, beloved? What can I do to help?”

“Nothing. That is, there is no problem. It is just that I could not sleep. So much to think about.”

“I am the same.” He shifted so he was leaning against the back of the chair and lifted the blankets. “Come and sit beside me, beloved, and share your worries and your hopes with me, and I shall do the same with you.”

The fact she did not hesitate gave him hope for the future. She put the candle on the little table beside the chair, sat on the floor beside him, and even accepted his arm around her and leaned back against his shoulder.

Harry tucked the blankets around her with his other hand.

“Lord Renshaw was nice to my friends,” Valeria said. “They like him.”

“Alex,” he corrected. “He is your brother, so you can call him Alex, as his other sisters do.”

Alex had argued about Harry staying, but not as much as Harry expected. He had left for home without Harry, promising to tell Father Valeria really was whom she claimed to be, and Harry was refusing to be parted from her again.

“Tell Father we shall call to see him tomorrow morning,” Harry had said.

“Your brother is protective of his family,” Valeria said. “When I called in the afternoon, he was suspicious of me, and not very nice. But tonight, he discovered I really am your wife.”

“Therefore,” Harry said, continuing her line of thought, “you are part of his family and he will protect you. And the children. And even your friends and their children. That is how Alex is.”

“I think I like Alex,” said Valeria. “I understand being protective.”

Harry nodded. In that way, Alex and Valeria were very much alike. Both would cheerfully give their life to protect those they regarded as their own, and both could be hostile to any perceived threats.

“My family is now your family,” Harry said. “Father will be delighted to have three new grandchildren. He was already excited when I spoke to him, before Alex and I came over last night. Shall we take them with us when we call on Father in the morning?”

“All of them?” Valeria asked. “Rian too?”

“I think it best if we make no difference between them,” said Harry. “Rian shall be my son as much as Enrique. Kiko, as you call him.”

“I named our son Enrique after you,” Valeria said softly. “It means ‘ruler of the home’. Did you know that?”

“Our eldest son rules the home?” Harry asked, smiling at the thought.

“You do, too, Harry. I saw that with your brother. Yes, he is protective of you, but he also accepts your authority and looks to you for guidance.”

Perhaps she was right. Harry had not thought about it, but then he took it for granted that his brothers and cousins would take his lead. He changed the subject. “What does Zorian mean? It is not a name I am familiar with.”

“It is used among the Basque,” she told him. “But I think elsewhere, too. It means ‘happiness’. That is what I wish for him, Harry. That the disaster of his origins does not touch his life. And in general, he is a happy child. As for Marie, her full name is Marie-Therese. Therese for her own mother, and Marie for the mother of us all.”

She was relaxed and warm at his side. He could not see her face, but she sounded as if she was smiling.

“Tell me about them,” Harry coaxed. “Kiko is the leader. Rian is happy. What else, and what of Marie?”

They sat by the light of Valeria’s candle and talked about their children until Valeria’s head grew heavy on Harry’s shoulder. Then he blew out the candle, lowered them both into the nest of blankets, and slept peacefully with her in his arms.

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Decent men in WIP Wednesday

I like my heroes to be decent men who treat women and children with kindness and respect. And Harry Redepenning in An Unpitied Sacrifice is one of the best. Here he is comforting the wife with whom he has only just been reunited.

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Harry had become aware that Valeria was steeling herself against the anger she expected from him. The first clue had been her voice when she said, “I need to tell you about Zorian.” Then there was her expression as she poured the wine in the big room where the others were and conducted him through to this little private parlour. She had had that little furrow between her eyebrows that she wore when she was worried about something.

And, as she compressed six months of unimaginable suffering into four bald sentences, it was in the glances she shot at him, and the way she shut her mouth at the end, pressing her lips together and blinking back tears.

He could rage against the devils who had so misused her at another time. Right now, his Valeria needed him to reassure her. “I am here, darling. I have you safe. You are back with me now, and you and the children are safe with me.”

The same words, or variants on the same theme, over and over until she pulled herself together and said, with the passionate anger he remembered, “I hate and loath crying. It does no good. I am sorry, Harry, I have drenched your shoulder twice this evening. Truly, I have not turned into a watering pot while we have been apart, though you have every reason to think so.”

“I am overcome myself, dearest heart,” he replied, lifting her hand to his cheek so she could verify that they were wet. “I was not there to protect you. I am here now, and if I have my way, we shall never be parted again.”

Her eyes, still watery, gazed up at him. Her jaw had dropped—at his words, or at his tears. Was it wonder in her expression? Astonishment? Disbelief? “Valeria, I thought you were dead, and I did not want to live in a world without you. Yet I was wrong. Here you are before me. We are together again. How could I possibly bear to be parted from you now! Not just that. I find I am the father of three children! Can we please be a family, as we planned so long ago?”

“Truly? You still want me? You want Marie and even Rian, as well as Kiko?” It was all of those things, then. Wonder, astonishment, and disbelief.

“You love them as your own, and so they are mine, too, for you and I are one. The priest told us that at our wedding. Do you remember? And the chaplain, too, at our second wedding. Your sorrows are mine and your joys. Your burdens are mine and your triumphs. As, I hope, mine are yours.”

Was he saying the right things? Apparently he was, for she was smiling, now. “Harry Redepenning, you are the best man I have ever known,” she said.

“Then you agree? We shall not be parted again?” He waited anxiously for her reply.

From any other lady, he would have called her voice shy, as she said, “But Harry. I have promised my friends that I shall help them find their children’s fathers. Or at least their families. I cannot abandon them. I want to be with you if that is what you want, but I cannot leave them.”

She had that furrow between her brows again. On anyone else, he’d call it anxiety. Come to think about it, perhaps he would have to revise his view of Valeria as an indomitable war maiden whom nothing could intimidate nor defeat. Experiences such as hers would change anyone.

Well then, he would have to adapt. “You must help your friends, of course. And yes, I want to be with you.” And immediately. He was suddenly conscious of the abiding fear that, if he went off home to his father’s townhouse, she would disappear as quickly and as mysteriously as she had arrived, melting away like dew in the sun.

Just as well he had packed a satchel with the few things he would need to stay the night. He had almost left it behind, out of a superstitious fear that being prepared to stay would somehow curse the meeting.

Now, he was glad he had ignored that dark belief. He had better stake his claim to living with her. And he’d better do it in a way that did not threaten her. Quite apart from her commitment to her friends, she had been to hell and back.

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Awkward situation on WIP Wednesday

In An Unpitied Sacrifice, Harry’s joy at his reunion with his wife causes him to forget something important.

“I am looking for a house,” Harry told his father, brothers, and cousin, while Valeria was busy getting to know the ladies of his family. “Valeria is commited to finding the English families of the women and children she brought to England with her, and London is the best place for us to be while we’re busy with that. But I do not like the area where they are currently lodged, and besides, it is not big enough now that I have joined them. If you hear of anything, would you let me know?”

“It will be hard to find anything decent at this time of year,” Gil warned. “The Season is just getting started.”

“You can all move in here,” Father offered.

“Thank you, Father. I shall keep that as an option,” Harry said. “If possible, I would rather get to know my wife and children under a roof that, if not my own, is at least paid for by me. Does that make sense? But more space would be nice. And also servants to do the heavy work.”

The men all nodded, even Father. “I shall ask around,” Alex said, and the others said they would also enquire among their friends and other contacts.

“The priority is to find the information that Valeria’s friends need,” Alex pointed out. “Once they are settled, Harry, you can find something smaller for yourself and your own family.”

“You are right,” Harry agreed. “Father, will you go with me to the War Department this afternoon?”

“Of course, my son. We shall pay a visit to my old friend Arthur, and ask for his authority to wave at various underlings. Do you have the ladies’ names and those of their spouses?”

Harry nodded. And yes, Father’s strategy was sound. If they started with a call on the Duke of Wellington and were able to proceed with his blessing, everyone would fall over themselves to be helpful. Otherwise, five Spanish women of dubious marital status, whether they regarded themselves as married or not, were likely to be brushed off as irrelevant to the mission of the mighty British army.

“What are you going to do about Miss Bretherton?” Alex asked. “You’ll need to tell her before someone else does.”

Before Harry could answer, Valeria’s voice came from immediately behind him. “Who is Miss Bretherton?”

Ariadne Bretherton! In the excitement of his wife returning from the dead with three children, Harry had not given the woman he’d been courting a single thought. He turned to face Valeria, and nearly flinched at the hurt she was trying to hide behind an impassive expression.

The only way out of this mess was through it. Charge ahead, Harry, and pray you are not seriously wounded on the way. “She is a lady I completely forgot about the moment I saw you. She is a pleasant person whom I thought might make me a comfortable wife. I could not love again, you see, after losing you. I was looking for companionship and a partner in my endeavours. Also someone to run my house.”

“Oh,” said Valeria, the mask of her expression now so impenetrable that he had no idea what she was thinking and feeling.

He rushed on, trying to elicit a response. “I need to write to her, my love. She is coming to London next week, and Alex is right. I need to tell her before someone else does that my wife is alive, and that I shall not be pursuing a courtship with her.”

“Poor lady. My happiness has been purchased at the cost of hers. Yes, you must let her know. I am sorry, Harry. I changed your plans.”

“I thank God for it,” Harry assured her. “And imagine how much more dreadful it would have been for her had you arrived after the proposal. Or after the wedding!”

“I never imagined you marrying someone else,” Valeria said, in a low murmur that seemed to be intended for her own ears and no one else’s. “How foolish of me.”

“It was a business arrangement,” Harry assured her. “No feelings were involved.”

The look she gave him was scathing. “I doubt that, Harry. I doubt that very much. She would not have accepted your courtship if she did not at least like you, and I gather that things have gone far enough that her family and probably her friends are in imminent expectation of a proposal. Her pride is going to be hurt, if nothing else.”

She was correct, of course, but what could Harry do about it? His wife was the only woman he wanted, and even if that wasn’t the case, he was married. His wife was alive, and he had a family, furthermore. He could not marry Miss Bretherton even if he still wanted to do so.

In fact, he had never wanted to do so, he realised. He had made a plan and carried it out step by step, but his heart—not the organ that continued to pump blood around his body, but the centre of his emotions that he had wrongly believed to be frozen and atrophied—his heart had never been convinced it was a good idea.

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Surprises on WIP Wednesday

A longish excerpt from An Unpitied Sacrifice, the next Golden Redepenning novel. Harry arrives back in London after a visit to make up his mind about a prospective bride. But his family has unexpected news for him.

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Harry was riding through Mayfair now. Home soon. He hoped Father was home, for Harry was keen to talk to him about Miss Bretherton. Once he had told Father, and once he proposed to that lady, the die was cast, and perhaps then, when marrying the lady became a matter of honour, he would be at peace with the decision.

Here was the mews—the lane that ran behind his father’s townhouse. Perhaps the horse sensed the end of the journey, or perhaps his own eagerness to step into the comforting embrace of the place that had always been his London home communicated itself to the beast, for it quickened its pace, and they completed the last fifty yards in a brisk trot.

“Halloo, the stable,” he shouted, as they drew to a stop.

A stable boy came to the open door. “Major Redepenning, sir,” he greeted Harry, and ran the few steps to the horse’s head. Harry left instructions to take it to the White Swan, the London end of the circuit that had provided the mount for the last leg of his ride.

He hurried up through the garden, his saddle bags over his shoulder. It was late in the afternoon, but this side of the house faced west, and the garden doors were open from the family parlour, letting light and warmth stream into the room. Harry went up the steps to the terrace, took a moment for a deep breath, then stepped over the threshold.

Father looked up with a smile of greeting, as did Alex and Ellie.

“Welcome, Harry. Have you eaten? I shall send for something to sustain you until dinner. Alex, you are nearest, pull the bell rope, will you?”

“Just a cup of tea, Father. I had a superb repast at the Crown and Goat not three hours ago. Ellie, I am sorry to walk in on you in my dirt. I expected Father to be on his own.”

“Do sit down, Alex,” Ellie told him. “It is just family this evening.”

Harry sat in his favourite chair and smiled around at these three beloved family members.

“It is only a flying visit,” Alex said.

“We came to Town for some shopping, Harry,” his sister-in-law explained. Alex’s wife was one of Harry’s favourite people. She had been an army wife, so she understood military men. She had been an apprentice to her father who had been an army doctor, so made certain that Alex looked after his lame leg and ran a clinic for her entire neighbourhood.

Of medium height and build, with brown hair and a pleasant face, one might consider her looks only average, until one noticed her lovely eyes and splendid complexion. But it was in character that she shone. Baroness Renshaw was adored by her husband and children, loved by her husband’s family, and nigh worshipped by her servants and tenants.

“It is too far to bring the children for just a few days,” said Ellie, as a footman entered the room silently, accepted Father’s instructions for a fresh pot of tea, and took Harry’s saddle bags away to be sent to his room.

“Melly and Freddie are safe enough with Jonno and Mattie,” Alex said. The pair had a habit of alternating sentences, as if they were one person with a single message. Harry caught the note of doubt in Alex’s voice, which confirmed that—though he trusted his valet and housekeeper—he did not think anyone else could protect his children as well as he could.

“Of course, they are safe,” Father said, soothingly.

“Of course,” Alex agreed, and turned to his wife, “so we could stay, couldn’t we? Until this business of Harry’s is sorted out?”

Harry, who had been riding all day, on horses of differing quality, was thinking about how his bones were less tolerant than they used to be, and was only half aware of Alex’s words until he heard his name.

“What business of mine?” he asked, wondering if they had somehow heard about his courtship of Miss Bretherton. And, of course, he had not made a secret of it. Not precisely. It was just that he’d not trumpeted it about.

“It is your wife, Harry,” said Father.

Harry chuckled. One should never underestimate the power of gossip. He would lay odds that his sister Susan had heard something and passed it on to the rest of the family. “Wife is a bit beforehand, to be fair. I have not yet proposed to Miss Bretherton. I have made up my mind to do so, however. I look forward to introducing her to you all.”

What was up with his family? They were exchanging looks of alarm.

“Oh, Harry!” Ellie sounded distressed.

Did they know something to Miss Bretherton’s discredit? He could not believe it. If so, she must be the best actress in the world! Yes, and her parents, too. “What is wrong with Miss Bretherton?” he asked.

“I had no idea…” Father trailed off. “That is not to the point. I’ll be blunt, Harry. Your wife Valeria may be alive.”

It was as well Harry was sitting. The room swam before his eyes and for a moment, he struggled to breath. Blunt, indeed. If he had been hit over the head with a blunt object, he could not have been more disoriented.

From a great distance, he heard Father say, “Pour your brother a brandy, Alex,” and a moment later a glass was pressed into his hand.

He took more of a gulp than a sip, but the burn of the alcohol did the trick, drawing him back into himself. “Alive,” he repeated, and his heart, racing in his chest, demanded that he leap to his feet and begin tearing the world apart until he found her.

“A lady claiming to be your wife called this afternoon,” his father told him.

It was a second shock on top of the first. His reeling mind could not produce meaningful words, but could only repeat Father’s words. “This afternoon.” He took another sip of the brandy and managed to add, “Tell me.”

“I did not even know you had a wife,” Alex complained.

Father handed over a piece of white pasteboard of the standard size for visiting cards. “She sent this up with the butler, so we saw her straight away.”

Harry was reading the card. On one side of it was written, in blue ink, Valeria’s names—at the top, Señora Valeria Eneco Izquierdo, with Mrs. H. Redepenning underneath. He had not seen Valeria’s handwriting for a long time, but it could, indeed, be hers.

“She knew how the two of you met,” Father added, “and she explained why she was not with her band when they were ambushed. Harry, she claims that she had stayed behind in a convent because she was about to give birth.”

“She thought you were dead, Harry,” Alex interjected. “She might be someone who knew Valeria, and hopes to batten on to a rich English family by passing her own child off as yours.”

“She was genuinely happy to know you were alive, Harry,” Ellie said. “She had tears in her eyes, and she spoke in a language I did not know.”

“It was not Spanish,” Alex growled.