A Spy in the House (3 page)

Mary looked up eagerly.

“But before we continue,” said Anne sternly, “you must give me your solemn word that you will never reveal any part of our conversation, or hint thereof, to any other living being. Do you understand me?”

She swallowed and nodded. “Yes.”

“Swear it.”

“I give you my solemn word that I will never reveal any part of what you are about to tell me to another soul.”

Anne’s features relaxed, and she nodded with satisfaction. Stepping to one side of the fireplace, she slipped her fingers behind the polished oak mantel. There was a barely audible click. Then, on the wall to Mary’s left, one panel of faded wallpaper swung aside to reveal a dark, narrow opening in the wall.

Mary’s mouth dropped open in amazement, and she dragged her fascinated gaze back to Anne’s face, which wore a small, triumphant smile.

“Let us enter the headquarters of the Agency.”

Shaking with excitement, Mary rose and followed the women into the narrow opening and through a short tunnel. Although the tunnel was not lit, its bricks were dry and free of cobwebs — evidence of regular use. They emerged in a large, plain room containing a round table with four straight-backed chairs. Anne and Felicity set down the oil lamps they had been carrying. The yellow light flickered over the exposed bricks and rough wooden floorboards, making the room seem oddly cozy.

The women each took a seat round the table, and Anne smiled at Mary warmly. “I always hoped you would come to us one day, my dear — and you did. But I have talked too much already, perhaps giving you the impression that I am in charge. I am not; the Agency is a collective, although only two of us are present this evening. Felicity, would you care to explain to Mary what we do here?”

Felicity cleared her throat; she had been unusually quiet thus far. “As you know, the goal of Miss Scrimshaw’s Academy for Girls is to give young women the means to achieve some form of independence. Marriage is an uncertain gamble, and the primary types of work open to women depend upon the good nature of one’s employer. That is why most governesses and domestic servants are so shamefully abused.”

Anne vigorously nodded her agreement. “Precisely. Although a few professional opportunities for women exist, it is our aim to train women to do more than teach children and serve meals. But you know this already, and you have been helping to prepare young women in this way, too.” She paused and glanced at Felicity. “I beg your pardon, Flick. Do go on.”

Mary bit back a smile on hearing the affectionate nickname. She had never before heard the grave, thoughtful Anne Treleaven speak so informally.

Felicity turned her marvelous eyes on Mary, her gaze almost hypnotic now. “The Agency complements the Academy. Here, we turn the stereotype of the meek female servant to our advantage. Because women are believed to be foolish, silly, and weak, we are in a position to observe and learn more effectively than a man in a similar position. Our clients employ us to gather information, often on highly confidential subjects. We place our agents in very sensitive situations. But while a man in such a position might be subject to suspicion, we find that women — posing as governesses or domestic servants, for example — are often totally ignored.”

She permitted herself a small smile. “We also find that well-trained women tend to be more perceptive, as well as less arrogant, in their observations. They are often, shall we say, less prone to error — not because they are cleverer or more fortunate but because they make fewer assumptions and take less for granted. And, contrary to stereotype, they are often more logical.” She looked at Mary keenly. “Have you any questions thus far?”

Mary nodded. Her fingers clenched hard on either side of her chair. “How many members does the Agency have? Do your clients know that your agents are female? When was the Agency founded? And by whom? Is Miss Scrimshaw involved?”

They laughed at her eagerness, and again it was Felicity who answered. “The Agency was founded some ten years ago, and Anne and I were among its first operatives. We are now its official heads and daily managers, although major decisions are made collectively. However, for reasons of security, you will almost never meet other agents face to face.

“We do not discuss our operatives with our clients. They are attracted by our reputation, but we disclose to them very little beyond the information they seek. We find that to be in the best interests of all involved. We are also highly selective in our clients. We decline to work for criminal organizations or those whose activities we find undesirable or dubious. And no, Miss Scrimshaw is not involved with the Agency . . . although we believe she would approve of our actions.”

Mary’s eyes were wide. “And you really think I might be fit for this sort of work?”

Felicity’s voice was deep and rich. “We had been debating for some time whether or not to approach you. We were each convinced that you had the potential to become an agent, but we were equally concerned that the work might remind you too much of your past. We had no desire to make you unhappy, and we did not want you to attempt the work simply to please us.” She smiled brilliantly. “But you have come to us, instead.”

“Let us not congratulate ourselves prematurely,” Anne announced in her usual brisk manner. “Mary, you must still listen to the assignment we propose and decide whether or not you wish to undertake it. And before that, we must turn to the question of skill.”

“Skill?”

“We are interested in your skills of observation, Mary. Close your eyes and picture the room in which we received you. Can you tell me how many lamps there were?”

Mary found it easy to summon a detailed image of the room and her employers. “Three,” she said with confidence.

“What are the dimensions of that room?”

“Roughly eighteen by twelve; the ceiling is about ten feet high and plastered smooth.”

“And the table that was to your left?”

“It is round and made of walnut — about three feet high and eighteen inches in diameter. It has three legs. There was nothing on it.”

“What jewelry am I wearing today?”

Mary paused to consider. Again, a mental image of Anne clicked into place. “An oval brooch made of gold and amber. It has a filigree border.”

“And what time do you estimate it to be now?”

“I came to meet you at half past four. It must now be a little after five o’clock.”

“Thank you, Mary.” Anne nodded as though checking off an item on a list. “You did well — unusually so. I also believe you know something of the art of pugilism.”

“Boxing?” Mary smiled at her employer’s delicate phrasing. “I have no technique, and I fight dirty. But growing up near the docks, I learned to protect myself. I believe that all young women should know how; that is why I began teaching some elementary maneuvers to the older girls.”

Anne nodded briskly once more. “The first phase of training, involving observation skills, self-defense, and a few other useful techniques, normally lasts for several months. However, given your background, this may feel like unnecessary repetition. Mrs. Frame and I have agreed that you may — if you choose — compress the initial training period into one month. It will mean a great deal of intensive work, and you may prefer to undergo the usual training period, which allows for a little more leisure and a greater margin of error. The choice is entirely yours.”

Mary paused, suddenly dizzy at the prospect. In the space of an hour, her entire life had been transformed by these women, much as it had five years ago. She gazed at them but couldn’t read their expressions. Felicity appeared casually unconcerned. Anne’s gold-rimmed spectacles hid the expression in her gray eyes. And Mary thought she understood: their expectations didn’t matter. It was entirely her decision. “I should like to begin as soon as possible,” she said, her voice firm and clear. “I choose the intensive, one-month training.”

“If we start tomorrow morning,” said Felicity suddenly, “you’ll be ready to commence practice fieldwork in May. The timing is excellent!”

Mary sat bolt upright. “Why is that?”

A look of amused resignation rippled across Anne’s face. “Felicity, you’re getting ahead of yourself.”

Felicity bit her lip. “I’m sorry; I thought we talked about this: that if Mary knows what she’s training toward, she’ll be better able to focus and prepare.”

A sharp tingle ran up and down Mary’s spine, making her scalp prickle.

There was an appreciable pause. Then Anne began to speak, her voice dry and dispassionate. “During the mutiny in India last year, a number of Hindu temples and homes were robbed of precious jewels and sculptures. In at least two instances, these very unique items have made their way into private British collections. We have been asked to investigate a merchant who is believed to have handled a significant number of the smuggled artifacts. He is suspected of selling them to crooked antiquities dealers in London and Paris.”

Mary frowned, disciplining her thoughts away from the sheer excitement of the situation and toward the problem described. “This task is beyond the scope of the police?”

“Yes and no,” said Felicity. “These crimes did not occur on English soil and there is still no evidence linking our suspect to them. As such, Scotland Yard cannot act. Instead, the Yard has engaged us to find the connection and retrieve the evidence. It is a freedom available to us, as an independent agency.

“Our suspect’s name is Henry Thorold. He is connected with the East India Company, the Far East Trading Company, and a number of American interests. Although he has warehouses in Bristol, Liverpool, and Calais, his operations center primarily in his London warehouse, located on the north bank of the Thames.

“Thorold has, in the past, been suspected of financial crimes — evading import taxes some eight to ten years ago and, more recently, defrauding his insurers — but nothing was proven. We believe that our agent will be more effective. She describes it as a straightforward job that is likely to take a month or so. Of course, international trade is always precarious and subject to extreme weather conditions; ships might be long delayed, and our priority is to collect a significant and conclusive amount of evidence.”

Mary nodded, trying to appear calm and patient. “I see. But you — you did mention that there might be a role for me in this case?”

Felicity smiled. “Not a major role, certainly. We already have an agent on the case who is conducting the bulk of the investigation. But there is a second post we thought might serve as a training ground for a new agent.” She glanced at Anne. “Perhaps, Miss Treleaven, you could describe the post?”

“Certainly. Mrs. Thorold is an invalid who believes that her daughter, Angelica, requires a companion. She would prefer to engage a younger woman — not so much a chaperone as a paid friend, close to her daughter’s age. The daughter, I gather, is rather spoiled and accustomed to having her own way.” Anne paused, a glint of humor in her eyes. “I expect your classroom experience will prove useful to you, in that respect.”

Mary thought of the month-long training period. “But won’t the post be filled by someone else in a month’s time?” she asked.

“I think not. I’m due to meet Mrs. Thorold next week in my capacity as head teacher at the Academy. The negotiations will take some time, and Mrs. Thorold appears to be fairly slow-moving, in general.”

Hmm. It sounded as though the ladies had been thinking of her all along. “And if I hadn’t chosen the one-month intensive training . . . ?”

“If, at the end of the month, we deem you unready, another agent will take the post and you will meet with an equally useful training assignment once your training is complete,” said Anne firmly. “You mustn’t think that this assignment depends upon you; that would be a gross overstatement of the importance of your role.”

Mary nodded, blushing.

“However,” said Felicity a little more gently, “you may train with this particular assignment in mind. It will be an opportunity for you to practice being insignificant and meek.”

Mary digested that. The Academy trained its pupils to think rationally, to carry themselves with confidence, and to stand by their opinions. Presumably, a stereotypical lady’s companion would have little use for those skills. “May I know more about the assignment?”

Anne studied her for a moment. “I don’t suppose it could hurt. You’ll receive a more thorough briefing before you begin the assignment —
if
you receive the assignment. But, in essence: the agent posted in the Thorold household will listen for news of a particular shipment coming from the Malabar Coast. There is a secretary living in the house — a young man who has been with the family for less than a year, named Gray. There is a chance that Thorold and Gray might discuss illegal business at home.”

Mary nodded. “That seems straightforward enough. Is there anything else that I — that the agent, I mean — should do as well?”

Anne smiled at her disappointment. “You did mention that you’re impatient. No, Mary. This is to be your first experience of fieldwork. We’ve chosen it precisely because it’s a safe place in which to learn your craft.”

“I understand,” Mary murmured. “I’m a quick learner.”

“I am sure you have further questions, but before we continue —” Anne leaned forward, her eyes intent. “Mary, at this time, you are still free to choose your course. You may leave us now and attempt to forget that this conversation tonight ever took place. Or you may choose to join the Agency. But should you choose to enroll, we must know that you are fully committed to the Agency and to its principles.”

Felicity folded her long, shapely hands together. “The Agency is a covert organization, and we require absolute discretion from each of our members. Being a secret agent carries with it many known risks, as well as the constant possibility of unknown threats. Think carefully before you choose.” She straightened her posture, seeming to grow more majestic with each moment. “In becoming a secret agent, Mary, you become part of a new family. When you are on assignment, we will be the only people who know where you are and what your purpose is.