The Darcy Code (8 page)

His frowned. "Overheard?"

She flushed. "I was not eavesdropping, at least not deliberately. I was in the library when you and Papa came in, and I did not know how to leave. I was not going to pay any attention, but I could not help overhearing what you said."

Mr. Vere halted and gave her a searching look. "I trust you are discreet, I trust you realize that this was not for your ears, and indeed must not be spread abroad under any circumstances.”

Anna drew herself up and gave him a haughty look in return. "Just because I am a mere female, it does not mean that I do not have as much sense of discretion and honour and duty as my father and my brothers. Of course I shall say nothing. I am aware of how dangerous things are with regard to
France
and peace. I am not such a fool as you seem to think me, Mr. Vere."

That made him laugh, lightening the annoyance that had showed in his expression. "My apologies, but it is still unfortunate that you should have overheard that conversation."

They walked on, he appeared lost in thought. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. She said, "Mr. Vere, when we parted in the park yesterday and you rode away, I saw you stop and talk to a man, and you handed him what looked like a document of some kind."

"Aha, and you wondered whether perhaps I was the person who had taken the memorandum and was handing it over to a French agent. No, indeed that was something quite else, a folded paper indeed, but merely a message passed on to go to an entirely different destination. The man in question works for us, for the English. If I told you his name, which I won't, your father would confirm this, and indeed he knows that I have dealings with him. Have you been harbouring suspicions about me? I assure you need not."

Mortified, she murmured, "I was sure that it could not be so."

She had offended him, and regretted that the easy camaraderie and the friendship that seem to be developing between them must be jeopardized by her voicing her suspicions of him. More silence; they were turning into the street that led to her house. Reluctant to end their walk on this note, she ventured, "The lost memorandum is important is it not?"

Mr. Vere nodded. "One could say it is crucial. And that is not a word I would use lightly."

"Are there so many people in
London
who would wish to see the French triumph over us, even to invade?"

"Indeed, that rascal Bonaparte has eyes and ears everywhere. Many of them belong to people living in
England
. There are those among the émigré community who would throw their lot in with Bonaparte, and also trades people and artisans who support the regime in
France
. Perhaps even that milliner whose shop you have just left."

Anna laughed. "I can assure you that the milliner is not any kind of a French agent. She puts on a French accent and has assumed a French name, but her real name is Wallace. She comes from our village, we have known her forever. I am sure she has never set foot in
France
. So I do not think you need be seeing any danger there. However–”

Suddenly, Anna thought of Madame Girot.

"On the other hand," she went on hesitatingly, "I do have my doubts about the dressmaker I have just visited. Madame Girot. Now, she is a Frenchwoman, although I know she has been established in
London
for several years. She's in great favour, all the ladies of fashion go there. But..."

"But?"

"Do you know Mrs.. Fortescue?"

His eyebrows rose. "I am slightly acquainted with Mrs. Fortescue, if we are speaking of the same woman. You have lost me, what has she to do with Madame Girot?"

"Mrs. Fortescue's first husband was a Frenchman, was he not?"

"Oh, if you are thinking of her as a French spy, I assure you that women whose husbands perished under the hands of the terror and were sent to the guillotine are most unlikely to support Bonaparte."

"You said yourself that there are traitors among the émigré families."

"Yes, and we have some information about them and keep an eye on a few of them, perhaps the younger ones who have an idealistic vision of France and think erroneously that Bonaparte points the way to a better future for their country. But I can assure you, Mrs. Fortescue has never come under any kind of suspicion."

She might be young and inexperienced in such matters, but she felt that he was wrong. Some instinct warned her that Mrs. Fortescue was not what she seemed. She must be careful, think it through in a rational manner. Was it simply that she had found the woman in Mr. Standish's arms, and felt pique and jealousy?

No. She had been shocked; even though she knew of the free and easy ways of many ladies of fashion, Mrs. Fortescue, a married woman, should not be relishing the embraces of a Mr. Standish. However, that was a moral issue. There was something else about Mrs. Fortescue that struck her as false. She was a woman with a mask, and although in a world of artificiality and artifice this was not unusual, there was more to it in her case.

Yet what use was instinct? Mr. Vere or her father would say that she was just imagining it. That she was envious of beautiful, accomplished older woman who had attracted the attention of a man she fancied.

They had arrived at her house, and once within, she went upstairs to take off her outdoor clothes, while Mr. Vere was announced to Lord Gosforth, who invited him into the library. Anna stopped on her way up the stairs and looked down into the hall. Mr. Vere looked up and gave her a fleeting smile.

He really had a charming smile, and there was complicity in it. He was telling her that this time she would not be in the library eavesdropping.

He was an interesting man, an intriguing man.

Upstairs, in her bed chamber, Anna took off her hat and sat down by the window, still pondering on Mrs.. Fortescue. What was it that was niggling at her? She closed her eyes, forced herself to relive the scene she had witnessed at the rout, Mr. Standish tucking the paper into Mrs. Fortescue’s voluptuous bosom and then, with a skip, she was at Madame Girot's establishment
–where Mrs. Fortescue was talking to Madame Girot, fluttering her pretty fan, laying it down, taking it up again.

Fan! That was it, the fan.

She sprang up and ran out of the room and down the stairs, in time to see the front door close behind Mr. Vere. Papa was standing there, talking to Henrietta, who must just have arrived. Anna had no time for her. She flew to the front door, the butler hastily stepped forward to open it, and she was outside, bounding down the steps.

Henrietta called out to her and followed her out, asking what she was doing, what was the matter?

Drat, there was Mr. Vere climbing into a hackney cab.

Henrietta was beside her, burbling away, "I am so glad to see you, I thought you might be out making calls with your mama, but here you are. Pray, come back inside, you look so strange."

Anna looked at Henrietta as though she had never seen her before. Thank God, here was another hackney bowling along the street. She waved it down, bundled Henrietta, speechless with astonishment, into the hackney cab, jumped in beside her and instructed the jarvie to follow Mr. Vere's cab.

She sat tensed on the seat, while Henrietta, regaining her breath, began to utter cries of protest. "Have you taken leave of your senses, Anna? What on earth are you doing? Jumping into this horrid hackney, ugh, how it smells. What are you about?"

Anna didn't reply, she was trying to see out of the tiny window, urging the driver on with her whole being.

"Where are we going?" Henrietta demanded.

Anna said, without turning her head, "I do not know. Oh, I do hope we catch him."

"Catch whom?"

"Mr. Vere, I have something of the utmost importance to say to him."

Henrietta gave a shriek, "You cannot be chasing a man, the impropriety of it, and in a hackney cab."

They were bowling down Haymarket, and then the cab driver slackened his pace. He leaned down to say, "Sorry, miss, there's so much traffic here, so many carriages and riders and other cabs I've lost sight of your cove."

Anna thought for a moment, hesitated and then made up her mind. "Take me to
Whitehall
if you please, as fast as you can."

Henrietta gave another shriek. "
Whitehall
? You have run mad, where do you need to go in
Whitehall
?"

The truth of it was that Anna had no idea where to go in
Whitehall
, but that was where government offices were and therefore that was where she would find someone to speak to.

It seemed an age before the hackney cab turned into
Whitehall
.

"Which office would you be wanting?" the jarvie called down.

"We will alight here, " Anna said. Then, realizing that she hadn't brought her purse, she said to Henrietta, " Quick, Henrietta, have you money to pay the jarvie?"

Henrietta, speechless again with horror, silently produced the necessary coins, which Anna handed up to the cab driver. They stood in the street, two conspicuous young ladies, one hatless, attracting the stares and glances of people passing by. Henrietta gave a little moan of dismay.

Then, oh, what a relief, Anna spied the tall figure of Mr. Darcy. He was turning into a doorway only a few yards away. "There, that's where we need to be," Anna said and hurried off towards the building, with a reluctant Henrietta, her face flushed with embarrassment, following in her wake.

Anna didn't pause at the entrance, but sailed into the building. She found herself in an impressive entrance hall, with polished floors and marble pillars. There was no sign of Mr. Darcy, although there were two or three clerks hurrying backwards and forwards who gave her startled looks.

The porter's assistant, looking out from his cubbyhole, saw the two of them. "Cor blimey, what are them two females doing here?"

The porter looked up, then sallied forth to eject them.

Anna didn't give him a chance to speak. "I must see Mr. Darcy, at once."

The assistant porter was by now was muttering about light skirts, hussies. The porter ignored Anna's hatless state as he took in the quality of her dress and her air of authority and said, quite politely, that no Mr. Darcy worked in this office.

"Perhaps not, but I saw him come in here," Anna said. "Pray find him for me immediately. It is extremely important and urgent that I see him. Don't look at me like that. I am Miss Gosforth, Lord Gosforth's daughter, and I need to see Mr. Darcy upon most urgent business."

At that moment, Mr. Vere came down one of the several corridors that led out from the main entrance and stared in disbelief at Anna and the shrinking Henrietta.

He hurried forward, "Miss Gosforth, what in heaven's name –"

"I have something to say, regarding that memorandum." She looked around, they had attracted quite a little crowd, and went on, "but I am sure we should not be talking here."

Mr. Vere didn't move, but said, "My dear Miss Gosforth–"

"Do not patronize me and do not look at me in that way. I have not taken leave of my senses, I know where that memorandum is, and you must hurry or you will lose the chance to get it back."

Mr. Vere hesitated, and then said to the porter, "Don't worry Mr. Greeve, I will attend to Miss Gosforth and to – Miss Portway is it not?"

"Henrietta knows nothing of this, she had much better stay here," Anna said.

Leaving an apprehensive Henrietta perched upon a stool that the porter provided for her, looking as though she would rather be anywhere on earth than there, Mr. Vere escorted Anna through a door to the rear of the entrance hall.

"I should blindfold you, you really should not know where you are. I will simply have to trust you. We go through here."

They left the first building, crossed a small courtyard and entered another one. More corridors, more stairways and, even in her state of anxiety, Anna was a aware of bustle and a feeling of urgency: men passed them at almost a run, doors opened and closed, snatches of conversation came through open doors.

As though reading her thoughts, Mr. Vere and said, "You have come at a busy and difficult time, I am afraid, Miss Gosforth. The news from
France
is alarming and our ambassador is leaving the capital as we speak."

For a moment, Anna thought of Harriet, but she put that out of her mind as something to be dealt with later. What mattered now was passing on what she knew to someone who would act upon the information.

Another corridor, more hurrying men, all giving Anna quick, puzzled glances, and then Mr. Vere stopped outside a polished wooden door somewhat larger than the others. He knocked and when a voice inside responded with a "Come", opened the door and ushered Anna into the room. Mr. Darcy was there, sitting behind a table covered in papers. He was talking earnestly to a young man; heavens, she knew him, it was Mr.
Jordan
, surely the idlest of young men, whatever was he doing here?

Mr. Darcy did not look pleased at the interruption. Cold eyes surveyed Anna from head to foot and she was suddenly acutely aware of how ramshackle she must look.