The Fashionable Spy (21 page)

With those words Victoria settled down to enjoy the evening as much as she might. Elizabeth sat next to her, wearing a wary expression that Victoria would have questioned at any other time. Assuming that it had to do with the villain, she said nothing.

Behind the young women, Hawkswood and Leighton stood for a time, watching the people in the opposite boxes. Hawkswood shifted when his knee began to ache, while wondering who out there might be the one they sought.

 How he guessed it might be someone of the upper class, he didn’t know, except that he suspected a true felon would have knocked Victoria over the head and continued with his hunt.

“Dreary, isn’t it?” Leighton whispered at the singing which was coming forth from the stage. Catalani was smiling for all she was worth while caroling something utterly tragic in content.

“Quite,” Edward replied.

Elizabeth sniffed into her handkerchief, giving the men a baleful glance afterward. “The story is exceeding sad.”

“I see Padbury is attending. He no longer comes around?’’ Leighton mused, ignoring the stiff back presented to him.

“Mrs. Winton turned down his offer,” Edward explained.

“No!” Leighton was shushed again, and paid as much attention to it as he had before. “But he was there all the time. Someone joked they thought the chap had taken up residence.”

“That so? Know anything about his finances?”

“Not a thing. You question his hobby of drizzling?”

“Perhaps.”

The two men fell silent as Catalani again burst forth with an impressive aria.

When the opera concluded, the men welcomed the chance to leave.

“Set for the night?” Leighton asked, watching as his companion firmed his lips.

“I will be. Would you consent to spend a night or two in the Dancy library? I daresay it will not be very comfortable, but I doubt I shall get much sleep either.”

Leighton readily agreed.

“You two did not hear a note that was sung. I declare,” Victoria scolded them with a smile, “I was most put out, or at least the woman in the next box was.”

“We had a lot on our minds, Victoria, you know that.”

“Yes, I do.” She instantly sobered, and the drive to the Dancy house was accomplished by going over once again what the plans were, and who was to be where.

“I saw Mr. Padbury at the opera. He was with Miss Plowerday,” Elizabeth said before they got out of the carriage. “You know, the heiress.”

“I noticed a rather plump woman with purple plumes waving about in the air,” Edward replied, holding Victoria’s hand longer than strictly necessary as he helped her from the carriage. He smiled at her pinkened cheeks.

“Indeed,” Victoria added, “there is a good deal of speculation around, from what someone poured in my ears this morning.”

“With good intentions, I fancy,” Lord Leighton said, his mouth twisting in a grimace.

“Of course. All gossips intend their news for the very best of reasons. I feel sure they wanted to know if Julia was wearing the willow for Padbury.”

“How did she do?” Edward queried as they sauntered into the entry.

“She sweetly told them how pleased she was that dear Mr. Padbury had found someone worthy of him.”

There was general laughter at this. The women walked up the stairs, the men hung back. Julia stood at the top of the stairs, waiting for a full report. The three women drifted out of sight toward the drawing room.

Below, Edward gestured toward the rear of the house. “The library is back there. Evenson,” he said, turning to the dignified butler, “Lord Leighton will take up position in the library for the night. You will let him in, and quietly show him where he can sleep?”

“Naturally, Sir Edward,” Evenson intoned with obvious approval of the scheme.

“I shall be here later, as well. Miss Dancy will sleep in another room, while the dog and I will take over hers.”

“May I say, sir, that I think that an admirable plan.”

“You may, and let us hope that all goes well.”

When the men went up to join the others, Victoria raised her head to study the two who entered, but said nothing. Worry lit her eyes for a time; then she tried to mask her fears, and sipped the tea offered her by Julia.

All went as planned for the night. Leighton found a surprisingly comfortable sofa in the library that now boasted a down pillow and soft wool blankets.

Upstairs, Edward tiptoed down the hall, easing the well-oiled hinges of Victoria’s door open, then slipped inside.

“You are early, sir,” said a low voice by the wardrobe. The room was softly lit by two candles. Victoria faced him from across the bedroom, still in the lovely blue-and-gold gown she had worn to the opera. She carried a robe, along with a lacy froth of a nightgown. The cambric gown had inserts of delicate lace and embroidery, and must have required yards to make. From her fingers dangled a confection of lace that passed for a nightcap. Edward repressed a smile. It seemed the dauntless Miss Dancy preferred feminine frippery at night.

“Sorry.”

“Let us hope that you will not feel that way in the morning. Good night, sir.” She made a formal curtsy, then whisked herself from the room in a rush.

Edward stared at the door, then prepared himself for the night to come. At his side, Sable growled, then settled by the bed. Everyone was on edge.

Chapter 12

“If we put our heads together, we might be able to solve this cipher,’’ came a deep voice from the doorway.

Victoria turned from where she stood by the morning-room window to survey her early-morning guest. He was scarcely a newcomer, having spent the previous two nights in her bedroom after creeping into the house late at night, leaving before dawn, and therefore need not be accorded the civilities due a conventional caller. She dropped the drapery cord she had been toying with and crossed the room to join Sir Edward.

Sable trotted along, obviously happy to see him. The dog sat at Edward’s feet bestowing his usual adoring look at his gentleman friend. Victoria glanced at her large pet, then away. That animal could at least remain at the side of his loving mistress, rather than turn to another. She felt slightly betrayed.

“You most likely are right. Come, let us go to the library, where we can be private.” She ushered Sir Edward to the small but neat room to the rear of the house. “Just a moment, and I’ll fetch my scribblings from the desk in the workroom.”

Edward watched as Victoria whirled about and swiftly walked back to the room where he had seen that incriminating bit of paper.

In moments she returned, a sheaf of papers in hand, closing the door behind her with a decisive click. She’d no need to worry about being caught in a compromising position in
this
household. Her sisters well understood the dilemma that faced the two cipher solvers.

“I quite believed that the Vigenere table would be the most logical system to use,” she said, referring to the simple but effective cipher system developed back in 1585 by the Frenchman Blaise de Vigenere. “It is a fairly simple cipher, and even though the French are familiar with it, I think it superior to the more complex Porta system. While I can have the Porta cipher table here, it is doubtful that the person the message was being sent to would dare to carry such upon his person, if using it. And
that
system defies solution without the tables.”

Edward nodded, then countered, “I see what you mean, but consider—the French have set up a series of poles with attached arms across the countryside. Anyone with a bit of intelligence can figure out what the position of those arms means. They are placed close enough together so one might be seen from another, and it is evident that the purpose is military. I doubt it takes long before it becomes obvious whether the arms tell victory or defeat. Would the French be that careful?”

“I had not thought of that, truly.’’ Victoria crossed to spread her papers on the desk. “Still, most people consider the Vigenere system to be unbreakable. Only if you go about it in reverse can you hope to figure out the message. And yet the solution to this eludes me.” She pointed out the various combinations she had tried, while he shook his head in dismay.

“We have been duplicating efforts, for I have worked in the same direction. I understand why our esteemed superior preferred to have us separate, but it does seem foolish to have this sort of duplication of effort.”

Before Victoria could agree with him, there was a rap on the door. “Enter.” She stared impatiently, wondering who dared to disturb her, while she placed a sheet of blank paper over the work.

Evenson presented himself with an apologetic mien, yet there was a twinkle in his eyes that told Victoria she would forgive him readily. “This letter was delivered by a young soldier, miss. He said he was in a bit of a hurry and could not stay, but he had promised to bring it as soon as he might. Judging by the scrawl on the cover, I deemed it sufficiently important to interrupt you.”

Victoria rushed to take the letter from the silver salver, where the stained and crumpled missive looked sadly out-of-place.

“A letter from Geoffrey! What a relief.” Her smile was radiant, yet there was a hint of reserve in her blue eyes that revealed she was not totally without worry. It had been far too long since they last heard from the young head of the family.

Begging Sir Edward’s pardon, she slit the seal of the cover, then unfolded the letter contained within. As she read, her face grew grave, and she sank down upon the side chair with suddenly weak knees.

“What is it?” Edward stood by the desk, watching her.

“He is with the Marquess of Wellington,” she replied, quite absorbed. “He writes of their battles in the north of Spain. It sounds utterly ghastly. The date tells me it was written recently, and this is not the kind of news to put one’s mind at ease.” She continued to consume the letter, a worried frown pleating her forehead.

“What else?” Edward wandered around the desk, coming closer to where Victoria perched.

“He wonders if the rumors flying about could be true, that Mary Anne Clarke has been delving into selling military commissions and promotions, and that the Princess of Wales is causing a flap.” She gave Edward an amused glance before continuing to read. “Fancy, that they are curious about what goes on at home, even in the midst of all they do.”

Then she gave Edward a puzzled look. “He writes something in code here.”

“What is it?” He took a step closer, peering at the letter, although not actually reading it, for she had not offered it to him.

“A simple thing, let me see ... I believe this is a code we have used before when we wished privacy, unsure as to whether our words might be seen by others.” She studied the page for a few minutes, then slowly translated, “ ‘Wellington has succeeded in fooling the French by transporting his bridging-train from the Tagus to the Douro. The French apparently haven’t a clue of his action or intent.’ “

Sir Edward smiled back her. When it was possible to put one over on the enemy, it was time to rejoice. “Your brother seems in good spirits.”

“He does not mention a woman, at any rate,” she declared with relief. “Although the conditions over there are scarcely the sort to encourage a relationship of the proper sort.’’

“My dear innocent, that does not mean that he might not get tripped into an unwanted marriage.”

“Have you ever met Kitty Pakenham? Wellington’s Irish wife?” Victoria demanded.

“I cannot say I have the pleasure of knowing her well. She squints,” he added in a reflective voice.

“Maria Edgeworth praises her as having dignified and graceful simplicity, in spite of the fact that Kitty can scarcely see beyond the end of her nose. But according to the gossip, Kitty is not the same woman Wellington fell in love with years ago. She changed. I strongly suspect that he would not favor a marriage where the groom was imperiled with a bad union. I believe Geoffrey may avoid any unpleasant connection.’’

“Indeed.” Edward rubbed his chin as he spoke. “This is the sort of information that a woman proves useful in gathering. True, there are some gossips who spread their news to anyone convenient. Others prefer the tea table to scatter their blossoms of social destruction abroad. A wise one knows how to sort out one from the other.” He shared a knowing look with her, dropping his hand to his side while he waited for her to conclude her news.

“Geoffrey also says that Wellington is very secretive. He talks about spending next winter in Portugal, yet Geoffrey suspects he has a trick or two up his sleeve. He doubts Wellington is about to yield to the French, especially now that Jourdan has replaced Soult.’’

“That was a stupid thing for Joseph Bonaparte to do, but it is to our advantage, I believe.”

“So I have been told.”

The door crashed open and Elizabeth marched into the room, hands on hips.

Victoria jumped to her feet, standing close to Sir Edward as though for protection. “Elizabeth, what is the meaning of this?”

“Why did no one deem it necessary to inform me that Lord Leighton has been spending his nights on the sofa in this room?” Sparks danced in Elizabeth’s eyes

“I did not think it important,” Victoria replied blandly.

“The man is a worse tease than Geoffrey, and a beau, to boot. He gives such particular attention to his dress that I cannot see what use he can be. What good does it do to have him sleeping in here? He’d likely take forever to arrange his apparel before chasing a villain.” Elizabeth stamped a softly slippered foot with annoyance.

“Sir Edward feels him helpful, and you, dear goose, are being silly,’’ Victoria pointed out in what she hoped was a reasonable fashion.

Elizabeth bestowed an abashed grin on her sister, then gave the letter in Victoria’s hand a curious look.

Victoria flashed a look of gratitude at Elizabeth for dropping the entire matter at once. It proved too close to the subject Victoria wished to avoid. Sir Edward slept in
her
room, perhaps an improper arrangement to some. She still feared exposure of the windmill episode, but for different reasons. Were she to wed, she’d wish for another basis than compulsion.