‘A spy?’ She stared at him doubtfully. ‘I don’t know, sir.’
He tutted. ‘Let me see if I can make this clearer. Smuggling is a crime and requires some sort of punishment. Either you accept the terms being offered or you’ll be brought before the magistrate where in all likelihood you’ll be sentenced to transportation for life.’
Her knees sagged underneath her. If she were transported for life, she’d never see her family or Fencarrow again, and while she’d always wanted an adventure, this was not what she’d imagined. But a spy? She had no skills, no idea of what a spy should do.
‘This is a choice between the devil and the fires of hell,’ she said bitterly.
‘On the contrary,’ he said coolly, ‘this is an opportunity I would advise you to consider carefully.’
An opportunity, with no way to opt out. Her gaze lifted to the sky but she barely registered it. What a situation although it was better than Johnson’s plight. ‘Tell me more about the terms.’
‘You would be sent to a spy network based here in England that collects intelligence on people and activities. There is a need for a female to do a special job and your skills make you a perfect fit. You would not be paid but should you successfully complete your task, you would be pardoned for your crime and allowed to go home to your family.’
A gull flew down onto the top of the wall and shrieked at her. Reminded of Fencarrow’s harbor, she thought of home and Papa. She would give anything to see his smile again and to know that he was well.
She pursed her mouth and glanced sideways at Mr. Booth. ‘What is the task I have to do?’
‘I cannot tell you but should you agree to the offer, then you will be informed by the director of the network in due course.’
She swallowed past the dryness in her throat. A task for a woman—that could mean all manner of things and some not that savory. She shivered in the feeble sun, her aches intensifying with her thoughts. ‘What happens if my task is not successful?’
‘You would be required to stay on and complete other missions until you achieve a satisfactory outcome.’
‘But that could take years.’
He shrugged his shoulders and waited, not denying her statement.
‘How many missions succeed?’ she asked quietly. ‘How many spies make it home?’
‘Unfortunately there is a high death rate. That’s why the government continually seeks new recruits.’ His dark eyes pierced her with a sharp directness. ‘But if you accept, don’t think to escape on the job and disappear. There are desperate spies who have been given the same terms and they would be only too happy to hunt you down and kill for their pardon. You wouldn’t last a week.’
She shuddered at the intensity in his eyes. He’d be true to his word and once inside the network, she’d be there perhaps for years — unless she could somehow find a way to win.
‘Come, Miss Perran. Decide. Do you accept the offer or not?’
The terms of his proposal were diabolical. She’d heard from the sailors in Fencarrow about transportation. They’d told her about the harsh colonies and feral lands, where savages killed and men ran rampant. If she went there she’d be expected to work hard, every day of her life, probably at a master’s beck and call. Hardly the life of adventure she’d dreamed about.
Spying at least gave her a chance to gain her freedom, slim though it might be. A chance she must take if she were ever to have a life of her own choosing.
She raised her chin and glared at him. She would commit to this task and do whatever it took to be free. ‘I accept your offer, sir.’
A satisfied smile stretched across his face. ‘You have made a wise decision.’
As if she’d had a decent choice. A thought struck her. ‘What if I had not spoken up? What if Finch had gone to the yard?’
Mr. Booth’s eyes narrowed. ‘You would have been taken to the magistrate straight away to plead your case. Just like Mr. Johnson.’
A drop of sweat fell from her forehead and landed on the ground. Dear Lord.
Her wrists ached from where the rope had cut into her skin and her back had stiffened. She uncurled her spine and stretched each painful kink. The authorities went to a lot of trouble to make their tests authentic.
Footsteps sounded on the flagstones behind her. She turned and her eyes widened. Finch walked towards them with the lithe agility of a supremely fit man, something that hadn’t been apparent when he’d acted like a vagrant. He’d washed and combed his hair and trimmed his beard, and the slack tiredness of a long-held prisoner had miraculously dropped away.
He’d also changed into another shirt, the sleeves of which were rolled up on his strong forearms, exposing his hands and a silver signet ring on his little finger. Something about his lightly tanned skin sent a sharp awareness through her and she glanced at him to see if he was conscious of her regard. But his eyes were focused on Mr. Booth.
‘Ah, Finch, good to see you’ve survived your incarceration.’
A slight smile tugged at Finch’s mouth. ‘It wasn’t so bad sir, not with the meals and wine which I thank you for providing.’
Meals and wine? So that’s why the officer had pulled him out of the cell! A chasm of ill-usage opened up inside her but she dared not show her true feelings in case Mr. Booth locked her up again.
‘Does Miss Perran join me?’ Finch continued.
‘Yes. She’s been made aware of the consequences should she disobey the terms.’
At this, Finch shot her a look, his expression speculative. Although what he could be thinking she had no idea.
‘Are you packed?’ Mr. Booth asked him.
‘Except for Miss Perran’s clothes, we can leave immediately.’
‘Good. See that you get away soon. The director will be expecting you by Friday.’
So Finch worked for the spy network. She might have guessed he’d be involved and now she’d be spending more time in his company. And even though he didn’t look as rough as he had in the cell, his features were still uncompromising and she was very much aware of him and the hard stare he’d given her attire.
She fingered the folds of her stained skirt. ‘What’s wrong with my clothes?’
Finch looked at her, his face serious. ‘They’re too badly worn and will draw attention. You have been provided with a new dress, shoes and cloak and everything you currently own must be left behind.’
‘Everything?’ Her skirt and bodice were badly crushed but they were hers and the last link she had with Fencarrow.
‘It’s for the best.’ His voice didn’t sharpen but she felt the blade underneath. ‘No need to be reminded of past memories.’
His strained voice told her he had memories too. Had he become a spy like her? If so, then she almost pitied him. Almost.
She looked down at her clothes with a sense of loss. ‘So where are we going?’
‘You’ll learn soon enough.’
Seeing her frown, Mr. Booth added, ‘The network is a well-guarded secret and its location is never disclosed.’
He stepped forward and for a moment she thought he’d take her hand. ‘It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Miss Perran. Go with Finch now and forget your time here. You will be in the hands of the network’s most experienced spy.’
Finch stood silent and at ease. He’d fooled her once already and she had no wish for it to happen again.
Her gaze swung back to Mr. Booth. ‘And I’m to trust you in this?’
‘Miss Perran,’ he said with narrowed eyes, ‘you would do well to understand that I mean what I say.’
His curt voice struck her forcibly and she flinched under his icy stare. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good,’ Mr. Booth said. ‘I trust you do well and use the fighting spirit you have shown already. Goodbye, Miss Perran. Do not let me down.’
He walked out of the courtyard, leaving her standing alone with Finch.
A frisson of fear slid down her back as the spy frowned at her, his hands on his hips. ‘First things first. Your name
.’
‘You know my name. Or did you think I’d lied about that?’
‘I did not think that, no,’ he said quietly. ‘But I cannot call you Miss Perran if we are to travel the roads. We go as unobtrusively as possible, playing the part of brother and sister, and it would look wrong for me to address you by such a formal title.’ He tilted his head and the sunlight glinted off his black hair. He looked more like a devil than a brother but at least with her dark hair they might pass for siblings.
‘It’ll be better if I call you Lily,’ he said after consideration, ‘and you’d better call me John. We will be the Ashton family. Think you can manage that?’
She gave him a quick smile, not wanting to show how afraid she was of him. ‘Certainly. Is John your real name?’
‘No.’ He glanced at the sun, his eyes taking in the angle of the light. ‘It grows close to midday and we have a long journey ahead of us. Food and water have been provided in the cell as well as your new clothes. You can wash and after you have changed and eaten, make your way back here.’
‘I will … John.’
He squinted at her, assessing her without humor. ‘You have half an hour Adeline, no more. Now, hurry.’
Her heart tripped at the hardness she saw there and picking up her skirts she hastened across to the door that led back to the passageway. At the threshold she couldn’t help but glance behind her.
Finch stood watching, as solid and unrelenting as the cliffs along Fencarrow’s headland. He would be a formidable companion, and for better or worse, she was now under his charge.
He crossed his arms and began to tap his foot. ‘You’ve wasted precious minutes already.’
On an inward breath she fled.
Chapter Six
Adeline heaved a deep sigh at the sight of bread and cheese in the cell. She’d been half afraid they would trick her again. She grabbed a handful of each and almost inhaled them. The warm bread and the moist succulent cheese were the sweetest, most delightful thing she’d ever eaten. She wanted to savor each heavenly morsel but with Finch in a hurry, she dared not take too long.
She cleaned the plate and with her empty stomach now full, washed her face and hands and donned a brown dress, a blue hooded cloak and a pair of laced calf-boots. The clothes were grander than any she had owned and fitted surprisingly well.
Out in the yard Finch leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, seemingly at a slumber. But at her appearance, he unwound his frame and came towards her, carrying a small leather satchel.
‘Ready?’
His gaze skipped over her attire and she bit her lip, absurdly self-conscious. ‘I think so.’
He looked at her with a piercing steadiness that seemed to see inside her. ‘This journey will be the least of your worries. Follow me.’
He went out the door with the iron lock and she traipsed along in his wake. They emerged into another courtyard, similarly lined with stone blocks, but this one opened on the east side to a cobbled lane. Standing in the lane were two horses — a large chestnut and a smaller bay.
‘Oh,’ she said on an indrawn breath, ‘We’re riding?’
He walked across to the chestnut and flung his satchel on the horse’s back. ‘For the time being.’
She followed and watched as he strapped his luggage to the saddle, ensuring it would not bounce around as he rode. ‘So that’s why you asked if I liked horses?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are we going far?’
‘No.’
‘And when we get to wherever we’re going, what do we do then?’
Finch turned to her with a growl. ‘You ask a lot of questions.’
She flushed. ‘My father says that too.’
‘An astute man.’
A trembling smile escaped her and his impassive face, usually so grim and contained, relented momentarily. ‘We get a coach further on. I want to leave here without people asking us our business.’
‘Does it matter that people know? It’s hardly a secret that I leave here with you.’
He gave the strap one more tug to test its firmness then stepped back to her, his voice deadly soft. ‘First lesson. Never assume that people are who they pretend to be. An ostler could be a spy. A coachman could be in the pay of the French. There are many people willing to turn traitor for a gold coin.’
As a first lesson it was pointedly made and she looked at the windows of the neighboring buildings. Were people watching them leave?
A creepy feeling crawled over her skin. As a spy she’d need to become an observer, an outsider, always wary of others, and for the first time understood a little of Finch’s aloofness.
He motioned her over to the bay horse and she mounted. Finch had chosen a small saddle in keeping with her stature and attached was a small pannier. She lifted the flap and peered inside. Nestled in a cloth lay a small loaf of bread, a wedge of hard cheese and two apples. At least the network didn’t mean to starve her again.
Finch threw himself onto his horse with an easy grace and wheeled around. ‘Stay close and keep your head down. We don’t stop for anything until we’re well beyond the town.’
She nodded and pulled the hood of her cloak lower. Then kicking in her heels she urged her horse down the lane into a maze of back roads, thick with dust.
It was wonderful to be outside. She breathed in the smell of the horse’s coat and relished the wind across her face. Being cooped up, first in the cabin and then the cell, made her more than grateful for being outdoors.
They rode past women hanging out washing and children playing in the street, their voices shrill with laughter. She’d always imagined having children some day. But now that she was a spy that day might never come.
Sadness dulled her as they rode slowly to avoid suspicion, eventually turning eastwards along a track that curved around the bay. Soon they left the sea behind and forged inland.
Her little horse seemed to be a solid ride and her nerves settled as she threw off her hood and took in the beauty of the area. The heathland was home to bird species she did not know and the valleys held dragonflies by the hundreds that rose in swarms as they passed. For hours they crossed salt marshes and sticky mudflats before heading into an emerald forest, lit from within by the dappled light of the sun.
Finch rode in front but at a pace that did not leave her lagging behind. He sat erect, his body in command, hour after hour without any noticeable fatigue.
The same could not be said of her however, and when he reined in beside a trickling brook, she gladly dismounted and eased the ache in her legs.
‘Where are we?’ The glade they’d stopped in was hemmed on all sides by trees and scrub. Afternoon shadows rippled on the water where willows overhung the brook.
‘Near Southampton.’ He led both horses to the water for a drink. ‘We’ll stop here for a rest then go on to an inn where the coach is waiting for us.’
Her eyebrows drew together. ‘This has all been arranged?’
‘Peregrine, the director of the network, is a very organized man.’
Indeed. He must have worked quickly to have everything in place for them. Or perhaps he had counted on her taking the job. Not a lot of people would choose transportation.
She eased off her cloak and lifted her heavy braid from the back of her neck, letting the cool air of the glade soothe her overheated skin. ‘Are we going to eat now?’
A crinkled line appeared around Finch’s eyes. ‘After seeing your punishing performance on the cell door, I dare not stop you.’
She dropped her braid and jumped up to fetch her pannier. ‘That wouldn’t have been necessary,’ she said crossly, ‘if I’d been treated like a normal person.’
‘But then we wouldn’t have known if you were to be trusted and that’s important in our work.’ He grabbed the horses’ reins and hobbled them under a willow near the bank.
‘The network goes to a lot of trouble to test people.’ She dug out her hard cheese and bit into it. The sharp, salty tang was s
urprisingly pleasant. ‘Why don’t they just ask people to spy instead of all that subterfuge?’
‘It’s not that simple,’ Finch said, unstrapping his satchel. ‘When a man’s life is in danger we need people we can rely on. Only a real-life test brings out the strengths and weaknesses of a person.’
Perhaps, although she’d only gained a level of distrust of him that even now, he did nothing to dispel. ‘Did you undergo a test too?’
‘Yes but not the same one.’
‘What did you have to do?’
‘It’s not important.’
Her lips tightened. Truly he was a most vexing companion. Just when she thought she could find out more about him, he clammed up. ‘What about your terms then? Are they the same as mine?’
‘No.’
She scrutinized him. Perhaps his terms were less onerous or maybe he had none at all. But the network’s most experienced spy might have superior orders — to shoot perhaps, on the slightest provocation. Should he do so, he would be ruthless, of that she was certain.
The shadows amongst the trees suddenly seemed oppressive and she found it hard to swallow her mouthful of cheese. Finch put his satchel on the ground and opened it. Inside was a cloth bundle that held a lethal looking knife and similar food to her own — except for the fruit.
‘Don’t you like apples?’ He looked at her with a frown and she pointed to the cloth. ‘Yours are missing.’
‘I gave them to the horses while you were changing in the cell.’
So he did care about something. ‘You look after the horses well.’ She started on her bread, finding it a little dry from the long hours in the pannier. ‘You rode within their limits and tended to their needs before your own.’
He grunted and cut a wedge of cheese with his knife. ‘You’re observant. That is good.’ He balanced the cheese on a slice of bread then faced her with a steady regard. ‘Lesson number two. Always care for your transport, your weapons and yourself. Everything must be in excellent condition, ready at a moment’s notice.’
‘For what?’
‘Ambush or flight. Definitely battles. You can’t be caught out unprepared. It would be instant death.’
An Unwilling Spy Page 6
