Palace of Spies

by Sarah Zettel

  The only support I had left during that whole long, agonizing day was the hope that Matthew would be assigned the commission to fetch Mr. Thornhill’s supplies from town. A water taxi such as had brought me here could accomplish the trip in two or three hours, if the weather was fair. My message might reach Olivia today. She would understand it at once. But even if Matthew did not succeed today, tomorrow would be soon enough. Surely it would be. Mr. Peele could not expect me to leave tonight. He said I should have Olivia help me. He would at least wait until she arrived. I still had time. I must have time.

  I fear that hope of Mr. Reade’s speed and efficacy felt very frail, drowning as I was under the weight of my mistakes, accompanied by visions that alternated murder with self-murder. So crowded and distracted was my mind, in fact, that I almost failed to notice when we were dismissed to rest and change for that evening’s gathering. By then, my head was aching in truth and I was ready to claw out my blurred and itching eyes. If ever I found the opportunity to speak again with Mrs. Abbott, I would thank her for sparing me belladonna’s ravages.

  Mary Bellenden left our fine flock first when we maids of honor reached the top of the grand staircase. She strode into her room calling ostentatiously for her maid. “Bring me a powder, Mellon. Something has soured my stomach terribly!”

  “So delicate, our Mary,” remarked Sophy. “I should send Abbott to her. The woman brews the most wonderful tisanes. Oh, I’m sorry. Was that indiscreet?” She smiled and picked up her skirts to skip quickly away, which was probably just as well. I’d been aching to kick something all day, and her ankles were a tempting target.

  “Don’t worry, Fran.” Molly laid a hand on my arm. “I’ll bring Jessop to you. Have you seen her yet? She’s very keen. I’ve often thought she would be an excellent lady’s maid for someone. She’ll make sure you’re beautiful this evening.” She hugged me and whispered in my ear. “And for God’s sake, don’t let Sophy tease you anymore. You’ll get a crease in your forehead if you keep looking like that.”

  I murmured back something that I hoped would pass for a promise and went into my room. There was clean water in the ewer on the dresser, and a towel beside it. I bent over the basin and bathed my eyes quickly and lavishly until the itching eased.

  I was still dripping when I heard a soft scratching at the door. I almost asked Mrs. Abbott to open it, before I remembered she was not there and I must shift for myself. But I had no time to start forward, because the person on the other side took it upon himself to open the door and walk in.

  It was Robert.

  “This is for you,” he announced brusquely, and thrust his silver tray at me. A tiny scrap of paper lay in its center.

  I unfolded it. A brief note had been written out in a firm hand I did not recognize. On my way. Will return tonight.

  “It’s from that ’prentice, isn’t it?” Robert demanded.

  “How should I know?” I answered back, in no mood to coquette. “It’s unsigned. Where did you find it?”

  “I passed by your door in hopes of stealing a word with you, and it was tucked into the latch.”

  You read my note! Anger flared bright and innervating.

  “What are you doing with that fellow, Fran?” Robert was asking.

  “What are you doing with the Howe behind the timber pile?” I snapped in answer.

  I expected vociferous denial. What I received was an impatient sigh that was flavored most distinctly with regret. He should go on the stage, I thought as I watched Robert hang his head. I’ve never seen such a performance.

  “I wondered if we were going to come to that,” he said, much more to the toes of his buckled shoes than to me. “Fran, how many times have I told you? You are not to mind anything I do with the Howe. I have to keep her quiet, that’s all.”

  “She didn’t seem very quiet this morning,” I muttered.

  Robert did not seem in the least surprised that I should speak in so direct a fashion. Doubtlessly Sophy had made sure that he knew they’d been seen, and by whom. Indeed, I could imagine her speculating out loud on what I might be doing hurrying down to Thornhill’s workshop so early in the morning. That had been another mistake on my part. I should never have assumed that all the important and noteworthy eyes would still be sound asleep when I took my little jaunt.

  “It changes nothing, Fran,” said Robert, slowly, making sure each word was clear and distinct. “As long as Sophy believes I am her creature, she will not make extra difficulties for you.”

  A laugh escaped me then, and another, and another, until I was lost in a torrent of joyless noise. My knees buckled, and I collapsed backwards onto the sofa. If this was the Howe not making extra difficulties, then heaven help me if she ever did truly concern herself with me.

  “Hush, Fran, hush.” Robert knelt at my feet and grasped both my hands. “You must calm yourself. Someone will hear!”

  What did it matter? So the Howe would hear that Robert had been in my rooms. I wiped at my streaming eyes. Thought and sense reeled, and I could bring no order to them. What could I do? What could I say? All I had to fall back on at this moment was Francesca’s much reported sweetness of character.

  What would a kind, good, silly girl want to know from this man now?

  “Do you love her?”

  Robert stood up. He walked over to the window and lifted the edge of one velvet curtain to peer out. I don’t know what he saw, but I suspect it had nothing to do with the fact that it had begun raining again.

  “I thought I did,” he said, “once upon a time. Isn’t that how the stories go? She was so witty and so sure of herself. I was . . . flattered when she singled me out.” He turned toward me once more, and when he spoke again, a strength filled his voice. “That was before I ever met you, Fran. Before I understood true love belongs to the true heart.” He came back and rested his hands on my shoulders. “Remember what I told you? God has given me a second chance. I do not mean to waste it. Whatever you’ve seen, Fran, whatever I’ve done, it was for us. So we can be together.” He put his hand under my chin and tipped my face up so I had to look at him.

  “Do you remember that night we watched the fireworks? When you stole away to meet me in the fountain court?”

  I took Robert’s hand and removed it from my chin, slowly and keeping gentle hold of his fingertips, so it would not seem I rejected his touch. All the time, my mind worked feverishly. “You tell it, Robert. I want to hear you.”

  Robert smiled in fond amusement at this. “When I saw you coming up the lane, like a queen, your cloak billowing in the breeze, I was struck dumb. I couldn’t believe one man could be so lucky,” he murmured. “Just to sit with you by the fountain was a moment of perfection. I remember how delighted you were that we could see the fireworks twice: first in the sky and again in the fountain basin. It was like being lost in a world of light, you said.” He smoothed back a crease in my glove’s silk from my fingers, to see the shape of them better. “If I’d died right then, I could have been happy.” He spoke these words to our joined hands. “I would have left the cause for you. I couldn’t believe I felt that much, even as I was saying it. But you wouldn’t let me leave. You always understood how important it was to be loyal. I’ll never forget . . .” His voice faltered. “When you spoke about all the damage you’d seen from the ones who deserted what they’d sworn to uphold.” He squeezed my fingers gently. “You thought that’s what I’d done this morning, didn’t you?”

  I nodded mutely. My envy for Francesca returned in force. For a sweet, silly girl, she always seemed to know exactly what to say. She was lucky too, the way her troubles conspired to hide one another. At least until the end.

  “Set your heart at rest, Fran. Please.” Robert kissed my knuckle and smoothed his palm over the slight damp patch the gesture left behind. “What Sophy’s doing . . . she’s jealous, Fran. She’s discovered I don’t love her, but she’s like a child who can’t bear to let go of a toy. She has to try to keep all of her hold over me, an
d for now, just for now, I have to pretend, or she’ll have me dismissed before I can complete my task. Remember our night by the fountain. You even wept for her. I couldn’t believe it. She’d been so spiteful to you, and you wept for her, lamenting how hurt she must be to behave in such a fashion.”

  I closed my eyes so they would not widen in pure and unsullied disbelief. What sort of saint could weep for Sophy Howe? There was naive and good, and there was inhuman. It could not be true. Love was not only blind, it was playing tricks with Robert’s memory.

  Suddenly, it all seemed too much. I could not bear any more of this litany of the other Francesca’s impossible perfections. What I really wanted to do was fling the fact of her sacrifice back in Robert’s face. I wanted to scream at him that she was dead because of him and his errands and his loyalties. Dead and in her grave because of all that he had dragged her through.

  I am a girl in love, I reminded myself strenuously. I believe what I am told. “I cannot bear this much longer, Robert.”

  “I have one last errand to complete. Then we go.” He caressed my cheek once more. “Will you be able to keep your nerve just another few nights?”

  “I don’t know.” I drew my fingers out from between his and rubbed my tired eyes. “I’m so very good and so very simple. Are you sure I can be trusted that long?” I bit my lip, but the words were already out and the shock of them showed in Robert’s eyes.

  “I don’t understand what’s come over you,” he murmured. “This business with that apprentice, and now you don’t even say thank you for my getting rid of that dragon for you —”

  “You? You did that?”

  “Who else? Fran, I’ve been putting the idea to Sophy for the past week. Now you’re free of her spying and—” He stopped. “You really didn’t know this was my doing, did you?”

  “How could I, Robert?” The feeling of dark and still water closing overhead engulfed me. I had strayed too far from my role. “You said nothing, and it’s all been so upsetting . . .” I blinked rapidly, trying to work some tears up into my eyes.

  Robert was a long time answering. “Yes, yes, of course. I am sorry.” He paused again. “I need to ask a last favor of you, Fran.” His face was drawn, the way it got when he was worried. The words he spoke came slowly, as if they had to travel a great distance to reach his lips. “I didn’t want to . . . I don’t want to . . . This is the last and only thing I will ever ask of you. I need you to keep something for me, and keep it quite safe. Could you do that?”

  I wanted with all my heart to refuse, but I had tripped up too many times during this conversation. “Of course I will.” I hoped any hollowness in the smile I turned up to him now might be attributed to weariness.

  Robert pulled a packet of papers from inside his coat. They were tied in blue ribbons and sealed with plain blue wax. “Fran, I know how hard this has been.” He laid the papers in my hands. “I have been dying inside these past weeks, seeing how you’ve suffered for what I’ve had to do. Just a little more time is all I ask. Then I’ll be able to deliver what I keep to its destination, and we’ll be safe away. To Edinburgh, or perhaps even to Paris. Would you like to live in Paris, Fran?” He gave me a smile I’m sure was meant to be encouraging. “They have the finest dressmakers in the world there. I’ll fit you out like the queen among maids that you are. We’ll be married in the heart of the city, with all the cathedral bells ringing.”

  “It sounds too beautiful to be true.”

  “I will make it true. I’ll wrap Paris in a silken ribbon and lay it at your feet, as I always meant to do.” He took my face in both his hands. “For you are my true, my only, and my dear one. That is what you are and all you are.” He closed my fingers around the packet and smiled, but that smile was strained, and when he spoke again, it was to the papers, not to my eyes. “All will be well. God is good, and He has not deserted us, or our cause.” There was a ferocious hope in those words, the kind that one lays on most thickly when one is seeking to bury an equally ferocious doubt. “Our success will prove it. You can manage Sophy. I know you can. Just be your own sweet self with her. She was starting to come around before you took ill. She even sent you that box of bonbons, didn’t she?”

  Sophy sent her rival a box of bonbons? That was almost as likely as her putting herself out to win the loyalty of a footman who hadn’t any more pennies in his purse than she had in hers. Still, now was not the time to argue this point. I made myself smile once more, and let Robert kiss my brow and my cheek, and steeled myself to protest as I felt his hand glide down my shoulder while he leaned in closer.

  Someone knocked at the door. Robert cursed and jumped away. Our eyes met for a moment, before he snatched up the silver tray and strode to the door. By the time he was there, he was the personification of the perfect palace footman.

  He opened the door, bowing smoothly as he did so.

  Matthew walked in, shedding rain from his hat and cloak. With him walked a woman in a hooded, rain-spattered black cloak that showed about an inch of mud-stained hemline beneath. The cloak was opened just far enough that I could see she hugged a huge wicker basket tight to her chest.

  Robert straightened up. His eyes met Matthew’s, and the two men stared at each other. I had a sudden vision of pistols and drawn swords passing back and forth between their imaginations.

  “What you sent for, my lady.”

  The young woman came forward with her basket and dropped a curtsy. I lifted the basket’s latch. In the next instant, a river of white fur and barking exploded in every direction.

  “Oh, merciful God!” I cried.

  It wasn’t one dog, it was the entire fluffy flock, and they were now scattered all about my room, barking and wagging and growling at everything that did not get out of their way.

  “Is something wrong, my lady?” murmured the young woman, lifting her face just a tiny bit.

  Just enough so I could see I’d been right. Olivia had not sent a maid to bring her dogs to me. She never would do such a weak-kneed thing. She’d come her own self, and she grinned at me now.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  IN WHICH OUR HEROINE INDULGES IN FOND REUNION AND DISCOVERS FRESH COMPLICATIONS INVOLVING PAINT, POWDER, AND SMALL DOGS.

  “Thank you, Robert,” I said as calmly as I could manage. I did not look at him. All I could see was Olivia’s eyes, shining with merriment at the success of her adventure. All I could hear was relief and joy singing their exultant chorus in my heart. I forgot all other dangers and difficulties. I forgot that my rapport with Robert was in a most precarious state. Olivia was here, and all that mattered was that I must remove his prying eyes as quickly as possible. “You may go.”

  “If you’re certain, my lady,” said Robert. Even deafened by my own relief as I was, I heard the suspicion in his voice. I made myself glance toward him and give him a smile meant to convey reassurance. It probably would have had a more significant effect if Matthew had not been there with us and if I had not I still been clutching the papers Robert had entrusted to me.

  “I believe the lady was quite clear,” said Matthew, exercising that male privilege of speaking for any female present.

  He and Robert sized each other up again. I ground my teeth together, largely to help suppress my urge to box both their ears. I did, however, take that moment when their attention was so focused to lay the papers on my writing desk, where they would at least be less conspicuous.

  Unfortunately for Robert, there was only one way this challenge of masculine wills could end. He held the lower rank, at least to all appearances, and so he must bow, and with a final wary, warning glance in my direction, must leave. I let my eyes shift toward the now hidden papers, hoping to reassure him, but he was out the door before I could be certain I had succeeded.

  Matthew shut the door. I whisked around and ran to Olivia, shoving back her cloak’s hood so I could see her clearly.

  “Cousin!” I did not care that I shrieked. I could have shouted from the rooftops and danced
down the lane in my petticoats and not cared one jot.

  “You’re all right!” Olivia cried as we embraced. “Oh, Peggy, I’ve been so frightened! But you’re truly all right!”

  I will gloss over the kissing and crying that followed. I mustered enough rationality to divest Olivia of her sodden cloak and lead her to the fire, where she could begin to dry her soaked and too-short hems, but no more. For this blessed moment suspicion and decorum both were forgotten. I could even forgive the dogs their whining and wagging and dodging between us while I embraced my best and truest friend tightly, reassuring myself that she was indeed here with me.

  “But . . . but the palace!” spluttered Olivia when emotion’s tide had ebbed and we were both finally able to talk sensibly again. “I saw the advertisement, of course, and the original direction for Thames bridge, and then when Mr. Reade brought your message . . .” She glanced toward Matthew, who had moved to the sofa and had the dogs clustered around him. He’d brought out a piece of cake from somewhere, possibly his pocket, and was busy making friends with the greedy creatures in the most direct way possible, all the while studiously pretending to ignore us. Olivia didn’t believe the pretense any more than I did, and drew me to the farthest corner of the room. “Peggy, what have you done?” she whispered.

  Of course I understood her fear. Olivia knew as well as I did that there existed few routes by which a girl might quickly increase her wealth and consequence. Most of those ended in some man’s bed, and probably not as his wife.

  “It’s all right, Olivia.” I squeezed her hand. “And you can speak freely in front of Mr. Reade. He’s a true friend.”