Spyfall

by Carter, Elizabeth Ellen

  Susannah curtsied to her hostess.

  “I’m so pleased you accepted my invitation. I imagine it would have come as a surprise, but you’ll soon get used to the way I do things. Susannah – Mrs. Linwood – allow me to introduce my daughter, Marie.”

  The pretty girl, with light brown hair and slender build, was aged about sixteen by Susannah’s reckoning. The young woman bobbed a curtsy.

  “And I’d like you to make the acquaintance of Olivia, Mrs. Adam Hardacre.”

  The woman, aged in her late twenties, extended a hand. She was smartly dressed but nowhere nearly as expensively as their host. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Linwood,” she offered.

  Suddenly the sound of her assumed name didn’t seem right to Susannah’s own ears.

  “Please, call me Susannah.”

  “Then you must call me Olivia.”

  From the corner of her eye, Susannah saw Lady Abigail nod to the maid and request tea be served.

  “Adam tells me that you run a lovely little inn on the north coast,” Olivia Hardacre continued.

  Susannah was startled that this woman, a perfect stranger, should know anything about her. And yet, why wouldn’t a husband tell his wife about his work?

  Jack didn’t. The thought came to mind unbidden, although she supposed it wouldn’t be fair to judge all marriages by her own.

  “Yes, at St. Sennen. It’s a lovely village and we’ve grown very fond of it.”

  “We?” Lady Abigail asked. “You mean yourself and Mr. Payne?”

  “No…” Susannah replied, somewhat nonplussed by her ladyship’s inquiry and the look of surprise on Olivia Hardacre’s face.

  The arrival of the tea at that moment was welcome. The three returned to their seats and Susannah took a spare velvet upholstered seat next to Marie Ridgeway.

  The moment her cup was poured, Susannah brought it to her lips even without sugar and milk to give herself time to decide how to elaborate on her answer.

  “I arrived at St. Sennen with my housekeeper after I was widowed. I decided we should run The Queen’s Head together. As partners.”

  Lady Abigail saluted her with her cup. “An enterprising woman! I’m beginning to like you more and more, Susannah. You will be a lovely addition to our circle.”

  Susannah frowned. Lady Abigail ploughed blithely on.

  “Olivia was a governess before she married Adam nearly a year ago,” she continued. “Sir Daniel and I were wed twelve years ago on, shall we say… a visit to Paris. You see, my dear, we are all married to spies.”

  It dawned on Susannah there was more to the introductions than met the eye.

  “I think there has been some kind of mistake,” she said. “You’ve been kind enough to extend an invitation to me on the belief that I have some kind of attachment with Nathaniel Payne.”

  “Don’t you?” Lady Abigail inquired mildly.

  Susannah could not help quickly rising to her feet, nor the words she blurted out. “Most certainly not!” Their shared intimacy – their kisses and caresses – did not in any way constitute the promise of an attachment.

  “I’m sure that will come as a surprise to Nathaniel,” the older woman added.

  Olivia Hardacre shifted in her seat uncomfortably to look at Susannah directly and with no small degree of sympathy.

  “Susannah, I can understand your confusion. This is a rather unusual situation, and I’m sure Lady Abigail doesn’t mean to offend by making assumptions about your relationship with Mr. Payne.”

  “Quite so…” offered Lady Abigail, but her solicitous tone was betrayed by the slight upward quirk at the corners of her mouth.

  “If I might clarify,” Olivia continued, “England is in great peril. Greater than has been publicized in the newspapers. There are men who are tasked with identifying and dealing with specific threats.”

  “You mean Sir Daniel and your husband?”

  “Yes. And now your Mr. Payne.”

  Susannah lowered herself back into the chair.

  “Adam invited him to join the organization when he was in St. Sennen but Nathaniel refused. Not in so many words, but I believe he did indicate you were one of the main reasons why he declined.”

  “Three weeks later, he arrived on the doorstep of Charteris House to throw his lot in with The King’s Rogues.” continued Lady Abigail. The woman watched Susannah keenly, but also with a hint of sly amusement.

  “The King’s what?”

  The woman shrugged, a small smile in her striking eyes. “Rogues. That’s what Daniel calls their league. They don’t have an official title or designation in the Home Office. They work…off the books, you might say. I rather like the name though – it adds a bit of dash and élan, don’t you think?”

  Susannah turned to young Marie Ridgeway, who was the only person yet to say a word. She returned a sympathetic look.

  “I’m afraid I cannot offer you any comfort here, Madame,” she said with the slightest hint of a French accent. “My adoptive parents have been spies all my life.”

  Susannah was vaguely aware that her jaw had dropped. “Both… your…” She turned back to Lady Abigail whose mirth was barely contained.

  “I have a mind to create a little ‘league’ of my own,” she offered with humor before her expression sobered.

  “Nonetheless, even if we have been premature in assuming your relationship with Nathaniel,” she said, “we would still like you to join us.”

  “I… I can’t. I have a business to run, responsibilities. I don’t have time to be a lady of leisure.”

  “Who said anything about leisure? This is all business. And that’s why you interest me, Susannah. You are a woman of discretion and strength of character. You have a good head on your shoulders and can keep a confidence.

  “Furthermore, the fact The Queen’s Head was once a smuggler’s inn with its own tributary to the Irish Sea is opportune. It would be an ideal base of operations.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Lady Abigail picked up her cup and took a long sip. She was deliberately slow in putting the cup and saucer back down onto the low table before her.

  “I’m sorry to insist, but information Nathaniel and Adam have brought back from Ireland has forced Daniel to reassess his planning. The threat of invasion from Napoleon is not necessarily going to come from France. It could very well come from Ireland.

  “I’m not suggesting taking over your inn, just that you take in some additional guests from time to time. Paying guests, of course.”

  Susannah started fidgeting with slim gold band on her finger, rotating it round and round. Nate had been furious when he left. How cruel would it be to force him to be in close quarters with her again, knowing what had gone on between them?

  Besides, she had been successful in hiding herself away in her own quiet little corner of Cornwall. Getting involved with Lady Abigail’s “league” – whatever that was – would ruin everything. Who knew what attention it might attract? And Robert Lawnton was looking for her. What if he managed to find her?

  “No. I cannot. I have Peggy to consider.”

  Marie discreetly excused herself, leaving her with Olivia Hardacre and Lady Abigail.

  “Do you think your friend would refuse?” Olivia asked gently.

  No. And that was a problem, too. At least she had Clem to look after her.

  Susannah forced herself to stop playing with her ring.

  “No, I suppose she wouldn’t,” she conceded, “but Peggy will ask questions and I won’t lie to her – or put her in any danger. The Queen’s Head may have the reputation as a smuggler’s tavern, but Peggy and I have cleaned it up, made it a respectable place.”

  “And we wouldn’t dream of asking for it to be otherwise,” said Lady Abigail. “Nor would we ask you to do anything that would put you or Peggy at risk. All we need is a place that is discreet and quiet for our men to spend a night or two. They will not draw attention to themselves and they will not draw attention to you.”


  The request seemed so perfectly reasonable that it made it near impossible to refuse, but there was still the matter of her husband and the shadow cast by Robert Lawnton.

  Susannah shook her head. Then she drew a deep breath.

  “There is something about my past that only Peggy and her fiancé know that makes it impossible for me to help you.”

  “Oh, tosh!” answered Lady Abigail with a flick of her hand. “We all have a past, some less savory than others.”

  Olivia gave the titled woman a mildly exasperated glance and leaned forward.

  “I can promise you that whatever you share with us will be kept in confidence,” she said. “And we promise not to press you further on your involvement with us.”

  “We’re a talented bunch, you know,” Lady Abigail offered cheerfully. “Olivia has quite a gift for ciphers. And I have particular talents for finding out information. I know all about your late husband, Susannah.”

  The offhand way the woman revealed that tidbit of information, as through it were merely some drawing room on dit, was simply beyond the pale. Susannah had to look away. In her lap, she saw how her fingertips were white at how tightly she gripped her wedding ring.

  Before she could mount a protest, Lady Abigail continued, but more softly. “I can guess at the pain you’ve been though, but I won’t presume to give you sympathy. You’re a resilient woman, Susannah – perhaps even more than you know.”

  “And love is worth the risk,” added Olivia. “Take it from someone who knows. My husband has a particular enemy. That man’s scheme put both his life and mine in mortal danger, but I couldn’t stop loving Adam, even if I’d wanted to.”

  She reached across and put a hand on Susannah’s.

  “Adam tells me that Nate still cares for you deeply.”

  Susannah felt her throat constrict. “He said that?”

  “Not in so many words. You know how men are. But there are signs.”

  Susannah felt her wall of reserve continue to break down. The question was past her lips before she could stop herself.

  “How is he?”

  Olivia looked to Lady Abigail. The two women seemed to communicate silently a moment. Olivia answered the question.

  “He was well when I saw him. He stayed with us when he and Adam recently returned home from an excursion into France.”

  France? He went back to France? She recalled the first time she saw Nate, starved and bruised. The ordeal had taken a toll on his mind as well as his body but still, he went back…

  “Is Nate still in Truro?” she asked.

  Olivia Hardacre shook her head. Disappointment cut the tender shoots of hope to the root.

  “He and Adam departed yesterday on a scouting mission along the east coast of Ireland.”

  Susannah swallowed against a rising tide of emotion of fear, regret, but also love. Now she prayed it wasn’t too late to tell him.

  “May I leave a message for him?”

  Lady Abigail smiled gently. “You may. In fact, I insist upon it.”

  Olivia Hardacre touched a hand to her arm. Looking into the other woman’s warm brown eyes, Susannah finally understood. The hollow feeling in her chest ever since Nate left was a sensation shared by Olivia. She loved her husband deeply and she worried for him.

  “I must say I’m grateful to Lady Abigail for encouraging my involvement,” she said. “When Adam is away, I’m not alone. And knowing I’m doing something to aid his work gives me additional comfort. That’s really what we’re offering, Susannah – friendship, support, and camaraderie. And that won’t change, even if you decide to play no active part.”

  Susannah sighed. “I need time to think about it. I need to speak to Peggy.”

  “Then I thank you. We—” Olivia nodded to include Lady Abigail, “—thank you.”

  Lady Abigail cleared her throat. “Well ladies, now that the introductions are out of the way, we should find something to occupy our time until luncheon is served.

  “My husband has forbidden me from playing Faro and, since Olivia doesn’t play whist, shall we take a turn about the garden? I think some fresh air will do us a world of good.”

  Susannah found it hard to believe that Sir Daniel could successfully forbid his wife anything. Her expression of disbelief obviously showed itself because the blonde woman laughed.

  “Let’s get to know one another better, Susannah, then I’ll tell you how I met my husband while cheating at cards.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Susannah found it strange she should feel energized rather than exhausted after her trip to Truro.

  Despite her reticence in giving a commitment to Lady Abigail’s league, she allowed herself to be persuaded to make a return to the town in a month’s time. After all, she had the final fitting for her gown then.

  Peggy’s wedding was two weeks away and, in her valise was the partnership deed her solicitor had prepared.

  You are more resilient than you know.

  Lady Abigail’s words stayed with her throughout her time in Truro – as did Olivia’s assurance that Nate cared for her still.

  It seemed vaguely surreal that two women she had never met before, who seemed to know all about her, had reassured her so deeply.

  She disembarked from the carriage at the coach stop, using the mounting stone to aid her descent, then waited for the postilion to unstrap her baggage from the back.

  As she turned away from the departing coach, Susannah saw something catch the light in the tall grasses at the roadside. It glinted in the early morning sun. She approached it to find a broken sliver of polished and painted timber.

  She picked up the piece and turned it over. A fleck of paint came off on her finger, a pale pink. She stared at it a moment, the shade familiar, then she spotted another larger piece of wood another yard beyond. The shape of it made itself known to her.

  Recognition cut deep in her chest. It was her wooden glove box and it had been destroyed.

  She clutched the pieces to her chest and looked down the road to where the slate grey roof of The Queen’s Head was just visible over the trees. How long had her box been here? Had anything else been taken? If it had, surely she and Peggy would have noticed.

  Prince, the lovely but useless guard dog he was, hadn’t raised a hue and cry either.

  Susannah shuddered. Who would do such a thing? She and Peggy were cautious and in such a small community there was very little real trouble. Occasionally, someone would be worse for the drink and lash out, but a stern lecture from her or Peggy, and a week’s ban from the inn was enough to sort out most ill manners.

  But this was different, much different.

  Peggy!

  In a sudden panic, she hurried down the road toward the inn as fast as she could go while lugging her bag. About one hundred yards away, Prince came bounding toward her, circling around and bounding at her heels.

  She did not slow.

  “Peggy!”

  Susannah called out for her a couple times more but there was no answer.

  Susannah barreled through the door. A few familiar faces turned from the bar to look at her quizzically.

  “Glad you’re back, Missus,” said Farmer Rowe. “We missed your smilin’ face we did.”

  Peggy entered the bar from the kitchen.

  “You’re back!” she greeted warmly, words tumbling from her mouth. “I was wondering why Prince shot out of here so excited. How was your trip? You must be exhausted. Go and put your bag away, then come on through to the kitchen and tell me all about it.”

  Susannah blinked rapidly. The men in the bar didn’t look worried, neither did Peggy. But the longer she stood there unmoving the more the other woman’s smile faded.

  “Are you all right, Duch?”

  Susannah shook herself.

  “Yes, a little tired from the trip, that’s all.”

  Susannah changed from her traveling dress, hanging it up to air and later brush down, into one of the dresses she normally wor
e while working in the tavern. As she changed, she glanced across to the pieces of her ruined glove box.

  Odd. Why would anyone destroy a box? It may not have been worth much but it still had value. Such wanton vandalism made no sense.

  When she returned to the kitchen, she decided to come directly to the point.

  “Did you have any trouble while I was gone?”

  “Trouble?” Peggy shrugged as she bustled about preparing a plate of cold cut meats for her. “Old Jago got himself a little argumentative last night if that’s what you mean. Oh, and we’ll have to follow up with the vintner’s again; they were one barrel short when they delivered this morning…”

  Her voice trailed off when Susannah said nothing.

  “Tressa,” Peggy instructed, “would you please mind the shop?”

  The young maid left her place at the stove to go out into the bar. Then it was only the two of them in the kitchen.

  “What’s going on, Duch?”

  Where to start first…

  “Is there anything missing?”

  Peggy frowned. “Missing? The occasional glass and fork, no more than usual.”

  Susannah took a deep breath. “Remember when I left a couple of days ago, I couldn’t find my gloves?”

  Peggy nodded.

  “I found my glove box. It was smashed near the high road.”

  The other woman’s eyes widened.

  “What?”

  Susannah nodded.

  Peggy shook her head vigorously, understanding Susannah’s question at last. “No, there’s nothing else been stolen. I would have known. Who do you think it was?”

  Now it was Susannah’s turn to shake her head. “I’d hate to think it was someone local. We know everyone around here.”

  Peggy’s face was red with ill-concealed anger.

  She went to the barroom door and stuck her head through. Susannah heard her address the late afternoon drinkers.

  “Right, you lot! Someone’s been a-thieving in these parts and stolen personal things from Mrs. Linwood’s room.”

  Even from a distance, she could hear a murmurs of disbelief and dismay from the regulars.

  “So keep your eyes open, fellas,” said Peggy.