A Spy's Devotion

by Melanie Dickerson

  Or paying so much attention to you either. But it seemed necessary to put on this show. She did not want them suspicious that she had taken the paper. But what would her uncle do when he discovered it missing? It was a terrifying thought. Perhaps she could read it quickly and deliver it back to his desk before he realized it was missing. But she had folded it two more times. He would surely notice that.

  Mr. Edgerton was saying something about her playing and singing. “. . . sounded just like an angel. My mother’s very words.”

  “Oh, how very kind,” Julia said, again looking down, trying to appear modest. “But you mustn’t flatter me. Phoebe does enough of that, but she is the dearest girl in the world and I could never do without her.” It was the kind of thing ladies often said to make themselves appear kind and flirtatious at the same time, but it was simply the first thing that came into Julia’s distracted mind. “I do love my cousin Phoebe. We are quite devoted to one another.”

  “Yes, of course. And I . . . I do not want you to think that I . . . well, that I would not be accommodating to the two of you living near each other.”

  The awkward look on his face was actually the most earnest one she had seen, and it stirred a strange mixture inside her, of pity, guilt, and horror—pity that he obviously wanted to marry her so much, which could never happen. Guilt that she was flirting with him while hoping to turn him in to the authorities for treason to the Crown. And horror at the thought of putting herself in this man’s power, of marrying a man who seemed to have no qualms about betraying his own country.

  Julia did not reply, pretending to be too abashed.

  Her uncle jumped in with some comments about the weather and the roads, and eventually Julia nearly forgot the paper in her bodice, though it was sticking her in the side.

  The visit seemed to be winding down. Mr. Edgerton stood. “May I call for you tomorrow? I should like to take you riding in my new curricle.”

  Julia hesitated. It was the last thing in the world she would want to do, but at the moment, she could hardly think past getting this note read and returned and reported to Mr. Langdon.

  “If my uncle does not object, I accept.”

  A smile spread over Mr. Edgerton’s face, making him look boyish—a great contrast to the fact that he was betraying king and country for money.

  Now that he was leaving, Mr. Edgerton moved slowly, taking Julia’s hand and kissing it. She kept her facial expression steady so as not to cringe.

  “Until tomorrow,” he said, no doubt thinking he looked and sounded gallant.

  As soon as he and her uncle left the room, Julia moved to the doorway and passed out behind them. They went toward the front door and she crept back toward her uncle’s study.

  She could not let him catch her in the study, so she ducked into the sitting room. Snatching the note out of her bodice, she unfolded it and quickly scanned it.

  Names. She had to write these down. She scurried to the tiny desk in the corner of the room and jerked open the drawer, taking out the inkpot, pen, and a sheet of parchment. Quickly she wrote down the four names, deeming them the most important information, and then tried to quickly convey the rest of the information in the paper—mainly the ship’s name and date of departure.

  Julia’s hand trembled as she folded the paper again and hid it against her skirt. She stepped back to the door and looked out. Her uncle was nowhere to be seen. But he could appear at the end of the corridor at any moment. Her heart stole her breath the way it was pumping so hard, but she dashed out into the corridor and slipped into her uncle’s study, running to the desk and laying the now wrinkled and creased paper where she had found it.

  Her heart pounded even harder as she made it to the doorway. Footsteps sounded at the end of the corridor. She skittered back toward the sitting room and rushed inside.

  Her uncle was coming down the corridor. Had he seen her? She couldn’t imagine he missed seeing her. She grabbed the paper she had copied the information onto and tried to fold it, crumpling it in her haste, and shoved it into her bodice. Was her uncle coming into the sitting room? Would he ask her what she was doing? Or would he go into his study and see the paper and know that she had read it?

  Her stomach churned at the thought of her uncle coming and finding her here, demanding her to tell him what she had done.

  What should she do? Should she calmly leave the sitting room and go up to her room? Or should she hide herself here and hope he had not seen her?

  She waited, listening. Only silence filled her ears. Finally, footsteps sounded just down the corridor. Her uncle was leaving his study. Were the steps coming closer? Or moving farther away?

  They were moving away. She stepped to the doorway and peeked out. Her uncle’s steps were fast. Was he angry? Did he realize someone had seen the incriminating paper?

  Julia waited until he was out of sight and quickly hurried up the stairs to her room and closed the door behind her.

  She placed her hand over her bodice. If she hid the paper in her room, her uncle could search and find it. But if she kept it in her bodice . . . surely he would not search her person. Her face burned as she remembered the way he had beaten his horse, the rage in his eyes. Would he look at her the same way? Would he realize she’d had just enough time to find the paper, read it, copy it, and replace it in his study? Would he be up here in her room to question her at any moment?

  If only she could run and give the note to Mr. Langdon before her uncle could find it.

  Not knowing what else to do, Julia threw herself across her bed and squeezed her eyes shut. “God help me,” she whispered. Who else could help her? Who could she turn to? Mr. Langdon was a respectable man. If she ran to his home right now and begged him for shelter, both their reputations would be ruined. He’d have to turn her away. His mother and sister would be horrified, and Phoebe would never forgive her.

  And how would Phoebe feel when she realized Julia had been spying on her father? Her father would be tried for treason. He could be hanged. Phoebe’s future would be ruined.

  Tears squeezed out the corners of her eyes. No, she could not cry. She had to get this paper to Mr. Langdon. As soon as she thought it safe, she would have to walk to the park and put it into the knothole in the oak tree.

  A knock came at her door. She sat bolt upright, placing her hand over the paper in her bodice. “Yes? Come in.”

  Her uncle opened the door. “Julia?”

  “Yes, Uncle Wilhern?”

  The look on his face was hard and suspicious, but didn’t he always look like that?

  “I think you should marry Mr. Edgerton right away.”

  “Right away? Oh.”

  “You have no objections, do you?”

  “Oh no, but when you say right away, do you mean—”

  “I mean by the end of the week. He plans to get a special license.”

  “The end of the week?” How could she put him off? He would become even more suspicious. “That is so soon. What will . . . what will I . . .” In her panic, tears stung her eyes.

  “I wish it. It is to be on Friday. I will see to the arrangements.” His jaw was hard and his eyes black and cold.

  Julia’s stomach turned inside out.

  “You do not object. Good. I have made up my mind and will not change it. Friday. It is your wedding day.” He seemed to grit his teeth together. “And, Julia, if you betray me . . .”

  He knew. Her cheeks tingled as the blood drained from her face. “Betray you, Uncle? Of course not. Whatever could you mean?” God, please let me look innocent.

  He stared hard at her. “Then you are willing to marry Mr. Edgerton on Friday?”

  Her breath came in shallow spurts, pulsing in her lungs. “I am.” What else could she say? She had no choice but to agree. But if she agreed too readily . . . she allowed two tears to fall onto her cheeks.

  At first her uncle merely stared. Finally, he said, “Think of how happy you are making my friend Mr. Edgerton.”

&n
bsp; Was that supposed to be comforting? She let another tear fall.

  “Well, then, I shall leave you. But do not forget your ride with Mr. Edgerton in the morning.”

  Julia found a handkerchief on her night table and wiped her cheek.

  Her uncle gave her one last penetrating look and then left the room.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Julia allowed the tears to come freely. She had never realized what a relief it was to cry. Perhaps Phoebe had discovered this quite some time ago, which was why she cried so often.

  After several minutes of letting the tears flow, Julia finally wiped her face and poured herself some water, all the while aware of the paper stabbing her under her arm beneath her clothing.

  Julia wandered about the room. Would it be safe to deliver her note to the message tree now? Or should she wait? No one ever noticed her in the mornings, but her uncle might follow her if she left now.

  She pulled the paper out of her bodice and stuffed it in her reticule. She took up her bonnet and went downstairs.

  No one was around. No one asked her where she was going. With any luck, she could get to the park and be back within ten minutes, and no one would even know she had left the house.

  She arrived at the park, making her face a picture of contentment and calm. It was the hour when many people were out, taking the air, walking or riding, and she was forced to acknowledge several people before she turned the corner to find her tree.

  She approached it and slipped the paper out of her reticule and then placed it into the knothole.

  She had done what she could. But anything could happen. Someone else could find her paper. Her uncle could realize what she had done, could easily imagine that Nicholas Langdon was her contact. After all, Mr. Langdon had been the one in possession of the diary. Not only that, but he was staying in London a suspiciously long time after his recovery from his injuries.

  What if her uncle had followed her and seen her put the paper in the tree? Or Mr. Edgerton? They’d make sure Mr. Langdon never received the information. Perhaps they would even kill Julia—and Mr. Langdon.

  She had to stop these racing thoughts. She concentrated on breathing and walking and not thinking.

  When she was nearly home again, a man turned the corner and was walking toward her. Julia’s breath went out of her, and she stumbled.

  It was Nicholas Langdon.

  He caught sight of her when she was still several feet away, and he smiled.

  She approached him. They were actually in sight of the Wilhern house. Anyone looking out of the front windows might see them. People were passing them on foot and in carriages.

  “Mr. Langdon.”

  “Miss Grey.” He tipped his hat to her and then leaned his head toward her. “Forgive me for saying so, but you are looking a bit pale. Are you unwell?”

  “There is something for you at the park,” she said as blandly as possible. Should she risk telling him that her uncle was planning to force her to marry Mr. Edgerton on Friday? Of course there was nothing he could do, and she did not want anyone seeing them talking.

  He kept his eyes trained on her face, as he said quietly, “Are you in danger, Miss Grey?”

  What could she say? “No. You should go. It’s very important.” She smiled to put him at ease and so no one would suspect that their conversation was anything but polite and appropriate.

  “Thank you, Miss Grey.” He said the words carefully. “If the worst happens, you will come to my home, to my sister, Leorah. Promise me.”

  “I shall try my best.” She had to blink quickly to push back the tears.

  He clasped her hand in his.

  “You should go before someone sees us.” When he looked reluctant, she said, “The best thing you can do for me is to take the note to our mutual friends and convince them to act upon it immediately.”

  “I shall leave you word, if I possibly can.”

  “Good day, Mr. Langdon.” Julia watched as his fingers let go of hers. She forced herself to continue the short distance to her front door.

  As she entered the front vestibule and began removing her bonnet, her uncle stepped from the front sitting room. “Was that Mr. Langdon I saw you speaking with?”

  “Yes. I took a short walk to the park, and he—”

  “Is there something between you and Mr. Langdon? What were you talking of?” Uncle Wilhern’s eyes were narrowed, a sharp look in the small dark orbs.

  “Nothing very particular. He . . . he asked after my health.”

  Her uncle stared at her. Julia began pulling off her gloves. “If you have no further need of me, Uncle, I shall go up to my room.”

  “Just a moment.” He seemed to be thinking, and then he said, “I want you to go and tell Phoebe you’ll be marrying Mr. Edgerton on Friday morning by special license.”

  Julia hesitated, but only for a moment. “Of course. I tell Phoebe everything.” She held her head high as she walked toward the stairs and started up. When she reached the top of the landing, she looked over her shoulder. Her uncle was still eyeing her. But at least he had not left the house and followed Mr. Langdon to the park.

  Julia headed toward Phoebe’s room, knocked lightly on it, and entered.

  Phoebe sneezed violently.

  “Phoebe, what is the matter? Are you unwell?”

  “You know I am never unwell.” Phoebe wrinkled her nose, a peevish tone in her voice. “But I do feel a bit feverish.”

  Julia stepped toward her and placed her hand on Phoebe’s brow. “You are very warm. I think you do have a fever.”

  “Well, I refuse to be sick.” Phoebe crossed her arms. “Don’t tell Mother, or she will make me go to bed.”

  “Perhaps you should go to bed, Phoebe.”

  “Not only will I not go to bed, but I want to go for a walk. Come, Julia. Let us walk to the park and see who is out and about.”

  The last thing Julia wanted to do was go for a walk with Phoebe and run into Mr. Langdon as he was retrieving her note.

  “I am not in the mood for a walk, Phoebe, but I did come to your room to tell you something important.” How well did Phoebe truly know Julia? Surely she would realize Julia had no desire to marry Mr. Edgerton.

  “Phoebe, I have agreed to marry Mr. Edgerton. We shall be married by special license on Friday morning.”

  Phoebe’s eyes grew wide. Then she sat down abruptly on the side of her bed. “You have accepted Mr. Edgerton? You are marrying on Friday?”

  No. “Yes.”

  “When did you accept him, Julia? Why did you not tell me?”

  “I only accepted him today. Your father wanted me to accept him.”

  “Mr. Edgerton is handsome. I am sure you will be content with him, Julia, as long as we can be settled near each other. I believe Father said Mr. Edgerton would buy an estate near Wilhern Manor so we could be close.”

  Carefully, Julia said, “You think I will be happy with Mr. Edgerton, then?”

  “I think so.” Phoebe suddenly placed her hand against her chest. “I am not feeling well. I think . . . I feel feverish.” She coughed and then moaned. “Fetch Mother. I think she will want to send for the doctor.”

  Was that all Phoebe had to say about the matter? But perhaps she was very sick after all.

  Julia turned and went to fetch Mrs. Wilhern.

  In four days she would be Mrs. Hugh Edgerton, as far as her uncle and Phoebe knew. But if her uncle and Mr. Edgerton were not apprehended on charges of treason and plotting to assassinate General Wellington before then, Julia would run away. She could go to the Bartholdys, but they were poor and she did not want to be a burden on them. They were kind and would take her in for a short while, but that was certainly not a long-term solution.

  She had overheard someone speaking of a governess position in the country, the Atherton family in Suffolk, who had six children. And suddenly, she was desperate enough to wish for that position, a way to make her own living and escape her uncle and Mr. Edgerton. She would w
rite to Mrs. Atherton today about the position.

  Mr. Langdon had said he would help her if she found herself in danger, but she didn’t think he meant this sort of trouble. She would see him tomorrow night as they were all attending an assembly. Perhaps she could let him know that time was running out for her.

  The next morning, Julia pulled the covers up to Phoebe’s chin.

  “I can’t be sick.” Phoebe peevishly swatted at the blanket.

  “You are coughing, you have a fever, and your nose and eyes are too red to fool anyone into thinking you are well.”

  Phoebe threw her head down into the pillow and burst into tears. “I’ll miss seeing Mr. Langdon at the assembly tonight. It’s not fair.”

  “If you don’t rest and get well, you’ll miss the trip to Bath later this week, and your aunt and uncle and cousins will be very disappointed in not seeing you.”

  Julia handed Phoebe a handkerchief. “You’ll only make your head hurt by crying. The physician said you must not upset yourself. You must drink your tea and take your medicine and you will be better in a few days. But if you don’t, it could go to your lungs, and that could be dangerous.”

  Phoebe blew her nose loudly and turned her head away. “You won’t go tonight without me, will you, Julia?”

  “No, of course not.” Julia tried not to sound disappointed. “Your mother and father will stay home as well, I’m sure.” Truly, it was best she did not see Mr. Langdon any more than was necessary. She didn’t want her uncle to see her talking to Mr. Langdon again. Besides, if Phoebe suspected even half of what Julia felt when she saw Mr. Langdon . . .

  “Get some sleep.” Julia squeezed Phoebe’s arm. “Send for me if you want me to come and read to you.”

  Phoebe sniffed but didn’t answer. Julia slipped out and went to her own room to secretly pack a bag, in case she had to leave in a hurry.

  Julia had hoped when she went to bed early that she would feel better in the morning.

  Phoebe’s fever had only lasted a few hours, and after three days she seemed to be recovering from her cough, but Julia’s throat hurt, her head ached, and a cough had started deep in her chest. That morning, she woke herself up coughing. Her whole body ached. Mrs. Wilhern and Phoebe would not be awake for quite a while longer, so Julia lay in bed, praying she wasn’t getting sick. Now, of all times, when it was only two days until she would have to escape by whatever means necessary from marriage to Hugh Edgerton.