A Spy's Devotion

by Melanie Dickerson

  I also wish to thank you for your service to me when I was sick, as well as your kind attention when I was injured a few weeks ago on Bishopsgate Street. You have been a charitable friend, and I am grateful. You are a most worthy gentleman, deserving of every good thing God might provide for your happiness. Therefore I wish you all of God’s blessings, including health, joy, and long life.

  There. That was not too forward. It conveyed a proper regard and thanked him for all he had done for her, while apologizing for not being able to speak with him in private as he had wished. But it did more to hide, rather than reveal, the extent of her feelings.

  Her first letter conveyed the truth, and if she were brave like Leorah, she would give him the first letter. Part of her wanted to. Part of her wanted to open her heart to him and be completely honest.

  No, it was too bold. He would think her improper. She would give him the safe letter and save herself the embarrassment of having said too much.

  She signed the second letter and folded it, writing Mr. Nicholas Langdon on the outside, just as a piece of paper slid under her door and scooted across the floor at her. She walked over and picked it up, unfolding it and reading:

  Miss Grey,

  Please do me the honor of meeting me in the garden in the morning at nine o’clock. I must speak with you. I greatly regret not being able to speak with you this afternoon, but I was inexorably detained for half an hour by two different people, and when I knocked on your door, there was no answer. Forgive me for my boldness, but I beg you not to leave for your new position without giving me the opportunity to speak with you.

  Your humble and obedient servant,

  Nicholas Langdon

  Her heart skipped a few beats at the urgent tone of his letter. But she would be gone well before nine o’clock in the morning. She could not possibly meet him. Mrs. Atherton had ordered the carriage to take her away at dawn.

  Perhaps she could find a way to speak with him tonight at the ball. Mrs. Atherton might be furious, but it might be worth it to dance with Nicholas Langdon one last time.

  Yes, that was exactly what she would do.

  Julia went and dug through her trunk until she found her best ball dress, the blue silk trimmed in silver embroidery. She pulled it out. The puff sleeves were a bit wrinkled, and the lace collar was not standing up as it should, but it would look well enough after she put it on and fluffed it a bit.

  Already she could hear people laughing downstairs. Did she have the boldness to do this? To go down and join the ball as if she were just another guest? Perhaps she would not be able to speak to Mr. Langdon even if she did go to the ball. If that were the case, Julia could slip the letter—the safe one—under his door tonight, before she went to the ball. He would surely see it when he went back to his room, and if he still wished to speak with her, he could find her before she left. After all, the ball would last almost until dawn.

  But she didn’t know which room belonged to him.

  She quickly put on the ball gown, which took longer to do by herself, and then hurried out of her room, down the back stairs to the kitchen, and found the scullery maid, Ellie, shoving firewood into the large stove. Cook was barking orders, sending the various other servants scurrying. No one was idle; everyone looked intent and red faced as they scurried about in the heat of the basement kitchen.

  How would she get Ellie’s attention?

  Julia watched and waited for Ellie to come into the hall. She heard Cook order the maid to help wash some vegetables. When she finished that task, she sent Ellie to make sure the fire in the music room was burning high.

  As Ellie was hurrying past her with a basket of coal, Julia followed behind. “Ellie, will you do something for me if I promise to help you with your work?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t at the moment, Miss Grey.” She continued her brisk pace without even looking back. “Cook and Mrs. Farnsworth would have my head if I stopped the slightest moment tonight, what with all the company in the house and the ball tonight and all the work that has to be done. And it wouldn’t be proper for you to do my work. I’m sorry, miss, but I can’t stop for even a moment.” And she didn’t stop as she hurried into the music room, Julia on her heels.

  “But all I need is to know”—Julia lowered her voice so no one else would hear—“which room belongs to Mr. Langdon.”

  Ellie knelt in front of the fireplace in the music room and refilled the coal grate. “He’s in the room at the top of the stairs, second door to the left.”

  “Is that the main stairs or the back stairs?”

  Ellie was already hurrying out of the room and headed back toward the kitchen. “Come back after the ball starts and I’ll show you.”

  “Oh, thank you, Ellie.” Julia went back up to her room to dress her hair.

  When she heard the music begin to play, she crept back downstairs to look for Ellie. On her way to the kitchen, she spotted movement in a darkened alcove.

  Julia stopped and plastered herself against the wall, hoping whoever was there would leave. Gradually two people came into focus, locked in an intimate embrace. A throaty, feminine laugh came to her just as the two broke apart, and Julia recognized Mrs. Tromburg and Mr. Edgerton.

  Julia held her breath, hoping they wouldn’t see her. Mr. Edgerton whispered something in Mrs. Tromburg’s ear, and then they turned and walked down the corridor away from Julia.

  Mr. Edgerton and Mrs. Tromburg? It hardly concerned Julia. She only had to find Ellie. At least perhaps this meant Mr. Edgerton would leave Julia alone tonight.

  It took several minutes, but Julia finally found Ellie, a grim and tired expression on her face. She was holding a long, lit candle in her hand. As soon as she saw Julia, she said, “Help me light the sconces upstairs?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Come with me.”

  Julia followed her up the stairs, three flights from the basement, and Ellie pointed to a door. “That’s Mr. Langdon’s room.”

  “Thank you, Ellie. I am very grateful to you.”

  “Here.” Ellie handed her the lit candle. “Light all the sconces on this floor and I’m much obliged to you, Miss Grey. And I will miss you when you’re gone. Yours was the kindest, prettiest face one was likely to encounter in this house.”

  Julia smiled back at the young girl, who couldn’t be more than fifteen but spoke like someone much older. “Thank you, Ellie.”

  Ellie was already hurrying downstairs to more work.

  Julia proceeded to light the wall sconces one by one. When she finished, she walked toward her room to fetch her letter to Mr. Langdon.

  She had tried to be so prudent, to conform to society’s every rule for young ladies. Now, what she was contemplating was against all the rules she’d once believed in.

  Whether she was able to speak to Mr. Langdon at the ball or not, she still wanted to give him the letter. She might not be able to say what she wished to at the ball. She should deliver the letter now while no one was in the hallways.

  As she entered her room, she stared down at the two letters. One of them said everything she longed to tell Mr. Langdon, the truth of her feelings and her situation. The other letter was the one polite society said she should write—if indeed she should write to Mr. Langdon at all. Which one should she give him?

  Of course, the prudent Julia would give him the more formal letter. But what if she took Leorah’s advice and stopped conforming? What if she said exactly what she felt, for once? What if she followed her heart and concentrated only on obeying God’s rules, instead of society’s rules?

  Julia snatched up both letters and headed back down the corridor toward Nicholas Langdon’s room. When she reached his door, she stared down at the two letters—the long one that said everything and the short one that said so little. Her hands trembled. Impulsively, she shoved the long one under his door and hurried back toward her room.

  And ran right into someone.

  “Miss Grey!”

  “Mr. Ath
erton.”

  He was holding her arms as she regained her balance.

  “Excuse me, sir. I was on my way—”

  “Julia, I have just been hoping I would find you.”

  Julia stepped back, firmly pulling away from his grasp. She held back a nervous laugh.

  “I must go now.” She tried to look and sound firm as she tried to step around him. He leaned to the side and prevented her.

  “You do not need to go now. Stay and speak with me for a few minutes. I’ve been wanting to have a private talk with you, and Mrs. Atherton tells me you will be leaving us in the morning.” His manner was more forceful than usual, his saggy cheeks red from whatever spirits he had been drinking.

  He suddenly moved in closer and ran his hand down her cheek.

  Julia recoiled, stepping back. He grabbed her arm and held her fast.

  “Let go of me, sir. You may not touch me.” Her voice was taut as heat rose into her face. She wrenched herself free of his grasp, but he caught hold of her other arm.

  “You are just a governess,” he hissed. “How dare you defy me?”

  Instinctively, Julia lifted her foot and stomped down on his, causing him to let out a tiny howl.

  He loosened his grip, which was all Julia wanted, and she ran past him, up the stairs, and to her own room. She slammed the door behind her and locked it. She went and pulled on her heaviest trunk and then pushed it up to the door and sat on it.

  Her hands shook like leaves in a storm, but she had escaped him. Could she risk going to the ball? What if she encountered Mr. Atherton again?

  Perhaps it was best she stay in her room after all. Her heart sank. What if she never saw Nicholas Langdon again?

  After the third dance, Nicholas began looking around for Edgerton. He wasn’t dancing, he wasn’t in the room with the refreshments, and he wasn’t in the drawing room playing cards. Earlier, before the first dance, Edgerton and Henrietta had been eyeing each other and talking through the first dance. He couldn’t remember seeing either of them since. He had not seen Miss Grey either.

  He approached Mrs. Atherton. “A splendid ball, Mrs. Atherton.”

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Langdon.” She squinted at him. “It is too bad about Mrs. Tromburg.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “You hadn’t heard? Mrs. Tromburg’s headache forced her to take to her room. She said not to expect her to come back down tonight. It is a shame, since I was only trying to cheer her up and distract her by giving this ball for her.” She clucked her tongue.

  “That is a shame.”

  “And poor Mr. Edgerton also was feeling unwell. But he told me that if he is feeling better, he will certainly come down later for dinner.”

  Nicholas nodded politely.

  “I see you have been enjoying dancing with the young ladies. You dance so well and are a favorite, as I have often observed.”

  Nicholas thanked her and managed to extricate himself rather quickly. Was Edgerton somewhere harassing Miss Grey? He went upstairs and knocked on Edgerton’s door. There was no answer. Was he with Henrietta? But he didn’t dare knock on her door.

  He wanted to make sure Miss Grey was safe. He walked up another flight of stairs to her floor. All was quiet. Her door was shut. It would be improper to knock. She might think him no better than Edgerton. So he went back down to rejoin the dance.

  After dancing twice more, Nicholas stood against the wall, thinking about Miss Grey. If only she had come to the ball. But he would see her in the morning. Surely he could wait.

  “You look preoccupied.” Sir John Lemmick, an old friend of Nicholas’s father, came to stand beside him, holding a glass of brandy. “I’m used to seeing you dancing.”

  “Only taking a rest. You should ask Lady Lemmick for a dance. I see her standing all alone over there.”

  “Oh, I—”

  “Father, please come and help me.” Sir Lemmick’s daughter rushed toward them, taking great gulps of air.

  “What is it, Maria? Is the house on fire?”

  “No.” She swallowed hard. “I went up to see if I could help Henrietta. She went upstairs with a headache. But I can’t get her to answer the door, and it’s locked. Please come and help me get it open.” She had turned her pleading look on Nicholas as well.

  “Shall we have the butler open her door?”

  Sir Lemmick and his daughter followed Nicholas as he made his way through the crowd. He found the butler in the dining room, instructing the footmen. They explained the situation, and the butler led their procession up to Henrietta’s room. Only now more people had joined them. This could easily turn into an ugly scandal, depending on what they found in Mrs. Tromburg’s room.

  Nicholas hung back, wishing he hadn’t come with them. Before they reached her door, Sir Lemmick turned around and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, I assure you, my daughter and I will take care of Mrs. Tromburg, whatever her needs may be. I pray you, go back to the ball and enjoy yourselves. We shall all be down soon.”

  The people slowly dispersed and went back down the stairs, and Nicholas was happy to disperse with them, just as the butler found the right key and started to open the door.

  “She isn’t here,” he heard Miss Lemmick say.

  “Langdon, where are you?” Sir Lemmick was squinting down the stairs, looking for him.

  Nicholas stifled a groan. He wouldn’t escape so easily. “I am here.”

  “Come, man. Help us look for her.”

  Nicholas came back up the stairs and reluctantly stepped inside the room as Sir Lemmick and his daughter looked bewildered. He waited as they searched everywhere, even in her wardrobe.

  “She simply isn’t here,” Miss Lemmick said, her eyes wide. “What shall we do? Where could she be?”

  “Darling,” Sir Lemmick said, “Mrs. Tromburg is a grown woman. She . . . she can be responsible for herself. She does not need us following her around.”

  “But Father! She could be sick, unable to walk. Perhaps she wandered into the garden and could not make it back to the house.”

  Sir Lemmick and Nicholas exchanged glances.

  “If she were sick,” Nicholas said, “she would be in her room. Therefore, she does not wish to be found.”

  “Are you so suspicious? Father?”

  Indecision and dread were all over Sir Lemmick’s face. “Darling, please. Listen to reason. Mr. Langdon is right.”

  “Father, Mrs. Tromburg is my particular friend. You must look for her. You must help her.”

  “Very well. Mr. Langdon and I will search the garden and the stable and ask the servants if they’ve seen her. Meanwhile, go back to the dance, my dear, or go to your room, but please don’t say anything to anyone. And we shall inform you as soon as we find her.”

  Miss Lemmick nodded, her mouth slightly open, her expression forlorn as she headed down the hall.

  Sir Lemmick gave Nicholas an apologetic look. “Forgive me, Langdon. She strong-armed me. When you have a daughter, you’ll understand.”

  Nicholas tried to put on his good-natured face and nodded. He and Sir Lemmick hurried down the back stairs and searched outside. It was dark, and they called out, “Anyone here? Hallooo! Anyone?”

  Soon Sir Lemmick said, “Let’s try the stable yard and ask the groomsmen.”

  He and Nicholas made their way to the stable area, which was crowded with extra horses and carriages, but the extra drivers and stable boys and groomsmen were nowhere to be seen. Finally, they located a few drivers standing outside the kitchen door just as Smith, Nicholas’s valet, came toward them.

  “Smith, have you seen Mrs. Tromburg?”

  “Sir,” he said quietly to Nicholas, and Sir Lemmick leaned in to listen, “one of the groomsmen saw Mrs. Tromburg get in Mr. Edgerton’s carriage. A few minutes later, Mr. Edgerton left the house and got in the carriage with her and drove away. That was about an hour ago.”

  Nicholas wanted to ignore the information, to go back inside and forget it.

  “Perhaps
he was mistaken. Perhaps it wasn’t Mrs. Tromburg,” Sir Lemmick offered.

  “Sir, a servant also saw Mrs. Tromburg leave from the back door a few minutes before Mr. Edgerton.”

  He wanted to shake Henrietta. How could she be so indiscreet, so stupid? Her reputation would be forever wrecked.

  “Should we go after them and try to save Mrs. Tromburg’s reputation? For my daughter’s sake?” Sir Lemmick’s expression was pained.

  “Mrs. Tromburg is a grown woman, a widow, and she knows her own mind. I refuse to chase after her. If she wants to destroy her reputation, that’s her decision.”

  “Just so. Quite right.” Sir Lemmick shook his head and stared at the ground for a moment. “We shan’t breathe a word. Only, what shall I say to my daughter? This is a fine, embarrassing way . . .” Sir Lemmick’s words ended in an unintelligible mumble.

  “Tell her the truth.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Tell her the truth: that Mrs. Tromburg sneaked away with Mr. Edgerton. Let it be a lesson to your daughter in how not to behave.” Nicholas stalked toward the house, the cool night air fanning his face. He went inside, thoroughly disgusted with Henrietta. She was a fool to ruin her reputation with Edgerton.

  Nicholas rejoined the party as if nothing had happened, but forcing himself to be cheerful seemed impossible . . . until he thought of Julia, waiting for him in the garden in the morning.

  He went through the motions of dancing with girls who smiled and prattled, went through the eating of dinner and the conversing with dinner partners, but as soon as he was able, he left the party. He found Smith talking with another valet, and they both trudged up to his room, which, with only one candle between them, was quite dark.

  “Shall I light more candles for you, sir?”

  “No, thank you, Smith. I only want to find my bed. But I must be up before eight in the morning.” He yawned as Smith helped him off with his boots. “If I miss my nine o’clock meeting, I shall never forgive myself.”