by Rebecca King
‘Thank you,’ she murmured politely. ‘You saved my life.’
Ronan hated the cool politeness on her face. This controlled, repressed side to her was dull, lifeless, as if all the joy and sunshine had been sucked out of her and had left a mere husk of the person she should be behind. She smiled but it ventured nowhere near her eyes. There was a droop to her narrow shoulders that warned him the burden Geranium carried was invisible to the outside world, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a heavy problem to bear. It meant that nobody could help her with it if she didn’t discuss it with anyone. Ronan doubted Geranium would discuss it with him because she had overheard his spiteful comments earlier.
‘I apologise,’ he murmured, unsure if she could hear him above the din of the busy market.
Geranium looked at him sadly and pursed her lips in what he suspected was meant to be a smile. She had no idea if he was apologising for having kissed her, his comments earlier, or both, but didn’t ask. That was one question she wasn’t going to humiliate herself by asking. Besides, she doubted he would be honest enough to answer her anyway. Geranium knew she had managed to get more out of Peregrine in ten minutes than she had managed to get out of Ronan in two hours and that hurt her even more.
‘I need to go,’ Geranium whispered.
‘I will escort you,’ Ronan offered.
‘No. No. Your friends need you more than I do. Thank you once again.’ Geranium offered Ronan a dismissive smile before hurrying into the coaching yard.
She met with the worried ticket officer who promptly ushered her aboard a waiting carriage. Thankfully, the pedestrians on the street had blocked the carriage from leaving. The coachman, having witnessed what had just happened, had decided to wait for the milling throng to deal with the startled young woman. Consequently, as soon as Geranium was aboard, the coachman nudged the horses into a steady walk. His carriage left the yard, and market town, at a considerably more sedate pace than it normally would but even so, Geranium didn’t see Ronan, Peregrine, or even Lynchgate, as she returned home, and for that she was grateful.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Geranium was exhausted by the time she reached home. She was hungry, cold, and so numb from everything that had happened she wasn’t at all sure what to think. One thing that did stand out amongst her confusion was that she needed to stay away from Ronan. Just seeing him hurt. His comments had been cruel, despite being honest. She had to face facts. He found her irritating. She was the very last woman a man like him could ever be interested in. She would be a damned idiot to entertain any notion that they might be able to have a future together. Whatever the kiss had been about it was a once in a lifetime moment that wouldn’t be repeated.
‘Well, that is something I can live with because I don’t want to spend my life being hurt by him. At least I know what to expect from life if I live by myself,’ Geranium murmured as she slammed the front door closed and slid the bolt across for good measure.
‘Do you, my dear?’
Geranium screamed at the sound of that horrifyingly familiar voice. She whirled to face the owner, David Lynchgate. Geranium wished that she hadn’t slid the bolt closed with such haste because she would have been able to escape, and there would be nothing David Lynchgate could do about it. Now, she wouldn’t have the time to even slide the bolt back before Lynchgate reached her. She was well and truly stuck.
All because I followed Peregrine’s advice.
Geranium wasn’t at all sure whether she was a damned fool for believing that Peregrine, Ronan, and his friends worked for the Star Elite, or an idiot for believing them when they had claimed they were trustworthy. Their advice and treatment of her thus far had done nothing more than put her life in danger and cause her pain.
‘They work for you, don’t they?’ she asked.
Lynchgate scowled at her. ‘Don’t pretend that you don’t know exactly who they are.’
‘They refuse to tell me anything,’ Geranium replied. ‘They have a horrible tendency to avoid answering questions. They find that irritating about me, did you know that? I ask too many questions apparently, and they don’t like it because they don’t answer questions.’
‘Shut up,’ Lynchgate growled.
‘What do you want with me?’
‘What did they ask you?’ Lynchgate demanded.
‘Nothing. I have just told you that I asked them questions and they didn’t tell me anything. Do you not listen?’ Geranium asked. She knew she was irritating Lynchgate by asking questions but was pleased about it. ‘Why do you want me dead? I have done nothing to you. It was you who pushed me, wasn’t it? You should know that I have nothing to do with whatever trouble you are in. You know that I was just in town to do some shopping, don’t you? Why were you following me? What do you want with me?’
‘Shut up!’ Lynchgate bellowed.
‘The neighbours will hear you,’ Geranium chided. She busied herself with dropping her basket onto the floor and removing her shawl.
‘What are you doing?’
Geranium threw him a spiteful look. ‘I should think that would be obvious to any damned fool, don’t you? I am taking my shawl off.’
Slowly and deliberately, Geranium put on an elaborate display of placing her shawl on the hook beside the door. She straightened her skirts and then forced herself to look unconcernedly at the intruder in her house.
‘You do know that breaking and entering houses is against the law, don’t you? But then, I also suppose that you know that Mr Wardle has left town and so cannot arrest you for it. There are other magistrates, though, so I suppose the neighbours will have to send for one of them. I mean, we cannot live in a lawless society just because the magistrate has gone away, now can we?’
‘For the love of God woman, will you shut up?’ Lynchgate bellowed.
‘Well, I am just saying, aren’t I?’ Geranium shrugged.
Aware of how much her questions irritated Ronan, and even Lynchgate, Geranium let them flow and litter everything she said. She never realised until now how natural it was for her to fill practically every sentence she uttered with a question. While she suspected she would never change, for once she wasn’t sorry about it. Right now, it was the only thing stopping Lynchgate from forcing her to do something that she didn’t want to do. It was stopping him from giving her orders and making him lose patience with her. Hopefully, once he realised that she was going to prattle on about stuff and nonsense he would eventually realise the futility of trying to get information out of her and just leave. Geranium hoped so in any case because she really couldn’t get the mental image of Judge Sminter’s swinging corpse out of her head.
‘Well? Are you going to step aside so I can make a drink? I don’t know about you, but I am thirsty and haven’t eaten all day. That market was incredibly busy, don’t you think?’ She lifted her basket and brushed by him as she swept toward the kitchen.
Once inside the room, though, she slammed the door behind her and shoved a chair beneath the handle before she raced to the door. Geranium was shaking so badly she couldn’t get her fingers to work the bolt across the door, but she eventually managed to step outside. By the time she reached the terrace, Lynchgate was bursting through the French doors and charged toward her, but that didn’t stop Geranium from screaming at the top of her voice. She screamed and screamed as loudly as she could, even when Lynchgate grabbed her around the waist and tried to haul her into the house. She screamed and kicked at him. When he slammed a hand over her mouth, Geranium bit his fingers. Despite fighting him, Lynchgate dragged her to the kitchen door. Geranium clung desperately to the door jamb when he tried to drag her into the kitchen. She suspected that if she allowed him to drag her inside, she would die like Sminter.
Suddenly, several of the men from the Star Elite charged into the garden. Lynchgate threw her onto the floor and left Geranium in a crumpled heap, gasping for air. She looked up in time to watch one of Ronan’s colleagues race into the house after him. The loud bang of a gun going off in
her hallway made her scuttle closer to the wall, and out of the way of the second man who charged after Lynchgate. With nothing else to do, Geranium curled up into a ball and hugged her knees to her chest while she waited for the men to chase Lynchgate away. She was numb, and so scared she hated to even think anymore. She hurt practically everywhere, and it had nothing to do with the dull ache around her heart that Ronan’s criticism of her had caused. Geranium knew that she was covered from head to toe in bruises because she had been manhandled so much.
‘And I had been so looking forward to having the house to myself,’ she moaned, tipping her head back to glare at the sky overhead.
The sun was still out. The birds still chirped merrily in the trees surrounding the garden, but nothing in Geranium’s world was the same anymore. Geranium doubted that anything would ever be alright again. So much had changed in a very short space of time that she struggled to keep up with everything going on around her. She ached for the simplicity of her old life. Geranium ached for her parents to return and wished fervently now that she had agreed to go with them rather than stupidly, foolishly assuring them that she could cope with living on her own.
‘Are you all right, miss?’ Roger asked, a little shocked when he returned to the house only to find Geranium curled into a tiny ball of human misery beside the back door of her house. She looked terrified.
It was disturbing to see the blankness in her eyes when she looked at him, as if she was a million miles away and not really seeing anything of the world around her.
‘Let’s get you inside, eh? Where are your staff today? Are they due back anytime soon? Is there a friend in the village who can sit with you for a while?’
Geranium shook her head. She was really starting to dislike questions but knew that it really was the only way to find out what she wanted to know, and it was the same for others. There wasn’t anything wrong with anybody asking questions. That was the end of it. It was only the impatient or selfish who objected to them, and only liars who didn’t answer questions with honesty or properly.
Liars like Ronan.
‘It is their day off. They will be here, ready to start work in the morning, I don’t doubt,’ Geranium offered with a smile she truly didn’t feel. She suspected that if the man was as concerned as he looked, she was likely to end up being forced to stay in Mr Quinton’s house with the Star Elite if she wasn’t careful.
That is all I need, to be forced to live under the same roof as Ronan.
The thought of having to endure that was enough to force Geranium to her feet.
‘I am sorry that we have caused a bit of damage,’ Roger murmured, pointing to the new hole in the hallway wall. ‘It looks like Lynchgate smashed the lock on your back door to get in. I will get them both repaired before we leave.’
‘Thank you,’ Geranium whispered.
‘Tell me, what does Lynchgate want with you?’
Geranium huffed a laugh. Once she started, she seriously struggled to stop. She laughed and laughed so much that the men became increasingly alarmed as they gathered in the kitchen.
‘He has taken off on foot but is heading back toward town. Hamish is following him, but I think Peregrine and Ronan will be heading this way and should intercept him,’ the latest arrival announced.
Roger nodded but squatted down in front of Geranium. ‘Please, let me introduce us. My name is Roger Monteys. This here is Joshua Holton, and this here is Mr Luke Horcroft.’
Geranium nodded at them. ‘Geranium Snetterton. Miss Geranium Snetterton.’
‘Might I call you Geranium?’ Roger asked.
Geranium nodded. ‘I think this is neither the time nor the place for formalities, don’t you?’
Roger smiled encouragingly at her. ‘Now, what did Lynchgate ask you?’
Now that she had calmed down, Geranium was able to say: ‘Do you know something? Throughout my life, I have been criticised almost constantly for asking too many questions. The only person who has ever encouraged it is my father. Everyone else has always criticised me and told me that there is something wrong with me because of my constant need for facts. But without facts one can never learn the truth. Until now, I have always believed my need to ask questions to be my rather shameful and most unappealing fault.’ Geranium ignored the shocked looks on the men’s faces, and the dark scowl that appeared on Roger’s. ‘Today, I didn’t stop asking questions of Lynchgate, and it is that and only that which saved my life. I didn’t give him the time to ask me what he wanted to know. I didn’t stop asking him what he thought he was doing, but I didn’t give him the chance to answer. It made him angry and for once I am glad of it. If someone cannot abide me asking questions of them then they have no interest in having a proper, adult, civilised conversation with me and are therefore nobody I wish to spend any time with. Lynchgate had no interest in answering my questions either, nor did I have any interest in answering his, and for that I am glad.’
‘One man’s rubbish is another man’s gold, remember that,’ the man called Joshua announced. ‘Your inquisitive nature is nothing to apologise for. On this occasion it has saved your life. Although it would help us to know what Lynchgate wants with you, it isn’t any bad thing that we don’t know. I assume that you have never had anything to do with David Lynchgate.’
Geranium shook her head.
‘Does your father have any business dealings with him?’
‘No. My father detests the man. Most of the villagers do,’ Geranium replied. ‘I probably should have been more persistent in asking him what he wanted, but Lynchgate isn’t honest. I don’t doubt that as soon as he had what he wanted he would have tried to kill me again.’
Roger’s gaze was sharp when he looked at her. ‘Again? What do you mean ‘again’?’
Geranium told them about what had happened to her in the coaching yard.
‘He will be arrested for trying to murder you as well then,’ Roger announced. He looked at his men. ‘Lynchgate might think that either Wardle or Sminter said something to you before they died, or you know something or have something that either one gave you before they were killed.’
‘Don’t you think it more likely that I was the one to see Mr Wardle alive before he left his house last night?’ Geranium challenged. ‘The man was worried. He was in a rush and was hastily shoving papers into his saddle bag. He didn’t look at me but was shaking and sweating profusely. It was as if he needed to get out of the house before Lynchgate reached him.’
‘But he took his papers.’ It wasn’t a question but Geranium nodded. Roger sighed. ‘I have just been going through those papers but there is nothing on a lot of them. It just doesn’t make sense. Why would he want to take blank paper with him?’
‘Why would Mr Wardle want to take incriminating papers with him anywhere?’ Geranium asked. ‘Who was he taking them to and why? Was someone else helping him? He didn’t take any clothing with him, just his saddlebag. Why would he then carry something that could get him arrested into the night? It was safe in his house. He was the magistrate. He could guard it and shoot anybody who tried to break into his property. It suggests, to me at least, that Mr Wardle was taking the papers to someone, but I doubt it was Lynchgate seeing as Mr Wardle is now dead.’
‘Mother of God,’ Roger whispered. ‘We could do with you on the team.’
Geranium grinned and truly felt a genuine smile break free. ‘I told you it pays to ask questions.’
‘Well, we have found the saddlebag but there is absolutely nothing in the papers that incriminates anybody,’ Roger sighed.
‘Have you checked for watermarks or hidden codes or something like that?’ Geranium pressed.
‘What?’ Roger looked at her in astonishment.
‘I do believe that Wardle worked in the War Office during the war,’ Geranium said.
‘Well, yes, but he wasn’t one of us,’ Roger insisted.
‘No, but coded messages used to be sent during the war that were hidden,’ Geranium said. She lifted her b
rows when Roger stared nonplussed at her. ‘Did you not know? I believe that Wardle was a courier, someone who used to carry papers around for the government. Did you not know that?’
Roger slowly shook his head.
‘Well, if he carried secret documents for King and Country, he would know about hidden codes and the like, or how to hide missives amongst ordinary notes. There was a trick they used in which codes were written in lemon juice or something like it. My father has details of it in one of my uncle’s notebooks. My uncle also used to work for the War Office and made a note of what they did.’ She hurried into her father’s study and found the book she wanted. When she turned around it was to find that all the men had followed her. Geranium swiftly found the page she needed and pointed it out to Roger. ‘Wardle used to carry the important documents about, but I don’t know if he transported secrets like this which would have hidden messages written in lemon juice. If you let it dry what you have written becomes invisible. To read it you have to heat the paper by the fire and hold it up to the light.’
‘There are a lot of papers in that saddle bag. It is going to take a while to heat them all,’ Roger moaned.
Geranium pointed to the segment of the private notebook which detailed how to write the notes and reveal them.
‘Lemons,’ Roger murmured, a little stunned. He looked at Geranium with admiration because he knew she had just given them a valuable breakthrough.
‘These papers would be worthless to Lynchgate if he doesn’t know about the messages being hidden,’ Geranium said.
‘Is there anything else you can tell us about Wardle?’
‘That he is a useless magistrate,’ Geranium told Joshua flatly. ‘He used to be very good, but then became friendly with Lynchgate, and began to treat the locals just as poorly as Lynchgate and Sminter did. Nobody likes any of them very much.’