As he crept through the shadows, Stephen thought about the lessons the past week had taught him. He had spent more time with Prudence than he had ever spent with any woman, both in bed and out of it. They had shared a lot about their backgrounds, and their likes and dislikes, and had formed a wonderful friendship that had only intensified the raging passion that burned between them.
He had spent many lazy days in front of the fire while the ladies read, or Robbie learned his numbers. With the threat of Levant’s return hanging over them, he had wasted no time in making the most of the free time he had been blessed with, and had taken long walks on the beach, and spent many hours pottering about in the garden with Prudence. It had been a fun-filled time when both he, and his colleagues, had gotten to know the family very well.
He knew that Harry and Marcus had grown particularly fond of the young ladies too and, as a result of the last several days, all three of them had a particular determination to do whatever they could to ensure that the Freestone family could remain at Cragdale, without threat from their uncle, Levant or any of his associates; French or otherwise.
They had all eaten far more than was wise, and had laughed, played, joked, teased and generally enjoyed the atmosphere of the homely manor house, to the point that Harry had declared he may never want to leave if he stayed there much longer. For all of them, their time at Cragdale Manor had been by far the most unusual, and relaxed operation they had ever taken part in.
Were they being lulled into a false sense of security? Stephen wasn’t sure, and he couldn’t afford to lose sight of the fact that they were investigating a ruthless gang of French smugglers, who were prepared to do whatever it took to be able to enter and leave the country relatively undetected, whenever they chose.
So far, they had established a network of people, both English and French, who provided them with documentation, accommodation, and false identities. Their ruthlessness meant that everyone within the Star Elite had been made to work that bit harder to ensure that the foreigners, and their accomplices, were found, identified and brought to justice as quickly as possible. It hadn’t been particularly difficult once they had found the first person, but the sheer size of the operation the French had established had caused significant problems. Each time one Frenchman died, or was put behind bars, it seemed that three more crawled out of the woodwork.
However, Lady Luck had recently shone down on them and, thanks to Archie and Pie’s determination, one of the most ruthless French spies of them all, Beaulieu, had been brought to justice. Since then, a variety of people had been found, captured and sent to jail, if not killed and the threat to England’s borders had been reduced to no more than a handful of French spies. Stephen had been tasked with finding another of the outstanding foreigners, Rousseau. Without an adequate description as to what the man actually looked like, his job had been near impossible.
If it hadn’t been for the events that had unfolded at Jamie and Pie’s weddings, he would never have found the lead that had taken him to Dinnington Hall, and straight to Prudence’s door.
He still wasn’t convinced, however, that Levant was French, or had anything to do with the spy he was hunting. Stephen had investigated the man’s rather innocuous background and uncovered a firm link that went back to the man’s birth in a rather nondescript little village on the outskirts of Northampton. His real name had been easy to identify through a very thorough search of the man’s lodgings. At that point, Stephen would have walked away and declared the lead a red-herring, if Levant hadn’t started to splash his cash around in London. The man’s rather frugal lodgings had been at odds with the grand palatial mansions, and huge manor houses that the man had randomly purchased across the country.
Stephen had followed the trail all the way to Dinnington, and had taken great pains to adopt a disguise and ensure that he was put onto the small team of thugs who worked for Levant. Using his contacts within the Star Elite, he had been able to make sure that he didn’t take the lives of innocent people who had property that Levant wanted. However, the rest of the work he had been asked to carry out; issuing sinisterly threats and menacing helpless individuals, had left a bitter taste in his mouth that still felt uncomfortable. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he was there to bring down the man who ordered such malicious crimes, he would have quit and gone back to London, and readily handed over the investigation to someone else.
Given that Hugo and his men within the Star Elite had already removed the man who made the false identity documents, the main financier, and the General of the guard of assassins. As a result, most of the houses had been compromised and had stopped being used by the French. It appeared that they weren’t prepared to give up yet though and, with finances from another source readily available, had begun to repeat the process of buying houses to move their spies into while they adopted their new identities and received new papers and money.
The trail Stephen had followed had led an abstract path that went from Mayfair in London, to Dinnington. The huge house would be more than enough to accommodate several spies who were clearly about to be shipped ashore. The last thing he had expected was for Prudence and her sisters to be Levant’s target but, it was obvious that they lived in the one house that had a rather large, and quite isolated, beach that was perfect for the French spies’ to use to get in and out of the country relatively undetected. It was the last ‘jewel’ in their crown of subterfuge.
Stephen shivered as a particularly cold breeze snuck up his back. If it wasn’t for the desperate need to protect Prudence, and Cragdale, he would have stayed in bed with her. Instead, he was outside Dinnington, watching Marcus break into the house.
Although he had searched the room several times since his arrival a few weeks ago, Stephen was fairly determined that there was a safe or some hiding place within the room that Levant used for his paperwork. If it wasn’t in the library, it was in the study, the sitting room or somewhere else rather innocuous. Dinnington was a huge eighteen bedroom palatial home that lay sprawled in the centre of at least a hundred acres of park land. It was going to be no mean feat to ensure that every square inch of the house was searched thoroughly, but they had a few days to get the information they needed. If it wasn’t in the house, they had to consider that Levant worked for someone who kept the paperwork somewhere else. They just had to find out who it was, and where they called home.
The study was cold and empty, and furnished even more sparsely than Cragdale. At least the furniture there gave the house a homely, well-loved feel. Dinnington felt cold and austere, and most definitely uninhabited. All of the surfaces were empty; there were no knick-knacks, or small personal keepsakes that turned a house into a home. Although he knew it was going to be a futile effort, he turned to the desk that sat against the far wall and began to search for anything, including false drawers, or any other secrets the desk might hold.
They searched for hours. Floor boards were pulled out, walls patted and furniture inspected closely until all three of them were dirty, tired and annoyed. There was simply nothing to suggest that anyone lived in the house at all, and certainly no paper trail that would give them any clue as to how much Levant actually did own.
“At least we know now the paperwork must be kept somewhere else. You said he had a man of business?” Marcus sighed and tried to smother a sneeze.
“Charles Taylor is a rather quiet and staid man. He hardly ever speaks but, when he does, it is in a near whisper and almost impossible to overhear. Although I have never seen him in action, I get the distinct impression that he is just about as ruthless as Levant. There is something about the way he watches everything that makes me wonder just how much he is in control of what Levant does.”
“Could he be French?”
Stephen sighed and shook his head. “I doubt it. The man looks like he walked straight out of Mayfair.”
“So it has either got to be Levant, Taylor, or some unnamed man who is giving both of them orders,” Harry growled. �
��Do you have any information on Taylor yet?”
“I have been too busy following Levant here. Taylor only recently showed his face. On arrival at Dinnington, he suddenly appeared out of nowhere and has been stuck to Levant like a barnacle ever since. They had nightly conversations in here but, given the fact that the desk is slap bang in the middle of the room, it has been damned near impossible to hear what they have been saying,” Stephen replied dourly. “I have managed to gather the evidence I have by more luck than judgement really, but I am absolutely convinced now that Levant is working for the spies in some way.”
“But why choose Levant to work for them?”
“He is greedy and stupid,” Stephen replied, only half-joking. Although the man was greedy and tried to pretend to be stupid, there was a ruthless edge to him that made him the perfect candidate to be a front for the French operation. Stephen couldn’t help but wonder whether Levant would go the same way as Simpson once his job had been done, and the French had established a clear route in and out of the country. Somehow, he couldn’t see the man retiring to Dinnington to wait out his old age.
“He has no idea what he has gotten himself involved in,” Harry sighed. He glanced sideways at the empty grate in the fireplace, and wondered. With a frown, he peered up into the chimney before he glanced back at the others. “Do you have a candle?”
“We do, but you cannot light it in here. It will be visible from outside. The patrols, such as they are, are dozy, but even they cannot fail to see a light in an unlit, and supposedly uninhabited, house.”
“Are there guards on patrol then?” Marcus asked. His brows shot skyward. He had thought that the house had been abandoned, and that opinion had been reinforced by the fact that he had seen neither hide nor hare of anyone other than his colleagues, in either the house or the grounds.
“To be honest with you, they are paid peanuts, so I don’t think that they too bothered about carrying out their job to the letter. If the boss isn’t around, why bother?”
“I need a light,” Harry sighed. There was nothing in the study he could use though, so he hurried out into the hallway and searched each room until he found a candle.
Half an hour later, with the candle finally lit, Harry hurried back to the chimney. Rather than light the fire, he pushed his head and shoulders into the chimney breast and stood up to study the brickwork around him. He was covered in soot within seconds, but that was of little consequence. A thrill of anticipation swept through him when he spotted what he wanted to see.
There, half way along the back of the mantle, were several loose bricks.
“Here, hold this up like that,” he ordered and handed the candle to an unnamed hand that appeared beneath him. Within minutes, he had removed the bricks along with several pieces of paper which were secreted deep within the small compartment he found. Once he had carefully put the bricks back, he climbed back out and stood on the hearth to give himself a shake. Clouds of soot billowed everywhere and he grinned when Stephen sneezed.
“How did you think to look there?” Marcus demanded with a disgusted snort. He had spent hours poring through old, dusty furniture for nothing.
“Genius, my dear man, pure genius.”
“Come on, let us get out of here.”
Nobody objected to Stephen’s suggestion and, once the candle had been extinguished, they made their way out of the house. They completed a circuit of the house, unchallenged, before they returned Cragdale Manor. Once they were certain that nobody lurked in the bushes, the men quietly let themselves in through the back window and stood just inside the room while their eyes adjusted to the darkness.
To Stephen, the place even felt like home now. The scent of meat and vegetables they had all eaten for dinner still hung in the air, along with the scent of burnt wood. However, it was the warmth and general feel of the place that was in stark contrast to the cold and inhospitable Dinnington. He left Harry to hide the papers and quietly made his way to bed.
The following morning the house was abuzz with excitement. The ladies were dressed in their finest and rushed around gathering bonnets, gloves, shawls, and the items they had made to sell at market. Rufus had established a weekly trip in his borrowed carriage, and ensured the each journey into town was filled with fun and laughter. The ladies loved it.
Prudence chose to remain at Cragdale again, ostensibly to look after mother. It felt slightly wanton to plot and plan the day so that she could be alone, in bed, with the man she had only known a few weeks, but she couldn’t bring herself to think too closely about it. It was a good thing they lived so far away from the village because her behaviour was scandalous to say the very least, but she couldn’t bring herself to care very much. In a world where she had shouldered more than her share of the burden of the family, it was wonderful to enjoy some time alone with someone as loving and attentive as Stephen.
However, it seemed that today her plans were set to be thwarted by none other than Stephen himself. As soon as the ladies had disappeared from view, he turned to Prudence with a look of regret in his eye.
“I need to meet with Harry and Marcus about something that happened last night.” He held her hand reassuringly and gave her fingers a squeeze when she opened her mouth to speak. “It is nothing to worry about. We made progress, that’s all, and found some paperwork that we need to take a look through before Levant returns.”
Somewhat deflated, Prudence nodded and followed him back into the house once the carriage containing the ladies disappeared out of the end of the driveway. She tried not to let her disappointment show and gave him an overly bright smile as she walked into the house. He was only doing the job he had been sent to Cragdale to do, and was working to protect the family, so she could hardly object to his need to discuss matters with his colleagues.
“I will bring some tea things through in a moment,” was all she said before she disappeared into the kitchen.
Stephen closed the door to the library behind him and took a seat beside Marcus. Together with Harry, they began to inspect the large sheaf of papers which, in the daylight, were considerably thicker than they had originally thought.
“Good Lord, these are all deeds to properties.”
Harry sighed, and shuffled through several of the papers. He handed some to Stephen and the rest to Marcus while keeping approximately a third for himself. The papers were all in sections, and all for different properties. Stephen recognised the addresses on the deeds of ownership he held, and knew that they had found the paper-trail they needed to confirm the property purchases.
“Are they all in Ludwig Levant’s name?”
“Them are in Taylor’s name,” Stephen growled. He flicked through each page in turn, his scowl growing darker with each page he looked at.
“Do you think that Taylor is the financier?” Harry dropped his handful of papers back onto the table in disgust.
“He must be,” Stephen growled.
“Why use Levant as a front?” Harry asked.
“To preserve his identity. If anyone is to face trial for the crimes they commit, like Mr Simpson’s murder, it will be Levant, not Charles Taylor who ends up in front of the judge,” Marcus sighed.
“If he lives that long,” Harry replied dourly.
“Charles is evidently more than a man of business. He is the brains behind the entire operation. He goes everywhere that Levant goes and clearly holds the purse strings.”
“Do you have any information on Charles Taylor at all?” Marcus asked hopefully.
Stephen shook his head. “When I first met up with Levant, there was just him and that thug, Will, and two other men from London. Taylor appeared just before the house just outside of Wayton was purchased. Humphrey joined the staff as a local who knew Dinnington once we got here.”
“Where does he hail from?” Harry asked as he folded up his sheaf of papers and dropped them onto the table.
“I have no idea. I think it is from the Wednesbury area, but cannot be sure. He hasn’t bee
n around long and my focus of attention has been on the house purchases and, of course, Dinnington and Cragdale.”
“I think that I need to go and see what I can find out from our man Humphrey about where Taylor joined them, and what he knows about his silent boss,” Mark muttered and glanced at his colleagues. “I take it that you two will be alright without me?”
“Oh, I am sure that we can manage for a day or two,” Harry replied wryly. “I am going to take a look at the beach, and the surrounding area, and see what I can find out in the way of gossip at the village pub. I will see you later,” he gave Stephen with a wink before he followed Marcus out of the door.
Stephen smiled and folded the parchment into one large package. He knew that there was a small secret compartment at the back of the shelves, and he carefully placed the valuable paperwork there before he clicked the shelves back into place. Now that the documents had been studied and secured, he was free to do what he had wanted to do for the next several hours.
Prudence was busy preparing the tea tray and jumped when Stephen slid his arms around her from behind.
“Come on,” he whispered, and placed a tender kiss at the base of her neck. He had just seen Marcus and Harry disappear out of the end of the driveway so, for now, they were all alone.
She turned to study him, and wondered what he was up to when, rather than draw her into his arms for a kiss, he handed her one of her thickest shawls and nodded toward the door.
“I thought it would be nice to make use of this wonderful weather and go for a walk.”
She almost groaned at the thought of yet another walk along the blustery cliff-tops, but tried hard to mask her disappointment as she dutifully donned her shawl and headed out of the door after him.
“We shouldn’t be too long because of mother,” she warned and cast a worried glance at the upstairs windows for emphasis. In reality, she would much rather be up there, tucked away in bed with him. As it was, it seemed that fresh air and another form of exercise were the order of the day instead.
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