by Pearl Wolf
The heir’s gaiety infected them all throughout dinner, and as the end neared, Sebastian rose, his glass in hand. “You may not know it, but I have no family of my own. Therefore, I count myself most fortunate this evening, for not only have I won my future bride’s consent, I also have gained the very best of in-laws. A mother, a father, four charming sisters and a brother. I am the luckiest of men.”
When the women retired to the drawing room, Helena took Olivia aside. “Jane was right, you know. Your gown is shockingly wrinkled.”
Without missing a beat, Olivia said, “Spy practice, if you must know. We were wrestling.” The sisters burst out laughing, inspiring Georgiana to demand that they share the jest with her.
“I heard,” said Jane in triumph. “Livy said her gown got wrinkled because she and Sebastian were doing spy practice. They were wrestling on the floor.”
Her innocent words were met with scandalized silence, but only for a moment. The women’s laughter ushered the men of the family into the drawing room. Her Grace could not be prevailed upon to divulge the source of their humor.
“Play for us, Mary,” said the duchess, changing the subject. To Sebastian she added, “Mary is accomplished on the pianoforte. I hope you like music?”
“I do indeed, Your Grace.” He sat next to Olivia on the settee and took her hand in his, in awe of the odd feeling of completion in his heart.
In the knowledge that his life would be made whole with Olivia at his side, he wondered at the miracle of love. He never knew such joy existed. Was he only half a person until this day?
Chapter Twenty
Wilson Academy—Friday, The Sixth of September
Sebastian met with his instructors on the Friday before the final weeks of training. This was the academy’s first graduating class and there were no hard and fast rules.
The spymaster presided at the head of the large rectangular table in the meeting room. Hugh Denville, calisthenics instructor, was on his right, Andre Fourier, fencing master, sat next to him, boxing master Evelyn Hawes next, followed by Sensei Yukio Nori, martial arts expert. Mrs. Hunnicut sat opposite Sebastian at the other end of the table. Next to her sat Tom Deff, stable master, Ned Mason, swimming instructor, and Harry Green, archery and rifle instructor. Aaron Foster, codes and ciphers wizard, sat next on Sebastian’s immediate left. In all, nine men and one woman had assembled to decide the fate of the first six trainees.
“We’ll take John Carter first. How say you?” Sebastian nodded to Denville to begin.
“Pass. He’ll make the home office a good spy, sir. An arrogant beginning, to be sure, but his boxing match with Riggs set him straight, I believe.”
“Good form as a fencer, sir. Pass,” said Fourier.
“Carter deserved the whipping Riggs gave him in the boxing ring, but he had the good grace to apologize. I’d have to give him a pass,” said Hawes.
Sensei Nori had not yet learned to master his “R”s, nor was he ever likely to learn to use the letter “L” in the English tongue. What was odd was the fact that, to his ear alone, he spoke intelligible English. “Cahta mastah mashiah ahts,” he said. “Pahss.”
“If Carter were assigned a domestic spying post, he’d be haughty enough to pass himself off as an excellent butler in a large estate,” said Mrs. Hunnicut dryly. This brought a chuckle to the table. “Pass.”
“He’s a bruising rider, spymaster. Pass,” said Tom Deff.
“Strong swimmer, as well. Pass,” added Ned Mason.
“Pass. An excellent eye for archery and rifle,” said Harry Green.
“Pass. Carter did well on my codes and ciphers examination,” added Aaron Foster.
“Carter, then, is our first successful graduate,” Sebastian said. “Who’s next?”
“Olivia Fairchild,” said Denville, consulting his list.
Sebastian steeled himself, but showed no sign of anxiety for the success of the woman he loved. “How say you, Denville?”
“Fairchild reached fifty push-ups this morning, sir. Pass.”
To Sebastian’s surprise, the others applauded her achievement.
“My star pupil, sir. Pass,” said Fourier beaming.
“In spite of the fact that she nearly killed me?” Sebastian asked, a playful smile on his lips.
“Your own fault, mon ami. Have you not forgiven her?”
“Long since. You are correct, Fourier, my own fault. And I have most certainly forgiven her.” In fact, I mean to marry her.
“Pass. Excellent swimmer.” Ned Mason blushed, the memory of her first swim class reddening his face from his forehead to his neckline.
The glowing reports and a “pass” on Olivia continued until Sebastian reached Mrs. Hunnicut.
“Fail,” she said.
The word stunned the room into silence.
“Explain yourself, ma’am.”
“Of course, sir. Let me first assure you all that I am most fond of Fairchild and I mean her no malice. But she has a serious flaw, one which I fear could cost Fairchild her life in a clandestine operation. I’ve seen this trait in her more than once, you see. She is unable to follow directions. Further, she manages to subvert them to suit herself. It may be subtle at times, to be sure, but it is there nevertheless.”
“I see your point, ma’am, and I would have to agree,” said Denville. “I recall to mind that, when she thought the spymaster was dead, she ran away.”
“She disobeyed when she stole off to attend her sister’s betrothal,” offered Tom Deff.
“My heart stopped when she joined the lads for a swim session and stripped bare,” said Ned Mason. No one dared laugh at this, yet a few lips twitched.
Foster looked thoughtful. “It would be a pity to fail the first woman spy in our academy. Especially since she is such an outstanding trainee. There must be some test we can devise for her. An additional task, perhaps. I’d hate to have to turn her out altogether, for she has a fine mind. It would be a great loss, in my view. She’s received many other glowing reports this morning. If she passes a final test, I would be happy to recommend she be assigned to the codes and ciphers department in the home office. There she would be safely out of harm’s way,” pleaded Foster, a rare hint of passion in his voice.
Sebastian looked down at his papers for a moment. When he looked up, his eyes went directly to Mrs. Hunnicut. “If we were to agree to Foster’s suggestion for an additional task to prove herself, ma’am, what would you suggest?”
The silence in the room held for what seemed like ages, but in fact was only a few moments.
After giving it some thought, Mrs. Hunnicut said, “Fairchild detests scrubbing the kitchen galley on her hands and knees. An odious task for anyone, I must own. We could request it of her once again and if she refuses, she fails, but if she agrees, she passes.”
A murmur of approval swept round the table at this.
“Fine idea, ma’am.”
“It’s for her own good.”
“It isn’t personal, after all.”
“It may well toughen her.”
“Put it to a vote.”
“All those in favor?” Sebastian asked, trying to keep his knees from giving way, for he knew she would blame him and he dreaded it. Every hand went up, which made it unnecessary to ask if any were opposed.
The official letters of decision were delivered to the trainees at breakfast the next morning. There were whoops of joy from those who passed. Carter, Perkins, Robert Reed and his brother William had passed without condition, but Rufus was ordered to restudy the codes and ciphers manual and take the test again in the morning. And Fairchild was ordered to report to the scullery after breakfast.
Jenny helped her into the scullery maid’s costume and handed her the scrub brush and the pail. “I’ve found a pair o’ gloves, miss. ’Twill keep your hands from gittin’ all rough and raw like they did the last time.”
“Thank you, Jenny,” Olivia said. “You’re a dear. Now leave me to my task.” She took the pail out to
the pump and filled it. Back in the kitchen, she hung it on its hook in the fireplace and waited for it to heat up. When the water was warm enough to dissolve the harsh soap made with lye, but not too hot to burn her hands, she carried the heavy pail to the back stairway, got on her knees and began to scrub the black and white tiles.
After each small section, she wiped the suds with her rinsing cloth, rose to wring it out and fell to her knees to begin another part, careful to scrub it spotless. The water had no chance to evaporate, for she added tears of humiliation.
The hallway that led to the kitchen galley took her the better part of two hours, she was that careful in her work. Her back aching, she was ready to begin scrubbing the kitchen galley. She rose to change the water at the well.
She was not surprised to see the spymaster waiting at the pump for her. Her tongue was coated with acid when she addressed him. “Have you come here to witness my humiliation or to gloat? Which is it, sir?”
“This was not my doing, my dearest love.”
She put her hands on her hips and growled like a rabid dog. “Oh no? Too bad, sir. I was about to thank you for arranging such a delightful task as a token of your affection for me. Well, then. Here’s a present for you, my dearest love! “She emptied the pail of blackened water onto him, soaking his buckskins as well as his boots.
He jumped back, but not in time. “Take care, or…”
“Or I shan’t complete your spy program and graduate with my class?” she asked. “Tsk, tsk. And I purchased a brand new gown for the occasion. Too bad.” She put the pail under the pump and put her hand on the handle.
“Allow me,” Sebastian said, his eyes pleading for forgiveness.
“Oh no, sir. I shan’t allow you to deprive me of my favorite spy task. Not on your life! I take pride in my work, but of course, you may not have noticed.”
“I didn’t order this task for you. You must believe me when I tell you it was beyond my control, Olivia.”
“It is always beyond your control, isn’t it? I fully understand your dilemma, sir. Why should the spymaster take the blame when he can foist it onto his subordinates? I’m sure it pleases you to know that when my father discovers that you have failed me, he will be most gratified.” She tried to push past him, but he held the kitchen door for her and followed her inside.
She struggled to lift the pail to its hook in the fireplace, shoving him aside with her hip when he attempted to take it from her. “I don’t need your help, sir. Not at all. Never again, in fact.” She fought back the tears that threatened to betray her.
“You think I’ve failed you once again, I see. But it isn’t so. I cannot tell you how sorry…”
“Then don’t even try. You’re in my way, sir. Be so kind as to leave so I can accomplish this task. Or must you persist in staying to gloat?”
“No, my love. You will graduate with your class when you complete this final task. It isn’t personal, you know.”
“Oh, isn’t it? I can’t recall any of my colleagues being asked to scrub floors! Oh well, perhaps I am mistaken. Women do a much better job at floor scrubbing, don’t they?”
“I can’t bear to see you so unhappy, my darling. After you graduate and we marry, you’ll forget all about this.” He waited for a response, but when she refused to answer him, he turned to the kitchen door to let himself out into the yard.
“Meooow!” cried her kitten when Sebastian stepped on his tail.
Olivia dropped her scrub brush and rushed to pick up the injured animal. “It isn’t enough to humiliate me, is it? You had to add insult to injury and step on Sebastian, too!”
“Sebastian?” His lips quirked, but before he could protest again, Olivia tucked the mewling kitten in her blouse, sat back on her knees, picked up the filthy brush from the floor and flung it at him with all her might, hitting him squarely in the chest.
“I beg your pardon. Do forgive me, sir. Brush must have been too sudsy. Slipped right out of my hands.”
Chapter Twenty-One
London—Tuesday, The Seventeenth of September
Fairchild House was open for the season once again. The family returned from Brighton earlier than was their custom, for the purpose of witnessing Olivia’s graduation from the academy.
While the duchess busied herself making plans for a betrothal ball for Olivia and Sebastian, the duke spent his time closeted with his man of business. The younger girls continued their lessons in the schoolroom with Mrs. Trumball. Georgiana studied French, a language she was adept at, Mary practiced the pianoforte, and Jane, who had shown no aptitude in any of her studies, managed to get into everyone else’s hair.
Wilson Academy—The betrothal notice had already appeared in all the London papers, much to Olivia’s chagrin, for she was determined to cry off. But her parents did not know that yet, for she hadn’t found the time to tell them. She decided she would do so after graduation.
She was a study in misery, but she kept it to herself. Sebastian was not the man for her. That was clear when, in spite of all his promises, he broke another and had her scrub floors, betraying her for the last time, she decided. It galled her, too, that he found it convenient to blame others for his action time and again. What kind of man can call himself honorable if he can’t—or won’t—take the blame for his actions, official or not?
Was there a man who would go to the ends of the earth for her as she would for him? If she couldn’t have such a paragon for a husband, she would have no one at all. The thought depressed her, for her arms still ached to hold Sebastian. How is it, she wondered, that she could love him in spite of his lack of spine? She felt so bruised. Would the pain ever go away? Or would she always suffer thus? Not knowing the answer to that question tortured her.
As if she were sleepwalking, Olivia fulfilled her final duties during this last week at Wilson Academy mechanically. She followed orders to the letter, not daring to question any one of them. She responded with civility when spoken to, but offered only the briefest of answers. She laughed at the antics of her fellow trainees, yet her passion was no longer engaged, neither for spying nor for camaraderie and certainly not for love.
“You asked to see me, sir?” she asked when Sebastian sent for her.
He looked drawn, as if he hadn’t slept well. “Sit down, Olivia.”
“I would prefer it if you would address me as Fair child, just as you do the other trainees, sir.” She sat on the edge of the chair opposite his desk, her hands folded in her lap, her face devoid of expression.
“I’m not ready to give up on our love so easily. Why won’t you listen to reason?”
“We have a difference of opinion, sir. What you call reason, I call betrayal. I poured my heart out to you when you offered for me. Defend me, I pleaded. Stand up for me. Take my side. It’s clear that you are incapable of doing any of these things, sir, which clearly indicates we are not suited. Why belabor the point?”
“Why? Because I love you, you little fool!” He pounded his desk. “Be reasonable, Livy. I cannot control the world for you, even though I wish it were so! I didn’t suggest the additional task. It came from one of the other instructors. Face facts, my love. You don’t take orders well. At our staff meeting, this point was brought up. Why, you may well ask, is it so crucial to obey orders without question? Because when a spy disregards orders, she not only puts her life in danger, but very likely the lives of others. I had no choice but to agree, especially when the vote was unanimous.”
“Unanimous? No one defended me, then? Not even you?”
Sebastian searched her eyes, his face set in stone. “Can you not see that the fault lies within you? The odious task you were assigned was not meant to humiliate you. It was designed to teach you the importance of obeying orders. Did you learn nothing from the assignment, then? Be careful how you answer, Fairchild. Your career hangs in the balance.”
“You would sack me, even at this late date? Yes. I suppose you would. It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”
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br /> “Don’t taunt me, my love. It won’t work. I don’t propose to suffer having your death on my hands when the home office assigns you to a dangerous mission and you sabotage the order to suit your whim. If you persist in thinking this is betrayal on my part, then so be it. I’d rather have you remain alive and furious with me, than die because you’re so damned contrary.”
Olivia lowered her eyes and examined her hands for what seemed like an eternity to Sebastian.
“Well, Fairchild? Can you learn to obey orders without question? It’s up to you whether you go or you stay to graduate.”
She looked up at him, her eyes blurred with tears. “I want to learn to obey orders, sir. Teach me how.”
“Right, then. We begin at once. Are you ready?”
“Yes, sir,” she said in a bleak tone, sounding as if she were on her way to the gallows.
He broke into a wide grin and said, “Then put your anger aside and come into my arms. Kiss me you foolish darling.”
London—At dusk, Chris and Helena sat hand in hand in his garden. Few words were needed to describe their anguish, for he was to leave on special assignment in the morning.
“Can you not reveal where you’ve been posted, my darling?”
“You know I can’t, Helena, but I promise to write often. I’ll send it in the diplomatic pouch along with my dispatches to the home office. The messenger will take your letters to me and forward them in the same way.”
She took a deep breath and said, “It’s a dangerous assignment, isn’t it?”
Chris took her in his arms and kissed her. “Need you ask? You are to become the wife of a spy and as such, you must learn to bear up.”
Her eyes clouded. “I cannot ‘bear up’ as you so blithely put it, if it means I’m going to lose you.”