The Willing Game

by Issy Brooke

  Marianne tapped the pen on the paper and left a smudge. If. If Anna had fled.

  If Anna returned to Claverdon, there was nothing Marianne could do about that.

  If Anna came after Marianne – she would have to be on her guard. She would need to be prepared to shoot her, just lightly, enough to wound her and keep her down while she was arrested.

  And that would be an end of that.

  She drew a line across the cream paper.

  But there was one more untied end. This was the matter of Jack Monahan, and his apparent investigation into her cousin-in-law. He was not working for anyone, unless he really was telling the truth about his employment with the government.

  Would his probing cease with the disappearance of Anna? What did Monahan really know about Anna? Was Monahan interested in the affair and blackmail, or something else?

  Was he really on the side of the government or was he an independent agent ... or a foreign spy?

  Prussia, she wrote. Junkers. Trade.

  She drew a large question mark, and then scribbled it out, angrily.

  She closed the book and sighed. She knew already that she was in for a sleepless night.

  THEY HAD PLANNED FOR everything. The next morning, at breakfast, as Claverdon rustled his papers and sucked his kedgeree down slowly, Phoebe began the first attack.

  “Price, darling, don’t forget that I won’t be dining at home tonight.”

  “Mmph?” He barely looked up.

  “Don’t you remember? Marianne has invited me to that talk about birds.”

  “Birds?”

  “By the Fur and Feather League. Eliza Phillips is lecturing against the importation of exotic plumages. Have you read her pamphlets? She is most convincing.”

  “No, I have not. I thought they were only for women.”

  “It is not women who are shooting these birds, though it is us women who are wearing them.”

  “Well, I am not shooting nor wearing them.” Claverdon flicked to the next page of the large and unwieldy newspaper. “I shan’t be coming.”

  “You can’t, anyway. It is not open to men.”

  “Huh.”

  He seemed completely unconcerned, and that was exactly what they wanted. “So I shall be out all evening, and we will not return until late. Marianne will be with me the whole time. I shall ask Mr Barrington to arrange for someone to meet us at the station when we return. Perhaps Wright will wait for us.”

  “Good, good. You do as you wish, my dear.” He was absorbed in the financial section of the paper, and he was frowning. Phoebe and Marianne fell into silence, their work done for the moment.

  “I CANNOT SETTLE,” PHOEBE complained.

  She was pacing around in the fern-filled glass-walled room on the south side of the house. All the large windows had been opened, but it was still humid and cloying. She prowled among the fronds, peering at the exotic blooms without really seeing them.

  Marianne stood by the open door, looking over the patio. It had a low stone wall and was ranged along with urns that had cascading purple and blue flowers – lobelia, campanula, and periwinkle. Fletcher the gardener might not allow roses into his garden but he had a fine eye for flowers.

  “We will leave soon. We cannot go too early and arouse your husband’s suspicion.”

  “Oh, nonsense! He will not notice a thing. I don’t understand why he is hanging around at home, anyway. He ought to be in London, doing ... whatever it is that he does. Making money. But have you noticed, Marianne, he is at home an awful lot these days?”

  “I think he concentrates better in his quiet study.”

  “Do you think so?” Phoebe turned a corner and came up alongside Marianne. “No, that is not it. He must have been dismissed from his job, and simply cannot find the courage to tell me.”

  “Oh Phoebe, you cannot think that. Your imagination is wild.”

  “Well, what else could it be, then? It is that or ... or ... the unthinkable.”

  “Which is?”

  “You know. Do not make me spell it out. I have spoken with Emilia about this and asked her to look for evidence. I think that Price might be ... he might have fallen out of love with me.”

  Marianne put her arm around Phoebe. “I am sure that he is as devoted to you as he has ever been, and he is simply tied up with difficult business decisions at the moment. If I suspected anything different, dear cuz, I would tell you immediately.”

  Phoebe squeezed her back, and Marianne vowed to confront Claverdon the very next day, and wave a gun in his face if she had to.

  “Come on. Let us go. It will be better if we are active and Simeon will need our help,” Marianne said. “And we mustn’t forget to buy that tambourine on the way.”

  THEY WALKED TO THE station in the pleasant early afternoon, carrying bags containing clothes for the evening, and took the train – first class this time, of course – to London. From there it was a short walk to Simeon’s workshop, but they had to detour to take in a music shop.

  “I’ll wait out here with the bags,” Marianne said. Phoebe dropped her large carpet bag on the cleanest section of pavement that she could see, and Marianne put hers on top. Phoebe disappeared into the busy shop, and Marianne put her back to the wall, looking around, on guard for pickpockets, and she immediately felt uneasy.

  Anna could not possibly try anything out here, in the open, on such a crowded street, she told herself. She was safer here than almost anywhere else, really.

  But it was not the presence of Anna Jones which had raised up the hairs on the back of her neck. The mass of men, in their checks and their tweeds and their plaids, their bright dandy jackets and the ones in their workmen’s browns, and the sober men in black and grey, parted. A dark blue top hat was heading her way.

  “Mr Monahan,” she said, and felt for her handbag swinging from her arm.

  “Miss Starr. I appreciate that we may have parted under uncertain terms...”

  “I was fairly certain that you were ransacking my cousin’s house, so no, it was not uncertain. I certainly do not wish to ever speak to you again.”

  “Oh, come now, don’t be so petulant about it. It was not a ransacking. How you exaggerate! I did not disturb a thing. I was merely investigating, and you cannot be sniffy about that. It’s your job, too. If you spent a little more time investigating what was right under your nose, and less time worrying about dead men, you’d understand.”

  “Who are you really, Jack Monahan?”

  He folded his arms and grinned down at her. “Who do you want me to me, Miss Starr? I’ll be whoever takes your fancy.”

  “Nothing about you takes my fancy and I don’t appreciate these crude attempts at flirting. It makes me feel quite ill. What do you want? No, why am I even asking you that? We have nothing to do or say to one another.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. You wanted to use me to gain access to the house, and nothing more. The rest was a ruse. You used me. You got what you wanted. There is no partnership, nothing, and I for one am glad about that. I do not care that you have taken me in, sir, and hoodwinked me. I only care that it is over, and I should not be so careless again. I have learned my lesson.”

  “You are a hard woman to crack, Miss Starr.”

  “I have no intention of being cracked.” Such an unfortunate phrase sounded dreadfully impolite to her. He was jesting with her, and she did not like it. “What do you want with me now? Why are you still following me? You cannot deny it. There is too much coincidence with your presence here.”

  He let his grin fade, and he nodded. “I was hoping to have a gentle and civil conversation with you, but I can see that it won’t do. Well, then, I have come to give you a warning.”

  She rolled her eyes at him, as dramatically as she could. It was rude and uncouth of her. She did not care; he did not deserve anything more.

  “I cannot think what you are warning me of now, unless it is to avoid footpads and rakes.”

  “Of course y
ou must avoid such people. I do. No, I am come to warn you to keep your father clear of me.”

  “My father?”

  “Yes. Your daft old sod of a father is running around London in a frenzy, digging up my name in every corner that he can, and he has roped in some old friends of his, too, who still seem to think that he means something. They are, apparently, tasked with ‘putting the frighteners’ on me, though how they intend to do that, I do not know – they cannot even find me.”

  Marianne hoped that her shock did not show on her face. She had no idea that her father was doing such a thing. “What my father does is up to him,” she said. “And I would suggest that if you have nothing to hide, then you have nothing to fear.”

  “No one ever believe that old lie. I won’t discuss this with you, Miss Starr. There is nothing to debate. Simply inform your old man that he needs to be careful. He has literally no idea what he is messing with.”

  “I shall let him know. Thank you, and good day.” She could not walk off, but she could turn away. She pointedly presented her shoulder to him, and gazed off across the street, tilting her chin to the sky.

  He grabbed her elbow and bent low to hiss in her ear. “Listen, you idiot. I will do whatever I need to do to protect my reputation. I have some issues to address in my personal employment, I will admit. No doubt your father has dug up all that gossip. But I will not let anyone jeopardise my position and my future positions. Do you know what I am investigating at the moment?”

  “Mr Claverdon?”

  “You pretty fool. Him? I am on the trail of the Junkers. With Bismarck gone, we have a new opportunity to trade more freely in Prussia but the gentry out there aren’t having it, not one bit. They’ll do anything to keep a tight hold on their peasants and their estates.”

  “That has nothing to do with me, nor with Claverdon.” But it was, wasn’t it, she thought. The link has been Price Claverdon, all along.

  “What do you think his company does? They are an import and export business. They have negotiated, on behalf of the Crown, some new deals. Von Caprivi is reducing the tariffs for trade, and while that is splendid news for us here, the old guard over there are having fits about it.”

  “Fits?”

  “And by fits, I mean, some of them are angry enough to be moved to violence.”

  “Junkers,” she said slowly. “Prussia. Oh.” Anna Jones, she thought. And there was that man in the unfamiliar uniform, and the strange language that they had spoken. “Oh,” she said again. “But my cousin-in-law is not a spy.”

  “Of course he isn’t. But he’s got himself tangled up with one.”

  “Anna Jones.”

  “That will not be her real name.”

  “But what would that be to you?” she asked. “You work for no one and don’t give me that nonsense about working for the government for we got no whiff of that at all.”

  “I do.”

  “You do not.”

  He stared at her. She stared back, defiant. He would not take her for a fool. She had had enough.

  Finally, he said, “Well, then. I promise you that when I worked for Lord Hazelstone, I was indeed on the government’s business, indirectly, in hunting out the leaks from Harker and Bow to the more militant Junkers. I had to get into your house. But that went wrong and my methods were clumsy. And Lord Hazelstone is a proud man and we had words, and I did not hold my tongue as I ought to have done, and I was dismissed. I know that he is too proud to apologise and I do not wish it. But if I can continue with my task and bring him the information that he wanted, he is sure to give me my old position back.”

  “That’s it?” she said, incredulous.

  “I have told you the truth, and still you want more?” he snapped, and she could see that he was very irritated.

  “Why not get employment elsewhere?” she said. “Why put yourself through all this?”

  “What else am I to do?”

  He looked like a lost boy. She did not laugh but she wanted to. He had struck her before as an odd mix of confidence and awkwardness, and now she saw all the confidence was an act. He was like a slightly more successful version of Simeon. Were all men just pretending to be confident and in charge, she wondered. What does that bode for us? They may as well allow women into power, if it’s all a façade anyway.

  Then she thought of other men, who were so confident in their own abilities that they couldn’t imagine ever being unsure of something. That was how Monahan wanted to be. Poor man, she thought. He just wants someone to tell him what to do. He’s running along in the same groove like an automaton because yes – as he says – what else is he to do?

  “So you are seeking out Anna Jones,” she said.

  “Yes. I am on her trail, though it seems to have gone recently cold. You brought her to my attention. Do you know anything about where she might be?”

  “Yes, she ... she is probably injured,” Marianne said with an awkward laugh.

  “What? What happened?” There was a note of concern in his voice. She flattered herself that it might be for her.

  “She is somewhat upset with me. She came at me with a gun, but we – ah, I was with my friend – we evaded her and she was injured in the fracas. She fled, and if she has any sense, she will have left London by now. And it is not only yourself who is pursuing her. There are rough men, soldiers, who speak her language, who also seek her out.”

  “They are not rough men at all. Those are the younger sons of the landed gentry in Prussia, who end up as officers, just as they do here.”

  “Like you?”

  “My past is blissfully straightforward, and nothing to do with you nor our current situation. So, the Junkers want her too, do they?”

  “Yes. I chased one of them off. Listen, will you tell me a little more about something else? Will you be honest?”

  He winced briefly. “I shall try. It depends on what it is.”

  She glared at him. “Other people don’t need to concentrate when they are trying to be honest, you know. Anyway my question is not about you. Were Claverdon and Anna engaged in ... criminal conversation?”

  He blurted out a laugh. “Good heavens, those two? Can you really think that? Of course not. He’s a silly fool and his head was turned by that pretty face but it only went as far as giving her business secrets – business secrets that not only have the potential to damage Harker and Bow, but the government too, and that is why I was initially involved. Her Majesty and the Prime Minister are very keen to make the most of potential new trade deals in Prussia. He has put that in jeopardy. She was blackmailing him, of course. But that is all.”

  She lapsed into a thoughtful silence. She was relieved. She wanted to tell herself that she’d known it all along.

  “Has Anna approached Claverdon again, do you know?” he asked, out of the blue.

  She felt an uncomfortable prickling on her skin. The street noise rose and fell, like waves, obscuring and revealing. “I don’t think so. I hope that it’s the last we’ve seen of her. She’s brought too much strife to the household. Poor Phoebe...”

  “Does she know about Anna?”

  “She knows nothing. And I will ensure that it stays that way.”

  Jack sighed. He looked around, and said, “What do you intend to do now?”

  “Apart from intending to avoid you, and also to avoid being shot again by Anna, and get my money from Bartholomew’s solicitor, and rebuild my good name and my business? Oh, I imagine I shall have leisurely afternoons of high tea in the sun, and spend all my evening playing cards and the piano.”

  He grunted, and didn’t even bother to bid her good day. He stepped out into the swirl of the passing crowd and was soon lost to view.

  “Who has approached my husband? Who is Anna? Who has brought strife to the household? Poor Phoebe? Poor Phoebe?”

  Marianne went utterly cold, and then hot. She took a deep breath and turned around to face her cousin.

  Phoebe stood behind her, clutching a brown paper bag, and he
r face was white and pinched. “I don’t care that you were talking to Monahan even after we agreed he was to be avoided. I am not sure that I care that Price is having a clandestine relationship with another woman. I had suspected as much. Did I not say? Did I not ask you about it?” She drew herself up stiffly and seemed to grow another two inches. “But you lied to me! I asked you and you lied to me, Marianne! You denied it – and yet here you are, speaking to that man about it!”

  “Phoebe, not here – let’s not make a scene. I can explain everything, but you won’t like it. It is not quite what you think it is. Mr Claverdon is not unfaithful. Come – let us step into a tea shop, or even better, wait until we get to Simeon’s where I can...”

  Phoebe thrust the wrapped tambourine at Marianne, catching her hard in the belly. “Do you really think I am going to Simeon’s, now, after this? I need to go home! I need to sort this out.”

  “There is nothing to sort out – please, don’t go to your husband until I’ve told you what’s going on. You will make things worse.”

  “The time for you to tell me anything has passed. You have had your chance. And his name is Price. Price! You can say Price, can’t you? Not Mr Claverdon, not your husband. For god’s sake, Marianne, we have lived under the same roof for years! Are you really so bitter and dried-up and spiteful that you can’t even accept him? You have hidden this, to destroy our happiness! I have nothing more to say to you. Nothing.”

  She spun around and half-ran away. People looked at them, without disguising their amusement and curiosity. Marianne stretched up on her tip-toes and called, “Phoebe! Come back!”

  But she did not come back and Marianne had known, before she shouted, that she wouldn’t.

  Twenty-four

  There were four hours before the séance was supposed to begin. She could follow Phoebe, waste time persuading her to carry on with the deception, drag her back to Simeon’s workshop, go over to the rented rooms ... yes, there was time to do all that.