Dangerous Dalliance

by Joan Smith

  I darted downstairs, and found Bunny just rising from the card table, using the excuse of a glass of wine. I poured it for him and said, “I’m going back up. Fairfield just went up to the loft.”

  “Learn anything?” he asked.

  “No, but I’m going to listen at the door.”

  “Depew said not to.”

  “Depew is not God.”

  “Be careful. I’ll check in half an hour if you’re not down.”

  “All right.” I said a few words to Auntie and left.

  I stopped to tap at Fairfield’s door, to make sure he had not returned. His valet replied. “I was just wondering if Lord Fairfield is feeling better,” I said.

  The valet raised his finger to his lips, while adjusting his shoulders to conceal the empty bed. “He’s sleeping, miss. I gave him a few drops of laudanum half an hour ago. The best thing for toothache.”

  “I hope he feels better by morning.”

  The valet smiled and closed the door. He and Fairfield ought to have gotten together on his lordship’s malady. Toothache indeed! Without wasting another moment, I went to the door up to the loft and began a silent, slow ascent. I was grateful for Fairfield’s laxity. He had left the door open an inch. The men sat at the table, drinking Papa’s sherry and smoking his cheroots. They spoke in tones just a notch lower than normal, which carried well on the still night air.

  “She’s got to be working with Depew,” Snoad said. She was, of course, me. Or I, as the case may be. “She’s rifled my room.” How did he know that? I had been careful! “She told him where we were going this afternoon. And she came up here this evening trying to wheedle information out of me.”

  “How?”

  “By the usual method of ladies, John. Her charms.”

  “Ah. You could tell her the truth.”

  Snoad laughed, a nasty laugh. “She wants to know when you’re leaving, incidentally.”

  “When am I?”

  I took note of this. It was Snoad who was in charge. And Snoad had tried to cozen me with his charms. The cozening was not all in one direction.

  “I’m just waiting for word from Caesar. She suspects Caesar is being used, of course. She keeps asking about him. You nearly blew it when you showed your surprise at Caesar’s return.”

  “It was his being in Caesar’s tree that fooled me.”

  “And Heather. A pity Cleo dislikes Hector so much. She didn’t help, pecking at him. I told Cassidy I was taping him down to prevent a mating when Miss Hume came up. He thought it very civil of me.”

  My blood boiled to hear all this. I had been duped, made a fool of for days. Caesar was abroad, bringing in an important message.

  “I’ll send out the last message after Caesar arrives,” Snoad said. “He should be here tonight, then we’ll have to abandon this position.”

  “Where to next?”

  “We’ll receive our orders from headquarters. I’ll be damned glad to get out of here, I can tell you. I mean to ask for something in London. More going on there.”

  London is swarming with spies, I remembered Depew had said.

  “Seems to me there is plenty going on here. That little shoot-out this afternoon was lively. Perhaps I oughtn’t to have winged him.”

  “A pity you didn’t kill him,” Snoad said ruthlessly.

  So the “little accident” had been a pitched battle, using bullets. They must have spotted Depew, and tried to kill him. Such desperate goings-on as this were more than I had bargained for. I retreated back down the stairs before they caught me and put a bullet through me as well.

  I was weak with fear, and went again to my room to recover. I reviewed their conversation. Caesar was on his way with a crucial message. That was why he had been missing, and why some other bird had been used to fool me. I had thought Caesar’s hood unique in our loft, but obviously I was mistaken.

  I could not sit idly by and let Snoad recover that message, and send out some false orders that might imperil our troops. I knew now that he had the code book. He had said point-blank that he would send out a message. I had to be rid of him, at once. The only thing I could think of was to relieve him of his post. This was my house; I paid him. I could order him to leave, and I would do so. I felt it imperative to consult with Depew on this matter first, however.

  I went below, and by eye contact let Bunny know it was crucial that I speak to him. He began yawning and soon said, “I don’t know about you, Mrs. Lovatt, but I am ready for the feather tick.”

  “It is early yet,” she said, glancing at the clock. Piquet was not her real love, however. And Bunny was not her first choice of partner. She soon acceded. I was happy that she did not linger long behind, but went abovestairs to continue her rendezvous with Sir Walter Scott. She was greatly involved with his Waverley novels. She said they had helped her through her brother’s death.

  “What did you learn?” Bunny demanded as soon as we were alone.

  I emptied my budget, and he listened, frowning in concentration. “I was right. The bird was taped to the tree,” he told me, with a wise look.

  “And they know Depew is an agent.”

  “That’d be why Depew is so hell-bent we not use his name, or let them catch a sight of him. He’s not wearing his Horse Guards jacket, but that wouldn’t fool them.”

  “You’d best go to the inn and speak to him.”

  “I’m gone. Don’t tackle Snoad alone. I’ll go up with you when you give him his marching papers.”

  “I am not that foolhardy. They tried to kill Depew this afternoon. Hurry back, Bunny. I am frightened out of my wits, harboring that pair of assassins.”

  I was sad, too, that my great love affair had fizzled out to nothing. What is it about rakes and ruthless men that we foolish ladies inevitably fall in love with them?

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was eleven o’clock before Bunny returned from the inn. “Depew’s not there,” he said.

  “Did they say when he was expected to return? How badly was he hurt?”

  “They hadn’t seen him since noon. I tried the blasted pine. There’s no message there either.”

  “He has men posted around the house. Perhaps one of them knows where he is. Or he might be there himself,” I said, brightening at the possibility.

  “Best have a look.”

  I snatched up a shawl and we went out together. A dense fog had rolled in from the sea. It hugged the ground in an impenetrable blanket, which lightened to rags of cloud above, but still made vision uncertain. The moon was reduced to a dull glow behind layers of mist. Every bush assumed the form of a man, every tree a giant. We went peering into the mist, calling softly. We had no fear that Depew’s men would shoot us. They would know we were on the right side. One advantage of the fog was that it prevented Snoad from spotting us, if he chanced to glance down from the loft.

  We circled the house, calling into the night, then made a larger circle, without encountering a single soul. “That is odd! He told us he was having the house watched at all times,” I said. “Did the inn say when he would be back?”

  “Not a word. He wasn’t in. That’s all they said.”

  “Fairfield said he had winged him. I hope it was not serious. Oh, Bunny, if he is dead—” My voice quavered.

  “And Caesar bringing in a message tonight ...”

  “It is all on our shoulders now,” I said, trying to rise to the occasion, and draw Bunny along with me, for his voice was also unsteady. “There is another thing. Snoad will send out a false reply to that message. It might mean the difference in winning or losing the war. We cannot let him do it.”

  We stood a moment, considering the unique and important role that Fate had assigned us, half proud of the honor, and half scared out of our wits.

  “You’ll have to turn Snoad off tonight,” he said. “And Fairfield, too.”

  “What shall I tell Auntie?”

  “May just have to tell her the truth—tomorrow.”

  “Do you have your pi
stol? We cannot go up there unarmed.”

  “Right here,” he said, patting a bulge in his jacket.

  I was shaking like an aspen in the wind when we returned to the house. We had a glass of wine to give us false courage, and while we drank, we discussed details of how to handle the situation.

  “I shall take along a few footmen,” I said.

  “Can’t. Depew don’t want anyone to know what’s going on. We’ll continue to follow his plan, do the thing right. Mean to say, we want to go on using Gracefield after we catch this lot. Can’t if all the servants know what is afoot. The whole town would soon know.” This definitely called for another glass of wine.

  “They may both be armed. I wish I had Papa’s pistol.”

  “Thing to do, you take my pistol. I’ll get a rifle. Too big for a lady to handle.” We went to the gun room and selected a gun. Bunny charged it with ammunition, and we smuggled it in the folds of my skirt back to the saloon.

  “I hope Fairfield is downstairs by now. It would be easier if we could attack them one by one,” I said.

  “We’ll try Fairfleld’s room on the way up.”

  How did a lady summarily invite an invited guest, a lord at that, to quit her house at gunpoint in the middle of the night? I poured another glass of wine. Perhaps it was the surfeit of wine that suggested my next course of action. “Poison!” I exclaimed.

  “Eh?”

  “I shall poison them.”

  He considered this a moment. “A bit drastic,” he said. “Mean to say, against the law, but a sleeping draft would help. How did you plan to do it? In a bottle of wine?”

  “In their feed. I mean the birds, not Snoad and Fairfield. If I poison all the birds, then Snoad cannot send out his false message. By morning we will have met with Depew—”

  Bunny’s shaking head suggested we might never see our mentor again. “Or whoever is sent to replace him. No doubt that is why no one is watching the house. They have gone to report Depew’s death. And whoever they send to replace Depew can handle getting rid of Snoad and Fairfield.”

  “Do the pigeons feed at night?” he asked.

  “No, but first thing in the morning.”

  “If Caesar arrives tonight, Snoad might send the false message out immediately.”

  “Then you must take the rifle and stand guard below the loft. If Caesar approaches, shoot him. We’ll retrieve the message and give it to Depew, or the man who replaces him.”

  “By the living jingo, it might just work. Must own—I wasn’t looking forward to tackling Snoad. Think I might be able to take Fairfield, but Snoad—gypsies know fighting tricks.”

  “Before you go outdoors, come up to the loft with me, and just make sure it is empty—of men, I mean. I shall round up all the rat poison I can find and mix it in with the birds’ feed.”

  “I’ll go up. You stay here,” he said manfully. And I, womanly, had no fault to find with this arrangement.

  I went to the pantry where the rat poison is kept, and gathered up a half-empty box and a full one. I met Bunny again in the saloon.

  “They’re in Snoad’s room, both of ‘em,” he said.

  “Could we bar the door?”

  “They’d be bound to hear us. I’ll nip out and make sure Caesar don’t get into the loft while you run up and mix the poison in with the feed.”

  “You—you wouldn’t care to come with me, Bunny?”

  “You’re safe as a church, my girl. They’re into the brandy. I heard Snoad say he must be back at the loft by two. You have hours to spare.”

  “I’ll come down and tell you when I’ve finished–just so you know I am safe.”

  He nodded. “You’ll know if you hear a shot that I’ve winged Caesar.”

  Bunny was a good shot. He wouldn’t miss. Of course, I disliked having to kill Caesar, but between a champion pigeon and the fate of a whole country, there was really no choice. Bunny took the rifle and went out the south door. I took the pistol and my courage and began the long ascent up to the loft. There was no sound from Fairfield’s room. I assumed he was still with Snoad. Should I not wait until he had retired? No, this was mere cowardice. With the false courage of three quick glasses of wine, I proceeded on my way.

  But I did wish, as I drew open the loft door, that I had insisted Bunny come with me. He could have waited five minutes to begin his lookout for Caesar. In fact, we would have been the first to encounter Caesar if he returned to the loft while we were here. It must have been the wine that made our thinking so fuzzy.

  I waited a moment to make sure Snoad was not lurking in the dark. When I had accounted for all the shadows, I moved forward into the loft. A few drowsy birds set up a cooing, but it soon died down. Snoad made sure the feed trays were empty at night, to prevent the pigeons from thinking about food, but the water pans were full. There were three of them: one at either end, and one in the middle. It would make a racket, getting at the feed bags. Snoad kept them in a cupboard behind Caesar’s tree. I decided the poison would be as effective in water as in their feed. Pigeons were thirsty birds. I had to set the pistol aside to do the job. I emptied the first partial box into one pan and stirred it up with my finger, as I could find no spoon. Then I tore open the full box and added it to the other two pans, also stirring them.

  My heart was thumping like a rabbit’s all the time I was there. I was preternaturally alert to any slight sound or motion. A few birds rearranged their feathers. They were either disturbed by my presence, or having pigeon dreams. I waited till they settled down, then began to move on tiptoe to the door. As I reached it, it opened, seemingly of its own volition. My blood turned to wax in my veins. It must be a draft. There hadn’t been a sound on the stairs. I waited, heart in my mouth, breath suspended, while the door opened wider.

  Then I saw them, Snoad and Fairfield. Fairfield was unarmed, but Snoad carried a gun—Papa’s gun. I realized that I had left Bunny’s pistol sitting on the floor beside the water pan. In my eagerness to escape, I had forgotten it. We stared at each other for a moment in mutual astonishment. It was Snoad who recovered first.

  He leapt in the door, handed Fairfield the gun, clamped an iron hand over my lips, while with the other hand he wrenched my arms behind me. The words he uttered have no place in a polite novel, or in anyone’s mouth.

  “By God, you were right!” Fairfield said. “You have ears like a fox, Kerwood. I didn’t hear anything. What are you doing here, Miss Hume?” He looked with distaste at the rough way Snoad was handling me.

  “Take a look around the loft. She’s up to something,” Snoad ordered.

  Fairfield walked up and down. He found the pistol, of course, and the two boxes of rat poison. “My God, she’s poisoned the birds!” he exclaimed.

  A tide of ugly verbiage even worse than before issued from Snoad’s lips. I had never heard such language, even in the stable when the hands didn’t know I was nearby. To hear it directed at myself was degrading, and enraging. And to make it worse, I couldn’t say a word for the hand that held my mouth closed.

  I heard Snoad’s heavy breathing behind me. It was more menacing than his oaths. “They don’t feed at night,” he said. “It must be in the water. Check it.”

  Fairfield ran to the water pans. “There’s something floating here.”

  “Empty it at once—all three of them.”

  Fairfield, like a footman, carried the water pans to the mesh grating and sloshed the poisoned water out. I wondered if Bunny was caught in the downpour. If so, he remained silent, but he must be extremely curious. I prayed that he would be curious enough to come and investigate before the half hour was up.

  “What are we going to do with her?” Fairfield asked when he had finished his job.

  “We’ll have to get rid other,” Snoad said flatly.

  He spoke of murder as nonchalantly as he might ask for a cup of tea. I made a gagging sound of objection. He pulled my arms harder, and I fell silent. “Take off your cravat,” he said to Fairfield. Within a minute, it
was tied around my open mouth, tightly lodged between my teeth, preventing any sounds but gargles of outrage.

  “There are some ropes in the cupboard behind the tree. Bring me a length” was Snoad’s next order.

  Fairfield said, “Kerwood, do you really think—”

  “Get them.”

  I tried to wrench my arms free. As that was unsuccessful, I tried to kick him. Between the inefficacy of soft patent slippers and the difficulty of kicking backwards, for Snoad was behind me, that, too, was useless.

  Before I knew what was happening, I was trussed up like a goose for the oven, with my arms behind my back, and my feet tied to a pole supporting the pigeon nests. I couldn’t even roll or wiggle my way to the stairs and pitch myself down. If I succeeded in moving, I would have the weight of all that lumber on top of me, to say nothing of a hundred angry pigeons.

  “What are we going to tell Mrs. Lovatt?” Fairfield demanded. I tried to look innocent, in hopes that Fairfield would take pity and save me.

  “We’ll make up some tale.”

  “You are inventive! What can possibly account for her disappearance?”

  Disappearance was French for death. They were going to kill me. As they would prefer a death that looked accidental, I had the feeling I would soon be flying from the bartizan, to be dashed on the ground below.

  “A runaway match,” Snoad said indifferently.

  “You’d have to go with her in that case.”

  “I am not the runaway groom I had in mind. I cannot leave, but her disappearance will make an excellent excuse for us to remain here, helping to look for her.”

  “We’ll need a man. Am I it?” Fairfield asked reluctantly.

  “Her great friend Depew would be my choice. We know he won’t be returning,” he said, and laughed.

  What had they done to Depew? Good God, if I lived, my reputation would be ruined. I made a growling sound in my throat, while looking daggers at them.