Vintage Love (12 page)

It was a moment neither of them would soon forget! Her eyes met his, and she saw both fear and admiration there. She held the blade point in that deadly position for a few seconds longer and then backed away.

He stood up and took off his mask. Staring at her, he said, “You could have killed me!”

She had removed her own mask, and now she nodded. “Yes. I found the moment frightening.”

“It wasn’t exactly pleasant for me,” the young man said. “Especially knowing how you feel about me.”

“I wasn’t thinking of anything but our match,” she said stolidly. “What happened to you?”

He looked embarrassed. “A souvenir of Waterloo! My right knee was injured. They thought I might have to lose the leg. But it healed. Every now and then it gives me trouble. Without any warning!”

She said, “I thought you escaped without any harm.”

“I wasn’t killed,” he said, “but I was wounded.”

“Knowing you have this weakness, it is rather mad of you to keep on fencing,” she said.

He smiled grimly. “I thought I was up against an amateur. That I had nothing to worry about. You are better than good.”

She said, “I had an excellent teacher. An officer who was an aide-de-camp to Napoleon on Saint Helena. He had plenty of time to take pains in teaching me.”

“He did well.”

“Thank you.”

“Did the emperor ever see you handle a sword?”

“Many times.”

“What did he think of you?”

“He told me I was an apt student and that he loved fencing. He had been an expert when he was a young officer.”

Major Eric Walters said, “If you don’t mind, I’ll give you a better than passing mark with Felix. And I won’t fence with you again.”

She raised her eyebrows. “How else am I to keep in good practice?”

The young man picked up his sword. “You don’t need to improve,” he said grimly. “You’re good enough.”

She went to the window and looked down into the cobbled cul-de-sac far below. She said, “All this seems like a dream. I’m sure I’m going to wake up soon and find myself safely home in bed in Kent. That none of this can be real.”

He came over to stand beside her. “I promise you it is real enough.”

She glanced at him. “Until all this happened, I lived in a secure little world. I didn’t know there were so many other worlds.”

He smiled bleakly. “Perhaps you were wrong to run away. You should have stayed in Kent and married.”

She eyed him angrily. “What do you know about it?”

“Nothing, I must admit.”

She turned to stare out the window again. “After my father’s death, I had no one. My mother is so weak. If my brother Richard had lived, it would have been different for me.”

He said, “I know you blame me for Richard. But I had no wish to cost him his life. He was my friend.”

She eyed him again in angry fashion. “I think that makes it worse. He must have trusted you, and you betrayed him!”

The young man shook his head. “I did not betray him. I followed my orders and sent him into battle. But I was at his side until I fell wounded.”

“I’d rather not discuss it,” she said wearily. “I’m going down to change.”

She went back to her room and bathed her face and slowly changed back into her dress. She was trembling a little at the remembrance of what had happened in the attic. She knew, and she alone, that there had been that first second after she’d disarmed Eric Walters and pressed the point of the sword against his throat that she had the impulse to drive it on through!

The blood would have gushed forth, and he would have choked to death. She would have been hysterical, and no one would have blamed her. It would be put down as an unfortunate accident. Perhaps Felix Black might guess, but he would not accuse her. He would perhaps be more satisfied with her and consider her better equipped for the business ahead.

When she went downstairs, Mrs. Glenn told her she was wanted in the study. She went down the hall and found the old man there standing looking out the window. On hearing her enter, he turned.

He said, “The fog is returning again.”

“It seems you often have fog in London,” she replied, feeling tense and wondering where Eric Walters had gone.

The master spy’s thin face showed no expression. He said, “It is the time of year. We suffer most in the spring and in the fall. But I have a liking for it.”

She smiled. “Perhaps because a thick fog offers easy concealment. Excellent for espionage.”

“Yes, that frankly is one reason for my not minding it,” he said. “Walters has left for the day.”

“Oh?”

“You could have killed him, I understand.”

“I think he exaggerates.”

“He didn’t act as if he were exaggerating,” the master spy said. “I think he was badly unsettled.”

“I had no intention of harming him.”

“I wonder,” Black said, studying her. “I think you have depths which most people don’t perceive.”

She tried to dismiss this lightly. “Mightn’t that be said of almost everyone. Few wear their hearts on their sleeves.”

“Certainly not you,” he said. “I congratulate you on your fencing skill. And I have word for you from Kent.”

Betsy gasped. “You have told them where I am?”

He shook his head. “Never fear that.”

“What is the news from Kent?” she asked.

“You will be relieved to know that Lord Alfred Dakin has recovered sufficiently to return to his home. My informant says he left in a high dudgeon!”

“A horrible old man!” she said angrily.

“Yes,” the master spy agreed in a dry tone. “I very much doubt that your stepfather will get the loan he requires so badly from him.”

“I do not care,” she said. “Surely there is enough land to sell to look after my mother. Let Sir John curb his gambling.”

“I do not expect he will do that,” the man standing by the desk said. “I know the pattern. He has likely approached the moneylenders again and is on his way back to the gaming tables.”

“Surely his losses should teach him a lesson.”

“Gamblers seldom reform. As a matter of fact I know that Sir John has returned to London. He was seen gambling at Watier’s last night.”

She at once felt uneasy. “I should leave the city as soon as possible. He mustn’t find me.”

Felix Black gave her a reproving glance. “There are times when you lack the spirit I expect in you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You must learn to face danger if you are to be a secret agent. Learn to have confidence in yourself.”

“This is different! It is a personal matter!”

“Not so different,” he said. “It will be at least a week before you and the others will be leaving for Marseilles. In the meantime I want you to move about the city and be seen.”

“I cannot!” she protested. “Not with my stepfather here and probably conducting a search for me.”

“You will not appear as yourself,” the master spy told her. “You will be the French mistress of Major Walters. In the black wig with a delicate black mole affixed to your cheek and suitable costume you will not be a simple country girl but a woman of the world.”

She stared at him in amazement. “You expect me to go through with a charade like that?”

“I not only expect but I insist,” the thin old man said. “You must learn to be able to face situations with confidence. This is the only way.”

She took a deep breath. It sounded as mad to her as all the other business associated with him. Yet perhaps there was sense in this seeming insanity. It depended on one’s outlook.

She said, “I had no idea becoming a secret agent could be so complicated.”

“You’re only at the beginning,” he told her. “And by the way what are you feelings regarding young Walters now?”

Betsy hesitated. “Would you expect them to have changed?”

“You know him better.”

“I still do not know the truth of that day at Waterloo,” she said.

“So you do not trust him?”

“Not completely.”

“At least you are frank,” the old man said. “He thinks most highly of you.”

“I cannot help that.”

“I think you are doing him a wrong.”

“Perhaps.”

“However it does not matter as long as you can be civil to each other and work in harmony.”

“I have no fear of that,” she told him.

“You may go now,” the old man said, seating himself at his desk.

The next morning when George Frederick Kingston arrived, he sought her out at once. He was in a jubilant mood as he told her, “I found the lad, and he’s safe in my cousin’s care.”

“I thank you, Mr. Kingston,” she said. “I have not been able to get the lad off my mind.”

“He was inquiring for you,” the actor told her. “He is truly grateful for what you’ve done for him.”

“Without your help it would not have been possible.”

“I played only a small role,” Kingston said. “My cousin is of the opinion hell make an excellent apprentice.”

“I sincerely hope so,” she said. “And when I have finished with my work here, I shall look him up and give him encouragement.”

Felix Black had the three of them in his studio for a brief lecture. His first information was, “I have received word from my agent in Italy that the man presumed to be Napoleon was taken to somewhere near the French border.”

The dashing Eric Walters asked, “Does that mean Valmy is pushing ahead with his plan for an uprising sooner than you expected?”

“I think not,” the master spy said carefully. “My feeling is that he wishes to keep his man on the move. That could indicate this Napoleon is an impersonator and not the genuine thing.”

Walters nodded. “There is bound to be less chance of an impersonation being discovered if this Napoleon is kept on the go and out of reach of those who knew him well.”

“Exactly,” the master spy said. “And that is where Miss Chapman becomes so important. A short conversation with this man calling himself Napoleon should make it clear to her whether he is a fake or the real Napoleon.”

“We are also to check in Marseilles,” Walters said. “There is the question of whether the look-alike lies in the cemetery there.”

“Your first task will be to make that investigation,” Felix Black agreed. “At the same time my other agents will keep me informed of the movements of Valmy and his group.”

Betsy spoke up. “I suppose it is reasonable to assume this Valmy has his own secret agents.”

The man in black nodded grimly. “His forces outnumber ours by many. At the moment I think he is unaware of my plan, but once it becomes known, there is bound to be a battle between our forces.”

“Sounds exciting,” George Frederick Kingston enthused. “Rather like joining the army!”

Major Eric Walters gave the actor a look of scorn. “Not quite, my friend,” he said quietly. “In this kind of war someone comes up on you from behind to slit your throat and leave you to die in some dark alley.”

Felix Black said sharply, “No need to be melodramatic, Walters. You will discourage our recruits.”

The handsome young man said, “I think it only fair they know the hazards, sir.”

Kingston looked slightly upset. Glancing at Betsy, he asked, “Is this a proper field for a woman?”

“Do not concern yourself about me,” she told the actor. “I’m willing to take the risks.”

“And quite capable of taking them, especially when it comes to using a sword,” the handsome Walters said with a grim smile. “I can still feel the cold steel on my throat.”

“I wish to make the best use possible of your time before you embark for Marseilles,” Felix Black said. “I want you to have some experience playing your roles. Kingston is to pose as your wealthy father, Walters. And Miss Chapman is to play the part of your mistress. Your French mistress while you are still here in London.”

Betsy blushed. “Could I not be his sister?”

“No,” the master spy said. “It is better this way. I want you to pretend to be very much in love. And as the boy’s father Kingston will be caught between admiration for your beauty and disapproval at the idea of a French mistress having so much power over his son.”

“By Jove you have it all worked out to the last letter,” Kingston said with admiration. “The sort of role I can get my teeth into.”

“You will be playing it for a long while, so you must be as perfect as possible,” the master spy said. “You will need to whiten your hair, add a bit of paunch, and above all dress well but not with the flamboyancy of your normal dress.”

The actor looked chastened. “I assume you will pay the bills for my costumes, sir.”

“You may go to my tailor’s and see if he can fix you up with some sort of rack suits,” the man behind the desk said. “I want all three of you to make your first public appearance tonight.”

“Tonight!” she exclaimed. “That seems very soon.”

“I have a reason,” Felix Black said. “My good friend, Sir Humphrey Wood, is having a ball and gambling at his new home in Regent Street. As a favor to me he has included you three on his list of guests.”

Eric Walters looked slightly upset, “But look here. I know old Sir Humphrey. I have seen him often at my club.”

“He has never met your father?” the master spy asked.

“No,” Walters said. “My father chooses to bury himself in the country. He is a recluse. He never journeys to London.”

“So Kingston can play your parent without any risk,” the master spy said in his dry fashion as if it were all quite normal. “The fact you know Sir Humphrey makes it all the better. Most of London’s society will be there.”

Betsy said, “And I’m to wear my wig and play the French mistress? A rather unusual introduction to London society.”

The handsome Walters gave her a warm glance. “I’m sure the town will approve of my choice.”

Felix Black said, “Miss Chapman, I want you to allow Mademoiselle to dress you and make you up. When she finishes, you will look exactly like a French woman of easy virtue. A padded gown will enhance your curves, and you should be most convincing.”

“What about answering questions?” she said. “That might be awkward.”

The master spy said, “I think for this little escapade it would be best if you pretended not to know English.”

Betsy wanted to know, “Suppose some buck speaks to me in French?”