Whispering (19 page)

She had stood all this time, silent, head bowed, the fair hair falling to screen her face, her hands quiet in his. Now she looked up at him, the grey eyes brimming with tears. ‘You knew all the time?'

‘I was sent to find out. But how could I help loving you? I have told them nothing yet. I am ashamed, but it is true. I love you too much to let harm come to a hair of your head. I shall have to resign, of course. But I have friends; I shall come about. We will be happy you and I. Together against the world …'

‘You are so sweet.' Slowly, almost langorously, she raised her lips to his.

‘Rachel!' He was devouring her, lips, cheeks, hair, the delicate body clasped against his. And getting a message he could not mistake. ‘Rachel?'

‘I enjoyed that.' She pulled away from him at last, smiling like a contented cat. ‘Very much. But we must be practical, you and I. Love in a cottage would not suit either of us. And besides you don't love me, dear creature, though it is kind of you to say so. Were you perhaps brought up to think you must love every woman you fancied? Now, we have not much time!' With a quick practical look at the clock ticking away on the mantelpiece. ‘Ralph will break in and surprise us in just half an hour. He thinks I have been going too slowly with you; it was to be blackmail from now on. But I like you too well to let that happen to you, my little Jeremy. So, what are we to do? You knew – they knew in England all the time, you say?'

‘Suspected. We knew there was a leak here in Oporto; I was sent to find it.'

‘Looking for just one, my poor friend? The place leaks like a sieve.' Another glance at the clock. ‘I'll make a bargain with you, Jeremy Craddock. Safe passage home to America for me and Ralph and I'll find out for you who the others are. Now I can't say prettier than that, can I?' Disconcertingly, as she talked her voice had coarsened, taken on an accent he did not recognise, except as alien.

For some reason he did not understand it made him feel he must repeat his offer. ‘I meant it,' he said. ‘I meant every word
of it. If that is what you want, Rachel, I'll take you to America, marry you and work for you there. Why are you laughing?' It felt like a slap in the face.

‘Nice Jeremy, you understand nothing. If only I could, I really believe I might be tempted to chance it. Lord knows, you are an infinitely better prospect than my poor Ralph, but I can't, you see. He's not my brother, Jeremy Craddock, he's my husband. And here he comes. Leave this to me.' She turned to face the door as Ralph Emerson threw it open, then stopped on the threshold, surprised at the tableau he did not see.

‘In the nick of time, my dear,' said Rachel coolly. ‘We are playing this scene quite differently, as things turn out. Mr Craddock knew about us all the time. Indeed, he was sent here to track us down, and has succeeded.' She turned, smiling, to Jeremy. ‘How satisfying to think that all that gold you have poured into my husband's hands is British government gold after all. I was really hating to take it from you, my poor young friend. Little did I know! The case is,' back to the man Jeremy was furiously recognising as in fact her husband, ‘Mr Craddock is in the process of agreeing to arrange our passage to America in exchange for a little information in his turn. Now, don't lose your temper, Ralph, this is no time for a scene.' She laid a restraining hand on his arm. ‘The goose that laid the golden eggs is dead; you'll get no more little packets of sovereigns from Mr Craddock. And, frankly, the sooner I am away from this place the happier I shall be. I don't a bit like the feel of things here; it's blowing up for a tempest, and I'd rather be clear away before it starts.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘I don't know what I mean, but I know what I feel. Do you remember, Ralph, back in the spring of 1803, before war broke out again, how nervous I felt, how I urged that we take the first boat back to America? How I wish we had. This time, I tell you, I shall go even if you do not. I'd rather scrub floors for a living back in New England than live the shabby kind of life we have here. I mean it, Ralph, believe that I mean it. And I know Mr Craddock will help me.'

‘Of course I will.' What else could he say? ‘Mr Camo has a ship sailing for the States in ten days or so,' he told her. ‘I'm sure he will arrange passages for you two, if I ask him. And if you keep your side of the bargain.' It struck him that there would be some satisfaction in using his secret service funds for their passages.

‘And what, pray, is that?' Ralph Emerson still looked close to explosion point.

‘I'll tell you later, Ralph, but I will tell you now, with Mr Craddock as witness, that this worm has turned. I wonder why I have let you browbeat me for so long, and make so many mistakes for us both. You know perfectly well that your French masters (yes, it is the French, Mr Craddock) have never taken you quite seriously; the pay has been miserable; the conditions wretched; I've misused the gift God gave me to no purpose. Whatever you decide to do, Ralph Emerson, I am going back to America on Mr Camo's ship. And if you so much as lay a finger on me, I will report you to the police here. Mr Craddock will back me, and with a bit of luck I will leave you to rot in a Portuguese gaol.'

‘You really mean it.' He looked suddenly abject, a bully exploded.

‘I really mean it. I'm glad you believe me.' She turned to Jeremy. ‘Goodbye, Mr Craddock. I thank you with all my heart for what you have done for me today. And you shall have your information when we have our passages. And, Mr Craddock – Jeremy – don't mind too much.'

It was pouring with rain when Jeremy got outside into the stinking alley and he was glad, it suited his mood. Fool, idiot, fool. Hardly aware what he was doing he began to climb the steep slope towards the cathedral, and then beyond, up to the ruins of the seminary where Wellington had made his landing two years before. It was deserted up there, the rain bucketing down, he could stand unnoticed and curse his own folly. He had let her make a lovesick fool of him, he who had sworn long ago that he would never trust a woman. It was good to feel the rain wash the taste of her off his lips, the feel of her from his body.
Gradually, beginning to feel colder, damper and somehow purged, he began to think about it all again, differently. She had not mocked him, not really. When she had said she enjoyed his kisses, she had meant it. And so had he. I've lost a love, he thought, and maybe found a friend. How very odd. And he walked five miles upriver and back through the drenching rain without thinking of anything at all.

‘Mr Craddock, where in the world have you been?' Mrs Ware exclaimed in horror when he finally returned and unfortunately met her in the hall as he came dripping in from the sodden outdoors.

‘Walking,' he told her. ‘I'm sorry to flood your house, ma'am. I'll go straight to my room.' He knew she was thinking of her Axminster and her chintzes.

‘I trust you have dined, Mr Ware. We waited for you as long as we could.'

‘I'm so sorry –'

‘You'll take tea with us, I hope. In half an hour? I'll have hot water sent up.'

‘Thank you. It's more than I deserve.' He looked at the little pool of water forming at his feet on the marble floor of her cold hall.

Changing swiftly into dry clothes, he had the strangest feeling that he was recovering from an illness. He felt free, clearheaded, his own man again. He ought to be broken hearted and instead he was relieved. And, best of all, it looked as if he was going to get the information he had been sent for, just for the price of two passages to America. He would be able to stop pretending to be an invalid; he would be able to leave this gossipy town where Rachel Emerson felt disaster looming, and return to England, a step taken forward in his career.

He was knotting his cravat, met his own eyes in the looking glass. He did not want to go back to England and take up his career. If Rachel Emerson was right, if disaster was really imminent here in this dangerous town, how could he leave? And did he want to go on with work that involved him in such shabby pretences? It suddenly struck him that he could hardly go to his
cousin Caterina, and tell her that he was not a sick man at all, had merely been feigning sickness in order to advance his career. He remembered how kind, how considerate of him the two girls had been on the voyage out and thought he would rather die than admit it had all been pretence. So, best go at once? And leave them to the dangers Rachel felt threatened here in Oporto with no protector but that old curmudgeon of a father and his attendant priest?

His half hour was almost up. He must not be late again. He retied his cravat with ruthless efficiency, shrugged into his best jacket, ran a comb through damp hair and hurried downstairs.

‘That looks better, Mr Craddock. I do hope you have not taken cold.' Mrs Ware was alone, enthroned behind her elaborate tea equipage. ‘Frank has gone to see Miss Gomez,' she went on. ‘He quite haunts that house these days. He says it is something to do with this mysterious new work of his, but I think you and I know better, do not we?' With a roguish look. ‘It's a little difficult to imagine how a charming young thing like Caterina Gomez could be associated with Major Dickson and his material of war.' She handed him his tea cup. ‘Just as you like it, I fancy. Now, Mr Craddock, I am hoping for a word of advice from you.'

‘I should be delighted. Thank you.' He took the cup and put it down on the gilt-legged table beside him. ‘Anything I can do –' He looked as puzzled as he felt.

‘You're thinking I should ask Frank!' She gave one of her braying laughs. ‘A boy, Mr Craddock, a charming boy. I flatter myself, but a boy for all that. Now, I recognised you from the start as quite the man of the world, for all your unfortunate illness. I am sure you can give me just the advice I need. The case is this: I have been approached, on the very highest level, but the less said about that, perhaps, the better. All most flattering, most civil … Who would have thought when I planned my modest little party that it would come to this? If only my poor husband were alive, how happy it would make him. And then, of course, I would not need anyone's advice but his. But as it is – a
poor widow woman with no one to turn to … I know I can trust you with a secret, Mr Craddock.'

‘Of course. You said a high-level approach –' He could not help but be interested.

‘About my party. Yes. It seems that a very important person indeed is planning a bolt to Oporto, as he calls it, for next week. When he heard about my party, he most graciously said he would like to drop in on it. No pomp, no circumstance and above all no talk, just a friendly visit and a dance or two with some elegant company. He's being dined at the Factory that day, you see, and means just to walk over and give us a look in. All very fine, but what I need to know is when. My Frank has never been to one of their formal dinners, so he's no help at all.'

‘I'm sorry to disappoint you, ma'am, but nor have I. And anyway, does it matter if it is indeed to be a surprise visit?'

‘Of course it matters. Why do you think I was warned of the “surprise” if it was not so that I could make suitable arrangements? I am sure you can find out for me, Mr Craddock. But tactfully, of course, so that no one has any idea …'

‘I am sure I can,' he told her. And so could your son. But he did not say that.

Calling at the Gomez house, Frank Ware found the two girls on the point of leaving to visit their dressmaker. ‘I am so sorry, Mr Ware,' Caterina apologised. ‘But if we are not to disgrace your mother next week we must keep our engagement with Madame Feuillide.'

‘And we want to look our very best, now we know who is coming,' said Harriet. ‘I could hardly sleep last night for thinking of it.'

‘You won't forget that it is a deep secret,' he warned. ‘Madame Feuillide has lived here for ever, I know, but the fact remains that she is French. Don't for goodness sake let anything drop about why you want to look your best.'

‘Our lips are sealed,' Harriet promised him. ‘You would be surprised how well women can keep a secret if they really want to.' Was it his imagination or did she and Caterina Gomez exchange a quick glance?

Caterina had risen as a servant appeared to announce that the carriage was ready. She picked up a paper from the table beside her. ‘Here is a list of names and directions I got from old Tonio.' She handed it to him. ‘He says he is sure most of them will be happy to find work under almost any conditions. I had not realised quite how bad things are here in Porto. It all looks the
same on the surface, or not much different, but Tonio says there is real despair, real hunger, in the back alleys and out in the country. He actually asked me to be careful where we went, Harriet and I. Me, a Gomez! It's hard to believe.'

‘But I beg you to take the man seriously,' he urged. ‘I have heard tales of highway robberies on the road to Braga, of desperate men who would risk their lives for a few
scudos
. You do always take an armed escort, I trust, when you go riding down at Foz?'

‘We take a groom,' she said. ‘If you like I'll make sure he is armed. And in return I suggest that you do not take any sidealley short cuts on the way home from here, Mr Ware. Tonio said something that made me a little anxious – about feelings towards the British. You do rather keep yourselves to yourselves, don't you, and behave as if the world were your oyster.'

‘You are talking as if you were not half British yourself, Cat,' protested Harriet.

‘Why, so I am. How very strange.'

The two girls sat silent for a while as the carriage lurched forward through rain-sodden lanes. Caterina had told Harriet everything that had passed between her and Luiz's grandmother, and they had discussed it upside down, backwards, and sideways, in the day that had passed since she met the old lady. And at the end of it all, they seemed to be back where they had started. Caterina could not bring herself to believe that Luiz was as bad as his grandmother had painted him. Or was it, Harriet wondered, that she could not bring herself to admit that she believed it? She had promised to be infinitely careful in what she said to him, but felt she must suspend judgement until she had talked to him. ‘After all,' she said in the carriage, as she had said before, several times, ‘Madame Feuillide is a clever woman. She has deceived the Portonions easily enough, maybe she has fooled Luiz too.'