CHAPTER NINETEEN
As Lady Blackstone began talking with Felicity, Philip hurried upstairs to his room. He quickly opened the hidden compartment in his trunk and took out the original papers and the key hidden there. He tucked them in his waistcoat and stepped out into the corridor, closing his door behind him.
“Merrick!” Ratley stood three feet away. “I was just going to look for someone to play billiards. Won’t you join me?”
“Oh, of course. Let me just . . . change my coat. I’ll only be a minute.” Philip ducked back in the room, carefully removed the papers from his waistcoat, placed them back inside the secret compartment, and changed his coat.
When Philip came out of his room, Ratley was waiting for him.
Philip did not exactly relish playing billiards with Ratley, but perhaps he could ask him some questions. The man was rather gullible for a revolutionary. And if there was one thing Philip had learned from his older brothers, it was not to be gullible.
They walked down to the billiard room together, and as they entered, Philip asked, “So, have you and Miss Mayson set a date for your nuptials?”
Ratley opened his mouth, then pressed his lips tightly together. “As a matter of fact, we have not.” He took a deep breath and heaved a sigh. “I am for sooner, and she is for later, though I cannot understand why.”
“My brother went through the exact same thing with his wife.”
“He did?”
“Yes, and I shall explain it all to you and tell you exactly how to act.”
Ratley turned wide eyes on him. “I would be grateful for your advice.”
“You see, we men are always impatient to have the words said and the matter resolved, once we have made up our minds to wed. But women, well, they feel very differently.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. You see, women feel so much more deeply than we men. Sometimes it is difficult for them to get their feelings and their thoughts moving together. Does that make sense?”
Ratley’s forehead creased. “Do you mean, they want to get married . . . too much?”
“Yes! You understood me precisely.” Philip was making this up as he went, but, thank you, Lord, he was selling it well enough for Ratley to buy. “The core of the matter is”—Philip put a hand on Ratley’s shoulder—“Miss Mayson is quite attached to you. Anyone who sees the two of you together cannot help but believe that. But, as with all ladies, she needs a little time to get used to the idea of marriage.”
“I suppose that makes sense. She is very devoted to me.”
“Of course. And I saw Lady Blackstone talking with her in the garden just now. That is just the thing she needs—an older woman who has been married before, helping her to accustom herself to the ideas and duties of marriage.” Philip clapped Ratley, hard, on the back. “Give her some time. Two or three weeks. You’ll see. She will be as happy and anxious to marry as you are.”
“I suppose it cannot hurt to wait a little longer, although I must leave in two weeks.” Ratley’s brow was still wrinkled. “I suppose I could wait . . . twelve days or so.”
“Absolutely. Your union will be the stronger for it.”
“You truly think so?”
“I know so. You cannot lose, for a woman of Miss Mayson’s gentility cannot be expected to marry only a week or two after getting engaged. It’s nearly unthinkable—for a woman of her refinement and sensibilities. You understand that, do you not?”
“Yes. Now that you explain it that way . . . it makes sense.”
Mr. Ratley used his cue stick to make the first shot as he leaned over the table. In a few more minutes he was smiling and making jokes and in quite good humor.
Philip did not play very well and lost the billiard game, but he’d already played—and won—the important game.
Felicity trudged up the stairs to her room. Perhaps she could take a nap before dinner. She wasn’t sure she could face anyone again without a respite.
When Felicity opened the door, Aunt Agnes crossed the room to meet her.
“Felicity, are you in some sort of danger?”
“Why do you ask that, Auntie?”
“I’ve been thinking about what you told me, that we could not write any letters home, and that our hosts were trying to revolt against the government.”
“Oh, Auntie, I beg you not to worry.” Felicity sank down on the edge of her bed and pulled out one particular hairpin that had been stabbing her scalp. “I shall get us out of this mess, I promise.” But could she really promise that? She’d already fainted in a critical moment and otherwise proven that she was not much of a spy. So, she added, “God willing, He shall get us out of this.”
“Is there anything I can do? Too frequently, I allow others to bear my burdens, but I don’t want to leave you all alone in the matter.” Auntie seemed more clear-eyed than usual.
“That is very kind of you, Auntie, truly.” Felicity had never known her aunt to have such strength of mind and be so . . . aware—of herself and her circumstances. “But I don’t know what you could do to help. And I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I am not a child. I know I am sometimes nervous and fidgety, but I don’t wish to be a silly old spinster who is a burden to her family. If there is anything I’ve learned from novels, it is that people can change, if they truly wish to. And they can be sensible, not silly. Consider Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice. She does not allow herself to be intimidated. She would fight back against revolutionaries, not hide in her room. And I shall not hide either.”
Aunt Agnes pursed her lips in a look of determination. Felicity could not recall ever seeing that look on her face before.
“Perhaps there is something you can do. I have been meeting with Mr.—with my friend who is employed by the Home Office to stop the revolution.” It seemed unwise to trust Aunt Agnes with the knowledge that Mr. Merrick was a spy. But she would have to tell her if she was going to allow her to help. “That friend is Mr. Merrick, and if anything should ever happen to me, he is the one person you can trust. He and I have been meeting in a book closet just off the library. I have been pretending to go to the library to get a book for you, but you can go with me next time and be our lookout. If anyone comes into the library, you can warn us by speaking very loudly, or possibly by distracting them and getting them to leave with you.”
“Oh yes, I would be able to do that.” Auntie smiled, her eyes bright. “I could say that I was there to get a book, and then I could take their arm and ask them to walk me to my room.”
“Excellent.”
“Shall we try it today?”
“I don’t think I have anything new to tell Mr. Merrick, but we can go downstairs and see if there is anything of pertinence afoot.”
Aunt Agnes took a deep breath and lifted her shoulders. “Let us go.”
Felicity felt refreshed after a fifteen-minute nap. With Aunt Agnes by her side, they prepared to leave their room.
Felicity warned her aunt, “You can trust Mr. Merrick, but we must not expect him to protect us. He has a very important job to do, and he cannot jeopardize it, even to save us from harm.” Her voice hitched, but she played it off by clearing her throat. “We must be extremely careful not to inadvertently betray him.”
Auntie’s eyes were wide, but then she lowered her brows and pursed her lips. “I understand.”
Once downstairs, they wandered past the billiard room, and, hearing voices inside, they strolled past it a second time. Felicity saw Mr. Ratley and Mr. Merrick, but thankfully Mr. Ratley’s back was to the doorway.
Felicity led Aunt Agnes to the sitting room that was adjacent to the billiard room.
Aunt Agnes found a book and began to read, then whispered to Felicity, “No one will suspect me. They think all I do is read.” She gave Felicity a wink.
“You are very clever, Auntie.” Felicity winked back.
Felicity took up her embroidery while Aunt Agnes read her book. Finally, she heard footsteps. She peeked from where she sat, trying to make herself as small as possible. Mr. Ratley walked by, whistling softly.
A minute or two later, Mr. Merrick was walking by when Felicity said, rather loudly, “The clouds have become very threatening. What do you think, Auntie?” Her breath stuck in her throat. Why had she said that? She had nothing of importance to tell Mr. Merrick. But the thought of seeing him privately, talking with him in their secret meeting place, made her heart race.
Mr. Merrick paused and entered the room. “Miss Mayson. Miss Appleby.” He walked to the window and looked out. “I believe you are correct, Miss Mayson. The sky does look rather like rain.”
“Yes,” Felicity said. “I believe it may rain any minute now.”
“Yes, well, good afternoon.” He nodded to them and left the room.
“That was rather abrupt, wasn’t it?” Auntie whispered.
“‘Sky’ and ‘clouds’ are our signal. He has gone to the library,” Felicity whispered back.
“Oh!” Auntie closed her book and stood.
“We must wait a minute or two,” Felicity warned.
Aunt Agnes sat back down and opened her book again.
After a few more moments, Felicity motioned to her aunt to follow her, and they went to the library.
Inside they started browsing the shelves—or pretending to. Felicity’s breath grew shallow the closer they wandered to the door where Mr. Merrick would be waiting. How foolish of her. He did not care for her, and how could she form an attachment to him when she was engaged to someone else? It was indecent.
But still her heart raced as she remembered the last time they had been alone, in the shed where he had sabotaged the printing press, when he had held her, a strong arm around her waist, and kept her from falling, his face just inches from hers.
Aunt Agnes was near the library entrance while Felicity opened the door and went inside.
Mr. Merrick looked up from the open book he was holding.
“Were you able to put the papers back while I was talking with Lady Blackstone?” Felicity said softly.
“No, unfortunately.”
She rushed on. “I only have ten days. Mr. Ratley wanted to marry me at the end of this week, but I convinced Lady Blackstone to have him postpone it a few more days. But I only have ten days before the wedding.”
He nodded slowly. “Mr. Ratley prevented me from returning the papers to Lady Blackstone’s room and asked me to play a game of billiards with him. I did manage to convince him that he should not be upset about the fact that you wish for a longer engagement.”
“Oh. That is most kind of you.” Felicity’s breath seemed to come faster. He must be concerned for her if he spoke to Mr. Ratley about postponing their marriage. Of course, she was his ally as they worked to thwart these revolutionaries, but did he feel more for her?
She was being silly. She should concentrate on the business at hand.
“Lady Blackstone is suspicious about the printing press breaking. She even asked me if I knew anything about it.”
“Does she suspect you?”
“I don’t know. But she was suspicious that someone may have broken it, and she mentioned that you and I were the only ones not helping store the weapons.”
Mr. Merrick’s brows lowered and his jaw flexed.
Felicity took a deep breath and said, “Mr. Merrick, you should leave. Escape this place. You have the papers with the information you need to capture all the leaders and confiscate their stockpiles of weapons. You can give me the key to Lady Blackstone’s room, and I can return her papers.”
His blue eyes stared intently into hers while she spoke, then he shook his head. “I don’t want to leave you here. There is no way to know if they would spare you should they discover you were working against them. Besides, if we act too quickly, we might not discover all their plans. New leaders can rise up to take the place of the old ones. We need to find out every person involved.”
“You can do that. After you leave, you and the Home Secretary—Lord Sidmouth, I believe?—can investigate the places and men in Lady Blackstone’s papers.”
“I suppose that is true. But . . . what about you and Miss Appleby?”
“I don’t think they would kill us. They don’t see us as a threat.” She remembered Lady Blackstone’s comments about Felicity being meek and quiet. “Besides, they believe I will marry Mr. Ratley and will be forever tied to them, unable to testify against my own husband.”
The crease in Mr. Merrick’s forehead deepened. “I can use my sick mother as an excuse to leave. But . . . I want to put the papers back before I go.”
“I can help you. You could give me the key, and I can pretend to be sick at dinner tonight. I can go upstairs and put the papers back in her room.”
“I don’t like that plan. I don’t want to endanger you.”
“It is not so dangerous for me. And there is so much at stake. You must get that information back to your superiors.”
“I hate to think of leaving you amongst these people.” A muscle in his cheek twitched. He leaned down, staring into her eyes, then took her hand in his.
Felicity’s heart beat hard and fast. “I shall be well. Just . . . say a little prayer for me.” She smiled, hoping she looked brave.
“Yes, I will pray for you. Nothing is too hard for God, and I shall have to trust Him to watch over you.”
Her heart skipped several beats at the gentle look on his face.
The door suddenly opened. Mr. Merrick let go of her hand. Josephine Cartwright stood in the doorway, her eyes wide and her mouth agape.