Phillip had heard back
from France. The report of the activities of the boys had initially
not surprised him, but the accurate description of the woman and man
who were asleep in the safe house on the day of their disappearance
(including a rough sketch) had utterly confused him.
He had accused Melissa
of being with Paul both in his attitude and treatment towards her and
the thoughts in his head and initially the information that he held
confirmed this belief, before the impossibility of the situation had
occurred to him.
He read the documents
through several times and flicked back and forth between them. At the
end of the day he took the papers home with them and continued
perusing them over and over before the fire. There were five sides of
fine handwriting and the sketch, but the reading and re-reading kept
him occupied for hours.
Finally dropping the
pages, he stared into the fire over steepled fingers and tried to
calculate the possibilities. He'd already known of a double of the
young man who died. Discovering the disappearance of the captive and
the bewildering presence of another dead ringer for Melissa would
have led him to suppose some impossible set of circumstances where a
pair of twins were working both sides of the Napoleonic wars. The
presence of Paul's doppelgänger in a situation where, as far as all
information indicated, he was a chance newcomer to the web of
intrigue in which Melissa had enmeshed herself, made it even less
likely.
Now he was focussed on
calculating the most direct and rapid paths between the two known
points of Melissa and her companion. His best, most optimistic
results still insisted it was impossible for her to have reached that
place in France from her exit to the balcony at the ball, even if
everything had been meticulously arranged to fall in her favour. From
the description supplied, she had been on horseback for at least a
part of the journey.
His other concern, of
course, was why she had been there in the first place? What could she
possibly have achieved by following her “boys” to France? She
merely arrived, sent them on their way and then departed herself.
Beyond that, the
multitude of mysterious disappearances were a little too much for
him. Firstly, she disappeared from London society, as had Paul. Then,
the French prisoner had disappeared within a day of the doppelgänger
being witnessed at the safe house. Then, both Michael and James who
had been witnessed communicating with the prisoner had disappeared
temporarily and reappeared near the coast, inexplicably quickly and
without being witnessed passing along any of the major routes.
Of the possible
solutions he thought of, one involved a massive conspiracy of look a
likes, and the other suggested some new method of travelling at
extremely high speed without being witnessed, the high speed travel
seemed more logical. But even so, why was her presence necessary?
They'd kept tabs on Michael and James their entire way to the safe
house and a good part of the return journey had been witnessed. If
she was able to move people quickly, why were they travelling so
slowly?
He went back and forth
for hours in his mind until at last he gave up. He slept dreamlessly
and returned to work the next day to place the bewildering
information in front of his superiors without suggestion or
explanation. All, bar one, were sufficiently intelligent to calculate
for themselves the impossibility of what was suggested by the
evidence and all, like he, had been silenced whilst they tried to
resolve the problem.
Only one, Lord
Wellsley, was moved to pull him to one side and ask in undertones if
this travel was a possible reason for the lady's belief that the man
must be rescued and not assassinated. Phillip had considered this
option too, but he still couldn't resolve the point of her presence.
It was, surprisingly, the one member of Staff who had needed the data
points explained to him in great detail to understand why they eren't
immediately arresting the mystery woman as a suspected spy who gave
them the clue.
Among his many
questions was one that no-one else thought of. “These whelps were
seen giving the Frenchie prisoner something! Well, what was it? They
collected nothing on the journey, so either the woman gave it to
them, or they had it all along. We saw everything of theirs. What was
it they gave him?”
Phillip had been
looking out of the window trying to mask his irritation when this
speech began and the man was almost two thirds of the way through it
before he realised the importance of it. At this point his head
turned slowly almost of it's own accord and his jaw dropped as he
observed the bloated, reddened features that topped the person of a
man who was only on the staff because he was one of the Prince
Regent's closest friends.
All other heads in the
room turned to Phillip. He recovered from his stupefaction and turned
to the gentleman in charge who had no need to wait for his request
and merely waved him out of the room with an instruction to prepare a
full report when his investigation was completed. In Phillip's
absence the other gentlemen gradually disbanded.
Phillip himself had
dived out of the government offices and made his way to Melissa's
home in some haste. He arrived on her doorstep at the same time as
Sir Francis Carlisle and the two gentlemen spent the next half hour
civilly indicating to the other that they would each appreciate it if
they could have some time to speak to the lady in private. Melissa
was oblivious to both men's attitudes. She had been anticipating
Phillip's visit and now it came, it was something of an anticlimax.
Sir Francis was everything she had expected; urbane, charming,
flirtatious and still devilishly attractive, but Phillip was utterly
unfathomable. There was nothing in his attitude to suggest any of
their historical friction and nothing to give her the impression
that he may have changed his mind about her or have any personal
interest. Instead he was detached and … not in any way above his
company or supercilious, but certainly abstracted. His comments were
witty and relevant but his eyes were abstracted and: having felt the
focus those unfathomable depths could bring to bear upon her, she
felt the absence of that stare now.
After the half hour
prescribed by social dictates, both men took their leave. Phillip
returned within fifteen minutes and she could not prevent the
welcoming smile when she saw him again.
He repsonded by bowing
with grace over her hand and returned to the seat he had occupied in
his vist a few minutes earlier. He suavely apologised for his
unexpected return but had forgotten a personal belonging he wished to
retrieve. She smiled and accepted the excuse that they had both known
to be utterly fabricated. She waited for his follow up and then, when
it came, was stunned.
He smoothly described
the story of the recent occurrences in France exactly as he knew it
had happened. Those points he was unsure of, he didn't refer to and
instead glossed over them. He was very clear on one point; he
identified the female as her with absolute certainty and calm and
built the whole story referring to her.
“On this date, your
friends sailed for France. They arrived two days later and travelled
to my safe house where they remained. You attended a ball in the
Peterborough's house, at which you and I spoke. After a discussion on
the balcony with another young friend, you and he left hastily. You
met up with your friends in my safe house two days later and gave
them something to deliver to the prisoner who my men were attempting
to assassinate. They delivered it while you remained at the safe
house. Later you returned to England and your young companions
returned to the yacht and sailed back to England; your friends
finally arrived back here two days ago and you have since seen them.”
When his tale was told,
he leaned back in his chair and looked at her. She paused, unsure of
his point, then enquired: “And what is it you want to know?”
“What did you take
them?”
“I'm not telling you
that.”
“Ah.”
“Ah?”
He smiled. There was
silence and he watched her for a few minutes as she realised she had
made a mistake but was unable to identify exactly what it was.
Eventually she gave up, dropped her chin into her hand and rested for
a moment before observing him and asking quite frankly, what her
mistake had been.
He retained his smile
but it became a touch less satisfied and a touch more respectful. He
pointed out to her the impossibility of her travel times by any means
known to the government and its agencies. All he'd had to do, he
pointed out, was get her confirmation that she had been in the places
he had supposed her to be. She flushed slightly and remained silent.
“What was it? The
object that you realised they needed and travelled to France for?”
Her silence continued.
She wasn't sulking or negative, simply silent. Her reluctance to
confide in him wasn't resentful, it was simply the difficulty
inherent in telling the truth without surrendering the device for the
English government to take as their own. They now knew for sure that
she had a means of travelling that would move her rapidly across the
country but, thanks to the various faffing around in towns and cities
they didn't know it was instantaneous travel. She needed some time to
seek advice on realistic time travel estimates, so she could
establish how far from reality her journeys were.
The chance that she
would be allowed to do that was miniscule to say the least. Phillip
would not give her the time or space to regroup, he knew the best way
to get the truth was to prevent her from speaking about anything
else. She had to either think fast, stall him, or distract him.
Possibly all of the above.
She rose and paced
around the room gazing into the fire. She sought answers in the
flickering flames as had become her habit and found none. There was
never an answer there, but the rhythmic flickering spoke to something
primeval within her and she found it soothing none the less. She
braced her arms against the mantlepiece and felt the tension drain
out of her.
He rose and walked over
to her. The relaxation of her shoulders had not passed his attention
and he read it as surrender; prompting him to move alongside her and
speak in low, urgent tones close to her ear. Sadly for his
intentions: that was one of her most sensitive spots and she felt his
voice vibrating through her into the core of her being. Startled by
the sudden intimacy she turned her face gradually towards his. Her
eyes were naturally on a level with his jawline and she raided her
eyes up to his. They stood in a frozen tableau for two seconds that
seemed to stretch into eternity before her eyes dropped to her lips
and then she moved forwards to kiss him.
