Chapter 40 Part 2: Semper Occultus...
"Don't kill me," Mina whispered while clutching her makeshift weapon.
Marco started to mouth profanities but ceased prematurely. Instead, he attempted to fling open the armoire door but Mina grabbed it and squatted further back into the darkness of Marco's shadow.
"What are you doing?" Marco whispered.
"He can't know I'm here," she hissed quietly.
"He? You mean Jacob, why?" Marco probed softly, to which Mina just shook her head rapidly.
The Captain levelled his best glare at her and she scowled in return. "Argh," Mina blew the hair out of her face exasperated. "Why is he here anyway?"
"Well, it is a public gallery, Mina. Anyone can come here to shoot, except for the first floor that is and I suspect that you know why."
"Fine," Mina huffed. "But I'm not happy about it!"
"So, your resolution is to sit here in a cupboard?" Marco raised an eyebrow that must have been tiring from its constant use.
Mina ignored his attempt to bait her and considered her predicament with consternation. "Just say I'm a messenger delivering this missive. It was what I was supposed to do anyway... before I saw him." She pushed a piece of paper into his hand hastily. "Don't talk to me anymore, he's going to know I'm here!" Mina added with a scowl as she attempted to shoo him away, like a fly over Sunday lunch.
Marco gave her an incredulous look. "The man is not an imbecile. I doubt he thinks that I'm having a conversation with a cupboard. But, relax, he will not be able to see you from this position."
"Well, just don't tell him who I am. It's official business. I'm just meant to pass on this letter to you. They gave it to me downstairs, when I was reporting for duty with Dra'gaan, and told me to come upstairs. If you can take it and get him to leave, then I will climb out and go back to work," Mina proposed.
"You and I are going to need to talk about finding you a better occupation," Marco smirked, leaning on the edge of the door as he pocketed the envelope.
"I have a perfectly good job in the Bexley kitchens, thank you very much," Mina barked. She bit her lip immediately, knowing that she had faltered in her defence and finally revealed the location of her employment. She immediately blamed the Duke of Wyvernstone for scattering her wits, even though he was several feet away in the next room.
Marco's eyes flashed in the limited light. "Ah, I should have known. Inside the home of Jacob's closest friend. So, perhaps it is not simply that the Duke of Wyvernstone must not see you today, it is that he has seen you before. But, the question remains... how much of you has he seen?"
Mina inhaled sharply at the insinuation and she clenched her fist around filigree pewter to resist punching the grin off of the Captain's smug face. "Ugh! You are lucky I don't punch you. Some girls would not hesitate to slap you for besmirching their character."
"Well," Marco leaned in with a mischievous smile. "If those girls were in this cupboard with you, perhaps I would have a fight on my hands. However, I see that you are in better control of your faculties. Which is fortunate because I am currently the only way out of your present bind. Now, give me that letter, child, and when I close the inter-leading door you may leave the way you came."
"I'm not a child," Mina growled.
"No, of course you are not. Now, get back into your cupboard," Marco finished with a smirk.
A low grumble resonated in the tiny space.
"Be at ease, Mina. I will not betray your secret. Who better to keep sordid stories than a Spanish man?" With that he closed the door and returned promptly to the gallery.
Jay stood with both weapons rested, but ready, at his sides. "What is it?" he questioned with a resonance of displeasure. It was not in his nature to leave another to conduct an investigation while he sat idly by. Surely it defied Universal Laws, such as gravity. Nevertheless, circumstance has thrown them together and nothing stood to be gained without a little trust.
"We scared a servant, apparently. The poor boy was sent up to bring me a message but it seems his stomach was not made to bear witness to violence. Although, I'd like to think that the inadequacy of your swordplay made him ill." Marco chuckled. "Either way, he took refuge in an armoire."
Jay frowned. "That seems unlikely."
"And yet, it is the truth. He is probably still in the cupboard if you wish to check," Marco laughed amused.
"That is very odd." Jay repeated, unconvinced.
"And odder still that anyone knew where to find me in order to deliver this," Marco noted as he withdrew the envelope from his inner pocket and slit the opening with his navaja. "No one knows my current whereabouts, although I have been staying at the Bexley House and perhaps the staff there are just that good. The Duchess seems to run a tight ship in all things." The Captain gauged his words as his new comrade became uncommonly silent and he swiftly contrived to enjoy the game for a little longer.
"In fact, one night I was particularly hungry in the early morning hours and happened upon several very accommodating females," Marco lied glibly as he tapped the unopened letter against the flat of his palm.
"Are you going to leave that messenger in the cupboard?" Jay redirected the flow of conversation.
"He has likely left by now, no doubt more silently than he arrived," Marco shrugged calmly before continuing in the next breath. "I had not the pleasure of meeting your ward whom I understand is staying with the Duchess of Bexley, but I did meet one of their servants."
A muscle in Jay's jaw twitched, then lay still.
"Mina, I believe her name was. Brown hair, brown eyes, huge fascination with food. You visit the Bexley House quite often, have you met the creature?"
Jay clenched his fist and put down his pistol cautiously. "I am not privy to every maid in the Bexley household, but I think I remember the woman you speak of." He paused for a long moment, not wishing to utter his next syllables but unable to resist. "What interest do you have with her?"
"Several interests, and each one more sinful than the next." Marco hedged his bets and raised a cocky brow.
Jay felt a warrior's rage rise within and he looked upon the man before him through a haze of fury. Instinct and primal purpose suffused the calm and rational body of the duke and he slammed the Captain's back against the wall heaving ragged breaths torn from a throat parched with fire. The flat of Jay's sword rested against Marco's throat before he could halt its motion and yet above its slender steel was the amused juxtaposition of the Spaniard's eyes.
Marco blocked the hilt against his wrist, causing the letter he had been holding to protrude from the clutch of his hand. Jay's gaze was drawn to the wax imprint of the Secret Service upon the envelope and then to his code name scrawled on the edge of the paper poking out from within. It was in handwriting he now knew as well as his own.
Since the ball, Verushka had taken to leaving him daily notes tucked under the edge of his plate at Wyvernstone Hall or delivered with his morning mail in London. It was mostly babble, gibberish even, as she updated him on her cat Shadow or wished him a pleasant day. He had no desire for progress reports on a cat who shed hair through every floor of his country manor and yet in the short time he had become accustomed to the slope of her script and regularity of her conversation. He wondered if she could have slipped into any family as well as his own. He could not deny that she had a knack of making everyone, from the maids to the matrons, love her. Her letters were not just a frequent reminder that they were now family, however false, but that he was no longer alone in a family where loneliness seemed to be a prerequisite. And yet, never in all those letters, had she ever marked her correspondence with the insignia of the institution to which they both subscribed.
Jay released his grip and his sword clattered to the floor. "You are mistaken. That letter is for me."
Marco turned the paper over, caught sight of the waxen emblem, and thrust it into the Duke's waiting hands.
Jay ripped open the rest of the seal and expeditiously analysed the contents within. There was a letter in Verushka's hand and a torn excerpt from the days' Court Circular.
Agent Zay
Edward Oxford is conspiring against the Queen with James Hadfield. I believe that he intends to assassinate her at 6 o'clock in the afternoon during her airing with Prince Albert. Oxford is approximately twenty years of age and of short height and average weight with bushy eyebrows, a small mouth and dark brown hair. He is in possession of two loaded pistols. If at all possible, stop Her Majesty from leaving Buckingham, and if not, then I will attempt to meet you at Hyde Park. I leave Vauxhall now on foot. No one else knows of this.
Be safe,
Agent Kat
She had given herself a code name. It was a concerning development, however it was a matter which he would resolve later. For now, Jay determined that he had more important problems to address.
"We have a situation. Her Majesty is in danger," Jay informed Marco with solemn resilience.
"When is she not?" Marco commented blithely but his body was poised for action.
Jay handed the letter to him and turned to the weapons on the wall. He began strapping pistols to his boots, filling his pockets with sachets of powder and concealing daggers along the length of his calves.
Marco quickly apprised himself of the contents and snapped to attention. "You are headed to Hyde, and so I shall follow," he resolved as he folded the letter once more and slid the nearest rapier into his scabbard.
"No." Jay tightened the last strap of his boot cuff and seized upon a table bearing writing implements in the corner. "You will go to Hyde Park first. And as you leave you will send these copies out by Her Majesty's Secret Service messengers downstairs. One to Buckingham, one to the Duchess, and one to my Governor for the Home Office. I need you to provide a diversion when I arrive, if all else fails. My identity, as with all the Agents must remain a secret."
"Where will you be going first?" There is precious little time, barely one hour to find and secure the assassin. I hardly think that you have a more pressing matter to attend," Marco insisted while flinging a rifle strap across his back. Jay had managed to conceal every weapon beneath a carefully pressed suit, but there was no need for to him to play the duke. He could go in with guns blazing, and that was exactly how he preferred to arrive.
Jay grasped the door handle with a force that implied his actions were not available for discussion. "I am going to collect Agent Kat."
The wood reverberated in its hinges and Marco was left alone to pilfer the galley as he saw fit. He understood the need to collect the other Agent since she was the only person who could accurately identify the assassin. However, he was not entirely certain that he would have made the same decision, had it been his prerogative to do so. The Agent could be anywhere between Southbank and Westminster, depending on which route out of several dozen they chose to take. And, surely any Agent under the charge of the Duchess of Bexley could take care of themselves.
Instead of concerning himself with what seemed to be futile matters, Marco finished anchoring his weapons in place and collected the letters into his inner breast pocket.
Time to save the Queen. He sighed under the familiar weight of his weaponry and shut the door behind him.
While descending the stairs Marco remembered an excellent percussion rampart rifle that he had spied in the first floor gallery. He ducked his head into the room and noted only a single slight occupant pouring fresh gun powder with the protection of a face cloth. He strode forth and selected his desired weapon, crossing it over the other on his back. As he did so, a troublesome thought lingered at his line of sight and he took one more moment to assess the other male in the room. Marco was perhaps not the most skilled soldier in the selective art of observation but one thing that he was well versed in was the female form. The other shooters trousers were certainly too well sculpted to be masculine, the coat too large around the shoulders, and if that wasn't enough to draw suspicion, the obvious girl began to shoot still wearing a cloth about her face. On the upside she appeared to be an adequate shot.
For the second time, Marco heaved a great breath and walked swiftly to Mina's side. "Your disguise is puerile and frankly demeaning."
"I don't know what you mean, Sir," Mina attempted subterfuge in the face of failure.
Marco simply raised a brow.
"Fine!" Mina cried, tearing the mask from her face. "I was just getting in a little bit more practice since Dra'gaan is late. What do you want?"
"You. Come with me," Marco ordered and hastily showed her the letter that Jay had received.
Mina read over the letter once, twice and then again. She was never the quickest reader in the world but she could hardly believe her eyes. "Wait." She grabbed for the Captain's starched sleeve as he began to pull her onwards. "I think I know this man."
"What?" Marco barked louder than he had intended. "How on earth cou-."
"I just saw him, here," Mina cut him off. "He was in this gallery at about three o'clock this afternoon."
"And how do you know it was Edward Oxford?" Marco towered over the maid in his interrogation.
"I don't know for certain, I guess." Mina cast her eyes downward so she could avoid straining her neck to look up. "But a man named Edward was practicing his marksmanship when I came in here before I delivered you your letter. He seemed keen to talk about how today was a really important day for him, but I couldn't really respond with my mask over my face."
"And did he look the same as in the description?" Marco asked briskly.
"It is a vague description but, yes. I think so," Mina nodded
"When did he leave? Do you recall the time?" Marco fired questions at her as furiously as bullets.
"I think it must have been over an hour ago. I'm sorry. I can't believe I was alone in a room with the assassin. I should have known. There was something so unsettling about him. He didn't sound like the other French assassin we found with Bianca. He sounded hard, cold and very determined. I didn't really want to be near him, and I was stupidly more concerned with maintaining my own disguise." Mina ignored the turning of her stomach. It was far easier to pretend it grumbled from famine rather than the nausea of near death.
"You have nothing to be sorry for." Marco gruffly patted her arm as if he wasn't sure how to display the correct level of emotion to soothe an anxious female.
"That may be, but I want to see this day through without any regrets. Hyde Park is always filled with ton at this time, not to mention all the other commoners trying to get a glimpse of Her Majesty. It's not going to be easy." Mina handed back the letter with a frown.
"That is why you are coming with me. You have proven yourself helpful in your knowledge of this city and are quick on your feet. Moreover, a second pair of eyes can go a long way. Now let us go- Wait, what are you doing?" Marco halted Mina as she reached eagerly to a display of several rifles.
"I'm getting prepared." Mina asserted self-righteously. "There was never any doubt that I would be coming."
"Yes, but you are not weaponising your tiny, unpredictable body."
"Oh, come on!" Mina whined. "If things get out of control I'm going to need one and-."
Marco held up a hand to silence her, knowing that this discussion would not end quickly or well if she was allowed to persist. "Fine, take this."
Marco handed Mina a small Derringer pocket pistol, easily concealable in the folds of her voluminous coat. She looked upon his offering as if it were the carcass of a three day old dead fish.
"It is this or nothing," he responded sardonically. "You are supposed to be incognito."
Mina grabbed at the gun quickly and shoved it into her threadbare pocket. "Alright, let's go. I know a shortcut."
"I have one last question." Marco halted at the top of the stairs. "This Edward Oxford, was he a good shot?"
Mina had no difficulty providing the answer. The man had even shot a wooden target with an uncanny, mirthful vengeance. "Excellent."
Marco acknowledged her response with a single nod and headed down the last set of stairs. He quickly handed over Jay's letters to the ground floor Agents, as well as a note to charge any missing weapons to the Duke of Wyvernstone. They made it as far as the adjacent stables when he felt a persistent annoying tap on his shoulder.
"What is it, Mina?"
"Um, I can't ride." She twisted her lips apologetically.
Inches from the fastest steed in all of Europe, Marco released the reins of Tornado as if the very act gave him pain and swiftly commandeered the nearest English thoroughbred from a returning messenger.
"Since you cannot ride alone, I must carry you, and Tornado carries no one but myself. Now, get on!" Marco scowled in frustration.
"Um," Mina coiled the fringes of her coat and eyed the horse as if it were a rather stocky tree that required climbing. She grabbed onto the stirrup and wedged her foot over the tackle to swat ineffectually at the pommel. The stocky tree moved and she swung unsuccessfully beneath its belly.
"ARGH!" Marco finally lost his patience. He flung the maid aboard the gelding and kicked his heels in, leaving Leicester Square in the dust. He aimed for far more aristocratic abodes as he tore up Pall Mall and turned north at Mina's direction. The hooves of his borrowed horse were flying inches above the ground, carrying them through the Green Park Arch and into the southern tip of Hyde Park.
A small group of ton lingered at the gate and Marco spied the Duchess of Bexley in amongst the rest. She maintained her usual poise in the face of adversity, wearing an afternoon gown of forest green and an expression of mild concern. In contrast, the shocked gazes of several members of the peerage fed the assumption that the visage of a Spanish Captain laden with weapons was not a reassuring one. No one noticed Mina's tiny form tucked behind him and he dismounted her swiftly with one arm. "Tell the Duchess of Bexley. Do it now. Follow the crowds and find me after," he whispered hastily just before her feet hit the ground.
Mina fell upon the gravel and dashed out of the way of the rearing hooves of a horse who had recently discovered the feel of freedom. She watched the Captain lean forward in his saddle and lay waste to the softly padded track of Rotten Row. Young women with their gently led ponies scattered in several directions before he veered north and Mina lost sight of his red uniform beneath the canopied trees.
Mina rationalised that slipping into a crowd of the ton to carry a message could not be any more difficult than slipping out with pilfered items in her pockets. With a burgeoning plan, she left the dirt on her face and clothes and approached the group of aging gentlewomen with an open palm and a cockney lilt. "Spare change milady, spare change. Feed a starvin' mouth." The prudish ladies scattered to the winds as she had expected- except for one. The Duchess reached into her silken reticule and beckoned the would-be-beggar closer.
"Tell me child, what can I do for you?"
Mina raised her eyes to her employer. "I know who you really are."
"Of course you do," the Duchess smiled congenially. "Verushka is a terrible secret-keeper for someone who is a spy. Not to mention my husband says that you play an excellent game of chess. Why come flying on the Captain's horse to tell me so?"
"We need your help, Your Grace. The assassin is here. Marco received a letter that a man named Edward Oxford plans to shoot the Queen during the ride today. He has gone to find him," Mina explained in brisk fashion.
A hooded look came over the older woman's eyes and she extracted a ring from her right hand, placing it in Mina's. "The Captain is at best creating a sufficient distraction to allow my Agents to fall into place. At worst his bullet will find the heart of the assassin in a very public way and Her Majesty may die regardless. Give this ring to the Division A Guards stationed at the north-east corner of Green Park. Although the official Bow Street Runners have been dissolved, these men used to be part of their ranks and now represent out last secret stronghold in Scotland Yard. They will come when they are called."
Mina swallowed, her throat dry with fear roasted in anticipation. She pocketed the ring and heard it clank against the barrel of the gun, a metallic reminder of the danger of her mission.
"One more thing, Mina," the Duchess leaned in purposefully, her voice as harsh as grated gravel.
"Run."
~
If you liked it- VOTE!
Want another chapter- VOTE!
Secretly hot for a Duke- VOTE! ........ hehehe
A/N: Hello dear Agents! How's this for a quicker update? We are closing in on the end and I hope I have managed to get you all on the edge of your seats ;)
Sorry to disappoint those of you who were hoping to find Liara in the cupboard. You will have to wait for Book 3 before their love story really blossoms, but anticipation often makes the greatest love stories. <3
I always love to hear your thoughts and many of your were not happy with the book summary. After some deliberation I have now changed it and would like to know if you think it is a better snapshot than before. Also, does anyone want to place bets on who gets to the Queen first? Mina? Verushka? Liara? Jay? Marco? Cain?... or maybe someone else.
Glossary:
Green Park Arch: Green Park Arch was initially designed in 1828 to form an outer entrance to Buckingham Palace which is where Marco rides past it. In 1882–3 the arch was moved a short distance to its present location on Hyde Park Corner to facilitate a road widening scheme and was renamed the Wellington Arch for the statue of the Duke of Wellington on top of it. The arch forms the junction between two royal parks, Green Park to the south-east and Hyde Park to the north-west.
Division A: While Scotland Yard is now associated with the detective branch of the Metropolitan Police, in 1840 there was none. After the dissolution of the Bow Street Runners in 1839, Division A was considered a special force which contained ex-runners. Officially they provided protection for the royal family and Buckingham Palace. Unofficially they were the undercover investigative team for the Police. Division A station house stood between Parliament and Whitehall on Gardiner Street. This being on the other side of St James's Park, the Duchess couldn't send Mina there, and chose the next best option where the closest members would be stationed.
Navaja: The navaja is a traditional Spanish folding-blade fighting and utility knife. The first true navajas originated in the Andalusian region of southern Spain. In Spain, the term navaja is often used to generally describe all folding-blade knives.
Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: Truyen247.Pro