Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
A few weeks ago, Sol had briefly explained to Laura about the Quiet Ones in the Ramparts—agents whose true identities were only known to the senior agent in charge of the department. Until recently that had been Sir Derrick.
He still felt a pang in his chest, as if a hammer had struck his breastbone, every time he remembered that Sir Derrick was now dead.
“She is one of the Quiet Ones?” Laura asked. “Like Lady Aymer?”
“And Mr. Verling.”
He couldn’t see her raise an eyebrow at him, but he could hear it in her voice as she said, “Are there so very many Quiet Ones that you know of three of them?”
“I knew of Lady Aymer merely by accident—a report I was not intended to read was placed on my desk by mistake. As for Mr. Verling, I once heard Sir Derrick refer to him as one of the Nameless Ones, which is the name given by the Foreign Office for their agents with the highest levels of security.”
“And you knew about Ruby because Sir Derrick had sent you to speak to her about Lord Polock,” Laura said flatly. “Why did you have her kill him? Why would you force her to do something like that?” Anger had crept into her voice.
“Laura, Ruby had gone to the Senhora because she had discovered that Lord Polock was selling copies of confidential dispatches to the French.”
He heard her intake of breath, and the distant lamplight gleamed in her eyes as she stared at him.
Sol continued, “The Senhora’s business is hardly sanctioned, but Ruby knew that she had the ear of at least one member of the government, and the Senhora would not keep a connection she found untrustworthy. The Senhora brought her into contact with Sir Derrick, who sent me to speak to her.”
“When was this?”
He fought the urge to sigh. “Eight years ago.”
“Eight years?” she hissed at him. It would have been only two years and a few months after Laura began looking for her.
“At the time, she looked vaguely familiar,” Sol said heavily, “but she did not appear to recognize me.”
Laura hesitated and stared downward, parsing through her memories. “She might have met you once, the year before Wynwood died, but she would have still been in the schoolroom.”
Sol nodded, even though he knew Laura could not see his head very well in the darkness.
When he had gone to Ruby to ask her to harbor them, only then had he revealed that he knew her true identity.
She had been unsurprised, and he guessed that when he first met her, she recognized him from when she had met him once as a young girl.
Sol had been astonished that he had not perceived—even for an instant—that she had known him from the beginning and had carefully hidden it.
“Ruby gave me the evidence against Lord Polock,” Sol said, “but she knew that were it to become public, the scandal would be devastating within the Foreign Office, since he had been involved in several victorious campaigns. She also suspected that there might be others within the Home Office who worked with Lord Polock. It was her suggestion that she attempt to discover their names from her protector.”
“She entered into the service of the Ramparts of her own initiative?” Laura’s voice was equal parts horror and amazement.
“I tried to dissuade her, but she insisted. And she found their names, Laura. She coaxed them out of Lord Polock.” There were agents like le petit prince who donned disguises to investigate certain personages, who overheard conversations and rifled through desks and files to find hidden information.
But it had been many decades since the Ramparts had had an agent with the skill of Miss Ruby Nealle, who had been able to compel a man to reveal the names of his traitorous companions.
Laura was silent for a long time before she finally asked, “How could the government have ordered his assassination?”
Sol shifted uncomfortably. “The government did not do so. Not officially. But if Lord Polock had been arrested, the evidence would expose intelligence methods and spies active overseas. The Ramparts—the department head, Sir Derrick, was able to act under a standing discretionary authority in matters of national survival. There was no written order, but it was determined that the Crown could not endure his continued existence.”
“But was it necessary for Ruby to be the one to kill him?” Laura persisted.
“I was against it,” Sol confessed. “But she insisted that it was her duty as an Englishwoman. Ruby could have found a more powerful protector and cast off Lord Polock, but she remained with him in order to discover those names for us. She knew that it would be far easier for her to kill him than for the Ramparts to send an agent to do so, and so once she heard that he was to be eliminated, she accomplished the deed herself and informed Sir Derrick after the fact, forcing the Ramparts to cover up the poison she had used. She knew that the department would not allow her to be arrested.”
Laura was speechless for a moment, then her hand reached out, fumbling in the dark until it grasped his sleeve. He could feel her trembling. “She did that, Sol?”
“She did. And then she asked Sir Derrick the names of any other men suspected of treason, so that she might become acquainted with them.”
Laura’s hand fell away from his arm. “Has she always worked for the Ramparts since then?”
“Not always. It would be suspicious if all her paramours were killed or imprisoned. But when she heard rumors, she would seek out those men and investigate, and then report back to us.”
“Ruby’s current protector,” Laura said, her voice suddenly harder and sharper, “is he also under investigation? Sol, please tell me you did not bring us into the house of a suspected traitor, or even worse, a possible associate of the Citadel.”
“No, Lord Treme has no affection for France, nor is he connected to the Citadel, as far as we know. When Ruby’s last protector was—ahem—retired to the country for his ill health, Ruby was free to choose whomever of her entourage she preferred.”
“She does not appear to have much fondness for him,” Laura said, sounding faintly accusing.
“Lord Treme has deep pockets.” In truth, Sol did not know why Ruby had chosen this particular man as her next lover. She could have also remained alone for a time, until she felt the need to become companion to another, or until the Ramparts gave her another target toward whom to aim her wiles.
“So she is forced to rely on the riches of strange men in order to survive,” Laura said bitterly, “when I could have taken her in years ago. Why did you not tell me, Sol? Once you realized that this Ambrosia was in fact my Ruby, why did you not tell me?” Her anger blossomed, but mindful of Ruby’s company downstairs, she forced her words into a sibilant hiss rather than raising her voice.
Sol knew that she wanted to shout at him loud enough to make the ceilings rattle.
“I felt it was best for the mission,” he mumbled, feeling awkward.
He felt her anger radiating from her even in the dark, but now it froze like a lake in winter. “Do not lie to me, Sol,” she ground out.
He always seemed to forget she possessed the ability to read the lies in people’s faces and bodies.
He was even more amazed now, for she had been able to catch him in a falsehood even though she could barely see his figure in the faint lamplight.
Perhaps it was because she had spent so long hiding her ability from others, and so hiding it from Sol was child’s play to her.
But he did not wish to tell her the truth, not because he felt he needed to keep the secrets of the Ramparts, but because he knew the truth would cut her as deeply as a sword to the heart.
Sol simply shook his head, looking at the ground.
“Did she ask you not to tell me?” Laura asked.
Sol tried not to jerk in surprise at how close to the mark she had gotten.
Laura shook her head, ruminating over the matter.
“No, you said that she was unaware that you had recognized her. Did Sir Derrick order you? While he had the authority to do so, somehow I doubt he would take that course of action, not after considering the little I know about him and his wife from society events.”
“Perhaps you did not know him as well as you believe you did,” Sol said, although his words were more like a play of desperation.
“I have many faults, Sol, but I flatter myself that I can judge the character of a man quite accurately.”
And she could, indeed, since she seemed to be able to read a man’s motivations and intentions like a book simply from having a conversation with him.
Laura suddenly said in a small voice, “Tell me, Sol. Even if you believe it will hurt me.”
She had cut to the heart of the matter with such ease, and yet there was a strength behind her tremulous words that Sol could feel was as unbreakable as steel.
He exhaled slowly, but she remained waiting for him.
Then he finally spoke. “After Lord Polock was killed, I recalled where I had seen Ambrosia’s face—in the portraits of your niece, Ruby, for whom you had been searching.
I returned to Ruby on the pretext of some business with the Ramparts.
I did not indicate that I recognized her, but after congratulating her on a job well done, I asked her if she wished for assistance in leaving London. I was shocked when she refused.”
“She didn’t wish to leave town? To leave her … occupation?” Laura’s voice was incredulous and yet, somehow, also sorrowful.
“I was surprised, and I asked her if she had any family to whom she could turn for comfort and protection. She said …” Sol swallowed the dry, hard lump in his throat. “She said that she had no family to whom she wished to return.”