Chapter Twelve
“Crayle has surfaced,” Cole said before he was properly through the door. His hat was already in his hand, which suggested he had remembered the courtesy upon the stair. “At seven this morning, a crossing-sweeper’s boy brought this to my office.”
He placed a folded note upon the table.
“He wants money and passage out of England. In exchange, he offers an account of who sent him to Ashcombe, who paid him to follow Lady Harwood into the conservatory, and who has lately been paying for information about this household.”
Victoria entered upon the last words and stopped with one hand upon the door.
Neither man had heard her approach.
“He means Roland,” she said.
Cole rose. “Lady Harwood.”
“Sit down, Cole.”
She came to the table and took the remaining chair.
“He is offering to sell us Roland.”
“Yes.” Cole turned the folded note once beneath his fingers. “The difficulty is determining whether he has truly turned against Hemsworth or merely wishes us to believe he has.”
“Those are very different dangers,” Elias said.
“They are. If Hemsworth has cast him off, Crayle may be frightened enough to speak. If he has not, the offer may be intended to draw you into a private meeting where your temper may again be made useful.”
Elias looked at the note. “Where?”
“A room above a tavern near the river. At dusk. You are to come alone.”
“Which argues for the second possibility.”
“Strongly,” Cole agreed. “Though frightened men do sometimes choose foolish places for genuine betrayals. I cannot tell you from this room whether the note is a confession or a trap.”
Victoria looked at the small, ordinary paper between them.
“What does he claim to possess?”
“Names, dates, instructions, and knowledge of how his debts were acquired. Whether he can prove any of it is another question.”
“And if we refuse?”
“He may disappear. He may return to Hemsworth. Or Hemsworth may silence him before we reach him again.”
The clock upon the mantel marked several seconds into the quiet.
“Then we alter the meeting,” Victoria said.
Both men looked at her.
“He has named the place, the hour, and the person who must attend. We accept none of the three.”
Elias’s expression changed slightly. “Go on.”
“A public room in daylight. One chosen by Cole, with his men already present. Crayle is searched before he enters and leaves by another door afterwards.”
“And I attend?” Elias asked.
“No.”
The answer came before she could soften it.
“You are the object of the trap, if it is one. Every design depends upon provoking you or compromising you. Remove you, and much of its purpose disappears.”
“And who goes in my place?”
“I do.”
“No.”
Cole looked from one to the other and wisely remained silent.
Victoria held Elias’s gaze.
“Crayle cannot bait me into striking him. Nor can he plausibly claim that I arranged a private meeting in order to harm him, if Cole chooses the room and fills it with witnesses before I arrive.”
“He may insult you.”
“He has done so before.”
“He may threaten you.”
“So has Roland.”
“He may be armed.”
“Then Cole’s men will search him.”
Elias rose and went to the window. “You speak as though a room becomes safe merely because we have arranged the chairs.”
“No. I speak as though danger may be reduced even when it cannot be removed.”
He turned back.
“And what do you intend to offer him?”
“Nothing until he has given us enough to prove he is not wasting our time. If his account can be supported, Cole may negotiate passage and protection in return for sworn testimony.”
Cole inclined his head. “That is possible.”
“No money beforehand,” Victoria continued. “No private bargain and no promise that excuses what he did. He tells the truth before a magistrate or he receives nothing.”
“And if he refuses?”
“Then he returns to the man whose hold upon him has already begun to tighten.”
“That is coercion,” Elias said.
“It is a choice between two dangers. Crayle has lived by offering such choices to women. I confess I am not troubled that he should recognise the shape of one.”
Cole’s mouth shifted, though not quite into a smile.
Elias did not move from the window.
“You have considered this quickly.”
“I have spent years considering how frightened men behave when they believe themselves cornered.”
“That does not make me like it.”
“I have not asked you to like it.”
“No,” he said. “You have asked me to remain elsewhere while you enter a room with the man who laid hands upon you.”
“Yes.”
The quiet between them sharpened.
Victoria softened her voice, though not the argument.
“You told me once that the locks would hold whether I believed in them or not. I am asking you to rely upon the safeguards we put in place now, not upon Crayle and not upon chance. Cole chooses the place. His men control the doors. You remain close enough to act if needed, but not near enough to be seen or provoked.”
“I remain across the street,” Elias said.
It was not a question.
“If Cole agrees.”
“I do,” Cole replied. “A private room above my clerk’s coffee house would serve. There is another chamber opposite with a clear view of the entrance. Harwood may wait there without Crayle knowing he has come.”
Elias looked at him. “You had already considered it.”
“I had hoped one of you would propose something sensible before I was obliged to.”
Victoria almost smiled.
Elias did not.
He returned to the table and rested both hands upon its edge.
“If at any point Cole considers the room unsafe, you leave.”
“Yes.”
“If Crayle attempts to approach you, the meeting ends.”
“Yes.”
“You do not promise money, passage, immunity, or anything else without Cole’s authority.”
“I had not intended to.”
“And you carry no weapon.”
Victoria raised an eyebrow. “Did you imagine I had acquired one?”
“I have learnt not to assume the limits of your preparation.”
“That is almost flattering.”
“It was not intended to be.”
Cole cleared his throat.
“I shall answer the note. Tomorrow at noon, on our terms. That gives me time to arrange the room and have a magistrate within call if Crayle proves willing to make a formal statement.”
Elias remained silent.
Victoria watched him test the plan once more, looking for the defect that would permit him to refuse it without admitting that refusal arose from fear.
At last, he sat.
“I dislike every part of this.”
“So do I,” she said.
“That is not a recommendation.”
“No. But agreement is not the same as comfort.”
His eyes met hers, and the faintest trace of resignation passed over his face.
“Very well. You go in. Cole controls the room. I remain across the street.”
Victoria released a breath she had not meant to hold.
“You agree?”
“I concede that the plan is sound. Agreement may take longer.”
It was, from Elias, more than she had expected.
Cole took up the note.
“I shall see to the arrangements.”
When he had gone, Elias remained at the table, his gaze fixed upon the place where the paper had lain.
“You are angry,” Victoria said.
“Yes.”
“With me?”
“No. That would be easier.”
She crossed the room and stopped beside him.
“You have spent this marriage asking me to choose.”
“I had hoped you might choose only things I could bear.”
“That was never part of the arrangement.”
“No,” he said quietly. “It was not.”
She put her hand upon his shoulder.
He covered it with his own but did not turn.
“I shall be across the street,” he said.
“I know.”
“And if anything goes wrong…”
“Cole will bring me out.”
“That was not what I meant.”
“I know that too.”
For a moment, neither moved.
His consent had not come from confidence in the plan, nor from any belief that danger had passed. It had come because he had promised not to confuse fear with authority, and she had asked him to keep the promise when keeping it cost him.
Victoria understood the weight of that more clearly than she wished to.
Tomorrow, she would meet Crayle.
For the remainder of the morning, neither of them pretended that fact was small.