Six #2
Mrs. Pembroke gave an impatient sigh. “I want you to write what you heard, small enough that it all fits. Abbreviate if you must.”
“For whom, ma’am?”
Mrs. Pembroke looked heavenward. “For someone who needs to know.”
Anna took the quill. “Mrs. Pembroke, I am a maid.”
“Yes, dear. And I am a woman with a ruined garden and thirty-five enemies coming to dance in my parlor. We must all bear our burdens.”
“But if anyone finds this on me…”
“Then we shall both be in a great deal of trouble.” Mrs. Pembroke’s voice gentled. “Do you wish to stop?”
Anna gazed at the locket. She thought of Martha Washington’s name hidden inside, her letter, and of British officers speaking freely because they believed no one important was near enough to hear. She then thought of Nathaniel Reed’s warning about thin walls and crowded rooms.
Anna dipped the quill. “No. I do not wish to stop.”
Mrs. Pembroke gave her a curt nod. “Then write, my dear.”
Anna bent over the parchment and wrote the words as small as she could, abbreviating most of the message. When she was done, she showed it to Mrs. Pembroke. “Is that enough?”
The woman looked over her shoulder. “It is ugly enough to be useful.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Code should never look like poetry, dear. Now fold it.”
Anna did, until it was no larger than her thumbnail.
Mrs. Pembroke opened the front of the locket, removed the little portrait, and pressed the hidden clasp behind it.
The second compartment released. Even though Anna had seen it before, the sight made her pulse quicken.
The hidden place was small enough to hold a scrap of paper and large enough to change lives.
Mrs. Pembroke held the locket steady while Anna tucked the folded message inside. Her fingers trembled, but she managed it. That done, Mrs. Pembroke closed the hidden compartment, replaced the portrait, and shut the locket.
She slipped the locket into a small linen pouch and pulled the ribbon tight. “You will keep this until I tell you otherwise.”
Anna’s eyes widened. “Me?”
“You have already proven you can sew a pocket and catch a spoon. I am prepared to believe you can keep a pouch.”
Anna gulped. “That is not encouraging me, ma’am.”
“It was not meant to, dear.” Mrs. Pembroke pressed the pouch into Anna’s hands. “Now, do not put it in your apron pocket. It is too obvious. Not your bodice either. Men have wandering eyes and empty heads…”
She didn’t finish the sentence and instead patted her hair. “I suggest you pin it inside your petticoat beneath the side seam. If anyone asks why you are limping, tell them Mercy dropped a punch glass on your foot.”
“I have not dropped one yet,” Mercy said from the other side of the door.
Anna jumped and almost screamed.
Mrs. Pembroke closed her eyes. “Mercy.”
The door opened an inch, and Mercy peeked through the gap. “I was sent to find Anna.”
“By whom?” Mrs. Pembroke asked.
“Mrs. Fenwick. Who else?”
“And what does Mrs. Fenwick want with her?”
Mercy thought a moment. “Oh, I forgot.”
Mrs. Pembroke once more looked heavenward. “Providence tests me hourly in this house.”
Mercy’s gaze dropped to Anna’s hand, and Anna quickly closed it over the pouch. Mrs. Pembroke maneuvered herself between them. “Tell Mrs. Fenwick that Anna is assisting me with a household matter.”
Mercy’s eyes brightened with curiosity.
“A dull household matter,” Mrs. Pembroke added.
Mercy’s shoulders slumped. “All right.”
“And Mercy,” Mrs. Pembroke sang.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“If you mention this conversation to anyone, I shall make you polish every spoon in the house again. And let us see… two more times after that.”
Mercy gasped. “You wouldn’t.”
Mrs. Pembroke smiled.
Mercy paled in response. “Yes, ma’am.” With that, she vanished.
Anna let out the breath she’d been holding. “How much do you think she heard?”
“Mercy hears very little accurately, dear. That’s sometimes a blessing.” Mrs. Pembroke went to the door and pressed an ear against it. “Leave by the servants’ staircase. Pin the pouch as I told you, then return to the dining room.”
“And after that?” Anna asked.
Mrs. Pembroke heaved a sigh. “After that, we prepare for a ball.”
Anna gave her a curt nod, tucked the pouch into the folded linen she carried, and slipped out through the servants’ hall. When she reached the stairs, she paused, listening.
Voices carried up from below. She heard Rothborne’s clipped orders and Elias’s anxious replies.
Then another voice sounded behind her. “Miss Turner…”
Anna jumped and spun at the same time. The folded linen nearly slid from her arms.
Nathaniel Reed stood in the hall, a sealed packet in one hand and his hat in the other. He glanced from her face to the linen she held. “Are you in a hurry?”
She drew in a breath. “I am not.”
“You nearly dropped your linen.”
“That would be because you startled me.” Her other hand slipped over the folded cloth as his gaze met hers for a moment.
“My apologies.”
Anna’s breath caught. From below, Rothborne called, “Reed!”
Nathaniel didn’t look away. Instead, he drew closer. “Crowded houses make poor hiding places, Miss Turner.”
Anna dared a defiant look. “Then it is fortunate I have nothing to hide.”
“Fortunate indeed,” he said, his face softening.
He turned and headed toward Rothborne’s voice. Anna remained where she was until he disappeared down the hall. Only then did she continue up the servants’ stair, the linen clutched tightly in her arms, the locket hidden inside it.
She’d thought the responsibility of the locket felt heavy before. Now it felt as though she carried the whole war inside it.