Chapter Seven
THE STORY GEOFFERY revealed as they made their way upon first the deer trail, then no trail at all, and then a wider path was utterly fantastic in the most literal definition of the word: extraordinary and fanciful.
“And it was after your brother’s advancement that you began to ferry these messages?”
“He is the only one who knows my identity. Well, and you, I suppose. To everyone else in the network, I am known as Rogue.”
The name ran a shiver through her belly. Rogue, indeed.
They were walking side by side now, watching the path in front of them as they moved forward. “You deliver things?”
“I deliver messages, nothing more, through a network of people I rarely see. I am given instructions for delivery that I destroy as soon as they are committed to memory, as well as a message. This one has been printed on silk. Sometimes, it is a single word I am to remember and repeat to the right person, sometimes a coded note slipped into the pages of a book. Once, it was an engraved bracelet I delivered to an elderly woman through the front door of a grand estate. That was an unexpected day, let me tell you.”
“Today you are delivering that parcel?” She nodded toward the package under his arm.
“Just the message today, the cipher; I am doing my part relaying intelligence to the home office, but it’s the only part I want.”
“A spy,” she said under her breath, finding it utterly delicious. “And no one knows your role? Not even Robert?”
“Not a soul beyond my brother, though, of course, people in the network know Rogue. Oh, and the carriage driver knows my identity; he was my trainer, and we have worked together for several years.”
Oh dear, the driver!
“Is he all right?” Veronica asked, feeling terrible for not worrying about him earlier. “The highwaymen’s carriage went after him!”
“He knows how to take care of himself and left our carriage at a run to inform the network. There is always a second and third plan, just in case; you and I are in full execution for the second.”
The rain had stopped, but walking through the dripping trees and bushes felt as though it was still raining.
“This will likely be the end of my service,” Geoffery said after a minute of silence between them as Veronica considered all he’d said.
She stopped in surprise and turned to face him. “What? You’re finished with this work?”
“I’ve been unveiled,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone while shrugging one shoulder. “The men in that carriage saw my face, which means I am no longer of any use to the home office and may, in fact, be a liability. There will be a full review of the situation.”
Veronica pulled her eyebrows together, but he cut off her response by checking his watch again. “We’re almost there, but we can’t risk a delay, Miss Veronica. I’m sorry.”
“Oh no, of course,” she said, hurrying forward again and keeping her pace up while trying to hide her increasing breathlessness.
When she lived in Andover, she walked every day to and from town, or upon one of the paths that looped through the woodlands behind her home.
Since going to London, though, she’d lost such independence and, apparently, was no longer so physically primed for such things.
It was one more reason to hate the city.
“Those highwaymen are enough to cut off your work?” she asked after a few more steps.
“They weren’t highwaymen,” he said. “Or, rather, they were, but that is not all they were. The man they left behind, granted, would not know of their deeper purposes, but the two men who went after the driver are most certainly in the information business.”
“You’re so certain,” Veronica breathed. She’d assumed they were as much miscreants as the horrible man Geoffery had bested.
“We were on a narrow road far away from routes of commerce. The only reason for us to be there was the delivery; the only reason for them to be there was to intercept it.”
“I don’t see how you could know that,” she said, unable to hold back her resistance to his certainty.
“It is about metrics and logistics I can’t possibly explain here and now.” His hand landed on her shoulder as he came to a stop. She turned to face him. “You are taking this quite well, Miss Veronica.”
She pulled her eyebrows together. “How else should I take it?”
He laughed. “You are a steady sort of woman, aren’t you?”
Well, Veronica quite liked that perspective, though she felt humbled enough by the events of the day to find it difficult to embrace it completely.
To be set beneath a sign of “steady” felt as ill-fitted as this coat.
“I am not sure where you are seeing such evidence, Mr. Meyers, for I feel very foolish and na?ve just now. I truly did complicate an already complicated situation, didn’t I? ”
Though he was holding her shoulder, she could not look at him.
“I should never have said that,” he said in that same sincere tone. “I mean, yes, you were an additional complication, but you’ve also been a help, and . . . I have suspected these last weeks that my cover was in jeopardy. That the carriage knew where to find us is proof of that.”
He secured the canvas bundle under his other arm and leaned in so that only a foot separated them.
She sensed he was making a point, but she was distracted by how close he was.
That earlier warmth she’d felt in her chest was back in an instant, and she swallowed, hoping the heat wouldn’t show on her cheeks.
“The first evidence of your steadiness was your very decision to leave London at all. There are many people who accept the life London presents as the only course. The next point was the way you defended yourself to me upon discovery, rather than backing down or falling to vapors. You then followed my counsel to be attentive and discerned the signals I was sending—a big risk on my part that paid off tenfold. The next points are too numerous to count; you did as I asked on the side of the road without question, remembered my boots when I had quite put them out of my mind, thought to add pockets to your dresses, and followed me into woods completely unknown to you. Those are incredibly sturdy acts for anyone, let alone a young woman.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, albeit playfully. “You are sugaring criticism again.”
He laughed and put up his free hand as if in surrender.
“My apologies. I simply wanted to illustrate that if I thought you would settle for less or could not handle the whole of my situation, I’d have been more circumspect in what I shared.
Your ability to manage yourself is the only reason I have felt secure divulging so much. I meant only to pay you a compliment.”
“Well,” she said, smiling her acceptance of his defense, “you are quite the surprising man, Mr. Meyers. I’d have never guessed you have such a hidden life as this.”
“I shall take that as a compliment, too, then, and you must call me Geoffery at this point so that I might feel as though we are friends.” He gave her a wink before looking about them once again.
“Were anyone to have suspected me, I’d have been out of service a long time ago.
We need to move again; I’m sorry we cannot rest longer. ”
“How long have you been a courier, then?”
“Nearly a decade,” he said, kicking at a rock with his shoe.
“I started during university—taking notes openly back and forth between professors, then a broader range of message deliveries and increased secrecy as I proved myself. It’s only these last few years that my work has crossed into international intrigues, necessitating more time in London and keeping specific company with a handful of noblemen and women also involved in the cause of security for our country. ”
“Women do such work?”
“Oh yes,” he said, turning his head to smile at her.
“They are some of the very best messengers due to their natural curiosity and ability to move through Society, garnering less suspicion. There is a particular woman I receive messages from who has been in the service twice as long as I; you would be shocked to know her identity, which I discovered by accident. She is surely the last woman I’d ever consider for this sort of thing, and yet she has done remarkably well relaying what she learns through bridge games and drawing room gossip. ”
“How very thrilling,” Veronica said, imagining how exciting it would be to do such work while also trying to guess at the woman’s identity. What women of Society would be the least likely to participate in something like this?
“Sometimes it is thrilling; usually, it is mundane,” Geoffery said.
“And although relaying information is a relatively small role in the grand scheme of things, I have enjoyed feeling as though I am doing my part to protect this great country.” He looked back at her with a sheepish expression.
“Like everyone, I suppose, the circumstances of my life are limited. My father forbade me from military service, but I’ve no title to rise to as the second son.
Within those confines—though I understand I have much privilege to be grateful for—I have always wanted my own place in the world, if that makes any sense.
” He shrugged and turned away from her, removing the compass from his pocket again, though she suspected the action was mostly to keep from meeting her eyes, as he seemed to be feeling a bit insecure.
They came to a stop, and he consulted the compass again.
“I suppose that sounds very silly, but there it is. I wanted just a bit more than an ordinary life, and I have had it.”