Chapter 6 #2
“Well, Anderson is returning from London tomorrow morning, and I intend to give him a direct report of what I know. Crozier urged me to.”
General Crozier was the commanding officer of the Auxiliary Division and alleged to be a fair man.
But the news that Sir John Anderson was returning from London was what made me perk up.
He served as joint undersecretary and was the man on the ground here in Ireland who most understood the situation and the day-to-day operations of the Castle administration.
I’d developed a favorable opinion of him over the past few months and had often wished he were the man truly in charge.
Instead, he was forced to do the bidding of less intelligent and less reasonable officials who spent more time in London than Dublin.
Sidney and I had recently solved a rash of jewel thefts at his behest. A request that had come about after he’d spoken to C about me.
So I knew that he was already at least partially aware of my involvement with British Intelligence.
I could only believe that Anderson’s return meant good things for me, especially if C had spoken to him while he was in London.
My heart brimmed with hope.
“Thank you,” I told Maxwell.
He bowed smartly at the waist. “Stay strong.”
“I will,” I promised him.
I now had ample reason to.
I woke in the darkness of early morning, coming to alertness almost immediately. Memories flooded my brain, but I clung to one of them. Anderson was returning.
Had his overnight ferry already docked at Kingstown? Would he come straight to the Castle? How long would it take him to travel here? Would I be one of his first priorities? Would I be a priority at all?
Knowing I would never fall back asleep, I climbed from the warm cocoon of my covers. I draped the extra blanket Captain Maxwell had brought me around my shoulders, huddling into it as I paced. It was ten steps from one side of the room to another, and ten steps back.
I probably walked those ten steps tens of thousands of times before there was a knock on the door later that morning that sounded different than the others. I couldn’t say precisely why it sounded different. It just did. It was also too early for them to bring lunch.
“Come in,” I called.
I’m not entirely certain what sound I uttered, but I know that I cried out when the door opened and I saw Sidney striding toward me.
Then I was in his arms, burying my head in his chest as sobs overtook me.
I’d not intended to cry, but the feel of my husband’s arms around me, the scent of him, flooded me with such a sense of relief and security that I couldn’t have suppressed my tears if I’d tried.
We stood like that for some time, clinging to each other while I wept. He didn’t try to make me stop but simply held me. In many ways, holding me together when I felt I was falling apart. Only when my wracking sobs had begun to subside did he reach inside his pocket to hand me a handkerchief.
I dabbed at my eyes and blew my nose, still wrapped in the secure shelter of his embrace.
When I felt that I had myself more in hand, I finally lifted my face to his.
His midnight-blue eyes gazed down at me in concern, their rims also red, and his normally bronzed features wan with worry.
I lifted my hand to cradle the side of his face, partly to ensure he was real and partly to offer comfort.
The beginnings of stubble on his square jaw lightly abraded my fingertips.
His dark hair, which he usually kept ruthlessly trimmed and restrained with pomade, was still in need of a haircut, and now escaped his efforts to tame it, curling about his face and falling over his heavy brow.
This, more than anything, told me how frantic he must have been to get to me whenever he was summoned this morning.
He would normally have never appeared so disheveled in public.
Over his shoulder, I could see that Captain Maxwell had averted his eyes, allowing us a moment.
I had opened my mouth to address him when Sidney’s hand suddenly lifted to my chin.
He held it gently, scrutinizing my left eye.
I knew the skin on the lid and around it still bore blotchy red marks from the heat of the poker Hardy had held up to it, and the eyelashes and hairs singed from my eyebrows would take time to regrow.
Sidney’s jaw hardened and his eyes flashed with fire. “Who did this?” he demanded.
I didn’t answer, preferring to talk about it later.
“I’m all right,” I assured him instead. Or at least, I would be.
Right now, I just wanted to get out of the Castle.
I couldn’t help fearing that something might alter, some tide might shift, and Sidney and I would both be detained.
Better to be gone before that could happen.
But Sidney persisted. “Who did this?”
“It was Major King and Captain Hardy,” Maxwell said.
Sidney released my face and turned to look at him.
Maxwell glanced at me, perhaps reading my surprise that he knew this. “They handle the … interrogations in the intelligence room.” His voice was soft but firm, presumably so it would not carry but also so that Sidney would not doubt his knowledge.
Fury flickered across my husband’s features, only to be stifled before he turned to me. “What else did they do?” His gaze drifted over my figure, clearly searching for hidden injuries.
I didn’t want to discuss this. Not now. It was still too raw.
But Maxwell urged me. “He’ll only imagine worse.”
I swallowed. “Slaps.”
“Openhanded so they wouldn’t leave lasting marks,” Sidney deduced.
“And … two punches. One here and the other here.” I used my hands to illustrate, hesitating to add. “The second made me bleed.”
His brow furrowed in confusion at first but then cleared in comprehension. He was wise enough not to ask the stupid questions the army physician had, trusting I knew my own body.
“I am still sore, but improving,” I explained lest he worry.
“And this.” His finger brushed my cheek below my eye. “What did this?”
It was harder to speak the words than I’d anticipated. It took me multiple tries before I was able to utter. “A fireplace poker.”
Sidney’s pupils flared wide in shock, grasping all the implications without my having to explain.
He rounded on Maxwell , who offered no defense, merely gazed back at his friend solemnly.
It was clear Sidney wanted to rage at someone, but before he could lash out at the man before him, he recognized he was not the one to blame.
Turning aside, he scraped a hand back through his hair. “My God.”
“I am all right, Sidney,” I repeated, reaching for his arm. “Or I will be. There should be no lasting damage.”
“Yes, but …” He gripped my hands. His teeth gritted in agony and anger. “How could they do such a thing?!”
“I don’t know,” I admitted in a small voice.
This seemed to pierce the bubble of fury building within him, for his shoulders slumped and he pulled me close, pressing his lips to my temple. I closed my eyes for a moment, drawing strength from his love for me, and then stepped back to address both men.
“Can we go now?”
Maxwell looked to Sidney, who frowned before replying. “Not yet, I’m afraid. Anderson is waiting for us in his office.”
I inhaled past the tightness in my chest. “Then let’s go see him.”
Maxwell turned to lead us, and Sidney lent me the support of his arm as he escorted me from the room. I didn’t look back.