Beyond a Doubt(20)

“Oh, look at the time.”

Bryce jumped from his seat as one of the women mentioned the time. The lateness of the hour and his absence from the house next door had surely worried Lucy. As he looked out the window and tried to think of a way to extricate himself from the women without hurting their feelings, one of the twins placed a delicious smelling treat in front of his face.

“Please take this pie,” said Winnie.

“Blackberry pie is Lucy’s favorite,” added Winifred.

“What? I thought it was apple pie?” asked Winnie.

“Apple, you say? Are you sure? I’m still thinking blackberry,” said Winifred.

Bryce left the two old women arguing. If they wanted Lucy to have the thing, they could bring it by later. The yard opened onto the street and Bryce walked in front of the two houses to reach Lucy’s home. Lights blazed through the curtained windows.

Slipping up the walk and through the door, Bryce heard a racket. The sound came from the study. Still filthy from earlier in the day, Bryce avoided the carpet as he walked toward the noise.





Chapter Thirty-Six




Lucy fled the scene. She stumbled upon the uneven ground as bile rose in her throat. Fear coursed through her veins as her feet slapped the sidewalk in a run. A black hackney loomed nearby. She quickly boarded it and gave directions to her street, avoiding the exact address for her home.

Once the driver stopped, Lucy stepped off. She waited until he left, and then ran around the corner to her own home. She flung the door wide, burst through, and skidded to a stop in the study.

Where was it? Books flew through the air as she searched through every one. No stray papers fluttered to the ground. Next she searched the desktop. After finding nothing on top, she pulled the desk drawers open and threw them to the floor, letting the contents spill out.

Spotting nothing, Lucy lit every candle she could find. The house blazed with light, and Lucy returned to the study. She lifted the Mai Ogi fan. Light hit the material and cast a shadow, revealing the secret message.

As far as Lucy knew her father had held only one piece of the puzzle. The agent received just the coded message. From there the coded message passed to the contact. Perhaps the contact held the key? Or the message passed hands again; Lucy didn’t know.

What she did know was that her contact, Joshua, or in this case Reginald Spalding, was dead, and that because she didn’t have the ability to decode the message, the situation hadn’t changed. This was still a matter of life and death.

Somewhere in this room there had to be information on who to report to if Joshua perished.

Lucy continued to search for the information she needed. She removed portraits from the walls, overturned furniture, and pulled coverings to the side to search the stuffing. The dirt from plants she scooped out into containers. Surely Father had created a hiding spot in this room. With persistence, the place would be found.

She rapped the walls with her knuckles. Pain shot through her hands and up her arm. Around the room, from floor to ceiling, she worked. She crawled toward the door, stopping as her eyes spied the thick legs of someone familiar. Bryce.

She lifted her head, her gaze slowly taking in the figure before her. The expression upon his face showed confusion and genuine concern. Lucy ignored him and continued her hunt.

When every surface had been tapped and touched, Lucy sat in a chair behind the desk. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She held her fist to the air and shook it. Why was this happening? Mission after mission successfully completed, until now.

Without Joshua, her link to the underground died. Without the code’s key, she couldn’t decipher the message. Without a contact list, she couldn’t pass the message along to the next person in line. What was she to do? The entire situation was a hopeless mess.

****

Words poured forth from Lucy’s mouth in an incoherent babble. Lucy looked like a little lost child sitting in the ransacked study, a mound of papers surrounding her, portraits lying upon the floor, and dirt engrained in the rugs.

Bryce approached her with a slow, reserved gait. It wouldn’t do to startle the lass and send her away. Each step he made was carefully placed. Unsure of the importance of the articles scattered about the room, he didn’t wish to risk ruining any of it.

When Bryce reached her side, he squatted next to her. He expected the babbling wild-eyed girl to continue, but instead she stopped talking and threw herself into his open arms.

“What am I going to do?” she cried.

He massaged the upper part of her back and shoulders. He remained silent, uncertain as to what she wanted or needed.

A steady flow of tears soaked his tunic. He tried to follow the meaning of her one-sided conversation, but it was impossible. Messages, shadows, missing papers; none of it made sense to him. Hopefully when Lucy calmed down, a more rational conversation could ensue.

After about ten minutes, Lucy leaned back, wiped the tears from her face, cleared her throat, and stood. “I’m sorry.”

Bryce waited patiently for more explanation, but was disappointed when she said nothing more. He watched in confusion as Lucy resumed her search. Finally she stopped, stood in the middle of the room, and screamed. The sound echoed off the walls and reverberated along his spine.

Bryce rushed to her side. Worry gnawed at his gut. What could have caused such a change in her demeanor? “Lucy, what is wrong with ye?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” she replied.

“Try me.”

Lucy rounded on him. A fierce glint lit her eye as she pushed him into a corner. “I’m a spy, an undercover agent for the Huguenots in France. I work to help them keep their property and lives intact. Tonight I watched my contact die. A dagger consigned him to an early grave.

“Now I have a secret message I can’t decode, nor do I know who to pass it along to. All I do know is, if this message is late in its arrival, someone will likely perish.”

Out of breath, Lucy’s chest rose and fell as she circled him. Bryce’s mind filled with every piece of information Lucy spewed upon him. What did it all mean?

A question formed on his lips but was interrupted by a knock. Bryce and Lucy turned their heads at the same time. Before either one of them could move, they heard the squeak of an opening door.

“You forgot your pie.”





Chapter Thirty-Seven




Hours later, after Winnie and Winifred’s departure, Bryce continued to process all the startling information. Lucy Bard was really Lucille Lombard. In one afternoon she had gone from unlikely socialite to spy.

From what he gathered, her father Louis had been the original spy, and this had gotten him killed. His dying wish had been for Lucy to deliver one important message. But once involved, Lucy had felt obligated to continue. The cause needed her.

Besides, the acts required of her were quite simple. She visited well-to-do Scottish families. Because of King Henry II of France’s ties with Scotland through the young Mary, only child of James V, word often seeped over borders and across the lips of Scottish nobles. When the ale flowed, so did the words of conspiracy.

The coded messages were placed on common objects which Lucy carried from Scotland to England upon her person. The simple process had held little to no complications until now.

“What about yer companion?” Bryce asked.

When they had first met, Lucy had spoken of a traveling companion who’d stolen her goods. With all the lies told, Bryce couldn’t help but wonder if this had been a fabrication as well.

“Ah, Charles, the shyster. He offered to ride along with me for company, but at the first opportunity he left with my trunk. Took everything I owned in one fell swoop. Mostly he took my clothing. He took nothing that would lead anyone to believe I was anything other than a lady on holiday.”

“Was he searching for the message?”

“I don’t know. It is possible. However, I don’t know how he could have guessed my identity. I assure you, I practice the utmost discretion. No one has ever looked at me in suspicion. Trust me when I say I have seen others under a certain scrutiny which I assure you I have yet to suffer.”

Bryce would never forget her face, so he found it hard to believe that others could. Perhaps Charles had been watching her for some time and she was unaware. If she was always at certain places, it would be fairly easy to realize her involvement. If plots continued to be thwarted after her visits to Scotland, wouldn’t someone begin to suspect her?

“Nevertheless, you do see my predicament.”

Bryce nodded.

“Do you have any suggestions?”

The expectant look on her face urged him to please her. He paced the living area. The study had recently been abandoned for more comfortable quarters. Thoughts flew through his mind. “We might need to search the rest of the house, or—“ he interrupted himself, tapping his finger to his forehead.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, her eyes widening.