‘Dear God,’ Will said. ‘Those poor souls.’
‘They were killed down there, our agents?’ Laura said. She looked fiercely angry. ‘The place is not swarming with the French – this is treachery by Englishmen. We have to stop them.’
I love her, Theo thought, watching the fierce anger and determination on Laura’s face. And I am going to have to talk to her. ‘We will stop them,’ he promised. ‘Somehow.’
After dinner Perry found the dusty old valise that had been sent over with Will’s belongings from the churchwarden’s house, lugged it in and spread the contents on the library table.
‘Oh dear,’ Laura said, feeling that was slightly inadequate to describe the spill of old, crumpled, stained papers that slewed across the polished mahogany. ‘I thought it was going to be notebooks and registers.’
‘It is what happens when the curate doesn’t fill in the registers immediately but keeps notes on scraps of paper,’ Will said with a sigh. ‘Although judging by the handwriting, which is atrocious, he seems to have got the verger to keep the notes. If I had realised that it was this bad I would have tried to sort them out long ago and double-checked them against the registers. There could be any number of missed births and burials and marriages in here.’
‘Paid to Jos. Tompkins for catching rats, one shilling and four pence three farthing,’ Flynn read. ‘For digging Widow Pepper’s grave, she being a pauper, five pence. There are accounts as well.’
‘This is going to take days.’ Perry poked the nearest pile with a finger and it slid aside exposing the corpses of several spiders.
‘A quick sort on the handwriting would speed things up,’ Theo said. ‘We’re looking for something that relates to one of the gentry families around here, aren’t we? We could put all these with writing that is nothing but pot-hooks and blots to one side and l
ook for an educated hand.’
‘That’s brilliant.’ Laura smiled at him and caught her breath at the look on his face when he smiled back. It is not simply male desire he feels for me, there is more, my instincts are not wrong… But we can’t. She picked up a handful of paper at random and bent her head over it to hide her expression.
Ten minutes later Will said, ‘Here. Look.’
Half a dozen sheets had been fastened together with a pin that was now rusty from damp. The writing showed far more clearly than on the scattered notes that lay across the table.
‘The ink is better, that’s a decent nib and the writing is educated, if old-fashioned.’ Jared picked up the papers. ‘It’s an accounting for contraband: two dozen of brandy from JB; fine lace of Alençon, two parcels for AY; Geneva, two barrels best grade… It goes on. From the state of the paper and the style of the writing, I would hazard a guess that this was produced by the Reverend Swinburn. It would be easy enough to find specimens of his handwriting in the registers to compare, I would guess.’
‘And these notes are enough to justify killing Will?’ Laura threw down the sheets she had been sorting through in disgust.
‘It might be for the Reverend Finch if it came out that he has married into a family of smugglers, I suppose.’ Flynn sounded dubious. ‘Or for the present baronet. But I find it hard to believe. Smuggling is winked at by more than half of Society. The worst that might happen would be disapproval.’
‘You would have to be unhinged to kill for that,’ Jared said flatly. ‘Faugh!’ He brushed his long fingers together fastidiously. ‘Look at the state we are in. Put the smuggling notes to one side, Manners and we’ll shovel the rest back into the case. Your successor can look forward to aligning them with the registers, Thwaite: it is no longer your problem.’
‘A game of whist when we’ve dusted off the dead spiders, anyone?’ Perry asked.
‘I’m for my bed,’ Laura said. ‘Enjoy your game.’ As she passed the drawing room Theo caught up with her.
‘Laura. May I speak with you?’ He gestured at the door. ‘In here?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said frankly. Being alone with Theo only made the hurt worse.
‘My word that I will not so much as touch your hand.’
‘It is not that… Oh, very well.’ It sounded ungracious, it felt like surrender. But to what?
Theo closed the door behind them and stayed on his feet when she took one of the upright chairs. ‘Laura, I love you. I didn’t want to, I certainly did not set out to. But I do. With all my heart. Do you – can you – feel anything for me?’
This was worse than she had feared and it confirmed what she had seen in his face that evening. He was not protesting feelings that were false in order to seduce her or to tease her. He meant what he was saying.
‘It does not matter what I think or feel.’ Somehow she manged to keep her voice steady. ‘You are spoken for.’
‘Yes. But tell me the truth, Laura, please.’
She should get up and walk out. Instead she looked him in the eye and said, ‘Yes, I love you too.’ And just for a moment the world went away, and sounds faded and all she could see was Theo and the almost painful intensity of his happiness at her words. Then, sickeningly, reality came back. ‘And we can do nothing about it.’
‘If we ignore it, then we make three people unhappy for the rest of our lives,’ he said.
‘Three?’