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We are not all capable of everything.
— Virgil, 70-19 B.C.
The gentlemen at the War Office gratefully accepted the deciphered information Jarrod delivered. And the special group of gentlemen in the cramped offices in the building off Abchurch Lane, who were skilled in the arts of secret writings and whose job it was to encipher the bulk of the messages headed for the French coast, were pleasantly surprised to find their duties lightened by the exceptional work of Jarrod's code breakers, especially the correction of the ciphering tables and the enciphering of the dummy dispatches.
Even their disappointment at the code breakers' failure to decipher the one letter written entirely in Grand Chiffre was tempered by their elation at the information contained in the portion that had been deciphered. King Joseph of Spain had written the letter. British spies had intercepted it. That meant the English government now had King Joseph of Spain's code. All they needed was the time to decipher it. And Lord Shepherdston's code breakers had already done the lion's share of the work.
"Good work, my boy." The Earl of Weymouth congratulated Jarrod as they left the Abchurch Lane offices.
"Thank you, sir." Jarrod was inordinately pleased to receive a compliment from Griffin's father. Both Jarrod and Colin had begun their work at the War Office under Weymouth's tutelage three years earlier, shortly before Griffin left his job at the War Office and purchased a commission as a major in the Eleventh Blues cavalry regiment commanded by Sir Raleigh Jeffcoat.
But Colquhoun Grant had needed young volunteers to help him organize a network of spies and smugglers to ferret out information on enemy movements and to intercept enemy dispatches and letters from the front. The job of intercepting enemy dispatches and mail had grown to include the deciphering of it, and Jarrod and Colin followed Griff's example and left their administrative posts under Lord Weymouth for the more dangerous duty of becoming master spies and code breakers.
The secret Free Fellows League had discovered its purpose.
The Earl of Weymouth had regretted losing two of his ablest assistants, but he understood Jarrod's and Colin's desire to go where they were most needed. When Grant left London to join Wellington on the Peninsula, Weymouth had assumed the portion of his duties that included collecting the captured enemy mail and delivering it to code breakers for deciphering. The Marquess of Shepherdston and a black-robed gentleman in the offices in the little building off Abchurch Lane were two of the people to whom Weymouth sent military dispatches on a regular basis. Both were entirely trustworthy and Weymouth knew it.
"My superiors were very pleased with the information you presented."
"I'm gratified to hear it," Jarrod told him.
"They were pleased with everything except your tardiness." Weymouth met Jarrod's gaze. "And since I have never known you to be late for anything at any time, I was astonished by it."
"I apologize for keeping you waiting, Lord Weymouth," Jarrod told him. "But it couldn't be helped. I was delayed while collecting the ciphers."
"Then I suppose it was for the best," Weymouth said.
"Just don't let it happen again. Especially when both our reputations are on the line."
"It won't, sir."
"Good." Weymouth rubbed his palms together. "I won't ask how you did it because I know you're duty bound not to divulge the identities of your network of spies, smugglers, and code breakers even to me, but I hope that you will commend them for me."
Jarrod nodded. "I'll do so, sir."
They had reached Weymouth's carriage. "Can I offer you a lift?"
"No, sir," Jarrod replied. "My carriage is just down the way."
"Very good then." The earl climbed into the coach, then turned and issued an invitation. "Griffin and I are having luncheon at the club," he said. "Why don't you join us there?"
"I would love to, sir," Jarrod answered truthfully, "but I'm meeting Viscount Dunbridge for coffee shortly."
Weymouth grimaced. "Dunbridge? Don't tell me he's one of your — " He held up his hand. "Don't tell me."
Jarrod shook his head. "My meeting with Dunbridge has no bearing on the work I do for the government. Our meeting is purely personal. It concerns the environs surrounding Shepherdston Hall, particularly the benefice and the glebe Dunbridge owns."
Weymouth drew his eyebrows together. "Having trouble with your neighbor?"
"Something like that." Jarrod didn't volunteer any more information and the earl didn't press.
"Watch your back," Weymouth cautioned, waving goodbye. "Neighbors can be a damnable nuisance and I've heard Dunbridge is as obstinate as the day is long an
d he doesn't like to lose."
Jarrod had heard that as well. On several occasions. From several different people. "I trust that we'll be able to reach an equitable arrangement."