I awoke to the haunting darkness of night giving the room an otherworldly quality. I couldn't guess what had roused me, whether a nightmare or else some outside noise, but whatever it had been all trace of it disappeared in the cool breeze blowing in through the window. I breathed deeply, scenting the sea on the air, there was a dampness to it, a chill. Now I heard it, the patter of rain on the window. I turned onto my back to listen to the dull murmur. I had long loved the lullabye of rain, the sound of the wind as it rushed against the house - I snuggled into my blanket, enjoying its warmth. Perhaps it was a bit too hot, I felt an uncomfortable wetness on the back of my neck, a stifling heat about me, as I became more aware of the world my body inhabited. "Best to cool down a bit, I'll never get any sleep if I'm this hot." I thought as I threw off the blanket. I walked to the window watching the jeweled reflection of the street lamps dance on the rain drops. There were still some people walking about despite the late hour (surely it must be near midnight by now) shoulders bent against the rain, women with shawls pulled over their heads quickened their step as a torrent of rain strengthened suddenly. Looking out into the yard I saw the glow of light coming from the downstairs window. Had I forgotten to extinguish the lamp in my distracted state? I gently turned the door handle so as not to alert my neighbor with its telltale click and padded quietly to the stairs. The shadows below seemed to dance in the lamplight - or was there someone below moving about? I knelt down on the staircase and listened.
"Father what am I to do?" It was George Smith's voice! "I am lost, without direction. I know it was you who brought me to the Salvation Army - but for what purpose? I might have had the same impact on souls had I remained in the ministry. Hmpf. I might have. Always wanting to make myself greater and you lesser, am I not? And with no evidence to the former yet I am inclined to believe it. Lord my heart breaks for our ministry! Was it not the right time to declare war? Did we fail to follow your promptings? Or is this meant to test our mettle that we might come back stronger through the testing? Or are you calling us from the front lines to another battlefield? Oh Father, I just don't know what I am to do; where am I to set my foot next? Am I even watching for your lamp or am I stumbling blind in the night - claiming I can see perfectly well under my own power. My word is not light - it has no power to light the way of any man! We are called to be the light of the world but that light that is within us is your own fire. Without your light, all that is within me is darkness even though I might insist that I shine brightly as a blinding glare. Father, I confess I have trusted in my own abilities and not you - I have put my faith in man over my faith in the almighty - subdue my prideful heart and make it a heart for you! Father, you know the troubles that have beset this town, I pray that you would protect my daughter as she assists with the work in London, and for my sister, Robert, and Jim for their health and their ministry. Lord, help me to be a witness of your charity to that young woman you have sent as my ward. I pray that whatever purpose you have in bringing her into this house would be fulfilled. Please protect her from harm and danger. She has been a boon to me in the absence of my daughter, and I thank you for that." I flushed crimson at his earnest prayer. As I listened he continued to list names and families and to call down blessings upon them until suddenly, something he said caught my attention, "And Father, I ask that you would be with Miss Hayword's family in this dark time and the families of all the victims - I cannot begin to fathom the depths of their pain." he broke off. A moment later, he walked to the kitchen to put the kettle on. I slowly stood, still not making a sound, "Miss Moore, would you care for a cup of tea, since you're up?" I was caught! How long had he known of my presence?
"Yes, if you would." I answered, more loudly than was required.
"I suppose the thunder must have woke you?"
"Was there thunder?"
"Up until a score of minutes ago."
"That must have been it, then."
"Will you be taking your tea here or in your room? I can prepare a tray if you wish."
"I'll have it here." I replied, taking a seat on the sofa.
"If you don't mind, I'll join you."
"As you please." He served the tea, handing me a cup. "A spoonful of sugar and a dash of cream, if I recall correctly." I raised my eyebrows,
"You have an excellent memory, Lt. Smith."
"It serves on occasion." he answered, sitting opposite me on a faded old green armchair, he took a sip from his tea, "It is a good woman who doesn't interrupt his man during his prayers. You'll make a good wife for Quentin, when the time comes." Had I been hot before I was now burning, but I chose to ignore the suggestion,
"When did you realize I was there?"
"I heard you from the hallway. It is easy to forget with her away and you unacquainted with her, but I did raise a daughter in this house - there is no footstep so soft I am not aware of it." there was that suggestion of a smile, the twinkle in his blue eye.
"I didn't mean to eavesdrop on you. I thought I had left the lamp on and then I heard you..."
"And it is hard to turn away from a conversation once it has your attention."
"It seems I truly have imposed on you at the worst possible time."
"Yet who knows whether you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this." he murmured.
"Pardon?"
"It's nothing, just an old piece of scripture." You can have no idea how correct you are, I thought to myself. He drained the cup, "Well, I believe it is well past time that we were in asleep. Have a good night, Miss Moore."
"Goodnight, Lt. Smith." I bade him, finishing the last of my tea.
Monday morning passed with little incident but for an unpleasant (though blessedly brief) visit from Mr. Kitt, ostensibly to see how his mentor fared though he spent the great majority of the time attempting to draw my attention from my novel until, finally, I excused myself to my room. I heard the door announcing his exit shortly thereafter. Lt. Smith gave a knock on my door,
"He's gone."
"Thank you."
"I will be visiting the Shaw's for lunch, they would enjoy seeing you if you wish to come."
"No, thank you. I'm feeling a bit tired."
"Then I will be home before supper, take care." I was glad to have the house to myself today, for today was the day I would discover whether Gilbert - fool that he was - managed to pluck up the courage to seek out Helen and, if he did, would she still accept him now that her brute of a husband had passed? It had taken all my willpower not to skim the final few chapters. I knew the tendency of the authoress but then, Catherine Linton had not been won by her adoring narrator, nor had Lucy Snow enjoyed a happy ending (though that might only be speculated) - the sisters could be as cruel regarding love as they could be miraculous. The beleagured Gilbert had only just arrived at the wedding chapel, looking quite a fright from unceasing travel when a knock at the door startled me from the cold snows of winter into the stifling mid-July heat. I went to the door, peering out the window at the tall, handsome man (still boyish of feature despite being scarcely a few years younger than Lt. Smith were the lines on his face to be believed in their testimony - not deep but present even when expression didn't call upon their creation), impeccably dressed, standing at the doorstep.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Hartnett." I greeted him, opening the door. "What brings you by today?"
"Thank you, I was wondering if Lt. Smith were about?" he said, removing his bowler hat.
"No, he is dining with the Shaw family this afternoon - was he expecting you?"
"No. I just happened to be passing and there was a piece of business I wished to discuss with him. I thought I might have some luck, but apparently this is not my day."
"Well, he will be home by evening if you would care to wait?" I offered.
"No thank you." he turned, about to place the hat back in its position but seemed to think better of it and turned once more to me, "I know this is somewhat forward, but would you care to accompany me for lunch in town today? I imagine you have not had much opportunity to see the town with all the excitement about and George gone on Army business." He smiled in a way I supposed was meant to be charming, as though that might somehow obviate his presumption in asking such a thing of a woman he was only just barely familiar with. I was in the midst of a very important moment and not inclined to be interrupted - not with so few pages left. My stomach gave me a painful warning. Well certainly there was food here... perhaps a slice of bread with butter... there might still be some jam... it all sounded despairingly dismal once considered. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend." Cadet Hartnett replaced his hat. "If you'll excuse me."
"No!" the image of my fine lunch walking out the door perhaps intensified my desperation. "I'm sorry, you merely caught me off guard. Thank you for your invitation, I would be glad to accompany you. Just give me a moment to get my things."
We strolled down Montague St. past a slew of fine little shops and establishments now familiar to me from my surreptitious sojourns but as of yet I had not ventured in to any but the grocery. "Are there any shops you might fancy looking into?" Hartnett asked, genially. I managed to smile back despite the growing unrest in my stomach,
"Not at the moment."
"Well, if anything does catch your eye, do be sure to stop me so you might have a look."
"At the moment, I believe I am more interested in dining than shopping." He laughed at my quip,
"You don't leave anything to mystery, do you? I've never known a Lady to admit she might be hungry."
"Then you have had an accurate sampling. Though I wonder how you've had the opportunity to speak freely with any." I returned his barb with one of my own.
"In my youth I was acquainted with a number of them, my father was a steward, you see."
"And you did not follow in the family business."
"No, I'm afraid I had my own designs on my future that were rather in opposition to his." stretching his slender form back he turned his tanned face to the sun, eyes closed, as if enjoying its warming rays upon his face. "Not that I regret my decisions in the least."
"What did you do?"
"I was in the royal army, if you can believe it. Spent near eighteen years of my life in the service of the Queen in Africa."
"Why did you leave?"
"I suppose the Boers took all the fight out of me. Too many friends lost, and I'm getting on in years - I couldn't keep fighting wars forever."
"And yet here you are." He laughed,
"And yet here I am, in the midst of another war. Though it is, at least, my own this time. Ah, here is the place." He gestured to the familiar black casement windows, so opposite the pale facade, of the Rose and Crown tavern. "I know it's likely not the sort of fare you're used to but I will swear to heaven and earth they have the best fish and chips in town."
"With such fervent testimony to its quality, I believe I have no choice but to sample for myself to judge the veracity of your claim." He held the door as we entered the public house. The establishment felt at once cramped but not so much as to be suffocating. The walls were fashionably papered and above massive wooden beams lined the ceiling giving the place a rustic appearance. Mr. Hartnett pulled a chair out from a nearby table and gestured for me to sit.
"Now, as I recall, you arrived in town a fortnight ago?"
"Yes, two weeks this Thursday. It feels more like a month since I arrived."
"I would imagine. Two glasses of port, please." he raised two fingers to indicate the amount to the waitress. "There's been-"
"If I could have a cup of tea?" I interrupted. "I've never been especially fond of wine."
"That is because you have never had the wine here. You may be certain they have one of the finest cellars in Worthing." he turned again to the waitress, "Two glasses."
"But isn't port wine rather sweet? It seems an odd pairing."
"It may, but you must trust me - it combines well with the salty flavor of the fish." The idea still sounded repulsive to my palate; my disgust must have shown on my face for he continued, "If you find it disagrees with your tastes I will not object to your switching to tea. I only ask that you allow it a chance."
"If I must." I finally acquiesced with an exaggerated sigh.
"I insist." he smiled winningly and nodded to the woman who appeared relieved the matter was finally decided. "As I was saying, there's been a quite a bit of excitement lately, if you would call it such."
"Seems a word that does not do justice to the events."
"No, certainly it does not. I would imagine it has been a rather large shock to you."
"If you are asking whether I am accustomed to such happenings, I assure you I have never seen the like." The waitress set two glasses of the deep burgundy wine before us. I took a sip, instantly crinkling my nose from its syrupy sweet taste.
"I believe the lady and I will have the fish and chips," Mr. Hartnett threw a glance at me which I answered with a nod to signify I did not object to his choice this time. "Thank you, Ethel." The waitress smiled at his acknowledgement and walked back to the kitchen,
"I take it you know her?"
"Worthing is not so large a town that one does not come to know a number of people from all walks."
"I guessed you were familiar as a regular patron."
"That as well." he grinned, sheepishly.
"Do correct me if I am wrong," I said, taking another sip, "but I thought I had heard members of the Salvation Army abstained from all alcoholic drink?" His grin only widened,
"I'm afraid you have caught me. I suppose it is my greatest weakness that I still feel the urge to indulge in the occasional glass, an old habit from my military days. If you'll forgive me my hypocrisy I will endeavor to make greater efforts to mend my ways."
"It is of little consequence to me whether you adhere to the tenets of your faith or not, it was merely an observation." I raised my brows coquettishly.
"I daresay Ladies are always full of those."
"What is that?"
"Observations. Little moments to prod and question in order to throw a gentleman off his balance."
"Have I thrown you off your balance, Mr. Harnett?"
"Kenneth, if you please."
"Kenneth, then." I took a larger sip. Now adjusted to it, I found the sweetness quite pleasing. I could feel the spirit's warming influence on my cheeks.
"Perhaps you have. At the very least I am curious about you."
"Curiosity is a dangerous thing."
"Only insofar as the satisfaction of it is concerned."
"You seem certain it will be satisfied."
"I have no reason to doubt it should. You do not strike me as the type of woman who hides even the most mundane of facts behind her wiles."
"You may have underestimated me, Mr. Hartnett."
"Kenneth." he corrected.
"Kenneth."
"You are from the Moore family of Greenmoor Commons in N-shire, am I correct?"
"You are."
"You see, only one query in and my assertion has proven true."
"Perhaps it is only that I have secrets of much greater consequence to conceal." he raised an eyebrow.
"I have heard the Moore family has close ties to the Duke of N-shire."
"I will not deny it."
"Is not the son of the Duke near your age?"
"Two years my junior, though if you are making such inquiries to determine whether he and I are to be wed, I assure you that you are asking the wrong Moore sister."
"He is promised to your sister? Is she the elder?"
"The answer is no on both accounts, though we do expect marriage to her is his intention."
"To be overlooked so blatantly must cause a great deal of enmity between you."
"I shouldn't think so as I have no desire to marry him, and she is still far too young for such things."
"What is her age, if I may be so bold?"
"Only fourteen this year."
"But they expect a match between the two?"
"In time. It would be advantageous on all accounts." I truly wished to change the subject, I had no desire to discuss Arthur any further than was necessary (and in my opinion, nothing created that necessity) particularly now with the rumors of the ruin of Miss Gilbert still fresh in my mind - ruin I, suspected, he played no small role in.
"And what of you?" How I despised this question, it was not that it was unusual for a woman to be unmarried at my age, only that it was unusual for one from such a family to remain so. I took a rather large gulp of my drink, fortifying myself for the inevitable answer.
"As of yet-" the waitress arrived, delivering me from my plight by placing a sizable piece of battered fish surrounded by chipped potatoes before me. "Thank you." I breathed.
"Thank you, Ethel." Kenneth said as she placed his plate before him. "I believe Miss Moore would like another glass, if you would." the waitress nodded. I looked at my glass - it was nearly drained! From the look of it Kenneth had scarcely touched his. I colored. "I take it you enjoyed my choice."
"It is acceptable." I replied, staring into the dancing reflection of the lamplight in the red liquid.
"Now, where were we?" he said, cutting into his fish. "Ah yes, so how did you come to be in Worthing?" My shoulders slumped in relief, he had evidently forgotten his previous line of questioning. I tucked in to my lunch, spearing a chip on my fork and eating it. It was fantastic!
"My doctor felt it would be beneficial for my health."
"Have you been ill?"
"Not with any specific ailment, only a general malaise. He believed the sun and sea air would cure me of it."
"Has it?"
"It has been quite invigorating." the waitress placed another glass of wine before me, deftly switching it with the empty one in a single motion.
"Why Worthing and not Brighton? I had heard Brighton was where all the fine families went. It was common talk among the regiments that if you wanted to marry well that was the place to be stationed."
"Brighton is too crowded for my tastes this time of year. There is less beach than bathing machine on the shore! And I simply cannot tolerate the social set: it's all Balls and fashions and husbands." I was speaking too freely but seemed unable to stop myself. "Or finding husbands. It's so dreadfully dull! And that is not accounting for the gossip. I cannot fathom how women can pass so many hours of the day passing judgement on other women!" Kenneth laughed, his brown eyes lit up merrily. He seemed a man painted in shades of brown, from his tanned skin to his mouse colored hair - but was he ever handsome! I imagined, in his youth, he was precisely the sort of soldier they warned young ladies of.
"What is your connection to Lt. Smith? Has he long been associated with your family?"
"No, I had never met him until after I arrived."
"Then how did you come to stay with him?"
"He is an associate of the Underhills, who are dear friends of mine."
"Yes, I recall Rev. Underhill, though not especially well - it has been a number of years and I was very young when he served in this parish. Where do they reside these days?"
"Sutton at Hone."
"The young man who visited last week, that was Rev. Underhill's son, was it not?"
"Yes, Quentin."
"He did not stay long, did he?"
"He has his own duties at the Parish he needed to attend to."
"Has Rev. Underhill given up the pulpit yet?"
"In all but name he has."
"To his son? Or another curate?"
"His son."
"So that is your connection to the Smiths, then? How have you found your stay?"
"It has been fine."
"I'd imagine it is a good deal less comfortable than you are used to."
"In some ways. But I have enjoyed the quiet."
"It is a pity Bertha is away, I imagine you would have gotten on well with her."
"Yes, I had expected there would be another woman about the house."
"It must be very strange: sharing an unfamiliar house with man you have never met before."
"I will not deny it. But he has been nothing but polite to me since I arrived."
"Have you spent much time with him?"
"Not especially, though even if I had I suspect I would still feel as if I hadn't."
"I know he has been away a good deal on Salvation Army business, I imagine you've been rather lonesome."
"I have enjoyed the solitude. In a large house there is always someone watching, it is rare to ever have any true time to yourself. Even if I am only reading in the Library there are how many staff members about at any time. There is never any peace."
"I have seen you at a number of meetings, are you interested in joining the Salvation Army?"
"Not as such, no. Though I do support its charitable mission." I said, taking another sip. I went to spear another chip only to find it returned empty - looking down I saw my meal was almost gone.
"You were with Lt. Smith that day they found that poor girl in the alleyway."
"Yes."
"Terrible thing." he shook his head. "I heard it was he who found her, is that so?"
"Yes, we were leaving and we heard a woman scream, so we ran to help her."
"And you were too late to save her?"
"No, the woman who had screamed was a tavern maid. The victim had been dead for quite some time."
"And the villain just left her lie in the street?"
"No, when we arrived she had been strung between the fire escape and a rain barrel."
"Strung?" Irritation rose in me, how was he not comprehending?
"Yes, she was suspended by ropes between the fire escape and rain barrel. George cut her down."
"That's horrifying! You say it was Smith who cut her down - how?" For all his fine looks this man was terribly slow, no small wonder why he had joined the military rather than a more respectable career.
"With a knife."
"I would think a little pocket knife would not be able to cut through rope so quickly."
"It was a scout knife."
"I would not imagine Smith the type who would carry such a thing." Now that he mentioned it, nor did I. "So he cut her down in front of you?"
"Well, yes." I could think of no easy way to tell of my assistance.
"And after witnessing such a dreadful thing you still decided to remain in Worthing?" this question I was ill prepared for, I searched my mind for an excuse but my thoughts were lost in a sweetened fog.
"I... I... I believe I am not accustomed to having so much wine. I think I should be going home now." I stood, the world tilted around me - I felt a strong force bearing me up only to realize Kenneth had grabbed my arm in order to keep me from falling over.
"I'm sorry, I thought you would be more used to it. I'll help you back to the house." he wrapped his arm protectively about my shoulders,
"I believe I can manage, now that I am upright." I insisted, shrugging him off.
The walk back to the house felt longer than usual and was painfully silent, my humiliation kept me from attempting even the most mundane conversation and I suspected he remained quiet in sympathy.
"Here we are," he said, guiding me onto the front stoop. "Do you need me to come in at all?"
"No thank you, I will be fine. Thank you for the meal, do have a pleasant evening."
"You as well." he answered with a tip of his hat. I was grateful to bid him goodbye. A wave of exhaustion broke over me as I pushed the door open and staggered in, thankful George was not yet home. I had no desire that he should witness my inebriated state. I toppled onto the sofa, picking up my book, but just as soon abandoning it, the letters blurred, holding no meaning. But the throw pillow held a great deal of promise! As soon as I lay my head upon it, I dropped off into a deep, dreamless slumber.
I awoke to the merry clinking of metal against china. Opening my eyes I watched as a cup of tea was set on the table before me,
"I suppose you were more tired from last night than you suspected." Lt. Smith's gentle voice intoned. I managed to pull my somewhat disheveled self up into a sitting position, gratefully grasping the steaming cup in both hands and taking a large sip to clear the sour taste of decaying sugar from my mouth. I was startled to see the dim light of dusk through the windows,
"What time is it?"
"It's not quite 8:30. I have some sandwiches prepared, if you don't mind a late supper."
"No, I don't mind, thank you." How had I slept so long? I took another sip of tea, "When did you get back?"
"Just before five." Lt. Smith answered from the kitchen. He had allowed me to sleep three and a half hours in peace! He returned, passing a plate into my waiting hands, "They're plain cheese sandwiches, I thought they might ease your stomach." I shut my eyes, so he had noticed the faint whiff of alcohol perfuming the air around me.
"Mr. Hartnett came by to see you, when he found you weren't here he offered to take me out for lunch." I supplied the information unbidden. In truth, I doubted he would have asked if I hadn't volunteered it. He only nodded, supplying no scold or condemnation. I drank down another draught of tea.
"Feel better?"
"Yes, much." I picked up the sandwich, examining it. The pungent aroma of the pale cheese brought once more to my mind the bare white walls of the Whitechapel apartment, the wingback chair and end table comprising the only furniture, a box of cigars and a romance novel on the table (which novel it was I could no longer remember) and Roger buttering bread in the kitchen, slicing cheese - and I, still wearing the ruined nightgown permanently stained with the filth of the Thames, too hungry to even contemplate my exhaustion. To this day, those sandwiches remained the best I had ever tasted for hunger magnified their flavor one hundred fold.
"Is there something the matter?" Lt. Smith's question broke through the illusion, bringing me back to the moment.
"No, just remembering. Thank you for the sandwich."
After breakfast, Wednesday, I had settled into the sofa with my book - now finished but for the final chapter put off that I might enjoy the process of reading the scandalous thing but for one more day - when there was a knock at the door.
"Miss Moore, could you get the door?" Lt. Smith called from the kitchen, where he stood, bent over the sink, cleaning the breakfast dishes. Irritated, I tossed the book onto the cushion next to mine and opened the door, expecting the broad face of Mr. Kitt to greet me with his customary "Good Morning Miss Moore!" - I was startled to see, instead, a freckle faced young man instead, waiting with an envelope.
"Good day ma'am, I have a telegram for a Miss Philomena Moore." he announced.
"I am she." I answered, taking the envelope handed me. "Thank you. If you would remain a moment?" The young man nodded. He resembled Henry Marshall - I silently wondered if he might be a younger brother or cousin as I tore open the letter.
Miss Moore stop
I have been unable to locate Miss Chapman in Bletchley stop
Will return to Worthing on the evening train stop
Bond stop
PS: Do be careful stop
Do be careful. Always with the warnings as though I were merely a child playing at being a detective. But he had not been able to locate the sister... A thought, one that had sat on the edge of my consciousness only hinting at its contents, decided now was its moment to be known,
"I need to post a telegraph to Bletchley immediately, how far is it to the nearest telegraph station?"
"I can take your message." the young man offered.
"No, I'm afraid there is no time. Please, take me there at once." I could only hope the message would arrive before he left Bletchley. If my hunch was correct then, while I might not know who the murderer was, I was almost positive who he wasn't.
Wednesday came and went with no sign of Roger though it did bring a good deal of rain in the evening that arrived all sound and fury but cleared to a trickle by nightfall. I stared out the window, beaded with raindrops, at the streetlamp haloed by the moist air. With any luck he had gotten my message. The night felt pregnant with the promise of his return - as though the whole world were waiting on the coming moment when suspicion became fact. I stretched and tucked myself into the little bed, allowing the sound of the rain to lull me to sleep.
The morning arrived with a brightness suggesting the sun intended to make up for its absence the evening before. A mist hung about the town as Lt. Smith and I caught the early train to Arundel. We spent the morning touring the castle and its grounds. It was the library which captured my imagination - it was a magnificent room, well appointed, with hundreds of books distributed over its two stories. It felt smaller than my own beloved sanctuary at Greenmoor Commons - for how little he made use of it, Father was adamant that our house should have the finest library in the county; a lost cause when against the Duke's vast literary caverns but a noble goal nonetheless in my view - yet, I found the coziness of it appealing. Lt. Smith found he had rather a challenging task to move me along to the next rooms. We walked the gardens well into the afternoon with little conversation between us for he was so taken by the Edenesque surroundings he seemed more content to enjoy them in silence rather than distract from any part of them by frivolous talk. We took a coach into the town just south of the castle for an early supper, a tiny shore side locale known as Littlehampton (an apt name, if unimaginative). As the sky began to pale with the evening we took a stroll out on the beach to the shore. Lt. Smith took a seat on the sand and watched, a bemused smile on his lips as I combed the sand for seashells to bring home for Elizabeth and Avery. Finally, certain I had enough, I sat down beside the black haired man, "Well, I believe that shall be enough to satisfy my siblings." I remarked. He held out his hand and I passed a few to him that he might see them, he turned them over one by one, examining them,
"It a fine collection, they should be well pleased."
"Does your daughter collect seashells?"
"She did when she was young, I suspect most girls do. She and her mother would often go to the shore in the early morning hours and return with pockets full of them - she was so proud of her collection! Brigid would go through them with her for hours choosing all the very best ones - then they'd line those up on the bookshelves, or windowsills - where ever space might be found. After her mother died, she stopped going to the shore." he finished sadly.
"When did she pass?"
"Sixteen years this April. There has never been a day since I haven't thought of her or our son. She liked the name William for him - Bill, after her father. She always wanted a house full of children, like the one she grew up in." he stared out at the horizon, watching the waves rise and fall for some time before he spoke again. "I've run through that night hundreds of times in my head, wondering what I might have done differently that she might have lived. The doctor assured me time and again there was nothing, it was the Lord's will, simple enough. I never blamed Him for it - the curse of humanity is that we will die. But for a year I found I had no will to speak to Him beyond formality but for when I was with my daughter. She was His gift to me - without her need of me I would have sunk into despair. I think she felt she needed to be strong for me - she never cried that first year but for when she thought I could not hear late at night, after we had said our prayers; and then never after that but on the rare occasion. I wish I could have done better by her that she would not have felt the need to put so much weight on shoulders far too narrow for such burdens. I fear I forced her to be too strong too young - but then, perhaps that was the Lord's intention for it is that very same strength that has borne her through the trials of our mission field. She relies only on God to fortify her in her faith. I can rest in the knowledge that when I'm gone she won't fall away, having only leaned on my faith instead of forming her own. There are times I regret bringing her into the Salvation Army - especially now with all the danger. And she, of all people, would merrily carry the banner into certain death singing all along. Had I only stayed in the regular ministry she would only concern herself with charity baskets and visits to the widows and spinsters. But I could not ignore the call of the Lord - and for my calling my family has come under fire in the war. And we are discouraged, we have lost the battle - but I trust, if we continue to fight, we will win the war. God will never allow his servants to be beaten, even where they are cut down He sows the seed that sprouts a thousand fold. I trust in him."
"But you fear for your daughter."
"I have lately buried four women who were daughters as well." he paused for a moment. "But we were so close to victory. If we could have just held out a month more. Maybe two at most. Perhaps..." I laid my hand gently on his shoulder, he met my gaze - I could see the compassion of my own countenance reflected in his spectacles. "Your parents must miss you a great deal."
"On the contrary, I believe they are relieved to be rid of me. I am nothing more than a burden to them." tears welled in my eyes - I had not intended them to but the sheer moment of the truth brought them forth threatening to topple over the brink. Lt. Smith wrapped his arm about my shoulders and pulled me close so that my head rested against his shoulder,
"Listen to me, you are not a burden. You are a beloved child of God and any man or woman would be fortunate to have you as a daughter. Never forget that." He said, pulling me to him tightly. "Never forget it." In my entire lifetime, so far back as I could recall, never had such words been uttered in my regard. I rested my head against the stalwart man's shoulder,
"Thank you." I mumbled. We remained in that aspect for sometime, nary a movement nor word between us, as the sun sunk low toward the sea.
George and I did not return to the house until well after moonrise. As we approached the door framed by the warm glow of the windows, something about the pleasant scene struck me as unusual. It only took a moment to realize what the oddity was, "George, did you leave a lamp on?" I inquired, less out of belief that he had than to alert him.
"No, perhaps it is Mr. Kitt come by." or perhaps not. Cautiously, I opened the door, hoping beyond hope it was Roger - though how I might explain his presence I could not begin to fathom. Sitting, arms sprawled across the wooden frame of the sofa, was Mr. Hartnett.
"Good evening, George, Miss Moore." he said, his voice more oily than I cared for.
"Good evening Mr. Harnett." George replied stiffly - what was that I glimpsed in his eye as he spoke to the cadet? A fury I had never before seen in the man, never believed him even capable of. "What brings you to my house this evening?"
"I had hoped to speak with you regarding the repairs to the barracks."
"You might have waited until the meeting, tomorrow."
"Yes, but I did hope to once again see the charming, Miss Moore." he stretched, pulling himself to his full height from the sofa. "But finding neither of you home, I felt it my duty to make certain no one disturbed the place while you were out." He approached George, towering over the lieutenant by a full head, he drew in close enough to almost be whispering in his ear; "You know, you really should lock your door - especially in these troubled times."
"I'll take note of your suggestion." George answered through gritted teeth. Then Hartnett turned his attention to me,
"It is lovely to see you again, Miss Moore."
"Thank you, Mr. Hartnett."
"I thought we agreed it was to be Kenneth." Though I could no longer see his expression, I witnessed the pool of red beginning to grow at the base of George's neck. I nodded. "You can say it." he goaded.
"Thank you, Mr. Hartnett." I repeated. His eyes flashed with offense,
"Anyhow, you've had a letter." he said coolly, producing an envelope with the neat, sloping handwriting I recognized as Roger's. "I'll be off, then. It's quite late. We'll have to discuss the plans tomorrow. Goodnight." Placing his hat on his head, he handed the letter to me as he sauntered out the door into the night. I shut it behind as George continued to stand as one paralyzed, the knuckles of his fists, still hanging stiffly at his side, white.
"I would recommend you avoid Mr. Hartnett in the future." George said, still not turning from his place.
"Why?" I probed, he turned to me, his face still flushed from the encounter eyes wild with some emotion I could not wholly name for it seemed at war with others equally strong,
"I'd ask you just listen to me." He had never before spoken so forcefully to me on any matter - what was so important that he felt the need to order me to stay away from Hartnett; what did he know about the man? I nodded. His shoulders slackened at my agreement, "I'll be turning in for the evening. Goodnight, Miss Moore." he said warily, shuffling off toward the staircase.
"Mina." He turned, surprised,
"I beg your pardon?" My face burnt as I repeated it,
"Mina, it is what my friends call me. If you like," I swallowed the lump which had formed in my throat. "If you like, you may call me by that name as well." He exhaled a short laugh, allowing the slight curve of a smile,
"And you may call me George, if it suits you. Goodnight, Mina." he replied, disappearing up the stair.
"Goodnight, George." I whispered behind when I heard the door shut. Oh! The letter! I had almost forgotten it was still in my hands. I quickly rent the envelope and extracted the paper reading the tidy writing within,
Dear Miss Moore,
I arrived in Worthing this afternoon. I was able to procure the item you requested. If you are able, please meet me at the cafe on Montague tomorrow afternoon.
Regards,
James Bond, Esq.
Naturally, he could not do me the small favor of naming the cafe. But then, if the letter were to be intercepted it would be harder for one not familiar with Roger to recognize him, whereas I could spot the man in an instant. If the letter were to be intercepted that was... Hartnett! I turned the envelope over to where it had been sealed. There wax appeared in tact; I drew the envelope closer. No... there was something amiss... the wax at the edge of the seal was more thinly spread, as if it had been remelted to the envelope in order to conceal where the wax had been slit from the paper. My heart began to rush - what had Harnett meant about opening my personal correspondence? To the average person it would appear not unlike a business transaction - albeit a strange one; but to one man... could Hartnett be that man? And if he were not what could possibly be his game?
