Summary: Robert Townsend's one condition to Culper was that his father be his courier, but after the Queen's Rangers leave Samuel Townsend unable to make the trips into York City, Margot Risdon steps up in his stead. His spywork becomes more complicated when she enters his life with her mischievous smiles and silver words, but the more infuriating she is, the harder he falls.
Warning: This story doesn't have a strong plot or a purpose for existing besides the fact that Robert has the best deadpan stare ever and it makes me happy. This is entirely the result of writer's block/an attempt at getting rid of said block. Approach with care.
Because I have already finished writing this story, there will be regular weekly updates every Tuesday and Friday.
Side note to readers who are waiting for updates on Regimentum, yes I know, I am committing an atrocity by posting a new story instead of updating my current one. All I can say is that this story, short as it is, took me months to write and has been the fodder for my writer's block, so please be gentle with me. I will be continuing Regimentum once my creativity is flowing again. To give a proper update: I have spent the last few months planning out the various layers of the VCU timeline as it pertains to other side stories and the manner in which they link up to the remaining seasons of Vivicendium. It's only a matter of time before I return to the mammoth project that I have created for myself and have in no way given up on it. I know it seems like I have, hence my desire to reiterate that. I'm just going through a very long moment where my creativity is blocked up and doesn't want to work with me.
On that note, I hope you all enjoy this story :)
Chapter One | An Infuriating Creature
Rivington's Corner is not an establishment much frequented by women. It is, first and foremost, a coffeehouse, where officers of His Majesty's Army come to exchange opinions and meet with their fellows. This assortment of patrons had been the reason why Robert Townsend had agreed to partner with James Rivington in the first place. Lord knows that he wouldn't have been able to put up with him otherwise. The man is ridiculous, but the clientele makes it worth the trouble. Information is easily gathered once the drink begins to flow, and with Rivington's newspaper, the Royal Gazette, being operated in the basement, it is a simple thing to send signals out whenever there is intelligence to pass along. But back to the plot at hand: Rivington's Corner is not much frequented by women, which is precisely why Robert Townsend is so surprised when he first meets Miss Margot Risdon.
He sees her first in the dull light of late afternoon, standing just outside the window of the coffeehouse. He takes little more than a passing glance at her from his outpost behind the counter, for there is much work to be done and with Rivington gesticulating flamboyantly with several British officers by the table near the hearth, it's clear enough that Robert is in charge of conducting the actual business. That isn't to say that Rivington isn't conducting business of his own, of course, even as he laughs uproariously at something one of the officers had said. The man is a journalist, sniffing out gossip wherever he can find it, and Robert is well aware that this is precisely what is happening even now. Rivington likes to call it 'additional work, my stiff-necked friend', which Robert finds somewhat deplorable. After all, Rivington has a habit of skewing the truth wherever possible to sell as many copies of his Gazette as he can.
In any case, the sight of the woman standing outside of the establishment is hardly something to take notice of. This is a fine neighborhood, courtesy of its proximity to the fashionable shops of Coin Street, and so all sorts of people come and go upon its sidewalks. Robert barely notices her at all, for he's rather busy preparing several glasses of madeira for a group of awaiting soldiers and keeping his eyes out for anything that might be of interest to Culper. This is his routine these days; to feign monotony whilst harboring the treasonous conspiracies of spycraft. And besides, being the sort of man who rarely has occasion or desire to speak with members of the fairer sex, Robert Townsend is frankly disinterested in taking notice of her at all. When she steps into Rivington's Corner, though, he is unfortunately unable to maintain this disinterest.
He sees her next standing just within the establishment in a pool of that late afternoon sun, and this time he takes a second glance because it is somewhat rare to see a woman enter a coffeehouse filled with soldiers. The social climate of such places does not necessitate or even welcome their coming. Coffeehouses are, so to speak, firmly rooted in the man's world, and despite himself, he finds himself somewhat curious to know what her purpose is by entering it.
He studies her from the corner of his eye, feigning monotony. Upon first glance, she appears to represent many things that Robert Townsend happens to dislike. His Quaker upbringing balks at the finery she wears: the handsome green of her dress and the polished style of her mahogany hair, which seems to have taken a tedious and unnecessary amount of time to construct. Likewise, his standoffish nature frowns upon her bold entrance into a place where women ought not venture. He furthermore does not appreciate the effect that her presence has on the clientele, who pause in their conversations to look over at her. It is not necessarily inappropriate for a lady to enter here, especially at this hour of the day. Rivington's Corner is, after all, a boarding house as well. Still, there are a great many other establishments in York City that are far more befitting of a young woman, which is precisely why her entrance draws peoples' eyes. If there is one thing Robert Townsend loathes, it is attention of any sort. Unfortunately for him, he is about to receive quite a lot of said attention, because when the woman raises her head and catches his eye from across the room, she purposefully steps towards him.
He glances down to hurriedly finish pouring the madeira, hoping to make himself busy and put off having to inquire into her presence. The soldiers' eyes are already following her across the room even as their conversations start up again, and Rivington is looking at her curiously as he takes a long sip of his coffee.
"I'd like a glass of French Raspberry Brandy, if you would," the woman murmurs upon reaching the counter, and Robert pauses.
French Raspberry Brandy. Something is strange about her request, and it isn't only because she's used the signal that he himself uses whenever sending coded messages to the Continental army. When he looks up at her, there is something in her eyes that makes him stiffen; some spark of subtle knowing that he cannot ignore. Still, he makes no move to show that he had understood her words as he reaches for a clean glass and pours her a drink, thinking instead that this is far more likely to be a fluke. After all, his advertisements in Rivington's Gazette reach the entire city. This hopeful assumption quickly vanishes, however, when James Rivington himself approaches of her, smiling amicably.
"A lady!" he exclaims with his usual flamboyant energy, and takes her hand to press an excited kiss to it. "What good fortune has arrived upon our doorstep this day, would you not agree, Robert? I'm afraid we get mainly men in here," he adds, leaning in to jest, "and it is quite a nice change to see some different clientele."
The woman laughs and then, quite suddenly, reaches over to take Robert's hand where it lays atop the counter. He startles upon the touch, having not expected it. After all, he has never met this woman before in his life.
"You're too kind. Mr. Rivington, was it? Robert has told me all about you," the woman says, casting a glance over at Robert, who is now watching her hawkishly. He looks faintly confused, but his confusion disappears when she says, "One of our mutual friends told me that I could find him here."
The look the unknown woman sends him, then, dispels all doubts he had previously had. She could only be referring to Culper, which naturally means that she is a spy. Why is she here, though, in York City, surrounded by British officers and speaking directly to him? Well, that is a mystery for which he will most certainly get to get to the bottom of. He narrows his eyes just so at her, distrust flaring through them.
Rivington, on the other hand, looks delighted. "So you've come to see Robert, have you?" he asks, his voice verging on sly. A quick glance is cast towards his business partner, who is standing straight and stiff as he stares the woman down with a small frown.
This is most irregular. His father is his courier. It was one of his conditions in agreeing to become a spy. Whatever business this woman has here should be dealt with quickly; he has ventured one step too far into the Culper ring for this woman to ruin everything.
The woman smiles widely at Robert, who frowns back, and simpers, "Yes, Robert and I are childhood friends. We grew up together in Oyster Bay, and when I heard he was in the city, I had to come and see him."
She squeezes his hand in a way that looks fond, ardent even, and he pulls it back to return to pouring her drink, displeasure crowding his eyes as he hears her fabricated story. What is her purpose here? Why is she pretending as if they've known each other all their lives, when in fact they are only just now meeting? He is the only one who seems displeased, though. Rivington looks positively gleeful, and it doesn't take a genius to know why. Besides possessing a frankly unhealthy love of gossip, the man is constantly trying to discover whether his Quaker business partner is indeed as stiff-necked as he outwardly appears. To hear that he has a woman in his life (however recent, mind) is something he takes great interest in.
"Childhood friends, you say?" Rivington wonders with a wide smirk. "You never mentioned her, Robert. Oh, I'm terribly sorry, I never asked your name, my dear."
The woman is quick to respond, "Margot Risdon. A pleasure, Mr. Rivington. I fear you may be seeing me quite a bit from now on." She casts a surreptitious glance at Robert, who clenches his jaw as if he's daring her to continue her charade. The dare is, apparently, accepted, for the corner of her mouth twitches into a slight smirk.
"Oh?" Rivington prompts, looking between them.
Margot smiles, "Yes indeed. I have family in York City, you see. A sick cousin. I'll be making frequent trips into the city to check on her, and perhaps I'll stop by your coffeehouse while I'm here…"
She turns her smile to Robert, who is still staring her down from across the counter. His displeasure is now barely evident in his face, but his eyes are still flashing with it. His standoffish expressions are enough to keep most people at bay, but this woman only smiles happily back and doesn't appear to be at all put off. Naturally, this only makes him even more displeased.
"We would absolutely love to have you, my dear," Rivington exclaims. Then, in a conspiratorial voice, he says, "I must admit, I am quite surprised to hear that you know Robert. He is notoriously disinterested in women, it seems, which makes it all the more surprising to know that he has the acquaintance of such a lovely creature!"
At this, Robert can't hold his tongue any longer. He casts an annoyed glance at Rivington and stiffly says, "As usual, you are reading too far into this. As Miss Risdon said, we are childhood friends." He looks back at her, eyes flashing.
Margot simpers at him in return. "Indeed. Before I forget, Robert, your father sends his regards. He regrets that he won't be able to visit you in the near future due to his injuries. If you would like me to pass on a message for you, it would be no trouble to stop by his farm upon my return trip."
He very nearly scoffs aloud at this, reading between the lines of her words. As if he would pass along a message when he doesn't even know this woman. He wasn't told to expect her. Culper never informed him that there would be a change in plans. He won't trust any of his gathered intelligence to someone he has only just met, without first verifying that she is indeed who she says she is. Civilian or not, if he's caught spying on the British, his fate is the noose.
She watches his jaw clench tightly and smiles wider, as if she's reading all of these thoughts as they pass through his eyes. He doesn't much like the knowing way she's looking at him or the mischief that unfurls within her eyes as she witnesses his silent struggle.
After a long pause, Robert grits out, "Tell me, how is Abraham? It's been some time since I saw him."
Margot lifts an eyebrow, studying him silently for a long moment before smoothly responding, "He is doing quite well. He had wanted to come here himself, but York City doesn't much agree with him these days."
She smiles pleasantly, and Robert's eyebrow twitches just so. Doesn't much agree with him? This woman has nerve, he'll give her that.
"And does he know that you will be making trips into the city? Surely, he would not wish for you to travel alone," he says, hoping to better understand what is going on without having to outright ask her. Rivington is still overseeing the conversation, looking back and forth curiously and with growing interest.
"On the contrary, he is very pleased that I am able to visit my dear cousin whenever I have time to spare," the woman calmly returns.
Robert is mulling over a response to this, selecting his words carefully, when Rivington lets out a great laugh and wonders, "Who is Abraham, hmm? A suitor that has made Robert crow with jealousy?" He looks as if he very much wishes that this were so, which rankles his business partner to the point of Robert sending a narrowed look his way, momentarily breaking the inflexible stare directed at the woman before him.
Margot opens her mouth to respond, but Robert cuts in with a firm, "Her husband," hoping to derail Rivington of his obvious assumptions. Unfortunately, it doesn't entirely work.
Rivington's eyebrows raise into his hairline. "My, my," he murmurs, and looks at Robert with a new light. Robert has no idea why, until Rivington smirks widely and coyly says, "And I suppose this husband of yours has no idea you're here visiting Robert, does he? Worry not, my dear, I shall keep your secret safe. I knew my fine Quaker friend wasn't as devout as he first appears!"
Margot's eyes widen in surprise, but it quickly fades to intense amusement. She turns to look at Robert with mischief flashing through her eyes, all the more amused at his rattled expression. He seems quite taken aback at Rivington's supposition.
"I'm afraid Robert is incorrect, Mr. Rivington," Margot laughingly informs him, "I am not married yet."
She makes no mention of whether she is about to be, however, keeping at least some of Robert's claim intact. Regardless, it certainly has Mr. Rivington smirking ever wider as he glances over at Robert's annoyed face.
"Oh, I see, I see, you wish to make the most of your freedom while you still can," he murmurs. "Perhaps you should take your afternoon break, Robert. Enjoy the company of your…friend."
Margot bites the inside of her cheek to keep her laughter at bay as she watches Robert Townsend's expression. He looks as if he is on the fence about accepting Rivington's suggestion so as to interrogate her properly and refusing it so as to ensure that his reputation remains solid.
Before he can make up his mind, Rivington reaches over to take the tray of madeira wine that Robert had been preparing and says, "Please, come and visit Robert whenever you're in town, Miss Risdon. We will be happy to receive you. We will keep a room for you whenever you're in the area."
Robert very much looks as if he'd like to argue this point, but Rivington is already sweeping off to deliver the madeira with a surprising amount of grace for someone with such a large stature, and any arguments of this nature will simply have to wait. However, arguments of another nature need not wait, and he is quick to turn back to the woman with another narrowed look and say, "Shall we speak privately, Miss Risdon?"
The woman smiles calmly at him and only responds, "You ought to call me Margot, Robert. We are childhood friends, after all."
The annoyed flash of his eyes upon hearing her impertinent words only appear to amuse her all the more. He, however, is not amused at all, and he certainly doesn't hide this once they step into an empty guest room and shut the door behind them. He knows better than to bring her to his own room. Rivington is doubtlessly going to follow them up to see if he can sniff out anymore gossip, the lout.
"Explain," Robert stiffly demands the moment he closes the door behind them. The guest room that he had chosen is currently in the middle of being cleaned. The bed is stripped and the desk in need of tidying, not yet righted in preparation for its next visitor.
Margot Risdon pauses in the center of the room and looks around the space curiously as she calmly says, "There's nothing to explain, really. I'll be your new courier until your father is feeling well enough to make the trips into the city. Until then, I will come whenever you signal and I'll bring your intelligence directly to Mr. Culper."
She glances over at him when he doesn't immediately respond, only to find him staring at her, still looking quite distrustful. This time, though, there is also an edge of fear in his eyes. Abe had told her that Townsend was a bit skittish and that he wasn't sure if a new courier would scare him off. Still, Samuel Townsend, Robert's father, is currently recuperating from his wounds at the hands of the Queen's Rangers, and Abe's is not in an ideal position to be making frequent trips to Oyster Bay to meet with Samuel Townsend. The careful chain of agents has gone a bit haywire on the York City end, which is precisely why Margot is here to begin with.
The way it usually works is like this: Robert Townsend, stationed in York City, purchases an advertisement in Rivington's Gazette whenever he has information to pass along. His father, Samuel Townsend, looks for the advertisement in the newspaper and travels into the city whenever he sees it. Robert passes the information to his father, who returns to his farm in Oyster Bay until Abe is able to ride to his house to collect the intelligence. Abe, who is Culper, then takes the information and has Anna signal to Caleb, who crosses Long Island Sound in order to collect it from Abe. Caleb then takes the information directly to General Washington's camp, wherever it might be, and on to Benjamin Tallmadge, the Continental Head of Intelligence.
With Samuel Townsend unfit to make the trip into York City, however, and Abe unable to travel to the Townsend farm with the same liberties as he once did, a new strategy had to be worked out. As far as Margot knows, it is only a temporary one until Samuel is well enough. Still, for now at least, Samuel will be cut out of the York City line entirely and Margot will deliver the intelligence directly to Abe. From there, it will pass to Caleb and onto Ben.
Once she explains this, Robert doesn't look too pleased.
"My one condition was that my father would be my courier," he hisses, keeping his voice quiet in case Rivington is, indeed, sneaking around upstairs, hoping to find out if they really are having an affair like he had assumed.
Margot sends him an exasperated look. "Robert – "
"Mr. Townsend," Robert immediately corrects. They certainly don't know each other well enough to refer to each other by name, at least in private. Though now that she's delivered her ridiculous tale about them being childhood friends, he supposes he won't be able to stop her from calling him by his Christian name in public.
She sighs. "Mr. Townsend. I have a solid alibi. My cousin really does live in York City. There is no one else to deliver your messages, at least not until your father is well enough to take up his courier duties once more. It will only be for a short while."
This isn't good enough for Robert, though. "And when you suddenly stop coming? What will I tell Rivington when you cease your trips to the tavern?"
She raises an eyebrow at him. "Since you were trying so hard to convince him that there is nothing between us, tell him that Abraham and I have settled down and my martial duties keep me busy."
Her tone is just sarcastic enough to make him nearly quirk a smile. Nearly, mind you.
He turns to look at her. The hawkish stare that he has long perfected still seems to have little effect on her, for she only waits patiently and stares back, head tilted just so. Finally, after several long moments of this, he grumbles, "I wasn't told of this. I should be informed when plans change."
She lifts her eyebrows at him.
"Why do you think I'm here, Mr. Townsend? Our man at headquarters wanted me to take a look at your new establishment and update you on the proceedings."
He casts her a perturbed glance. "But to claim to be childhood friends? I know nothing about you. I fail to see how we could convince Rivington that we have known each other all our lives."
Margot just simpers quietly at him and crosses the room to put a hand on his shoulder. "Leave that to me, Mr. Townsend. I can be quite convincing."
And, though he would rather not leave it to her, given everything that's at stake should they be discovered, Robert finds himself grudgingly agreeing. After all, what choice does he have? Come hell or high water, he is Samuel Culper Jr., and he is now an integral part of this revolution.