Chapter 5
Jules arrived at Whitehall at four o'clock in the afternoon. He had no idea why he had been taken into custody off the ferry.
He is an agent, Jules thought at first sight. I've seen enough of them over the last year to know a Secret Service agent when I see one.
He was led to a coach, not a hired one, but an expensive fast sort, that carried important people around. Jules stepped into the coach and sat, riding in silence beside the agent who never introduced himself of offered any explanation.
Jules glanced at his companion as he arrived at the train station. Non-descript, middling height with medium brown hair and a common shade of brown eyes. Nothing to separate him from a crowd of people. Would I remember him after so many hours of traveling together? No, I doubt I would even notice him.
Once in London, Jules's escort took Jules to another coach, straight into the old city and Whitehall. On entering the building, Verne was led up the main stairs to an office. Sir Jonathan Chatsworth, who he had met only a few times before, sat at a desk. Rebecca was there too, looking down at her hands in a ridged pose that did not bode well for whoever had angered her.
After Chatsworth greeted him, Rebecca looked up, giving Verne a smile that wouldn't have fooled anyone who knew her. Oh yes, Rebecca is mad as hell at someone. I hope to heaven it isn't me.
"I trust you had a pleasant passage, Monsieur Verne," Chatsworth said, offering him the chair near Rebecca.
"Thank you for coming along with agent Jones so amiably, and congratulations on your honor in studying at Cambridge," Chatsworth said. "I'm sure the escort was a shock to you. There are explanations due. The League of Darkness is reportedly stepping up some of its activities in France. As your government does not see fit to act on the threat, and as you are usually targeted, I have taken steps to see you protected while here."
"You believe they were planning to take me while I traveled?" Verne asked.
"No," Chatsworth clarified, "I doubt the League even knows you have left France. When they do, however, they will find you in a place far more difficult to remove you from than your residence in Paris."
Jules nodded. "Thank you for the consideration."
Chatsworth nodded acceptance. "While you are in London, you will be in the Fogg's care. At Cambridge, Miss Fogg will watch over you and other students. And that, I am sure, will give the League a pause."
"Thank you," Jules said again, surprised that anyone, let alone a foreign country's intelligence official, considered him important enough to protect so thoroughly.
"While you are here," Chatsworth continued, "I was hoping you could be of help to us with a small matter."
"Help you?" Verne said, lightly frowning.
"The assignment Rebecca will be on is a simple matter of keeping track of two young American students who are starting divinity studies," Chatsworth said. "Keeping up with them on campus will be a simple matter for her, but off campus, that will be more of a problem. Simply put, Rebecca will not blend into extra-curricular activities, and we could use someone younger who could befriend these young men. There is no danger in the matter. If you are willing, a chance meeting here in London could be arranged."
"I just befriend these students and join them off campus?" Jules said.
"That's all," Chatsworth said, giving him a small smile. "Now, I know your circumstances may not be up to some entertainments that might be required, so you will have an expense fund put at your disposal." Chatsworth pulled an envelope out of his desk and handed it across the desk to Verne. "This will do for a start. If you need more, Rebecca will provide it to you. Thank you for your time, Monsieur Verne."
Sir Jonathan stood, shook hands with Jules and nodded for Rebecca to see him out.
Jules was out the door and down the stairs, being led away before he could fully take in what had just happened.
Rebecca knew exactly what had just happened and did not like it one bit. Jules's goodness and innocence had just been thoroughly taken advantage of.
To my knowledge, there had been no stepping up of League activity in France or anywhere else. Decapitated, since we did away with Count Gregory, the remnants of the League are reorganizing or disintegrating. That song and dance had been played to make Jules feel obligated. At least Chatsworth had the decency to give Verne the funds to keep up this charade. Of course, he didn't mention what entertainments Jules will be expected to attend.
So far, the young Americans were found fond of drinking, gambling, women and occasionally brawling. Lord–Jules isn't a nineteen-year-old. He doesn't make a habit of fighting or gambling. Does he even know how? As for wine and women… Last I knew, he was innocent of the latter.
A voice called out to her, loud and insistent, breaking into her inner tirade. "Rebecca… Rebecca?"
She came back to the present four blocks from Whitehall with Jules catching at her elbow, looking at her as if she might turn on him. She bit back her anger with Chatsworth and put on a calmer face. "I am sorry, Jules. This situation is awkward for me; that is all. I didn't want to involve you in this."
"I am more than willing to help you with anything; you know that," Jules said.
That assurance just made Rebecca feel worse for it. She gave up the fight for the moment and steeled herself to be better company. "Phileas is waiting for us. His is quite eager to hear about this honor of yours. Let's find a carriage."
Jules flagged down a hackney for them. A moment later, they were on their way to Savile Row.