P & P

Hidden in Plain Sight

Previously:

It needed to be done as soon as possible, if not Mr. Hurst was right he was in mortal danger going up there—maybe even Miss Kitty for—if James was correct—she would be picking up on things without having proper context in which to understand the information. That could put her in grave danger.

Death of a Rat and An Evening Party

Ch. 11

The prison cell was a stark, cold space, with rough stone walls that seemed to close in on the Lieutenant-Colonel as he sat in Sovereign's Military Prison. His only light came from a small, barred window high up on one wall, casting long shadows across a damp floor which was just as just as cold as the air around him.

Every time the man breathed it was as mildew and acrid scent of unwashed bodies filled his nose. Frank sat on a narrow, wooden cot with a thin, straw-filled mattress. It had been placed against one of the walls and gave him little comfort. Iron shackles worn around his ankles, were also bolted to the wall, a grim reminder to the military officer of the cell's purpose.

Frank looked up and could see the heavy, iron-bound door with a small, barred opening at eye level. He knew a guard would be peering soon to pass his last meal. He was convinced the oppressive atmosphere was designed to break the men's spirit, leaving people like him with little hope of escape or comfort.

Once again heels of boots could head echoing off floors going down hallways. Only this time they were they did not sound like the steps of his normal guard and Frank sat straight up. Had the law decided to bypass his last meal? Or had someone actually convinced the law to let him go? His hopes rose only to be dashed against the rocks when both Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. MacDonald, he did not know James Hurst by any other name than MacDonald, stepped into his cell.

He would not have recognized Mr. MacDonald, who had hair, but the man was wearing a hat which covered most of it, and those glaring eyes? No one in his position forgot those eyes.

"So, you thought to send men after me while I was on vacation." Mr. MacDonald's voice was so cold it cut through Frank's skin without touching it. "Instead, the men you sent are now dead."

"You have it things all wrong." Frank attempted to defend himself giving reasons he could not possibly be behind the two men who had chased Mr. MacDonald at the race tracks; that was his big mistake.

"No one told you about those tracks." The colonel spoke before the newly appointed special agent could. "You have a chance to be sent to Australia instead of hanging, if you tell us who gave you orders to pass on governmental information."

"I am a dead man either way, especially if what Mr. MacDonald just said is true." Frank scowled. "Hang me, I am not handing out that name, I am better off dead than trying to get to Australia."

"Have it your way."

James stepped out of the cell after watching the lieutenant-colonel being hauled off. He had hoped for a name. If he was to be the newest member of a group of unofficial lawmen attempting to find the chancellor's grandson, it would have been great to know just how big of a show was being run.

"Now to go talk to Ashford." Richard walked up to James. "Do you think we should tell him your real name?" The look of 'You really think he has not found it out by now? Just how stupid are you' got the colonel to quickly change his tune. "Guess that was not the smartest thing to come out of my mouth."

"You think?"

"Sometimes?"

That set both men to laughing and they headed down the streets of London towards Parliament. "I really am sorry, Mr. MacDonald." Richard figured he might as well call James Hurst by his fake name since he was now working for the chancellor, and they were heading that way. "Do we need to stop anywhere before we see Lord Ashford?"

"In other words, we need to find a room and shave most of my hair off, to look like I did before I arrived at Netherfield."

The men found a private room and changed James' looks. Going back into public it was amazing how many people who had seen him an hour ago, did not recognize him. That was clear by them asking Richard to introduce them to his new friend. 'Mr. MacDonald's' voice did not give him away as James had not lost his ability to sound as if he were born in the Highlands and, while speaking clear English, spoke with a heavy Scottish accent with only a trace of an English one left behind.

"How you do that is beyond me." Richard whispered after a couple left and they turned and began walking up a stoneway towards the fountain of Lord Ashford's home.

"Speaking with a Scottish accent is not as hard as ye might think."

The men had intended to talk to Lord Chancelor only he was not home, so they opted to go to a restaurant known for its superb dinners, parties and other such gatherings. Richard and Miss Jane had meet up and Mr. MacDonald -as expected- went solo. It had not made the colonel happy. He had hoped the newest member could at least come up with some sort of cover this time around.

The trio stepped into the bustling restaurant in Bath, where the air was filled with the enticing aroma of freshly baked bread and roasted meats. The establishment was alive with the sounds of clinking glasses, lively conversation, and the occasional burst of laughter. Patrons sat at elegantly set tables, enjoying their meals and engaging in animated discussions.

In one corner, a small group of musicians played a cheerful tune, prompting a few couples to rise and dance gracefully across the polished wooden floor. Colonel Fitzwilliam, Miss Jane, and Mr. MacDonald found a cozy table near the large windows, which offered a splendid view of the bustling street outside. As they settled into their seats, they were greeted by the warm smiles of the staff, who promptly brought them menus and took their orders. The atmosphere was one of conviviality and joy, with friends and strangers alike sharing in the evening's merriment.

James had chosen his seat on the outside isle. He had done so as to make it easier to get out of the room if necessary. There was no nothing coming in which had caused him to think that would be the case. However; it did not take long for the hair on the back of his neck to rise.

It was not the sight of Colonel and Mrs. Forester, or even Miss Bennet with them, that raised his alarm. It was not the trio talking that caused him unease. They were simply standing near window talking. So, no, seeing the three talking set no bells off. It was seeing a gentleman who was unfortunate to have pockmarks left by past blemishes marred by what would have been an otherwise smooth complexion heading their way. The man was looking straight at Kitty.

Wasting no time, Mr. MacDonald got up and walked over to Miss Bennet just as the Foresters had stepped away, and just before the one he knew as Mr. Greenstead could opened his mouth. Jame hoped the lady was as wise as she was observant. There was no way anyone could convince him that she missed what others had at Netherfield. He just hoped Miss Bennet would not miss things now; even if he could not explain his actions.

"Miss Bennet. I do apologize fer being late. My work took longer to wrap up than I thought it would. I hope our dinner date is still on?" His Scottish accent, not to mention haircut, had drastically altered his appearance and sound; if it had been Lydia in front of him there would have been manure flying everywhere. However, even though Kitty was absolutely confused; she showed no signs of it.

"I believe it still can be kept." Kitty smiled for one good reason; the other gentleman made her skin crawl and, clearly, this other gentleman was offering her a way out. Plus, there was something oddly familiar about the one offering her a reason to stay away from the creepy looking fellow. The other man hid his scowl and turned away- but not before Kitty caught sight of the change in his face. It gave her the shivers and at the same time it dawned on her who was standing next to her.

"Mr. Hurst?" She whispered low. "Why are you talking with a Scottish accent and why no hair?"

"The name's MacDonald and for both our sakes, do not mention the other." James grew alarmed, he knew Kitty Bennet was more observant than her sisters, but even he had not thought she would pick up on who he was so quickly. "We need to talk." He spoke just as the Forester's returned and persuaded the couple to join his table for dinner. Thankfully, they agreed as the other gentleman had never really quit watching Miss Bennet. As if doubting she was with 'that' old man. An illusion created by James' new hair cut.