Page 2 of Snowbound with the Scoundrel
“Why would I want to draw the notice of a man?”Clarissa had asked Lady Francesca, who understood.“Ipreferto blend into the wallpaper.Although perhaps my drab dresses are a little too effective in this regard.You would be astonished at the things I overhear sometimes.People don’t even realize that I’m standing beside them.”
Clarissa would never forget the way her friend’s spine had gone ramrod straight.Glancing about to make sure they were alone, Lady Francesca had asked, “Have I ever told you about my Great-Aunt Winnifred?”
What Lady Francesca had proceeded to explain was that spies did not look the way they were portrayed in novels.A dashing young army officer in a red coat would draw every eye in the room and arouse every suspicion as well.
The seventy-two-year-old woman snoozing by the fire, on the other hand?According to Lady Winnifred, old women were all but invisible to begin with.Close your eyes and throw in a fake snore and every villain from here to Thurso would discuss their most dastardly plans right in front of you, not even bothering to lower their voices.
And so, spies were usually the last person you suspected.The old lady.The scullery maid.
The wallflower in the dirt-colored dress.
Lady Francesca had offered to make introductions, an offer Clarissa had accepted with alacrity.Sure enough, Lady Winnifred thought Clarissa had great potential, an assessment echoed by her contact at the Home Office, Sir Henry Kenchington.Sir Henry had spent a half hour peppering Clarissa with rapid-fire questions.He had seemed pleased with her command of French, Spanish, High German, Low German, Dutch, and even Russian.
Once the interview concluded, Sir Henry removed his spectacles, rubbing his nose.“I have a theory, Miss Weatherby, that behind every weakness, there lies a strength, if you have the wit to see it.You have described yourself as a wallflower.Society derides wallflowers, of course, as spinsters in the making.They are unadmired and, most importantly, unnoticed.”He had fixed her with his pale blue gaze.“Congratulations, Miss Weatherby.Your weakness is now your strength.I hope this is the start of a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
It had been the best thing to ever happen to Clarissa.No longer would she be stuck frittering her days away embroidering handkerchiefs.She would be able to make use of her natural abilities.She was going to do something important!
She was assigned to train under Lady Winnifred.The two of them had just completed their first assignment, a simple mission to gather information about a gentleman smuggling French wine in Whitby.They had been heading back to London to await their next mission when Lady Winnifred fell ill in York.Her ladyship had sent a letter to Sir Henry to let him know that they would stay there so she could convalesce.
Sir Henry’s reply was presently burning a hole in Clarissa’s pocket.
With a cry from the driver, the mail coach set forth.The man on the opposite bench seat lurched forward, then backward, his head thumping against the thin grey padding that lined the wall of the coach.But he did not awaken.
Clarissa peered at him.He really did seem to be asleep.And what were the chances he could read the contents of her letter from the facing seat?She would be hard-pressed to make out the words by the carriage lamps as it was.
Were he to awaken, all he would see was a woman reading a letter.There was nothing inherently suspicious about that!
Thus resolved, Clarissa removed the letter from her pocket and unfolded it eagerly.
Chapter2
Lady Winnifred,
I am sorry to hear that you find yourself unwell, especially in light of the grim news I have received today.It concerns Mr.Oliver Baxter, a prominent member of the House of Commons with whom you are no doubt familiar.
There have been a number of unusual occurrences in Mr.Baxter’s household this past month.A stray bullet that came through the window of his morning room, missing him by inches.A wheel that broke on his curricle in such a way that it was a miracle he was not thrown from the vehicle.And a scullery maid who became sickened after tasting the crawfish soup to see if it had enough salt.
Mr.Baxter’s wife grew concerned and insisted that her husband contact Bow Street.Upon investigation, the soup was found to be tainted with arsenic, and the curricle showed signs of intentional tampering.
When the Runner went to notify Mr.Baxter of his findings, he learned that the entire household, consisting of Mr.Baxter, Mrs.Baxter, and one of her spinster cousins, had recently departed for Yorkshire to attend a house party being hosted by the Earl and Countess of Helmsley.
The Runner formed the impression that Mr.Baxter believed his wife had overreacted to this sequence of events, which he dismissed as mere coincidences.He therefore departed London unaware that someone is trying to kill him.You are the only agent within a hundred miles of the house party’s location.I therefore implore you, if you are remotely well enough to undertake the journey, to go to Helmsley Castle with all possible haste.I believe you are acquainted with Lord and Lady Helmsley, but I have provided a letter of introduction explaining your presence at the house party, as well as a letter for Mr.Baxter.
Hopefully, the would-be killer has remained behind in London, but we must take no chances.You are, therefore, to remain at the house party, watching for any signs of another attack.I have also enclosed an analysis of Mr.Baxter’s political positions, and which of the house party’s known guests would face significant losses were he to succeed in enacting legislation in accordance with those positions.
Given the urgency of the situation, I will send as many additional assets to the Helmsley estate as can be made available.In particular, one of my best men will return any day from a lengthy assignment on the Continent.I will have him on the first carriage north.
I remain yours &c.,
H.K.
Clarissa swallowed.Just her second assignment, and she was already facing a life-and-death situation!A part of her was thrilled to have been given the chance to do something so important.But she was inexperienced, and she knew it.What if she was not up to the task?
She shivered, partly out of nervousness but also because the brick at her feet had already lost most of its heat.She was now certain that the temperature was dropping, and she was shivering beneath her cloak.How she wished she had thought to don a couple of flannel petticoats and bring a thick woolen carriage blanket!Well, there was nothing for it now.There hadn’t been time to pack properly, so she had hastily shoved a few things in her valise with the understanding that Lady Winnifred would send her trunk after her the following day.
Clarissa wedged herself into the corner, trying to find a little warmth amongst the sparsely padded squabs.It would be an uncomfortable journey, but it wasn’t far to Helmsley.She could endure it.
She read through the letter a second time.As an avid reader of the papers, she knew of Oliver Baxter.Young and charismatic, his name was often mentioned as a potential candidate for Prime Minister should the Whigs regain power.He advocated for a number of reformist initiatives that Clarissa supported strongly, including eradicating slavery from the British Empire.He also argued in favor of parliamentary reform, including an expansion of voting rights to include the working and middle classes and the elimination of so-called “pocket boroughs” whose populations had shrunk over the years, leaving a scant handful of voters whose support could easily be bought and sold.
