Ann Lethbridge - Regency Society

Georgie sighed. She would have felt better if she had been allowed to help, but it was obvious that Jensen would not allow that. His wife would probably resent it if Georgie offered to help in the kitchen. There was nothing for it but to find a book to read, though she doubted she would find anything of interest in this room.

She wandered over to the bookshelves, looking at the volumes of history and scientific volumes. They would send her to sleep in five minutes! She looked further along, almost giving up until she saw the book of poetry. It was new, bound in red leather, and very much out of place amongst all the others. Picking it out, she frowned as she opened it and a folded paper fell out. Georgie replaced it without opening it because it wasn’t hers to read. She took the book and curled up in a chair by the window, beginning to read, but after a while she saw that it had been marked in ink in the columns and some words had been underlined.

What a terrible way to treat a new book! And it was by Lord Byron, something she had wanted to read for a long time! Who could have done such a thing?

She frowned over it, trying to ignore the ink marks, but they annoyed her and she found herself fixing on them when she ought to have been reading the poetry. She was caught by the regularity of what seemed to be a pattern, and began to wonder if perhaps it was a code of some kind, though she couldn’t make much sense of it. She flicked through the book and found the folded paper someone had left inside, hesitating because it wasn’t hers and yet intrigued.

Oh, what did it matter? It shouldn’t have been left there for anyone to find if it was important. She unfolded it and read through the few lines of explanation, a spiral of excitement curling through her as she realised that she was right. It was a code and with this she could break it easily. By studying the text in the poetry book and then comparing it to the instructions in the letter, Georgie soon realised that if you took out the letters that had been marked you could make new words and sentences.

It was a message of some kind! She looked at what she had thought was just scribbling in the margins and realised that the numbers and letters referred to certain lines. Someone had already done a lot of the work and Georgie found it easy to work from that person’s notes. Counting along the lines, she found the words that had been underlined and suddenly the message began to jump out at her.

It concerned a plot to kill members of the government and an important man, who, she thought, was meant to be the Regent! She sat holding the book for some minutes, staring at it in disbelief, thinking she must be mistaken. Surely she was wrong! If she had translated this correctly, the man she had tried to steal from the previous evening might be concerned in a wicked plot to bring down the English government and the throne!

She couldn’t be right! She must have made a mistake…and yet the terrible attack on Captain Hernshaw that had happened close to his house might be directly connected with what she had just discovered. No! She would not believe he was capable of such infamy! Georgie got to her feet, placing the letter back where it belonged and closing the book with a snap. She returned it to its place on the shelf. She had made a mistake when deciphering the message…or perhaps Captain Hernshaw was concerned with this plot because he was trying to stop it happening…

It had to be that, she decided, because she could not—would not—believe that the man who had treated her so well when he might have handed her over to the watch was a traitor to his country.

Besides, she had no right to pry into his private affairs. Glancing at the clock, she saw that some hours had passed. It was time that she went up to give Henderson a chance to find himself something to eat.

They took turns to watch him throughout the rest of the day and during the night, but there was little change, though once while Georgie was with him he seemed to be feverish. Once again she heard the name Justin , though what he was saying wasn’t clear this time. She smoothed his damp hair back from his forehead, talking to him softly, and after a while he quietened. She smiled down at him, thinking how much younger he looked when he was resting. She knew a strong temptation to kiss him and stroke his face, but fought it because it wouldn’t be right to take advantage when he was vulnerable. She sat down again to watch over him from a distance. When Henderson came back, he was sleeping peacefully.

‘He seems better,’ the manservant remarked. ‘I think he may be through the dangerous time, Georgie.’ He smiled at her. ‘Go to bed now. I can manage him from now on.’

‘I’ll come back so that you can have your breakfast,’ Georgie replied. ‘You told me that the trouble will start when he comes to his senses, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, but…’ He shook his head at her. ‘It isn’t fitting for a young lady to be in a gentleman’s bedchamber.’

‘Who will know?’ Georgie asked and grinned. ‘I shan’t tell if you don’t.’

He tipped his head to one side, considering her. ‘Who are you, miss? I’d swear you were a lady if I didn’t know he found you on the streets.’

‘My name is Georgina, but I can’t tell you any more than that,’ she said. ‘I ran away from…where I was, because something terrible would have happened if I hadn’t.’

Henderson gave her a look of disbelief. ‘Are you sure you’re telling me the truth?’

‘I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t.’

‘The captain will want to know when he’s himself again.’

Georgie looked at their patient. ‘I want to trust him, but I am afraid he might not believe me.’

‘If you tell him the truth, he will help you.’

‘Will he?’

Henderson looked at her hard. ‘You will have to trust someone eventually—and he is the one who can help you.’

‘Yes, I know. I will try, honestly, I will—and could you please call me Georgie? I don’t want anyone outside this house to know I’m a girl.’

‘They’ve only to see your hair,’ Henderson told her. ‘I shan’t betray you, but you must be very careful.’

Georgie agreed that she would and he went away to have his breakfast. She stood watching over their patient for a while; he seemed to be resting more easily. She bent to stroke his hair from his forehead, smiling at him as he murmured in his sleep, and then she leaned down to kiss him lightly on the cheek. His eyelids flickered, which made her back away hastily. She wandered over to the window, where she discovered a rather battered-looking chess set on a little table near the window. She began to set out the pieces and had just finished placing them when Henderson returned. He smiled as he saw what she had done and came over to the table.

‘We played this many an evening during the campaign,’ he told her. ‘There wasn’t much else to do, miss.’

‘Shall we play a game?’ Georgie suggested. ‘I used to play with my father, but I haven’t played for ages. I’ll take white and you have black.’

‘Yes, if you wish,’ Henderson agreed and moved a piece for his opening gambit.

Georgie moved a pawn to block him and battle was joined. She gave a chuckle of delight as he removed her first piece, for it was obvious that he was a worthy opponent and she need not fear to play her best game. Neither of them noticed when the man in the bed opened his eyes.

Richard lay with his head resting against the pillows for some seconds before he became aware that he was not alone in the room. He was at first conscious only of the throbbing agony in his thigh. There was some soreness in his left shoulder, but it was his thigh that pained him the worst. He could not for a moment think where he was, his pain swirling him back to the battlefield and the agony he had endured from wounds gained there. The girl’s laughter penetrated the fog that held him, making him focus on the two figures near the window.