Velvet Undercover Page 3

  I look away, unable to meet the intensity of his gaze. “If I do reconsider, I’ll let you know. But I wouldn’t count on it. I must think of my mother. I’m all she has now. Thank you for your offer, though.”

  “That’s very commendable, Miss Donaldson. But I believe that duty to one’s country is at least as important as love of one’s mother.”

  He sounds sincere, and for a moment I’m tempted. Under other circumstances, I would jump at the chance, but as things are . . .

  “Of course. But I don’t think my father would want me to leave my mother alone.”

  His brows rise. “Are you so sure of that? George Donaldson spent his life in the service of his country, as did his father before him. For that matter, your mother, before she married your father, was a lady-in-waiting to the queen, and your great-grandmother served with Florence Nightingale in the Crimean War. You might say that service is in your blood, Miss Donaldson. Are you so very sure that your parents would tell you to forsake your country because of family?”

  My mouth drops open. And I thought he didn’t know who I was.

  Captain Parker leans back in his chair with an air of smugness, as if I couldn’t possibly argue with that. He’s quite right, I can’t, but then again, I don’t have to. I lift my chin.

  “Perhaps, or perhaps not, but that’s for me to decide, Captain Parker, and I’ve made my decision.”

  “Miss Donaldson, I understand your position, but as I said, there are reasons La Dame Blanche and the Allies need skills like yours. I was hoping you and I could make an even trade.”

  I frown. “What do you mean?”

  “We thoroughly investigate all La Dame Blanche candidates before offering them positions with the organization. As I was going through your history, I came across some discrepancies in the reports concerning your father’s disappearance. If you accept our offer, I would be happy to look into the matter further.”

  It’s as if someone suddenly punched all the air out of me. I knew something about my father’s disappearance wasn’t right.

  His contingent had been waylaid in the Arabian Desert while on a diplomatic mission to Tripoli. But while most of the delegation made it home, my father did not. In fact, he was the only one taken by Ottoman soldiers. The report stated that he was most likely targeted as the official ambassador of the group.

  I spent the first several months after his disappearance haunting the War Office searching for any information they might have overlooked. At first, the office staff was sympathetic and helpful and even let me go over some of the eyewitness reports, but they must have lost patience with me, because eventually doors began to slam in my face. Even formerly helpful aides shooed me off.

  But now I know I was right. There was more.

  Captain Parker and I stare at each other. “And I take it you won’t investigate my father’s disappearance unless I join La Dame Blanche?”

  He sighs. “Miss Donaldson, there’s a war going on. My time is valuable. If you’re willing to sacrifice your time for me, then I’d be willing to sacrifice a bit of my time and my staff’s time for you and investigate the incident further. If you choose not to join us, I’d have to spend that time searching for another candidate to take your place.”

  My mind races. As an officer and a member of Military Intelligence, Captain Parker would be able to find out more than I ever could about my father’s disappearance. The question is, Can I trust that he’ll follow through or is he merely saying this to get what he wants? But why would he do that? Another thought strikes me—yes, my mother would be devastated if anything happened to me, but wouldn’t her relief if we actually got some solid news about Father be worth the risk? My heart drums in my ears as I make my decision. Standing, I place my hands on his desk. “How do I know you’ll do as you say?”

  Instead of being insulted by my question, he nods, as if expecting it. “First off, you have my word as an officer in the king’s army. Secondly, you’re a smart girl.” Pushing a packet across his desk, he leans forward, his eyes gleaming at his little victory.

  “Checkmate.”

  The next hour passes in a blur. I leave Captain Parker’s office, make my way to the Girl Guides’ break room to snatch up my coat and lunch pail, and take the Tube home. It isn’t until I pause at the bottom of the front steps that I take stock of the situation.

  One, I’m being bullied into being a spy.

  Two, I’m going to be a spy.

  Three, I’m equal parts resentful and excited.

  I believe that covers it.

  Shaking my head, I hurry up the steps, impatient to look inside the folder Captain Parker handed me so casually. Bridget must have heard the door, because she’s there in moments, clucking her tongue.

  “You’ll catch your death if you keep gadding about, you poor dear.”

  “I’ll be fine, Bridget, thank you.”

  She hangs up my things and shoos me off to the sitting room. “Your mother is reading, I believe,” she tells me. “Or pretending to.”

  I take a minute to draw a couple of deeps breaths and compose myself. I wonder if I’m being too optimistic about Captain Parker’s promise to look into my father’s disappearance. What can he possibly discover? I know I’d like to believe that my father is alive somewhere and that Captain Parker will find him and bring him home, but is that just wishful thinking? What if Captain Parker is leading me down a rabbit hole for his own ends?

  I take one final, cleansing breath and go to face my mother.

  She looks up and gives me a weary smile. “You’re home early. What a nice treat. I haven’t had tea yet, would you like to join me?”

  Even though I’d rather run up to my room and open the packet Captain Parker gave me, the wistfulness in my mother’s expression compels me to join her.

  “Is Rose back from school?” I ask.

  My mother shakes her head. “Your aunt Elaine collected her, saying she was on the verge of forgetting what her daughter looks like.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. Rose would know in a minute that something was going on with me.

  “What’s that?” Mother nods toward the packet still under my arm.

  I bite my lip. “Just something from work.”

  Bridget brings in our tea and a plate of almond biscuits. Mother and I fall into our customary silence as we eat. The packet, which I’d tucked next to me in the chair, feels as if it’s burning into my thigh, and the knowledge that I’m about to leave my mother, when she has already been through so much, hurts all the way to my toes. Yet what choice do I have? If Captain Parker knows something about my father, I must find out what it is.

  How am I supposed to tell my mother about my impending absence? Captain Parker didn’t give me instructions about that. He just handed me a packet and told me a motorcar would be picking me up at five a.m.

  Then he bade me good day and waved me out.

  “I had a meeting with Captain Parker today. He offered me another position.” I think quickly. “I’m to be Miss Tickford’s assistant.”

  Mother folds her hands in her lap. “Congratulations, darling. I know you were a bit bored being a messenger girl. When do you start?”

  “Immediately. We’ll actually be leaving in the morning for a short trip.” I take a bite of my last almond biscuit, which suddenly tastes like dust.

  “And where would you be going?” Only the fine quiver of her bottom lip betrays her surprise.

  Lying has never been my forte, but if I’m to join La Dame Blanche, I suppose I’ll have to get used to it. “Liverpool and Plymouth.”

  I make a note to myself to inform Captain Parker about the cover.

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “I’m not sure. Several weeks, at the very least.”

  Mother’s smile becomes fixed. “You’ll be wanting to go pack, then.”

  Which means that she wishes to be alone to take in this new development. My heart squeezes tightly in my chest as I stand. “Yes. I’ll be
down for supper.”

  Once in my room, I open the packet and dump the contents out on the large desk my father had built in the bay window. Bridget must have had the maid light a fire while I was having tea, because the room is cozy and warm.

  Taking a seat, I inspect each item carefully. There’s a typewritten letter, travel papers with a fake name, and a packing list. I turn to the letter first. There’s no signature, but I can almost hear Captain Parker’s voice as I read.

  Dear Miss Donaldson,

  Enclosed you will find the papers necessary to complete the first leg of your journey. I have no doubt that you will be a credit to your family and your country. You can be assured that you’ll be properly compensated for any inconvenience in the manner in which you most desire.

  We’ll be sending updates on the wonderful job you’re doing to your mother. Packing instructions are included.

  Thank you for your service.

  I throw the letter down, frustrated. I’m going to get into a motorcar to go God only knows where, to be trained to do God only knows what, all so Captain Parker will investigate my father’s abduction. For all I know, he may not find out anything new. Clenching my teeth, I pick up the list of things to bring. They include toiletries and warm clothing, which are basic and included on any trip. At the very bottom are several words that make no sense at all. It takes me a moment to realize they must be in some sort of code.

  Ghvwurb diwhu uhdglqj

  I snatch up a pencil and paper and my fingers race. In addition to playing our math games, my father used to leave coded little notes for me around the house. After several minutes I grasp that it’s an easy three-shift Caesar cipher, where the letters are simply shifted down the alphabet by three. I scoff. It’s one of the first puzzle codes my father taught me.

  Destroy after reading

  Bridget knocks on the door and I startle. Her disapproval is evident in the tightness of her jaw and the stiffness in her back. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she says, leaving a large leather satchel on the foot of my bed. Her tone implies that she doubts very highly that I do.

  Somehow I make it through the rest of the evening, though I’m so nervous that even the scraping of cutlery on the china makes me jump. My mother doesn’t seem to notice that anything is wrong. Or does she? After supper she gives me an uncharacteristic hug before inquiring politely about my travel plans. I tell her what I know, that a car will be picking me up in the wee hours of the morning, and she nods.

  “We’ll say good-bye now, then.”

  My chest tightens as my mother presses her cheek against mine and pulls me in for a warm embrace. “Sleep well, my dear,” she says.

  But sleep eludes me. After checking to make sure I have everything, I carefully burn the papers in the coals left in the fireplace, keeping only the travel documents.

  At a quarter to five, I wrap my wool coat around me, pull my tam over my head, and walk down to wait in the foyer. My hands are so slick with sweat that I can barely maintain a grip on the satchel.

  The stone statue of Diana in the corner, the potted palm, and even the bookshelf full of books take on a strange and unfamiliar quality in the early morning light. There’s a light tap on the door and, taking a deep breath, I open it. The driver reaches for my things with barely a glance in my direction.

  I follow him to the motorcar parked in front. He places my bag in the boot and then opens the door for me without a word.

  I start to crawl in but hesitate a moment when I see a woman already in the backseat. As I slide in, an expensive French perfume assails my nose. Glancing sideways, I note that the woman is wearing a fashionable fur coat and her felt hat has a sweeping brim that partially obscures her face. The dim light reveals carnelian-red lips and matching fingernails. A gleaming chignon of dark hair sits low on her neck. The woman leans forward and taps on the glass separating the driver from the passengers. The little silver bells hanging from her pierced ears tinkle enticingly as she moves.

  She turns to me and I see that her green eyes are daringly rimmed with kohl. Her allure is so potent, so chic and modern, that I blink.

  “Are you hungry?” the woman asks. “I think we can get tea at the station.”

  I frown as her voice, tantalizingly familiar, tickles my ear. Except something about it is just slightly off, like looking the wrong way through a spyglass. “Who are you?” I ask.

  Even her laugh is charming. “Samantha! Don’t you know me?”

  She faces me and removes her hat. It takes my stunned brain several seconds to recognize who it is, and when I do, my heart slams into my chest.

  Miss Tickford.

  PART II

  Spy Craft

  FOUR

  IRXU

  Swallow: An attractive female agent used to seduce people in order to obtain intelligence information.

  “What? How?” I’m pretty sure I look as idiotic as I sound.

  Her mouth twists. “My alter ego’s disguise must be very convincing.” She sticks out her hand. “Perhaps we should reintroduce ourselves. My name is Letty Tickford and I’ll be your handler.”

  My world tips for a moment as I try to grasp this new reality. I shake her hand automatically and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “What on earth is a handler?”

  She smiles. “Your trainer and point of contact when you go in the field. I’ll be your handler, so you’ll be sending messages to me and I’ll be sending them to you, through various people and methods, of course. It’s important for you to remember that you must trust only me and the people I trust.”

  My suspicion gets the better of me. “Trust you? I don’t even know who you are!”

  She folds her hands in her lap, her lips twitching. “Tell me, what do you wish to know?”

  “Is Letty Tickford your real name?”

  “You don’t believe me?” she asks, amused. “Why not?”

  I cross my arms, feeling as if I’ve been had. “I find all this a bit disturbing, especially so early in the morning.”

  Her grin widens. “You always were like a little old woman inside a young girl’s body.”

  My cheeks flame. “Are you making fun of me?”

  Her smile disappears and her expression becomes serious. “No, little one. Your maturity is actually one of the reasons you were chosen for LDB. There are assignments that only someone with your talents can carry out.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Captain Parker said the same thing. What sort of assignments do you mean?”

  Miss Tickford shakes her head. “We’ll discuss that later. First, I must make sure you understand the gravity of the situation. While you’re perfectly suited to help us, MI6 isn’t in the business of sending girls to their deaths. But it is important that you understand that most of our agents are now considered officers, not spies. Think of LDB as an auxiliary, albeit secret, military operation. Once trained, you’ll be considered an officer.”

  I frown. “Why is that so important?”

  She regards me, and I notice that her green eyes are no longer childlike, but instead crackle with intelligence and energy. “Because the punishment for betraying your country is much more severe for an officer in the king’s army than it is for a common citizen.”

  I straighten. “I’d never betray my country!”

  She pats my hand and nods. “I know. But the lines of loyalty and betrayal are often blurred in our line of work.”

  Miss Tickford lets that sink in for a moment and then continues.

  “I was delighted when Captain Parker told me that you’d be joining us. I think you’re an extraordinarily talented young woman—and our organization is in desperate need of talented young women.”

  I wait, knowing there’s more.

  She tilts her head to one side as if deciding how much to reveal. “While I can’t tell you about the type of assignments you’ll receive, I can tell you that you’ll be undergoing a short period of rigorous training. Only after you’ve successfully completed
that training will you be given your first assignment. Now you may ask me a few questions, if you like. I may not be able to answer them all, but will if I can.”

  “How long have you been a part of La Dame Blanche?”

  Her brows arch in surprise as if she hadn’t expected me to ask anything personal. But why wouldn’t I? Her transformation is dizzying.

  “For a little over a year. Because of my background, I was uniquely qualified to be a liaison between La Dame Blanche and MI6. I accepted immediately.”

  I want to ask her what her background is, but I know from experience that she dislikes talking about herself, so instead I ask her what she’s doing working at MI5.

  “Recruiting.”

  I nod. That makes sense. “Where are we going?”

  “Our first stop is Verdun. Your training will begin there.”

  “And then?”

  “We will move to another location for some specialized training.”

  “After that?”

  She shakes her head. “After that we shall see.”

  I digest that, then ask curiously, “What will I be learning during this training?”

  “You’ll be learning everything you need to know as an officer of La Dame Blanche.”

  I refrain from snorting. She’s telling me nothing, really, so I change tactics. “What do you know about my father’s disappearance?”

  She startles and I grin. She’s not the only one who can surprise people.

  “I don’t know anything about his disappearance that you don’t already know.” She reaches out and her gloved hand touches my arm. I look up and her green eyes are soft with sympathy. “I wish I did, Samantha. But I don’t.”

  I detect no deceit in her voice, but then, until a few minutes ago, I had no idea that mousy Miss Tickford was a beautiful spy, so I should be on my guard.