ciphers and that you can be depended upon to keep state secrets.”
Intrigued, Abigail allowed Derek to take her hand and lead her to an extra chair he had already placed near the fireplace and to the right of Mr. Levenger. She took her seat and addressed their guest. “I hope you were provided with a substantial meal, sir.”
“I was indeed. Thank you for your hospitality. And also for your patience. I have obtained your husband’s permission to share some information with you. As he indicated, portions of it will always be considered a state secret, but I feel you have a right to be informed about what took place in the past.”
His solemn expression sent prickles of fear curling through Abigail’s stomach. She and Derek had just come to an understanding about the past. She didn’t really want it dredged up again. At the same time, she could judge that Derek’s and this man’s pasts were entwined in some way. If they wanted her to know their secrets, she hoped she was brave enough to hear them and live with whatever Mr. Levenger was about to say.
“Very well,” she murmured.
“I’ll begin,” Derek interjected. “When I was still at university, I was approached by someone who shall remain nameless asking me to undertake some missions to secretly obtain information on the war plans of the French. In order to obscure my activities, I was to pretend to be a wastrel, addicted to gambling and drinking and other unsavory pastimes.”
Abigail nodded. “I remember that time very well. You had promised to return to the castle during your Christmas break and speak to my father. Instead you went to London. Stories about your wild ways made their way back to the country almost on a weekly basis.”
Derek winced. “I had hoped you weren’t hearing all of the rumors that I knew to be floating around. Unfortunately, I had no way of communicating with you. Everything I did was considered vital to the war effort.”
Mr. Levenger leaned forward. “I, too, had been approached to make periodic trips to the continent to gather information, and Derek and I frequently traveled together. We consequently became good friends. On one of those trips, I confided in Derek, telling him that I was in love with Melonnie Pyle and had already acquired a special license. Melonnie and I planned to marry as soon as I returned from our current mission.”
Abigail’s breath caught at the mention of Melonnie but she said nothing. Mr. Levenger continued.
“I suppose I had a premonition of sorts, because I asked Derek to look after Melonnie if anything should happen to me. The next day our small group was attacked by a gang of French soldiers who had become separated from their unit. I was shot and then trampled by a panicked horse. My fellow countrymen heard the Frenchmen pronounce me dead, but they wanted my body for a reward that was being offered by their government. They made off with me, and everyone assumed I was dead.”
“But you were not, obviously,” Abigail said.
“No, but they thought I was going to die. They left me with a peasant and promised to return for my body the following week. I don’t know what happened, but they never came back. The peasant, hoping for a reward, kept me imprisoned in his barn, feeding me only enough to keep me alive. I was already very weak due to my wounds, but I managed to occasionally steal part of an apple that had dropped from the horse’s mouth and to spurt a little milk from the cow’s teat into my mouth. In this manner, I gradually regained my strength to the point that I was able to escape and make my way through the countryside until I found an English troop and was thus rescued.”
“Good heavens,” Abigail said. “What a horrible experience for you.”
He nodded solemnly. “But not half so horrible as returning home to find that Melonnie had died in childbirth, along with our baby boy. My only consolation was learning that Derek had planned to marry her so that her
Intrigued, Abigail allowed Derek to take her hand and lead her to an extra chair he had already placed near the fireplace and to the right of Mr. Levenger. She took her seat and addressed their guest. “I hope you were provided with a substantial meal, sir.”
“I was indeed. Thank you for your hospitality. And also for your patience. I have obtained your husband’s permission to share some information with you. As he indicated, portions of it will always be considered a state secret, but I feel you have a right to be informed about what took place in the past.”
His solemn expression sent prickles of fear curling through Abigail’s stomach. She and Derek had just come to an understanding about the past. She didn’t really want it dredged up again. At the same time, she could judge that Derek’s and this man’s pasts were entwined in some way. If they wanted her to know their secrets, she hoped she was brave enough to hear them and live with whatever Mr. Levenger was about to say.
“Very well,” she murmured.
“I’ll begin,” Derek interjected. “When I was still at university, I was approached by someone who shall remain nameless asking me to undertake some missions to secretly obtain information on the war plans of the French. In order to obscure my activities, I was to pretend to be a wastrel, addicted to gambling and drinking and other unsavory pastimes.”
Abigail nodded. “I remember that time very well. You had promised to return to the castle during your Christmas break and speak to my father. Instead you went to London. Stories about your wild ways made their way back to the country almost on a weekly basis.”
Derek winced. “I had hoped you weren’t hearing all of the rumors that I knew to be floating around. Unfortunately, I had no way of communicating with you. Everything I did was considered vital to the war effort.”
Mr. Levenger leaned forward. “I, too, had been approached to make periodic trips to the continent to gather information, and Derek and I frequently traveled together. We consequently became good friends. On one of those trips, I confided in Derek, telling him that I was in love with Melonnie Pyle and had already acquired a special license. Melonnie and I planned to marry as soon as I returned from our current mission.”
Abigail’s breath caught at the mention of Melonnie but she said nothing. Mr. Levenger continued.
“I suppose I had a premonition of sorts, because I asked Derek to look after Melonnie if anything should happen to me. The next day our small group was attacked by a gang of French soldiers who had become separated from their unit. I was shot and then trampled by a panicked horse. My fellow countrymen heard the Frenchmen pronounce me dead, but they wanted my body for a reward that was being offered by their government. They made off with me, and everyone assumed I was dead.”
“But you were not, obviously,” Abigail said.
“No, but they thought I was going to die. They left me with a peasant and promised to return for my body the following week. I don’t know what happened, but they never came back. The peasant, hoping for a reward, kept me imprisoned in his barn, feeding me only enough to keep me alive. I was already very weak due to my wounds, but I managed to occasionally steal part of an apple that had dropped from the horse’s mouth and to spurt a little milk from the cow’s teat into my mouth. In this manner, I gradually regained my strength to the point that I was able to escape and make my way through the countryside until I found an English troop and was thus rescued.”
“Good heavens,” Abigail said. “What a horrible experience for you.”
He nodded solemnly. “But not half so horrible as returning home to find that Melonnie had died in childbirth, along with our baby boy. My only consolation was learning that Derek had planned to marry her so that her
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