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The colonel leaned back in his chair. “Wickham is at a low level in the organization; arresting him would not yield much information. The Home Office is hoping he will lead us to other agents and help us determine how he obtains such sensitive information.”
Elizabeth still could not see why the colonel was sharing this news with her.
“Unfortunately,” the colonel sighed, “I will have too many duties in Brighton to stay in Wickham’s company and hope he might reveal some information. He is likely to guard his tongue around his fellow officers.” His brow furrowed with concern; Wickham must be in a position to cause great damage.
Her father’s eyes focused on Elizabeth. “The colonel approached me about whether Lydia would be willing to observe Wickham in Brighton and report what she learned.”
Lydia? “Relying upon her would be a disaster!” Elizabeth exclaimed immediately. “She could not keep a secret if her life depended on it.”
Her father’s mouth curved in an ironic smile. “Just so. I told the colonel Lydia is too young and unreliable for such a weighty task. Yet it is vitally important. I did mention that Wickham had shown an interest in you, and the colonel inquired whether you would be amenable to such an assignment.”
Good Lord! Such a great responsibility. She hardly knew if she was equal to such a task. Her skin prickled, and perspiration dripped down her back as she sat still under the scrutiny of the two men.
As if reading her mind, her father said, “I know you would perform such duties admirably.”
Elizabeth welcomed the praise but wished that she could share her father’s confidence. Everything she knew of espionage she had gleaned from novels, and most likely they did not enjoy a high degree of accuracy.
The colonel cleared this throat. “I assure you that Wickham will never learn of your involvement, and I would not ask you to undertake anything dangerous or disagreeable. You would merely keep company with him at Brighton’s many balls, dinners, and card parties and observe him. He might reveal something about the source of his sensitive information, the identity of his co-conspirators, or the location of the spies’ hideout. He is apt to speak more freely around a lady than he would with a fellow officer.”
Naturally. No man would suspect a woman to concern herself with information about the war. Elizabeth experienced a hot rush of anger on behalf of her sex. Perhaps we cannot be soldiers, but we are not altogether useless.
“You could stay at my house with your sister and my wife. This would put you in position to relay any information to me,” the colonel said. “It would also give you an opportunity to learn if he is intercepting my post or sneaking into my study when I am away.”
Elizabeth was flattered by the trust the colonel exhibited in her discretion and judgment. However, it was such a weighty responsibility! The future of England could depend upon her actions. Her mind could scarcely grasp the enormity of the task.
Her father steepled his fingers. “The colonel and I have discussed this operation at some length. You will never be alone with Mr. Wickham, and you may beg the colonel’s assistance if a difficult situation arises. Of course, you may also return home at any time.” His eyes narrowed. “I would not risk your safety for anything in the world.”
“I know, Papa.” The comforting words nonetheless sent a chill through her. Her father must believe the threat to England was quite grave or he would not even consider such an undertaking.
As a woman, Elizabeth had never believed she would have an opportunity to serve her country. She could not deny a thrill at the idea of such an interesting and exciting task.
“I pray you do not experience a sense of obligation,” the colonel said urgently. “You are but a woman, and a young one at that.” Elizabeth’s spine stiffened, and her hands clenched into fists. “If you are too frightened—”
Elizabeth interrupted. “I am not frightened.”
A faint smile flashed across her father’s face.
“I can be cautious enough to mitigate the danger, and I may be alert for useful information,” she continued. “I am happy to accept your assignment.”
The colonel leaned back in his chair with a relieved smile; obviously her acceptance had been of importance to him.
“But how should we explain my sudden desire to visit Brighton?”
“Ah, yes.” Her father’s proud smile fade into an expression of anxiety. “As you guessed, I might send you to Brighton as a sort of chaperone for Lydia—despite your objections, naturally.”
Elizabeth grimaced. Under other circumstances she would object strenuously.
“My wife would be happy for the company of another lady,” the colonel said, “and our house in Brighton will have sufficient space for another guest. You should be quite comfortable.”
Her father watched her steadily. “I am sorry we must share such ill news about Mr. Wickham.” Of course, he did not know that Mr. Darcy’s letter had prepared her for thoughts of the officer’s perfidy.
Still, Elizabeth suppressed a shudder at the sound of the man’s name. Could she do it? Knowing his character as she did, could she allow him to court her? Dance with him? Converse freely with him? Perhaps kiss him? Yes, she had once thought him handsome, but knowing the blackness of his soul, could she pretend attraction to him?
Elizabeth squared her shoulders. She must do so. She must convince him that she cared for him. At any moment the tide of the war might turn against Britain. How could she continue with her life as usual knowing she might prevent such evil?
No, her duty was clear.
“Very well, Colonel Forster,” she said. “Tell me what I need to know.”
