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Lancashire, England
October 4, 1939
Evelyn Ainsworth stood before the grave as the last rites and prayers were read over the coffin of her father, Robert Ainsworth II. Her mother stood beside her, gripping a handkerchief in one hand and a rose in the other. Her shoulders were rigid, and Evelyn knew it was taking everything she had to stand there calmly while they buried her husband. At least the ordeal was almost over. The vicar would be finished soon, and then they could start the long walk back to the house.
Evelyn hated funerals. She always had. They were an ostentatious tradition, spread over death to disguise the gruesome fact that a body was now going to rot into ashes and mingle with the earth. They were preformed to comfort the grieving family and friends, and make them believe that their loved ones weren’t really decaying, but were somewhere else. Somewhere better. They were a chance for people to say goodbye, but as far as she was concerned, there was no one to say goodbye to. The deceased was already gone, and Evelyn could never quite reconcile herself to the fact that a funeral was, at its core, nothing more than a facade.
Turning her attention back to the large coffin before them, Evelyn swallowed with difficulty. She still couldn’t believe he was gone. She’d had dinner with him in London just before he left for that fateful trip to Poland. He had been leaving the next day for Warsaw, and even though Evelyn urged him to be careful, he had laughed and told her not to worry so much. That was at the end of August. It was a week later that the German army invaded Poland. For days, they were frantic for news of him. Finally, her mother received a telegram from Zürich: he was safe and on his way to Bern. He would be home shortly.
That was the last telegram he sent. He arrived at the Bellevue Palace Hotel in Bern, where he passed away in the night. They were told it was a heart attack, likely brought on by the stress of fleeing Poland ahead of the German forces.
When she received the news at her training post in Scotland, Evelyn had thought there must be some mistake. It was only the second telegram from London that convinced her the report was real. William Buckley, a family friend and close associate of her father, had sent it to confirm the news. In the past year working with Bill, she had never known him to be wrong. And this was no exception. He’d arranged for compassionate leave and transportation back to Lancashire for her immediately.
Evelyn glanced over her shoulder to where he stood now with his wife, Marguerite. Marguerite had been a god-send to her mother over the past few days. A Frenchwoman herself, she had been a great companion and comfort to Madeleine Ainsworth while she waited for her children to make it home from their respective postings. For that alone, Evelyn would always be grateful to the Buckleys.
Her brother Rob stood on her mother’s other side, tall and immaculate in his RAF uniform. He’d arrived home yesterday, a few hours before her, and had gone to meet her at the station. The joy of seeing him for the first time in months was tempered by their sorrow. Now, looking at his profile, Evelyn swallowed again. This was just as hard for him as it was for her. His squadron had been training heavily since the summer, even before the outbreak of war, and he’d only been able to make it home to see their father a handful of times.
Now he was gone.
The vicar finished his prayers and stepped back, drawing her attention back to the proceedings before her. Four men stepped forward to lower the casket into the ground, and Evelyn took a deep, ragged breath. It was almost over.
A soft sob escaped from her mother as they struggled to lower the coffin, and Evelyn put an arm around her shoulders, squeezing gently. She met her brother’s gaze over her head and smiled reassuringly. He looked concerned. Rob had never done well with tears, especially where his mother and sister were concerned. She turned her eyes back to the casket descending into the ground. Luckily for him, her mother was as determined not to make a scene as she was herself. Their tears would be reserved for when they were out of sight and alone.
A large crowd had gathered to say their final farewells to Robert Ainsworth. Many of them she didn’t recognize, most likely associates from London who had worked with him in the Foreign Diplomatic Office. Several were neighbors and villagers who had known the family for decades. As Evelyn looked around the gathering, she sighed inwardly. It would be ages before they could politely leave and get back to the house.
As the men stepped away from the grave, the vicar motioned to her mother. She stepped forward, bowed her head briefly, then straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin resolutely as she kissed the bud of the rose in her hand before dropping it into the open grave. Rob glanced at her and Evelyn sighed, following her mother to drop her own flower into the grave. Standing before the gaping hole and seeing the shiny casket in its final resting place was almost too much for her, and hot tears pricked the back of her eyelids.
Blinking them away quickly, Evelyn reached up to touch the garnet necklace hanging around her neck. Her father had brought it back from Prague last year. As soon as her fingers touched the warm stones, she calmed, taking a deep breath. She reached out her other hand and dropped her rose into the opening, turning away from the grave quickly. Her eyes caught Rob’s as he came up behind her and she swallowed again. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder gently in support as she paused and their eyes met.
“It’s almost over,” he whispered.
She nodded, smiling tremulously, and turned to follow their mother. He was right. It was almost over. She could make it.
Evelyn looked up as yet another stranger approached her, intent on expressing their condolences. She felt as if the smile on her face was permanently fixed into place, and she held out her hand automatically as the man stopped before her. Instead of taking her hand, he pressed something into it. Looking down in surprise, she found herself holding a business card.
“Miss Ainsworth, I’m very sorry for your loss,” the man said. His voice was deep and low. “My name is Jasper Montclair and I was an associate of your fathers. He spoke often of you.”
Evelyn looked at him more closely. Jasper wasn’t a tall man, but what he lacked in height he more than made up for in charisma. His eyebrows were thick and dark, but his eyes were what really caught her attention. They were sharp and bright, giving the impression that he rarely missed anything.
“Thank you,” she murmured, dropping her gaze to the card in her hand.
“I know this is a very difficult time for you and your family, but I would very much like to speak with you. I understand from William Buckley that you are stationed in Scotland?”
“Yes. I’m in the WAAFs.”
“I know you’ve only been given a limited amount of leave,” Jasper continued. “I’m terribly sorry to intrude on you at such a time, but it really is quite urgent. Can you come to London tomorrow? The address is on the card.”
“Go to London?” Evelyn repeated, staring at him. “What on earth for?”
“I know it’s very inconvenient, and believe me when I say that I would not ask it if it weren’t of the utmost importance.” Jasper smiled apologetically. “Buckley will vouch for me.”
Evelyn frowned and looked more closely at the card in her hand. The address was in London, but it wasn’t one she recognized. The crest on the card, however, she did recognize and she looked up, startled.
“Are you—” she began but he cut her off.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” he asked, the smile still on his face. “Shall we say one o’clock?”
“I suppose so, if I must,” Evelyn said in bemusement, slipping the card into her small clutch purse.
“I’d be very grateful,” he said, holding out his hand. “Again, my sincerest condolence. Your father was an amazing man.”
Evelyn shook his hand and nodded, then he moved away, mingling back into the crowds. Her brows came together in consternation, but the look disappeared as Rob joined her.
“If I have to hear that someone is sorry for my loss one more time, I think I’ll do something altogether shocking,” he announced, slipping his arm through hers and turning her towards the lane that ran past the churchyard. “Come on. Let’s start off home.”
“What about Mum?” Evelyn looked around. “Where is she?”
“Mrs. Buckley is collecting her; they’ll be along directly. I think we’ve all had enough.” He glanced down at her. “Who was that man just now?”
“Someone who worked with Dad, I think.”
“Didn’t he introduce himself?”
“Yes. His name is—”
“Jasper Montclair.” A new voice spoke behind them. They turned and William Buckley smiled apologetically. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help overhearing.”
Evelyn smiled and held out her hand to him.
“You can eavesdrop all you like, Bill,” she said warmly. “I appreciate everything you and Marguerite have done.”
“Yes, thank you,” Rob added, shaking his hand when Evelyn had finished. “I understand you’ve been a great help to my mother through all of this.”
“It’s the least we can do,” Bill said, falling into step beside them. “I didn’t know you were acquainted with Jasper, Evelyn.”
“I’m not. I’ve just met him. He says he was an associate of Dad’s.”
“In a way, I suppose he was,” Bill said obscurely.
“He wants me to go to London tomorrow,” Evelyn said after a moment. “He wants to meet with me. Do you have any idea why?”
Bill looked at her, clearly surprised. “To London?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’d better go,” he said bluntly, shooting her a sharp look. “It’s not often that Montclair requests a meeting.”
Evelyn caught his sharp glance and nodded imperceptibly. If Bill said she was to go, she supposed she was going to London tomorrow.
“Why would he want to meet with Evie?” Rob demanded with a frown.
“I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” Bill said reassuringly. “More than likely, he just wants to make sure that you both know you have allies in London should you ever need them. It’s our way of taking care of our own, you see.”
Rob continued to frown. “I don’t see, but if you vouch for him, I don’t suppose I can say anything to stop it.”
“I’ll be fine,” Evelyn said with a quick smile. “I’ll take the train down in the morning and be back after dinner.”
“William!” a voice called from behind them. “Come tell Madeleine about when you and Robert got stranded in Marseilles!”
Bill grinned apologetically and turned to join his wife and Madeleine, walking quite a way behind. Evelyn tucked her arm through her brothers again as they walked along the lane.
“I think I want to know what happened when they got stranded in Marseilles,” she said. “Can you imagine Dad stranded anywhere?”
“No,” he admitted. “I feel sorry for whoever was ultimately responsible for it.”
They walked along in silence ahead of the others. The day was crisp and cool, with the sun shining brightly above. They went up the main road of the village, thanking those who stopped and called out their condolences. Then they were in the countryside, the road lined with thick hedgerows and tall trees. Surrounded by the comfortable smell of boxwood that Evelyn would always associate with home, she took a deep breath of fresh, clean air and looked up at Rob.
“How’s the flying?”
He looked down at her with a smile. “Fantastic. How’s the top-secret training?”
Evelyn couldn’t stop the grin that crossed her face. When the RAF resurrected the WAAFs over the summer, they had unwittingly provided the perfect cover story for her. Bill had quickly arranged for her to be assigned to a WAAF training base in Scotland. No one in her family knew what she did there, nor would they ever know. All she told them was that the work was classified. Her parents had accepted the story readily enough, but Rob never missed an opportunity to tease her.
“Top-secret,” she replied dryly. “Is it true you’ve been training non-stop since July?”
“More like August,” he said with a shrug. “I fly every day, and three nights a week. When Jerry comes, we’ll be ready.”
“I imagine you’ll be one of the first to know, flying Spitfires,” she said absently, her eyes darting to the left. Movement through the trees caught her attention and she frowned. “How do you like being at Duxford? Is it everything you thought it would be?”
“More,” he answered promptly. “The Spit’s a fantastic kite! Handles like a dream.”
They passed another hedgerow and Evelyn glanced through the trees again. The speck she had glimpsed before was on the other side of the field, moving quickly. Her eyes narrowed and her frown grew. Someone was riding a horse across the field towards Ainsworth Manor. She picked up her pace slightly.
“And your new CO? Do you like him?” she asked.
“He’s strict and keeps us in line, but he’s a bloody good pilot. I can’t ask for better than that.” Rob hesitated, then looked down at her. “And you? How do you like Scotland?”
“It’s cold,” she said promptly, drawing a laugh from him. “I’m doing something that makes me feel like I can contribute to this war, so I’m content.”
“I don’t know if this war is ever going to get off the ground, but if it does, the WAAFs are lucky to have you,” Rob said after a long moment.
Evelyn tore her gaze away from the speck in the field to look at him in surprise.
“Why do you say that?”
He grinned.
“Because you’re the type who never backs down, no matter what happens. You’re bloody-minded and stubborn, and God help any Jerry who gets within range!”
She laughed. “Speak for yourself! I feel sorry for the pilot who has to go up against you!”
Rob grinned, then sobered.
“We’re going to get through this just fine, Evie,” he said suddenly, his blue eyes meeting hers. “You’ll see. We’ll all be home by Christmas.”
The horse and rider came to an abrupt halt just outside the perimeter of the sprawling gardens stretching endlessly before the back of Ainsworth Manor. The original structure had been built in stone over three centuries before. Over the years, four separate wings were added and modern upgrades made, resulting in a massive labyrinth of corridors and stairwells. Two of the wings had been closed off twenty years before, after the last war had taken most of the servants from the estate. When the war ended and life returned to normal, Robert Ainsworth had left them closed, happy to occupy the remaining two wings and the original structure. They afforded more than enough room for his small family.
After giving the closed off sections a cursory glance, the rider directed his attention to a window on the lower floor, to the right of the stone patio facing him. He controlled his horse with a firm hand and they were both still. After studying the side of the house and the surrounding gardens, he slowly dismounted and tethered his horse, moving quietly through the immaculate lawns towards the house. The family would be back from the funeral soon, and it was now or never, as the saying went.
He slipped behind a large group of boxwoods and reached into his coat, extracting a battered old hunting cap and setting it on his head. He was under strict orders not arouse suspicion in the locals. After satisfying himself that he probably looked like a country squire out for a walk, he moved out from the shelter of the bushes, continuing through the maze of well-tended gardens until he was near the house.
The funeral would be just finishing up, and then there would be the condolences from the villagers. Silly things, funerals, arranged for the mourners to say goodbye to their loved ones. As if one could say goodbye to a corpse. Damned silly.
A sharp crack under one foot made the rider pause and look down with a frown. A thick branch had snapped in two under his boot. He should have been watching where he put his foot. Hopefully there wasn’t an over-eager gardener lurking around. After listening for a moment, he moved on.
Evelyn slipped past the stables where four horses were settled comfortably in their stalls. A quick check inside assured her that all were present and accounted for. The mysterious rider was not one of the grooms then, taking a horse out for exercise.
Crossing the stable yard, she moved around the east wing and scanned the scene before her. The South lawns were immaculate and still, the breeze barely disturbing the rows of flowers and artfully arranged hedges and bushes. Even the fountain at the bottom of the first lawn was still, water not pouring from the spout of the fanciful leaping unicorn. Everything was still and quiet. Too quiet.
She had left Rob and her mother in the house with the explanation that she wanted to go upstairs and splash water on her face. Once out of sight, she slipped out the door and went around to the side of the house facing the field. Looking around slowly, Evelyn moved forward. She didn’t know what she expected to find, but she knew that something wasn’t right. No one with any business being here would cut across the field on horseback when there was a funeral taking place in the village. It just wasn’t done.
A sharp pop from a branch brought her up short and she scanned the hedgerows nearby. Everything was silent for a moment, then she heard the unmistakable sound of a person moving through the garden towards the house.
She moved around the corner to conceal herself behind the wall of the terrace that stretched the entire length of the house. A few seconds later, she heard someone vault lightly over the balustrade and land on the flagged stones on the other side. Only two rooms faced the south lawn and opened onto the terrace on this side of the drawing room. One was the billiard room, and the other was her father’s study.
The click of the window casing caused Evelyn to reach down for a large rock near her feet. Her intention was to throw the rock into the garden behind the terrace and make the intruder think someone was there. When he turned back towards the railing, she could intercept him.
Before her fingers touched the rock, a chorus of barking erupted from the right and her father’s three hunting dogs came bounding from the direction of the woods. Evelyn stared at them, then stood up quickly. It was too late. She saw only the back of a tall man dressed in a long black coat as he disappeared into the trees on the left side of the terrace.
The dogs caught sight of her and lost interest in the man whom they had first sighted. Tom, Dick and Harry swarmed around Evelyn, barking joyfully in greeting. Dick held something clamped between his teeth and she bent to pull it away from him. Evelyn straightened up slowly and glanced towards the trees. It was a brown leather strip and, unless she was very much mistaken, it was part of a bridle.
