Friday, January 10
Maurice Buckman waited while Joan Hellier ascended the stairs into the upper chamber of the Black Swan. He put on his spectacles and watched her from the shadow. “You are late,” he said, as soon as she appeared in the light of the candle.
“I am sorry, Father,” replied Joan. “I was making sure I was not followed.”
“That is good but it does not excuse lateness.”
Joan bowed. “As I said, Father, I am sorry.”
“Clarenceux’s daughter—is there any news of her?”
“Sarah Cowie and Ann Thwaite have both been watching the house. Neither of them has seen anything to indicate any change.”
“It is good that the girl is still alive. The more we hurt his family and yet leave them living, the more we can impress upon him our seriousness.”
Joan stared into the darkness. “Why was there no bullet in Jane’s gun?”
“It was important that she not kill Clarenceux, merely make him believe he was under attack. It was unfortunate that she obtained another gun—we were lucky she did not use that one on Clarenceux.”
“You wanted Greystoke to kill Jane? You sent an innocent woman to her death!”
“Her life was already forfeit. She was already dead in the eyes of the law. I needed someone to attack Clarenceux, so Greystoke could show his loyalty by killing her. Would you rather I had chosen you?”
“No, but I regret her death. She was innocent—even of the crime for which she had been condemned.”
“We are all innocent. We all have good honest reasons for doing what we do. Even Clarenceux can justify his actions, if only to himself. But we are not concerned with understanding and forgiving—that is God’s business.”
Joan bit her lip. There was no point in saying anything else. She was just a mercenary in this war.