Walking the road uphill towards the parsonage, we met the postman. He handed me a letter that struck ice down my spine. It was enclosed in a plain envelope addressed to me in the same elegant script as the letter that the villain had sent me via M. Heger in Brussels. I opened it with trembling hands. Inside I found banknotes, a railway timetable, and a letter that read:
My dear Miss Bronte,
How pleased I am that you have accepted my offer. Please take the train to Cornwall that I have marked in the timetable. You will receive further instructions at the station in Penzance. I wish you a safe journey.
28
When writing a fictitious story, one should always choose the most exciting possible course for the story to follow. Characters in a book should experience action rather than inertia, and thrills rather than contentment. How fitting, therefore, that what I would write in fiction is what transpired in actuality. But life, unlike fiction, guarantees no happy ending. The dangers I faced were not mere words that could be expunged by the scribble of a pen. The villain who had summoned me was not harmless ink on paper but flesh and blood.
These notions haunted me as I journeyed by rail towards Penzance. That town is located in Cornwall, the county at England’s southwest extremity. Dread of an evil, ruthless man sank deeper into my bones while I traveled past fishing villages that clung to cliffs above the glittering blue sea. In meadows green and gold beneath the southern sun rose dark stone pillars, monuments built by ancient folk for mysterious rituals. The ruins of Roman fortifications dotted the countryside. This was the land where King Arthur was born at Tintagel. Would that I were an ordinary traveler, come to explore the scenes of legend!
A casual observer might suppose I journeyed by myself; but Mr. Slade had kept his promise that I should not go unaccompanied. He rode, disguised, somewhere on the train. At all times seated near me was a Foreign Office agent, duty bound to protect me. Other agents had been dispatched to Penzance to arrange for the surveillance and capture of our quarry. Yet I felt as alone as if I had entered another world. How I wish I had heeded the objections raised by Papa, Emily, Anne, and Slade when they learned I’d been summoned!
“Dear Charlotte, you mustn’t go,” Anne had said.
“How else will we locate the villain?” I countered.
“We now know he is in Cornwall,” said Papa. “Let Mr. Slade and his colleagues seek him out.”
“He could be anywhere in an area thousands of acres in breadth,” I said. “Or perhaps he’s not there at all. Perhaps the instructions I receive in Penzance will send me on to some other, unknown place where he awaits me.”
“Mr. Slade can intercept the instructions,” Emily said.
“But what if the villain sends a henchman to deliver the instructions only to me?” I said.
“We can watch the station for anyone who looks to be waiting for you,” Mr. Slade said. “When he leaves, we can follow him to his master.”
“That would do very well, if you pick the right person,” I said. “Bear in mind that he may not know where his master is, and may only have orders to deliver me to some place to be fetched later by someone else.”
“He can direct us to the next link in the chain leading to the villain,” Mr. Slade said.
“If I don’t appear,” I said, “the villain will know that something has gone awry with his plans. He’ll go deeper into hiding.”
“Even worse, he may deduce that Charlotte betrayed him and seek revenge,” Emily said, reluctantly taking my side.
“We shall all be in more danger than before.” Worry shadowed Anne’s face.
“And no one can recognize him except me,” I said. “I have at least heard his voice.”
Papa nodded, unhappy but persuaded by our logic. Together my family and I convinced Mr. Slade that I should obey the summons. I must confess that I did so for other reasons than those I’d spoken, and not only out of a desire to protect Britain. Although Isabel White had been reduced to a small portion of a larger concern, I still felt a duty to gain justice for her. My sense of obligation extended to Mr. Slade. If the villain remained free, Mr. Slade would bear the blame. Furthermore, going to Cornwall would prolong my association with him the only way I knew how.
Hence, we traveled to London to report our plan to his superiors and procure their aid. We expected opposition from Lord Unwin, but received none. The murders at the Paradise Club had outraged the government’s highest echelons. Pressure to apprehend the culprit had been brought to bear upon Lord Unwin. His own welfare was more important to him than my safety, and his need to win favor among his superiors outweighed the risk that Mr. Slade might fail him again. Therefore, he quickly supplied all the helpers and funds that Mr. Slade requested.
Now, on 29 August, the train approached Penzance. The village climbed the hills in tiers of whitewashed stone houses around Mount’s Bay. A causeway extended to St. Michael’s Mount, a rocky islet crowned by a castle. Seabirds screeched from rooftops and harbor; brick chimneys arose from tin mines. Grey clouds blanketed the sky; the fishing fleet drifted on the lead-colored ocean. Through the open window blew the smells of sea, fish, and tar; the misty drizzle tasted of salt. My dread expanded so large in me that I almost suffocated. In the station, I faltered onto the platform amidst citizens who spoke the strange Cornish dialect. Suddenly a man jostled me. He pressed into my hand a small, folded square of paper.
“Excuse me,” he said.
No sooner did I recognize Mr. Slade’s voice, than he was gone so quickly that I barely glimpsed him. As I secreted the paper in my pocket, I heard my name called. I turned and found myself facing a tall man, some forty- five years of age, with a languid, slouching stance. His hair was blond, his features handsome, his country tweeds impeccably tailored.
“Yes?” I stammered in reply.
The man smiled and bowed. “An honor to make your acquaintance. Kindly allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tony Hitchman. I’ve been appointed to meet you.”
I realized at once that Mr. Hitchman was not the man who had invited me: His speech was the proper diction of the British upper classes, free from any foreign accent.
“Had a pleasant journey, I hope?” Mr. Hitchman said.
As I answered that I had, I gleaned a closer inspection of him. Behind his languid posture I sensed the alertness of a predatory beast ready to spring. His smile had a roguish cast, emphasized by a scar that snaked down his left cheek. His pale green eyes were cold, their appraisal of me too direct. All told, I doubted that Hitchman was the respectable gentleman he seemed on the surface. My distrust of him exceeded what I would have felt towards anyone associated with the villain who’d brought me here. And I perceived that the distrust was mutual.
“This is Nick,” he said, indicating a man hovering near us.
Nick was swarthy, his strong build clothed in rough garments, his dark eyes shadowed by heavy lids. He nodded me a silent greeting and lifted my bags.
“If you’ll please come this way?” Hitchman said.
Everything in me rebelled against going with them-but I had promised to lead Mr. Slade to the villain. Quaking from fear, I allowed Hitchman to guide me to a carriage. Nick stowed my bags and took the reins; Hitchman sat beside me. The carriage wended through narrow, rising crooked lanes, past fishermen’s cottages and the brick buildings of shops. Below us I saw boats clustered in the harbor, and a handsome promenade along the shore.
“Ever been in Penzance before?” Mr. Hitchman asked.
“No,” I said, fighting the urge to look backward and see if Mr. Slade was following us.
As we drove through the town, curiosity momentarily abated my terror. Here had my maternal grandfather been a tea merchant and my grandmother the daughter of a silversmith. After their deaths my mother had left Penzance; I had never ventured to these parts. I wondered if any of the people I saw on the streets were my relations, whose acquaintance I would have liked to make.
“What have you been told about the terms of your employment?” Hitchman said.
“Nothing,” said I. “Perhaps you could tell me what my duties are?”
