She appeared, as always, calm and composed.
“Have you not guessed?”
“Not an agent for the French Crown, as I once supposed, but for the British?” I proposed.
“Just so,” she agreed. “We have been aware for some time of the danger to the East India Company on two fronts. First, the French wished to infiltrate that they might steal secrets and, if possible, do damage. As you have no doubt supposed, we could not permit such a thing to happen. To that end, we have been cooperating with the Indian Mogul, who may be uneasy about British presence but is wise enough to want to keep his country from becoming a battleground of European powers. Thus I was working in at least some degree of concert with Aadil Baghat. I don’t pretend to believe he was entirely forthcoming with me any more than I was with him, but I knew him to be a good man, and I am genuinely grieved to learn of his death. These French are devils who will stop at nothing.” Something like grief passed across her face, but it was gone in an instant.
“You said there were two goals the French wished to accomplish.”
“Yes,” she said. “The second is Mr. Pepper’s engine. If the plans for this device should fall into the wrong hands, it could do great harm to the East India Company. Tea and spices may provide revenue, but it is the textile trade that makes it great. Without that trade, it is but a commercial concern.”
“And what is it now?” Elias asked.
“The new face of empire, of course,” she answered. “Imagine the possibilities. The British Crown may place its stamp, wield its power, see its will done in nations all about the earth, and never have to deploy its military or naval might, never have to convince its own citizens to leave their homes and move to a foreign and inhospitable land. The East India Company has shown us the way with its mercantile conquest. They fund their own expansions, pay for their own armies, establish their own governors. And all the while, British markets expand, British influence grows, and British power swells. Can you truly wonder why we would wish to protect the Company at nearly any cost?”
“So you wish to crush the fruit of British ingenuity in order to promote British empire?” Elias asked.
“Oh, let us not be so uneasy about it, Mr. Gordon. Mr. Pepper is, after all, dead, and he can gain nothing by the promotion of his engine.”
“What of his widow?” I said, immediately regretting the question.
“Which one? Do you think any of those unfortunates would ever see a penny, even if the Pepper engine were to be developed? The rights to the inheritance would be caught up in the courts for years, and the lawyers themselves would contrive to steal every penny of it.”
“If one man might invent it,” I proposed, “might not another?”
“It is possible and may even be inevitable, but it need not be now. The world will not know that such a thing was ever invented, and as possibility is the breeding ground for creativity, no one will think to try to make it anew. If the notion of turning colonial cotton into India-like calico never occurs to anyone, no one will invent it. The task of the Parliament is to keep textiles cheap and easily accessible so that no one needs to go about inventing and altering the system. There are many who believe Parliament made a terrible mistake in the 1721 legislation, and I am one of them. Still, what is done can be undone.”
“Are we not forgetting something?” I asked. “Mr. Pepper was killed—murdered—by the East India Company. I cannot believe it is in the government’s interests to condone such diabolical lawlessness.”
“Mr. Pepper’s fate is unclear,” she answered. “It may not have been the Company that harmed him at all. He had other enemies—his wives, for example—and any one of them might have decided that he had overstayed his welcome. It may be the French killed him in a misplaced effort to obtain his plans. Right now we cannot say which of these possibilities is most likely.”
And there was another possibility, one I dared not speak aloud—that it was not the East India Company but the government itself that had decided it could not risk Pepper’s continued works. “As a thief-taker,” I said, “it may well be worth my while to inquire into the death of Mr. Pepper and discover who brought about his end. If I can bring the murderer to justice, I should receive a handsome bounty from the state, after all.”
“I fear, sir, you will not have time to do that. You will be working for someone else.”
“And who is that?”
“Why, me, of course.” Her grin, open and joyous and confident all at once, nearly unmanned me. “I am hiring you, sir, for the very generous fee of twenty pounds, to perform a few services on behalf of your king.”
I looked away, having no wish to be drawn in by her beauty. “I’ll not be anyone’s puppet. Not any longer. Hammond’s days are quite clearly numbered, and I must believe that his ability to threaten me and my friends must come to an end.”
“The ability to threaten, yes, but there are still the debts. You may depend on a generous government ordering those matters to your satisfaction. And there is another matter, sir. The business of the late election involved you in all manners of mischief. You had a private meeting with this nation’s greatest enemy, a man who would overthrow our government by force. Perhaps you believe that your dealings with the Pretender are unknown to the ministry, but I promise you they are known in the highest circles of Whitehall. By entertaining his conversation and by not reporting his activities, you committed treason—a capital crime, as you must know.”
Elias spoke up before I had the opportunity. “Damme, but you know little of Weaver. If you think to put this gentleman in thrall with your threats to his person, you are far more foolish than I could have supposed.”
She smiled at him—so pretty and knowing. “I make no threats, I promise you.” She turned to me. “There is no threat, for the danger is past. I mention the incident, sir, not to make you uneasy but to tell you of a component of which you have until now been ignorant. After your meeting with the Pretender, your enemies at Whitehall argued that you were too dangerous, the rebels would one day or another win you to their side, and you must be punished as an example. I tell you this not to aggrandize myself, but so you will know I was your benefactor before we even met. I convinced Mr. Walpole, First Lord of the Treasury, whose influence reigns supreme, to leave you be, arguing that a man of your skills and integrity would yet serve his kingdom.”
“You interceded on my behalf?” I asked. “Why?”
She shrugged. “Maybe because I believed this day might come. Maybe because I believed it to be the right thing to do. Maybe because I knew you were no traitor, but a man caught between impossible choices, and though you did not act to harm the Pretender, you did not join with him either.”
I shook my head. “I hardly know how to answer this.”
“You need not, except to listen to my request. Your king calls upon you to serve, Mr. Weaver. Will you do so? I cannot think but that your own sense of rectitude must lead you to join our cause, particularly when you learn what we wish of you.”
“And what is that?”
“We wish you to break into Hammond’s house and liberate your friend, Mr. Franco. It shan’t be too hard, particularly with Cobb gone. They can ill afford to have servants disturbing their affairs, so there are but two men there besides your friend. Liberate him, sir, and in exchange for this service, we shall pay you the twenty-pound bounty mentioned before and return order to the financial mayhem wrought against you and your friends.”
“A munificent offer,” I noted, “particularly since you offer to pay me for what you know I would do willingly.”
“There is, however, one more aspect to your task. Did you not wonder what was so important that Mr. Cobb would abandon his work here and fly to France? We found in his care a book of code which he confessed contained a copy of Pepper’s plans for the calico engine. It has since been destroyed, but we now know that the original and only extant copy of the plans is being held by Mr. Hammond. It is a small calfskin book, containing all manner of diagrams and drawings. It must be under protection in that house. Go rescue your friend, and while you are at it, find the plans and return them to us.”
“Why should I incur such an additional risk?” I asked. “I care only for Franco, and not a jot for the East India Company.”
She smiled. “Even if you were to ignore the debt you owe to your kingdom, I do not believe you would remain content to leave the plans for the engine in the care of those who have harmed your friends. The French are behind all this mischief. They have desired those plans more than anything else in the world, and now they have them. Would it not be sweet to take them away?”
I nodded. “You’re right,” I said. “You know me well enough to understand I can neither ignore the debt I owe you nor endure such a victory on their part. I will get the plans.”
“When you deliver them, you’ll receive your bounty,” she said.
