Page 100 of The Seaside Homecoming
And whispers fame, wealth, glory:
Ah! What are they to love!”
As she sang of glory and love, Claire’s vision filled with more images of the past. Then, recalling her surroundings, she risked a glance at the assembled company.
From across the room, she met William’s gaze, his eyes simmering with admiration. But could he ever love anyone as he had his wife?
23
A really effective cipher is literally worth far more than its weight in gold.
—François de Callières,The Practice of Diplomacy
When they arrived back at Broadbridge’s, Sonali took a sleepy Mira straight up to bed. Claire and Mr. Hammond hung up their outer things and stepped into the morning room.
Fran Farrant rose from where she sat sewing near the hearth. “Good dinner?” she asked.
“Yes, very. Thank you for coming over so we could all go.”
“My pleasure. Anytime.” Fran gathered her things and bid them farewell, planning to meet her husband at the nearby London Inn for a ride home.
Mr. Hammond followed her out, no doubt offering some compensation for her trouble.
When he returned, Claire asked, “Shall I make tea?”
“No need. I have had plenty.” He gestured her into the chair drawn up to the fire and sat in another close by.
She asked, “How are you even familiar with the Scottish foods you asked about at dinner?”
“Ah. While in Constantinople, I served under Sir Robert Liston—ambassador and Scotsman. He often mentioned how much he missed food from home.”
“I see.” Claire hesitated, then asked another question. “What did Major Hutton mean about your work—current work, apparently—for the Foreign Office?”
“I was afraid you’d caught that. Hopefully others were not so quick.” He shook his head. “I am admonished by one of your brothers-in-law to remain discreet, while another blurts it out at a dinner party.”
“Sorry about that.” Claire knew it was at least partly her fault. The major had been trying to shift the focus away from her time in Scotland. “I hope you know you can trust me.”
“Well, as both your brothers-in-law and likely their wives already know, I don’t think much harm can come from telling you. But I do need to ask for your discretion.”
“Of course.”
“Mr. Thomson recently came to me on behalf of his employer, Sir Thomas Acland. Sir Thomas had been contacted by the Foreign Office, who, aware I was living near him in Sidmouth, requested he approach me about a special project. They want me to decipher a cache of French dispatches found in a ship captured near the end of the war—the hidden compartment only recently discovered.
“These dispatches are written in a code our Foreign Office had not seen before. Not the Great Paris Cipher that Scovell unlocked during the war. A different code. It makes sense—once the French learned we had their cipher, they would have lost no time creating a new one. This one is a proper diplomatic cipher, but more complex than the one we used under Sir Robert.”
“That’s what you’ve been working on in your study all hours?”
He nodded.
“I thought a diplomat would be involved in, I don’t know, embassy parties, treaties, negotiations....”
“Not all the duties are so lofty. As an attaché, I handled the passport work, composed, corrected, and copied papers, and studied the local language. I like mastering languages, but most of the other tasks were tedious. Later I was asked to learn to encipher and decipher the coded messages used in dispatches to protect government secrets. Others loathed the work, yet I liked it and, if not vain to say, excelled at it. Soon I was ciphering and deciphering codes much more rapidly and accurately than anyone else. I was charged with creating a new cipher to improve security should our dispatches fall into enemy hands. I did so with relish. I was then asked to train others in the new system, first in one mission, then another: Vienna, The Hague, St. Petersburg. I found the work engrossing. Perhaps it sounds odd, but my brain loves a challenging puzzle. It’s almost addictive.”
He ran a hand over his face. “After we had Mira, I often worked late into the night, sometimes sleeping a few hours in the chancery instead of going home to my wife. I felt guilty about it but continued on, finally gaining recognition for my work. Fool that I am, I believed that’s what was important.
“I thought I had given it all up when I came here. I was astonished when Mr. Thomson asked me to complete this project. The foreign secretary thinks it might help us be better prepared in the future, should another threat arise. No guarantee, of course, but I was convinced the work might prove worthwhile—at least, more worthwhile than chatting with guests and answering boarding-house correspondence.”
He looked at her, expression uncertain. “Do you think I was wrong to agree? I don’t want to revert to the man who put work above all else—above family, worst of all.”
