“They talk about her in the kitchen,” Geoffrey went on. “Because the other lord said he met her on his walks. Cook thinks she’s a French spy. Only Bradford said that’s daft because the war’s over. And anyway, what would she spy on here? Lily reckons she’s run away from a tie-rannical husband.”
Jean and Mrs. Thorpe looked at Lily, who flushed.
“Ithink Clayton knows,” Geoffrey added. “He looks like he does. But he won’t tell.”
“I was staying in a cottage for a bit of rest,” said Mrs. Thorpe. “Not hiding. Or spying.”
Geoffrey looked disappointed.
“I did meet a French spy once though.”
“You did?”
Mrs. Thorpe nodded. “Shall I tell you the story?”
An affirmative chorus encouraged her.
“Come and sit.” Mrs. Thorpe settled on a battered sofa. Her audience found seats around her, Geoffrey right at her side.
“The young man in question—his name was Etienne—joined a London theater company as a cover.”
“What’s a cover?” asked Geoffrey.
“He pretended to be an actor. Do you know what an actor is?”
The boy looked wary, as if he didn’t want to admit ignorance and yet wished for information.
“It’s like when you’re Robin Hood and I’m the sheriff,” said Tom. “That’s playacting. Only actors do it inside a big building in front of a load of people.”
“Like a barn?”
Tom shook his head. “A fancy building with velvet draperies and chairs. The actors have special clothes to wear. Sometimes there’s dancing.” Seeing that the others were looking at him, he added, “I saw a play once—part of one—in Bristol.”
“So the spy was pretending to pretend,” Geoffrey said.
He really was an exceptionally quick child, Jean thought as Mrs. Thorpe nodded. “But after a while, Etienne found that he enjoyed acting more than spying,” said the older woman.
“Why would he?” Geoffrey wrinkled his nose. “Didn’t he want to sneak around and find secrets? And fight with swords?”
“Well, I’m afraid he wasn’t very good at any of those things. And he was rather a good actor. Audiences loved him.”
Jean caught the twinkle in Mrs. Thorpe’s eyes. She wondered how well the lady had known this young Frenchman.
“So he just stopped being a spy?” Geoffrey asked with disgust.
“He might have, but someone, er, tattled on him. One of the other actors told the Home Office he was a spy. It seemed he would be arrested.”
“Sothenhe had to fight.”
Mrs. Thorpe looked rueful, clearly aware that her tale wasn’t going over well with her smallest listener. “Etienne decided to go back to France,” she continued. “We, some people I know, dressed him as a young lady so that he could slip away to a ship.”
Geoffrey gazed up at her. “He ran away? Dressed as a girl?”
“Yes. It was his most challenging role, and he did it superbly. He made it home, too. After a while, he went to work in a theater in Paris, and he’s still there. He specializes in playing oafish Englishmen.”
“Really?” asked Jean.
“All quite true,” said Mrs. Thorpe with a graceful gesture. “You might say we shouldn’t have helped him, but he had no important information, and we couldn’t see him hanged.”