Page 65
Baines gave a grim nod. “Alternatively, they may decide that waiting is more dangerous than rising.”
Will looked between them. “That is why I came. There are men talking as though something is to happen within days, and now word is going around that the magistrates intend to seize everyone together.”
Judith glanced at the newspaper. The words seemed uglier now. Whoever had carried Sir George’s conversation out of Blackthorn had not merely betrayed a confidence, he had dropped a spark into a room already filled with powder. “Have you passed on my latest letter?” she asked.
Will hesitated.
Baines looked at her.
Judith ignored him. “Will?”
“Not yet.”
Relief came so swiftly that she nearly swayed with it. “Do not.”
Will blinked. “Miss?”
“Return it to me.”
“But you said—”
“I know what I said. I have changed my mind.”
He reached inside his coat and produced the folded note. Judith took it quickly.
Baines watched the exchange without comment, though she could feel his attention upon her.
Will frowned. “You wrote against violence.”
“I did, but I no longer know where it will go once it leaves my hand, nor who might alter it, quote it, or place it beside something I never intended to support. Until I understand the route, I shall send nothing.”
For the first time since she had met him, Baines did not make a joke at her expense.
“I think that is exceedingly sensible,” he said quietly.
Will looked between them with a bewildered expression. “Should I be listening for anything else?”
“Yes,” Judith and Baines answered together.
They turned towards one another.
Baines smiled despite the circumstances and gestured politely with his hand. “After you.”
Judith resisted the absurd urge to smile back. “Find out who is spreading word of the strike locally, but do not involve yourself. You listen, nothing more.”
Baines nodded. “If anyone asks you specifically about Blackthorn, its guests, the magistrates, or troop movements, you tell Miss Finch immediately.”
Judith looked at him.
“Miss Finch?”
“You appear to have recruited my informant.”
“Our informant, surely.”
“He was mine first.”
Will groaned. “I should have kept my mummer closed.”
