A man came to me yesterday, and with monstrous news.
The past weeks have been somewhat mildly idyllic. I have made progress on my trials, Bertrand is reading more fluently than ever, and I am better at chess—against Bertrand at least—than I have ever been in my life. I am worried for Amelie, so far away without me, for our new baby is due soon, but I know that Marc and Elise and our other friends will keep her safe and well. Boredom is ever present, and I have been eager for Trout to make his move, whatever it may be.
I am eager no longer.
The man was a Cumbrian soldier. It was plain to see it by his bearing and posture, though he wore countryman’s clothes; and had I any doubts they were dispersed by the letter he handed to me, and the ring he showed me to identify himself: my cousin Jack’s ring. The letter was unsigned, but I know Jack’s handwriting and mode of speech.
You have gotten yourself into a pickle! A fast packet returned from Yorke today with answers to His Lordship’s queries. Trout is known to His Majesty’s intelligencers, thought not as well as they would like, and they have dearly been wanting a word with him for some time. I do not have all of the details—the message we received was absurdly uninformative—but I gather the man is part of some plot against His Majesty’s government. And given Trout’s efforts to isolate and control you I can guess that the Former’s Guild in Yorke is involved in some way, or perhaps I should say embroiled, for no one can think of your father as being disloyal to the crown without laughing. No, if there is treachery in the Guild it is lower down.
I think it more likely, though, that Trout’s co-conspirators are simply using you to put pressure on your father—to extort from him some action they desire by holding you as a hostage. I can hear you laughing bitterly. He has forbidden your name to be mentioned, it is true…and yet m’mother has found him lingering near the door of the drawing room after her visits with your own mater, and this more than once.
Regarding your master’s chain and the status of the Armorican Former’s Guild, I have two points of information. First, it is unclear where Trout acquired the chain he gave you; no one in the Yorke guild house seems to know anything about it, or will admit it if they do. Second, your father has certainly heard that you have claimed the Armorican Guild, and he seems to be quietly delighted. “A master stroke,” I believe he was heard to mutter to himself. (And by-the-by, I do not believe the pun was intended. This is your father I’m speaking of.) This may be the cause of his lurking around drawing room doors!
The bearer of this letter is Sergeant Travers. We know that you are expecting Trout tomorrow, and we intend to take him, package him neatly, and ship him off home. If it were possible we would nab him before he ever reaches your farm, but His Lordship has a notion. Travers will fill you in. There is some risk, but I believe you are equal to it. And once it is all over, of course, Travers and his men will see you back to Mont-Havre.
Now it is early morning; it is some hours before I expect Trout, for he usually arrives at midday, but I cannot sleep. May the Good Lord protect us all!