Page 43 of The Elusive Phoebe (The Widows of Lavender Cottage #1)

As Archie began the delicate process of connecting the three devices, footsteps echoed in the main house below. Multiple sets of footsteps, moving with purpose .

"Hollings?" Phoebe called, but there was no answer.

Archie quickly finished assembling the cipher device, and as the final piece clicked into place, the combined mechanism began to glow with an inner light. Symbols appeared on its various surfaces—a complex code that would take time to decipher.

The footsteps were closer now, definitely heading toward the study.

They hurried out of the room, closed the door and replaced the picture just as

the study door knob rattled. Hollings voice carried to them through the door. “I must apologize, my lord. The lady of the house is quite fatigued from her journey and has, as you can see, locked the door to the study.”

“Open this at once, by order of the Crown. We don’t have time to waste on stubborn servants.”

Phoebe pressed her lips together. She was not interested in traitorous bullies. She opened the door herself. Hollings stood tall, with warning in his eyes. Behind him stood three men in the dark clothing of government officials, and none of them looked friendly.

"Lady Smalling," the lead man said with a cold smile, "how convenient to find you here. We've been searching for you for quite some time."

"And you are?" Phoebe demanded, her voice steady despite the obvious threat.

"Lord Pemberton, acting on behalf of His Majesty's government. We have reason to believe you possess materials vital to national security."

“And why would you think that? My lord, I’ve recently lost my husband. I’ve come a long way. I would like to retire. Perhaps you can return another day?”

The man’s eyes flashed with something steely and hard. “That will not be possible. If you could provide what we are looking for, or simply let us have a look around ourselves, I’m sure we can be on our way and you can get your rest.” He stepped forward, ready to shift Phoebe aside.

"I think not," Archie replied, standing tall behind her.

“Oh, come now Lord Lytton. Surely you can see that we are here as a matter of security, for England. Why hold so much loyalty to a man neither of you knew?”

“We know him.” They both responded together.

Lord Pemberton’s ease of manner dropped considerably. “Cooperate. Make this easy on yourselves.” He reached a hand out to grip Pheobe’s arm, but she stepped back and Archie knocked it aside. “Don’t touch her.”

The men with Lord Pemberton stepped closer, but Archie drew his pistol smoothly. "Phoebe, stay behind me."

"How dramatic," Pemberton said, though his companions also reached for weapons. "But hardly necessary. We simply want what your late husband stole from the government."

"My husband stole nothing," Phoebe said fiercely. "He served the Crown faithfully."

"Your husband," Pemberton replied, "gathered evidence that certain patriotic officials have been pursuing alternative methods of ensuring England's security. Methods that small minds might misinterpret as treasonous."

"Alternative methods?" Archie's voice dripped with disgust. "You mean collaborating with England's enemies."

"I mean," Pemberton said, his facade of civility finally dropping, "ensuring that England emerges from these turbulent times under proper leadership. Leadership that understands the value of... pragmatic alliances."

"Pragmatic alliances with England's enemies," Archie said coldly, his pistol still trained on the intruders. "That's called treason. "

"Such a limited perspective," Pemberton replied. "But we seem to have reached an impasse. You have something we need, and we have... leverage."

"What leverage?" Phoebe demanded.

In answer, Pemberton gestured toward the door, where one of his men had produced a heavy iron key. "This house, Lady Smalling. Your servants. Your... freedom." He smiled unpleasantly. "We can wait as long as necessary."

The sound of the key turning in the lock echoed with finality through the study. They were trapped.

"Now then," Pemberton continued, settling into one of Robert's leather chairs as if he owned the place, "let's discuss terms. You give us Robert's files and any devices he may have created, and we allow you to live quietly on one of your remote estates. Refuse, and..." He shrugged eloquently.

"And what?" Archie asked, though he kept his weapon ready.

"And you disappear. Tragic accidents happen all the time in London. Fires, robberies gone wrong, carriage mishaps." Pemberton's tone was conversational, which somehow made the threats more chilling. "Of course, we'd prefer a peaceful resolution. "

"We will not negotiate with you," Phoebe said flatly.

Pemberton chuckled. "Such spirit. Robert always said you were remarkable. It's a pity he's not here to see how this ends."

The next several hours passed in tense standoff. Pemberton and his men made themselves comfortable, clearly prepared for a siege, while Archie and Phoebe huddled near the concealed chamber, whispering plans and contingencies. “I’ve seen Lord Pemberton before.”

Phoebe raised her eyebrows.

“Yes. He was in a place of ill repute in London. I thought it odd and then thought it simply a place no lady needs to hear reports of, but now, I wonder if more goes on there than I suspected.”

Outside the locked door, they could hear occasional footsteps, muffled voices, and the sounds of the house continuing its daily routine. But whether those sounds represented loyal servants going about their duties or Pemberton's people taking control of the household, they had no way of knowing.

"Hollings seemed genuinely protective," Phoebe whispered as afternoon faded to evening. "If he's anything like the staff at my other properties..."

"Then he'll find a way to get word out," Archie finished quietly. "The question is how long we can hold out."

They had water from a carafe on Robert's desk, but no food, and Pemberton showed no signs of growing impatient. If anything, he seemed to be enjoying their predicament.

"Tell me about India," Phoebe said softly as the hours dragged on. "Help me think about something else."

Archie told her about monsoons and markets, about the challenge of building a business in a foreign land, about nights when he'd stood on his veranda watching tropical storms and thinking of a girl with auburn hair who might never forgive him for leaving her behind.

"I thought about you every day," he admitted as darkness fell outside the study windows. "Wondered if you were happy, if you'd learned to love Robert, if you ever thought of our promises to each other."

"I thought about you too," Phoebe confessed. "Especially during the loneliest times. I used to imagine what you might be doing, whether you'd found someone else to love."

"Never," Archie said firmly. "There was never anyone else."

Pemberton, who had been dozing in his chair, stirred at their whispered conversation. "How touching," he said mockingly. "Star-crossed lovers reunited. It would be romantic if it weren't so pointless."

They fell silent, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of eavesdropping on their private moments.

Night deepened, and still they waited. Pemberton's men took turns standing guard while others slept, but Archie and Phoebe remained watchful, waiting for any opportunity to escape or signal for help.

It was during the darkest hours before dawn that they heard it—a commotion somewhere in the house. Shouts, running footsteps, the sound of doors slamming. Pemberton and his men immediately went on alert, weapons drawn.

"What's happening?" one of them hissed.

"Check the corridor," Pemberton ordered, but when his man tried the door, it remained locked from the outside.

"Someone's locked us in," the man reported, his voice tight with alarm.

For the first time since their capture began, Pemberton looked genuinely concerned. "Impossible. My people control this house. "

But the sounds of conflict continued—voices calling orders, heavy footsteps moving purposefully through the corridors, and what might have been the front door opening and closing repeatedly.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the commotion ceased. An eerie silence settled over the house, broken only by the distant chiming of a clock somewhere in the building.

"I don't like this," one of Pemberton's men muttered.

"Quiet," Pemberton snapped, but Archie could see the uncertainty in his eyes.

They waited through the remainder of the night in tense silence, but no other sounds disturbed the house. When morning light began filtering through the study windows, they had heard nothing for hours.

"Someone will come," Pemberton said, though he sounded less confident than before. "My men know where I am."

But the morning passed without rescue or contact. No servants appeared with breakfast trays, no messages arrived, no sounds of normal household activity echoed through the corridors.

It was nearly noon when they finally heard footsteps approaching the study door. Pemberton visibly relaxed, and his men readied their weapons.

"About time," Pemberton muttered as the key turned in the lock.

The door opened to reveal not Pemberton's expected rescue, but a familiar figure that made Archie's blood boil with recognition.

"Tanner," he said grimly as his treacherous cousin entered the study.

"Hello, Archie," Tanner replied with a smile that held no warmth. "Still playing the knight errant, I see."

"Still playing the traitor," Archie shot back.

"Enough," Pemberton interrupted. "Where are my men? What's happened to the house?"

Tanner's smile widened unpleasantly. "Your men proved... unreliable. As for the house, well, let's just say it's under new management."

"What do you mean?" Phoebe demanded.

"I mean, my dear Lady Smalling, that Lord Pemberton's bumbling approach was becoming tiresome. Too much talking, not enough action." Tanner moved to lean against Robert's desk, his posture casual but his eyes cold. "I've taken a more direct approach."

"Direct how?" Archie asked, though he dreaded the answer .

"Your loyal servants have been... neutralized. The house is now secured by people who answer to me. And you, cousin dear, are going to help me solve Robert's little puzzle, or your precious Phoebe will discover just how creative I can be when properly motivated."

The threat was clear, and Archie felt ice form in his stomach. This was no longer a political standoff—this was personal.

"You always were a coward, Tanner," he said quietly.

"True. But I'm a coward who's about to become very wealthy and very powerful." Tanner lifted his chin. "The little contraption you must have by now represents the key to destroying Robert's evidence and eliminating everyone who might threaten our operation. I suggest you cooperate."

"And if we refuse?" Phoebe asked, her voice steady despite the obvious danger.

Tanner's smile turned predatory. "Then you'll join your loyal servants in whatever fate befell them. Though I promise you, my dear, your end will be considerably less pleasant than theirs."

The threat hung in the air like poison, and Archie found himself calculating distances, angles, possibilities for getting Phoebe to safety. But they were outnumbered, outgunned, and trapped in a room with no other exits.

Then, cutting through the tension like a blade, came the sound of multiple sets of footsteps in the corridor outside. Heavy, purposeful steps moving with military precision.

Tanner frowned, glancing toward the door. "That's not?—"

The study door burst open with explosive force, sending Tanner staggering backward as armed figures poured into the room. But these weren't Tanner's people or Pemberton's men.

Lady Joanna, Dowager Marchioness, entered the room with the bearing of a general taking command of a battlefield.

Behind her came several faces Archie recognized—members of Parliament from Robert's trusted list, government officials whose loyalty had been verified, and bringing up the rear with a satisfied smile, Thomas from Lavender Cottage.

"Lord Pemberton," Lady Joanna said pleasantly, as if greeting him at a tea party rather than interrupting an armed confrontation. "How interesting to find you here. I don't believe you were invited."

"Lady Joanna," Pemberton replied through gritted teeth, his weapon now trained on the new arrivals. "This is a government matter. You have no authority here."

"On the contrary," said one of the government officials, stepping forward with a document in his hand. "I am Sir Charles Whitmore, and I have a warrant for your arrest on charges of high treason. As do my colleagues here for Lords Ashford and Kellerman."

Tanner’s face drained of color, his confident swagger evaporating as he realized the magnitude of the force arrayed against them.

"You see," Lady Joanna continued conversationally, "when dear Archie's messages reached us yesterday morning, we took the liberty of alerting Robert's real contacts in the government. Amazing how quickly traitors can be identified when one knows where to look."

"The servants—" Tanner began.

"Are perfectly safe," Thomas interrupted with satisfaction. "Though you and your men are going to have some unpleasant conversations with His Majesty's investigators."

"This isn't over," Pemberton snarled as Sir Charles's men moved to arrest him. "There are others, many others. You cannot stop what has already begun."

"Perhaps not," Archie replied, carefully securing the assembled cipher device. "But we can certainly ensure that Robert's evidence reaches the right people. All of it."

As the traitors were led away and the immediate danger passed, Archie felt a profound sense of relief wash over him. They had not only survived the confrontation but emerged with Robert's complete intelligence archive intact.

"How?" he asked Lady Joanna as the room began to clear.

"The Widows have been busy," she replied with a slight smile. "Did you think we were only capable of playing decoy? It took a little coordinating with Robert’s loyal friends, but here we are."

Phoebe stepped forward, hugging her and delivering a sound kiss on the cheek. “You are an angel.”

She grinned. “Oh tosh.”

But the relieved laugh between them eased much of the remaining tension in the room.

As the excitement died down and they found themselves alone in Robert's study, Phoebe turned to Archie with tears in her eyes.

"It's over," she said softly. "Really over."