Daniel, who'd arrived cheerful and bright-eyed on the morning after his wedding, finished the letter and then dropped it back to James' desk. The brightness in his eyes dimmed and his brow furrowed. "John Hawkesworth," he said with a shake of his head. "I had no idea he was in France."
“For some time,” James told him.
Daniel snorted. “He has no idea that it means anything, him seeing Chopwell.”
"Indeed," James agreed.
"When did this arrive?"
"Yesterday afternoon."
"Yesterday—" Daniel leaned forward in his chair. "Good God, James. It was my wedding day, not my funeral. You should have told me."
"I'm telling you now. I’m telling you both now."
A silence settled upon the room.
“It’s the first sighting anyone’s had of him.” Daniel finally broke the silence.
"I need passage," Darling decided and stopped his march across the rug. “I’ll make my way to Valenciennes, and?—”
"Hawkesworth wrote this a fortnight ago," James said, keeping his voice level. "Chopwell could be anywhere now. And if you go to France and he hears you've arrived?—"
"He’ll run again," Daniel said.
"And then we’ll lose him again,” James agreed.
The muscled ticked once more in Darling’s jaw. "Then what do you suggest?"
"There’s a fellow. Burroughs," James said. "Spent the war with the Foreign Office. He works privately now and is quite good at finding people in France, even those who don’t wish to be found.”
“Burroughs?” Darling echoed.
James nodded. “I met him at Whitehall some time ago. He’s discreet." He paused. "I can have a letter to him today. He can confirm whether or not Chopwell is still in Valenciennes before we do anything further. Quietly. Without alerting anyone who might alert him."
"How long?"
"A fortnight. Perhaps three weeks."
Darling looked at the letter and scoffed. “That’s a bloody lifetime, Linthorpe.”
“Losing him would be worse,” Daniel said.
Darling raked a hand through his hair once more. “A fortnight," he said. "Not a moment longer." Then he left the room without another word and closed the door behind him.
The study settled into a different silence without Darling in it.
Daniel didn’t leave. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and let his gaze settle on James in the same way he’d done since that awful morning in London when he’d suffered that damned episode. “You didn't sleep," he said.
James shrugged. "The letter was on my mind."
“That's all it is?"
That wasn’t even the half of it. James would have shifted in his seat, but Daniel would notice that. So, he stayed perfectly still instead. “Of course.”
“Mmm.” Daniel clearly didn’t believe him. “And how are you feeling?”
“I’m all right.”
