The Green Hat

This is set at a time before Sexby has met Angelica.
Warnings for adult content

My thanks to my beta jinxed100 for her sterling work and for the title. 
Further thanks to rozerood for her background information and for naming the heroine.

It was typical of Prince Rupert, Edward Sexby thought, to tell him that his contact would be wearing a green hat with a feather in it.  No further details, just the hat and the instructions to meet this person in the corner of the square near the church just before one o’clock.

He had heard the clock chime one and hadn’t seen anyone resembling the man he was supposed to meet – he had seen green hats without feathers and non-green hats with feathers, but no-one whose hat fitted the full description.  He jumped when he felt a hand on his arm and then stared because although the person who had accosted him was definitely wearing a green hat with a feather, the contact was also very definitely female.

“You are Edward Sexby?” the lady in the green hat asked.  Sexby managed a confused nod.

“You were told to meet me?”  A second nod.

“The inestimable Rupert didn’t tell me he had employed a mute.  It makes sense though – a mute can’t betray a secret.”  There was definitely laughter in her voice.

“Madam,” Sexby had finally found his tongue, “you are not quite who I was expecting.”

“You were expecting a blonde?”  Sexby felt himself starting to blush.  “But come, we do not have the time to discuss your preferred colour of hair.”

With that the lady turned and headed off into one of the alleyways that led from the square.  Sexby followed, trying hard to remember the route.  Experience had taught him that knowing the way back would prove essential if he had to make a quick escape.  He became convinced that they were not taking a direct route and was not surprised when his guide stopped.

“We are being followed,” she said.

“Aye madam.  There are two men.  I thought they were with you.”

“No, only one of them is.  I do not recognise the other.  From here you must go down those steps, turn left at the apothecaries and take the third door on the right.  Go up the stairs and wait for me in the room at the top.  I will lose our follower and come to you as soon as I can.”

Sexby went down the steps and noted that his contact had once more disappeared into the maze of small alleys, the two followers going after her.  He had no difficulty finding the house he needed and went up the stairs.  To his surprise the room he entered was a richly adorned bedchamber.  He was becoming even more suspicious of the task Prince Rupert had given him.

Usually he would be sent with messages, normally asking for money, together with vague promises of repayment that the prince had no intention of keeping and the recipient has no expectation of being fulfilled.  Consequently the missions to date had nearly all been failures.

This time, however, appeared to be different.  The letter was thicker than usual.  It bore the prince’s seal so Sexby was unable to look at the contents.  Although not a good reader he was usually able to make out the basic message.  He was not left alone with his thoughts for long.  His mysterious contact stepped carefully into the room.

“Well Master Sexby, my name is Countess Aafke Janszoon and I believe you have a letter for me?”

Sexby produced the letter, which she placed carefully into her bag, barely glancing at the inscription.

“In a few hours time I shall have something for you to take back to the prince.”

“Yes, madam.” Sexby sat down to wait.  He closed his eyes, planning to doze until the reply was ready.

After a few minutes the countess spoke again “I think we can find something to do while we wait.”

“Yes, Madam?”  Sexby opened his eyes to discover her standing before him, wearing nothing but her chemise.

“Have you any better suggestions, Master Sexby? Oh, do not worry,” she added, “I have left Marius guarding the front door, so we shall not be disturbed.” 

When Sexby failed to respond she stepped towards him, grabbed hold of his coat and pulling him to his feet, began to remove it.  He did not resist and when she had done so he undid his shirt buttons and pulled his shirt off over his head. 

“Follow me,” the countess purred and led the way to the bed.  Sexby did as instructed and stood at the end of the bed admiring her body.  She was lying back, with her chemise pulled up so that he could follow the line of her thighs.

“I think you know what to do next,” she murmured.

“Yes, madam.”   He took off his boots and trousers and joined her on the bed.  The countess ran her hands over his chest.  Sexby winced slightly as her fingers touched the scar that ran diagonally above his right breast.  In his turn he put his hands on her shoulders and moved them down her back.  She moaned and pressed her body against his.  He pulled her chemise higher and rolled over on top of her.  She spread her legs invitingly and he penetrated her with ease, responding to her encouragement by climaxing rapidly.

Once satisfied he rolled over and lay beside her.  She stroked his face and hair and he smiled up lazily.

“Sexby,” she began.

“Yes, madam.”

“How long since you left London?”

“Six days madam.”

“And when you sailed, were there many ships in the port?”

“I could not tell, madam.  It was a dark night.”

“But you must have noticed if there were many men around?”

“It was raining, madam.  If there were men around they were taking shelter.”

The countess was beginning to get angry and would have demanded some answers had there not come the sound of someone banging loudly on the door.  They both leapt up and hastily threw on their clothes.  The countess took a second letter from her bag and gave it to Sexby just as Marius burst into the room.

“Quick, madam, Mazarin’s men are at the end of the street.  We must leave before they find you here.”

“I am ready.  Master Sexby, we shall meet again.”  With that Marius and the countess left. 

Sexby followed them down the stairs and watched them depart.  He waited until he could no longer see the green hat and then slipped out of the doorway.  Keeping to the shadows he retraced his footsteps reaching the square without incident.   From there he would make his way back to England with the message for the prince.

Who is the Countess Aafke Janszoon?  Is she right to expect to meet Sexby again?

Nine Drabbles

Drabbles written for the weekly drabble challenge at Lifein1973

The Mistake

Sam curled up into a ball on his bed and fought the sheet that was trying to engulf him.  His head ached, his stomach ached, and his shoulders ached.  He gave up thinking about how much of him ached and wiggled his toes in the hope that they didn’t ache.  But they did.  He peered cautiously at the television expecting to see the blurry face of a doctor saying that there was a problem with his medication.  Nothing.  He groaned pathetically.  It had been a very bad mistake to bet Chris that he could beat him at Ray’s drinking game.

---000---

The Local News

It was a quiet afternoon so Chris was passing his time by reading the local paper.

All of a sudden he looked up, “This paper’s useless - it’s always getting things wrong.  You know that Rogers said he couldn’t have been at that blag last Wednesday ‘cos he was at his old man’s funeral.  They’ve put in the paper the funeral was on Tuesday.”

Gene swore, “Or maybe the funeral was in fact on Tuesday, leaving Mr Rogers conveniently free to do a blag on Wednesday.  You know Chris, you reading that paper may just have proved very useful after all.”

---000---

Rain

Phyllis didn’t like the rain.

It increased the number of umbrellas in Lost and Found.

It added to the number of old folk who came to report they’d lost an umbrella.

It worsened the Guv’s temper when he fell over the extra umbrellas she’d put in Lost and Found.

It meant the floors were muddy where everyone had tramped in and out.

It led to a large puddle where DCI Hunt had dripped in revenge for falling over the umbrellas.

But it brought out her unexpected motherly side when DI Tyler came into the station looking like a drowned rat.

---000---

The Secret

“Where’s Phyllis?” Gene demanded.

 

“Dunno, Guv,” but Chris looked furtive.

 

“No idea,” Ray was equally evasive.

 

Gene stomped back to the front desk, but there was still no sign of the desk sergeant, just a couple of plonks with silly smiles on their faces and a box that he thought moved slightly.

 

Gene went back to his office and didn’t emerge until just before beer o’clock.  He went for one last look for the errant sergeant only to discover her handing out six small kittens to their proud new owners with Ray and Chris at the head of the line.

---000---

Icon challenge

They were standing in the art gallery looking at a portrait of a Civil War soldier with a scar on his face.

 

To Gene he was a man who stood up for his beliefs and protected those he cared for. 

 

To Annie he was a lover who would be devoted to one woman, from the moment he first saw her.

 

To Sam he was someone who had started out unfeeling and uncaring but had slowly been brought into another life.  A life of joy and hope that had come about because of one with whom he had fallen in love.

---000---

The Team

The smell of aftershave wafted down the corridor.  Gene sniffed and disappeared into his office, shutting the door firmly against all comers.  Ray remembered a witness who needed to be interviewed urgently, despite having put it off for the past three days.  He took pity on Chris and took him with him as backup, because one could never be sure how aggressive an eighty year old lady was going to be.  So it was left to Sam to confront an extremely angry DCI Litton when he stormed into the office demanding to know why CID had freed his prime suspect.

---000---

Umbrellas

It was another wet day and Annie was looking at the umbrellas, mentally assigning them to their owners. A black one for the Guv, the check one would be for Chris, borrowed from his mum, the other sensible black one for Sam and the blue gingham, Ray?

She watched as Ray collected one of the black umbrellas, then Chris came and looking guilty, took the other, “It’s my Dad’s, he doesn’t know”.

Sam blushed slightly as he picked up the check one, “Phyllis said I could use it.”

So that just left the blue gingham one. “Don’t ask,” said Gene.

---000---

In Trouble

Sam stood outside Rathbone’s office feeling very embarrassed and shuffling from one foot to the other.

“Come in!” Sam entered.

Rathbone stood up and began to lecture him, “I do not expect this sort of behaviour from my senior officers. I would have thought that you, of all people, should be setting a better example.”

He droned on and on and Sam started to laugh.

“What’s so funny, Inspector?”

“Nothing, Sir.” He didn’t think he could explain that he was laughing because for the first time in his life he was being told off for playing football in the corridor.

---000---

The Solution

Sam absentmindedly stroked the cat that was rubbing round his ankles. It was yet another night when he couldn’t sleep, so he’d come out in the early morning hoping that the fresh air would clear his head. The case they were working on didn’t add up: a murdered woman who had been cheating on her husband, but the husband had a perfect alibi. Sam rubbed the cat’s neck, so much like Ivanhoe they could have been twins. He remembered two boys in his class who played jokes on the teachers, they were twins. And the husband had a twin brother!