"What?!" Benjamin scrambled to rise so quickly his chair fell over. He threw his napkin on the table and sprinted out of the room, pushing Lord Alvanley aside as he'd done so.

Mr. Brummell went to follow, but the waiter delayed him by handing him the bill for their meal. Lord Alvanley wasn't sure what to do, and so stayed put until Mr. Brummell could join him. He didn't wish to face Mr. Allister alone.

A crowd had gathered in the Coffee Room, he could hear the raucous blaggards already placing bets. So packed was the place that Benjamin was having difficulty squeezing through. Finally, he emerged to see a nightmare before him, his wife in a bare-knuckled fight!

Some enormous fellow was taking swings at Clara. It surprised him to see her get a few good body blows in as Clara dodged obvious knock-out punches, but he could already see blood on her opponent's face and her hands.

The crowd was intent on pushing him back as they did not want him to break up the fight before it reached an outcome. Benjamin knew he had to get to her. The man looked familiar, but at the moment Benjamin's mind was too frantic to figure out from where.

"Let me through!" he bellowed, and upon hearing his voice, Clara made a critical error. She turned to look for him.

It sickened Benjamin when he'd seen the large man connect with Clara's face, cutting her just above the eye. She staggered back, dazed, blood running down her cheek. The man sneered, ready to land a finishing blow, but by this time Benjamin had freed himself from the entanglements of the crowd. He pulled Clara back just in time to allow the man's fist to catch nothing but air.

Benjamin took a swing and the entire room cringed at the sickening crunch that his connection made when he struck the man in the nose. The man wiped the blood away with his sleeve and got back to a fighting stance, not willing to back down.

Suddenly there was a primal scream and Benjamin turned to watch Clara charge like a rampaging bull, head first right into the man's stomach causing him to double over, right before her momentum knocked them both to the ground.

Benjamin grabbed her arm before she struck the man again, in his prone position, and dragged her away, causing the entire room to groan in disappointment.

"What is the meaning of this?" The chairman of the club demanded to know.

Benjamin took out his handkerchief and dabbed as the blood seeping from Clara's brow.

"He's a thief!" Clara said, pointing at the man who was still winded and lying on the floor.

"What?" the chairman looked down at the man on the floor and back at Clara.

"Neither of you men are members of this club. State your reasons for being here at once!"

"I'm a courier. I just came to deliver a message is all," the man on the floor said rising to a seated position on the floor.

"He lies!" Clara declared, "I watched him most carefully. He is a pickpocket. You'll find no correspondence on him but if you search, I dare say you'll find several of your member's belongings among his person."

"The whelp is the liar! I only came to deliver a message to Mr. Banks, see?" the man on the floor's eyes widened in shock as whatever he expected to reveal as evidence from his pocket was not there. Frantically he searched his jacket and his eyes widened further still when he discovered something else.

"Search him!" the chairman directed, and before the large man got away, several members had him pinned while another searched him. They found a gold pocket watch, a bejeweled fountain pen, and a silver cigarette case. Those gentlemen that the items belonged to stepped forward to reclaim them.

"We demand charges be pressed against this man," they told the chairman, and he instructed for someone to call for night Watchmen.

"I didn't do it, I tell ya! He set me up!"

A second before Clara spoke, Benjamin felt something slip into his pocket.

"I have nothing to hide chairman. I am only here out of the kindness of my cousin, and would gladly turn out my pockets if need be," Clara offered.

"No that won't be necessary," Benjamin said putting a protective hand on Clara's shoulder. Taking a protective stance behind her. Mr. Claremont, my cousin. Any man eager to disparage my cousin's reputation, speak now so that we may settle things once and for all."

"Mr. McAllister! I did not know that you returned," the chairman said, his voice wavering just a tad. "Of course, no one here has an issue with your cousin."

"Then we will take our leave of you. We've had enough excitement for one evening, I should think."

"Yes. Yes, of course, and thank you, young man. You are welcome here whenever your cousin visits."

Clara nodded, and Benjamin led her out into the hall. Lord Alvanley and Mr. Brummell joined them.

"Claremont! Your face?!" Lord Alvanley expressed, cringing as the cut had already swollen.

Beau looked furious. "I thought I asked you to look out for the boy?!"

"I gave him the tour as you asked, and I left him in the Coffee Room while I played Hazard in the Card Room. I was having a run of luck before I heard the commotion," Lord Alvanley complained.

"I must postpone my visit with you. Claremont and I must return home so I can tend to his wounds," Benjamin said, ignoring Lord Alvanley entirely and directing himself to Brummell.

"May I call on you both tomorrow, to see how the lad is fairing?" Brummell asked, feeling dreadful that Claremont was harmed.

"I may need to return him home tomorrow. I will send word when I am free," Benjamin replied, and Brummell nodded.

Benjamin led Clara down the stairs and out the door of White's. Not saying a word to her until they were safely back in their flat. Benjamin whirled on Clara, grabbing her by the shoulder.

"Have you gone mental? What were you thinking starting a fight in the middle of White's?! I told you to keep a low profile while you were there. Blend in, try to go unnoticed. Did you not listen to a word I said?!"

"Eye first, then you can yell at me to your heart's content," Clara said calmly and Benjamin could not disagree that Clara had her priorities straight. Although his heart was still pounding from the situation Clara put herself in.

Benjamin gathered the supplies he needed. Having been in many a scrape himself, he had everything he required. It took him but a moment to return to her. He came back to see Clara frowning at herself in the looking glass that was framed and hanging above the hall table.

Clara pressed gingerly at the wound and winced. Benjamin immediately relented and took a softer approach. It was after all his fault she has that cut above her eye.

"Come," he instructed, and Clara followed him into his den. He got a fire going and lit an oil lamp on his desk that he moved to the mantel so that he could get a better look at her face.

Clara stood before him as he began administering to her.

"Where did you learn to fight like that? I know I didn't teach you."

"Redgrave's ship. I would learn whatever the sailors wanted to teach me. They took it easy on me, most times because in their description I was such a lightweight they feared breaking in two, but I got better as time went on and I continued to spar with whoever would let me."

"Why did you fight?" Benjamin said and winced as he watched Clara hiss and pull back from the sting of the alcohol he used to clean the cut.

"He was no courier," Clara said.

"Okay, so he was a thief. You could have told Lord Alvanley, the chairman, or any of the gentlemen whose items you saw him steal and they would have dealt with him. Why did you take matters into your own hands, Clara? Do you have any idea the danger you put yourself in?"

"He's not a thief?"

Benjamin's hand stilled from cleaning the blood from her cheek. "What do you mean he's not a thief? You accused him and we'd found the items on his person."

"I planted those there."

"YOU WHAT!"

Clara walked away from Benjamin, rubbing her temples. "Could you please lower your voice to a more pleasing level, my brain already hurts from the pounding I received?"

Benjamin's eyes widened, his jaw clenched. He flexed his fingers like he wished to throttle Clara himself at this moment he found her so infuriating, but he took a few deep breaths and poured them both a brandy. When he felt collected enough to speak again, he approached her, handing her a glass. Clara thanked him and took a sip.

"In order for you to have planted those items on him, Clara," Benjamin said very slowly and deliberately to control the volume of his voice, "means you would have had to of stolen them. Another skill you picked up from Redgrave's crew?"

"No, McCullen's. And yes, Benjamin, I am aware it was a risky move but I very well couldn't have started a brawl to create a distraction and not have an adequate cause, now could I?"

"Adequate cause? Distraction? Why would you need to...?"

"If you would just sit a moment and be still, I can explain everything," Clara offered.

Benjamin stopped pacing and took a seat across from Clara. He took a large swig of his brandy before saying, "I'm listening."

"Lord Alvanley left me alone in the Coffee Room after making introductions. I was of little importance, so no one paid me much mind as I took a turn about the room."

"You men gossip more than the matrons at a coming-out ball. Do you know that?" Clara pointed out as she took another large sip of brandy, happy to discover it had a numbing effect on her pain.

"Yes, yes, given. When did you decide to rip off the gentry?"

"I'm getting to that," Clara said with a tinge of annoyance at being rushed.

"I'd seen Banks. He was surrounded by a group of men, none of whom I was introduced to so I couldn't make myself known nor did I believe it in my best interest to reveal myself to Banks as the man had claimed to be in love with me once upon a time."

"I assume you still got close enough to overhear the conversation?"

"Of course. They were discussing Bonaparte, their disappointment in the Regent Prince pushing his Whig connections away, and basically, they condoned the idea of revolution. They were debating on what would happen should the Emperor fall and Banks mentioned a list he was gathering of sympathizers here in England."

"A list?"

"Yes, a list he expected to be delivered to him that very night."

"The courier?"

"Yes, bowler hat man."

"Bowler hat man?"

"The man from the group you asked me about on the way to the club. Did you not recognize him? Seriously, Benjamin, I thought you better at this," Clara admonished.

Upon her words, Benjamin immediately placed the description to the face of the man whose nose he broke.

"You don't believe, Banks foolish enough to have such a list delivered to him at White's, do you?"

"Yes?" Clara admitted, but with hesitation.

"Only an idiot would be that foolish. Oh, Clara!" Benjamin said standing up and pacing again.

"You have it there," Clara pointed at him, "in your pocket."

Benjamin came to an abrupt halt, stuck his hand in his pocket, and discovered the letter Clara had slipped into it. Evidently, she relieved the bowler hat man from it when she tackled him, giving her enough time to swap the letter for the items she stole.

Benjamin, Clara noted, cleverly opened the letter without breaking the seal. He must, she imagined, in case he needed it to be sealed again.

He read the contents and ran his hand over his tired features. "Clara, this is an inventory list for Banks' business from his accountant."

Clara shot up from the chair so quickly that it caused her head to spin. She gripped the chair's arm to steady herself. "No! That cannot be!" Clara snatched the letter from Benjamin and sure enough, it was what he said.

Now it was Clara's turn to pace. "He said it was a list, a list he was to receive that evening. You said, he'd have to be an idiot to receive the letter at White's but what if the letter just looked like a letter?"

"It is just a letter. You have it there in your hand. I have no doubt what you heard was true. I've often suspected Banks of being a sympathizer, but Clara...?"

"No wait," Clara said, holding a hand up to stop his words. "What if the list isn't a list? What if the list is a cipher, a coded message?"

Benjamin paused. "It's possible, but the odds of decoding it are slim. I could perhaps take it to a code breaker. However, that could take days, weeks, months even, before they know whether they can break the code, or if it is a code at all."

Clara sighed, staring at the letters, willing them to turn over their secrets. She was good at ciphers. She had created her own when writing notes on people and places she didn't want the servants or her aunt reading, knowing they snooped about her room. Still, it seemed like such an ordinary list.

Then another thought occurred to her before Benjamin wondered what was going through her mind. Clara disappeared only to return with an armful of bottles filled with various liquids. With a swipe of her other arm, she cleared and desk to set them down.

"Clara?!" It will take him hours to sort through the paperwork she had sent sailing. "What are you doing?"

"It occurred to me. You said Banks wouldn't dare have a list delivered to him at White's and it is possible," she said, pulling out a quill and a clean sheet of paper, "that this is just an ordinary list," she started scribbling furiously, "Or maybe," she added as she finished writing, "he just wants us to think it's ordinary."

"Yes, we've been through this. It is possibly a cipher, but Clara I already told you it will take some time to know if that's true, meanwhile I should notify the network to monitor Banks as he may very well be an informant for the other side."

Satisfied with whatever she wrote, she set the paper aside and grabbed a pair of needlepoint scissors, and cut a piece of the letter.

Benjamin watched, shocked she would do such a thing. She must have been hit harder than he realized and then watched in horror as she held the paper over the flame of the lamp. He rushed over to rescue it from her.

"Are you planning on burning the only potential evidence we have that any of what you learned tonight is true?"

Clara snatched it back and took it over the firelight so she could get a better look. She frowned and threw the piece in the fire.

"Clara!" Well, it was too late now, that part of the letter was gone.

"Too easy and it would have left a sheen," Clara said, pushing past him.

"What would have?" Benjamin asked as she watched her examine what was left of the letter.

Benjamin saw her soak a piece of cotton in what smelled and looked like lemon juice and begin dabbing at another piece of the letter, causing the ink to smear. She's gone mad.

"Damn it!" Clara said in frustration. She held up two jars that had two different clear liquids, or at least he believed they were different as Clara pondered out loud. "Which one? Which one?" Clara shrugged and to Benjamin's horror tore the letter in two. Shoving each half in one of the containers and swishing it around until the ink dissolved and the paper was saturated.

Benjamin fell into the chair across from her. What has she done?

"Camouflage!" Clara proclaimed, pulling the papers out. "Brilliant!" Clara put them side by side on the desk and giggled with glee. "Benjamin, look?"

Benjamin stared astounded the actual list, or well half of it revealed itself to him.

"How did you...?"

"The cipher wasn't the words. It was the ink!"

Benjamin looked up at Clara and smiled, grateful she hadn't lost her mind after all. "Sympathetic ink," Benjamin said in wonder, "And where pray tell did you gain this knowledge?"

Clara shrugged. "Lord Fitton. He taught me all about ciphering ink or sympathetic ink, as you called it. How they are made from simple plants or things like whole milk and how to make the invisible words reappear, heat, acid or a chemical reaction."

"Whoever wrote this was extremely clever. For they used a carbon-based ink on top of the gall ink, to camouflage it. To the naked eye, it would be impossible to decipher that this was not just a simple inventory list."

"But why has only half the list shown?

"That is a matter of science. Gallontannic acid or oak gall ink is comprised of two parts- gall extract and copperas. I wasn't sure which was used to write with and which would be the reactive agent to make the other reappear as they are interchangeable."

"Is there a way to make the other half appear?"

Clara bit her bottom lip. "I'm uncertain. I'd imagine not since I've just effectively splashed the page with the ink the words were written in, which I imagine would erase them."

"But we still have this half," Benjamin said picking up the page some letters were missing, but he knew the names well enough to fill in the blanks, many he suspected, well actually all except one.

The list read, Holland, Hazlitt, Hobhouse, and... Bryon.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Clara asked, she would have thought the news would elate Benjamin.

"You've done incredibly well, Clara. However, I just realized, tomorrow I must present you to the Queen and how are you to present Lord Fitton's findings, looking as you do?"

Clara's hand flew up to her brow, she could feel it was swollen, no doubt the under-eye would be purpling by now. Pulling her hand away, she saw the cuts and bruises on her knuckles. She flopped into Benjamin's desk chair the joy of her discovery evaporated.

"Out of curiosity what was your backup plan if it was not what you thought it was?"

Clara pushed the copy of the letter she had made toward Benjamin. "I wrote it down, just in case I was wrong, but I felt certain I was right."

"How am I to deal with this?" Clara asked, pointing to her eye. "Oh Benjamin, I can't stand the thought of letting you or Lord Fitton down."

"Let me down?" Benjamin was flabbergasted. "You've found out more in one night than an entire network of spies have uncovered in a year. Let me handle this," Benjamin said, pocketing the note. "We will think up a plausible excuse for that eye. You will accompany me to see the Queen."

Clara nodded, suddenly exhausted now that the excitement has ebbed. She got up and walked towards the door. Clara stopped and looked back. She saw Benjamin sitting there, looking pensive.

"Are you coming?"

"I need to clean up here and snuff out the fire," he told her.

"Do you wish me to wait for you?" Clara offered.

"No need. Get your rest, Dove. I'll be there momentarily."

Benjamin kissed her on the cheek and watched Clara head up the stairs to bed. Wandering back into this den, he picked up the scattered paper and stacked them on his desk to be sorted later. Then he capped all the jars and made a neat pile of them on the desk as well before attending to the fire.

Benjamin pulled out the paper with the names from his pocket. It really was incredible that Clara uncovered such a coup. Benjamin sighed and threw the list into the fire, watching it burn to ash before dousing the flames.