The Silk Code

About the AuthorDEBORAH SWIFT is a USA TODAY bestselling author of historical fiction, a genre she loves. As a child she enjoyed reading the Victorian classics such as Jane Eyre, Little Women, Lorna Doone and Wuthering Heights. She has been reading historical novels ever since; though she’s a bookaholic and reads widely – contemporary and classic fiction.In the past, Deborah used to work as a set and costume designer for theatre and TV, so enjoys the research aspect of creating historical fiction, something she was familiar with as a scenographer. More details of her research and writing process can be found on her website www.deborahswift.comDeborah likes to write about extraordinary characters set against the background of real historical events. The Silk CodeDEBORAH SWIFT HQAn imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd1 London Bridge StreetLondon SE1 9GFwww.harpercollins.co.ukHarperCollinsPublishers Macken House, 39/40 Mayor Street Upper, Dublin 1 D01 C9W8IrelandFirst published in Great Britain by HQ in 2023Copyright © Deborah Swift 2023Deborah Swift asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.E-book Edition © May 2023 ISBN: 9780008584719Version: 2023-05-11 Table of ContentsCoverAbout the AuthorTitle PageCopyrightDedicationNote to ReadersPart OneChapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Part TwoChapter 18Chapter 19Chapter 20Chapter 21Chapter 22Chapter 23Chapter 24Chapter 25Chapter 26Chapter 27Chapter 28Chapter 29Part ThreeChapter 30Chapter 31Chapter 32Chapter 33Chapter 34Chapter 35Chapter 36Chapter 37Chapter 38Chapter 39Chapter 40Chapter 41Chapter 42Chapter 43A Letter from Deborah SwiftHistorical NotesAcknowledgementsDear Reader …About the Publisher For John, the eggman Note to ReadersThis ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:Change of font size and line heightChange of background and font coloursChange of fontChange justificationText to speech PART ONE Chapter 1ScotlandFebruary 1943Nancy blew her nose. Tears would be no use for what lay ahead. They’d no telephone at the manse, and the public one was miles away, so she’d have to walk over to Stranraven House to have it out with Andrew. Now Kitty had told her the truth, she’d have to confront him in person, while she was still angry enough to want to see him squirm. She guessed he’d try to talk her round, and the thought of this unsavoury conversation filled her with dread.The weather was still foul, so she pulled her knitted beret further down over her wavy hair and buttoned up her mackintosh as she trudged across the fields. Stranraven House was a large granite building sunk in the valley, beneath the scree and the pines. Before today, its stark turreted outline had always given her a kind of romantic pleasure, but now she was furious that she would never dance a ceilidh in its great hall, or dine in its wood-panelled dining-room. And Andrew’s parents would be so hurt. She’d come to think of them as relations, and she liked them both, his slightly scatty mother and his old-school father.Andrew’s new motorcar, a Humber – his pride and joy – was parked outside on the drive. He was definitely in. She wondered bitterly if Audrey had been treated to his little tour of the nearby lochs and glens in his new toy, just as she had. Whether they had kissed in ‘their’ favourite picnic spot next to Loch Earn. The thought re-fuelled her anger, as she marched across the field in her wellington boots, not caring as she squelched through the mud, her hair whipping across her face as it escaped her hat. Up past the staring herd of Highland cows, feet scrunching up the gravel to the front door. She tugged hard on the bell pull, hearing it clang inside the door.Mrs Havers, the housekeeper, opened it. The familiarity of the hall, with its ticking grandfather clock, almost derailed her resolve.‘Ah, Nancy, how are you, my dear?’ Mrs Havers smiled benignly at her as if she were still five years old. She’d have no idea why she was there. Nor, for that matter, would Andrew.Nancy steeled herself. ‘Is Andrew in?’‘Down in the drawing room, dear, with the paper. He’s finished his rounds with Dr Barker now.’ Andrew was a junior doctor, and exempt from army service.Nancy headed down the corridor, her cheeks hot and heart thumping. Of course, Hamish and Hector, the two gundogs, leapt up to greet her exactly as usual and she had to fuss them. After all, none of this was their fault.‘Hello, Nance,’ Andrew said, standing up with a smile and approaching her with arms out for his usual kiss.She backed away. ‘Keep your hands off me.’ Her voice was tight and small.He frowned. He was wearing that brown cardigan she hated too. ‘What’s the matter?’‘Don’t pretend you don’t know. Audrey Hamilton is what’s the matter.’His face took on a stiff expression. ‘What’s she got to do with anything?’‘Kitty McIntyre told me you’ve been seeing her.’‘No, that’s rubbish. We chat sometimes, like friends do.’‘Don’t lie to me, Andrew. I’ve just been with Kitty on the bus, and I know she’s right. She saw you and Audrey kissing on Stirling high street. And besides, I’ve been friends with Audrey since school and the last few weeks she’s been distinctly “off” with me. How could you?’‘I haven’t done anything,’ he said bullishly. ‘You’d believe Kitty over me?’‘Audrey’s my best friend.