She nodded. “And you think we should meet there, instead of here?”
“Not altogether, for I dare say you’ll be glad to walk over here now and then, for a change. But I thought we could use it in an emergency, especially for leaving messages. There’s a small wall cupboard beside the bench where we could stow notes for each other, if anything turns up on days when we can’t meet. I dare say even when you’re confined to the house, you’d manage to slip out to the hut without being noticed.”
Madeleine agreed that this seemed likely, and promised to visit the summerhouse daily in search of messages whenever she was unable to walk over to Friston House.
Lydia returned the following afternoon, tired from her journey but determined to put a brave face on her parting from John in all the uncertainties of war.
“And I’m so glad that you’re here, my love,” she said to Corinna, “for you and Laurie will make me laugh whenever I feel mopish! But where is the charming little French girl? Has she already gone to her relatives in Brighton?”
Corinna explained about this.
“Oh, dear, how distressing for her! She need not have taken a post until they are found, though — she would have been very welcome to stay here. And at Fabian Grenville’s house, too! That may be a trifle awkward.”
“No, for Madeleine insists on keeping her friendship with us a secret. She thinks it not at all proper for an abigail to be on visiting terms with Mr Grenville’s neighbours. I do see her difficulty, so we’ve arranged clandestine meetings in the shrubbery. It’s all capital fun!”
Lydia laughed. “Well, I’m sure Laurie would think so. You’re such children, the pair of you — you make me feel a positive centenarian! Where is Laurie? I thought I would send him over to the manor to fetch Richard back to dine with us, then we shall be a cosy family party.”
Sir Richard duly arrived, to be greeted warmly by Lydia but with restraint on Corinna’s side. He raised his eyebrows questioningly at her as they stood together for a few moments before entering the dining room.
“I’m not yet forgiven, I see,” he said, smiling wryly. “It’s unlike you to bear a grudge, though. Usually you’re ready to overlook our little tiffs.”
“We shouldn’t have any tiffs if it were not for your odious habit of interfering in my concerns!” she countered swiftly.
“True. Would you like me to promise not to do so again?”
There was a mocking expression on his face, but his blue eyes momentarily gave another message. She looked very lovely tonight, in a high-waisted gown of yellow muslin that brought out the gold lights in her hair.
“If I had the faintest expectation of your ever keeping to such a promise, I’d say yes, but I know you better, alas!”
“I was afraid you might. How shaming it is, to be read like an open book.”
“You underrate yourself. Far from being easy to read, you’re positively inscrutable at times.”
“Ah, but you like mysteries, do you not? I know Mrs Radcliffe is one of your favourite authors.”
“Mysteries are all very well between the covers of a novel,” Corinna answered, laughing in spite of herself, “but I am by far too curious to tolerate them in real life!”
“One day perhaps I will elucidate the mystery for you.”
She saw the intense look again in his eyes, and was forced to lower her own. When she looked up once more, it had vanished, to be replaced by his usual nonchalance. Then Lydia gave the signal for them to repair to the dining room, where conversation became general.
The talk ranged from Portsmouth and naval friends there to concerns in the immediate neighbourhood. Sir Richard told them that he had received certain instructions in his capacity as magistrate for procedure in the event of an invasion by the French.
“Invasion!” exclaimed the sisters, in horror.
Laurence’s eyes kindled. “D’ you think it may come to that, Richard?”
“Frankly, no. They must first run the gauntlet of our navy, and you may judge for yourselves how likely they are to succeed against Nelson,” he replied, with quiet confidence. “But it’s only prudent to make preparations, however unlikely the event.”
“What kind of preparations?” asked Laurence.
“Warning beacons are to be erected at strategic points and the semaphore signal system extended. Volunteer forces are being raised to fight on the beaches and in the countryside, if need be. But all this makes dismal hearing for the ladies. Let us change the subject.”
“Volunteer forces?” repeated Laurence. “Say you so? B’ God, I’ve a good mind to join them — d’ you know of one hereabouts, Richard?”
“Indeed I do. As a matter of fact, I’m off to Brighton tomorrow to see my old friend Colonel Wexham on that subject.”
“Take me with you,” Laurence urged. Then, his face clouding: “But where’s the use? Mama would never agree, I suppose.”
Sir Richard considered this. “I can’t vouch for the success of it, but we might try to persuade her by laying stress on the fact that such forces are unlikely to see any action.”
“Now you’re roasting me,” complained Laurence. “If it ain’t like you to make the whole affair sound deuced tame!”
“No such thing. They may be called upon to play their part, though personally I doubt the French will ever reach these shores. Nevertheless, you’d be receiving useful training for a military career later, should you still wish to engage in one when you come of age. By all means, accompany me tomorrow, and then we’ll discuss this further.”
The conversation turned to other topics, and presently Madeleine’s affairs were mentioned. Laurence related his unsuccessful attempts to glean some information in Eastdean concerning the whereabouts of the smugglers.
“Oh, pray don’t meddle in such matters!” begged Lydia anxiously. “I never heard talk of any smugglers hereabouts myself, but I do know how dangerous such people can be if anyone starts prying into their affairs, so I beg of you, Laurie, leave well alone!”
“You may not have heard anything of local smugglers, but Richard has, for he told me so.”
Lydia looked questioningly at Sir Richard, who nodded.
“Landowners hereabouts have always suspected that their own villages are involved in the trade, but as long as there was no violence, we chose not to inquire into it too closely. After all, smuggling has been a way of life along the Channel coast for hundreds of years, passing from father to son as if it were a legitimate trade. It’s difficult to stamp out anything like that, and the preventive men have too much territory to cover to be effective. Lydia’s in the right of it, though, Laurie — they can be ugly customers. Best not meddle.”
“That’s all very well, but how else can we hope to trace Madeleine’s relatives? We daren’t employ a lawyer—”
“True, but I see no reason against advertising privately in the local journals. An appeal to write to Mademoiselle de Fougeray care of a newspaper would surely cause no alarm.”
“What a capital notion!” exclaimed Corinna. “I wonder we didn’t think of it before.”
“I’m not so sure,” said Laurence, a trifle sulkily, for he had been enjoying his active part in the search. “Females don’t read newspapers, and I’ll wager smugglers don’t either!”
“Who says females don’t read newspapers?” demanded his sisters in chorus.
“Oh, well, I don’t count bluestockings like you two!”
“Before you embark on a lengthy and doubtless stimulating family wrangle,” put in Sir Richard, with a grin, “let me remind you that some friend of the family is sure to see this advertisement and bring it to their notice. But I suppose we ought to consult mademoiselle before taking any action. One wouldn’t wish to be high-handed.”
Corinna gave him a saucy look. “Would you not? How you are changed!”
“Thanks to your tireless efforts, my reformation has made rapid strides of late. A little more endeavour on your side will soon see the process completed.”
But Madeleine failed to put in an appearance on the following afternoon. After awaiting her in the shrubbery until after four o’clock, Corinna decided that she must leave a message for her in the hut which Laurence had found at Eastdean Place. She had some qualms about attempting this, but she reminded herself that she had boasted to Sir Richard of her intention to take an active part in the search for Madeleine’s relatives; this strengthened her resolution.
Having written a brief explanatory note to leave in their improvised post office, she set out for Eastdean Place by paths which avoided the main part of the village. Normally she would have enjoyed the walk; but as she drew nearer to her objective, she grew more and more tense.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she was safely past the entrance to the drive, and hurried on until she came to the door in the wall.
It took all her courage to enter and stand within the cover of the trees. Her heart was beating fast as she ventured out into what Laurence had aptly described as a wilderness. His directions had been plain, and she soon came upon the hut.
Bolder now, she pushed open the door. Then she started back in alarm. Someone was inside.
Evidently the occupant was equally startled, for she uttered a faint cry as she turned to face the intruder.
“Mon Dieu! Corinna, it is you — but how you scared me!”
“Not more than you scared me!” exclaimed Corinna, entering with lifted skirts, for the floor was none too clean. “I came to leave a note for you, but now I can tell you myself.”
“And I to leave one for you! I could not get away until now, and it was too late to come to Friston House. You may sit on this bench, I think, for I have done my best to clean it.”
They sat side by side while Corinna explained what was intended.
“Why, yes, I think that is an idea of the most clever! And it will not be near so costly as a lawyer, n’est-ce pas? As to that, you will allow me to defray the cost, of course.”
“Of course,” agreed Corinna glibly, knowing better than to argue over this. “But tell me how everything goes on with you, Madeleine.”
“It is well enough. The workmen have almost finished inside the house, and I have been helping madame to refurbish the rooms. She says Monsieur Grenville will soon be receiving visitors, but he and the valet Thomson are absent today. A visitor arrived for him last night, and at such an odd time — it was past midnight! My attic room overlooks the stableyard, and the sound of a horse woke me. I looked out, and the moon was bright, so I could see a man dismounting, with Monsieur Grenville there beside him. I did not wish to pry, you understand, but always it is so quiet at night, and I wondered who it might be. The visitor did not stay overnight, for no guest room is occupied this morning. Perhaps Monsieur Grenville and his valet went away with him for no one seems to know when they left — but that seems odd, too. However” — with a Gallic shrug — “it is none of my business.
“And now, my dear Corinna, I must go, for soon I shall be wanted. Since I can expect no news from the advertisement for several days, there will be no need for me to come and visit you at your house every day as we arranged, I suppose.”
Her tone was wistful, and it reminded Corinna once more how friendless Madeleine must feel herself to be at present.
“But indeed I hope you will,” she said warmly. “Come every day, if you are at liberty to do so, and should I be obliged to be absent for any reason, I will leave a note for you in the little arbour where we sit in the shrubbery. And when news does arrive, either Laurie or I will bring a message here for you, if need be. Only think, Madeleine, it cannot be long now before your quest is ended, and then we’ll have no further need of subterfuge!”
They parted in a cheerful mood; Corinna to remove herself speedily and thankfully off the premises, and Madeleine to return unobtrusively to the house.
The master of Eastdean Place had not returned home by dinnertime, so Mrs Benton took a solitary evening meal. As usual, the staff all departed for their own homes by nine o’clock, leaving their mistress and Madeleine alone in the house.
Mrs Benton went early to bed, instructing Madeleine to lock up the house securely before herself retiring for the night.
Unfamiliar with this duty, which was normally performed by Thomson, Madeleine spent some time in examining the several doors and windows to make sure that all was secure. She had reached her attic room and was about to undress, when she suddenly realised with dismay that she had overlooked the servants’ entrance through the kitchen.
By now it was past eleven; Mrs Benton, a heavy sleeper, had been in bed for an hour, so there was small likelihood of disturbing her. Nevertheless, Madeleine, candle in hand, was careful to creep silently down the three flights of stairs which led to the kitchen. She gently eased open the door, then started in alarm as she saw a dark figure moving across the room.
“Mon Dieu! Qui est là?”
Almost she dropped the candlestick in her fright.
It was seized from her as a firm hand clamped itself over her mouth.
“Screech and I’ll wring your neck,” growled the intruder, also in French. “Keep quiet — not a sound — understand?”
She nodded, trembling. He put the candlestick down on a shelf nearby to take hold of her with both arms and draw her into the kitchen.
“I mean it,” he whispered menacingly. “Do you speak English?”
She nodded again, too frightened for speech. She could not have cried out, even had she wished.
“But you’re French?” Another nod. “Who are you? Why are you here?”
He was speaking in English now, with a strong Sussex accent.
She found her own voice, low and quavering.
“I am Madame Benton’s abigail — she sent me to lock up.”
“Ah, so.” He nodded, seeming less ferocious now. “Now, see here, you — what’s your name?”
“M-Madeleine,” she stuttered.
“Well, Madeleine—”
He broke off, and raised the candle to scrutinise her for a moment in silence.
“I think I’ve seen you somewhere before,” he said slowly and suspiciously.
She stared back at him, gradually recovering a little of her confidence.
“I, too, monsieur.”
He put down the candle, grabbing her in so fierce a hold that she could barely suppress a cry of pain.
“You have not seen me,” he hissed, “not tonight, not ever! If you dare to breathe one word to anyone of having seen me, I’ll discover it, and make you pay! You’re a pretty wench, Madeleine, now, but what man will look at you when I’ve been at work on you with this, eh?”
Suddenly there was a cruel-looking knife in his hand, its point just touching her cheek. She froze in horror, afraid to move, afraid even to breathe.
Seeing the effect he had produced, he chuckled in a way that sent cold shivers down her spine. He removed the knife, stowing it away.
“I trust you understand me, mademoiselle,” he said in perfect French.
Madeleine nodded. She understood very well.
“Then go back to bed.”
She did not hesitate to obey.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
When Corinna reached home after parting from Madeleine at Eastdean Place, she found that Sir Richard and Laurence had just returned from Brighton. While they were there, they had chanced to meet the Cheveleys walking on the Steyne; and an invitation had at once been given to spend a day with the family at their home in Rottingdean, a village a few miles east of Brighton.
“They were very pressing that we should go tomorrow, if that chanced to be convenient,” said Sir Richard. “Of course, I could not venture to promise definitely for you ladies, but Laurie and I accepted. Miss Cheveley was delighted to learn that you’re staying here for a while, Corinna, and trusts that you’ll both be able to meet frequent
ly.”
“Oh, yes, I should like it of all things,” declared Lydia. “We’ve no previous engagements, as so far there’s been no time to make any, but I hope to remedy that without delay! What do you say, Corinna? You’ll be at liberty to go, will you not?”
Corinna agreed, reflecting that she could leave a note for Madeleine explaining her absence, as they had arranged.
It turned out another fine day, so they decided to make the journey by curricle, Sir Richard taking his own and Laurence borrowing John’s. There was some discussion as to which of the sisters should be driven by her brother; but Lydia settled it by declaring that Laurence and Corinna were safer parted.
“You’re such a wild pair, there’s no knowing what starts you’ll get up to! No, I’ll go with Laurie to see he behaves himself.”
“Serve you right if I put you in a ditch for that,” grinned her brother. “Lord, though, I’m looking forward to handling those bays of John’s! As neat a pair as ever I set eyes on, give you my word!”
During the early part of the journey, Corinna was unusually silent. She had not yet completely recovered from the unaccountable shyness with Sir Richard which had overcome her since their return from France. She managed to conceal it well enough when they were in company with the others; but to be sitting in close proximity to him in the curricle cast her into a state vexingly near to confusion. She stole a glance from time to time at the firm profile and strong, capable hands so admirably controlling his fresh horses; and there flashed into her mind the many instances during their escape from France when his cool head and swift decisions had brought them safely through danger. Laurence, the rebel and hothead, had unquestioningly accepted his leadership; a tribute, she felt, not so much to seniority as to strength.
He looked down at her, his blue eyes quizzical.
“I fear I’m in the suds again,” he said, smiling wryly. “Wherein have I erred this time?”
She coloured a little. “No such thing — I was merely watching the way you handle your horses.”
“Admiringly?” He shook his head. “No, that’s too much to expect. Critically, then? Perhaps you will like to set me right — shall I change places and let you tool the curricle?”
The Intrepid Miss Haydon Page 13
