Nevertheless, she was not averse to being made the object of his attentions once more, even though in a lesser degree she shared this honour with one or two other nubile young ladies present. She offered him no encouragement, however, maintaining her cool reception of his compliments in a way she certainly could not have achieved last summer. Far from discouraging him, this treatment seemed only to urge him to make greater efforts to please.
He invited her to ride with him on the following day, but she was ready with an excuse. It was difficult to manufacture excuses for every successive day, though; so she was finally brought to promise, albeit in the most off-handed way, that she would go out with him one morning next week, should the weather prove suitable.
During their various brief interchanges, she noticed Sir Richard’s eye upon them in spite of his being frequently in Frances Cheveley’s company; for some reason this seemed to give her a perverse pleasure. When next she spoke to that gentleman, she made a point of telling him that she was to ride with Mr Grenville.
“Delightful for you,” was his terse comment.
But Lydia made no attempt to appear pleased at the news.
“I did think, Corinna,” she said severely, on their way home, “that you would feel too disgusted at his past conduct to encourage him to dangle after you again. Mama would be most distressed to know that you have taken up with him once more.”
“I tell you what, Lydia, it would be a splendid thing if my family would allow me to manage my own affairs!”
“But, dearest, you know we only desire your happiness,” protested her sister.
“Very likely, and so everyone always says who tries to interfere with one!”
Lydia saw that she was angry, and thought it wiser to say no more. She subsided into her corner of the carriage, looking so hurt that presently Corinna relented.
“I’m sorry — I know you mean well,” she acknowledged in a quieter tone. “But truly, Lyddy, I mean only to flirt a little. I am in no danger, I assure you.”
Lydia was not so certain of this; but Corinna, having said it partly to reassure her sister, found herself wondering if in fact it might not be true.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
During the week that followed, Lydia resumed her usual social round and Corinna became caught up in morning calls, dinner engagements, and evening parties. They were all invited to Chyngton Manor when the Cheveleys dined there a few days after Grenville’s housewarming party. Frances looked particularly charming, thought Corinna, in palest aquamarine sarsnet, with her dark hair piled up into a topknot from which curls dangled to the nape of her neck. She was sitting beside Sir Richard at table, and when she turned to speak to him the ringlets danced. Vastly fetching, thought Corinna, with a touch of acerbity of which she was instantly ashamed; for she was really quite fond of Frances, and knew her to be a girl who did not study for effect. Even so, she might shake her curls at any other man with Corinna’s goodwill, wryly reflected that young lady; but Sir Richard Beresford was Haydon property, and it did not suit Corinna’s notions for him to be thinking of matrimony.
She said as much to Lydia when she went into her sister’s bedroom to say good night at the conclusion of that evening. Lydia had remarked that it really began to look as if there might be something serious between the two.
“Oh, what fustian!” exclaimed Corinna scornfully. “She’s a prodigiously pretty, unaffected girl, of course, and any man would find her company pleasant — but Richard! You must know, Lyddy, he’s the most complete cynic when it comes to female charms. I believe he’s cut out to be a bachelor, and I must say that would be the ideal solution for our own family. Imagine how Mama would go on, if she could not always rely upon Richard’s support and advice — she would be quite lost! Oh, no, he mustn’t marry!”
“Well, I must say,” protested Lydia, laughing, “it comes to a pretty pass if poor Richard must remain a bachelor simply for the convenience of our family! You can’t be serious!”
“But I truly believe that is what he desires himself,” insisted Corinna. “He’s not at all in the petticoat line, as Laurie would say.”
“Perhaps not, until now, but I do detect signs of an awakening interest in Frances Cheveley, and I think you must do, too, if only you’d admit it.”
But this Corinna was not at all prepared to do. The mere notion was repugnant.
She had been meeting Madeleine frequently, although not every day, but so far there had been no news to give her of any reply to the advertisement.
“I begin to despair, Corinna,” said the girl sadly.
“No such thing! It is being repeated regularly, and I feel sure will produce a response before long. Such matters often take a little time, you know.”
“Yes, and if nothing comes of it soon,” put in Laurence, who was present on this occasion, as on several previous ones, “I’ll carry on with our former scheme. I’m getting a trifle bored with hanging about night after night up at Eastdean Place, and nothing to show for it.”
“Well, at least Madeleine has seen no more of that dreadful man whom we think to be one of the smugglers,” said Corinna. “That’s something to be thankful for, at all events.”
“No such thing — he’s the very man I do want to see,” insisted Laurence. “That fellow’s the key to the whole, give you my word! Only thing that keeps me haunting the place is the hope that he’ll turn up again.”
Oddly enough, it was on the very next night that his hopes were realised.
He had been patrolling the house as usual and was hovering in the vicinity of the kitchen door when his quick ear caught the muted sound of footsteps approaching. He had just time to take cover behind a large stack of logs for firing when the dark figure of a man passed close to his hiding place, pausing before the kitchen door to rap gently three times upon it with his knuckles.
The sound was barely audible to Laurence, and could not possibly have aroused anyone who was not immediately behind the door waiting for it. Nevertheless, the door was opened at once, showing a light within. A second figure appeared on the threshold, whom Laurence identified as Grenville.
“Is that you, Jack?” he asked softly. “Come inside.”
For a brief moment as he obeyed this order and moved into the light, the man addressed as Jack became visible to the watching Laurence. He was of medium height, slim and dark haired; with nothing to go on but the description given by Madeleine, Laurence decided with a tingle of excitement that this must be the intruder she had encountered.
The door closed firmly but quietly behind the pair. Allowing a few moments to elapse, Laurence ventured out from his place of concealment and crept towards it. Hopefully he applied first his eye and then his ear to the keyhole, but without result.
He swore under his breath. There seemed nothing to be done but wait for this fellow Jack to come out of the house and follow him. Accordingly, he concealed himself again behind the stack of logs, prepared for a lengthy vigil. To his surprise, the man emerged in less than ten minutes, the door closing firmly behind him.
It was not easy to follow his quarry in the gloom of the clouded sky, even though Laurence’s eyes had by now become somewhat accustomed to the dark. Jack, on the other hand, walked forward confidently, as one who knew every inch of the way. He took a grassy path which led round the back of the stables to a gate which was evidently the stable exit. Laurence followed him through the gate, which fortunately did not creak, and continued down the narrow lane beside the boundary wall, keeping well into the wall in case his quarry looked back.
Presently they emerged from the lane into the wider track which led back to the village in one direction and down to Birling Gap in the other. Jack turned towards the sea and Laurence followed, nerves taut, for now there was no cover at all, but only the open cliff.
They had covered almost a mile, the track descending all the time, when Laurence saw the dark shapes of a few small buildings ahead. It seemed likely that his man would enter one of these cottages, i
f such they were, but it was too risky for him to approach any closer.
Cautiously, he lowered himself to the ground; and now he could hear the surge of the sea against the pebbles at the foot of the cliff. Presently the dark blur of Jack’s figure merged into the surrounding gloom as it drew farther away from him.
He remained where he was, motionless, until he was rewarded by a gleam of light from one of the cottages, by which he could see the outline of a man’s figure as he stepped inside the opened door. The light vanished, and all was dark again. After a short interval, he rose to his feet and made a stealthy advance towards the building where he had seen the light.
As he had thought, it was a small cottage, one of some three or four in a row. Now that he was close up to the door, he espied a chink of light coming through one of the windows. He moved cautiously across to it, but not cautiously enough. His foot encountered some object on the ground, he stumbled, put out a hand to save himself, and in so doing came into contact with the window.
The noise was slight, but it was sufficient to rouse the inhabitants. Before Laurence could take to his heels, two pairs of rough hands had seized him and hauled him into the cottage. Naturally, he put up a strong resistance, but was forced to yield when a knife was held at his throat.
Corinna went out riding with Grenville on the following morning, having evaded the issue as long as she could. She told herself that the outing had not the smallest significance for her, yet perversely took a great deal of trouble over her toilette. Her dark blue riding habit and matching hat set at a jaunty angle on her gold-brown curls brought praise from Lydia.
“Indeed, you look charmingly, my love! But I wish it were for some other gentleman.”
“Do females dress for gentlemen or for themselves?” laughed Corinna. “In any event, this is new and it’s high time I gave it an airing. I bought it in Paris, you’ll remember.”
“Yes, I do recollect. What a slug-a-bed our brother is! Here it is, going on for noon and he hasn’t deigned to put in an appearance.” Corinna knew very well how Laurence spent his nights, but had agreed to say nothing to Lydia unless it became essential. She returned some airy reply, therefore, and shortly afterwards Grenville was admitted.
Not long was spent in civilities before the pair departed on their ride. The day was ideal for riding, neither too hot nor too breezy; and the green downs, emblazoned with yellow gorse and scented by wild thyme, stretched invitingly before them. After a short, exhilarating gallop, they slowed their horses to a walking pace and he drew closer, putting out a hand to her rein.
“That was capital! Quite like old times!” he said, laughing down at her. “I can never forget the rides we had together in your home country.”
She could not altogether remain impervious to the intimate look he gave her, but her voice was casual as she replied that Kent, too, was splendid riding country.
“Ah, but I refer to the company,” he persisted, sliding his hand up the rein to cover hers. “Did I not tell you so but a few days since?”
She removed her hand gently. “I fear you are at your old game of flirting, sir.”
“Are you still determined to punish me? All that is past — I swear it! And now I am free to please myself. You must know—”
He broke off, frowning, as a horse and rider rounded the bend in the track and came suddenly upon them.
It was Sir Richard, mounted upon a handsome bay which at once drew forth an admiring comment from Grenville after the first greetings. The two men exchanged a few words on that subject, then Sir Richard touched his hat and prepared to ride on; but Corinna stopped him, saying that as they were about to turn towards home, he might as well accompany them.
He hesitated, looked at Grenville but could read nothing in that urbane expression, then finally agreed. They rode together, idly chatting of this and that, until the gates of Friston House were reached. Here Grenville made his excuses, hoped to have the pleasure of calling upon the ladies another day, and with one parting, significant look at Corinna, rode away.
“You’ll come in, won’t you?” Corinna asked Sir Richard. “That is, unless you’re upon an urgent errand elsewhere.”
“Thank you, I’ll look in for a moment.”
His voice sounded constrained, and she herself was not quite at ease. She had acted on impulse in suggesting that he ride back with them, not wishing for the moment to be alone with Grenville after the turn their conversation had taken. She felt that Sir Richard had sensed this, and it created an atmosphere of embarrassment between them.
They rode side by side up the drive and turned towards the stables. Halfway there, they were suddenly confronted by Laurence, looking rather less than his usual jaunty self. A piece of court plaster covered one side of his mouth and his face was further disfigured by a black eye.
“Laurie!” exclaimed his sister in horror. “What in the world have you done to yourself?”
“No need to set up a screech,” said Laurence repressively. “Got something to tell you — Richard, too, once you’ve got rid of the horses. Not indoors, though — in the shrubbery.”
Having handed the animals over to a groom, they followed him to this retreat, agog with curiosity.
“Long and short of it is, I’ve found the smugglers!” he began. “The one who threatened Madeleine, too — name’s Jack something or other.”
“Yes, you bear the appearance of one who’s flushed out some violent customers,” said Sir Richard with a wry grin.
“Almost put a period to my existence. But I’d better tell you the whole.”
He proceeded to do so, his sister listening with several involuntary exclamations of horror, and Sir Richard impassively but with close attention.
“They’d got the knife to my throat — and b’ God they meant business! — when I managed to croak out the one word ‘Fougeray’. I wanted to try and tell ’em that I’d come there only to look for that fellow, but I could see they didn’t intend to waste any time in listening to explanations, so I shot out the name as a last desperate throw! Never expected it to work like it did, though! This fellow Jack was holding the knife, and at that he raised it an inch or two away from my throat, thank God. Asked what I meant. Well, I started to explain — said I’d no interest in the smugglers but as a means of finding this man Fougeray. Halfway through, he stopped me, turned the others out, then had the full story from me.”
“Laurie, how dreadful!” shuddered Corinna. “You should never have attempted it! You might have been killed!”
“Did you learn anything to the purpose?” asked Sir Richard.
Laurence looked a trifle crestfallen. “Not precisely. He didn’t divulge the whereabouts of Madeleine’s cousin, but he did say that he knew where the fellow could be found, and would inform him. So I suppose that Madeleine will hear from her aunt eventually — that is, if this man’s word can be relied upon.”
“And then he allowed you to go? That seems odd.”
Laurence nodded. “Sent me off with a warning — won’t be so lucky next time, he promised, and I believe him, give you my word! Ugly customer, that one. Also said to keep mum, as they knew how to deal with informers. Well, I thought it best to say nothing to Lydia, so told her I’d walked into a door coming home after dark last night. She thought I was foxed, of course, and raked me down devilishly, but that don’t signify.”
“This is dreadful!” exclaimed Corinna. “Will you take any action against them, Richard? It is all so awkward with Madeleine involved!”
“I propose to take the course so expertly followed by our politicians, at least for the present,” he replied. “I shall keep a watching brief. If I might venture a word of advice to you both, I’d recommend you to keep out of this altogether. You’d do well, Laurie, to abandon your nocturnal vigils at Eastdean Place.”
“Ay, I dare say I must,” conceded Laurence reluctantly. “All the same, I’d like to know where Grenville comes into all this — there’s something devilish smoky going on up there.
Told you before this what I think, Richard — what’s your opinion?”
But although Sir Richard had his own views on this subject, he preferred for the moment to keep them to himself.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Madeleine had been delayed by her duties that same afternoon, and when at last she was at liberty, it was too late to go over to see Corinna. Mindful of her promise to the Haydons to look in every day at the summerhouse in case there should be a message left there for her, she cautiously slipped out of the house.
As she pushed open the rickety door and rushed to the cupboard she could see at once that there was nothing, but that did not deter her from making a thorough search to ensure that the precious missive had not become lodged in some crevice.
Presently she was obliged to accept the fact that there was no letter. Shutting the cupboard, she sank down upon the bench to abandon herself momentarily to despondent thoughts.
She was roused abruptly from her reverie as the door opened and a man strode purposefully towards her. She started up in terror, and had opened her mouth to utter a scream when a hand was clamped firmly over it. A dark face hovered close to hers — a face she had good reason to remember.
“Quiet!” he hissed, holding her tightly. “I mean you no harm, but I must speak with you! Promise you won’t shriek, and I’ll let you go.”
She nodded. Although his hold on her was firm, it was not as brutal as it had been on the occasion of their first encounter, nor was the expression in his eyes so terrifying. Nevertheless, when he released her, she sank trembling on to the bench, her knees giving under her.
“I am sorry,” he said, speaking in excellent French. “I see I’ve frightened you, and such is not my intention on this occasion. I did not know who you were when last we met. You are Mademoiselle Madeleine de Fougeray, daughter of the deceased Vicomte de Fougeray?”
The formal title somewhat restored Madeleine’s dignity. The fear died away from her face, showing its fine aristocratic lines as she lifted her chin proudly.
The Intrepid Miss Haydon Page 15
