The Intrepid Miss Haydon

by Alice Chetwynd Ley

  It must be nonsense, of course, to suppose that a gentleman of birth and breeding would stoop to deal in illegal traffic, and yet…

  She recalled all the circumstances which supported it; the secret visitors to Eastdean Place, the visit there of Madeleine’s cousin on the night Laurie was attacked. If all that were not evidence enough, why had a man-about-town such as Fabian Grenville suddenly decided to settle in a place he had always stigmatised as “a deadly boring hole,” and to abandon his quest for an heiress? And finally, where was he finding the funds to lay out on all his house improvement schemes? Everyone in the neighbourhood had remarked that nowadays he seemed to have money to burn.

  Her heart missed a beat as it suddenly occurred to her that perhaps she ought to warn Mr Grenville of Richard’s intentions with regard to the smugglers. Without betraying Madeleine, she could not say that she suspected he was involved, of course; but the mere mention would suffice. She was surprised to discover any hesitation in herself about doing this; once, she would have rushed to tell him. Now — what precisely were her feelings now? That if he had embarked on such a course, he deserved to take the consequences? It was something very like that, she admitted.

  It meant, as she had recently suspected more than once, that her period of enchantment with Fabian Grenville was gone forever. She could still on occasions react to his charm, as most females would to any personable man; but the former bittersweet ardour had vanished.

  Even as this thought crossed her mind, it was accompanied by a strong mental image of Richard as he had looked in the dawn of that morning when they had landed at Cuckmere Haven. Other images followed, particularly those in which she had been sparring with him and had seemed momentarily to penetrate his guard. She lingered on these recollections, at the same time wondering why it was that she enjoyed trying to provoke him. Was it because she was always hoping that sometime his restraint would break down completely, and — and what? She suddenly blushed fiery red.

  Resolutely pushing these thoughts aside, she decided not to wait for Madeleine any longer, but to go to their rendezvous at Eastdean Place with a note making an appointment for tomorrow. Corinna quickly dashed off the note, stowed it in her reticule, then donned a pretty straw bonnet with pink ribbons and set out.

  She had to hold on to the bonnet once she had left the shelter of the village, for a light breeze was blowing in from the sea. She approached the now familiar side entrance down the lane with more confidence than previously, but suffered a sharp setback as she saw that this time the battered door was ajar. She and Laurence had always assumed from its state of neglect that no one ever used that entrance. They were evidently wrong.

  She hesitated, half minded to turn back. But it seemed a pity to give up so easily, so instead she poked her head cautiously round the door. She looked anxiously about her, but could see no one. After a few moments, encouraged, she stepped inside among the trees.

  A twig caught in her bonnet, pulling it off; the next moment the breeze had floated it away. She started in pursuit, heedless now of the noise she made. She had almost reached it when she was suddenly seized in a pair of rough arms and shaken as a terrier shakes a rat.

  She let out a scream which was quickly stifled by her attacker.

  “Who are you?” he demanded in a fierce voice with a slight French accent. “What are you doing here, hein?”

  She shook her head, unable to answer because of the ruthless hand over her mouth. For once, she was frightened almost out of her wits, but instinctively she made some attempt to struggle.

  Through her terror she heard the pounding of footsteps. A second man rushed towards them.

  “Miss Haydon!” he exclaimed in accents of horror. “For God’s sake! Release her at once!”

  She recognised Grenville.

  “A ladybird of yours?” demanded the other man, keeping a tight hold on Corinna but taking his hand from her mouth.

  “The lady is a friend of mine,” returned Grenville brusquely. “Release her, I say!”

  “Only if you can guarantee her silence, mon ami. Otherwise, best let me deal with it.” His tone was ominous.

  “For God’s sake, leave it to me, you fool! I know how to handle this — you return to the house. You should never have left it. Go, damn you, go!”

  The man released Corinna abruptly, causing her to stagger. Grenville leapt forward to place a supporting arm about her, which at present she was too shaken to refuse.

  “Be very sure you do,” warned the other as he turned away. “One mistake, and you, too, will feel the consequences.”

  He disappeared among the trees, leaving Corinna still supported by Grenville. She was panting for breath, but gradually her wits were returning. She shook off Grenville’s arm.

  “You must allow me to assist you to the house, Miss Haydon,” he said solicitously. “You need to rest and have a restorative after your unfortunate experience. Pray, at least take my arm.”

  “I w-won’t go to your house,” she stuttered, shivering slightly. “Leave me alone — I won’t g-go!”

  “But you must sit down — your limbs can scarce support you. There is an old summerhouse not far away. If you won’t come to the house, let me guide you there to rest awhile.”

  She was still too overcome to object, so allowed him to take her arm and lead her to the summerhouse. On the way, they passed her bonnet lying in a clump of nettles and Grenville stooped to retrieve it. When they reached the hut, he pushed open the door for her, looking critically about him.

  “Not as dirty as I feared,” he remarked, leading her over to the bench and spreading his handkerchief for her to sit upon. “Can I fetch you anything, Miss Haydon? Smelling salts, a glass of wine?”

  She shook her head. He saw that she needed an interval to recover herself and wisely remained silent. Presently she roused, turning an indignant look upon him.

  “I suppose you have some explanation to offer as to why that person should show me violence?”

  “I can only apologise most humbly, ma’am. He is — excitable — and no doubt was startled by you.”

  “Not half so much as I was startled by him. Is he a lunatic? You have some odd friends, I must say, Mr Grenville!”

  “He’s not precisely a friend—” He paused, turning over in his quick mind what he should say. “Perhaps he could better be described as — a business associate.”

  Her eyes widened. “It must be a strange business that brings you into contact with such a man. Can it be — is it possible that — Mr Grenville, are you in any way connected with the smuggling that goes on hereabouts?” she blurted out.

  He started. “What gives you that notion?” he asked sharply.

  She attempted a shrug, half frightened now at her temerity. “Only something my brother said when we heard neighbours speculating about your coming here to live and — and seeming to be affluent all at once. And then this ruffian—”

  He had been listening to her stumbling explanation with a heavy frown on his brows, his mind working at lightning speed. He came to a decision.

  “Miss Haydon, can I rely on your discretion? If I explain these matters, will you promise to keep what I tell you to yourself?”

  So Laurie was right, she thought, with an inward apprehensive tremor.

  “You can’t expect me to make a blind promise,” she said firmly. “If you confide in me, I must be free to decide for myself whether or not I can respect that confidence. There might be reasons—”

  “So cautious?” he interrupted, with a wry smile. “That’s not in your character as I know it. Nevertheless, I’ve decided to trust you with my secret, certain that when you know all, you’ll perceive the necessity of silence. For this is a matter of national importance, not merely a personal issue.”

  “National importance!” she repeated, amazed. “I can’t think what you mean!”

  “That’s not to be wondered at, for the truth must sound strange indeed.”

  He knew she was of a romantic
disposition and saw that now her interest was keenly aroused.

  “You say your brother suspected that I had some connection with the smuggling gang,” he went on, fixing his expressive eyes on her with a serious look. “In a sense, that is true, but I have no part in their trade. They have another function which concerns me — they bring English spies out of France.”

  She gasped, but said nothing, hanging on his every word.

  “A base was needed close to the coast at a point where the smugglers could land these agents, so that they might deliver their dispatches, then lie up for a time awaiting a return voyage.”

  “Oh!” She took a deep breath. “I begin to see.”

  He nodded. “Exactly. Someone in high places knew of the house I owned here, knew also” — he paused, then continued glibly — “of my particular circumstances. They approached me, offered the means to enable me to make the place habitable and to maintain the position of a country gentleman. I was to mingle with my neighbours in the normal way, in order to disarm suspicion. Can you wonder, Miss Haydon, that I agreed readily to the plan, knowing that by so doing I was rendering valuable assistance to my country in the emergency of war? What patriotic Englishman could have decided otherwise?”

  She clasped her hands tightly together, carried away for the moment by his rhetoric.

  “No, indeed! And to think that I so nearly misjudged you! Not that I could altogether credit my brother’s wild fancies,” she added, forgetting her earlier doubts.

  “I trust he hasn’t mentioned them to anyone but yourself?” he asked quickly.

  “Oh, he did say something to Richard, but Richard laughed at him.”

  “Beresford? You’re sure he didn’t take it seriously?”

  She shook her head in answer, but he could see she was troubled. In fact, she was wondering whether she ought not to divulge the whole story of Madeleine, and also Sir Richard’s intention to put an end to the activities of the smugglers when the French girl had gone. Just in time she realised that those in authority must be fully aware of all that Mr Grenville had told her, and would therefore prevent any well-meant interference on Richard’s part. She decided to say nothing.

  “What is it?” he asked, for he had been watching her closely all the time. “There is something on your mind, I think. You’d best tell me.”

  “No, there is nothing. I was only thinking over what you had told me. It’s so very strange, that I cannot take it all in at once! But I must go now,” she finished, rising. “My sister will wonder where I am.”

  He jumped to his feet. “Of course. I’ll drive you home.”

  She protested that this was unnecessary, but he would not give way; so she was soon seated beside him in his curricle heading for the village.

  “One thing puzzles me,” he said. “How did you come to be inside my grounds, for I suppose you must have been there when my confederate came upon you?”

  “Oh, it was all the fault of this wretched article,” she said ingenuously, touching the somewhat bedraggled bonnet which she had restored to her head. “I was walking along the lane beside your house and I came upon a door in the wall which was half open. Of course I should not have done, I know, but I fear I’m inquisitive by nature, so I just peeped round. And then a gust of wind took my bonnet, and I darted in after it, and that — that man seized me—”

  She shuddered, hoping that he would be satisfied by this partially true explanation.

  “I see. Do you often take a walk round my grounds?” There was a hint of doubt in his tone.

  “Oh, I’m a great one for exploring the neighbourhood, as I think you know, sir!” she replied, forcing a laugh. “I was doing so when you met me the other day, if you remember.”

  He appeared to relax at this. “Yes, you were thinking of walking to Birling Gap on that occasion. If you will take my advice, ma’am, you won’t go there. It isn’t safe for you.”

  “Why not?” she asked quickly.

  “It’s the place used by the smugglers for landing contraband, and also for the more important business of which I’ve just told you. My word on it, I can’t be responsible for what may befall you should you go there. These are dangerous men, Miss Haydon, and it’s wisest to avoid their haunts.”

  “But what of you?” she asked solicitously. “You must be in constant danger yourself in such an enterprise!”

  “Do you care?” He leaned towards her, placing his hand over hers.

  She blushed and looked away as if confused; but inwardly she was thinking bitterly how contrary was life, which only offered the realisation of one’s dearest hopes when they had ceased to matter.

  “Please — don’t—” she murmured weakly.

  He withdrew his hand. “No, it’s not the best moment to press you for an answer. Forgive me. But someday soon, my dear Miss Haydon, I shall ask that question again.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  She was relieved that he refused to come in with her when they reached the house, excusing himself on the grounds of pressing affairs awaiting his attention.

  She found Lydia awaiting her in the small parlour on the ground floor which they used during the day. She looked a trifle anxious.

  “Oh, there you are at last! I wondered where on earth you’d gone. Madeleine is awaiting you in the shrubbery, by the way. I tried to persuade her to await you indoors, but she would not come. In view of what Richard says, perhaps it’s as well. Oh, dear, Corinna, I do trust you are not getting involved in any more scrapes! What am I to do with you?”

  Corinna made no answer, but hastened out to meet Madeleine. Her friend soon told her of all that had occurred that day, concluding with her removal to a cottage in the village.

  “Where precisely is this cottage?” asked Corinna. “I must know how to find it, for I may need to visit you there at some time.”

  Madeleine gave her directions, but added that she thought it unlikely that Corinna would be visiting her there.

  “You see, Jacques says he’ll be taking me to France in a very few days. It seems there is an important passenger who must be conveyed with all speed.”

  Corinna wondered if the man who had attacked her earlier might not be this passenger, but she said nothing.

  “I believe I know who it is,” continued Madeleine. “There was a man — I think he was French — who arrived late last night, and is staying in the house. But secretly, voyez-vous, for I discovered it only by chance and none of the other servants knows he is there. What is more, Corinna, I suspect that is the reason why I was asked to leave so suddenly. It is most odd, n’est-ce pas, what goes on in that house? I asked Jacques if this visitor might be his passenger, but he refused to answer.”

  “You say the man was French?” asked Corinna, considering for a moment as Madeleine nodded. “Yes, I believe he was, but if so—”

  She broke off, puzzled. English spies, Mr Grenville had said, yet the man she had encountered was undoubtedly French. Would Frenchmen then be spying against their own country?

  She saw that Madeleine was eyeing her oddly.

  “Do you know something of this man?” the girl asked suddenly.

  Corinna nodded. “Yes, I do, but — forgive me, my dear, but I’m not at liberty to speak of it.”

  A hurt expression came into the French girl’s face.

  “So far, we have never had any secrets from each other, you and I, Corinna!”

  “I know, and it’s not my wish that there should be any now. But this isn’t my secret, and I did in some sort promise to keep it. Please understand, please, my dear!”

  Madeleine nodded, swallowing her chagrin, and they went on to speak of other things. Corinna told her of Laurence’s departure and delivered his parting messages of goodwill.

  “Le bon Laurie — how I shall miss him,” said Madeleine sadly. “I shall miss you all, my dear, dear friends, and especially yourself, Corinna!”

  Corinna put an arm about her. “We’ll miss you, too, Madeleine. But recollect that you’re going
home to one who will amply console you!”

  Madeleine blushed, her dark eyes shining.

  Later that same evening, Sir Richard at last came to a decision to ride over to Friston House. He had been debating with himself about this all day; but whenever he recalled his most recent quarrel with Corinna, his jaw hardened and he told himself not to be a fool. It was plain that she considered him only as a tiresome mentor who sought to prevent her from acting as she wished. Plain, too, that in spite of all Grenville had done to arouse her disgust, she still chose to fancy herself in love with the fellow.

  He had very little doubt that, as Lydia believed, Corinna was only indulging in a perverse clinging to an outgrown infatuation. That fact did little to improve the situation. While she persisted in fostering the illusion, she was unlikely to turn her thoughts elsewhere. Even if she did, he thought bitterly, it would certainly not be in his direction.

  He asked himself when he had first come to love her, and the answer seemed to be always. From the days when she had been a little imp of mischief in a muslin dress more often torn and soiled than otherwise, until now, as a lovely young woman, she had held his heart in her careless hands.

  He would have declared himself last year, knowing that she was supremely indifferent to all her other suitors and that he would have an influential advocate in her mother; but he had wanted more than complaisance, loving her as he did, so had waited for some sign of awakening love on her part. Then Grenville had arrived on the scene, and it had been too late.

  This thought made him pull viciously at the rein, much to his horse’s surprise; for those hands were invariably gentle, though firm. The animal showed its disapproval, and it was some moments before Sir Richard had soothed it again.

  So what was to be done now? There were serious complications as far as Grenville was concerned; a reckoning must come before long, and she would be hurt just as much — though not as lastingly — as if her feelings for the man had been as deep as she supposed. Impossible to spare her that, for the issues were too grave, but most likely she would hate him thereafter.