Eye of the Wind

by Jane Jackson

  He gazed at her, fear for her safety battling with wonderment at her courage and sheer practicality. He knew he could trust her, knew also that she trusted him. But what was driving her to do this? How deep were her feelings for Robert Bracey?

  If he answered her it was tacit acceptance that she would accompany him. Imagining the hazards they might encounter chilled his blood, and, despite the heat and closeness of the air, his skin tightened as he shivered. But he saw no alternative.

  ‘There’s sure to be an empty cask in the yard,’ he said abruptly. ‘I’ll fill it at the spring. Will you bring some brandy? For medicinal purposes?’

  She nodded, and the true state of her nerves was revealed in an anxious giggle. ‘What shall we do for a boat? You weren’t planning to use the one you go fishing in, were you?’

  ‘We may as well put to sea in a bath. No, there’s a

  28-foot gaff cutter moored in the inlet just round the headland.’

  ‘I know the one you mean. It belongs to Henry Glasson. As he’s confined to bed with inflammation of the lungs, he won’t need it for a few days.’

  ‘Let’s hope no one tells him it’s missing.’ He studied her, anxiety tightening the muscles at the back of his neck. What was he thinking of, letting her risk her life like this?

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she said quietly.

  ‘I doubt it.’ His brief, hard laugh contained little humour.

  ‘Answer me honestly,’ she challenged. ‘Is there anyone in the village you trust more than me?’

  Her question took him aback. As he hesitated, he saw her relax slightly for she had her answer. She smiled.

  ‘I’m perfectly well, and have recovered my strength. You need have no fears for me, Gabriel. I won’t let you down.’

  He bent his head, biting his lips to stop himself saying things he had no right to say, words of love that once voiced could not be recalled. The urge to speak, to touch, to tell her everything, was unbearable, and his heartbeat pounded like thunder in his ears.

  ‘Gabriel?’

  Pulling himself together, he met her gaze. ‘Yes?’ It emerged as a harsh rasp.

  ‘I –’ She glanced away, her cheeks scarlet. ‘What time do you want to leave? My aunts and uncles are coming to dinner tonight, but they do not keep late hours and should be gone by half-past ten.’

  ‘What about Lobb, and your maid? How will you –’

  ‘I’ll manage. Don’t concern yourself. Is there anything else we’ll need?’

  ‘No.’ It wasn’t true. They would need a compass. With the weather about to change, thick cloud was likely which would make it impossible to steer by the stars. But she had enough to worry about. One way or another he would find anything else they might require. ‘I’d like to set off before midnight.’

  ‘Shall I meet you at the boat? I’m familiar with the path down to the inlet.’

  ‘Are you sure you can manage with what you have to carry?’

  ‘Yes.’ She sounded strained, and he guessed that, having made her decision and obtained his agreement, she was beginning to recognise the enormity of undertaking. She nodded and turned away. ‘We should go. Billy will be starting to wonder why we are taking so long.’

  ‘Melissa?’ She looked round, visibly startled at his use of her name.

  ‘Please be careful.’ It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but as her eyes searched his he feared he had already said too much, that she would see, and know. But she gave a brief nod and, picking up her skirts, set off back toward Billy.

  He followed, watching her move with swift, easy strides along the rough path. He had not seen her for ten days. Each morning, not daring to ask, he had eavesdropped shamelessly, desperate for any word about her. He knew better than anyone the weight of the burden she was carrying. Every day he had worked himself to exhaustion, and every night sleep had eluded him as he agonised over what he should do. She was without doubt the most remarkable young woman he had ever met. And he, who had dallied and flirted and amused himself with willing female companions, was deeply in love with a girl he had never even kissed. And never would.

  As soon as he had brought Robert Bracey safely back to Cornwall, he must leave. He had stayed too long already, and would not be able to contain his feelings if he remained. Whether in his guise as Gabriel Ennis, or unmasked as Lord Roland Stratton, the consequences for her should their liaison be discovered could only be disastrous. He could not risk it. He loved her too much. Perhaps she would find happiness with Bracey. The very thought was like a thousand blades piercing his soul. But it would be better for her. All he could offer was disgrace.

  After leaving Gabriel and Billy, Melissa returned briefly to the house, then rode into Truro where she spent an hour with Mr Rogers signing various receipts and collecting the men’s wages. He was deeply perturbed that she had made the journey alone.

  ‘Miss Tregonning, I beg you, for the sake of your safety and my peace of mind, to ensure you bring a footman or groom with you whenever you intend to carry large sums of money.’ He waved a silk handkerchief in front of his face and seemed genuinely dismayed. ‘I shall send young Webber to accompany you as far as the crossroads.’

  ‘There’s really no need.’

  ‘Indeed there is!’ He was shocked. ‘I have a certain reputation in the town, Miss Tregonning. One it has taken some years to acquire. I do not wish it lost overnight, which it certainly would be should it become known that I had permitted you to leave these premises unaccompanied while carrying a purse of that size. The very idea!’

  Melissa had apologised, and drunk the cup of tea Mr Rogers procured for her while the tallest and burliest of his junior clerks was sent to the nearest posting inn to hire a hack for an hour.

  Now, as she rode into the yard, she guessed it must be almost four o’clock. Dismounting, she tethered Samson to the iron ring and lifted the leather purse from the bag strapped to her saddle.

  ‘All right, my handsome?’ Tom beamed, rubbing his hands as he emerged from the office. ‘Better now, are you? Some worried we was. ‘’Tisn’t like you to get ill. Been doing too much, you have.’

  ‘Don’t fuss, Tom.’ She smiled. ‘It was just a cold, nothing serious. I’m fine again now.’ In fact, she was already slightly weary. But with the most demanding of the day’s activities still some hours ahead, and dinner with her aunts to be got through first, she could not afford even to think of feeling tired.

  He studied her. Beneath straggling, bushy brows his eyes were sharp and perceptive. ‘Is that so? Well, if you was to ask me, I’d say you was looking –’

  ‘Yes, well, I wasn’t asking you. And unless you intend to tell me I look the way I feel, which is in excellent health and spirits, I think we should change the subject.’

  He raised his hands, palms out as if to fend her off. ‘All right. Beg pardon, I’m sure.’ He grinned. ‘Here, I got a bit of good news for you. The packet’s ready to have her masts stepped and rigged.’

  ‘Tom, that’s wonderful! I certainly didn’t expect – not yet anyway, especially as you’re short-handed.’

  The foreman hunched one shoulder, diffident and gratified at her genuine delight. ‘Been working like buggery, they have, miss, begging your pardon. Look, I know you probably got a lot on your mind –’

  She masked the sudden tight twist of fear behind a wry face. ‘You could say so. My aunts and uncles are coming to dinner tonight.’

  ‘They are? What, all of them?’ His grimace matched hers. ‘Well, you’ll want to get on home soon as you done the pay. Best get on, then.’ He gestured for her to precede him into the office. ‘But what I was going to say: I expect you remember mister always had a bit of a celebration when a new ship’s masts was stepped, and seeing how the men have worked so hard, I was thinking –’

  ‘Of course,’ Melissa broke in. Focused on the more immediate financial return from the wood, she had put the packet to the back of her mind. ‘The tradition must certainly continue. Did you have a
day in mind?’

  Tom sucked in a breath through his teeth. ‘Say the end of next week?’

  ‘I’ll send Gilbert down with baskets of food, a couple of barrels of ale, and a bottle or two of brandy for a special toast.’

  Tom frowned. ‘What do you mean, you’ll send Gilbert down? You got to be here.’

  ‘I don’t know, Tom. I’m not sure it would be proper, with me still being in mourning, I mean.’

  ‘You listen, my handsome. We’re all mourning ’un. But the work have gone on just the same. And if it wasn’t for all you been doing, getting they woods paying and all, we wouldn’t have nothing to celebrate. Of course you got to come.’

  ‘Well, I appreciate the invitation.’ She smiled at him, pulled out the chair and seated herself on the creased, grubby cushion, and unfastened the purse. Above the crunch and clatter of boots she could hear male voices as the men came from the various sheds and outbuildings, from the slips and from inside the hull of the packet. As she read down through the names, checking the hours worked, her gaze lighted on Gabriel’s name and her heart gave an extra beat so powerful it took her breath for a moment. Later tonight they would set sail for the other side of the Channel. Right now she must act as if he was just one more employee in Tregonning’s boatyard.

  Later, back in her bedroom, she realised that she could not simply disappear for two days. It would be too unfair on the servants. Sure she had come to harm, they would feel bound to inform her relations. Within hours, the whole neighbourhood would be ablaze with rumours.

  That was precisely what she did not want, nor would Robert. His letter had stressed the importance of absolute secrecy. But there was one person she had no choice but to tell. Without whose help she would not be able to do what she had promised. Stepping out of her habit, she turned to her maid, who was at the closet selecting a dress.

  ‘Sarah, leave that for a minute and come here.’ Melissa sat on the edge of the bed and patted the coverlet. ‘I want to tell you something. But first, I must ask you to swear a sacred oath that you will not breathe a word of what I tell you to a living soul. Will you do that?’

  ‘Dear life, miss!’ Sarah perched on the edge of the bed and smoothed her apron over her lap. ‘Whatever is it?’

  ‘First you must swear.’

  ‘I swear on my mother’s life. Not a word to a living soul,’ Sarah said firmly.

  Taking a deep breath, Melissa told her maid of Robert’s letter, and how she and Gabriel were leaving that night to bring him back. Sarah’s eyes grew enormous and her hands flew to her mouth.

  ‘My dear soul! What if you get caught?’

  Suppressing a pang of fear, Melissa waved her anxiety aside. ‘The smugglers’ boats make regular trips. Very few of them ever get caught.’

  ‘But they’re used to it. Still, I suppose Gabriel know what he’s doing.’ She clasped her hands to her chest. ‘Ooh, miss, ’tis some romantic, you being the only one your sweetheart do trust to rescue him from his prison.’

  ‘Oh, but I’m not –’ Melissa began, then stopped as she realised the conclusion Sarah had leapt to – that Robert was the object of her affections – offered the perfect, if poignant, cover. For she would never care for Robert the way she cared for Gabriel. While Robert’s rescue, and safe delivery of his information, were of great importance, without Gabriel to turn to she would never have attempted it. ‘I’m not rescuing him from prison, just from a beach. Not half so dangerous.’

  ‘Look at us! We haven’t got time to sit around talking.’ Sarah jumped to her feet. ‘What time are you going?’

  ‘As soon as the household is settled for the night.’

  ‘What are you going to wear? Won’t be easy climbing about on a boat in long skirts.’

  ‘Oh Lord, I never thought.’ Grabbing a robe, she pulled it around her. ‘Come with me.’

  Sarah was bewildered. ‘Where we going? Here, you can’t –’

  ‘Hush.’ Melissa opened the door, took a quick look both ways, then started along the passage. ‘We’re going to the attic.’

  ‘Whatever for?’ Sarah hurried along beside her.

  ‘There are trunks full of my brothers’ clothes up there. We should be able to find something that will fit me.’

  ‘You’re going to dress up like a man?’ Sarah gasped.

  ‘You just said I can’t go in long skirts,’ Melissa pointed out. ‘You’re right. I’ll be far safer and much more comfortable in breeches.’

  ‘Yes, but what if someone sees you? I don’t like it. Truly I don’t. ’Tisn’t right nor proper.’

  ‘If all goes well, no one will see me: only Gabriel and Robert, and they will understand the reason. So stop worrying.’ If all goes well. Fear knotted her stomach.

  Twenty minutes later, back in her bedroom, Melissa surveyed the clothes laid out on her bed. Rifling through the trunks they had found breeches, coats, waistcoats, shirts, neckcloths, and boots, and brought down several of everything in different sizes. Stripping to her underwear, Melissa began trying on each garment.

  ‘As soon as my aunts and uncles have gone I shall retire to bed,’ she said over her shoulder to Sarah, who held a well-cut frock coat of forest green superfine. ‘You must tell Lobb and Mrs Betts that I have overstretched myself, and am running a slight fever. It is nothing to cause concern, but sufficient to keep me in bed for the next two days.’

  She flung the coat away. ‘It’s too tight. Let me try that one, the dark blue.’ She turned her back and slipped her arms into the sleeves while Sarah held it. ‘I have left instructions that I am not to be disturbed. You alone are to attend me, and I desire nothing but hot water to wash with, and cool drinks. You must either drink them yourself, or pour them into the slop bucket. You may tell Mrs Betts I have no appetite, otherwise you will have to eat for me as well. Is everything clear?’

  ‘Yes, miss.’ Sarah surveyed her critically. ‘That dark blue do look handsome. Here, try the grey breeches.’

  Melissa surveyed herself in the long glass. As she turned, her hair swung forward over one shoulder and she grabbed it, meaning to toss it back. ‘What shall I do with this?’

  ‘Braid it up, shall I?’ Stripping off the coat and breeches and setting them to one side, Melissa sat down on the padded velvet stool in front of her dressing-table. She gazed at her reflection for a moment, at the thick black, wavy tresses that tumbled over her breast almost to her waist. She thought of what might happen if they were sighted by another boat, or boarded. Her height, and male attire, aided her disguise as a man. Long hair, even braided around her head, would instantly betray her. Opening a drawer she took out a pair of scissors and handed them to her maid.

  ‘Cut it off, Sarah.’

  Backing away as if she had been offered a live snake, Sarah shook her head. ‘Oh, miss, not your beautiful hair. I can’t.’

  Melissa looked at her through the mirror, and shrugged. ‘If you can’t then I’ll have to do it myself. I’m sure to make a terrible mess. Then my aunts will want to know why I keep a maid who has so little idea of fashion –’

  ‘All right, I’ll do it, though it do grieve me something awful.’ Sarah took the scissors and studied her mistress with a frown. ‘You sure now? ’Cos once it’s off, I can’t put it on again.’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘Seeing you made up your mind, I can tell you this here new crop is all the rage. Not that I seen it myself, but Mrs Betts have got pictures in the ladies’ magazine she do get from her sister. I must say it look handsome. I reckon it would suit you.’

  ‘Then you’d better get a move on, Sarah, or my relations will be arriving before I’m ready.’ Sarah picked up a comb, and Melissa closed her eyes against the sting of tears. It was necessary, and she wouldn’t waste time regretting it. But she couldn’t watch. She didn’t look when Sarah told her she had finished cutting, and was just going down to fetch a pitcher of hot water.

  ‘It will look even better when ’tis washed, miss. I won’t be more than a
minute.’ True to her word, she was soon back with the pitcher in one hand and a small jug in the other. ‘While I was waiting for the kettle, I beat the yolk of an egg with a pint of spring water and quarter of a pint of vinegar. Bring your curls up lovely, that will. Bend over the basin.’

  ‘Now,’ Sarah said, flicking the towel away after rubbing Melissa’s head dry. ‘I’ll just put a comb through it and … There now. What do you think?’

  Opening her eyes, Melissa stared at her new image. The short, bubbly curls gave her skull new definition. Feathered onto her forehead and in front of her ears, they made her cheekbones seem higher, her eyes larger. She swallowed.

  ‘It’s certainly – different. Thank you, Sarah, you’ve done a marvellous job.’

  ‘You wait till your aunts see it. Be green with envy they will.’

  ‘Oh my goodness! What’s the time?’ Melissa leapt up from the stool and, while she finished dressing, she gave Sarah more instructions.

  ‘I shall need enough cold food for two people for two days, and some extra for the journey back as Robert will be with us. You know: bread, cheese, cold meat, pies, tarts, fresh fruit. If Mrs Betts asks, tell her it’s for some poor folk in the village who’ve all been ill and unable to work. I’ll give you my father’s hip flask. I want you to fill it with brandy. You probably know better than I do where Mr Lobb keeps the kegs that Father didn’t pay duty on. If you fill it from one of those, hopefully he won’t notice. If there’s any lemonade left, I’d really appreciate it if you could put some in a bottle for me.’

  ‘You leave it to me, miss. I’ll have it all ready, and no one the wiser.’

  Hearing horses’ hooves and the rumble of carriage wheels, Melissa slipped her feet into black and white kid slippers and adjusted the white plaited lace at the neck of her black silk gown. Then, taking a deep breath, she hurried out of the door Sarah was holding open for her, and flew downstairs.