by Janet Woods
He’d be stupid to ignore any connections hereabouts, however slight. Confidence grew in him and the smile he gave was more of a grimace. He didn’t like dealing with the unknown, preferring solid facts. Then he remembered that he and Alex had been good trackers when they’d been children, and there was no reason why they shouldn’t still be.
Yes … he wouldn’t be hard to find.
Eleven
Grace opened her eyes to discover she was lying on an unfamiliar bed, in a dimly lit room. There was a man in a chair, shirt-sleeved and waistcoated, a lantern burning on the table beside him.
‘Dominic,’ she said, her voice husky from lack of water.
When he rose she saw she was mistaken. Where Dominic’s face was finely boned and his eyes grey and astute, this man’s face was rounded and his eyes were pools of darkness. He was large too, bulkier than Dominic whose elegant stance and graceful walk reminded her of a cat.
When the man cleared his throat she jumped.
Her glance fixed on the jug and cup on the table next to him and she began to tremble with the terrible thirst raging inside her.
Yet she shrank against the wall when he approached with the cup, dragging behind her a feather soft tangle of quilt. She used it to cover her chest, for all she wore was her chemise.
‘You needn’t be afrighted girl, I won’t hurt you,’ he said and he held out the cup.
In her eagerness to relieve her thirst she almost snatched it from his hands, and she gulped it down so fast that half the liquid spilled down her front and the rest attacked her windpipe. When she began to choke he handed her a cloth, and taking the cup from her hands he refilled it.
‘This time sip it nice and slow, lest you be sick all over me. You’ve got to get some liquid into that body of yours. It’s not much use going to the effort of pouring it in if you’re going to cough it all up again. If you can’t do it by yourself I’ll help you, it’s a while since I had a pretty young wench in my arms.’
His voice was a gruff rumble. The chuckle he gave reassured her, but she shrank away from him again and the fog in her brain slowly cleared. ‘You’re Rafferty Jones.’
‘Could be I am, at that.’
‘You were a friend of Lady Florence. I don’t think I’ve heard you speak before.’
‘I’m not much of a talking man. Speech be a waste of air lessen you’ve got something to say, like a parson spouting the Lord’s will on Sunday.’
‘What were you doing at Oakford House?’
‘Passing by. I was singing a song to the lord after a jug or two of wholesome scrumpy when I heard a heavenly voice and I thought it was the ghost of Lady Florence herself. Best to leave her wailing in her grave, I thought to mesself. Then I remembered you were there alone, and the front door was hanging open on its hinges, and Daisy was kicking up a ruckus, inviting all and sundry to go in and out, and the house was dark. Happen you might have fallen down the stairs, or been murdered in your bed, or maybe a felon passing by had found you so tasty he carried you off.’
Her face heated. ‘A smuggler like you, Rafferty Jones.’
He shrugged. ‘That’s a fact, and though everybody knows it, nobody says it and I ain’t inclined towards beating up young ladies for my pleasure. And neither do I cast my business abroad for all and sundry to know.’ Deftly he changed the subject. ‘You look as though a flock of sheep have trampled all over you.’
She touched her bruised face. It was tender and she couldn’t stop herself from voicing a little vanity. ‘Do I look terrible?’
‘Reckon you do look frightening, at that, Missy Ellis, and I wouldn’t want to run into you on a dark night. ’Sides, I’m going to be wed in a week or so, all legal in the church with a reverend and all. My woman has inherited an inn over Mudeford way. I’ll be a respectable businessman then and will have a best hat to wear to church on Sunday.’ His face fell. ‘She’ll give me a right earful when she hears about this. By thunder she can be sour if she don’t get her own way. Still, my last wife was a nag, so I’ll soon get used to it.’
Grace smiled at the thought of him being respectable. Mudeford was well named, and was used as a drop-off point for smugglers, and was once the domain of overseas traders. She took a couple of sips of water and gazed at him over the cup. Every sip trickled through her body like a stream of rain on a dry riverbed. She felt stronger, and her fear abated. ‘You have no intention of hurting me, do you?’
‘It sounds as though Lady Florence filled your head with her tales. What she didn’t tell you was the truth.’
‘Which is?’
‘She were in the thick of it, as were several people of her acquaintance in these parts, including the Curtis couple. We used her cellar as a clearing house.’
Grace gasped. ‘That’s nonsense. I would have known if she’d been smuggling. Besides, she couldn’t walk unaided.’
‘She didn’t have to walk. All she had to do was turn a blind eye to it and keep her mouth closed. The money she earned helped support the orphanage.’
Still Grace felt she should defend her late employer. ‘She wouldn’t have been dishonest without a good cause. The orphanage was her favourite charity.’
Remembering the condition in Lady Florence’s will, with regard to her own future she shrugged. ‘I admit she had some peculiar notions sometimes.’
A grin spread across Rafferty’s face. ‘That she did … and she got her peculiar notions free of charge from the bottom of a brandy bottle.’
Aware of the direction his eyes had taken she realized her covering had slipped. She dragged it up and folded her arms over her chest. ‘What do you intend to do with me?’
‘That depends how well you behave. A sweet little lady like you would bring a small fortune if sold into slavery.’
Her heart began to beat against her ribs. ‘Mr LéSayres might have something to say to that.’
‘Reckon it wouldn’t do him any good. It strikes me he should have taken better care of you in the first place.’
The door opened and a woman entered, tying a spotless white apron round her waist. Her presence eased the tension in the room. ‘I heard voices. Has the girl regained her senses, Raff? I told you to let me know when she did.’
‘What there is of them, and she’s being too pert by far, especially for one who is enjoying the hospitality and protection of my home. I’m getting some water into her.’
The woman snorted. ‘Hospitality, is it? It looks as though you’re trying to drown her since more has gone down her front than down her throat.’ The woman moved closer and gazed at her face. Her voice softened. ‘There’s a mess you’re in, young lady. I’m Jancy, Raff’s sister for my sins. Not that he’s anything to brag about. In fact he’s more brag than bite.’
Raff grinned. ‘I’ve never heard no complaints before.’
‘Who did this to you? No, don’t tell me … it was that Curtis creature I’ll be bound. He can be a vicious sod when he doesn’t get his own way.’
The smuggler nodded. ‘They were after the girl’s legacy, no doubt, and anything else they could lay hands. Once they’d used up the cash, you wouldn’t have seen their backsides for dust. Then there’s the question of the strongbox, and its whereabouts. It’s obvious the Curtis couple turned the place upside-down looking for it.’
Rafferty Jones had a lazy way with him, and he turned, casual and friendly, though his eyes were as sharp as flint. ‘You don’t happen to know where Mr LéSayres hid it, I suppose?’
It was a straightforward question that deserved a truthful answer. ‘No, and if I did know I wouldn’t tell you. It’s not your business.’
When he took a step towards her, Grace grabbed up the jug and lifted it over her head. It was heavier than she’d expected and she couldn’t support it. It tipped, and the remaining water poured down her back. Its coldness made her gasp, yet soothed the fiery pain burning in her back. ‘I’ll thump you over the head with this if you come any closer.’
Raff gave a booming lau
ghed as he plucked the jug from her hands. ‘I was just going to refill your cup. It looks like you’re making a good job of braining yourself. You’re a fierce little minx when your temper rises, like a cornered stoat. Your man will need a strong hand to deal with you.’
The only man she could think of in that way came wrapped in the skin of Dominic LéSayres and her gaze became fierce. ‘He’d better not place a hand in anger on me else he’ll get a smack around the ear for his trouble … besides, I haven’t got a man.’
Jancy stepped in. ‘Rafferty Jones, stop your teasing. Now, we need some privacy so I can give the girl a wash, dress her and make her more comfortable. After that, if nobody has come for her we’re going to take her back to Oakford House until, mayhap, her imaginary gentleman awaits.’
An almost irresistible urge to giggle raced through Grace as she pictured herself posed in a red silk gown on a staircase. Everyone rise to your feet for Mr LéSayres and Miss Nobody. Did she know anybody called nobody?
Her gentleman? It had a nice sound to it. What if Dominic never came back to Oakford House? Perhaps he’d simply abandoned her. Grace shuddered, for the last thing she wanted was to be in that house alone. ‘No! I don’t want to stay at Oakford House by myself. Please don’t send me back there.’
When her voice caught in her throat she was drawn into the woman’s arms. ‘There there, I’ll keep you company until someone comes. You’re safe now, and soon you’ll feel much better. There’s not much I can do about the bruises and swelling but you know better than I that they’ll fade in time … some witch hazel to sooth the pain a little perhaps. Raff, you fetch me a bowl of warm water, and a jug beside, and quick smart.’
Sponges, soap – the lavender-scented one that Grace had made for Lady Florence – and towels, were quickly assembled. She pondered on the soap. It was an odd object for Rafferty to steal on his infrequent visits to Oakford House.
Raff’s body filled the door frame. ‘What shall I do now, Jancy?’
‘You wouldn’t do it if I told you! To start with you can stop flapping in the doorway like a moth in a spider’s web. You can fetch that bodice and gown hanging on the drying rack. It belongs to the young lady and it should be warm and dry by now. Then you can make yourself useful by finding something better to do than hang around us. Go and chop some logs for the fire.’
Remembering her manners, and to give Rafferty Jones his due, Grace said, ‘Thank you for your help, Mr Jones.’
His grin spread from one ear to the next and he disappeared.
A few minutes later an arm came through the door with clothing dangling from a hooked finger.
Grace winced as Jancy gently washed her hair and body and she shivered when the woman applied the soothing witch hazel. She put out a small feeler. ‘The soap has a lovely fragrance.’
‘Lady Florence sent it back with Raff. He said it was a gift for my birthday. I only use it on special occasions.’
‘Is this a special occasion then? I was paid to be a companion to Lady Florence, you know. I wasn’t a guest.’
‘It’s said you’re a proper lady down on her luck. Besides, it’s a pleasure to have another woman to talk to. It was a shame you were left destitute. People speak highly of you. Just the other day I overheard a woman in the marketplace say, “Miss Ellis is an angel”.’
When the weight of an imaginary halo landed on her head Grace shucked it off. Goodness … she hadn’t realized Lady Florence had such a careless tongue. It seemed as though everybody knew her business, and more beside. An angel, was she? Grace grinned.
Jancy sounded angry when next she spoke. ‘My brother wouldn’t have done this to you, though people will blame him when the dandy folk find out. Them in charge can get mighty puffed up with their own importance sometimes, and won’t listen to nobody excepting themselves. That’s why Raff brought you to me, so your reputation doesn’t suffer.’
A noble cause indeed, Grace thought with a painful grin. ‘That was kind of him. They’ll listen to me when I tell them it was Brian Curtis who injured me.’ She imagined Dominic’s expression when he set eyes on her damaged face. Horrified because he’d left her alone, he would feel responsible. But he couldn’t have predicted that Brian Curtis would have done this to her. She was sure that by now there would be no evidence of smuggled brandy around. Kegs would have been bottled, labelled and receipted, and safely stored in the cellars of the wine merchant, Jones and Son, plus other outlets.
‘I was locked in my room and had nothing to eat or drink. Now I’ve regained my senses I can remember a few things, like Mr Jones carrying me back here to get some help from you. I’ll tell them your brother saved my life.’
‘It would be no lie, would it? The colour of the bruises will be witness to it. They be at least three days old.’
When Grace was dressed, Jancy sat her in front of the fire and gently began to brush the damp tangles from her hair. There was a muffled, regular thudding sound.
Thud! Thud! Thud! A pause. Thud! Thud!
It was the axe splitting logs. She began to count each blow and the pattern emerged in its own rhythm. It amused Grace that a big, bluff man like Rafferty Jones would meekly take orders from his sister.
Jancy hummed to herself as she tidied up the toiletries. The fire cracked and snapped and the walls gradually receded into a mist. For the first time in a while Grace felt safe as she drifted peacefully amongst her thoughts.
Jancy intruded. ‘Let me get you to bed so you can rest properly, I don’t want you to slide from the chair.’
Clinging to Jancy she travelled a short distance on wobbling legs and sank on to the warm feather bed. The quilt was laid over her.
‘That’s pretty.’
‘I helped my mother make it,’ Jancy said, but from a distance. The woman began to sing in a low melodious voice.
‘You have a deft touch with a hairbrush, and a soothing voice.’
‘Thank you, miss. I used to work as a lady’s maid once, and when Raff weds next month I’ll take to the road and I’ll put myself up at one of them hiring fares. Raff’s woman has already said she doesn’t want me living with them.’
‘Why not?’
‘We dislike each other and every time we meet we spit at each other, like a couple of cats.’
Grace hid a wide yawn inside her palm. ‘I’m so tired.’
‘Then sleep, my dear, and worry no more. Jancy will look after you. Best you doze a while, Miss Ellis, because it’s going to be a busy day with lots of umming-and-arring going on while the men get their deliberations sorted into proper order. I’m going to cook breakfast now and I’ll keep it warm until you’re ready to eat it.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I reckon we’ve figured out the best plan. Raff will tell the truth of what happened, and I will give my account. I may embroider it a little, but from what I hear, LéSayres is a thinking man and a fair one in his dealings. Happen he will recognize the truth in what we say, and believe it.’
‘I think very highly of him,’ Grace murmured, wondering how high she should go. Very highly was not as highly as extremely highly but it sounded more approachable. Her feelings towards him were warmer than admiration; more like lust. It was all of them rolled into one. It was blissful … like love. A heartfelt sigh escaped her. It was love.
‘From what Raff tells me Mr LéSayres seems to feel the same towards you.’
‘Has Raff been watching us then?’
‘Nay, Miss, ’tis gossip that was told to him by Jessie Curtis, the sly minx that she is. Her face says one thing and her tongue turns it into lies.’
‘Mr LéSayres is not in the position to offer me anything except …’ Grace shrugged. ‘Perhaps he will hate me now my face is ruined, and not pursue me with such ardour. He makes me feel as though I should respond and I think of him constantly … crave his attention.’
‘Aye … love is a powerful feeling indeed.’
‘I didn’t say I loved him but he unearths such cravings in me th
at some must surely be indecent.’ A couple of those impure cravings escaped from her mind and strummed her body like fingers playing a melody on the strings of a harp. She squeezed her thighs together and tried not to squirm.
Jancy grinned. ‘The lord created man and he created woman … and he created them different so they fit together cosy and loving, like. There’s no shame in that need for closeness with each other.’
‘What if the man already has a family?’
‘Then the touch of a lover can create a memory to keep you warm on a cold winter’s night. Go to sleep now lest you start to think unpleasant thoughts and wake yourself up.’
An unpleasant thought immediately insinuated into her mind – Brigadier Maximilian Crouch! Would he want her if her virtue was no longer intact?
Yes, for the legacy if nothing else … but how would he know she wasn’t tidy?
She could tell him on their wedding night, though he would probably notice for himself. It would be a delicious revenge on Lady Florence.
He’s a soldier. He has a bad reputation and … he might hurt you!
All the kings horses and all the king’s men, couldn’t put Gracie Ellis together again. Chop! Chop! Chop! she thought, and fear crept into her heart again. She hoped Dominic would come for her soon.
The room darkened when the woman pulled a curtain over a grey dawn intruding through the window.
‘Try and sleep, but call me if you need anything, it will be no trouble,’ Jancy said, before leaving Grace with her own thoughts.
Despite the regular thudding and the domestic noises going on around her, Grace drifted off into sleep.
Twelve
Rafferty Jones was made aware he had company when Dominic touched the barrel of his pistol against the man’s temple and suggested, ‘It would be in your best interest to drop that axe, Mr Jones.’
‘Reckon it might be, at that.’
The man’s muscles twitched with the effort of not making a sudden or rash move and he slowly lowered the axe to the chopping block and took a couple of steps back. Dominic picked it up and threw it into the undergrowth.
