'That's mighty generous of you, sir, mighty generous. May I enquire the name of my host?'
'Certainly. I am John Steel, and this is my man, Matthew Deane.'
'I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Master Steel, that I am.'
'And you are?'
'Captain Thropton, sir, at your service.'
'Captain eh? Do you have a regiment somewhere nearby, perhaps?'
'No, no, sir, not but what I can't call on the regulars if I needs 'em. I am a riding officer.' This was said in a defensive tone, and the captain's fingers tightened around his cup as if his auditors might try to wrest back the food and drink. However, John merely nodded.
'On the look-out for smugglers, are you? That must be a dangerous business.'
'Well, it can be, sir, of course. But we don't have the problems that I have seen in other parts of the country. In some places the smugglers have grown so bold that they go about their business in broad daylight, in gangs of thirty or more and 'tis woe betide anyone who gets in their way.' He broke off to contemplate this state of affairs, and to hold out his cup for Matthew to refill it. 'But illicit trade does go on in these parts, and you've got to be vigilant, sir, very vigilant.'
'A job for keen eyes,' remarked John, 'and a sharp brain.'
'Aye, sir, that it is.' The captain swallowed the last of his pie and drank his wine, pausing to savour it well before continuing. 'For example, Master Steel, there's a ship out there now, on the horizon – two masted, brigantine rigged and with red sails. 'Tis mighty suspicious, sir, mighty suspicious. Of course, it is illegal now for free traders to be hovering about the coast. I know damn fine she's not a local fishing vessel, yet I've espied that self-same ship too many times in these waters these past few weeks. But I'm watching her. If she makes any attempt to come ashore then I'll be ready for her.' He drained his cup, dusted his fingers and rose to his feet. 'Well, I had best be about my business. Master Steel, I thank you, sir. It has been a long time since I met with such hospitality upon the road. You are going to Sleaton you say?'
'It is on our route.'
'Perhaps you have friends in the area?'
'No, save perhaps Mistress Ellingham, although I do not think she would call it more than an acquaintance.'
A look of understanding came over the captain's features when he heard the wistful note in John's voice.
'Ah, so that's the way the wind blows, is it? Well, you'll be disappointed there, sir, for she's set to marry the lord who lives in yon castle.' He mounted the black with ease. 'Howsomever, I wish you luck, and Godspeed.'
With a final nod he turned and trotted off.
'Time we were on our way too,' remarked John. He caught sign of his servant's face and raised his brows. 'What the devil have I done now to incur your displeasure? Ah, I know – hobnobbing with Excise men. But our fine captain is an upholder of the law, Matthew. Surely that is not a matter for reproach?'
'Your aunt asked me to look after you, sir, and I have no doubt she would not approve of this.'
'Then we will not tell her. Damnation, it's starting to rain. Come on, let's press on to Sleaton with all speed.'
Under the lash of the heavy rain the little village of Sleaton looked deserted as the two riders made their way along the muddy track that passed for the main street. They trotted into the galleried yard of the Three Tuns Inn, calling for a boy to take their horses, then made their way into the taproom, shaking the rain from their hats as they went. The landlord watched their arrival from a window, his excellent memory recalling they had passed this way before. Traders, as he recalled, hurrying away to greet them. Bringing packhorse goods for the Keep. However, he was surprised when he entered the taproom and found himself being addressed by a gentleman who had divested himself of his sodden greatcoat to reveal a dark-blue riding coat that fitted without a crease across his broad shoulders.
The gentleman looked up from straightening his lace ruffles.
'Ah, Master … Fawden, is it? Yes, Fawden. Two of your best rooms, if you please, and a private parlour, if you have such a thing.'
The landlord was momentarily nonplussed. He had thought the fellow a tradesman, straight-talking and to the point. Now his speech was more drawling, his manner foppish. Mayhap he had come into a fortune. He wiped his hands on his apron as he tried to work it out.
'Well, my good fellow, can you accommodate us?'
'I, um. Well, that is…'
'What's the matter man, do you not have any rooms?'
'Aye, sir, we do,' he replied, taking in the elegance of the coat with its silver buttons, the elaborate embroidered waistcoat and the silver-mounted quizzing glass dangling on a ribbon. 'But nothing fit for a fine gentleman like yourself, sir.'
The fine gentleman's blue eyes twinkled.
'Well then, we have a dilemma. We need beds for the night and you can see for yourself that it is not fit weather for travelling. What do you suggest we do?'
The second man, a servant from his dress, stepped up.
'Do you have any rooms, landlord?'
'Well, aye, but – '
'And are they clean?'
The landlord drew himself up, affronted. 'Mistress Fawden is a very particular housekeeper.'
'Then may I suggest you have them made up for us, and my master here can make up his mind as to their suitability.'
'If that's what you want, sir.' The landlord was still doubtful.
'It is,' affirmed the fair-haired gentleman, his good humour unimpaired. 'And supper, too.'
The gentleman was smiling and his servant looked as if he was struggling to suppress a grin. Master Fawden resigned himself to the inevitable.
'Very well, sir. If you would come this way?' He led them across the dark passage to a small room containing a settle, a small square table and two chairs. 'If this will do you for a private parlour, sir, I'll tell the missus to get on with supper now. And your manservant?'
'He will be dining here with me.'
The landlord bowed and hurried away. There had never been gentry staying at the Three Tuns before, but they'd not find fault with the cleanliness of the rooms nor the quality of the food and drink. No, by God, not if he could help it!
'I am sorry, Matty,' said John as their host had departed, 'you might prefer to eat in the kitchen with Fawden and the, er, missus, but I have no wish to dine alone.'
'I would rather wait upon you sir, that we may keep our conversations private.'
'I have no objection to that, Matthew, but you will sit and eat with me, too. Now perhaps you would go and see if you can find a bottle of decent wine in this place?'
Matthew returned shortly with a bottle of claret, which John declared to be very fine indeed.
'Try a glass, Matty: I think it is a good thing our estimable riding officer is not with us.'
'True, I'll wager there was no duty paid on this bottle.'
They drank their wine in silence as the landlord came in to light the fire and announced that supper would be ready in a trice.
'Thank you, Fawden. You may remember that we came this way in the summer, on our way to the Keep.'
'Aye, sir, I've a good memory for faces.'
'As do most good landlords,' murmured John.
'And is that pretty little serving wench still waiting at table?' Matthew asked him.
'You mean Lily? Aye, she still comes in to help out, when we're busy, like. Although she ain't here now. We wasn't expecting anyone tonight, see.'
'I thought she might be married to her beau up at the Keep by now.'
The landlord snorted. 'Beau indeed. There's more chance of my meeting the King than Lily Catrigg becoming 'is wife! It's a fool she is, sir, to think he'll do right by her. We've told her, of course, but she won't listen.'
John reached for the bottle to refill his glass.
'Why does her father not intervene?'
Fawden looked uncomfortable.
'Difficult position he be in, sir, seeing as its one of Lord Warenford'
s men that's taken a fancy to Lily. I'll away to hurry supper along for you, sirs.'
'And I will come and fetch it,' said Matthew, following him out. 'Since you have no maid to wait on us tonight.'
'Well, what now, sir?' asked Matthew when he had cleared away the remains of their meal and returned with glasses and a bottle of brandy from the cellars.
'Why nothing, Matty, unless you wish to take a stroll before bedtime. I fear there is little else to do here.'
'I mean what are your plans now we are here?'
'As to that, Matthew I am not too sure. Our gallant Captain Thropton mentioned a ship which he thinks is a free trader. My own thoughts are that it is French, and in contact with Lord Warenford.'
Matthew gave a low whistle. 'A spy, do you think? Or perhaps preparing to join the Stuart, if he comes south.'
'That is my expectation.'
'Then call in the government troops now, sir!'
'I am loath to do that, Matty. Even if we had proof against Warenford, he has a roomful of swords, each one bearing my brother's mark. That is enough to damn us to eternity if the government thought we were supplying arms to the rebels. No, we must find some way of removing the evidence before we take our suspicions to anyone.'
'Master John, have your wits gone a-begging?' exclaimed Matthew, thrusting a hand through his hair. 'The earl will have a dozen men at least – in fact by now he might have an army of men in the Keep for all we know, and we are but two!'
'You mislike the odds?'
'Aye, that I do, man!' retorted Matthew.
John grinned at this change from respectful servant to boyhood friend.
'Then we must be cunning.'
Matthew regarded him with a look of long suffering.
'Cunning usually means trouble, Master John.'
CHAPTER TEN
The rain eased during the night and was followed by a fine, dry dawn. John left the Three Tuns early, riding towards the beach. As he approached the crest of the small hill that sheltered the village from the coast, the mare whinnied softly and put up her ears.
'You can smell the sea, Dorcas,' murmured John, reaching out to pat her neck. 'Come on, lass, let's stretch your legs before we get down to business.'
He allowed the mare to pick her own way down the rough track that led through the dunes and on to the smooth creamy-yellow sand that ran down to the tumbling waves. He headed away from the flat-sterned sail-boats and nets that littered the northern end of the bay and set Dorcas to a canter southwards, towards the grim outline of Warenford Keep perched upon its rocky promontory.
The tide was receding and the freshly-washed sand was soft and easy under the mare's hooves as she lengthened her stride to a gallop. John allowed Dorcas her head until the black rocks that littered the southern end of the beach became too numerous to negotiate at speed. Then with barely a glance up at the towering castle walls, he turned the mare and headed back towards Sleaton. As he looked for the dirt track to take him back over the ridge he noticed a rough wooden hut nestled amongst the dunes. A fisherman's shack, and before it stood two girls at a rough table, cleaning fish. They stopped chattering to stare at the sight of a gentleman on a big roan horse cantering along the beach. John smiled, raising his hat. He recognised one of the girls was Lily, the maid who had served him on his previous visit, but she gave no sign, merely watching him as he rode past.
Having galloped away the fidgets, Dorcas carried him happily onwards through the lanes until they arrived at the gates of Ellingham Manor. They stood open, and a second glance showed John what he had not noticed on his first visit. That they were too rusted to move. He turned Dorcas into the drive but did not immediately proceed towards the house. The mare threw up her head, listening.
'So you hear it too, do you?' He nodded. 'Someone is singing, away to our right.' He felt a smile welling up. 'And I’d wager I know who it is!'
He pulled Dorcas round and pushed his way between the tangle of bushes and weeds in what had once been a fine park, to emerge after a few moments at a rough cart track, bounded on the far side by a tall, overgrown hedge. Before it stood Miss Ellingham, clad in a serviceable cloak and bonnet, collecting elderberries. She turned at his approach and was surprised into a smile of recognition that was swiftly succeeded by a more measured look.
'Pray continue with your song, Mistress. 'Twas your sweet voice that brought me here.'
She blushed. 'Was I singing? I was not aware of it. I did not think you would come back.'
She met his eyes for a moment and the blush deepened.
'I promised you I would return.' He dismounted and came towards her. 'Here, let me help you. The choicest fruit is always at the top.'
He reached up to pull down a thick branch, heavily laden with plump black berries, and held it while she carefully stripped off the berries and put them in her basket.
'Thank you. My father is particularly fond of elderberry port, and I could not resist coming out while it is fine. These are very late, and most likely this will be the last harvest of the year.' As he reached up to pull down another branch for her she said, 'Are you come to see my brother, sir?'
'No, madam, I came looking for you.'
The words set Katherine's pulse racing. Excitement swirled inside her, but it robbed her of the ability to speak. She could think of nothing to say, and concentrated on her berry-picking. When she did dare to glance up she saw that warm smile was still in his eyes and she quickly lowered her own again. He should not be here. He should not be looking at her in that way, but it was impossible not to feel flattered by it.
'My basket is full,' she said at last. 'Perhaps … perhaps you would care to come back to the house, that my father may add his thanks to mine?'
'That would be delightful, Mistress.' He reached out and took the basket from her, whistling to Dorcas to follow them as they strolled along the dirt track. 'And how is your father?'
'Well, sir. He is always a little better at this time of the year, I believe the warm days and fresh food of the summer do much to improve him.'
He said quietly, 'He was imprisoned after the '15, I understand. Is that the cause of his malady?'
Katherine did not shy away from the subject. It was no secret, after all. But it was difficult to speak of it.
'Yes,' she said at last. 'Eight years in a foul gaol ruined his health.' She looked up. 'I pray you will not mention it to him, sir. He feels his infirmity too dreadfully.'
'You may be sure I will say nothing to overset him, Mistress.'
They had arrived at the Manor and Katherine led the way through the cavernous entrance hall to the small parlour where they found Amos Ellingham sitting beside the fire.
'Well now, Father, we have a visitor. Master Steel is come again to see you, and he has been kind enough to help me pick some elderberries. Look, sir, see how many we have gathered. We shall brew some fine rich wine for you!' She glanced at the two men. 'If you will excuse me, I shall take these to the kitchen, and ask Morwick to bring refreshment.'
John watched in silence as she left them, her cloak and bonnet preventing him from enjoying the sight of her good figure or her thick dark hair. But he remembered it. Oh, how he remembered it! The old man's voice recalled him to his surroundings with a jolt, and no little regret.
'Did you indeed help her gather those berries?' Amos Ellingham fixed his faded eyes upon John's face.
'I came upon Mistress Kate at the hedgerow and yes, I pulled down some of the higher branches for her.'
'Mighty good of you,' said Amos gruffly, 'although she should not be out unattended.' He shot another piercing glance up at the younger man. 'People will think she is no better than a servant.'
'No fear of that, sir. The lady knows what is her due, and in the village, I have heard her mentioned with nothing but respect. You are both highly regarded, sir.'
'Are we, bedamned!' Amos looked as if he would say more but at that moment Katherine returned.
She had discarded the enveloping c
loak and bonnet and came towards him in a rose-green gown that was several seasons old but enhanced the creamy whiteness of her skin. There was a delicate flush upon her cheek and when she met his eyes there was a shy smile in her own. John did not notice that she was accompanied by a stately butler until Amos Ellingham addressed the fellow in hearty tones.
'So what have you found for us, Morwick, is that the claret? I beg you will try it, Master Steel, it is a particular favourite of mine, or if you prefer there is brandy.'
The conversation turned to a discussion of fine wines and Katherine was happy to pick up her embroidery and sit in a corner while her father talked amiably with his unexpected guest. She was surprised to realise how pleased she was that John Steel could engage her father in genuine conversation. He was clearly an educated man, well-read and intelligent, even if his appearance was more foppish than she remembered. So many men were uncomfortable in the presence of her father's infirmity and seemed to believe that a frail body indicated a weak mind and underestimated his intelligence. She felt a stab of disappointment when John rose to take his leave.
'Very sensible man,' remarked Amos, when John had been shown out. 'Dammed if I remember when I met a more pleasant fellow. What do you say, Kate?'
'Yes, Father. He is very pleasant.'
'And not too grand to pass the time of day with a wreck of a man like myself. Now do not protest, Kate, for you know 'tis true, and young Master Steel could be very high in the instep if he chose to be. Related to the Crewes of Durham, he is. No title, but one of the oldest families in the north. No wonder Warenford was keen to befriend him.'
She blinked. 'He was?'
'Aye. Henry told me Warenford was hoping to forge some sort of link with the Crewes through John Steel, but when he saw you had a liking for the fellow he allowed jealousy to get in the way, and was determined to teach him a lesson.'
Katherine flushed, remembering the sword-fight in the great hall of the Keep, her confusion that she should be more concerned for John Steel than her fiancé.
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