Waltz With a Stranger

by Pamela Sherwood

  “I intend to, though I am not wholly sure which course to follow at this moment,” James replied with complete candor. “Nor can I promise that my efforts will bear fruit. It’s possible we may never know the whole truth of how and why Gerald died. But if I should learn anything new, I would not hesitate to inform you of my findings at the earliest opportunity.”

  “I’d appreciate that.” Helena moistened her lips, looking oddly tentative, even vulnerable.

  Almost human, James thought. “I understand what is due to family.”

  Perhaps a week ago, she would have jeered at the very notion that they were family. Now, she gave a jerky nod and rose from her chair. “I should go up and start packing. Durward,” her gaze sought her husband, “perhaps we might leave tomorrow morning?”

  “An excellent idea,” he replied. “Trevenan, Lady Talbot, if you’ll excuse us?”

  “I must say,” Lady Talbot remarked, once the Durwards had left the room, “I never expected to see Helena behave so—reasonably. She was downright conciliatory!”

  “Indeed,” James agreed absently, still bemused by the first civilized conversation he could remember having with Helena in years, if not longer.

  Lady Talbot studied her nephew. “Just what theory did you have, before last night?”

  He gave her a brief account of Gerald’s involvement in Mercer Shipping and Mercer’s repeated attempts to buy back his shares. “As it turned out, he wasn’t responsible for those letters. But I imagine he’ll offer again at some point. I may even accept this time, rather than have to deal with him further. And after Gerald, I expect Mercer’s just as eager to be rid of me.”

  “I’m not surprised to hear their partnership was a disaster,” his aunt observed, with a sigh. “Gerald always had to get the upper hand, even if that meant poking and prying into things that were none of his affair. Mind you, Captain Mercer sounds rather shady himself, so I doubt you’d regret severing ties with him.” She turned to go. “I should see to luncheon. Do you know if Aurelia will be back from Roswarne by then?”

  James shook his head. “She may still be helping Sophie. Personally, I wouldn’t expect her before dinner, at the earliest.”

  “Luncheon for nine, I suppose. I’ll see you then, my dear.”

  Alone, James leaned back in his chair, frowning to himself. The matter of the letters resolved, his feud with Helena settled…he should feel relieved, calm. But thoughts of Gerald, and all the questions that remained unanswered, circled like a flock of restless birds overhead.

  His aunt’s words lingered in his mind, teasing his memory.

  Always had to get the upper hand.

  Poking and prying into things that were none of his affair.

  Prying into things…

  James sat bolt upright, his mind racing. Then he sprang from his chair and strode from the library, making for the stairs and his cousin’s room.

  ***

  “Nearly there!” Sophie called back over her shoulder with a forced brightness that made Aurelia’s heart ache in sympathy for her.

  Sir Lucas Nankivell had a lot to answer for, she thought darkly. The only good thing was that Sophie hadn’t been in love with him, after all. But while Mr. Pendarvis might be a far worthier man than the baronet, his pride and secrecy were creating problems of their own.

  Sophie had arisen that morning, still pale and heavy-eyed from tears the previous night, but determined to act as though nothing was wrong. As though the man she had cared for hadn’t walked away, leaving her heart in pieces on the ground. As though she wasn’t secretly waiting for a knock on the door or the arrival of a letter that would somehow put everything right. Aurelia recognized the signs all too well; hadn’t she done the same after Charlie left her? It had taken years to get over her own first love; she hoped Sophie’s romance would end more happily.

  After watching the hope continually flare and fade in her friend’s eyes with each passing hour, Aurelia had proposed this expedition to the caves at St. Perran as a distraction. Sophie had seized upon the notion at once, and within half an hour, they’d donned riding gear—Aurelia borrowing a habit from Lady Tresilian—and set out for the shore on a pair of dependable hacks.

  The sea came in sight, a changeable blue-grey in the afternoon sun, and they urged their horses into a trot, reining in only after they’d reached their destination and heard the soft crunch of sand beneath their horses’ hooves. Sophie dismounted with the fluid ease of a born horsewoman. Aurelia alighted more slowly, but with a confidence she’d thought never to regain. She caught Sophie’s eye, and the girl smiled without constraint for the first time that day.

  “The caves are down that way,” she announced. “And fortunately for us, the tide is out. Where shall we start?”

  “Wasn’t there a cave Sir Harry and James used to play in, when they were boys?”

  Sophie shrugged. “They were in and out of all of them, but I think I know which one you mean. Follow me.”

  Leaving the horses to recover their wind, they made their way along the sand toward the great rocks, hollowed out by the sea. Sophie paused before a cave with an opening that reminded Aurelia of a mouthful of jagged teeth. “This may be it. I don’t know these caves quite as well as Harry and James,” she added apologetically, and ducked inside.

  Aurelia followed, stepping into the cave’s cool depths. The sand, pale gold in the sun, gleamed bone-white in the shadows, and the brackish but not unpleasant smells of sea-washed stone and beached kelp enveloped them. Peering into the gloom, she wondered how many centuries it had taken for the relentless tide to carve out such a deep recess in solid rock.

  Sophie lit one of the thick candles they’d brought and shone its beam over the ridges and grooves of the cave’s walls. “Look, there’s the hole where James used to hide things!”

  Charmed, Aurelia came closer and saw a small hollow worn into the stone, just about at eye level. “He did say above the water line,” she murmured, smiling as she envisioned a boy reaching up to tuck his treasures out of sight. Nothing there now but a battered tin cup, black with tarnish. Still, she was glad that his nasty cousin had apparently never found his hiding place.

  “It’s not the deepest one here,” Sophie said, illuminating the back of the cave with her candle. “There’s another a bit farther down—Echo Cavern, it’s called. We used to go in and make all kinds of noises at the echo—clap, sing, shout silly words. Harry thinks it used to be a true smugglers’ cave, one that connected with the tunnels they used to hide contraband.”

  “A smuggler’s cave? Then we absolutely must go there next,” Aurelia declared. No doubt any contraband stored there had been retrieved long ago by the free traders or the excisemen—or less romantically, rotted away in the damp and darkness. But it was the adventure that counted.

  Sophie actually laughed, a sound of genuine amusement, then led the way out of the first cave and down to the famous Echo Cavern.

  A much larger cave, Aurelia observed, perhaps because the rock protruded much further onto the beach. And deeper too. She lit her own candle before entering in her friend’s wake.

  Sophie lifted her hand to her mouth. “Hullooo!” she called into the cave.

  Ullooo—ullooo—ullooo, the echo resounded back at them.

  “Impressive,” Aurelia said, keeping her own voice low. “But maybe a little eerie.”

  “Before I was old enough to know better, Harry and John told me it was a ghost living in the cavern, who made that noise. Aren’t brothers horrid?” Sophie lifted her candle and pointed down the rough stone passage. “See how much further back this goes? You’d think it would get narrower, but it opens up into a much wider space. Harry thinks the smugglers used charges to blast a bigger opening.”

  “Those tunnels you mentioned?” Aurelia asked, raising her own candle.

  “Exactly. I haven’t been down this far in years,” Sophie continued as they ventured further along the passage. “I do hope nothing’s collapsed after all this time.
”

  Luck seemed to be holding, however, and the passage did indeed open up into a larger, wider space—almost a chamber, Aurelia thought, gazing about in astonishment.

  A large mass at the far end of the chamber caught her eye. Frowning, she stepped forward, shone her candle over it. “Sophie, are you sure no one’s been using these tunnels?”

  The girl’s candle joined her own at once. “Good heavens, what is that?”

  “It looks like a tarpaulin—with something underneath.”

  Exchanging a glance, they crept toward the mysterious mass.

  “It is a tarpaulin,” Sophie said, gingerly taking up a fold of dirty canvas. Aurelia did likewise, and they pulled back the tarpaulin, dropped it on the sand—and stared in shock at their discovery. Six wooden crates, stamped with the words “Mercer Shipping.”

  Sophie caught her breath. “Aurelia, is that—?”

  “The rest of the missing cargo,” Aurelia finished for her. “Yes, I believe it is.” She stepped back from the crates, made herself speak calmly. “Sophie, would you ride back to Roswarne and fetch Sir Harry? Tell him what we’ve found, and tell him to bring a wagon.”

  ***

  Some fifteen minutes later, Aurelia looked up from her vigil over the crates as the sound of horse’s hooves outside the cave reached her ears.

  So soon? Even if Sophie had reached Roswarne by now, Sir Harry would have needed time to ready a wagon. Frowning, she reached for one of the candles. “Who’s there?” she called, and tried not to shiver as the echo tossed her question back to her: Who’s there—there—there?

  “Aurelia?” Unbelievably, it sounded like James’s voice.

  Relia—Relia—Relia, the echo mocked.

  “I’m in here, James! I’ve found the cargo,” she added, wishing it were possible to silence an echo.

  She heard him break into a run, his footsteps preternaturally loud in the passage. Within seconds, he emerged into the chamber, his gaze lighting at once upon the crates.

  “Good God.” It sounded almost reverent.

  He was carrying a lantern, she noticed, and a crowbar. “You knew?”

  “I had a suspicion.” He walked over to the crates, set down the lantern. “Something Aunt Judith said, about Gerald prying into things that weren’t his business. I remembered how he was always trying to find out my secret hiding places. And then I wondered if he’d managed to discover the biggest secret hiding place of all. Once I took another look at those maps in his room, I was almost sure of it. They were all of roughly the same area of the coast, and Echo Cavern appears on every one.” He picked up the crowbar and set to work on the nearest crate. “I’ve got to hand it to Gerald—I’d never have imagined he’d go to such trouble to hide these.”

  She picked up the lantern and held it for him. “How did he learn about this place?”

  “My guess is Simon Pendarvis told him. His family was up to its ears in the free trade. They may even have built these tunnels.” James eyed her speculatively over the lid of the crate. “Now, how did you end up in the thick of this, and why am I not more surprised?”

  “It was pure coincidence,” she pointed out with dignity. “Sophie and I just happened to be exploring these caves today. I sent her to fetch Sir Harry, as she can ride much faster, while I kept watch on the cargo.”

  “Good thinking,” he approved, resuming his labors.

  “And this is the tea? Do you suppose it’s still good after six months in a cave?”

  “We’ll find out soon enough.” The lid came loose at last, and he lifted it away.

  Together they peered into the crate, filled almost to the brim with what looked like black wood shavings. Tea leaves, Aurelia thought, stifling an absurd pang of disappointment. Well, what had she been expecting? Jewels, state secrets, or stolen antiquities like the Elgin Marbles? “At least there’s still some aroma left,” she remarked.

  “Mm.” James thrust his hand deep into the tea leaves, felt around…and then frowned, lifting out what looked like a ball of dried leaves, tied with twine. “There’s something wrapped up in this,” he said, taking out a pocketknife and cutting the twine.

  The leaves fell away to reveal a small brownish cake, about the size of a silver dollar. James took a cautious sniff, then held out the cake to Aurelia, who did the same: the pungent, sickly-sweet odor caught at her throat, but was oddly familiar. Memories of her accident drifted into her mind: splints, bandages, the cloying smell of laudanum…

  She looked up, startled. “Opium!” Congress had levied a heavy import tax on opium and morphine just last year, she remembered.

  James gave a grim nod. “Raw opium, smuggled in among the tea leaves. I’ll wager the crates are full of these little balls.”

  “Clever of you to figure it out,” a new voice observed. “Now step away from my cargo.”

  They turned sharply to find that Captain Mercer had entered the chamber behind them. In his hand was a revolver, aimed at James’s heart.

  Thirty

  Thou art my life, my love, my heart,

  The very eyes of me:

  And hast command of every part

  To live and die for thee.

  —Robert Herrick, “To Anthea,

  Who May Command Him Anything”

  Gun drawn and at the ready, Mercer advanced into the chamber, his gaze intent on the crates. “I knew these had to be here, somewhere, when they weren’t found with everything else.”

  “And now we know why they weren’t.” James matched the captain’s coolness. “Gerald learned your secret, didn’t he? That’s why he stole the shipment.”

  Mercer’s lips thinned, and his eyes—the coldest grey eyes Aurelia had ever seen—went even colder. “Some fool dropped one of the crates while unloading—it broke open right in front of him. Once your cousin knew about my operation, he wanted in on it.”

  “Along with a bigger cut of the profits.”

  Mercer’s face hardened. “Half the business. My business.”

  “Gerald always was greedy,” James observed, his tone almost conversational. “I suppose he stole the cargo when you refused his terms?”

  The captain gave a curt nod. “He also said that unless I gave him what he wanted, he’d turn me in to the law.” His hand tightened around the revolver. “I wasn’t going to allow that.”

  “Which is why you killed him,” James stated flatly.

  Aurelia bit back a gasp, not sure whether she was reacting to the accusation or James’s almost matter-of-fact tone.

  Mercer ignored her. “He had an accident. Which he brought on himself, I might add.”

  James’s eyes narrowed, though he still sounded eerily calm. “So, you were there, then—that night on the cliffs.”

  “His idea of a meeting place,” Mercer confirmed, his face darkening at the memory. “He stood there, boasting of his own cleverness, convinced he had me right where he wanted. He said I’d never find my cargo without his help. That it could be right under my nose, and I’d never know it. Obnoxious little toad.” He shrugged. “I hit him, of course. He went right over—too bad for him he was standing so close to the edge.”

  Aurelia glanced at James, saw his mouth tighten at this casual admission. Mercer might not have murdered Gerald, but he’d been directly responsible for his death all the same. “Too bad for you as well,” he said. “Gerald died without telling you where he’d hidden the cargo.”

  “That’s not a problem now.” Mercer’s gaze rested on the crates. “I’d wondered this morning if Gerald had thought to use these caves. When I saw you turn up with your crowbar, I was almost sure of it. You and Miss Newbold have done an admirable job of finding my cargo. Pity it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.”

  Aurelia saw the gun swing toward her like a deadly little eye, and wondered why she wasn’t more terrified. They’d sealed their fate the moment they discovered Mercer’s secret. They weren’t leaving Echo Cavern alive if he had anything to say about it. But Sir Harry was on his way, s
he remembered. If they could just stall long enough…

  James stepped in front of her. “Let her go, Mercer. She has nothing to do with this.”

  “She knows what’s in those crates.” The captain’s voice was implacable. “But if you have some chivalrous wish to die before her—” Again he aimed the gun at James’s heart.

  “Wait!” Aurelia burst out. “It doesn’t have to be like this, Captain,” she said, attempting a winning smile. “You don’t have to shoot anyone. Trevenan’s not like his cousin—he won’t say anything, will you, my lord? I’m sure it’s no one’s business what you carry aboard your own ships,” she prattled on, even as her ears strained for the sound of hooves.

  James was staring at her in wonder and—she hoped—understanding, but Mercer regarded her with amused contempt. “An unusual opinion, coming from Adam Newbold’s daughter.”

  Aurelia shrugged. “Oh, I never pay any mind to Papa’s business!” She made it sound like a disease. “But since you’ve mentioned him, I know he’d pay a great deal to have his daughter and his future son-in-law back safe and sound. Why, he’d probably pay much more than whatever you could get from all that!” she added, with an airy gesture toward the crates.

  The mention of money actually got Mercer’s attention; at least, she thought she saw a faint flicker of interest in those cold eyes. “Would he indeed?”

  She nodded, and felt her scalp prickle as a faint jingle from outside the cave reached her ears. Sir Harry, coming with his wagon? “Of course he would!”

  “Aurelia, hold your tongue!” James snapped in a louder, angrier voice than was necessary. Had he heard it too? “Mercer’s not going to let us go!”

  Following his lead, Aurelia raised her own voice, letting the echo carry their warning to whoever might be in earshot. “He might, once he sees what valuable hostages we’d make!”

  Footsteps sounded at the mouth of the cave, and Mercer spun around, aiming his gun toward the tunnel entrance. James sprang forward, tackling the captain head-on. They fell to the ground in a tangle of thrashing limbs, grunting and swearing as they fought for the gun.