Amanda Scott

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by Madcap Marchioness


  He chuckled. “If the Frenchies can see this candle from a beach on the other side of the castle, they’ve got mighty fine eyesight, Aunt Hetta. Now what, precisely, did you see?”

  “Lights on the beach where there oughtn’t to be any,” she replied testily. “Oh, if only Adelaide had listened when I begged her to help us. With her directing the others, so much more might have been accomplished.”

  “How many lights?”

  “Three or four. There is no moon, but I saw shadows. The clouds have broken and the reflection of the stars in the water gives light to the beach. I daresay they expected the storm clouds to give them more cover. Oh, do hurry, Joshua. We must waken everyone. I sent my maid to rouse the other maidservants and I tried to waken Adelaide, but of course she would only say she meant to sleep, regardless, and that dreadful woman of hers would not let me enter the room to try to make her listen to me.”

  “Take heart, ma’am, it would take an intrepid Frenchman to breach those defenses. Ah, here you are, Miskin,” he added, turning toward the dressing-room door, upon the threshold of which stood his manservant in hastily donned breeches and shirt, awaiting his instructions. “Her ladyship believes the French have landed on the beach below the castle. Rouse a few of the men and see what there is to see, will you?”

  “Yes, my lord, at once,” replied his man without batting an eyelash. It was, Adriana thought, watching him, as though his master issued such orders daily.

  Chalford turned his attention to his aunt. “There, you see, ma’am, all is in train now. Miskin will rout them in a trice.”

  “A manservant and a few footmen to stand against the French navy, Joshua? You cannot be serious. Fortunately, Martha and the other maids will have begun to rouse the menservants by now.”

  “Well, I cannot help but think you will wish later that you had not acted in so precipitate a manner, ma’am, for I must own that I see little likelihood of your intruders proving to be members of the French navy. I daresay that if they were, you would have noticed more than three or four lights, and I’m quite sure that you would have seen the bulk of more than one ship on the water. You did not mention seeing even one.”

  “Well, no,” she confessed, “though to be sure one cannot see all of the bay from my window. I am persuaded there must be a ship down there somewhere.”

  “Yes, very likely, but not more than one, I’ll wager. Can you not realize what it is you must have seen, ma’am?”

  While she thought the matter over, he took the opportunity to light several more candles, and this time she made no protest. Adriana looked from one to the other in bewilderment.

  When Lady Henrietta spoke at last, her voice was smaller. “Do you truly think that is all it is, Joshua?”

  He nodded. “’Tis a dark night, and whoever landed made it past your entrance booms, which argues an excellent spotsman. The French would not have been so fortunate, or so skillful.”

  “Who would?” Adriana demanded. “What’s a spotsman?”

  Chalford grinned at her, and Lady Henrietta said with a sigh of resignation, “Free traders.”

  “Smugglers!” Adriana’s eyes widened with excitement, and she stared from one to the other. “Right here on your beach?”

  “Our beach,” Chalford said, smiling at her. “I’m nearly certain of it, and ‘spotsman’ is smuggler’s slang for one who can bring a boat in on the darkest night to a precise landfall.”

  His calm manner reminded her of what she had heard about the attitude in Kent toward the “Gentlemen,” as they were called, and she nodded wisely. “I see. Nothing to fear, then.”

  “Nothing at all,” he agreed. “Aunt Henrietta will suffer some joking when it becomes known that she mistook the Gentlemen for Frenchies, but that is all.”

  “All!” Lady Henrietta regarded him with an air of reproach. “That is very easy for you to say. Can you not imagine what odious observations Adelaide will make when she hears of this?”

  Laughing at her, Chalford pulled the bell cord. “Since the servants are up and about, you might as well have a cup of tea to soothe your nerves, ma’am. I mean to have something stronger, myself. Miskin will bring word to us soon enough.”

  They had their refreshment before the fire, which Chalford had poked into flames again, and Miskin entered the room soon after the tea had been served.

  “As you expected, m’lord, no more than a small run in progress. The lads and me thought it best to allow the Gentlemen to get on with their business undisturbed.”

  “Wise of you,” Chalford said. “How many were there?”

  “Thirty or thereabouts. We observed them from the cliff path. The tub lines were still attached to the cutter when we turned back to the castle, but I believe most of the tubs had been hauled ashore. The goods were disappearing into the marsh as quick as the men could carry them, so I doubt there’ll be a sign of life in half an hour.”

  “There, you see, Aunt Hetta, you can go back to bed without fearing further disturbance.”

  She glared at him. “It would serve them right to have the riding officer descend upon them, scaring me as they did.”

  “I’ll wager Mr. Petticrow’s nearer Dymchurch than Hythe tonight,” Chalford said, turning with a smile to add for Adriana’s benefit, “No one knows the riding officer’s habits better than the men he’s trying to catch.”

  “There’s only one officer?”

  “One for each five miles of coastline. Even if the Gentlemen didn’t make it their business to know his schedule, keeping him under observation would be easy enough.”

  “But how can they know before they land where he will be?”

  “Bless you, sweetheart, our local smugglers aren’t seamen. They keep their feet firmly on dry earth. The ships come in from France or Holland, and they don’t sail into harbor without a signal from shore telling them it’s safe to do so.”

  “There are no English ships involved in the smuggling?”

  “Oh, no, a good many of them are English. I just meant the sailors generally stay aboard ship and the landsmen deal with the goods that come ashore. Once they disappear into Romney Marsh, I’d defy any man, alone, to follow them. I told you what a maze it is of roads, dykes, ditches, and hedges, and since it’s impossible to find anyone in Kent or Sussex who will agree to act as riding officer, the men in that position are at a great disadvantage from the outset in knowing so little of the countryside. Our present man is from Berkshire. Even if he did know Kent well, one man would stand no chance against so many.”

  “They would kill him?” Her eyes were rounder yet.

  He shrugged. “That has certainly been known to happen, but it is unlikely nowadays, since the Gentlemen have only to intercept the officer and render him helpless long enough to get the goods to safety. There is no need to kill him.”

  Lady Henrietta said firmly, “I am persuaded that no one could be so degraded as to wish harm to Mr. Petticrow, who has always been all that is kind. Why, when the Payton child in Lydd was injured falling from the roof of his cottage—where he’d no business to be in the first place—it was Mr. Petticrow who rode his horse all the way to Hythe to fetch Dr. Simmons, who knows more than Dr. Bailey in—”

  “Yes, Aunt Hetta, to be sure,” Chalford cut in gently. “Mr. Petticrow is a kind man, as anyone will agree, but if he has made any significant progress against the local Gentlemen, I for one will be surprised to learn of it.”

  Lady Hetta frowned, then said with dignity, “’Tis a very difficult job, Joshua, and he is not, perhaps, a very clever thinker, but he is a vast improvement over that dreadful Mr. Hensby, who preceded him here. Remember how shocked we all were when he ordered a patrol to search the church during Sunday service? The very idea! Marching right up the center aisle, even into our private chapel. Desecration!”

  “The church,” exclaimed Adriana, looking from one to the other. “Surely not!”

  Chalford looked at her, dark eyes atwinkle. “Not very wise of him, certainly. That wa
s Hensby’s last official act, over six months ago. We have had Mr. Petticrow since then. I rather think Hensby was a young man more to be pitied than otherwise.”

  “Joshua, how can you say so?” Lady Henrietta demanded indignantly. “Our very own church!”

  “And the first time within memory, I daresay, that there was nothing in its cellars or belfry that did not belong there,” retorted her nephew. “Really, Aunt Hetta, can you doubt for one moment that someone slipped the information to poor Hensby with the intention of causing just such an incident as that raid? There was nothing his superiors could do once the members of the congregation were roused to fury, as they were, other than to send Hensby packing.” He smiled at Adriana. “Hensby, I might add, was a zealous young officer with a persistent curiosity, who annoyed the Gentlemen much more than does Mr. Petticrow.” He glanced at Lady Henrietta, surprising her in the act of covering a large yawn. “Back to bed for you, ma’am. I daresay there will be no more alarms tonight.”

  “I shall sleep all day tomorrow,” declared Lady Henrietta, getting obediently to her feet and setting her teacup on the side table. “I do not wish to hear what Adelaide will have to say about this uproar.” She left them, adjusting her nightcap and clutching her dressing gown tightly around her thin form.

  Adriana looked up at her husband with a smile. “Will she really?” she asked. “Stay in bed, that is?”

  He chuckled. “She is neither wise enough nor lazy enough to do so. I’ll wager she breaks her fast in the morning room.”

  Morning dawned grimly gray, with large black clouds looming threateningly over the Channel, the waters of which were just as cheerless. Adriana, upon rising, gazed out the bedchamber window in dismay. Her hopes having been raised by starry skies in the middle of the night, she found it annoying to be faced by storm clouds at dawn and informed her husband that Thunderhill’s weather did little to detract from its gothic atmosphere.

  “Content yourself with the knowledge that the weather must be just as bad at Brighton,” he replied lightly.

  “Yes, but all our friends would be there,” she reminded him. “There would be amusements, things to do, and people to talk to.”

  “You will have plenty to do here,” he said. “There are, after all, people and amusements at Thunderhill, too.”

  Surprised by a sudden, sharp surge of anger that threatened to overcome her, Adriana dared not trust her tongue, so without another word she turned her back upon him and hurried to her dressing room, where she found Nancy waiting for her. Before she had finished dressing, however, the door from the long gallery opened without ceremony, and Chalford stood there, his temper apparently unruffled, his attitude seemingly no more than that of a gentleman wishing to escort his wife to breakfast.

  It occurred to Adriana, accustomed as she was to certain nuances of masculine temper, that perhaps he was restraining his annoyance with her out of regard for Nancy’s presence, so once they were alone in the long gallery with the door to the dressing room firmly shut again, she looked at him uncertainly.

  He smiled at her. “Hungry?”

  Her impulsive tongue threatened to betray her again, but she held back the sharp words, aware that she would sound childish if she snapped at him now, particularly when she was not certain why she was angry but had an uncomfortable, gnawing suspicion that it was because her walking out like she had had failed to annoy him. Telling herself firmly that to be married to a man who did not indulge in flights of temper was a vast improvement over what she had known before, she nodded in dignified response to his question, and allowed him to tuck her hand in the crook of his elbow. Thus, they entered the cheerful yellow-and-white breakfast parlor, looking the very picture of connubial content.

  As Chalford had predicted, both aunts were present, sitting opposite each other at the round mahogany table. The silence in the room was nearly palpable, the only sound being the whisper of the middle-aged second footman’s movements as he lifted covers and stirred the contents of one dish after another. At their entrance, he turned from his task to hold Adriana’s chair.

  “Good morning, Lady Adelaide,” she said, sitting.

  “Good morning,” replied that lady with a regal nod. “I trust that Hetta’s nonsense did not undo your rest.”

  “Not at all, ma’am.” She turned to Lady Hetta, who had not looked away from her plate, and said gently, “Good morning. I hope you were also able to get back to sleep.”

  “Oh, yes,” murmured her ladyship, bobbing her head. “Good morning, Joshua dear.”

  “For goodness’ sake, Hetta,” said Lady Adelaide, “stop sulking and sit properly. You’ve made a fool of yourself and been scolded for it, but it is scarcely the first time and I daresay it will not be the last. This cowed attitude of yours is most unbecoming, and I cannot think why you cultivate it. Sit up at once and behave yourself like a proper gentlewoman.”

  “Yes, Adelaide, I beg your pardon,” said Lady Hetta, straightening obediently. “I fear I have the headache a little.”

  “And no wonder, up at all hours as you were, rousing the household to no purpose whatever. You deserve to have the headache. I am sure it is no wonder that we do not all have the headache. It is surely no fault of yours that we do not.”

  “Oh, pray, ma’am, do not scold her anymore,” Adriana begged impulsively. “I am sure a great many people are worried that the French will invade England, and only think if it should really come to pass and Lady Henrietta should chance to be the first to give the alarm. ’Twould be most exciting and heroic.”

  “’Twould be entirely apocryphal,” said Lady Adelaide. “Even the French are not so foolhardy as to attempt to invade England’s shores. Nor are they skillful enough to do the thing properly if they were to attempt it. There is nothing whatever to fear.”

  Lady Henrietta stiffened and her little pointed chin rose determinedly. “We are half again as close to Boulogne, Adelaide, as we are to London, and the harbor at Boulogne, as everyone knows, is where Bonaparte’s flotilla gathers and daily grows larger and more menacing. We watch from our own windows while the Military Canal is being dug at the bottom of our hill, but it is no more than laid out now, across Romney Marsh to Rye. Its length—the dug-out part—can be measured in yards. Pray, what protection do you suppose it will offer us when it cannot possibly be finished for months, even years, to come?”

  “’Twas a foolish notion at best,” replied her sister. “I daresay that children will one day fish in it, and that it will therefore then serve some useful purpose, but as a defense it is laughable, so ’tis fortunate it is not necessary. England still rules the seas, and our coasts are defended perfectly well.”

  “Oh, dear, how can you say so when we have fifty miles of beaches that are well nigh defenseless?”

  Lady Adelaide sniffed. “I do not propose to dignify that foolish question with a response, Hetta. Furthermore, it is not a suitable topic for the breakfast table.” She turned to the footman. “His lordship will wish to have fresh coffee, Amos, and Lady Chalford will have a pot of tea. See to it as soon as you have served them, if you please.”

  “Aye, m’lady.” The footman, who had been serving Chalford, bowed and moved on to attend to Adriana, who had been looking, wide-eyed, from one aunt to the other.

  She recollected herself swiftly and, being very hungry, paid little heed to the conversation between the others until such time as Lady Adelaide said imperiously, “You say, Joshua, that you have invited houseguests to stay. May one ask how many are to be expected and when they may be expected to arrive?”

  “And how long will they stay with us?” asked Lady Henrietta, brightening at this agreeable change of subject. “I think it will be most stimulating to have houseguests.”

  Chalford smiled at her, then turned toward Lady Adelaide. “I cannot answer your questions, ma’am, for I do not know all the answers. The weather must play some part, you know, for it is likely that some of our guests will elect to remain in town until it clears. Otherw
ise, we may expect guests daily, for I told everyone to stand on no ceremony, merely to come if and when they like and to stay as long as they like.”

  “Well, I am sure you have every right to issue such broad invitations, Joshua,” said Lady Adelaide in a tone that belied her words, “but you might have considered how much easier it will be for your servants to prepare for guests if they can be told how many to prepare for and when to expect them.”

  “It cannot matter,” said Chalford. “There is plenty of room, and we have never yet run out of food.” The words were said lightly, but he continued to look steadily at Lady Adelaide, and to Adriana’s surprise she nodded and looked away first.

  “As you say, Joshua.”

  Lady Hetta said suddenly, “You must have been very sorry, my dear Adriana, to have been married without your father by you to give you into Joshua’s keeping, but I daresay that with everything happening so quickly, there was no alternative.”

  “Such haste,” Lady Adelaide interjected before Adriana could reply to this abrupt statement, “as well as the fact that you were married from your brother’s house, Adriana, indicates that you must have been married without banns.”

  Adriana smiled at her. “For that, you must blame my brother, Alston, ma’am. He insisted upon a special license, you see. I daresay,” she added with a smile, “he wished to be rid of me quickly, once he had found someone willing to marry me.”

  “It was I who suggested the special license, sweetheart,” Chalford said. “I am an impatient man, so once I discovered there was no thought of your father’s attending the ceremony, I’m afraid the notion of waiting three whole weeks before being allowed to claim you for my own became intolerable.”

  “Waiting three weeks to get back to Thunderhill is more the case,” Lady Hetta said, chuckling. “We know, for Lydia wrote in her last letter, ages ago, that you had had your fill of London.”

  Adriana, who had glowed at her husband’s words, experienced deflation at Lady Hetta’s. She looked at Chalford now, keenly. “I am sure Alston said he’d decided upon a special license in order that we might be married from the house instead of at the church. ’Twas too public at Saint George’s, he said.”

 

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