Penny looked sad for a moment. ‘I wish I had,’ she sighed. ‘He may have been an anchor in a storm.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘However, I think I am learning quite well to fend for myself. Don’t you think?’
Andy wiped his forehead with his handkerchief for he firmly believed that Miss Penny would get herself into trouble one of these days, but he was going to make sure that it was not today, not on his watch. What had happened to the vulnerable, quiet Lady Winterbourne, who had sat in Rosie’s kitchen three months ago? He took her by the arm and led her across the street, walking down to the riverbank in search of the Sword Factory. One thing was certain, her intellect was not lacking. Andy looked at her resolute profile. ‘Miss Penny,’ he said sternly. ‘When we reach Oley’s factory, do you think you can lose the brother?’
Penelope stopped short in her tracks and Hannah, who was trailing in their wake almost collided with her. ‘Lose the brother?’ Penelope repeated in consternation. ‘But Andy, he may not sell me a sword if he thinks it is for a woman.’
Andy frowned and looked into her wide, green orb like eyes. ‘I do not see why not. He is a businessman and he will just be interested in making a sale. He will not be too particular who his customers are.’
‘That is just it,’ Penelope retorted. ‘He is an odious man! And I do not trust him. There is no telling what he will do.’
Andy sighed. He was also a man, hopefully not odious. Maybe Miss Penny had not noticed. He did not know whether to be offended or pleased by her comment. He decided on the latter as it showed that Miss Penny had completely accepted him as a confidant. It was worrying, however, for Miss Penny was certainly developing disconcerting views on the subject of men. He decided to ignore the comment and continued.
‘Nevertheless, Miss Penny, one lie may lead to another and then where will you be? If it means so much to you, I will buy the sword for you and pretend it is for me.’
‘Oh will you Andy,’ she replied with relief. ‘I will be ever so grateful.’
‘You must realise though, that buying a sword is like buying a pair of shoes,’ he added. ‘And that you really need to find a one that will suit you. Just indicate to me which one you want and I will do my best.’
Penelope slipped her hand into her reticule, brought out fifty shillings and stuffed it into Andy’s hand with a thankful sigh. He looked at it in disbelief. ‘Fifty shillings! You brought fifty shillings with you to buy a sword!’
Penelope looked worried. ‘Do you not think it is enough?’ she said in dismay.
‘Enough! It is enough to arm a whole regiment. I thought you had no money,’ he exclaimed in astonishment. ‘This is more than a year’s wages to some country folk.’
‘Penelope bit her lip. She knew that, after all, she had paid Nat and Hannah a wage for long enough until Nat had flatly refused it. She still had fifty pounds left after her trip to London and was not in a crisis yet. She was hoping it would tide her over until news came through about her trust, or she could sell her property in Charlotte Square. ‘Hold on to the money, Nat, since I truly do not know how much a good sword will cost and I need to buy a light one.’
‘All right,’ Andy replied.’ ‘But remember when we get there. No brother!’
On reaching the factory, they were unable to locate Robert Oley, but they were lucky enough to meet his father, William, who had managed the business before him. Andy explained to him exactly what he was looking for. He was in need of a lightweight sword, wieldy, flexible and easy to handle. William Oley smiled. ‘You have come to the right place, sir. We produce swords with hollow ground blades, which make them lighter, but they still keep their strength. Would you like me to show you some?’ He led Andy over to a sword collection and Penny and Hannah followed in their wake. Oley selected a sword and handed it to him. Penelope continued down the display looking at the assortment of swords on offer and spotted a fine, highly polished sword that looked just right. ‘What about this one Andy,’ she said, picking it off its stand. Penelope examined it and lovingly smoothed the flat edge of the shining steel. It had the Oley logo of a running horse etched artistically on the blade and was of the finest quality. William Oley walked over. ‘You have good taste Miss. That is one of our lighter swords. You will find no finer.’
‘How much?’ Penelope asked as she gently wielded it through the air.
‘Ah, Miss, well that particular model would be costing you fifteen shillings,’ he replied regretfully. ‘I can find a cheaper one for the gent, but it will be a bit heavier. You see, you are paying for the skill and the crafting there.’
Penelope handed Andy the sword and smiled meaningfully. ‘I think you might like this one.’ Andy took it from her and looked it over. ‘It certainly is light,’ he agreed as he wielded it gently.
Mr. Oley smiled. ‘You will find no other sword as light and flexible. In fact, my son entered a competition as to who could make the most flexible sword. The other craftsmen did not even think he had brought a sword to the competition, until he produced it curled up in a hat. They could not believe it possible. It was so flexible, yet it still held its strength. He won the competition easily, as the others could not produce anything near it.’
‘It is a fine sword Mr. Oley, I will take it,’ Andy replied, as he got a surreptitious nod from Penelope.
Mr. Oley wrapped the sword. ‘I will throw in a scabbard for an extra shilling if you wish. You will not be disappointed with your purchase, but I always inform my customers of my motto.’
‘And what is that?’ Penelope asked absently.
Mr. Oley a religious man looked solemnly into her eyes. 'Draw me not without reason. Put me up not without honour. I advise all my customers to remember those words.’
Penelope felt chastised. ‘Yes, Mr. Oley. We shall remember,’ she whispered gravely.
They left the sword factory and walked back up the bank. Andy collected the Barouche from the Swords Inn and decided that the horses were suitably rested for the return journey. He took the ribbons and as they pulled away, Penelope unwrapped her sword. ‘I shall feel much safer with this as my trusty friend. I now only need someone with whom to practice.’
Hannah frowned. ‘I know nothing about fencing, Miss Penny,’ she said, ‘but I do not think that is the kind of sword you should be practicing with. It looks rather lethal to me. Should you not rather be using a foil or an epee?’
‘I suppose you are right Hannah,’ Penelope sighed. ‘In the absence of one, I shall have to find a long stick, but I do wish I had someone with whom I could spar. Do you know of anyone Andy?’
Andy wrinkled his brow. ‘There is no one around our parts Miss. You need to be looking amongst your own sort for that kind of thing. You have the Duke of Northumberland in the North, but he lives in Alnwick, which is too far away. You have the Earl of Newcastle of course and then there is Croxdale to the South.’
Penelope gave a start. ‘Croxdale did you say! Lord Xavier Lyndhurst! Do you mean that Lord Lyndhurst lives near to Rosie’s?’
Andy turned his head. ‘Well, not exactly near,’ he replied. ‘He lives across the River Wear. It must be at least a half a day’s drive away, but I suppose he is one of the nearest. Why, do you know him, Miss Penny? Maybe you could ask him.’
Penelope was none committal. ‘I have met him,’ she replied. ‘I do not know him that well.’
She should have guessed that he was a neighbour. After all, she had bumped into him when she was travelling south and they were travelling in the same direction. How could she have been so stupid as not to realise it. Hannah interrupted her thoughts. Hannah knew of Lord Lyndhurst as Penelope and recounted her adventures in London.
‘They say he is a handsome devil,’ Hannah supplied, eyeing her mistress curiously. ‘Is that true Miss Penny?’
Penelope felt herself flushing to her roots. ‘I suppose he is, but handsome is as handsome does Hannah, and I am afraid he is just like the rest of them.’
Hannah noticed her mistress’s reaction. Mi
ss Penny knew more than she was saying, but was not giving anything away. Hannah was certain about one thing. Miss Penny was not indifferent to Lord Lyndhurst.
They reached Rosie’s farm in the twilight. In the absence of Nathanial, Penelope stabled the horses herself, brushed them down and fed them. She did miss Nat and was longing for his return from Holland. He would be expected back soon and his return would be shadowed by risk and uncertainty, as she knew the gang would have to undergo the gauntlet of riding officers and excise men. However, Rosie’s smuggling ring seemed to have the free trade down to a fine art and she would have to trust them. She had never partaken in a smuggling run before, but she was determined to play her part and earn her keep.
Penelope entered Rosie’s kitchen to a warm welcome. Rosie had baked a hot fish pie and called for her to sit at the table. She was tired but happy and felt more secure now that she owned a sword, and what is more, she knew a little about how to use it. Let Captain Blackmore try to get the better of her now. She had rid herself of his shackles, but she could not help but think that she was still vulnerable to his revenge.
Chapter 11
When Penelope was not helping Rosie with her daily chores, she was exploring the coastline on one of her Stallions or practising her fencing skills in the barn. However, she was becoming increasingly restless. Rosie was decidedly comfortable, but there was no denying that she worked hard for what she had and she enjoyed precious little in the way of entertainment. Although Penelope was thoroughly disillusioned with her social class, she missed the constant round of assemblies, routs and theatre visits. It was with great joy, therefore, that Penelope accepted the invitation to an evening of entertainment at the Swan Inn in Cleadon. Patricia Roche, the landlady of Irish descent, and who had a decidedly pleasing singing voice, hosted an evening of singing, storytelling and puppet theatre once a month. It was a very popular evening and attended by a great many people from the local community.
Rosie gave Penelope a huge grin. ‘You have not attended one of Pat’s evenings have you? Everyone attends. You may even get an opportunity to meet our local riding officers. They often frequent the Swan in the hope of catching Pat in possession of illegal contraband, but she is far too clever to be caught.’ Very few people knew it, but the illicit brandy rarely entered through the front door of the Swan Inn, but was carried 150 yards through a secret passage from a shop in another street at the rear of the Inn.
On Wednesday evening, Lady Penelope entered the Inn to the huge roar of applause. Pat had just started the entertainment by singing an Old Irish Sea shanty and was introducing a puppeteer by the name of Davy Jolly. He was sitting on a stool and had a large hand puppet on his knee, which he had named Giles. The puppet was dressed in colourful pyjamas with a colourful nightcap to match, and Mr. Jolly used him as a medium through which he told amusing antidotes.
Rosie, Penelope, Hannah and Andy sat at a large table at the side of the room where they met Daniel, Sam and Ashe. Andy called over Lisette, the serving maid, who served them each a glass of the local ale, and then they settled to listen to the entertainment. Penelope surveyed the room and her eyes rested again on Mr. Jolly, who was sitting on a stool and just beginning another antidote, but at that moment the door opened and two riding officers walked in.
Mr. Jolly looked up and gave a loud guffaw. He spoke to the puppet. ‘Well, Giles old fellow, just look who has walked through the door.’
He expertly manipulated the puppet to glance up and threw his voice. ‘Do come in and join us gentlemen,’ Giles chuckled. ‘Off duty are you, or have you just come to snoop and see what you can find?’
The audience all laughed, but the riding officers ignored them and walked up to the tap. The taller of the two, Captain Monaghan gave the landlady a nod. ‘We will have a glass of your best, Pat, the stuff you serve everybody else and not that damn rubbish you pay the tax on.’
Pat pulled a bottle of legal brandy from under the bar and poured them each a glass. ‘Of course you will have the same as everyone else,’ she replied with a charming smile. ‘I do not know what makes you think I have any other. Goodness, you have inspected my cellars often enough.’
Captain Monaghan knocked back the brandy and peered over the bar at Pat’s feet. As he expected, she was wearing the most beautiful pair of extravagant, luxurious French shoes. The heels were higher than usual and they were adorned with studded buckles of imitation diamonds. The material was of a delicate, powder blue and richly embroidered with flowers and hummingbirds in pink and gold. The Captain asked for a refill and perused her face. ‘I do not know Pat,’ he remarked. ‘But someone or something is paying for those remarkable shoes.’ He looked over to his colleague, Lieutenant Bartoft. ‘Do you not think so Lieutenant?’ he asked him, in tones of unconcealed mockery.
The Lieutenant agreed. ‘We will catch you out yet Pat old girl, see if we do not.’
Pat gave a sigh. ‘Ah, you do insist gentlemen, but how many times do I have to tell you that this is a clean house. You will find no illicit drink here, at least not tonight.’ she replied provocatively.
Pat could be confident, for as it was, their stocks were low. They were down to their last barrel and were eagerly anticipating the return of Bart, Mattie and Nat with a replenishment of supplies. The two riding officers with their glasses refilled, walked over to a seat beside the window to observe the evening's entertainment, with the hope that someone might just give something away.
Everyone settled again and Mr. Jolly, looking mischievously over to excise men, continued his act. The puppet became animated and chuckled. ‘Did you hear about the smuggler old Tom Watkins and his nag?’ The puppeteer kept a straight face. ‘No Giles, what about old Tom Watkins and his nag?’
The puppet chortled loudly. ‘Well, when old Tom was loading his horse with brandy barrels, it nuzzled a lid off one of the casks and drank the lot. Old Tom got distracted and the inebriated horse, only half loaded, staggered off home on its own and walked straight into a riding officer.’
Mr. Jolly responded with a grin. ‘It was a good job that the nag was only half loaded, then, or the riding officer would have confiscated the lot.’
‘Ah, it worked out well in the end,’ the puppet laughed. ‘The riding officer was so distracted with his find that he missed the bigger haul going on under his nose down at the beach. The nag escaped and returned home the next day nursing a bad head and hanging it in shame.’ Again, Mr Jolly looked across to the riding officers sitting by the window and laughed. ‘It just shows how bungling these riding officers are,’ he mocked irreverently. The excise men decided to ignore the slight. They were not popular and they were used to hearing jokes at their expense. It still palled somewhat, but they showed the outward appearance of equanimity.
Mr. Jolly pretended to chastise his puppet. ‘Now Giles, that is quite enough, we have two of the worthy gentlemen as honoured company tonight. It would do no good to be upsetting them.’
The puppet appeared to double up in hysteric laughter. ‘Ho Ho Ho, I could be the first puppet to be hung by the king. I would give my right hand to see that.’
Mr. Jolly pretended to be offended. ‘Giles, you can sometimes be very selfish. Your right hand is useless, you know that have to borrow mine and I am quite attached to my hand, thank you very much.’
The audience burst out in raucous laughter and the puppet hung his head in mock shame. ‘I am sorry, Mr. Jolly, but when I am out of my box and enjoying myself, I tend to forget your hand is up my....’
‘Now Giles, language, but you are forgiven,’ Mr. Jolly replied benevolently. ‘Now apologise to those nice gentlemen in the window and say Goodnight.’ The puppeteer and Giles took a bow and said Goodnight, leaving Pat to introduce the next entertainer.
Pat got up to introduce Mr. Finnigen, who was to sing a few songs. He was a local gent, known as fingers Finnigen since he was a keen player of the gittar. The riding officers raised their eyebrows, since Mr. Finnigen was fond of old, smuggling songs and
they knew that he was not averse to taunting the excise men either. He strummed on his gittar and started to sing.
An excise man came knocking
Upon the old inn door
Demanding that the Landlord
Reveal his secret store
He searched the cellars
He searched the yard
To find the secret Vat
When all the time, the liquid gold
Was in the barrel on which he sat.
Captain Monaghan glared at Fingers Finnigen and squirmed. He was indeed sitting on a barrel, which he had examined more than once on previous occasions, but with no success. The company was out to taunt him, but he would have the last laugh. One of these days, they would give themselves away, and when they did, he would be there to catch them.
After Fingers Finnigen had finished singing, there was a lull in the entertainment and Rosie looked across the table at Andy, Sam and Ashe. She glanced across at the riding officers, but they were too far away to hear any of their conversation. Rosie whispered across the table. ‘The lads are due back from Holland any night now. From tomorrow night, we will need to set a lookout.’
‘Aye,’ Andy replied. ‘Depending on the tide, I will take the lantern down to Marsden Rock tomorrow night and look out for their signal. Hopefully the weather will hold and we can guide them in safely.’
Penelope’s eyes widened in excitement. ‘What happens now Rosie?’ she asked in eager anticipation.
Rosie frowned. ‘Well, Miss Penny, once we know that they have arrived we will send out a signal to guide them in. We need to start our preparations tonight and feed Lieutenant Monaghan and Captain Bartoft false information to mislead them. If we can send them on a wild goose chase, it will leave our lads free to come close into shore. We will have a team ready to take out the small boats and make up the land train.’
Andy looked up. ‘We need to prepare ourselves. I will also send out word to the safe houses to get ready to receive the contraband until we can distribute it for sale.’
Lady Winterbourne's Entanglement: A Romantic Regency Adventure Page 11
