by Rebecca King
Harriett gasped. Over Rupert’s shoulder she caught sight of Hugo running toward them. Her gaze locked on him as relief swept through her. Her attention snapped back to Rupert at his next words.
“Let her go,” Rupert warned. “I’m not going to keep asking you. It’s your final chance; let her go or I shoot you.”
“I’ll kill her first.”
“Move!” Rupert shouted.
His sudden outburst made Harriett jerk and she didn’t have a chance to think before the loud retort from Rupert’s gun blasted past her ears. She lunged to the side, landing on the ground with a thud.
She immediately rolled over and watched in horror as the woman looked down at the growing red stain on her arm. Rupert moved to Harriett’s side and squatted down, placing one hand on her shoulder, silently asking her to keep down. They both watched as Mrs Partridge teetered and staggered backward. Her arms windmilled as she teetered on the very edge of the cliff. Wide eyes met Harriett’s for one brief moment as Mrs Partridge’s feet began to slide on the loose rocks. Immediately she dropped to her knees but was unable to stop herself sliding over the edge.
Clawing hands grasped uselessly at the grass in front of her, but she could do little to stop her own weight dragging her down to her death. Spiteful eyes locked onto Harriett who found her ankles gripped cruelly in a relentless hold that dragged her toward the precipice.
Harriett cried out and began to claw the ground. She reached desperate hands out to Rupert, who immediately grasped her arms. Digging his heels into the ground, he used his body weight to stop Harriett’s slide, unfortunately trapping her in a strange tug-of-war.
Hugo didn’t think he would ever forget the sight of Harriett being dragged toward the jagged cliff edge, and certain death.
Harriett could hear the loud crashing of the surf against the rocks far below and began to pray. The pain in her legs was unbearable, and she fought the urge to insist the men let go so she could relieve the ache. The old woman spat epithets as she clawed at Harriet’s legs in an effort to save herself from her watery fate.
Hugo wanted to help hold Harriett, but knew that both men on her arms, and Mrs Partridge on her legs was putting untold strain on Harriett. She could die from the pressure they were putting her body under. Instead he moved beside Rupert, clasping Harriett’s arms and replacing Rupert’s hold. Gritting his teeth, he dug his heels in and tried to ignore the desperate pleading in Harriett’s tearful gaze as she stared at him.
“Shoot her,” Hugo gasped, digging his booted feet into the ground and bracing himself. He winced at Harriet’s cry of pain as she slid downward several more inches.
“Please let me go, Hugo,” she gasped, “it hurts.”
“No, I won’t,” he growled. “I won’t ever let you go.” His teeth began to ache from being clenched so tightly and spots began to appear behind his eyes. With his bottom on the ground, his feet braced, holding the weight of both women, his muscles screamed in protest. He couldn’t let go of them. Heaven only knew how much pain Harriett must be in. Desperation gnawed at him.
He watched as Rupert cocked his gun.
“Don’t shoot her,” Harriett was horrified at the woman being cold bloodedly murdered.
“I can’t let go, or you will go over. If he tries to lift her, she will drag him over the edge. There’s no choice, darling.” Hugo turned to glare at Rupert. “Now!”
But he was too late. Harriett felt the woman’s hands slide off her ankles, then the heavy weight simply vanished. A loud banshee wail was immediately cut off by a dull thud as her body hit the jagged rocks below.
Harriett cried out at the burning in her legs, and was only vaguely aware of Hugo hauling her away from the cliff edge into the safety of his arms.
“Oh, God,” she whispered.
“It’s all right now,” Hugo murmured, clutching her tightly to him and kissing the top of her head over and over again.
“Thanks.” His eyes met and held Rupert’s for several moments before Rupert eased toward the edge to stare down at the bent and twisted body that was Mrs Partridge.
“She was the poisoner,” Harriett whispered. “She bought some buns and insisted I ate one. They taste exactly the same as the apple pie did.”
“Did you eat any?” Hugo stared down at her in horror until Harriett shook her head.
“As soon as I tasted it, I knew she was the one who had tried to kill me, and spat it back out. She went mad, ranting and raving about my being a witch and having no place in the village. She was angry at me for giving her the medicine while she was ill, saying that I needed to know what it was like to be made to eat something vile that you knew was going to kill you.”
“She sounds completely insane to me,” Rupert declared flatly with a shake of his head.
“What do you want to do about the body?” he asked after several moments of silence.
“Send word to the magistrate that we have found her at the bottom of the cliff. We can make out that she fell somehow.”
“Are any of the villagers on the way up?”
Rupert studied the area around them for a moment before shaking his head.
“The wind is blowing out to sea and may have carried the worst of the noise. The farmer up there went out hours ago and hasn’t come back yet, so nobody else has witnessed what has happened.”
“Don’t tell anyone, please?” Harriett pleased, turning desperate eyes from Hugo, to Rupert before turning back to Hugo. “Her husband will be faced with so much scandal, and he probably doesn’t know anything about her behaviour.”
Hugo nodded reluctantly. If he was honest, he wanted the woman’s memory to be blackened. He didn’t want the villagers thinking kindly of such a monster, but clearly the thought of Mr Partridge facing the same censure as her mother, struck a chord in Harriett that couldn’t be ignored.
At that moment, he could deny her nothing, and merely nodded.
“We can tell them that we found her body on the rocks and she must have slipped on the way down to the beach.”
“Won’t the magistrate want to know where the gunshot came from?” she asked, turning to Rupert.
“I winged her, that’s all. I didn’t shoot her through the heart. It was enough to knock her off balance, so there is no shot for anyone to find.”
“They will put any cuts and bruises down to her fall, so don’t worry about it, darling.” Hugo slowly eased her out of his arms and rose to his feet, drawing her up to nestle against him.
“I’ll go and secure the cottage, and get rid of those buns,” Rupert said, striding across the road and heading back toward her cottage, disappearing around the back of the house.
Harriett glanced up at Hugo, and was swamped by a wave of unadulterated relief. His eyes glinted lovingly as he studied her. Together they slowly made her way back to the road that ran around the front of her house.
“But why did Mrs Partridge try to run you over?”
Harriett was about to reply when a gunshot from the back of the house broke the silence. She gasped and felt Hugo jerk beside her.
“Rupert-” Her next words were cut off by the heavy pounding of hooves accompanied by the deep rumbling of carriage wheels. She turned, horrified to see the same two horses pulling the same black carriage that had nearly run her over.
“The carriage,” she warned as Hugo wrenched her backward, toward the hedge.
Everything happened so quickly.
There was no sign of Rupert from behind the cottage. It was unlike him to use another shot for very little reason. Something had just gone horribly wrong.
He didn’t mind for himself, he could deal with almost any situation, but he hated the fact that Harriet was now closely involved with French spies.
The carriage rumbled to a halt and the door nearest to them was flung open.
The man who emerged wasn’t familiar to Harritt, but she recognised Marion seated inside the carriage. She felt Hugo’s hand squeeze hers gently in warning.
�
��Joshua, Marion,” Hugo murmured, aware of a third person who appeared from around the side of her cottage and climbed up beside the coachman, whose features were covered by a cloak and several scarves. Even standing beside the carriage, it was impossible to see any distinguishable features of the man holding the reins.
Harriett gasped at the sight of the thin, wiry man climbing onto the box beside the coachman. He was the same man who had appeared in her garden, looking for Hugo soon after his arrival. She stared at Hugo in horror as she realised that his presence behind her cottage meant one thing.
Rupert must have been shot, and the spy smugglers had just caught up with Hugo!
“Get in,” Joshua growled, waving his pistol toward the open door of the carriage.
Hugo paused, weighing his options. He knew that Rupert had been on watch, and was the only member of the Star Elite in the area, except himself. All the others were either near the the Manor, watching Simon, or at St Issey, watching the spy smugglers. Given that two of the spy smugglers were here, meant that someone was on their way, if not close by. But were they close enough to be able to help? Hugo somehow doubted it, and knew the survival of everyone depended on him and his success in dealing with the situation they were now faced with.
There was very little for it; they had to go.
Nodding his silent agreement to Harriett, he handed her carefully into the carriage and followed her quickly, to avert any plans Joshua had of koshing him on the head.
They had barely taken a seat before Joshua joined them and the carriage lurched into motion.
Hugo hoped Harriett had a good sense of direction because he only had a vague idea of where they were heading. The blinds on the coach had been drawn, blocking out all but a thin sliver of daylight, and encasing them in shadows.
Harriett shivered at the coolness within the coach. With the blinds drawn it was oppressive. She slid closer to Hugo and clasped his hand, reassured when his fingers tightened on hers.
“Well, if it isn’t our esteemed doctor,” Hugo murmured cynically, settling back against the squabs in a seemingly relaxed pose.
“You know I am no doctor,” Joshua snorted, flicking Harriett a look of derision.
Harriett glanced at Hugo, wondering how he could be so calm.
“Of course I do, and I also know that you killed the real Dr Treyanin in order to take his place in the village once Scraggan was arrested. You needed someone in Padstow to meet with your contacts to ensure the French spies came ashore – with their money.”
“My, you have been busy,” Joshua muttered, his lip curling contemptuously. “But I am afraid it won’t save you.”
Hugo sighed loudly. “I am afraid that, again, you are labouring under a misapprehension. You see, we know far more about you and your operation than you realise. What I don’t understand is why didn’t you run Harriett over when you had the chance?”
“We weren’t trying to run her over,” Marion snapped. “She is nothing to us - a mere triviality.”
“I was picking Marion up. She returned to the house for something.”
“But you couldn’t find it, could you?” Hugo’s lips curled in a parody of a smile, his eyes glittering dangerously through the darkness.
Harriett wondered if she had slipped into a strange other world, where nothing made sense and everyone talked in riddles. The heavy weight of Hugo’s hand on hers warned her to keep silent, which she was more than happy to do. She had no idea what was happening, other than they knew Hugo was watching them, and Hugo knew they were the spy smugglers.
“What about Romilla? What did she ever do to you?” Hugo asked, staring at Joshua and trying to understand the man’s logic.
“She was there to service me, nothing more. The stupid woman expected me to provide for her. Phah!” Joshua glared at Harriett as though it was all her fault.
Harriett turned curious eyes on Hugo, but he refused to meet her gaze. He didn’t want her learning of her stepsister’s death in a carriage full of French spies. Although there was no love lost between them, they were still related.
Joshua lifted his gun. “I think a stark warning to your men is in order, to make sure they leave us alone for a while. Our work here is very nearly done.”
“Oh, I am afraid your work here is definitely done. Killing me won’t stop the men from following you. Indeed, unless I am mistaken, my men are already ahead of you.”
Hugo thumped the roof of the carriage. “Stop the coach, Jonah!” he shouted, using Jonathan’s undercover name.
The coach stopped.
Harriett could have cheered at the surprised look that swept over Marion and Joshua’s faces as they realised that the driver wasn’t who they thought he was.
“I am afraid your man on the box has already been dispatched, and is on his way to the Tower. You see, Pierre, my men are nothing if not efficient.”
“Pierre?” Harriett murmured, frowning at Hugo who spat a volley of French across the carriage.
“Pierre Chambard and his mother, Marguerite.” Although the words were addressed to Harriet, Hugo didn’t take his eyes off the people opposite. They were in the middle of his worst nightmare, and he didn’t want anything going wrong that endangered Harriett’s life again.
“They are spy smugglers, but only a very small cog in a very big machine. These people before you are the links between the spies coming in off the ships, and the people who have houses in various Cornish villages, who wait to take the French spies coming into the country to their contacts further inland. Once there, they adopt disguises, new names and false papers. They have, or rather had, connections in very high places. Until now,” Hugo sighed, and rested one booted foot on his knee. He didn’t need to look to know his knife was safely tucked against his ankle.
Although he could shoot Pierre, he knew Marguerite was skilful with a knife. He was aware that she could target Harriett, who was sitting directly opposite her.
“You have done your homework,” Pierre replied, his lips curling in a parody of a smile. “But you don’t know everything.”
“Yet.” Hugo’s voice was cold and hard.
He heard, rather than saw, Pierre cock the gun in his hand in readiness and couldn’t take the risk that he would shoot Harriett. She was already too close to danger and, if was the very last thing he did, he had to make sure she got out of this situation alive.
He also knew that he couldn’t rely on the fact that Jonathan was sitting in the box seat. The horses could have stopped because someone from the Star Elite had overpowered the coachman, and the horses had sensed that they were unguided and merely stopped to munch by the side of the road.
“You will tell us everything you know,” Marguerite snapped. Her demeanour had changed; from the affable woman who had looked after Harriett with such attention only a few days ago, she was now as cold and hard as the man holding the gun beside her.
Hugo merely shook his head. “I am afraid that, on this occasion, it has to be the other way around.”
“Jump!” he snapped suddenly, giving Harriett a hefty shove toward the door.
The sudden yanking open of the door beside them drew Pierre and Marguerite’s attention for a brief moment, and that was all Hugo needed.
Harriett did as she was told and jumped toward the opening, a loud screech from Marguerite echoing in her ears.
Harriett’s feet had no sooner hit the ground than Hugo launched himself across the seat at Pierre. He was heavier and stronger than the Frenchman, and easily twisted the hand holding the gun toward Marguerite. Pierre’s instinctive tightening on the gun inadvertently set it off, with a loud retort that made the horses jerk.
Marguerite immediately slumped forward in her seat, blood pouring from the hole in her head.
Sensing nobody holding them, the horses lunged and the carriage began to move forward.
The heavily garbed man standing beside Harriett swore loudly and took off after the swaying carriage, only just managing to cling on to the rear box sea
t as the carriage careered wildly along the narrow lanes.
Harriett stared around her for a moment, unsure what to do. She was now completely alone. Abandoned by the side of the road. The horses were now galloping, giving her no chance of catching up. Although she couldn’t see where she was, they hadn’t travelled too far from her cottage. Immediately her thoughts turned to a possibly injured Rupert, and she set off in that direction.
Her only consolation was the knowledge that Hugo had another man with him who seemed to be working for him rather than against him. Although, as heavily garbed as he was, it was difficult to tell. Her fear for Hugo was far stronger, far worse than the terror she had felt when Mrs Partridge had tried to drag her over the cliff with her.
She began to pray for Hugo’s safety and, with little choice, turned toward her cottage in the hope that Rupert wasn’t already dead.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Silence settled over the carriage as both men struggled to keep their balance against the wild swinging of the conveyance as it tore through the countryside.
Hugo frowned at the strange thumps coming from the roof and wondered if Jonathan was having problems getting the horses under control. He knew from his associate stopping the carriage as instructed, that the small, wiry Frenchman had been subdued.
Marguerite was slumped forward, wrapped in the arms of death. Her head was twisted toward them, her eyes staring sightlessly at them in a death stare.
Hugo knew the woman’s death would enrage Pierre further, and he had another shot he planned to use on Hugo. The carriage door banged rhythmically against the side of the carriage as it swung open, echoing hollowly around them like imitation gunshots. The hedgerow flashing past was so close that branches occasionally burst into the carriage before being swept back out again. There was no possibility of escape for the time being.
Hugo drew back his fist and landed it squarely in the other man’s face. Immediately blood splattered over the inside of the carriage to join Marguerite’s blood. It was everywhere; over the floor and them. The metallic scent stung his nostrils but Hugo knew that, if he didn’t fight, his blood would join the carnage.
