by Dilly Court
She fell into a troubled sleep and was up at crack of dawn next morning. She went downstairs in her nightgown and stepped outside in the pearly May morning, walking barefoot across the dew-spangled grass to draw water from the well. Through gaps in the fence she could see the carpet of bluebells in the woods that surrounded the cottage on three sides, and the air was filled with birdsong. It was, she thought, the sort of morning when it felt good to be alive, and with a newly found feeling of optimism she knew that it was up to her to set things right. She could not wait until Daniel returned from London; he was full of good intentions but he would dither and there was no time for that.
She went inside and spent several minutes encouraging the sleepy embers in the grate to burst into flames. She filled the kettle and placed it on the hob before taking a quick wash at the sink. The cold water refreshed and revitalised her and she hurried upstairs to get dressed. Having breakfasted on a slice of bread and butter and a cup of tea she put on her bonnet and shawl, let herself out of the house and set off at a brisk pace. As she neared the avenue of trees leading up to the main house she saw the brougham driving off through the gateway. She came to a halt, bending over to catch her breath. She had planned to tell Daniel of her plans, but it was too late. He was on his way to London to find a bullion dealer, leaving her on her own, and she was suddenly nervous and unsure of herself. Even now, assuming that news had travelled fast and that he had heard about the treasure from one of his cronies at the archaeological excavation, Wilmot might be making arrangements to return to Bligh Park. She dreaded to think what he might do should he get his hands on any of the money, and she broke into a run, heading for the stable block. She found Tapper in the tack room, munching bread and dripping. He rose swiftly to his feet, wiping his lips on his sleeve. ‘Good morning, miss.’
‘Good morning, Mr Tapper. I’m sorry to interrupt your breakfast but I need to go to the village urgently. I wonder if you’d saddle up Nellie for me?’
He gave her a shrewd look. ‘You’ll be going to Ned’s cottage.’
It was a statement and not a question. She nodded. ‘That’s right.’
‘You’ll need more than words to make him talk, miss.’ Tapper’s button-bright eyes twinkled, reminding Charity of a cheeky London sparrow.
‘I take your meaning, Mr Tapper.’
He moved to the back of the tack room and opened a cupboard. She uttered a gasp of surprise when she saw its contents. ‘Where did you get those?’
He lifted out an ingot and handed it to her. ‘They’ve been there for years, miss. No one knows who put them there or why. I’ve used them for all manner of things, but never thought they was of any value. Now I know different and here they’ll stay until the master comes home. You can tell him that when you see him.’
‘I will,’ she said, smiling. ‘Thank you.’
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’ll go and saddle up Nellie. You do your best, miss. We need Master Harry here where he belongs. You tell him that too.’
Charity dismounted outside the cottage where Ned and his family lived. Small children were playing in the tiny garden and in the lane. One of the older boys volunteered to hold Nellie’s bridle and she tipped him a halfpenny, which was all the money she had in her pocket. She knocked on the front door and waited. Eventually it opened and Mrs Loveless stood there with a baby in her arms and a grubby toddler clinging to her skirts. ‘Yes, miss?’
‘Is your husband at home, Mrs Loveless?’
A look of suspicion crossed the woman’s weary features. ‘What d’you want?’
‘Some information, that’s all. I’ll make it worth his while.’
‘Ned.’ Mrs Loveless backed into the living room. ‘There’s a young lady to see you. Says she wants some information.’ She retreated into the house.
Moments later Ned Loveless stood in the doorway. His eyes narrowed when he saw Charity. ‘I told Master Daniel all I know.’
Charity was not going to be intimidated by his surly expression. She stood her ground. ‘I think you might have a little more information to give, Mr Loveless.’ She produced one of the ingots from the leather pouch that Tapper had given her.
He stared at it and burst out laughing. ‘That lump of lead? I got two of those already, miss. Everyone in the village has at least one. Bloody good doorstops they make too.’
‘They’ll make even more than that if they’re cleaned and polished, Mr Loveless. Daniel is on his way to a bullion dealer in London as we speak. These ingots are solid silver and worth a small fortune.’
He scowled at her. ‘You’re pulling my leg. That ain’t silver.’
‘It is. I’m not joking.’
He snatched the ingot from her and began rubbing it with his sleeve. ‘It’s some kind of metal but it can’t be valuable. These things have been knocking around for as long as I can remember. They was here in my grandfather’s time and even before then.’
‘You need to clean them with a mixture of baking soda, warm water and vinegar. I’m sure that your wife will know how to make it.’
He turned his head. ‘Martha, come here.’
His wife joined them with the baby at her breast. ‘Can’t you see I’m busy, you stupid man?’
He repeated what Charity had just told him, but Martha Loveless did not look convinced. ‘It’s a joke. That stuff is worthless. She’s trying to hoodwink you, Ned.’
‘Please just try it,’ Charity said in desperation. ‘Master Daniel has taken some of these to London. He wouldn’t do that if he didn’t believe the ingots were silver bullion.’
‘Bring it in here then, Ned.’ Martha glared at Charity. ‘You stay there. The house ain’t in a fit state for visitors.’
Charity waited on the doorstep for several minutes with the younger Loveless children staring at her, sucking their thumbs, and their older brothers ignoring her presence as they played tag or wrestled on the ground like playful puppies.
Ned reappeared and his expression was deferential. ‘What did you want to know, miss?’
‘What was Master Harry’s destination? I know it was one of the Channel Islands and I’ll pay you to take me there.’
He gave her a calculating look. ‘How many of these is it worth?’
‘I’ll give you one to take me to this island and another if you bring us back safely.’ She knew that she was being reckless with the Bligh fortune but she had seen the greedy look in Ned’s eyes when he realised that the ingots were valuable.
‘It’s a deal.’ Ned spat on his hand and held it out to her.
She shook hands. ‘How soon can you take me?’
‘We’ll have to wait for the tide, but we could go tonight if you’re brave enough to sail in a fishing boat. There ain’t no conveniences for a young lady and it can be a rough crossing, especially when we hit the Alderney Race.’
‘What time will we leave?’
‘Be down at the harbour at midnight. With a favourable wind we’ll get there before nightfall tomorrow, but it could take longer.’
The voyage to Herm was something that Charity would rather forget. She was not, she discovered, a very good sailor, and the sea was choppy. Ned and his eldest son, Joe, went about their duties in silence with the assistance of an old man called Nobby, who chewed tobacco and spat streams of brown juice overboard at regular intervals. The voyage seemed to last for an eternity and Charity made herself as small as possible, huddling in the bows beneath a pile of sacks that stank of fish. She slept eventually in between bouts of nausea, and just when she thought she could bear it no longer she heard Joe’s shout of ‘Land, ho’.
She emerged from her smelly cocoon to peer into the dusk. She could see the dark shapes of the islands rising up out of the moonlit sea, and there was a sudden flurry of action on deck as Ned expertly manoeuvred the vessel alongside the granite harbour wall. She struggled to her feet, clutching the wooden gunwales for support. Ned secured the wheel and made his way towards her. ‘Well, miss. We’re here, and that’s my par
t done.’
‘Only half of it,’ she reminded him quickly. ‘You said you’d wait and take us home.’
‘Aye, I did. We can’t sail until the tide is right anyway. Me and the boys are going to get some sleep.’
‘What about me?’ Charity demanded. ‘I must find Harry.’
Ned shrugged. ‘I just dropped him off here, miss. I dunno where he went next. That’s your problem. As for me, I’m going to the pub to have a few beers before I get my head down.’
Charity could see that she was not going to get any more help from Ned, and she did not want to spend another night on board. ‘All right, but I’ll come with you. This seems to be a very small island. Someone is sure to know where I can find Harry.’
‘Suit yourself, miss. But it ain’t exactly the place for a young person such as you.’
‘Let me worry about that.’ She shook out her skirts and patted her tumbled hair into a semblance of order. ‘I’m ready when you are.’
The pub was in reality a barn belonging to an old farmhouse where the farmer’s wife served beer and cider straight from the barrel. Quarrymen and farmers sat cheek by jowl on wooden forms set around trestle tables. The air was heavy with tobacco smoke and the fumes from oil lamps, which all but masked the pleasant scent of the straw bales piled up against the walls. Heads turned and men stared curiously at the newcomers. The farmer’s wife smiled at Ned but when her eyes rested on Charity she shook her head. ‘This isn’t the place for you, my dear.’ She turned on Ned with a frown puckering her brow. ‘You should take your daughter away from here, mister.’
Ned bridled. ‘She ain’t my daughter. She’s on her own.’
‘No she isn’t.’ A figure rose from the far end of the furthest table. ‘She’s with me.’ Harry strode across the straw-covered floor to take Charity by the arm. He propelled her outside in a none-too gentle manner, leaving Ned staring after them.
Caught by surprise and unable to speak she could only stand and stare at this person who sounded like Harry, but looked like a stranger. Dark stubble covered his chin and above it his face was tanned, as were his bare forearms. His eyes were no longer underlined by bruise-like shadows and he had lost the louche, world-weary look with which she was so familiar. He was leaner, and the workman’s clothes he wore made him appear to have grown in stature. He gave her a shake. ‘What d’you think you’re doing? Why did Ned Loveless bring you here?’
‘I have bad news for you, Harry.’ She wrenched her arm free. ‘Stop glowering at me and I’ll tell you.’
He released her with an apologetic smile. ‘I’m sorry. It was a shock seeing you here.’
‘There’s no easy way to say this, Harry. Your father has passed away and you’re needed at home.’
He was silent for a moment, staring up into the starlit sky as he absorbed the news. ‘If I’d wanted to return to England I’d have done so before now. You know why I can’t go home.’
‘But everything has changed. We’ve found the Bligh Park treasure and you’ll never guess where it was.’ She shivered as a cool breeze wafted off the sea, ruffling her hair and tugging at the salt-stained hem of her skirt.
His stern expression melted into one of concern. ‘You’re cold. We can’t talk here.’
‘I’m not going back to the boat. I don’t want to spend another night sleeping under sacks that reek of dead fish.’
A reluctant smile curved his lips. ‘You were mad to make the journey, but let’s get you into the warmth.’ He took her by the hand and strode off into the darkness of a narrow lane with the beach on one side and fields on the other. As they rounded a bend she saw the welcoming lights from a small terrace of cottages. He opened the door of the first one and ushered her inside. ‘This has been my home for the past couple of months.’
She stepped over the threshold and found herself in a small room lit by the warm glow of a fire in the ingle nook. A cooking pot sat on a metal trivet placed over the burning peat, its contents simmering gently. She glanced round, casting off her bonnet and shawl. ‘You’ve made yourself comfortable. Do you live alone?’
He pulled up one of the only two chairs in the room. ‘Sit down and have something to eat. You must be starving.’
‘I am, but you haven’t answered my question.’
He moved across the floor to a crudely made pine dresser and returned with bowls and spoons. ‘I live here entirely alone, and before you ask, I’ve spent all my time on the island with only a couple of trips to St Peter Port when I needed to purchase necessities.’ He ladled soup into one of the bowls, added a spoon and placed it within her reach on the table. ‘I’m still learning how to cook but this won’t poison you.’ He served a portion for himself and sat down.
‘I wasn’t going to cross-examine you.’ Charity tasted the soup and smiled. ‘This is very good.’
‘There’s no need to be polite. I know it isn’t up to Mrs Diment’s standards or those of Mrs Trevett, but at least it’s edible.’ He gave her a searching look. ‘You’d better start at the beginning and tell me what’s been going on at home, and what’s all this about treasure?’
‘You’re right,’ she said, taking a fishbone from her mouth. ‘This would be lovely without the bones.’
‘Don’t change the subject, Charity. I want to know everything. You can’t turn up out of the blue and tell me I can go home without an explanation.’
‘Don’t you want to come home?’
‘Of course I do. I’ve been supporting myself by labouring in a granite quarry and I haven’t made too bad a job of it, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life holed up in this cottage, away from those I love.’
Her heart seemed to do a somersault inside her breast and she was finding it difficult to breathe. ‘People you love?’
‘I’ve thought about nothing else since I left you. I told myself that I could forget you and that you were better off without me. What woman in her right mind would want to be tied to a compulsive gambler? But forgetting you was probably the hardest part of being exiled even to such a splendid place as this.’
‘Y-you love me?’
‘From the first moment I saw you, but you were an innocent young girl and too good for me.’
‘I can’t believe you would even think that, Harry. You know my history.’
‘I know what happened to you, but that’s not what you are, Charity. Despite the way you’d been forced to exist you were and are an innocent. I chose my way of life.’
‘But I love you too, and I can see that you’ve changed. All you need is a new start.’
‘Put me within a hundred yards of a gaming club and I know I’d be back at the tables in a flash. You say that the Bligh Park fortune has been found, but I doubt if it would take me long to go through it.’ He laid his hand on hers. ‘I couldn’t risk your happiness by going back to my old life. Can you understand that, darling?’
Chapter Twenty-One
THE TERM OF endearment was something that she had longed to hear coming from Harry’s lips, but now it sounded like the death knell to all her hopes and dreams. She wrapped her fingers around his hand and clasped it to her heart. ‘I won’t let you give up so easily, Harry Bligh.’
He smiled wearily. ‘You’re forgetting that I use my mother’s maiden name.’
‘I’m not forgetting a thing. You are Sir Harry Bligh now, and you have a responsibility for all those left who depend on you. Are you really willing to allow Wilmot to take over the estate? If you don’t return he’ll ruin Bligh Park and sell the house in Nevill’s Court to the highest bidder. If you don’t care about your brother and his dreams of becoming an archaeologist, think of Mrs Diment and Mrs Trevett, Jackson and Parkin and Tapper, and the home you grew up in.’
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. The caress was as gentle as the touch of a butterfly’s wings, but then he seemed to regret his romantic action and stood up, helping her to her feet. ‘You must get some sleep. There’s a reasonably comfortable bed upstairs.’ He
made for the door.
‘Where are you going?’
‘I’ll sleep in the barn. This is a tiny island and your reputation would be in shreds if word got round that we’d spent the night in the together.’
‘But that’s ridiculous.’
‘Maybe, but that’s how it is. Don’t worry about me, my love. I’ll have a glass of Mr Ogier’s excellent cider and that will send me straight into the arms of Morpheus.’
‘But you haven’t given me your answer. We’ll have to sail on the morning tide or Ned will go without us.’
‘I need to think this through, Charity. It’s your future I have to consider as well as those of Dan and the servants.’
‘I can look after myself,’ she said stoutly.
He smiled. ‘I don’t doubt it, but you’ve saddled yourself with a pregnant woman and a child.’
‘That’s my problem, not yours,’ she said angrily. ‘I want you to come home for your sake as much as mine, and you don’t have to feel responsible for me.’
‘It’s a responsibility I would be privileged and honoured to accept, but I’m afraid I’d let you down. I have to battle with my own particular demons.’ He walked out into the night, leaving a gust of salt-laden air in his wake.
Charity sat for a long time, staring at the slow-burning peat. The astonishing and wonderful revelation that Harry loved her was tempered by fear that he would refuse to return home. Eventually, overcome by exhaustion, she made her way up the steep staircase to the bedroom and huddled beneath the coverlet, still fully dressed. She fell asleep drugged by the scent of him that lingered on the pillow and in the sheets.
She was awakened by the sound of someone calling her name, and when she realised that she was no longer dreaming and that it was Harry’s voice, she tumbled out of bed, snatched up her boots and raced downstairs. ‘You’ve decided to come with me?’
