A Shocking Delight

by Beverley, Jo

  “Always,” she agreed. “But for the moment this is lovely. Parade me proudly around Church Wyvern as your bride-to-be, and then take me down to the village on the beach. I’ve never been on a beach.”

  “Never been on a beach?”

  “You see all the wonders you have to show me?”

  They retraced their way between the cottage gardens. People were working in some of them, despite it being Sunday. And why not? Surely God approved of wholesome work. They all smiled and called a greeting.

  One gap-toothed man cried out a particularly cheery, “A grand day, sir! Grand!”

  “Everyone seems happy,” Lucy said.

  “Fair weather.”

  A stout young woman called out a similarly cheery greeting as she sat spinning in the sun, healthy, happy children running around her. Then four lads hurtled around a corner in a game, shouting something about the excise men, almost colliding with them.

  “Sorry, cap’n!” one said.

  David clipped him around the head. “Be off to your homes.”

  The boys ran.

  Lucy was startled by the blow, but then realized that the boy had called him “captain.”

  “You could be exposed so easily.”

  “That’s why they have to learn. I want them to be learning other things, too. We need a school, and special help for the brightest ones. I want their world full of things other than smuggling.”

  “My father cares about the children, too. He sponsors many charities that house and educate orphans and show kindness while they do it.”

  “Being a foundling himself.”

  “Yes. He’s particularly keen to provide opportunities for the clever ones to do as well as he has. I think you’ll find you have much in common. That you’ll like each other.”

  He halted to look at her. “You think so? Are you sure he’ll approve of your marrying me?”

  She couldn’t say a wholehearted yes as yet. “Why not?”

  “I’m the Peasant Earl, and possibly a mad one.”

  “If the madness worries him, we’ll tell him the truth.”

  “Will we also tell him I’m Captain Drake?”

  She had to pull a face. “Not if we can help it. But I doubt he’s as pure as new snow. He might understand.”

  “Even if he accepts that, he’ll not like my taking you so far from him.”

  “Stop!” she said. “This argument is pointless. We’re to marry, and whatever reservations my father might have, he’ll come around. He wants me to marry a title. He hopes a grandson will one day be an earl.”

  They were out of sight of others for the moment, so she paused for a kiss.

  “Don’t worry so, my love. All will be perfect.”

  Chapter 36

  The path down to the village of Dragon’s Cove wasn’t as steep as the one up to the Crag, but the mild breeze that had stirred the laundry was brisk here.

  Small whitewashed cottages lined the road and were tucked, as he’d said, up the stream’s valley for protection from a stormy sea. None had much of a garden, but women sat outside in the sun, working and gossiping. A few men dawdled around who surely, like the boys, should have had tasks to do, even on a Sunday.

  Everyone greeted them, but these people, men and women, seemed tougher, perhaps more windblown or even salted, and taciturn. Smugglers every one.

  She smelled the salt along with seaweed and fish, and wasn’t sure whether she liked it.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “That this is not as comfortable a place to live as the other village,” she said.

  “You’re right, but it’s their place. They wouldn’t want to move.”

  They held hands as they walked down to the water’s edge. The dry, pebbly sand slipped and slithered beneath her boots, and again the soles weren’t thick enough. The walking was easier near the water where the sand was damp.

  She shielded her eyes with her hand and looked out to sea. “No navy ship today.”

  “No, she’s moved on.”

  She looked toward the horizon. “That’s not her far out?”

  “You have sharp eyes. That will be a merchant vessel heading toward Portsmouth or perhaps all the way around to London.”

  To the docks in London, which seemed in another world. She was bound to miss it at times, but her life would be here, at the side of the man she loved, working to better the lives of everyone hereabouts.

  Lucy didn’t think she’d make a good teacher, but she could oversee a school, and make sure lessons included the teaching of the skills needed for business. She’d support David in helping those able to progress to practical professions such as medicine and engineering, and to learn all the requirements of the modern world.

  “I have something you’ll like,” he said. “I hope.”

  She cocked her head, smiling. “What?”

  “Come.”

  They climbed back up the beach, surely exerting a whole new set of muscles, and went toward a low tavern. “The George and Dragon,” she read. “Is everything here about dragons?”

  “Why not? It adds a touch of glamour to the ordinary.”

  The inside was certainly ordinary, with a few barrels and simple wooden tables and benches. It was deserted, but he picked up something from a table.

  “A kite!” she said.

  “I remembered it was down here and came last night to find it. It’s not been flown for years. Shall we try it?”

  “Of course! There’s a good wind.”

  “That’s what I thought. It would be even better up outside the Crag, but we don’t want any danger of being carried off.”

  “We’d let go.”

  “Would we?” he asked, and she knew what he meant.

  He carried the kite out and she saw that the design painted on the lozenge shape was again a dragon, with the kite’s tail the dragon’s tail. The colors were faded, however. This was a boyhood toy, and it had been left in the George and Dragon. His true father had been the tavern keeper there, and he’d spent time there, boy and youth. He loved his aunt and uncle as parents, and seemed to feel nothing for his mother, but there’d been a bond of sorts with his father.

  “Do you want to do it?” he asked her. “It’ll be easy in this wind.”

  “I take that as an insult, sir. You do it.”

  He grinned and moved backward, holding the kite up high. As he’d said, the winds caught it immediately and tugged it upward. He had only to let the string out carefully and it soared. In time he trapped the string to hold the kite in place.

  “Come and hold it.”

  So she did, close to him, their hands together controlling the pull as they looked up. The underside was painted with the same dragon picture, a wyvern that tugged against their hold, wanting to soar free.

  As if sharing the thought, he asked, “Release it, or pull it in?”

  “So tempting to let it go, but I want it for our children. I want them to fly it here, on this beach.”

  Together they worked to bring it in, having to struggle against the kite’s desire to fly free.

  “It should be possible to use kites to fly!” she shouted as they were carried forward at one point.

  “It should. They’re a form of sail, aren’t they?”

  When they had it down, tamed and on the ground, she was panting for breath, but laughing. “There’s such amazing power in the world. Steam, water, wind. The future is going to be wondrous once we know how to use it.”

  “The future is going to be wondrous anyway, Lucy Potter.”

  She smiled into his sea blue eyes. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

  They could have kissed, but she was aware of watching eyes all around. Perhaps they were friendly, happy to see the captain with his lady. But all the same, she turned and started to gather up the kite.

  As they carried it back to the tavern, she glanced at the cliff on her left. There were figures up there. With ropes.

  “A competition?” she asked.

&nbs
p; David looked up. “Training for one. Just lads.”

  The figures went down nimbly, kicking off from the cliff now and then. Once down, they went up again, almost as easily as they’d gone down, and pulled the ropes up after them. Training over? It seemed odd, but she’d learn the way of this place in time.

  When they entered the tavern, a short, fat woman greeted them cheerfully. “Heard you had a lady with you, zur.”

  David introduced Lucy to his cousin Rachel Clyst, who then insisted on their sharing a toast in cider.

  Lucy had never had cider. “It’s pleasant. I think I prefer it to beer.”

  “Not harmless, though,” he said, when she considered a second helping. “You need to be able to walk back to the manor.”

  Lucy thought he was joking, but as she walked out she felt a little unsteady. “My, my.”

  “Rachel honored you with the strong stuff.”

  “I am honored. This has been wonderful, hasn’t it? I feel at home already. You will come back to London with me, won’t you, and ask my father’s blessing? Then we can be married as soon as the banns are read. Isn’t that wonderful!”

  She spread her arms and he caught her around the waist. “You, my goddess, are drunk.”

  “Only a little,” she said, smiling at him, “and mostly drunk on love. I’d like to marry here, but I think it has to be in my parish for decency. Nothing too fussy, even though I’m sure my father would prefer pomp.”

  “You have it all planned out?”

  “I’ve given it some thought,” she admitted, with a smile. “In the night. Will your family travel to London for it?”

  “I doubt they can get away at this time of year, but Amelia would enjoy it.”

  “Then we’ll have a celebration back here when we return.”

  “After a honeymoon?”

  “I hadn’t thought about that. No. Or yes, but here.”

  “At Crag Wyvern?” he asked skeptically.

  “Why not? Such wonderful rooms to explore, and we’ll have changes to plan.”

  She looked up at the Crag, which presented its main entrance to them now. “We could knock out the front. The doors and portcullis are useless anyway, and no one would mourn the great hall. If we admit light that way, we won’t need more windows in the outer walls.”

  “If we take away one wall, the whole place might fall down.”

  “Then so be it.” She focused on him. “Do you mind? My father says I sometimes become overenthusiastic about a plan.”

  “Which he never does?”

  “Never. He keeps a cool head about everything but the family. Only my mother’s death pushed him to extremes. I can understand the depth of his loss even better now. The thought of losing you . . .” He seemed troubled so she added, “But we have a long and glorious future.”

  “Certain of that, are you?”

  “Yes. In our glorious new Crag Wyvern. We need to change the name.”

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her onward. “Enough for now.”

  She would have liked to spend the whole day with him, but after an old-fashioned afternoon dinner at the manor he said he had work to do. As earl or smuggler, she wondered, but she didn’t ask.

  “Troubled cows,” he reminded her.

  “No one else can do that?”

  “They may have to be killed. My authority will ease matters.”

  “Are you still the estate manager?”

  “Will you scold me for that, too?” he asked, but he was smiling as he kissed her by the garden gate.

  She smiled back, but said, “You need to shed some roles.”

  “I will, as soon as I can.”

  Lucy watched him go, then indulged in just the sort of pining that she’d thought stupid in heroines. That made her smile, because she had her happy ending already, with her peasant prince.

  * * *

  Lucy’s father pushed close his spyglass, not with any force, but with resolution. There they were, and Wyvern was kissing Lucy shamelessly. Were they only waiting for a license to marry in that church, gleeful at thwarting him? It couldn’t be today, and he’d make sure there’d be no wedding tomorrow.

  He hid his glass and rose to walk the cliff in open view with Forbes. Forbes had made himself known here as a scholar. When they’d met a local man an hour ago he’d introduced his companion as an Oxford colleague, interested in seabirds. That gave an excuse for the spyglass if it was seen.

  Various local people had given them cautious looks, which wasn’t surprising with a smuggling run arranged for tonight. Forbes had confirmed that, so Daniel Potter had told him to send word to Lloyd. Chaos tonight would serve them well, and if Captain Drake was caught, it would be perfect.

  No one seemed hostile, however. Forbes was an amiable man who put people at ease, even made them feel they were friends. It was a gift that made him ideal for this sort of job.

  So they’d stroll the cliffs for a bit longer, watching birds, making notes, drawing diagrams, and passing the time. Then they’d retreat until later. Until the middle of the night, when the smugglers went into action and the village of Church Wyvern would empty of all the able-bodied men and women. He’d make his move then, and carry Lucy away, back to London, where he could keep her safe until her madness had passed.

  * * *

  Lucy returned to the house and sought the privacy of her room. She opened her journal, but was back to hearts and flowers. If her muse was intent on drawing, she’d put it to work. She began planning improvements to Crag Wyvern. If they could remove one wall, perhaps they could have a real garden.

  She worked at it until Amelia came up to say her father had arrived home.

  She found Sir Nathaniel as amiable and solid as she’d expected. How he and Lady Belle had come from the same nest, she couldn’t imagine, but only think of her mother and Aunt Mary. He welcomed her into the family heartily, teasing her about David, but also teasing Henry about a Miss Gladford. Lucy remembered Henry spending quite some time with another family outside church.

  Two newly wed couples living close-by. Children in time, cousins, running wild around the area. They wouldn’t all live in the same house, of course, but they’d be to and fro easily. Her children would scamper the hills with ease, play on the beach, fly kites, and probably take out boats to fish or just for pleasure.

  Lucy had hoped David might return in the evening, but he didn’t. She couldn’t go out in the garden to pine to the stars, for the sky had clouded over and there was even a spit of rain. She resigned herself to a game of speculation. Aunt Miriam, Uncle Nathaniel, and Henry lacked a fierce competitive instinct, but Amelia was rash. When she finally ended up with the highest trump she laughed with pleasure and scooped in the counters in the middle.

  “You do realize,” said her brother, Henry, “that you’ve speculated more than you’ve won. You made a loss.”

  “But I won,” Amelia said cheerfully, “and that counts more than profit.”

  Lucy couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m only imagining what my father would say to such a sentiment.”

  “A hardheaded businessman, I assume,” said Sir Nathaniel and Lucy detected a bit of disapproval.

  She ignored it. “He’s had to be, making his way up from nothing.” She saw they didn’t understand, so she told them his history, which changed their attitudes.

  “A remarkable and hardworking man,” said Aunt Miriam with approval.

  “He is.”

  Even so, Lucy wasn’t sure there would be true harmony between him and the Kerslakes. They were very different people, grown from different roots in different soils, and her father and Charlotte wouldn’t want to spend time here. That was a shame, but she’d be able to visit London a few times a year, which would be enough.

  When she went up to bed, a maid brought her washing water.

  “Anything else you need, miss?”

  Lucy thought the question particularly keen. Did the maid have a swain waiting at the garden gate, even this late?
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br />   “No, thank you.”

  “You sleep well, then, miss.”

  Lucy smiled her thanks and went to the window to dream, but, alas, the clouds had obscured the stars. She couldn’t even pine toward Crag Wyvern, for her view took in only part of the garden and the stables.

  She drew the curtains and prepared for bed. Soon she was snuggled down beneath the quilt made by David’s grandmother, dreaming of her future.

  Chapter 37

  A noise woke her from sleep. In the house?

  No, outside. Was it morning?

  Clearly not.

  A jingle then a thump.

  She slipped out of bed and went to peer around the window curtain. It was still pitch-dark, still no stars—but then she saw a flicker of light that illuminated someone. The light seemed to be from a lantern, but what was the person doing?

  She heard the clop of horses’ hooves and the jingle again. Horses.

  One or more men were taking the horses! She rose to give the alarm, but then she guessed the truth. Of course.

  A moonless night.

  The air of excitement.

  Whispering servants.

  Everyone but she had known that tonight contraband would come ashore.

  She felt irritated that David hadn’t told her, but she put that aside. He’d probably been trying to protect her from worry, the foolish man. Though she was worried now. He’d be Captain Drake tonight, and thus in danger.

  He’s done it many times before.

  He’ll have planned everything carefully.

  He’ll take no unnecessary risks.

  Especially not now, she thought, with their wedding to look forward to.

  It seemed wrong to watch Sir Nathaniel’s horses being led away, but she knew that horses were taken as if by right to help carry the goods. The owners either dared not object or agreed willingly for payment of some of the contraband. Was Uncle Nathaniel out with the smugglers? That seemed unlikely, but perhaps Henry was. Or perhaps the manor played only a passive part.

  She told herself this was all routine here, but she couldn’t help worrying.

  Something could go wrong, and there were cases of peers standing trial. They were tried in the House of Lords, but if convicted, the penalties were the same. She was sure there were other dangers. If the Preventive officer and his men turned up, shots would be fired and in this darkness anyone could be hit. In this darkness, people could fall off cliffs.