‘I have given you my wages.’
‘It is not enough.’
‘How much do you owe?’
‘What you would earn in six months.’
Jenna gasped. ‘You fool. I should leave you to rot in here for asking me to do this.’
‘Four runs and I will be as good as free.’
‘Don’t ask this of me, Silas.’
‘You could dress in your boy’s clothing. No man would look too closely as it will be dark and they will be too busy.’ Jenna looked away from him but he shook her wrist forcing her attention back to him. ‘At the end they will pay you. Just keep your head down so the brim of your hat hides your face. There will be fifty or more men, they will not notice one more.’
‘I am not strong enough.’
‘Maybe not as a tub carrier, but there will be bacca and silks.’
‘I can’t do it. It will be breaking the law.’
‘You would leave me in here? We share the same blood!’
Jenna shook her head. ‘Please, Silas. No,’ she pleaded, dropping her eyes beneath his steady gaze as his demand grew in urgency.
‘You owe me. I rid you of Henry.’ The weight of defeat grew upon her shoulders despite her attempts to resist it. ‘If it was not for me you would not be enjoying your fancy sweetmeats.’
‘That is unfair,’ she retorted, shaking her hand free.
Silas sat back in his chair. ‘If you won’t do it for me, Jenna,’ he said quietly, ‘do it for my children. They are not well and they may not last much longer in here.’
‘That is cruel. To try and persuade me by using your children.’
‘It is the truth. Why do you think I have not brought them out to see you?’
Jenna rubbed her temple to ease the growing pounding in her head. She felt she was losing control of her life with each pressure he placed upon her. She felt sick, as if she were about to fall off a cliff. She tried one last time to deny his request, but she saw it for what it was – a feeble and desperate attempt to grab at something to cling to.
‘Please, Silas, don’t ask this of me,’ she pleaded again.
His voice was firm and unforgiving as he reached for her hand once more. ‘I am asking you, Sister. Take my place and run for me tonight. Save my children’s lives and set me free.’
As surely as if she felt her body thud against the jutted rocks of Porthenys Cove, she knew that her fate was sealed. She reluctantly nodded as she pulled her hand away from his and buried it deep into her skirts.
Under heavy lids, Jack watched Jenna move about the room. It was a habit of hers, he had come to realise, to have the house tidy and in order before she went to bed. Normally she would sing quietly to herself, but not tonight. Her temperament had changed, and it now matched his.
The first few weeks of her stay had been a pleasant surprise. In a short space of time she had managed to brighten the sparse cottage and make it feel like a home. He found himself looking forward to returning at the end of the day and although he told himself it was the thought of a hot meal and a roaring fire that waited for him, in reality he knew that the real reason was to see her again.
When he discovered her listening at the door, he had found it amusing. It was not unusual for servants to listen to their employer’s conversations and later gossip about it with their peers. It was something he may have done if he were in her place and he enjoyed teasing her for eavesdropping. However, time has a way of changing things, and Enoch’s warnings shortly after sowed a seed of doubt that had not existed before. Later her evasive answers to his direct questions allowed his doubts to fester. He was used to spying and watching people as part of his work, and now he found himself watching her, doubting the truth of her words and the reason she insisted he hired her.
True, she had been reluctant to be hired by him at first, even hiding behind her mop, but that had all changed when she learnt of his name. From then on she was insistent that she worked for the money he paid her. Anyone else would have taken the money and run, but not Jenna. She was either the pinnacle of saintliness or after something, and neither reason rested well with him. However, how she came to be hired was not the only thing that now concerned him. The past twenty-four hours had added fuel to his sparks of concern.
For months he had been trying to find out how the smugglers communicated and finally he had discovered how they did it. There was no covert messenger but a simple weathercock, which pointed in the direction of the landing place. It was a valuable piece of information, and one that Captain Henley would like to have, but Jack wanted to learn more and knew that secrecy was needed for his success. He wanted to know who financed the trade, as only by stopping the source of the money to buy goods overseas would the smuggling stop. If Jack disclosed about the weathervane, by tomorrow they would use another method and the runs would continue.
Yesterday, he had noticed the weathercock change position. Keen to test if the information he had been given was true, he had set out towards the cove indicated during the night. Just as he had hoped, he saw the free trader’s lugger arrive and land the cargo at the bay indicated. Hiding cargo out at sea to be collected later was a new and cunning method, and learning of it was another breakthrough. He returned home exuberant, but the feeling did not last long. Upon opening the door he realised he had been followed, and this new discovery concerned him greatly. He had no doubt that the person was Jenna, as a trail of wet footprints led from his own front door, up the wooden stairs to the only other bedroom in the house – hers. Her earlier eavesdropping lost its innocence. The footprints proved she had spied on him again and he was no longer amused by it. Discovering her furtive behaviour hurt him more than he cared to admit and sleep eluded him for the remainder of the night.
Jack threaded his fingers into a steeple, as his elbows rested on the arms of his wooden chair. He continued to watch her as she washed the dishes, his focus on her bottom as it moved with each rub of the plate. A pleasant view for any man, but Jack’s mind was too entrenched in his thoughts to soften towards her.
The news that her late husband, the man she loved enough to risk the wrath of an expectant crowd, had taken part in the trade was unsettling enough, but what he learnt today was far worse and gave her a more sinister motive for being under his roof. His brows pinched together as he remembered the events of the day in each minute detail, while his eyes remained unwavering and followed her every move.
This morning she’d asked him if she could accompany him to Goverek. It was not an unusual request, but this time he found himself questioning her reason for the journey. She told him that she had a friend she wished to visit, yet when questioned further she evaded giving him a name.
When he saw her pack the sweetmeats he had paid for, this friend took on an even greater significance. Disliking the distrustful man he had turned into, he had followed her to the debtors’ prison, waited outside until she emerged with an empty basket. It was only natural for him to pay the keeper to find out who she had visited.
He was surprised to feel a sense of relief when he found out that it was a brother, and not a lover, as he had not been aware of harbouring such concerns. However, when he heard that her brother was called Silas Cartwright, his blood ran cold. He knew the man well, for he was the reason Silas was in there.
So the motive for her insistence to be employed by him was now clear. It was for revenge of some sort. Perhaps, at first, her initial intent was to be hired by anyone, but after learning his name, no one else would do. He had been a conceited fool to think it was him, as a person, she wanted. It appears his wit was not so quick after all. A heavy sadness had settled in his chest, as if he had lost something precious or discovered it held no value after all.
Tonight, they had eaten in silence. The meal was overcooked, as if her mind were on something else. Jack was not hungry but he ate it all the same and made no complaint, although he noticed that she had no appetite tonight either.
She finished washing the dishes. She
looked pale and out of sorts, but he must not let that weaken what he had to do. It was too risky to have her beneath his roof. She listened, she followed, she had connections with smugglers and her brother might seek revenge through her. He had no choice but to tell her to leave.
‘Jenna,’ he said. She didn’t hear him at first and he had to say her name again to break into her thoughts. She turned towards him, a brittle smile on her lips. ‘Join me by the fire. I have something to say.’
Drying her hands she sat down before him. The fire cast a red glow upon her face, the bright candle reflected in her dark, almond shaped eyes. He swallowed, his throat felt dry but he would not look away. He realised that he did not want to dismiss her. Perhaps he would give her one more chance to tell him the truth. He came to the conclusion that he was willing to grab any lifeline she threw in his direction if it meant that his mistrust of her was wrong.
‘How did you find Goverek?’ Jack asked. She looked surprised at the question.
‘Much the same as last time I visited, sir.’
‘And your friend?’ He noticed her gaze drop briefly before lifting again.
‘My friend is well.’
‘Did he like the sweetmeats?’ Her eyes widened. ‘There is no shame in visiting a debtors’ prison, Jenna,’ he continued. ‘We all know someone who has been forced inside.’
She nodded. ‘He did. I told him to save some for his wife and children.’
Jack felt his stomach turn. She was lying to his face. He knew that when he captured Silas on the request of his creditors, his wife and children were not with him. She had left him two weeks before, taking her children with her to seek sanctuary at her parents’ home. Why would Jenna lie about something like that? Was nothing she said truthful?
‘What is your friend’s name?’
She got up to stoke the fire. Jack saw it for what it was – a tactic to buy her time to think.
‘Silas.’
‘His surname?’ There was a pause as she prodded the fire vigorously. ‘You must know his name,’ he pressed.
He saw her hand begin to tremble, yet she said nothing.
‘Smith?’ he suggested.
She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear with the same trembling hand.
‘Bolten?’
‘No.’
‘Or is it Cartwright?’ Jenna stopped poking the fire and straightened. ‘Why did you not tell me you were a Cartwright?’ he asked.
‘I am a Kestle,’ she said, putting down the poker.
‘Why did you not tell me you visited your brother?’
She placed her hand on the mantelshelf in an attempt to still her shaking. She had been caught out; there would be no escape from his questioning.
‘I didn’t want you to know.’
‘That you are related to Silas Cartwright?’
She nodded.
‘I told you I wanted loyalty. I need to trust you.’
‘You can trust me.’
‘Yet you hide the fact that you are related to Cartwright.’
‘Are you going to dismiss me?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Why would you ask me that?’
‘It is what you are thinking.’
‘You know nothing of what I’m thinking,’ he said angrily. He stood up and picked up the poker. Instinctively she ducked her head. Jack frowned as he saw her whole body begin to tremble. He looked at the poker in his hand, then back at her. ‘What sort of man do you take me for?’ he asked in disbelief as he dropped it onto the floor. Shamefaced, she straightened. Seeing the guilty flush on her cheeks the furrows in his brow deepened. ‘What have you done that you think I should beat you?’ he asked.
Jenna looked away.
‘Do I look the sort of man who would beat a woman?’
‘A … a woman cannot always tell …’
He turned her towards him and took her face in his hands to search for the truth in her eyes.
‘What have you done, Jenna?’ he asked earnestly. ‘Why do you fear me?’ Even now he wanted her to be truthful.
She looked upset. How well you pretend to be the injured party, he thought. Her wide eyes, full of pain, were trying to persuade him to change his mind. If he forgave her, how she would laugh when she retold the tale to her brother.
‘I have done nothing,’ she replied solemnly.
‘What do you plan to do?’ he asked. A hesitation, a fearful glance away to look for an escape, he saw it all. She’s thinking of a reply. His eyes dropped to her lips. He must put distance between them, he thought, letting his hands fall from her face and taking a step back. ‘I want you to leave tomorrow. I told you I want loyalty. I cannot continue to employ someone I do not trust.
‘Because I am a Cartwright?’
‘Yes, because you are a Cartwright. Tell your brother that I have found you out.’
‘Is there nothing more I can say to make you change your mind?’ she asked him.
Jack shook his head as he picked up the poker and began to vigorously poke the brightly burning fire. He knew Jenna was watching him. It was as if she had expected her dismissal and now that it had happened she was the calmer of the two.
‘I will leave in the morning at first light, but I want you to know that although I am a Cartwright by birth, I have never stolen anything from you and never would.’
Jack placed the poker down and straightened. He saw the door slowly close behind her and listened to her footsteps as she quietly mounted the stairs. Tomorrow she would be gone and he could begin again with a clear head, free of her. Yet, this type of freedom did not give him a pleasant feeling. It felt like an aching sickness, which sapped his strength and made him want to retch.
Jenna blinked away the tears that were now free to fall in the privacy of her room. She thought she had become hardened to being dismissed as a Cartwright, but Jack’s dismissal hurt more than any other. He was disappointed in her and she could not blame him. She had not been truthful and the fact that her evasiveness had come from years of prejudice against her would make no difference. He saw her as a liar and untrustworthy, which were not desirable characteristics in a housekeeper.
Jenna pulled out the clothing she had worn at Henry’s hanging. She had hoped she would never have to wear them again, but she needed to earn money for Silas’s creditors and doing what Silas had asked of her was her only option now.
She sat alone in her room, listening to Jack as he moved about downstairs. He sounded unsettled, and although she was tempted to go down to him and plead for his forgiveness, she knew she would not. She had begged at Henry’s feet enough; nothing would ever make her beg again. Besides, even if he decided to allow her to stay, the money she earned was still not enough to free Silas and his family.
She heard him retire to his bedroom, but still she waited. For another hour she watched the remnants of her candle burn down until its flame extinguished in a pool of molten wax. Finally, the chime of the clock in the room below sliced into the silence of the night and told her it was time to leave. The men would be gathering, but at least she now knew that Jack would not be amongst them. She wiped away the last of her tears with a trembling hand, took a deep breath and began to unlace her stays.
Chapter Six
Under the cover of darkness, twenty horses followed the track leading towards Porthenys Cove. Their acceptance of the sacking tied around their hooves told Jenna that these horses were experienced and had been used for a smuggling run before. They obediently followed the tail of the one in front, too tired from a hard day’s work on the land to flee the men who led them.
Jenna lay in the coarse grass and listened to their muffled hooves, waiting for the right time so that she would be able to join unnoticed. The men who led them were as quiet as their charges. With their faces painted black they melted into the night like eerie shadows. Realising that her pale skin would single her out, she hastily dug her fingers into the mud and rubbed it on her own face, before lying flat again against the damp grass. The vibra
tion of the ground against her cheek, caused from the horses’ hooves, reminded her of another time when the thief-taker had pulled her out of hiding and put the fear of God into her.
‘Your family have bad blood running through them,’ said a voice in her head, ‘and you will turn out the same if you don’t mind your ways.’ He was right, she thought, as she tasted the mud on her lips. The devil knows his children and he was calling her. She was as bad as Jack believed her to be. He was right to want nothing more to do with her.
A bat screeched above them, unsettling a horse at the front. It was the diversion Jenna needed. Breaking cover, she slipped into line near the back and grabbed a horse’s head collar. Almost immediately the convoy began to move forward again. Head bowed, she effortlessly matched her footfalls with theirs, and unnoticed by the others, she became part of the moving line of shadows heading towards Porthenys Cove.
Silas was right; at least fifty men were gathered in the cove and already at work. Resembling a line of ants, they carried contraband from the shoreline and across the soft sand to the horses as soon as they arrived. Jenna had to admire their organisation. As soon as the first horses reached their destination, the first of the contraband arrived. There was no time wasted, or goods left unsupervised and it appeared that everyone knew what they were doing. In the distance, Jenna could just make out a number of rowing boats huddled together on the water. The jutting rocks provided shelter and calm water for them as they cut the ropes attached to the sinking stones and pulled up the hidden goods.
‘Make sure you are a carrier,’ Silas had told her. ‘They will pay you on the beach where you will have less chance of them finding you out. If you stay with the horses you will not get paid until they drop off the goods at a holding house. There will be candles at the house and dawn will be breaking. They will see your face and know you are not one of them.’
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