The Thief's Daughter

by Victoria Cornwall

  ‘How much are you willing to pay for this alliance?’ she asked as she set the knife down.

  ‘I will set you up in a house, with fine clothes and a monthly allowance. I think we will work well together.’

  Jenna thought of her mother. She would have taken him up on the offer for the money and the life it promised.

  ‘You want me to tease and flirt with the men of your choosing?’

  ‘Yes. I think you have the skill and the beauty to find out a great deal of information that would prove useful to me. You had my nephew eating out of your hand.’

  ‘And in return I will live a pampered life.’

  ‘Indeed. You will live the life of a gentlewoman rather than a poorly paid housekeeper that sleeps with her employer to ensure she keeps her job.’

  ‘I loved him,’ she snapped.

  ‘We all know that a woman like you always has her own agenda.’

  Jenna smiled as she lifted the knife and pointed it at him. ‘You have offered me a life that some would consider, Judge Buller, but I would rather rot in hell than help you to power.’

  Noticing the knife in her hand, Buller stood up. ‘You will regret your decision.’

  ‘I will never regret my decision.’

  ‘What do you have to lose? You have nothing here.’

  ‘I have my dignity.’

  ‘You are a thief’s spawn.’

  ‘My past does not define me. My family does not define me. I am my own person and I will not be tempted away from the path that I think is right. Leave my home. We have nothing more to say.’

  Judge Buller’s arrogance did not falter. ‘You are too intelligent to use that knife against me. If I am hurt or killed, you will be brought before the court. You know what people will think. They will say that a poacher’s widow took her revenge on the judge who sentenced her husband. You will hang for your crime in front of a cheering crowd.’

  Jenna’s hand began to shake. She knew he spoke the truth and that no one would believe her defence.

  ‘Put it down,’ he ordered.

  Reluctantly, Jenna did as she was told.

  ‘I did not expect this,’ said Buller, looking at her with renewed curiosity. ‘I am intrigued by your moral stance. If you hold such high morals, why were you masquerading as a gentlewoman at my table?’

  Jenna’s lips narrowed.

  ‘I see from your face that you are unwilling to tell me. Perhaps I was wrong to investigate you. Perhaps I should have shown more interest in your cousin.’ He began to circle her as he studied her. ‘I made a few enquiries about him, but they came to nothing.’ His eyes turned to slits. ‘Who is this man, Trago?’ he asked.

  Jenna ignored him. Buller grabbed her wrist and shook her, forcing her to look at him. ‘Why were you so interested in my art collection?’ he demanded.

  Jenna’s tone was measured. ‘You will learn nothing from me.’

  He shook her wrist again. ‘Why are you protecting him?’

  He would not let her leave unharmed now, she thought, she knew too much. Let him do his worst, she would rather die than betray Jack.

  ‘Tell me,’ he ordered.

  Defiantly, she looked him in the eye. ‘I have nothing to say.’

  ‘Let us see how long your bravery lasts,’ shouted Buller as he pulled her arm across the table. He pinned it to the wooden surface and picked up her knife in his hand. He placed the blade onto the pale skin of her wrist.

  ‘Tell me who Trago is!’

  ‘Never!’ she screamed back at him.

  Buller, his eyes bulging with menace, his jowls quivering with anger, pulled her arm closer, forcing her further across the table. ‘Tell me or, as God is my witness, I will cut your hand off!’

  Jenna looked him in the eye. ‘Do your worst,’ she replied calmly. ‘You will learn nothing from me.’

  Something moved in the corner of her eye. A hand, holding a musket, appeared from behind the pantry door. Buller saw her eyes widen and sensed they had company. He froze.

  ‘You heard the lady,’ said a man’s voice. ‘She does not want to answer your questions.’ Jack exited the smuggler’s tunnel and stepped into the room. ‘Your smuggling days have come to an end, Buller.’

  Buller’s grip loosened slightly and Jenna pulled her arm free, but her eyes were on Jack. He was here and standing before her. His skin tanned from his travels, his face shadowed with stubble, his body so close she could almost reach out and touch him.

  ‘Jack!’ she whispered.

  ‘I am back, although this was not the welcome I envisaged,’ he replied, not taking his eyes from his intended target. ‘Drop the knife, Buller.’

  Aware that Jack’s musket was poised to shoot him, Buller reluctantly did as he was told and slowly straightened. Jack glanced at Jenna and she wondered what he saw. Was it someone he cared for, or someone he was still disappointed in? His expression told her nothing.

  Buller licked his dry lips. ‘There are men waiting for me outside. All I have to do is shout.’

  ‘They are involved in the smuggling too, Jack,’ Jenna warned. ‘I saw them both on the beach the night I took part.’

  ‘I know they are,’ replied Jack. ‘Don’t worry. Captain Henley will be arriving shortly with some dragoons. You should make such visits more clandestine and find better company to keep. Coming home to find the Blake brothers in my garden was enough to make me realise that Jenna may be in trouble.’

  Jack lifted his musket higher and aimed it firmly at Buller’s chest.

  Buller dared not move. ‘I am just visiting a grieving woman. There is no law against that.’

  ‘A woman whose hand you were trying to cut off.’

  ‘That is only your word against the word of a judge.’

  ‘A woman whose brother you arranged to have killed.’

  ‘You can’t prove anything. My word holds more weight than any witnesses you can muster.’

  ‘You may be right where Silas’s death is concerned. Luck was on your side the day he was beaten, as there are no witnesses willing to condemn you. However, I do have enough evidence to prove that you are no better than the poachers and thieves you sentence to hang.’

  Buller glanced uneasily at the musket in his hand. Jack lifted it higher to the same level as Buller’s head.

  ‘At this very moment your house is being searched. Ten stolen paintings have already been identified by three museum curators who have accompanied me from France and Italy. Your wife is most distressed with all the upheaval, although, despite her tears, she was happy to tell us where you were. “He is visiting a grieving parishioner,” she said, “who lives in the Captain’s Cottage up on the hill.” Your wife was most helpful.’

  ‘Perhaps we can come to some sort of an arrangement.’

  ‘I make no deals with men like you.’

  ‘Everyone can be tempted.’

  ‘Not everyone,’ retorted Jenna.

  Buller lurched towards her. His great bulk knocked her to the floor and he quickly trapped her neck with his arm. He held her against him like a shield, tightening his hold and draining the breath from her.

  ‘Let me go, or I will strangle the life out of her!’ he warned.

  Jenna frantically pulled at his arm to be able to breathe, but like a snake around her neck it only constricted further.

  Jack lowered the musket. ‘Let her go.’

  Buller loosened his hold slightly, allowing Jenna to gasp for air. ‘When I am able to leave, I will let her go,’ he promised.

  Jack was unimpressed. ‘The dragoons are coming and you have nowhere to run.’ He was right. Jenna also heard the rhythmic thunder of horses’ hooves and soldiers’ boots as they approached.

  Buller stood up and edged towards the door, dragging Jenna with him.

  ‘Get me out of here. Now!’ Buller snarled. Shouts and musket fire outside signalled the dragoons’ arrival. A skirmish ensued as Job and Amos attempted to fight back. Growing increasingly desperate, Buller tightened his grip
around Jenna’s neck again, forcing her to claw, wide-eyed at his arm for breath. She saw Jack’s concern and it scared her even more than anything that had gone before.

  ‘Let her breathe and I will show you a means of escape,’ said Jack. Buller’s arm loosened slightly. ‘The tunnel is your only route and will take you to the beach. Let her go now and you will be able to escape faster.’

  Buller considered the offer, his eyes locked with Jack’s. Outside, they could hear Amos shouting profanities as he fought the dragoons. He sounded as if he was doing well, until a single musket fire silenced him. Job Blake burst into the room, shattering the silence within, and immediately set about blocking the door with a sideboard.

  ‘You are losing the battle and time is running out,’ taunted Jack. ‘Let her go, Buller.’

  Buller slipped a pig-sticking knife from his boot and held it against Jenna’s throat. ‘Follow me and I’ll slit her like a pig,’ he said, before pulling Jenna with him into the tunnel below.

  They half fell, half stumbled down the ladder, landing in a painful heap at the bottom. Above Jenna heard Job charging Jack and Jack’s musket firing, but the fight continued telling her the shot must have missed. Buller pulled her to standing and prodded her neck with the cold steel of his knife.

  ‘Remember what I said. I have no qualms about killing you,’ warned Buller, before lowering it, grabbing her hand and dragging her into the darkness of the tunnel ahead.

  Cold, damp rock scraped their elbows and banged their heads as they felt their way towards the beach. Several times Jenna tried to hang back in the hope that Jack was following, but the sound of fighting above still continued as the dragoons tried to knock down the door. The further they travelled, the quieter the sounds of life above ground grew, until only the drip, drip of distant water threading its way through the rock provided the backdrop to the sound of their laboured breaths.

  With no candle to light their way, the tunnel was pitch-black. Jenna would have felt totally alone, as if buried alive, if it was not for the painful grasp she felt on her hand. The solid rock seemed to press down upon them. The air was stale for want of a breeze and the temperature seemed unnaturally warm. Buller paused. He was breathless and his hand had grown wet with perspiration.

  ‘Which way?’ he asked with a tremor in his voice. Jenna could hear his fear and decided to use it to her advantage.

  ‘Let me go first,’ she offered, ‘but I will need both hands to feel my way.’

  ‘I am not a fool. If I let you go you will leave me in this coffin alone.’

  ‘Then hold on to my skirt. I cannot help you if you do not let me go first.’

  She felt him grab the back of her dress before reluctantly releasing her hand.

  ‘Be quick. I want to get out of here,’ he muttered.

  Jenna turned and slowly felt her way. From memory the tunnel would become narrower before it got wider again. She glanced behind her, but the tunnel remained so black she could not even see Buller’s great bulk following her. She moved on slowly, careful not to trip on the uneven ground or catch her forehead on the overhanging rock above.

  A single step in the ground jolted her. It was enough for her to recognise in which part of the tunnel she was in. She recalled that she was only a few steps away from the narrow part of the tunnel, just before the chiselled steps that led down to the sea. Now was the time to make her escape. She took hold of her dress and yanked it hard, ripping it from his hand.

  She followed the tunnel as fast as she could, blindly feeling her way towards the narrow opening. Jenna climbed through and pressed her body into an alcove in the hope he would pass her by. Buller followed her, cursing and shouting, until he banged his head with a sickening thud. His cursing stopped and silence descended. She knew he was out there somewhere in the dark. She could hear his groaning as he tried to rock away the pain.

  Jenna’s sharp hearing pinpointed the sound of Buller’s knife dropping and bouncing on the rock at his feet. His groaning ceased and changed to laboured breathing, which grew more rapid with his mounting panic. He called her name, but she did not answer.

  A minute or two passed, both listening out for each other’s breathing, trying to work out where the other one was. A sound from far away echoed towards them. Jenna lifted her gaze and saw a soft glow of light approaching. Buller saw it too. Someone was following them, but who? Jack or Job Blake? A man’s dark silhouette appeared, his head slightly bowed, his tricorn hat protecting him from the jutting rocks above. The light he carried grew in intensity, almost blinding them.

  Jenna was forced to shield her eyes. She could see Buller clearly now as he straightened to meet the newcomer. Relief swept over her when she saw that it was Jack. Without uttering a word, Jack put down the lantern and lunged for Buller, dragging him towards him by his neck cloth. Buller resisted and they fell against the wall, punching and rolling to gain the advantage, before standing and punching again.

  The tunnel was so narrow that at times their blended silhouettes blocked out all the light from the lantern. Fearing Buller would find his knife and use it on Jack, Jenna retraced her steps. She knelt down and frantically searched the ground. At times their feet came perilously close to treading on her outstretched fingers, whilst their punches flew through the air above her head. Finally she found it in the shadows and stood up, holding it tightly in her hand. She pressed the unforgiving tip in the small of Buller’s back and warned him she had a knife. Buller turned to grab it, but his hand never reached hers. Jack’s fist caught him on the jaw and knocked him to the ground.

  Jack dropped to his knees, tore off Buller’s cravat and began to tie his wrists.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ he asked her as he pulled roughly at the cloth to knot it.

  Jenna shook her head.

  ‘Then grab a candle from my pocket and go to the beach. I will meet you there later.’

  ‘I want to go with you,’ said Jenna, reluctant to leave him.

  ‘Leave,’ he commanded. ‘We will talk later, I promise.’

  She hesitated, afraid that Buller would attempt to fight back when he came round.

  Jack saw her hesitation. ‘The Blake brothers are dead and it is not a pretty sight. I don’t want you to see them.’ Jenna still did not move. ‘Besides, if you do not go for your own safety, then go for mine. Buller knows that you are my weakness and he could use you against me. I need to take him back to the Captain’s Cottage and hand him over to Henley. Then this business will finally be over.’

  Jenna needed no further persuasion. Taking a candle from his pocket, she shared the light from his lantern. Their eyes met above the new flame. His as black as his hair, with a glint of gold reflected in their depths. His beautiful eyes were unreadable.

  ‘Take this knife,’ she said passing it to him. Their fingers briefly touched sending a thrill though her veins. She saw his eyes flicker. What was he thinking? She wished she could read his mind as well as he could read hers. Buller groaned as he began to wake.

  ‘We will talk later,’ he told her. Reluctantly, she turned away and followed the tunnel towards the roar of the sea.

  Enoch entered the small cottage and surveyed the room.

  ‘I see Buller put up quite a struggle before they took him away,’ he remarked, noticing the upturned furniture littering the room.

  ‘Cornered animals usually do,’ replied Jack, righting a chair and preparing to leave.

  ‘I have just come from Buller’s home. It has provided us with more evidence than we could possibly have hoped for.’

  ‘Such as?’ asked Jack.

  Enoch smiled. ‘Buller was fastidious at keeping records. We found a large book where he has logged every aspect of his free trading. He has documented every purchase, every smuggler involved, every payment made. It is a work of art in its own right. If he is not found guilty on the paintings as evidence, he will be found guilty by his own penmanship. It is over, Jack. Your reason for being here has come to an end.’

  �
�It is not over for me, Enoch,’ said Jack, making for the door. ‘I have someone I still need to see.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jenna walked impatiently along the water’s edge where the tide stroked the golden sands of Tudor Cove. When she reached the far end of the beach, she turned and retraced her footprints that were already fast disappearing under the incoming tide. Waiting for Jack to arrive was intolerable and did not become any easier even when the commotion coming from the Captain’s Cottage finally quietened and most of the dragoons had left.

  She couldn’t quite believe that Jack was alive and that he was home. She was desperate to see him again even if it was only to prove that he was not a figment of her imagination.

  She heard the sound of a horse galloping in the distance. Shielding her eyes against the sun, Jenna searched the cliff edge. She expected to see a dragoon departing, but instead a lone rider was heading her way. She guessed from its tack that it was a dragoon’s horse, but she knew with certainty that the rider was Jack.

  Clouds of dry sand rose up behind his horse, until he neared the water’s edge where the sand became firmer. Turning his horse, she watched him gallop towards her, allowing his horse a loose rein so it could stretch its head. He looked in a hurry and Jenna began to fear that someone may have been hurt and needed her help. As they approached he reined it in and the horse slowed. Jack, unwilling to wait until it had halted, jumped from his saddle and ran towards her. Jenna found herself laughing as he scooped her up into his embrace and held her tightly against his body. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into the curve of his neck. She savoured the heat of his skin against her own, a sensation she had been afraid she would never experience again. Slowly he lowered her body, until she felt the sand beneath her feet again. They stood in a silent embrace, their hearts beating in unison within their chests, their breaths shallow and hurried, the warmth of their bodies shared to ward off the chill from the exposed beach. Jenna did not want it to end.

  ‘Have they taken Buller away?’ she asked, fearful Jack would have to leave again.