by Jane Jackson
‘I went to see that man.’ Morwenna’s eyes narrowed and her mouth pursed. ‘Mr Devlin Varcoe.’
Tamara caught her breath. ‘ Mama, I asked you not to –’
‘Someone has to sort out this mess if we’re not to be the talk of the village. And I won’t have it. Do you hear? Your father and I have a position to uphold. I will not have our name dragged through the mud and sniggered over. I won’t!’
Anxious at the deepening colour suffusing her mother’s face, Tamara started to rise.
‘You stay where you are, miss,’ Morwenna snapped. ‘I haven’t finished.’ She wiped her nose. ‘I had every right to speak to him. But I could have spared myself the trouble. He is the rudest, most disobliging man it has ever been my misfortune to meet. And if I never see him again it will be too soon. He had the effrontery to ask why I had come, not you. Do you know what he said?’ Spittle flecked her lips and her chest heaved with indignation. ‘He said he won’t be bullied and cannot be bought. Can you believe that? How he had the nerve – Never, never have I been so mortified.’ She buried her face in her hands.
Tamara closed her eyes, her heart sinking like a stone as she pictured her mother haranguing Devlin. For the man who had so easily rejected her shy declaration of love, her mother’s shrill demands would have posed no problem whatever. The chilling contempt of his response made her shiver and she drew the counterpane close around her shoulders. Aching to escape, she knew she must stay.
Her mother sat up. ‘Though I did my best he will take no responsibility.’ She inhaled deeply. ‘Still, you must marry someone. And it will have to be soon, if you – and we – are not to be the talk of the village. I have lain awake half the night worrying. And I think I have it.’
Won’t be bullied and cannot be bought. Had her mother tried to bribe him into marriage? Feeling a quaking in her chest Tamara clenched her teeth, teetering between wild laughter and shattering sobs. Her mother had done the one thing certain to make him refuse.
‘Are you listening, Tamara?’
She swallowed hard. ‘Yes, Mama. You said you have it.’ Cold sweat beaded her hairline and upper lip. Beneath the counterpane her nightdress stuck to clammy skin while she trembled. Her head felt light and her stomach queasy. ‘What do you have?’
‘The answer, of course. You must have noticed that Thomas Varcoe has been very particular in his attentions to you these past months.’
She had noticed. Though she had neither sought nor welcomed his interest. ‘I did nothing to encourage him.’
‘No, you did not,’ Morwenna scolded. ‘And we must be thankful your coolness did not put him off. Indeed, I do believe it may have increased his regard. You must accept him.’
Stunned, Tamara raised her head. ‘But – he has made me no offer.’
Morwenna clicked her tongue. ‘Don’t be so difficult. That is a mere detail. A little encouragement is all that is needed to bring him to the point.’
‘Are you – ’ Tamara was about to say ‘serious’. But her mother’s determined frown and jutting chin were answer enough. She bit her lower lip hard as she fought the urge to scream. Her eyes stung and burned with tears she would not allow to fall. ‘And what of my condition?’
Busily adjusting folds of material over her knees, Morwenna did not look up. ‘If we are quick there will be no need for him to know.’
Appalled, Tamara stared at her mother. ‘Mama, we cannot –’
Morwenna wasn’t listening. ‘He must be brought up to the mark as soon as possible. Indeed, it will answer very well. Then should the child bear any likeness to – that man,’ she shuddered, ‘it should not occasion comment.’
‘Devlin has stronger features,’ Tamara murmured. He was stronger in every respect, his build, his personality, and his character.
‘For heaven’s sake, Tamara! The similarities outweigh the differences, and that’s all that matters.’
‘But they loathe each other.’
‘What had that to do with anything? And why should it concern us? As a matter of fact, it is all to the good.’ Morwenna’s mouth curled in a knowing smile. ‘Devlin Varcoe will not tell his brother or anyone else the truth. His pride would not allow it. As for Thomas, what possible purpose would be served in telling him?’
‘Mama, I can’t –’
‘You will do as you are told! It is your wilful, shameless behaviour that put us in this position. Now I have found a solution that will answer all the difficulties the least you can do is show some gratitude. I will hear no more argument, Tamara. You will marry Thomas Varcoe, and that’s an end to it.
‘She’s gaining, skip,’ Sam said quietly.
Devlin glanced over his shoulder. Sam was right. Despite cramming every spare stitch of canvas onto masts now creaking in protest under the strain, the weight of the cargo held the lugger low in the water. This not only slowed her down, it meant her angle – despite shifting ballast to compensate – allowed the choppy water to slop in over the lee rail.
Despite desperate efforts on the pump, the water was coming in as fast as it was being forced out. Meanwhile the cutter was shortening the distance between them.
Though dawn had broken, a thick blanket of cloud hovered over the eastern horizon masking the rising sun. From behind it golden rays lit fast-moving, ragged-edged billows blowing up from the west, painting them orange and purple.
‘What’s the Lark doing out here, anyhow?’ Devlin heard Joe ask. ‘Falmouth’s her area. She got no business down this end.’
‘The cutter knew we’d be here,’ Devlin said grimly. ‘Someone betrayed us.’
‘Yes, but who, skip?’ Billy panted as he worked the pump. ‘It wasn’t none of us,’ he added quickly.
‘I know that.’ Devlin was impatient. ‘Right now I’ve no idea.’ His first thought, God help him, had been his brother. Yet he could not imagine Thomas paying for, then forfeiting, a cargo, not to mention the profit he would lose. So if not Thomas, then whom? ‘But I’ll find out. And when I do that person will wish he had never been born.’ Glimpsing the looks his crew exchanged he knew they were remembering Charlie Grose.
‘That’s for later. Right now the cutter captain thinks he knows who we are. But unless he gets close enough to see our faces he can’t be certain.’ Devlin had always kept the lugger free of a name or any recognizable feature. Her black hull and dark brown sails made her indistinguishable from any of the hundreds of Mount’s Bay boats.
‘Shall us black up, skip?’ Ben asked.
‘You all know the law,’ Devlin warned. ‘Get caught with a blackened face while smuggling and you’ll be hanged.’
‘If they catch us we’ll hang anyway,’ Danny said.
‘They got an eye glass aboard same as you, skip,’ Andy said. ‘But if we’re blacked up they can’t tell who we are.’
Devlin gave a brief nod. ‘The soot bag is up fore’ard. Sam, take the helm. Andy, here’s my glass. Let me know when they ready the guns. Billy, you stay on the pump. The rest of you get the casks over the side.’ Though they groaned they didn’t hesitate. By dumping the cargo they were throwing away much-needed money. But to be captured with contraband on board would mean at the very least transportation, at worst the noose.
In the small space by Sam’s feet, Devlin removed his boot, retrieved the letter and stuffed it inside his shirt then pulled the boot on again. He could see the craggy cliffs of the Lizard ahead on the starboard beam.
‘Skip!’ Andy yelled. ‘They’re getting ready to –’
The gun’s boom rolled across the water. Devlin saw the splash about fifty yards behind and to port.
‘Bastard’s trying to push us onto the Lizard,’ Ben cried.
‘Get those casks over,’ Devlin snapped.
‘They’re re-loading,’ Andy called.
‘Skip!’ Joe shouted urgently. ‘Squall coming!’
Following Joe’s pointing finger Devlin saw a low-lying mass of purple-black cloud and beneath it a rippling curtain whose lower
edge churned the sea into froth. It was heading for them at frightening speed.
‘Get that topsail down! Drop the jib-topsail! Put a reef in both lugs,’ Devlin roared and seized the tiller from Sam. ‘I’ve got her. You help Danny.’ As he spoke the wind suddenly dropped, and the sound of the men’s grunts as they left the cargo to struggle with ropes and canvas seemed unnaturally loud. Watching them, seeing teeth bared with effort in soot-streaked faces, Devlin missed Jared keenly. They were a fine crew and they were doing their best. But there was too much to do and too few of them to do it.
Glancing back he saw the cutter enveloped by the squall as it hurtled towards them. The hissing of a million angry snakes grew louder. ‘Brace yourselves,’ he yelled. The wind returned with a mighty buffeting roar. Canvas snapped and the masts creaked loudly beneath the pressure of the straining sails as the lugger leapt forward.
Rain lashed down. It stung exposed flesh, rinsed off the soot and hit casks and deck like a cascade of lead shot. It pierced canvas smocks, thick oiled wool sweaters and shirts to soak and chill the skin. The noise was deafening, visibility non-existent.
Then, as swiftly as it had begun, the rain stopped as the squall heading towards the coast, masking the land behind its thick veil.
Wiping his wet face, and raking back his dripping hair, Devlin looked over his shoulder. Not only was the cutter still there, it was closer.
‘Come on, move! Get rid of that brandy. Sam, take the helm.’ Another boom echoed across the water. Crouching in the well, Devlin took the letter from inside his shirt. Casvellan had warned him and so had his uncle. Though he dared not keep it, it might yet save them.
Breaking the seal he unfolded the thick damp paper. It wasn’t one letter, but two, one concealed inside the other. On the inside of the outer sheet were a few scrawled words. He tipped it sideways to catch the light and read, Roscoff, end Feb, M.E.
The letter inside was addressed to Lord Grenville. He hesitated, but it was too late now to turn back. Another boom echoed. This time he heard the ball howl past and Danny cursed as it splashed a fountain of water into the boat.
‘Skip,’ Sam’s mutter was urgent. ‘The next one will sink us.’
Icy rage surged through Devlin but he kept his voice low and level. ‘Get the rest of those casks over the side. Sam, prepare to heave to. Danny, wave to let them know we’re surrendering. Clean your faces all of you. Look sharp.’ Turning away he broke the seal.
Ignoring the crew’s mutters and the cutter captain’s bellowed instructions, he skimmed the salutations.
… growing rumours of negotiations between royalist factions and Louis XVI’s brother, the pretender to the throne. But while new landowners fear that a royalist restoration would deprive them of their property, anger and dissatisfaction with the current regime indicates that a military coup appears not merely possible but increasingly likely. One name heard ever more frequently is that of General Napoleon Bonaparte. Despite his young age – he is but nine-and-twenty – he is known to be an exceptional soldier and administrator. His defeat of the royalist uprising in October of last year has fuelled his ambition and must consolidate his claim.
Sir, having become a liability to my sources and with the risk of discovery or betrayal increasing daily, I shall head west. I hope to reach Roscoff by the end of February and pray for safe passage back to England. Your obedient servant, M.E.
M.E.? Devlin heard his uncle’s voice. Some say he’s an army officer, others reckon he’s a merchant or diplomat. M.E. Martin? Martin Erisey? Jenefer Trevanion’s fiancé? But wasn’t he supposed to be in America on some sort of diplomatic mission?
Yet what better cover than for everyone to believe him on the other side of the Atlantic?
‘Skip,’ Sam muttered urgently. ‘They’re almost on us.’
Swiftly wrapping the letters around a lump of iron ballast Devlin dropped them overboard and watched them sink. Then rising to his feet he took the tiller. ‘Drop the sails,’ he ordered. As the lugger slowed, the cutter came up on the weather side. Several of her crew lined the side armed with pistols.
‘We’re done for,’ Andy whispered.
‘Stand fast, boys,’ Devlin said quietly. ‘No resistance, no heroics. Just do what they tell you. They have us now, but they won’t hold us. You have my word on it.’
Back home from Falmouth, reeling from exhaustion and the shock of her discovery, Jenefer collapsed into bed and slept for six hours. Waking with a start just after dawn, her brain seething with questions to which she had no answers, she lit the range and made a pot of tea. Feeling stronger after two cups and some bread and butter, she washed and dressed, put on her hat and coat and hurried through the village, desperate to talk to Betsy.
Inez opened the door to her knock. ‘Miss Jenefer! Dear life! You’re out some early.’
‘Good morning, Mrs Sweet. I’m sorry to call at such an hour, but I need to see my sister.’
Inez shook her head. ‘Better not, miss. Proper poorly she is. Nothing to worry about,’ she added quickly. ‘Just this here chesty cold. ’Tis all round the village. Up half the night coughing she was, poor little maid. Wore her out it did. I mixed up some butter, sugar, and vinegar to soothe her throat. She’s sleeping now. Best leave her be. She’ll get over it all the quicker.’
Bitterly disappointed, Jenefer did her best not to let it show. ‘You’re right. It would be wrong to disturb her. When she wakes up, please tell her I called, and that I hope she feels better very soon.’
‘I’ll tell her the minute she wake. Begging your pardon, miss, but you’re looking a bit wisht yourself. All right, are you?’
‘Just a little tired.’
‘Well, you look after yourself. Wouldn’t do for you to catch it. Leave it a few days. Miss Betsy should be on the mend by then. You can have a nice chat, and I’d take it kindly if you’d stop for a bite of tea.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Sweet. Betsy is very fortunate to have found such kindness.’
‘No such thing,’ Inez’s cheeks pinked as she brushed the compliment aside. ‘A dear little soul she is. Haven’t complained once. Think the world of her we do. So don’t you worry, miss. I’ll take good care of her.’
Envy pierced sharply as Jenefer forced a smile. ‘I never doubted it, Mrs Sweet. How is Jared? Is he recovering?’
‘Better than he was, miss, thank you for asking. Weak as a kitten, mind. Took him quite bad it did. But he’s on the mend now. He do visit with your sister while I’m busy. Does my heart good to hear ’em laughing.’ Inez fiddled with her apron. ‘I know he isn’t what your father would have chose,’ she blurted, ‘but my Jared got a loving heart and he’ll do his best by your sister.’ She sighed and clicked her tongue. ‘Fretting he is, about not being with the others. Can’t wait to get back to sea.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Men! Worse than children, they are.’
Having no man and no child, Jenefer felt ill-equipped to comment. Instead she nodded, made herself smile once more, and turned to go. ‘Good day to you, Mrs Sweet.’
‘Bye, Miss Jenefer. You take care now.’ She closed the door.
Walking back through the village, Jenefer barely noticed the nods and greetings of people passing on their way to work. Though they would always be sisters, Betsy was part of Jared’s family now. They would have first claim on her loyalty. She didn’t begrudge Betsy her happiness. But as life improved for Betsy, for her each day brought a new blow, and this latest was the most devastating.
Martin had not sailed to America. So where had he gone? And why? Why had he lied? Why had he not written a single letter? Why had he proposed marriage only to disappear? If he had lied about where he was going, what else had he lied about? Under these circumstances there could be no blame attached to her if she withdrew from her engagement. But that would remove the last semblance of protection she had. Where was he? Did he intend to return? Was he still alive?
Thomas studied his reflection in the mirror, made a minor adjustment to his neck cloth, then no
dded in satisfaction. He turned aside, lifted his frock coat from the hanger, pushed his arms into the sleeves and settled the padded shoulders over his own narrow sloping ones.
Should he wait until the capture was confirmed? Surely there was no need. His arrangement with Mr Eddy, the newly appointed Supervisor of Customs responsible for this area of coast, was watertight. Besides, with captured smugglers always landed either at Mousehole or Porthleven, it might be days before the news reached Porthinnis. Why should he wait? He had achieved the first of his objectives. He was finally rid of his hated brother.
Now for the second: Tamara Gillis. At the dance he had watched her, seen her gaze follow Devlin. He had glimpsed the flash of anger. There had been something else, something too swiftly gone for him to recognize it. He dismissed it for it didn’t matter. He had an ally in her mother.
Morwenna Gillis was desperate for her daughter to marry well. But Tamara’s willfulness made families with eligible sons wary. They might like her charm, and even smile at her high spirits. But few would risk their family’s future on a girl so determined to go her own way.
With no family – other than his soon-to-be-dead brother and his uncle permanently settled on the other side of the Channel in Roscoff – Thomas was free to please himself. He had wanted Tamara for years. Saying nothing, fearful of his father’s ridicule or his brother’s mockery, he had watched her grow from a coltish girl into a confident and striking young woman.
Taking over the business after his father’s death should have brought him wealth and status. But things had gone wrong, people had let him down, and the resulting financial mess had left him terrified all his plans would come to nothing.
Now all that was firmly in the past. Within days the lugger’s capture would be confirmed. Within a couple of weeks, a month at the most, his brother would be dangling from the hangman’s rope with a broken neck, or locked in the hold of a convict ship on his way to some godforsaken country on the other side of the world.
Thomas smiled. Everything Devlin owned would be his. As was his right. Things would be very different then. Oh yes. Certain people would regret their lack of respect. He would enjoy taking his revenge. But that would wait, and be all the sweeter for it. First he would marry.
