by Joan Smith
I should fire her now, she thought, but was afraid. Her insides were shaking like a blancmange. She was cowering before her own housekeeper, as she had vowed she would not. But before the day was out, she would be rid of this woman and her husband.
“I’ll just see if Mr. Bristcombe knows what you’re talking about,” the housekeeper said. Her manner became more compliant at the mention of deVigne’s name. They did not fear herself, a defenseless widow, but they were still not intrepid enough to take on the lord of the village.
Mrs. Bristcombe left, and the others sat on, Mrs. Grayshott sipping a cup of very inferior coffee, and wondering why she had put up with the insolent hag for so long as a single day. She had known the first morning she came that they could never rub along. Bobbie was listless this morning, heavy-eyed after her drugged sleep.
“I dreamed about Daddy last night,” she said. “He put an engine in my bed, and made it dance. It was scary.”
“Now, isn’t that odd,” Miss Milne mentioned, casting a significant look towards her mistress. “I had a word with Nellie and Olive, the maids from the Hall, and they had bad dreams too. The whole lot of us had bad dreams.”
Because the whole lot of you were drugged, the widow’s knowing nod replied. They exerted themselves to make some light conversation for the child’s sake, but as soon as the meal was over, Mrs. Grayshott saw them upstairs to the schoolroom to allow her to proceed with a plan. This business was too serious to brook more delay. She would call on Lord deVigne, and shamelessly ask him to fire the Bristcombes. She was afraid to do it herself.
The trip proved unnecessary. He was on his way to the village, and stopped by to see if he could perform any commission for Mrs. Grayshott. He saw at a glance that she was full of news, as he stepped into the saloon. “More bags of gold?” he asked lightly.
“It has gone beyond a laughing matter,” she rounded on him. She opened her full budget, ending with, “And the Bristcombes will be turned off this day, as they should have been done the day I arrived.”
“Why didn’t you do it?” he asked her.
“Because you told me to give them a chance!”
“They have had their chance, and now it is time to be rid of them. This cannot go on.”
“I am surprised you agree with me. I made sure you would recommend I let them stay on, serving us all poisoned drinks.”
“No, I am not so fond of them as that. Give them their leave, by all means,” he answered.
“I shall,” she replied, but hesitantly, with a little questioning look, hoping he would suggest doing it himself. He was always interfering; why did he not do so today, when she wanted it?
“If you’re afraid, I’ll do it for you.” Every atom of her body wished to grab at the offer, but the wording of it made this impossible. “They are my servants; I’ll dismiss them,” she was forced to say. Just as she closed her lips, Bristcombe stepped into the room.
“I have been wanting to speak to you, Bristcombe,” she said, thankful that at least deVigne was to be present at the firing. There would be no impudence from the servants with him present. She was secretly glad too that it was to the husband she was to deliver her message. The wife was more daunting even than her grouchy spouse.
“I just came in to say, ma’am, as how me and the missus will be leaving you for good. We’ve had an urgent call from the wife’s mother over at Merton that we’re needed. They want us right away. Today.”
She looked her amazement, swallowed, and couldn’t think of a word to say. Her relief, she felt, must be evident on her face.
“Excellent!” deVigne said. “We rather thought you might be leaving soon. It was what Mrs. Grayshott wished to speak to you about.”
“We figured Mrs. Grayshott and the little girl could stay with Lady Jane for a couple of days, till she can get someone to replace us,” Bristcombe said, continuing his discussion with deVigne.
“A very good idea,” deVigne agreed calmly.
“That is not necessary,” Mrs. Grayshott objected.
“You will not be comfortable here with no housekeeper and no manservant about the place,” deVigne said, with a meaningful glance, whose meaning evaded her.
The last thing she wanted was to give Bristcombe the idea he was indispensable. “I have your two girls from the Hall,” she pointed out. “We shall stay on here, certainly.”
“We’ll decide that later,” deVigne said, with a look at Bristcombe, who appeared to take a keen interest in the matter. “Thank you, Bristcombe. That will be all.” The man executed a clumsy bow and left.
“As though I’ll miss them in the least,” Delsie scoffed.
Her visitor walked forward and closed the door, shaking his head at her in a negative way. She continued. “I’m happy to be rid of them so easily, and only regret I hadn’t the pleasure of firing them. And for them to leave so abruptly too—no consideration, walking out without a moment’s notice. Not that I want them to stay!”
“You mismanaged that very badly,” deVigne said curtly when she had finished.
“The mismanagement was in letting them stay so long, and that was your fault.”
“It is clear they want you out of here for a night to allow them to get the goods smuggled in last night. Best to go to Jane for a day or two till the business is finished. They may have intended carrying on with Andrew’s operation, but now that you have tumbled to them, they are eager to leave. They want only to get that load of brandy out of here, and you must go to Jane to permit them to do so.”
“I will do no such thing!” she replied promptly, rising to anger at his imperious manner.
“Use your head. You don’t want to become entangled with a conscienceless band of smugglers. Let them get their stuff off your property, and that will be an end to it. Get your things together. I’ll take you to Jane at once.”
“I am not budging an inch. I mean to stay here and discover where they have been hiding it.”
“That is nothing to us. So long as they get out and don’t come back, you may count yourself fortunate.”
“I never heard of such paltry cowardice in my life!”
“It would be foolhardy to do anything else. We have no quarrel with the smugglers. Half the villagers are in on it, and if you run afoul of them, you may imagine what unpleasant treatment you will get there.”
“I am not the one who has been breaking the law. It is not for me to turn tail and run. I am in charge of this house, and I don’t mean to be put out by the Bristcombes.”
“You can well afford to be put out for two days. What do you think to accomplish by remaining? You can’t arrest them by yourself, and to call in the revenue men, you know, is tantamount to declaring war on the whole smuggling community. Your life will be a hell. If you care nothing for that, you might at least give a thought to Roberta.”
“I am thinking of her. They have some excellent hiding place here. Who is to say they won’t revert to it later on, if we don’t discover it and get rid of it? I must know where they have been putting it. I should think you would offer to help me, instead of siding with a band of smugglers.”
“I will keep a careful watch and see where they have hidden the stuff, but let them get it off your property. That is all they want to do. Let them go their way. They do no real harm to anyone—it is not as though they were murderers. They molest no one so long as they are not interfered with. They are not considered criminals in the ordinary way. I personally have no grudge against them. Andrew was working with them—they have got caught unprepared, with no place to take the cargo but here. Best to let them go on with it. Get your things together now, and let the Bristcombes see you are leaving. They’ll spread the word, and by tomorrow or the next day the thing will be over for good.”
“That’s what you said several days ago, that it was over for good. Since that time we have all been poisoned, however! They have the gall for anything. I won’t try to stop them, but I won’t run away either. I’ll just spy and see where they h
ave been hiding the barrels. It is nothing short of magic, deVigne, that they took a whole caravan of mules, each carrying two barrels, into the orchard, and it vanished.”
“They won’t come for it with you here.”
“If they don’t come for it, there is nothing to worry about,” she replied reasonably.
“They’ll find some way of being rid of you, and it won’t be pleasant.”
It had become a contest of wills. In her mind, she decided he was trying to bend her to do his bidding, and she was bound to stay if it killed her. “I am not leaving this house,” she told him.
“You mean to expose my niece to this unnecessary danger, do you?” he asked sharply.
“Certainly not. You may take Roberta to Lady Jane, or take her yourself.”
“I will take you both. Pack you bag. We’re leaving,” he commanded.
She inhaled a deep breath and threw back her shoulders for the challenge. “I have come to realize you are very much accustomed to having your own way. I have seen the villagers tugging their forelocks when you strut past. My own former docility in marrying your drunken, criminal brother-in-law against my will may have misled you into thinking I am equally biddable. It is not the case. I am in charge of this house. You are in no position of authority over me. Nor of my stepdaughter either, for that matter. I could keep her here if I wished, but I do not wish it. You may take Roberta. I remain.”
“I take leave to tell you, Mrs. Grayshott, you are a stubborn fool. Will you be so kind as to tell Miss Milne to prepare Roberta for a few days’ visit at the Hall? I shall require Miss Milne’s presence as well, of course, to look after the child. You shan’t have her this time if you run into a gentleman in the garden. The treatment of yourself will be different as well.”
“Don’t think to make me go by taking Miss Milne from me,” she replied. Actually it was a severe blow to be losing the governess. She turned and went to deliver the message to Miss Milne. As she angrily stalked up the stairs, she considered his words. How did he know Miss Milne had been with her in the garden? She had not told him. She had said practically nothing—as little as possible. Perhaps Miss Milne herself had mentioned it.
She asked the girl this question when she spoke to her. “Oh, no, ma’am. I never talk to him, only to say ‘how do you do,’ or to answer a question about Miss Grayshott.” The girl was busy throwing a few pieces of linen into a bag. She made no effort to conceal her relief at escaping the house. “And are you staying, then, ma’am?” she asked.
“Certainly I am.” She had only a minute to consider that if deVigne knew Miss Milne had been with her in the garden, it was because he had been there himself. It was he who had grabbed her and kissed her. Whatever emotions this might have raised in a more peaceful mood, at the height of her anger it was seen as an impertinence and insult.
When she returned to the saloon, deVigne stood with one booted foot on the finder of the grate, in a state of angry concentration. “I hope Miss Milne has succeeded in changing your mind,” he said.
“She is not so insolent as to try,” was the unyielding answer. “While we are on the subject of Miss Milne, may I ask how you came to know she was in the garden with me the night I was attacked by a libertine? I did not tell you so, and she has just confirmed for me that she did not tell you herself.”
His face was impassive, untouched by shame at being found out. “It was myself in the garden. I did it only to frighten you. I had already told you not to go out. It served you right. It was my hope it would prevent a repetition of such foolhardiness on your part in the future. Your present decision leads one to the inevitable conclusion you enjoy being attacked by libertines.”
“Not by you! I never encountered such overweaning arrogance in my life. Anyone who doesn’t do as you order is stubborn!”
“I suggest it for your own good. What do you think will happen to you if you are caught spying about the orchard, discovering the identity of the smugglers?”
“Whatever happens, I cannot believe it will prove so unpleasant as my last experience there. And I don’t mean to be caught this time.”
“You overestimate your abilities. I caught you. I shall let Jane persuade you.”
“I shan’t be joining Lady Jane for dinner this evening. Perhaps you will be kind enough to make my apologies, as I have no carriage to go and tell her myself.”
“You will find it a long day, with no company but your own mulish—” He came to a halt.
“I expect to have a deal of company. You forget your brother-in-law’s creditors will be descending on me today, dunning me for his year’s unpaid bills.”
“It will give a fine impression, for you to be seen answering your own door before half the village.”
“They will expect no better from a smuggler’s widow!” she retaliated.
“You are determined to make this affair as unsavory as possible, I see. This is sheer spite. You do it to show me what an untenable position I have put you in by this marriage. I confess quite frankly, ma’am, I think it was an error. Had I had the least idea what Andrew was up to, I would not have urged you to marry him, but there is no need to cast yourself on the mercy of a band of smugglers to bring the message home to me.”
“That is not why I am doing it.”
“Why then? There is no sane reason in the world for you to expose yourself so needlessly.”
“You wouldn’t understand. I object to being used by people. I object to the open sneers of the Bristcombes, to their audacity in using this house for a smugglers’ den. I will not be told by them or any persons of such doubtful morality what I am to do.”
“Especially me! Let me tell you, I am as finely tuned to the nuances of morality and moral turpitude as you, or anyone else. There is no outstanding virtue in stubbornness, however.”
“I wonder that you embrace it so tenaciously.” She examined him with her gray, assessing eyes, that hid all her uncertainty. She began to be assailed by doubts as to whether she were doing the sensible thing. She had relied heavily on Miss Milne’s presence, and had secretly thought deVigne would insist on helping her too, but he was bent on depriving her of every jot of assistance. “I suppose you will take your two girls from the Hall back too?” she asked.
“I shan’t cater to your whim for heroism by leaving you to stand alone against the tribe. Do you want a few of my footmen sent down for the night?”
“That won’t be necessary,” she answered with the utmost indifference, but hoping he would prevail against her.
“Very well. Do you know how to use a pistol?”
“No! I don’t intend to shoot anyone.”
“It will be well for you to have some protection, in case the smugglers decide to take advantage of a woman alone.”
“I won’t be alone. Your girls will be here with me,” she pointed out, her eyes widening in fright.
“There is no saying their boyfriends aren’t amongst the smugglers. If it comes to a showdown, I wouldn’t count on the girls for much help.”
“You’re just trying to frighten me,” she said, hoping he didn’t realize how well he was succeeding.
“Not at all. I am merely trying to prepare you for what will in all probability happen.”
She wavered in her mind, half wanting to give in, but disliking to act so cowardly. He spoke on, still in the frightening vein. “Andrew has several guns about the place. Get one and I’ll load it for you and show you how to use it. Be careful you don’t kill someone, with it lying about the place loaded.”
She had suspected before that he was trying to scare her, and was now convinced of it. She shrugged her shoulders and answered facetiously, to conceal her fear. “I don’t want a gun. You will remember, when I am done in, that we have decided on a black coffin for me.”
He scowled at her, but before he could reply, Bobbie came hopping into the room. “Me and Miss Milne are going to the Hall, Mama,” she said. “Aren’t you coming with us?”
“Not today, dear
. Another time. Mama is busy today.”
“We’re going to sleep there all night,” Bobbie told her. “Won’t you be afraid here all alone, with the Bristcombes gone?”
“I won’t be all alone. Nell and Olive are here.”
“What if the pixies come?” the child asked her.
“Your mama is not afraid of pixies,” Max told her, with a seething look at the stepmama.
Miss Milne came downstairs with a small bag in her hands. The three who were leaving made their adieux and departed. Delsie had to use every drop of her self-control not to dash out the door after them.
Chapter Fifteen
Delsie looked forward to the day, and of course the night, with utter dread, but decided the best cure was work. There was plenty of it to be done at the Cottage. She got the girts from the Hall together and went with them to the kitchen to see what dirt and confusion the Bristcombes had left behind them. It was worse than her gravest fears. The place was covered in several years’ accumulation of grime—the sort that had to be scraped away. She was revolted to think her food and that of Roberta had been prepared in this room.
They began with the cupboards, washing the walls and shelves and emptying every pot and bottle in the place, many of which were covered in green mold, holding some anomalous congealed mass of food whose original state was beyond imagining or detecting from the odor. The widow first took a supervisory role, but as the morning wore on and she was undisturbed by any creditors come to dun her, she rolled up her sleeves and joined the girls in the Herculean task of bringing order to her kitchen.
Finding their temporary mistress congenial, the girls did not hesitate to chatter and gossip together, and after an hour they were directing several friendly remarks to Mrs. Grayshott as well. They began by a comparison to how the kitchens at the Hall were kept—all was above reproach, and almost above their most exalted praise from what the mistress could gather. The words “his lordship” were introduced freely, and though Delsie realized full well she ought not to gossip, she kept her ears open and allowed the servants to do so. The girls’ conversation with herself was of an unexceptionable sort—about the Cottage, her plans for it, and also about the school. Nell had a brother there whose progress could be reported on.
