06.The Penniless Peer (The Eternal Collection)

by Cartland, Barbara

  She knew as she spoke that it was her love for him that made her fearful. She could not bear to think that he might be in serious trouble with the authorities, or hauled before the Courts for a misdemeanour which could have serious consequences.

  “Well, with your help or without your help,” Lord Corbury said roughly, “I am going to try my hand at bringing home a cargo. It cannot be so difficult if so many blockheads get away with it!”

  Fenella did not answer and after a moment he said,

  “And that reminds me - who was waiting on us tonight? I do not remember ever seeing either of those men before.”

  Fenella hesitated a moment. She wondered if she should tell the truth, knowing it would incense Periquine, but at the same time she never lied to him.

  “Sir Nicolas — lent us two of his — servants,” she said after a moment.,

  “Waringham!” Lord Corbury ejaculated. “But why the devil should he do that? I have no wish to accept his charity!”

  He thought for a moment, then added,

  “And I imagine it was one of his staff that was doing the cooking. Now I think of it, I cannot believe that Mrs. Buckle was capable of providing the dishes we ate at dinner.”

  “No, of course she could not,” Fenella agreed, “and I assure you that Hetty would not have congratulated you on the food or on the success of the evening if I had not accepted Sir Nicolas’s offer of help.”

  “Are you demented? Do you imagine I wish to be beholden to that stiff neck?” Lord Corbury asked furiously.

  “Actually — he was not helping — you,” Fenella said in a low voice.

  “Then who was he helping?” Lord Corbury enquired. “I cannot imagine that he wanted my dinner party to be a success, so that I could shine as a host in front of Hetty ! “

  “He — was helping — me,” Fenella murmured. “You!”

  There was no doubt of the astonishment in Lord Corbury’s voice.

  “He discovered — by chance,” Fenella explained uncomfortably, “that I intended to cook the dinner for you. Mrs. Buckle could not do it, and you know as well as I do, Periquine, that old Barnes would never have managed by himself. He can hardly serve two people, let alone five, and he would undoubtedly have got in a terrible tangle with all the different courses.”

  There was no denying the truth of this and the rage in Lord Corbury’s eyes faded a little, but his tone was still truculent as he said,

  “Well I think you should have consulted me before accepting Waringham’s offer, whatever his motive in making it.”

  “There was no time to make other arrangements,” Fenella pointed out, “and I promise you, Periquine, that I was very worried about the evening from the very moment you told me it had been arranged. And you have to admit that Hetty enjoyed herself and that the food was delicious.”

  Lord Corbury did not answer for a moment, and she knew he was finding it hard to sustain his anger knowing all too well that what she said was the truth and entirely logical.

  Then petulantly he said,

  “Well it makes me more convinced than ever that I have to make money - one way or another! Things cannot go on like this, and our ill-gotten gains are certainly not going to last for ever.”

  He paused a moment, then said,

  “Are you going to help me with the smuggling? I am sure you have some local knowledge about people whom I should contact.”

  “Yes, I will — help you,” Fenella said with a little sigh.

  She knew there was nothing else she could do, and she added almost pleadingly,

  “You will take every precaution, Periquine, and not do anything foolhardy? Like you, I do not wish to be transported.”

  “There is no chance of that,” Lord Corbury said sharply. “This is a man’s job and you are certainly not coming with me across the Channel.”

  Fenella laughed.

  “Then how, may I ask, are you going to bargain when you reach the other side? I believe it is very important that one should buy cheap to sell dear. Perhaps your French has improved a great deal during the years you were in France, but you were never, with all your cleverness, very proficient at foreign languages.”

  Lord Corbury grinned.

  “I am told I am a most convincing gapster when it comes to making love.”

  “That of course is very helpful!” Fenella said sarcastically. “Unless you are buying the brandy from a female which is not likely! Either I come with you, Periquine, or I will not tell you whom to contact in the first place. And if you go floundering around asking the wrong people, there is every likelihood of your making the authorities suspicious before you start.”

  “All right, all right!” Lord Corbury agreed. “Do not nag me! Trust a woman always to get - her own way! Tell me where I should go and whom I should see.”

  Fenella had heard for some years of a Mr. Renshaw who lived in Hellingly and who was a byword amongst the local villagers.

  “I’ll wager this must be some of Renshaw’s spirit,” they would say in the local Inn, if the rum or brandy was of good quality.

  And when a man smelt pleasantly of a good tobacco, there was always someone who would clap him on the back and ask if he had been “seeing Renshaw” lately.

  Lord Corbury rode off to Hellingly the next day, and Fenella for once agreed it would be unwise for her to accompany him. He came back elated as a school-boy.

  “Renshaw is a splendid chap!” he told Fenella. “He understood exactly what I wanted almost before I had to ask his help. He says there is a boat that I can buy and it is a first class bargain. It is very light, very fast and has not done more than half a dozen trips.”

  “Then why is it being sold?” Fenella asked.

  For a moment Lord Corbury looked embarrassed. Then he said “The crew had a bit of bad luck. They ran straight into a Revenue Cutter.”

  He saw Fenella’s expression and added quickly,

  “Renshaw says it is a thing that might happen once in a million times. As a matter of fact he suspects they had all been drinking, a thing which never happens if there is someone of authority in command. Obviously it is important to cross as quickly as possible - not much over three hours on a smooth sea - pick up the cargo and get home before dawn.”

  “The nights are not long this time of year,” Fenella objected. “I have always understood that despite the rough seas it is better to go in October or November.”

  “I am not going to wait until then,” Lord Corbury said positively. “As a matter of fact I put that very point to Renshaw and he told me there is a summer morning mist over the Channel which is just as effective as a November fog.”

  It was impossible to quench his enthusiasm, and soon Fenella found herself carried away with the excitement of it all and was prepared to listen to the details which Lord Corbury had culled from Mr. Renshaw.

  “Renshaw was telling me that last night,” he related, “a boat with which he was concerned with a crew of 26 brought back a ton of leaf tobacco in bales of 6o lbs, fifty half-ankers of brandy and gin and thirty chests of tea, to the value of £10,000.”

  “But surely you are not having so large a crew?” Fenella exclaimed.

  “No, this boat that I bought from him is only built for ten,” Lord Corbury answered. “At the same time Renshaw thinks that with skilful buying - and you were right there, Fenella, to buy right is essential - we could make five to seven thousand pounds profit a trip.”

  “It is a lot!” Fenella exclaimed.

  “What is more,” Lord Corbury went on, “a golden guinea will fetch 27 shillings in England now and much more on the other side of the Channel. That gold in the Priest’s Hole is worth a great deal more than we thought!”

  “How much will you have to pay the crew?” Fenella asked.

  “Renshaw says that if I employ them regularly they should get £1 a week each as wages, and £10 for every successful run.”

  “And have you actually bought the boat?” Fenella enquired.

  “Of
course I have,” Lord Corbury replied. “I am not such a fool as to let such a bargain slip through my fingers. And Renshaw is arranging everything for me - the boat, the men and the ponies who will take away the cargo immediately on our return.”

  “What does he ask for himself?”

  “Seventeen per cent of the cargo and my word of honour that if we are caught his name will never be mentioned.”

  “I suppose he is trustworthy,” Fenella said doubtfully. “After all he has everything to gain and nothing to lose! I expect you will have to pay cash for the boat immediately.”

  “My dear girl, Renshaw is a business man,” Lord Corbury said. “I promised to take the money over to him tomorrow, with of course payment in advance for the ponies and the men who will carry the cargo to London on our return.”

  ‘It all sounds so easy,’ Fenella thought at the time.

  Even now in the darkness of the night and feeling the boat moving under her, she could hardly credit they were actually embarked on such a wild adventure.

  Once again she was dressed in the clothes that Periquine had worn at Eton and which she had worn when they had visited Isaac Goldstein’s house. Even Lord Corbury had thought this a wise precaution.

  “I shall tell the men you are my young brother,” he said. “There is a superstition about it being unlucky for a ship to carry a woman at sea and I am certain they would not want to take one on a journey where they were risking their lives.”

  “Yes, I think it is sensible to say I am a boy,” Fenella agreed.

  “And do not speak if you can help it,” Lord Corbury admonished her, “or your voice will give you away.”

  They had been forced to leave the Priory in daylight and Fenella had been half afraid that someone would see her riding astride before they were out of the immediate vicinity of her home.

  But fortunately by riding in the shelter of the woods and through the fields, they had escaped notice and reached Hellingly just as the sun was sinking.

  Lord Corbury rode without pausing through the little hamlet with its Inn and small grey stone church, and they continued across the Downs until they reached the small creek where the men were to be waiting for them.

  For a moment Fenella seeing no-one thought their plan had failed and Lord Corbury would be disappointed. But almost like magic men appeared from behind rocks and from some caves low down at sea level.

  The boat had been covered with fisherman’s nets and hidden so effectively that anyone passing would hardly have given it a second glance.

  By the time the nets had been removed and Lord Corbury had inspected the boat, the dusk was falling and it was time to go.

  The oarsmen who were tough, sturdy yokels with strong muscles, carried stout ash poles six feet in length which were known as bats. It was these weapons which were very effective in a fight which had earned them the name of batmen by which they were known to the Revenue Officers.

  There was very little talking and every man seemed to know what was expected of him.

  In the shortest possible time the boat was carried down to the edge of the water and Lord Corbury made a gesture to Fenella to come forward and seat herself in the bow.

  He himself would obviously sit in the stern with his hand on the tiller, and Fenella would have wished to be beside him. But she knew it was not the moment to argue.

  Accordingly she did as she was told and realised, as she sat down on some coiled ropes and watched the men taking their places at the oars, that the boat was very light.

  There was plenty of room for the cargo, but she knew that it inevitably would slow down the speed of their return journey and make it more dangerous.

  What was more, she told herself, the Preventive boats would wish to catch the smugglers red-handed and would therefore patrol the English Coast waiting for those who broke the law to return laden with their contraband from France.

  Though there was no point now in dwelling on the dangers of what they were doing, Fenella could not help being apprehensive, and she wondered if Hetty had any idea how much Periquine was prepared to risk for her sake.

  ‘Whatever happens we are together,’ she thought to herself and knew she could not have borne to be left behind wondering what was happening and knowing that Periquine was risking his life.

  ‘I love him,’ she whispered to herself and wondered if he would ever realise how much he meant to her.

  ‘Perhaps if we were both condemned to die, I could tell him,’ she thought.

  Then she shuddered at the idea. How could Periquine, so handsome, so full of life, die? And for something so relatively unimportant as money!

  It was a warm evening with very little wind and the men were making good progress.

  An hour went by and another passed without incident, and then almost before Fenella expected it there was the dark shadow ahead of the French coast, and Lord Corbury was giving low voiced orders to the men to ship their oars.

  Still without speaking, two men jumped overboard and dragged the boat up onto the shingle, and then they were all stepping out into the softly lapping waves.

  As Fenella rose a little uncertainly to her feet, Lord Corbury lifted her in his arms and carried her a little way up the beach so that she did not get her feet wet.

  “I am sure this is the place,” he whispered. “Renshaw described it to me exactly.”

  They walked on and after they had gone only a few yards a man appeared out of the darkness.

  “Rouge et noir,” Lord Corbury said, giving the password in what Fenella thought privately was unmistakably a British accent.

  In reply the man brought from under the dark cloak he was wearing a lantern which he held for a moment so that he could see Lord Corbury’s face.

  He was apparently satisfied because he turned on his heel and with an abrupt “Suivez-moi” walked ahead.

  They followed him and in a very short while found themselves in a shed which was built on the edge of the beach. Fenella realised it was nothing more or less than a roughly constructed warehouse.

  Here there were hundreds of tubs of brandy and gin, bales of tobacco and tea, rolls of silks, in fact every sort of ware that it was possible to imagine, and all ready for sale so long as the Frenchmen could get their hands on the English gold they so greedily coveted.

  The men with whom they were dealing were sharp-faced and hard-eyed. At first Fenella merely translated what they said to Lord Corbury, and then repeated his answers back to them in French.

  But soon she found herself in the midst of the argument being unable to resist the cut and thrust of what was undoubtedly a duel of wits.

  It was when finally they had agreed a figure for the brandy and tobacco which Lord Corbury had decided were the only goods he would purchase on this trip, that one of the Frenchmen said admiringly “Your young brother, Monsieur, drives a hard bargain! He is so sharp that he might be a woman. He has left us precious little profit on this deal, I can promise you.”

  Lord Corbury understood the gist of this and replied quickly,

  “There will be other trips - I might even buy a bigger boat. It just depends how successful I am the first time.”

  “You will have no difficulty in disposing of these, Monsieur,” the Frenchman answered. “Your brother has beguiled out of us the best brandy and the very best tobacco. There is many that would cheat you, but not us.”

  “I hope not,” Lord Corbury said dryly.

  Then one of the Frenchmen ran off to fetch the crew who carried the cargo down to the ship.

  Lord Corbury paid over the gold which he carried in a leather bag round his waist. Each oarsman, Fenella had noticed, had a long leather purse slung to his belt, and in this they had stored the guinea with which Lord Corbury had paid them before they started their journey.

  Then quietly without wasting time in goodbyes or even the expressions of good will usually so prevalent in French conversation, they set off for home.

  This, Fenella knew, was where the danger really
lay, and yet everything seemed so quiet and peaceful. They had not encountered a single ship or boat on their outward journey, and it appeared as if their luck would hold and the homeward run would be just as uneventful.

  The sky was overcast and it seemed as if there was a promise of rain. Fenella knew that would be in their favour, though it would be uncomfortable for the crew.

  The men were rowing well. They had started off on leaving a little unevenly, but now the boat was being so skilfully handled that it seemed to shoot through the water with every stroke.

  It was not very comfortable sitting in the bow now that it was filled with barrels and bales. Fenella had no room for her legs as she had had on the outward journey, and the smell of tobacco was so strong that it made her eyes sting.

  She was however growing apprehensive because, although they were still in mid Channel, it seemed to her that the sky was lightening perceptibly.

  She longed to ask Periquine if he was worried too, but he was right at the other end of the boat and between them were the sweating oarsmen, their breathing sounding quite noisy in the stillness all around them.

  Then, with a relief which made Fenella realise how much the tension had been growing inside her, they ran into a sea mist.

  It was not very dense, but there was enough for her to feel that it afforded a little cover; for there was no doubt that now the night-sky was paling and there was a faint promise of dawn in the east.

  On and on they went, on and on, until Fenella felt her eyelids dropping and knew that the tobacco was having a narcotic effect on her.

  She was indeed almost asleep when suddenly there was the sound of voices.

  She sat up quickly with a jerk. The sound came from their right and she realised immediately it was from another ship.

  Lord Corbury had heard it too and he said quietly,

  “Lift your oars.”

  The men obeyed him taking their oars out of the water. But it was too late! If they had heard another ship approaching, the ship had also heard them.

  “Who are you?” a voice shouted across the water. “Heave to in the name of the King!”

  It was a Revenue Cutter and Fenella almost screamed the words aloud. Then she heard Lord Corbury say, still in a low voice but with an unmistakable note of command,