by Dawn Harris
Dismounting outside the front door, I handed Orlando over to Mudd’s care and went indoors. The hall clock showed it to was after one, the candles were low in their sockets, and everyone, except my butler, had gone to bed. He had fallen asleep in a chair, and I gazed at him in fond amusement, for in general he didn’t fuss, yet he would never retire to bed until I came home.
When I called his name softly, he woke immediately, jumping up in some confusion. ‘I didn’t hear you come in, my lady.’
I smiled at him. ‘You shouldn’t have waited up, Jeffel. You knew I had Mudd with me.’
‘Yes, my lady, but I wouldn’t have had a wink of sleep. Why, you might have been set upon and robbed.’
Refraining from pointing out he’d managed to doze in an uncomfortable hall chair while waiting for me, I explained briefly about the shipwreck. Horrified though he was, he couldn’t hide his delight that I’d caught Smith out. ‘You’ll be better off without him, my lady. He always was a troublemaker.’
Catching a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror, I saw my hair was a mass of tangles, and there was a large salt tidemark on my riding dress. When I began to shiver again with the cold, Jeffel insisted on making me a warming drink of hot milk and brandy. I drank it with relish, feeling better for it. I wouldn’t let him call my maid, as it would have taken her an hour to sort my hair and I was exhausted. Going to my bedchamber, I simply peeled off my damp clothes, slipped on a warm nightdress, and climbed into bed. As I drifted into sleep, I wondered what my father would have made of tonight’s exploits, and decided he would have approved.
The following morning the wind had moderated to a gentle breeze, and it was raining steadily. I badly needed to take a bath, and by the time the servants had brought up enough cans of hot water, and my maid had washed and untangled my hair, half the morning had gone.
I went downstairs to join my aunt, uncle and cousin for, what was for me, a late breakfast. By then they knew of the shipwreck, although I didn’t mention my part in it until my aunt had poured herself a cup of coffee and buttered some toast. She listened in silent approval at first, but the instant I said I’d gone on to the beach, the storm clouds began to gather. I played down my part in the French sailor’s rescue, but even so, she burst out, ‘For heaven’s sake Drusilla, you should have left that to the men. Why, your petticoats must be utterly ruined.’ To which even my uncle laughed heartily.
Fortunately, I was saved from a further rebuke when Jeffel came in to inform me Mr Arnold had called, and was awaiting me in the library. I found him standing, gazing out at the garden, and when he turned and bowed, I remarked that the garden was in a sorry state, the gale having ruined the flowers.
‘Actually I was admiring your greenhouse ma’am,’ he said, as I begged him to be seated. ‘I built a small one for Mrs Arnold a few years back. She’s very proud of her geraniums. Especially those she grew with seed from America.’
‘How fortunate you are to have a relative living in America,’ I observed, smiling. Jeffel came in then with refreshments. It was getting on for eleven, and while I didn’t require anything, I knew Mr Arnold would have breakfasted hours ago. My visitor accepted a glass of wine and a freshly baked biscuit, before answering, ‘I was saying to Mrs Arnold the other day that it must be eight years since her brother went to America. She soon corrected me mind, as wives do. It’s ten years, not eight, she said, as if I should have known all along. Of course, she wishes John Delafield was here with us. She worries about him, especially when months go by without a letter from him.’ As I sympathised, he accepted another biscuit. ‘Still, I mustn’t keep you talking about my family, ma’am. I came to thank you for your help in capturing Smith, and to assure you he is safely in custody.’
‘Did he tell you who paid him?’
‘No, ma’am. To be truthful, I doubt he knows who runs the gang. I’d dearly love to get my hands on the men in charge, but they’re too clever by half to get caught.’
He told me the French brig had completely broken up, more bodies had come ashore, but none of the cargo, which he thought was lost. I advised him I also wanted Smith charged with attempted murder, explaining about the men who had attacked me in the mist, and how Smith had knocked me senseless at Hokewell Bay with that piece of cliff. He asked me a number of questions and promised to see it was dealt with in the proper manner.
After Mr Arnold had gone, I gave some thought as to what to do about Smith’s wife and ten children. Crossing to the shelf where the estate records were kept, I took down the book in which I recorded the details of all my tenants, including the names and dates of birth of the children. Turning to the pages concerning Smith, I saw his eldest son would be twenty-one in three months time. He was a polite, sensible young man, quite unlike his father. Whenever I went to the farm, he and the brother closest to him in age were always hard at work, yet he was rather young to take on the tenancy.
I mulled the situation over for some time before coming to a decision, and wanting to inform the family of it immediately, I rode over to the farm straight after nuncheon, accompanied by Mudd. The rain had stopped by this time, although the skies were still leaden. I found Daniel, the eldest boy, mending a fence. He glanced up as I approached, an anxious look on his face. Putting the hammer down, he touched his forelock.
‘I’ve got everything in hand, my lady. We’ll manage very well without my father, if you’ll let us stay.’ And he pleaded, ‘You won’t turn us out, will you?’
I smiled. ‘No, I shan’t do that.’
He let out a long sigh, releasing all his pent-up strain. ‘I won’t let you down, my lady, I swear.’
‘No, I don’t think you will. If you do well here, I shall transfer the tenancy to you on your twentyfirst birthday. Provided you look after my land properly, and don’t allow it to be used by smugglers, it will remain in your name.’
His eyes lit up, and as quickly clouded again. ‘But when my father comes out of prison—?’ ‘Even then,’ I assured him. In any case, Smith would be given a lengthy sentence for hiding contraband. I didn’t mention he’d also tried to murder me, as I had no proof, and the family had already borne more than enough.
When we went back to the farmhouse to speak to his mother, she sent the younger children out to play, and begged me to be seated before daring to look at her son. His beaming face told her all was well, and I repeated to her what I’d told Daniel, conscious of the strain in her eyes and the bruises on her face.
Tears threatened, and she sank onto a chair, taking a minute to compose herself before owning, ‘I’ve been that worried, my lady. What with Daniel being so young, I didn’t know what was to become of us all.’ But her mood quickly began to lighten at the prospect of life without her drunken bully of a husband. ‘There’ll be no more smugglers made welcome on this farm, my lady, you can be sure of that. My boys and I will see everything is done as you would wish.’
She hesitated a moment, and then said, ‘When Jeremiah eventually gets out of prison, he’ll want to come back here-------’
‘No, I’m sorry, but I cannot allow that, Mrs Smith. He must find somewhere else to live.’
She looked at me as if I’d just handed her a bag of gold. ‘You won’t change your mind will you?’ she asked worriedly. Smiling, I promised I would not, and left soon after, thankful that problem was solved, and that it had brought some happiness to that long suffering family.
Mudd and I rode down to the cliff top to see what was left of the brig, but the tide had covered it. The wind had eased off, the waves were significantly calmer; the only reminder of what had gone on here last night being the men salvaging wood from the wreck.
Luck was truly on my side that morning, however, for on making our way back to Westfleet we witnessed a scene I would never forget. We had just slowed to a walk to negotiate the steep descent from the Downs into Manor Lane, at which point we had an excellent view of the whole lane. It was ankle deep in mud from this morning’s rain, and deserted, apart from the par
son, who had reached the far end where the road dipped sharply downhill into the village.
Local boys often used this slope as a mud slide in wet weather, and had obviously done so today. For we saw Mr Upton take a few tentative steps down the slope, and almost at once slip out of control, lurching forward a little, then equally unsteadily backwards, waving his arms about as he tried to save himself. For one brief moment he seemed to regain his footing, until a sudden gust of wind upset that delicate balance, causing him to fall onto his derriere, skewing sideways as he slid slowly down the hill.
As he flailed about at the bottom, trying to get back on his feet, a farm cart came past, splattering him liberally with mud. The driver of the cart jumped down, assisted Mr Upton to his feet, and tried to help him on to his cart, no doubt meaning to see him safely home, even though it was only a short distance. But the parson’s boots must have been caked in mud, for his foot slipped on the step of the cart, and he fell face down in the mud. By now I was laughing so much I couldn’t speak, and Mudd was little better.
‘We shouldn’t laugh, my lady,’ he chortled, making no effort to hide his own mirth.
‘No ---- and I wouldn’t,’ I gasped, holding my sides. ‘If only he wasn’t so full of his own importance.’ When I related the tale over dinner even my aunt laughed heartily, having fallen out with Mrs Upton through that lady’s scandalmongering over Giles giving money to local smugglers.
Lucie then began speculating on how much longer Vincent and Piers would stay on the Island. ‘It’s more than three weeks since they arrived. And they only came for a week.’ We had seen very little of them, as Vincent was enjoying visiting all old friends and haunts.
My aunt sniffed. ‘It was a mistake to entertain them at Ledstone. Giles should have let them put up at the George, as Vincent undertook to do in his letter. He won’t find it easy to get rid of them now. Vincent may seem charming, but in my experience black sheep never change their spots, and----’ she stopped, staring at us in bewilderment as we all fell about laughing. ‘What have I said?’
Lucie mopped her eyes, still gasping for breath. ‘Black sheep don’t have spots, Mama.’
My aunt blinked at her, and then smiled. ‘Oh well, you know what I mean. The thing is, Vincent’s presence could spoil the wedding.’ She turned to my uncle. ‘Charles, you must speak to Giles about it.’
‘My dear,’ he protested mildly, ‘I do not think---’
He was not allowed to complete the sentence. ‘He’s not obliged to invite them. Vincent chose his own way of life and-----’
I cut in, pointing out reasonably, ‘Aunt, the wedding is still four weeks away, and I doubt he’ll stay that long. After a year in America Vincent must find Island life very flat. I’m quite certain Piers does.’
Lucie agreed. ‘He never looks as if he’s enjoying himself. Vincent’s quite different though.’
‘Is he just as you expected?’ I asked, smiling at her.
‘Oh yes.’ A heartfelt sigh escaped Lucie. ‘He’s exactly the kind of man who would give up everything for love.’
My aunt gave another sniff. ‘You’ll notice he very soon forgot such nonsense when he ran out of money.’
My uncle turned to her, his eyes twinkling, ‘I don’t recall money coming into the conversation when I made you an offer, my dear.’
‘It wasn’t my place to discuss money,’ she said, her expression softening. ‘My father dealt with such matters, as is only right and proper.’
‘So, if I had been penniless would you have refused my offer?’ he ventured in a jocular tone.
‘If you had been penniless Charles, you would never have made me an offer. Let alone suggest I exchange my comfortable home for some flea-ridden hovel.’
Chuckling, my uncle slapped a hand across his knee. ‘No, you’re quite right. I should never have dared!’
‘I meant Charles, it would not have been the act of a true gentleman. And that is something you have always been.’
There was an unaccustomed tremble in her voice, and I watched in astonishment as a faint flush rose on her cheeks. Although I knew she was fond of my uncle, I’d always assumed her marriage had been one of convenience. I tried to picture her as a young girl in love, as it seemed she must have been once, but my imagination refused to stretch that far. Yet she was right about my uncle. He was a kindly man, who despite treating those who worked for him with humanity and decency, had still lost everything to the Revolution. And, but for Giles, would have forfeited his life too. Not that my aunt knew that, of course. Nor did Marguerite, thankfully.
That evening I sat in my workroom going over the events of the day. With Smith arrested, his farm was now in good hands. My uncle was regaining his strength, and having taken his first ride since arriving at Westfleet, had come home with some welcome colour in his cheeks. Paddy, the horse I’d had saddled for him, was a quiet, placid animal, just what my uncle needed at this point in his recovery. Accompanied by my aunt and cousin, he had taken a gentle outing along the coast, and had announced his intention of riding up on the Downs next.
In the midst of these pleasant thoughts, my uncle put his head round the door. ‘Are you busy, Drusilla? Or would you care for a game of chess?’
I smiled at him. ‘Of course I’ll play. My turn to win, I think.’
He laughed. ‘Not if I can help it.’ But this being one of those rare days when everything went right for me, for once I did win.
In the morning my uncle again went riding with Aunt Thirza and Lucie, while I visited one of my tenants. Approaching Hokewell on the way home, I reflected, as I had many times before, that even in the sunshine, the village had an ungodly appearance. Visitors to the Island did not linger here, and I could understand why. Riding through the village and out on to the stretch of road that led to Westfleet, I was about to break into a gallop when a large, burly fellow suddenly emerged from behind a tree and hailed me.
His seafaring clothes were far from clean, but it was the unkempt black beard and large scar running down the left side of his face that gave him a menacing appearance. If this was Jacob, the messenger, I thought, as I brought Orlando to a halt, no wonder Giles didn’t want Marguerite to see him. He touched his forelock, and I gazed down at him, trying to hide my dismay at his appearance. ‘You have a message for me?’
He grinned up at me, displaying a large gap in his upper front teeth. ‘Mr Giles said to tell that frosty-faced old coot, Leatherbarrow, to meet him at the usual place at daybreak the day after tomorrow.’ And turning on his heel, he strode off.
Ignoring the manner of the message, I called after him. ‘Wait.’ He stopped, and looked back at me. ‘Is that all?’ I demanded.
‘It is. Mr Giles never says more than he needs to.’ And he went on his way.
This last remark puzzled me. If Jacob merely told Leatherbarrow when to bring the yacht, what did it matter how much Giles said? Secrecy was essential after my uncle’s rescue, but Jacob’s comment implied Giles always wanted his messages kept quiet. Or was I reading too much into a simple remark?
Nevertheless we went straight to Ledstone, by way of Manor Lane and the Downs, where I urged Orlando into a gallop. Clattering into the stable yard at Ledstone, I dismounted just as Leatherbarrow emerged from the stables, and I was easily able to pass on the message.
The relief on his face was palpable. ‘I’ll set off at once, my lady. The tide will be about right in two hours.’
‘Won’t you be missed?’ I asked in concern.
He shook his head. ‘Mr Giles always leaves strict orders that I’m to keep his yacht in good order while he’s away. I work on it sometimes when he’s home, sleeping on board for a few nights, then no-one thinks it odd if I do so when he’s away.’
‘I see,’ I said thoughtfully, recalling occasions when I had commented on Leatherbarrow’s absence and had been told exactly that. Giles, as always, had every tiny detail worked out.
Passing on the message lifted a great weight from my shoulders. Gile
s was safe and well, and would soon be back home. I had not admitted, even to myself, how very worried I had been.
Catching sight of my godmother strolling alone in her garden, I went to join her. ‘Drusilla,’ she exclaimed gaily, holding out both hands to me. ‘How delightful. When I saw someone riding towards the stables, I was afraid it was that dreadful Mr Reevers.’
Laughing, I returned her greeting. ‘What has he done to upset you now ?’ I inquired, as we walked past the house to her rose garden.
‘He seems to have taken over the whole estate, making the decisions, just as if—’
‘Giles did ask him to look after things while he was away.’
She sniffed. ‘Yes, I suppose so. Oh, I do so wish Giles would come home. At dinner I have to converse with three gentlemen, two of whom I detest.’ She eyed me speculatively. ‘You wouldn’t care to dine with us tomorrow----?’ She stopped and put a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh I forgot, the gentlemen are all dining with the Arnolds tomorrow. Come the day after -- Friday. And bring Lucie.’ I assured her, quite truthfully, that I would be delighted, and felt certain Lucie would too. She relaxed, only to beg a moment later, ‘You won’t change your mind will you?’
I went off into a peal of laughter. ‘Of course not. I shall enjoy it.’
Reaching her rose garden, we sat on one of the long seats, and I complimented her on the brooch she was wearing. ‘Is it new? I don’t remember seeing it before.’
‘Well, actually, Vincent gave it to me.’
I blinked in surprise. ‘It looks rather expensive.’
She giggled, pleased. ‘I imagine it is. He wanted to show his gratitude for Cuthbert’s help all those years ago. He brought it all the way from America you know.’
Removing the brooch, she handed it to me. It was delicately made in the shape of a heart, fashioned in diamonds and rubies in a gold setting, the workmanship of the highest quality. ‘It is truly beautiful,’ I said, a trifle enviously, as I returned it to her.
