Raven’s Shadow
Book 2 of the Ravenstone Chronicles
By Louise Franklin
Also by Louise Franklin
Ravenstone, Book 1, The Ravenstone Chronicles
Published by Louise Franklin
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2014, Louise Franklin
Cover design by Vanessa Maynard
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*****
To my big sister, Corinna,
who taught me that you save yourself.
*****
“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.”
― Pablo Neruda
*****
Table of Contents
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
Acknowledgments
1
She wasn’t ready to die. Not like this. Not in some dark forest surrounded by soldiers intent on running her through with a sword. There were so many of them, Georgiana thought, desperate for a way out. There had to be a way out. She hadn’t told him she loved him. This last thought caught her by surprise. She loved him. She loved Nicholas.
“Surrender or die,” a voice called out.
Death, then, she thought.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. She was a fool for even thinking it. How had she supposed it would end? She was a smuggler, dressed like a boy and involved in dangerous and illegal activity. This is exactly how it always ended.
She glanced at Peter. He stood facing the soldiers calmly, his face unreadable. Did he not see the end in sight?
He turned to her then and smiled. She had never seen Peter smile before. They were about to die and this was the time he chose to bestow a smile on her. It was a good smile, she thought, but she knew what it meant. Peter was like her. Surrender was not an option.
Haskell took Harry from Peter and slung him over his shoulder.
“It’s pointless,” a voice said from the darkness. “You cannot escape. Give yourselves up.”
The sergeant in charge gave the order and the soldiers moved forward to arrest them.
“Back into the tunnel,” Peter said softly.
They turned back and Peter closed the door to the tower with a wooden bar that locked the door from the inside. They were surrounded.
They could hear the soldiers moving up the tunnel from the cove, but she and Peter knew they had no choice, and only hoped it was not too late. They ran back down the stairs in the dark, familiar now with every step and every turn. They had practiced this path in the darkness many times, questioning the need for it, but Peter had been insistent. He had been deaf to their protests as, night after night, with Mr. Gordon’s men absent, he had them walk every inch until they could do it running.
Now they reached the dungeon safely and Peter paused at the tunnel entrance and aimed his pistol. Georgiana pulled her small gun from her pocket while the rest of the boys continued further into the dungeon to the cell at the end. The excise men were taking a long time as they made their way up in total darkness, stumbling and cursing at the traps they had set. That had also been Peter’s idea.
They had dug holes into the tunnel floor where the earth was soft enough and covered up the traps. The smugglers knew which side of the tunnels to walk but in the dark, the excise men stumbled blindly into the traps. It slowed them down considerably as those behind the fallen slowed in fear.
“Fire at them to slow them down,” he said to her. “Try not to kill any of them. The penalty for killing an excise man is death.”
At the far end of the dungeon in one of the old cells, Fleming and Morris moved old wooden crates out of the way to expose a smaller hidden crawl space. Morris went first and Haskell passed Harry to him. Morris dragged Harry into the small space.
Georgiana fired first and the soldiers below returned fire. Peter pulled her down behind a gigantic water barrel, and they sat listening as the last gun was fired and the soldiers reloaded in the dark.
“Go,” Peter said to her, and she made her way to the back of the dungeon.
He waited until he heard them move again, and then fired high. Again, the soldiers stopped but they did not return fire this time, their Captain telling them to move on.
Jack scrambled into the small space easily and she followed him on her hands and knees and waited for Peter, making sure he was behind her. She heard him maneuver the wooden crates to hide the opening as he climbed into the foxhole that she hoped would take the soldiers a while to find.
The space was dark and smelled of earth. She could feel small pieces of dirt falling away from the roof, and she prayed it would not collapse. She followed the sound of Jack in front of her, and soon she reached the other end. Fleming pulled her out of the hole and into the welcoming shadows of the forest. Haskell and Morris were already gone. Once Peter appeared, they ran into the woods that surrounded them and disappeared. Had it not been for Peter’s need of a third, hidden exit, she knew they would all have been captured.
***
Doctor Milton walked into the drawing room and Georgiana put down her book and smiled. “How is he?” she asked.
“Recovering well,” he smiled.
She gestured for him to sit, and poured him a cup of tea. Her heartbeat had still not settled into a semblance of its old rhythm from the previous night’s encounter. Thankful that Edward and his guests would sleep until a late hour, she needed the extra time to compose herself.
“He is a fortunate young man that the blow did no lasting damage.”
Harry had been hit hard by a flying barrel of rum launched by a cannon blast that had struck the small fishing boat. Knocked unconscious, they had feared him dead. They had found a pulse, so she had Peter fetch Doctor Milton. A kick in the head by an angry horse, she had told him when he arrived in the early hours of the morning.
“What puzzles me is what he was doing in the stables at that time of night.”
“A good man,” she said, smiling. “I think the horses were restless and he went to investigate.”
“Yes, of course,” he said but his frown remained. “Most curious that he had two large splinters imbedded in his back as well. I had the devil of a time removing them, so large were they.”
“That is peculiar,” she said. “Perhaps the horse kicked the stable doors as hard as he kicked Harry. He could have fallen on them, I suppose, when he went down.”
“Yes, perhaps,” he said, ey
eing her inquisitively.
He had probably seen the kind of wounds before and knew exactly where Harry had gotten them. He was trying to see if she knew, so she gave him her best innocent smile.
As soon as Doctor Milton departed, she asked for her horse to be saddled and she rode out to the cliffs.
It was a grey day, and the clouds hung low and threatening. They had lost Holm. She had wanted to scream and cry since the first cannon shot, but had kept her emotions at bay, until now. She opened her mouth and screamed at the sky. The wind snatched her cry and spread it out thinly over the sea waves.
Then she sat and stared at the vast expanse of water. Usually her best thinking happened here, but no matter how long she stayed today, she came to no conclusion.
Mr. Gordon had not appeared last night because he knew the excise men had called in the soldiers. He had betrayed her. Major Price would also have known, and he had not warned her either. She had an understanding with him that he would give her time and space to work her way into the smuggling ring to discover the Frenchman’s identity. So what was he up to?
She knew that they had been fortunate, despite losing Holm, that the lot of them was not now sitting in a dark dank cell. Peter was to thank for that. The smaller tunnel had been his idea. The boys had worked on it for months, and only recently finished it. Peter had also insisted Mr. Gordon not know of its existence.
She was dependent on an eighteen-year-old boy, she realized. The only claim she could make to her survival was having put him in charge. She made good decisions, and she was trying to make one now, but panic seemed to come in waves like the sea, inundating any reasonable thoughts.
Her biggest fear now was that the magistrate would show up at her door and Edward would be dragged off. She would confess to the crime, for it was her fault, and make sure Edward’s innocence in the whole affair was known. She would have no choice.
She turned Bella back in the direction of Ravenstone. On arriving, she discovered she had a visitor. It was over, she was sure. She would confess. She had Dixon take her to the drawing room ready to face the magistrate.
Instead, Mr. Gordon stood as she entered and her surprise quickly turned to anger. As Dixon placed her on the settee, she noticed the vicar was wearing his cassock. He would need God’s protection now, for she would surely kill him herself.
“Mr. Gordon,” she said as he seated himself again. “How good of you to call on me at such an early hour.”
“Not too early, I hope.”
“No, not at all. As you see, I have already been for my morning ride.”
They waited for Dixon to leave the room. Then the smile on her face disappeared, replaced by a scowl.
“You have betrayed me,” she said angrily.
“Please, Lady Fairchild,” he said. “It was not I.”
“Then, where were you last night?”
“I was called away as one of my parishioners was dying. I was on my way to meet my men, when I was forced to change direction or risk exposure. Your boys should have left as my men did.”
He emphasized the word ‘boys’ like an insult.
“My boys,” she hissed angrily, “could all have been killed last night, and you want me to believe you and your men escaped the same fate by mere chance?”
“God protects me,” he said. “I have nothing to fear.”
“God better protect you at a much closer distance, Mr. Gordon, for I believe you no longer want to share the proceeds of our enterprise, and planned to rid yourself of my boys and so convince me to give up. But I assure you, Mr. Gordon, should I lose one more, I will hand you over to Major Price myself. Do I make myself clear?”
“Quite,” he said, the word clipped.
“If not you, then who?” she asked.
“I’m sure I do not know.”
“Was it Madden?” she asked.
“He was upset by his loss of income,” he said and, standing up, continued. “I am afraid I must hasten away for I have urgent business in town.”
“You are a coward, Mr. Gordon. Know that I am not persuaded of your innocence and I mean to learn the truth. Do not think me ill-qualified to do you harm should I discover you were indeed the instrument of last night’s deceit.”
“I know my innocence will speak for itself.”
Giving her a small bow, he left.
She did not believe him. He may not have informed the excise men of the smugglers’ whereabouts, but he had avoided the night’s work. He knew someone was going to inform on them.
The only other person she could think of was Mr. Madden and he was upstairs in her husband’s bed. She had been surprised that he had not visited her on finding out that he would no longer be receiving the revenue from the smugglers. She had expected an angry Mr. Madden to show up at Ravenstone and demand an explanation. But he had not. She had not seen him except through the window, in her husband’s arms. Perhaps Mr. Madden preferred his vengeance served from a distance.
At dinner that night, she sat at the table with the rest of the guests and watched him. He smiled at her politely from across the table, giving nothing away, and she had to admire his skill at pretense. He was neatly dressed and shaved, his cravat tied exactly like her husband’s. She turned to look at the rest of the men and women gathered and wondered how many of them knew. Probably all, she thought, as she placed a slice of peach in her mouth. They were her husband’s close friends.
Lord and Lady Coverdale were as lavishly dressed as her husband. The rich fabrics of Lady Coverdale’s dress were better suited for eveningwear, but Georgiana had never known her to wear anything that was not eye-catching, and brilliant in color. Georgiana liked her well enough and found her easy company.
The only other lady present was Mrs. Collins. She sat stiff-backed and scowling next to her husband, a wealthy son of a banker whom no gentleman could afford to snub, and so they traveled in society. The other gentlemen present, three in all, were young dandies with too much money and time. They were all colorful and smiling, all except Mrs. Collins, who probably wore her somber black in protest of the company.
She kept to her rooms or strolled in the gardens by herself, refusing the company of Lady Coverdale, whose scandalous reputation offended her finer sensibilities. She was also offended by Georgiana, and refused to speak more than a word or two to her. She was perhaps the only one present who did not know about Edward’s preferences in bed partners.
The door opened and Georgiana glanced nervously at Elton, who entered and whispered something in Edward’s ear. They had come for her. Her eyes clung to Edward, waiting for him to frown at Elton’s words, but instead he smiled and shook his head. Elton left again, closing the door, and she sighed in relief.
“How was your ride this morning?” Lady Cloverdale asked, noticing her nervousness.
“Brisk,” Georgina said and smiled at her.
“I do not know how you manage such an early hour.”
“She does not stay up until three in the morning drinking and playing cards,” Mrs. Collins said disapprovingly.
“No, I imagine not,” she smiled at Georgiana.
“Scandalous behavior,” Mrs. Collins scowled.
Lady Cloverdale pushed her plate aside, and took from her reticule her pipe. She stuffed it with tobacco and Dixon arrived with a light for her. Mrs. Collins stood up suddenly and left the table, her face set into its deep lines of disapproval.
“I find a good pipe always keeps the flies away,” Lady Cloverdale said haughtily, as she took her first puff. “I do find it fascinating how often those outside of society are so keen to adhere to its strict code, despite the fact that those in society will not even recognize them most of the time.”
Georgiana marveled at Lady Cloverdale’s daring, which far outdid even her own. She seemed not to care in the least whom she offended, and acted precisely as she wanted all the time. She stayed up late with the rest of the guests, playing cards and usually won, Georgiana had heard.
“Tell me,
Lady Fairchild,” she said between puffs. “I understand you are not given much to the code of society.”
“I fail to understand the code or its importance except as a method to keep the female sex enslaved to the whim of men and their boorish behavior.”
The male guests turned to look at her, but said nothing.
“It’s too bad you don’t play cards,” Lady Cloverdale said and smiled. “Would you take the air with me tomorrow?”
***
Georgiana sat on the bench where Dixon had seated her, waiting to play her part as a good hostess. She decided to relax and enjoy the day for it might prove to be her last. She observed Rupert hiding behind a shrub. The governess soon arrived in search of him for it was time for his lessons. She already knew the places he chose to hide and soon had him by the ear and led him away. When he tried to kick her, despite his precarious position, she merrily stepped out of the way and continued down the path, ignoring his bad behavior.
“Now, there is a woman I admire,” Lady Cloverdale said, finally arriving in the garden.
“Yes,” Georgiana sighed. “She has proven to be rather valuable in dealing with Rupert.”
“Your tone makes it sound like you are not fond of her.”
Lady Coverdale was astute. Georgiana sighed. “She keeps asking for more money, or she threatens to leave. Could I so easily replace her, I would.”
“Ah, blackmail,” she laughed and sat down next to Georgiana. “How quaint. Tell me, is your cook blackmailing you too? I am surprised you have not had her replaced long ago.”
“Cook is my mother’s spy and keeps her well informed of goings on here.”
“I should think that’s the reason to have her leave, not to retain her.”
“True, but I know of Cook’s treacherous behavior, and know to be wary of her and what I say in her company. Were I to replace her, my mother might find another in the household whom I do not know. That could prove a disadvantage.”
Lady Cloverdale laughed. “Dear Lord, such intrigue and I thought the country dull. It is too bad you must suffer such digestive torture for it, though.”
Raven's Shadow (Book 2, the Ravenstone Chronicles) Page 1
