“I fight with myself everyday not to come here,” he said sadly. “Today I lost that fight. I’m sorry.”
She wanted to cry suddenly because he seemed so broken by his own admission, but she smiled instead, knowing that her eyes were filling with tears despite her best efforts.
“I’m not sorry,” she said finally, her eyes on his and she kissed him, a long deep kiss she stored deep in her memory for the lonely nights to come. They made love again and it was urgent and frenzied, and she wondered would it always be like that between them.
They did not sleep, but spent the night gazing at each other, and whispering small notions that did not matter much, because the bigger notions could not be said, without tearing the fabric of their small world apart. She followed the thin scars on his back like a map and discovered the soles of his feet were ticklish, for he pulled them quickly away if she touched him there. She explored him with her hands, holding him and feeling the blood flood into him, making him hard, and she marveled at how she could do that to him. He showed her how to stroke him, and she used her tongue on him, enjoying his reaction when she took him in her mouth. It did not take long before he came, and she tasted him.
He followed the scars on her legs with his finger, and asked her if it still hurt sometimes. Only when it was cold and she was tired, she told him. He kissed her on the back of her neck, and she shivered at the sensation of the stubble on his checks, touching her delicate skin. He apologized, but she said she liked his touch, so he kissed her again making her smile. He found the smaller scars at her wrists, and kissed them, then turned to look at her.
“Why?”
“The usual reason, I think,” she said. “I was unhappy.”
His finger traced a path along her collarbone, and he lowered his eyes from hers. “Was it because you loved him?”
“Who?” she asked.
“The man who was your first,” he said watching her again. “The man who left you unable to love me?”
She should tell him Edward was the first. She turned away from him, curling up on her side. She did not want to lie to him and she could not tell him the truth because he would come to hate her. Not at first, perhaps. He would be sufficiently sympathetic at first, perhaps even loving. But slowly over time, his feelings would change as he saw more clearly that she was used and broken. It was an irrational thought, she knew, and still her fear lingered despite how many times she had dismissed it.
She knew that he felt shut out, and that her silence only widened the distance that stood like a gulf between them. She felt shame crawling under her skin, and she despised herself because she could not talk about it, even did she want to. Not with him. He might not understand that she had tried everything in her power to get away from her father.
She still had doubts, and so would Nicholas. It was doubt that would finally convince him she was not worth loving anymore, that somehow she was corrupted like her father. That she had wanted his attentions. Doubt was like an old friend to her, and it was with her now, sitting next to her on the bed.
“You cannot even speak of him,” Nicholas said softly. “You love him still, then.”
She heard the hurt in his words, could feel him withdraw from her. It was better this way, she thought.
“I must go,” she heard him say, and she nodded, not trusting her voice.
He dressed and kissed her shoulder before climbing back out of the window. She cried herself to sleep only to wake an hour later, screaming as she felt her father’s hand touch her thigh. It took her a while to realize that she had been dreaming, and she cursed at the knowledge that even now her father could still reach her.
4
Morris soon had the new boys trained on the sails and able to swim to shore without fear of drowning. Georgiana discovered that the cottage on the hill above the bay did indeed still belong to Ravenstone. The boys cleaned the interior and rebuilt the chimney. With a new roof, and furnishings from the manor house attic, the dwelling had become a new home to them.
To disguise their real purpose, Morris and his crew had to learn to fish. This turned out to be much harder than expected. Casting the nets and reeling them in was easy. Knowing the currents and finding the fish was a skill passed on from one generation of fisherman to the next. The instinct somehow born in fishermen was harder to replicate. Peter decided they would have to go to work with some local fishermen to learn their trade. This delayed their plans but Georgiana knew the crew risked capture their first week out if their efforts seemed inauthentic.
Georgiana spent her days with Grace, going over her catalogue of books, or with Mrs. Bristow who had twice already caught Amy stealing the silver. Amy had also managed to bring both Elizabeth and Anna to tears.
Elizabeth had tried to show the new girl a kindness by letting her borrow a dress, but Amy had sold the garment in the village, and then denied she had ever borrowed it. Anna had confronted the girl, calling her a liar, at which point Amy launched herself at Anna, hitting her and pulling her hair out. Now, Mrs. Bristow stood in the study with a sullen Amy, waiting for the lady of the house to dismiss the girl.
“Could I have a moment alone with her, Mrs. Bristow?” Georgiana asked.
Surprised by the request, Mrs. Bristow nevertheless departed, closing the door behind her. Georgiana studied Amy, wondering if Peter was right, that she could not help everyone. Amy was a pretty girl, once she had been washed and her hair combed neatly. She had large eyes that quickly scanned the room for valuables and exits. Georgiana watched Amy as she studied the letter opener as a possible useful weapon.
A stubborn lift of the chin completed the picture of a girl who had to be strong to survive, and now did not know how to stop fighting everything and everyone just to stay alive. She glared at Georgiana.
“Amy, what am I to do with you?” she asked.
“Ye can’t let me go,” she said angrily.
“I can.”
“I’ll tell.”
“What exactly?”
“About the boys.”
“What about them?”
She looked uncertain for a minute then said, “That they is here.”
“They are supposed to be here,” she said evenly. “They work for me in the fields. Right now they are in the far north field, removing some dead trees.”
She stood looking resentful and angry.
“What do you want from life, Amy?”
She received a sullen shrug.
“You left London for a reason, I think,” Georgiana said. “You wanted more than those filthy streets could give you.”
Amy did not disagree.
“I don’t like housework,” Amy said finally. “It’s dull here.”
Georgiana smiled, imagining that after the streets of London, the countryside was dull.
“What is it you want to do?”
Amy shrugged again.
“The village has an inn, The Bell Inn, do you know it?”
She nodded.
“How about working there? You would see a lot more people, travelers mostly, but also the locals.”
Amy seemed to like the idea, but she seemed suspicious of it too. She did not trust anyone or anything.
“Why?”
“I want to help you,” she said. “But you are also right to be wary. I want you to do something for me.”
“What?”
“Get me information.”
“’bout what?”
“I don’t know, yet. Just keep your ears open, listen to people’s conversations, pay attention to who they are and why they are there. Can you do that without getting yourself dismissed?”
She nodded. “And you won’t call no constable to takes me away?”
“No.”
“’ow am I to get this position? They won’t just take me.”
“Leave that to me.”
Amy thought about it for a moment, and then she nodded.
“Excellent. You will buy back the dress you owe Anna, and then come see m
e again. Could you send in Mrs. Bristow? I will inform her that I am dismissing you. You will stay here until you go to the inn, and Amy, do leave the silverware and staff unharmed, please.”
***
“It is madness.” Mr. Gordon sat gazing at her. He took another sip of his tea, taking a gulp as if it was liquor, and he needed it.
“That’s why it will work,” she said. “They won’t suspect us.”
“You propose to take the contraband right through the village under everyone’s noses, and with the boats coming into the harbor, and the customs house right there.”
“The other smugglers are fishermen as well. They come and go every day from that harbor, and I have never seen a customs official look closely at them, because they stink of fish. You know it will work.”
“And where do you propose we store this contraband?”
“Why, in the rectory, of course.”
She thought he was going to call her mad again, but instead he laughed. “Lady Fairchild, I do believe you are the most daring female I have ever met.”
“Then you’ll do it?” she asked.
“Of course, I’ll do it. But what of the Dragoons housed in the village?”
“They are only there in the day and out on patrol at night, looking for us in the countryside and watching for signal fires. If they are too close, we send up a signal fire as a decoy. George is our best rider, so he can do that part. What we need is someone in the village in a place where everyone gathers and talks comfortably to warn us if any of the Dragoons stays behind for some reason. We need a spy in the center.”
“You have someone in mind?”
“I do, yes, a young girl in most desperate need of a position, but whom I can trust. I do believe a word from the vicar himself would be most charitable, don’t you?”
“And what if we are discovered? I take a great risk having the contraband in the rectory.”
“I believe it was I who took the risk last time, was it not? I think it is your turn now.”
“You were most fortunate,” he said. “How is it you managed to have no consequences from that, Lady Fairchild?”
She did not think that telling Mr. Gordon of Major Price’s knowledge of the smuggling of contraband would do much to set his mind at ease.
“Being highborn does have a few advantages,” she said lightly.
“And yet you were so adamant previously that should the contraband be found on your property, it would not go well for you.”
“It was a fear that did not come to pass. I suppose I need not have been so concerned.”
“Indeed, no. I, on the other hand, not being so highborn, will face dire consequences.”
“Mr. Gordon, certainly you do not believe you can get away with smuggling forever. Most do get caught, eventually. Have you not set aside a sum for that day, so you may begin a new life elsewhere?”
“That is a good point, Lady Fairchild, and in the spirit of attaining the said sum, I believe I shall require a greater share of the proceeds this time.”
Damn the man and his greed, and damn her for having fallen so neatly into his hands. She poured herself another cup of tea to give herself time to think. She would simply refuse.
She took a sip of her tea and said evenly, “You are overlooking the fact that it is I who have proposed our new route and should therefore be receiving more. However, in the spirit of preserving our good working relationship, I will agree to give you half, and pretend I did not hear your previous statement.”
He studied her for a moment and setting his cup down, he stood and moved a few paces to the window to glance out at the garden.
“How does your husband manage to control you, Lady Fairchild? I am quite in awe of his skill in that regard, and yet I had never taken him for anything but a fop, not to be taken seriously. Had I not met the lovely Lady Georgiana Fairchild, I would have continued to think of him as nothing more than an inconsequential being. But you astounded me from the first, and continue to do so. Does he know of your agreement with me?”
“Are you attempting to blackmail me, Mr. Gordon?”
“Let’s just call it a warning,” he said, and smiling, he sat down next to her.
“A rather empty threat, don’t you think, since I will only reveal your own involvement?”
“Which could be seen as a mere form of revenge,” he laughed. “Women can be so cruel when they are vexed, wouldn’t you agree?”
“He might believe you, and then again, he might not.”
“True,” he said, and lifting her hand to his mouth, he kissed it, his eyes meeting hers.
He was taking a great liberty, and there was precious little she could do about it. He was showing her, as a woman, how vulnerable she really was.
“Then do it,” she said smiling, and took her hand back. “Tell him.” Her heartbeat was galloping as she sat calmly next to him, refusing to give in to his intimidation. “I will deal with the consequences, but I will not be so manipulated.”
“You are far too clever for me, I am afraid,” he said and sighed.
She felt herself relax, but only slightly. He had given in too easily, and her mind focused on this fact. Did Edward already know?
“You wear an unusual perfume, Lady Fairchild,” he said. “I detect orange blossom.”
She thought carefully about why he should mention her scent.
“It brings back a memory I have of a ball, a lovely night, and a beautiful, mysterious young woman. She appeared but for an evening before vanishing never to be heard from again. I wonder, does the perfume have a name?”
“I don’t know,” she said, concerned at this sudden new interest of his. “It was a gift and I do not pay much attention to such trifles.”
“I see,” he smiled. “And you have perhaps an idea of where the scent may be purchased?”
“As I have already told you, it was a gift.”
He studied her, lifting a hand to her short hair, but she leaned away from him.
“Dorothea would certainly be vexed were she to hear you behave in such a forward manner toward me,” Georgiana warned. “I believe she would certainly make your place in society more complicated were she to discover such disgrace. You know how servants talk.”
He laughed, but would not be put off. Thankfully, the drawing room door opened and Grace entered, to witness the vicar’s closeness. Mr. Gordon stood and bowed to her, then moved to sit opposite Georgiana as was expected. She gave Grace a thankful smile, realizing that the woman was proving to be a godsend.
Mr. Gordon returned to his appropriate demeanor as vicar, but she still felt uneasy around him. He did not stay much longer, and made no more threats with Grace present. Then he departed with a polite bow shortly thereafter.
“You should have called me to join you,” Grace said after he left.
“I realize my mistake now, but had not thought the vicar would behave so reproachfully.”
“One does not, I suppose, expect such deportment from a vicar,” Grace said and frowned. “He is, however, an unusually good-looking man.”
Georgiana smiled at the comment, “Yes, he has the ladies quite enamored of him.”
“How peculiar that he is not married.”
Georgiana wondered if Grace herself was thinking of the vicar for herself, but then dismissed it.
“I must thank you, Grace, for coming to live here, for since your arrival, the food has been so much improved, and your help with the staff has been invaluable.”
Grace smiled shyly, but Georgiana could see she was pleased with the comment, and soon Mr. Gordon and his strange behavior were forgotten as they spoke of other matters. She enjoyed Grace’s company. She was intelligent and knowledgeable on many subjects, and the two of them often spent the evenings talking of topics Georgiana would not have raised in company.
Once Grace had settled in at Ravenstone and realized there was no threat to her future, she had begun to blossom into a different person. The servants liked her, and Georgian
a always took that as a good sign.
Grace helped where she could make herself useful, and even Rupert liked her enough to capture her as a hostage. She did not treat James any differently than she treated Rupert, and she quickly learned Harry’s sign language. Georgiana had observed them that morning, talking with their hands flying and was unable to keep up.
She often saw Grace with little Sarah in the garden, the toddler holding onto her finger as they walked. She knew Grace was becoming attached to the little girl, and it worried her slightly. If Harry shared her concern, he did not indicate it.
***
Mr. Gordon implored the formidable Bessie of the Bell Inn to employ a young girl in need of a position. Coins were exchanged to smooth the process and by the end of the week, Amy was installed as barmaid at the inn and peace was restored in the house among the servants.
The new route through the village was far more dangerous because the tubs and bails were brought to land in the harbor, right under the view of the customs house officer. The smugglers arrived on the tide with the rest of the fishing lugs, returning with the day’s catch. The lug was identical to those owned by local fishermen, so no suspicion was cast on the boys.
After the village had settled into darkness, and the last drunk had stumbled home, the contraband was carried from the boats up the hill through the village to the vicarage. If anyone in the village heard a sound outside their doors so late, they did not investigate for they already knew that smugglers were at work.
The men had no one to fear except the Dragoons, who were neither local nor sympathetic. Their whereabouts were easily established, for the riding officer was willing to oblige with their exact position for a small fee. Amy proved invaluable as she warned the crew of every movement the Dragoons made.
Raven's Shadow (Book 2, the Ravenstone Chronicles) Page 8
