Wendy Soliman

by Duty's Destiny

  “I was coming to that, my lord. It was, in fact. my main reason for coming to you with this story.” Smithers hesitated. “You see, the vessel was one from the Western Line.”

  Felix and his father leapt from their chairs simultaneously. “What?” The earl spilt Madeira down his immaculate coat. “Impossible!”

  “I fear not, my lord. That’s why I wished to discuss the matter with you in person.”

  “Which ship and who was the master?”

  Smithers told him.

  “Impossible,” repeated the earl. “That man has been with me for more than twenty years. I would stake my life on his honesty and loyalty.”

  “I agree, my lord. We suspect that the boat upon which the slave was due to be transported was one that we’ve since discovered required extensive repairs before making the return voyage. We think Barker must have been running out of time to deliver the person in question, and so a new crew member on your ship, picked up in the Indies, was bribed to smuggle the man on board your vessel.”

  “I suppose it would be possible.” Felix looked at his father as he spoke. “Presumably the man was hidden in the hold with the cargo?”

  “That is our understanding, my lord.”

  “Well, there you are then. Damned uncomfortable, I should think, but I doubt if that caused the smugglers much concern.” The earl looked angrier than Felix could ever before recall seeing him. “I’m not prepared to tolerate my vessels being used for such a purpose, however unintentionally.”

  “That is what I expected you to say, my lord.”

  “So, what can we do to take this Barker in charge and put an end to his foul trade?”

  “Well, therein lies the difficulty. He’s very artful, and carefully covers his tracks. He appears to work through a series of ever-changing intermediaries and thus no blame can be laid at his door on the present evidence. Believe me, my lords, I know, for I’ve investigated the situation most thoroughly.”

  “Tell me more about the man himself,” the earl said. “If we can understand him better then perhaps a method of defeating him will become apparent.”

  “Samuel Barker, aged fifty, was married for twenty years to a lady of Russian extraction.” Smithers spoke with the air of a man who knew his subject well. “The marriage appeared to be happy and Barker’s smuggling operation at that time must have been small, for it didn’t come to our attention. But his wife died about eight years ago and after that things changed drastically. He has two sons, both of whom work with him and who are cowed by his authoritative manner. He’s a bully and a tyrant, but not without charm when it suits his purpose to deploy it. His weakness, if he has one, is his desire to be accepted into good society. He throws money in all the right directions, and makes free with the names of his aristocratic connections at every opportunity. Both his sons married women of his choosing, from good but impoverished families. They all live under Barker’s roof, at Southview Manor.”

  Smithers paused to sip at his drink. “Barker also has a third child. His youngest is a daughter, and by all accounts she was his favourite.”

  “Was?”

  “So I’m given to understand. He was equally strict with her, but as she so closely resembled his wife, he was also indulgent toward the girl. Saskia, I believe she’s called. Her mother died when the girl was fifteen. Not one year later Barker forced Saskia into a marriage with a Captain Eden, the master of a cutter we suspect Barker wanted to add to his fleet — hence his choice to force his daughter to marry a man twenty years her senior.”

  Felix and his father exchanged a glance. “And is the marriage a happy one?” the earl asked.

  “I know not, my lord, but I do know that it was exceedingly short. Not six months after it took place, Eden and his craft were lost in a storm in the Atlantic.”

  “Good!” Felix said, unsure why he cared.

  “But this is the interesting part,” Smithers said. “Six months after that, Saskia gave birth to Eden’s twins, and a mere three months thereafter she left Barker’s house and has never returned there. No one seems to know why.”

  “Where did she go?” Felix asked.

  “She lives with her widowed aunt, Barker’s sister — a Mrs. Rivers — in her house in Swyre, three or four miles east of Burton Bradstock. That was six years ago, and as far as I can ascertain she has had no contact with her father since that time.”

  “Hmm, interesting.” The earl studied his hands as he digested this information. “What can have caused the rift, I wonder?”

  “That, I cannot say, my lord. I do know however that when Mrs. Eden removed to her aunt’s home, she, the aunt that is, was a lady of independent means. But since then her circumstances have undergone a marked change, and her home, Riverside House, has been turned into a hotel. Mrs. Eden and her aunt take in paying guests.”

  “Good heavens!” The earl stared at Smithers. “Are you telling me that this indulged young lady, who was presumably accustomed to the best of everything, is now reduced to being nothing more than a glorified landlady? And the father who supposedly loves her so much has done nothing to rescue her? How would that look to the local nobility he’s so intent upon ingratiating himself with?”

  “I’m unable to say, my lord, and neither can I ascertain that she’s requested any assistance from her father.”

  Felix, who’d been lost in contemplation, found his voice again. “But don’t you see? That could be how Barker does it.”

  “What do you mean, Felix?”

  “Well, the aunt, taking in the daughter and opening up her house to strangers all of a sudden. Rather an odd thing to do, wouldn’t you say, unless the family was creating an opportunity for the daughter to act as a go-between without exciting curiosity?”

  The earl nodded. “It is certainly a possibility, I suppose.”

  “It seems perfectly obvious to me.”

  “Have a care, Felix. It doesn’t do to jump to conclusions, especially when the people involved are strangers. There may be a perfectly rational explanation.”

  “If the woman’s husband owned a cutter, then he must have left her provided for. If she had a disagreement with her father, why not move right away from the district instead of staying so close at hand?” Felix shook his head. “It makes no sense. She must be involved.”

  “I concur with your observations, my lord.” Smithers bowed in Felix’s direction. “The idea had not previously occurred to me, as it most assuredly should have done.”

  “Father, we can’t allow this despicable trade to continue, and certainly can’t countenance the use of our vessels for such a purpose. Allow me to go to Swyre and register as a guest at Riverside House. Let me see what I can make of it, firsthand.”

  “Out of the question, Felix.”

  “But, Father, consider!” Agitated, Felix stood and paced the room. “I cannot abide the thought of people profiting from such human misery. But for a woman to so blatantly involve herself — a woman who is a mother herself, moreover — is quite simply beyond the pale.” Felix’s pacing became more agitated, lending proof to the depth of his feeling. “We cannot, as gentlemen of principle, allow this man’s business to continue. You must permit me to do this, Father. I consider it to be my duty.”

  “Your duty, or your destiny, Felix?”

  “It makes little difference. It’s simply something I must do.”

  “Use your sense, Felix. Even if I were to permit it, you can hardly go barging into this place as Lord Western. Everyone there would know who you were in an instant.”

  “Exactly, Father, and that’s why I shall go as…now, let me see, who shall I be?” Felix paused, sensing that his father’s resistance was weakening. “I know, why not a Mr. Beaumont — an agent from Bristol looking for, shall we say, certain commodities on behalf of my various wealthy clients? That should excite Barker’s interest, if he’s as keen on climbing the social ladder as Smithers believes to be the case.”

  “Not in that coat, I think,” the earl said,
chuckling as he ran his eyes over Felix’s superbly-cut merino wool coat.

  “I shall take Perkins with me. I’m sure he will be able to find clothing more suitable for my purpose.”

  Still, the earl hesitated. “I’m not at all sure about this, Felix. These men must be exceedingly ruthless.”

  “Quite so, my lord.” Smithers nodded vigorously. “We believe the man we rescued was shot by Barker’s own men when we intervened and he was unable to escape.”

  The earl and Felix both frowned at Smithers — for very different reasons.

  “We must think of another way,” the earl said forcefully.

  “You have my assurance that I will take the greatest possible care, Father.”

  “Anyway, we don’t know definitely that the daughter has any involvement at all. If that were the case, surely their meeting one another wouldn’t go unnoticed? So you would be risking your life for naught.”

  “Possibly, but I, for one, find it hard to believe in such a convenient coincidence. It must, at the very least, be investigated. Do I have your approbation, Father?”

  “If I give it to you, have you considered what I’m to tell your mother?”

  “When I miss Christina’s betrothal party and the opportunity to escort Lady Maria in to dinner, do you mean?” Felix pinioned his father with a speaking look.

  The earl regarded his son for a long time. “All right, Felix,” he said, “but we must set up some form of reliable communication. I must know at all times what’s going on, and be in a position to send immediate assistance in the event that it becomes necessary.”

  “That’s a comforting thought.” He refilled their glasses. “Stay and dine with us, Smithers, and we’ll plot our strategy.”

  Chapter Three

  TWO DAYS AFTER THE MEETING with Smithers, Felix and his valet Perkins set out for Weymouth. They travelled by post, not wishing to draw attention to themselves by arriving in any conveyance connected to the Westerns.

  Perkins, who’d been with Felix for only a couple of years, and who wasn’t much older than his master, was delighted by the prospect of participating in what he perceived of as a famous escapade. He dismissed the likely dangers with youthful disregard for his own safety. Before their departure Perkins had managed to equip Felix with clothing suitable for a gentleman agent, and he was now the proud possessor of two valises full of such items.

  At Weymouth, Felix and Perkins left the post and separated, giving no indication that they were connected. Weymouth was bustling with activity, the constant arrival of vessels being largely responsible for the transient population. But Felix still considered it a relatively small community, and someone as well connected in the area as Barker was likely to be kept informed of any unusual arrivals.

  By prior agreement Perkins took himself off to an indifferent livery stable and hired a saddle horse. He was to ride directly to Burton Bradstock and take a room at the Dove Inn, a well-known rendezvous for smugglers. He would pose as an itinerant, and integrate himself with the customers on the pretext of looking for any type of work, making it clear that he wasn’t too particular if it was legal. Perkins was personable, young, and strong, qualities that would doubtless be advantageous to his cause.

  At Weymouth, Felix called at a slightly superior livery stable and hired a curricle and two mediocre horses. He asked directions to Swyre and set the horses to a leisurely trot on the appropriate road, falling into contemplation about all he was likely to encounter when he reached his destination. This led to thoughts of Saskia Eden, whose complicity in Barker’s exploits Felix didn’t doubt for a moment. In spite of his father’s advice that he show caution, Felix was convinced that he knew better, and he was determined to put a stop to the woman’s evil exploits, once and for all.

  He slowed the horses to a walk as he turned them into the driveway leading to Riverside House. The gravel, he noticed, was overdue for raking, but light woodland on either side prevented him from gaining an impression of the house itself until he turned the final corner and was almost upon it. It was a large, angular building perched near the edge of a bluff with, Felix imagined, a fine prospect over the bay. Before he could discern anything else about the place, a cat cut across the drive in front of his horses, spooking them, and he was obliged to apply his complete attention to his team.

  By the time he regained control, he’d drawn to a halt at the front of the steps. To his considerable surprise, no groom or footman came running to take the horses, nor did the front door open to offer him admittance. Felix scratched his head, wondering what sort of hotel left arriving guests to fend for themselves. With a resigned sigh, he alighted from his curricle, leaving it where it stood. The horses fell to cropping an untidy patch of grass to the left of the steps, which Felix ascended, still expecting at any moment to be greeted with a profusion of apologies for the delay.

  No one appeared.

  He rang the bell…

  And waited.

  He’d rung three times before the door finally creaked open — but no one was there. It was a moment before a movement caused him to glance downwards…which was when he observed two small heads sporting identical red curls glancing curiously up at him.

  Saskia Eden’s day started badly and was getting progressively worse. She had risen at her habitual early hour, only to enter the kitchen and find it completely deserted and as cold as the grave. Not only had that wretched new girl allowed the range to go out, in spite of Saskia’s dire warnings as to the consequences if she were careless enough to permit such an eventuality, but she’d obviously overslept as well. Saskia had to waste precious time raking over the ashes in the damned range and coaxing it back to life. Then, stepping into the kitchen garden, she’d been horrified to discover that the coop door had been left unlatched and a fox had killed one of their precious hens. That new girl again!

  Saskia restored order, holding on to her patience by the merest sliver, and breakfast had somehow been served on time. But now she was about to serve afternoon tea, only to discover that the new girl, trusted to bake scones on cook’s one precious afternoon off, had carelessly allowed them to burn. It was the last straw, and Saskia was seriously beginning to wonder if the girl had been planted in the house deliberately, to exacerbate the demise of their business. Goodness only knew, her father had tried everything else.

  She dismissed the idea almost at once, feeling slightly guilty. Betty was a little simple, that was all, and her family had been pathetically grateful that she’d been given this chance of employment. Huh, what choice did they imagine that Saskia and her aunt had in the matter? After all, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Saskia’s father had effectively banned anyone half-decent from working at Riverside House, and he wielded sufficient influence in the area to make people take his threats seriously.

  Saskia felt ready to explode as she acknowledged this truth, a familiar feeling of injustice fuelling her anger. How petty-minded could one man be when it came to getting his own way? It was, Saskia acknowledged, hardly a question she needed to ask herself, being well aware that he didn’t care to be bested by anyone, least of all his own flesh and blood. She’d long ago accepted that he was never likely to give up on her. It was her birthday soon. Doubtless she would receive a curt letter from him, just as she did every year, asking if she was yet ready to beg his forgiveness and return home. Welcoming the renewed sense of purpose that surged through her, Saskia squared her shoulders. Never!

  But was she being selfish? Look at the dire straits she’d reduced her beloved aunt to, through her stubbornness: she had burst uninvited into her well-ordered, comfortable household and turned it on its head. But the older lady had never uttered so much as one word of complaint. What’s more, she had refrained from asking Saskia any awkward questions about the circumstances surrounding her arrival and the rift with her father. Instead, she constantly reassured her niece that things would eventually improve. She wouldn’t hear of Saskia leaving, and insisted that she adored having her niece a
nd the twins in her house, claiming they made her feel young again. In the early days, when Saskia’s father had arrogantly assumed she would return home defeated, Aunt Serena had been a tower of strength. Robust, aggressive and protective, she stoically rebuffed her brother’s attempts to snatch the ailing Saskia away by force.

  When Aunt Serena had subsequently been reduced to taking in paying guests, Saskia thought to improve their income and reduce her feelings of guilt by taking on their guests’ laundry and mending, meaning to attend to those duties herself. But that was not to be, either. Aunt Serena seized upon the mending, saying it was just the occupation she’d been seeking. How clever of Saskia to think of it; she could sit quite comfortably in the window embrasure and not be the least put out.

  The woman was a saint!

  And then there was the question of the twins. Yet another wave of guilt swept through Saskia, as she contemplated the advantages she deprived her children of by not returning to her father’s household. Josh could be enrolled at a good school, and Amy would benefit from the attentions of a governess. Saskia didn’t doubt for a moment that her father would provide unstintingly for her children’s education. Was she being fair to deprive them in such a way? In her father’s house they would be assured of good clothing and…and what else?

  Saskia continued to ponder the question as she worked, her swift, economical movements punctuated by a lithe grace. The twins had schooling now, of sorts, quite sufficient for them at their age. And surely it was better for them not to be separated when they were still so young? And as for clothing, well, Aunt Serena’s needle was never idle. She was constantly making pretty new pinafores and petticoats for Amy, waistcoats and shirts for Josh. And in Aunt Serena’s house Saskia was secure in the knowledge that her children were surrounded by an abundance of love and the freedom to grow, without the threat of someone else’s will being imposed upon them.

  Heartened by the knowledge that all the money in the world could never replace such comforts, and resolving anew not to permit her father to win, Saskia knocked together a new batch of scones and was wearily removing them from the stove when the kitchen door flew open. The twins came bursting through it like a whirlwind, arms and legs flailing at seemingly impossible angles, disorderly red hair flying loose around Amy’s shoulders. Hoskins, their wiry little terrier dog, leapt at their heels.