Moon Cutters

by Janet Woods

  ‘Did you miss her?’

  ‘I imagine I did at the time, but I can’t really remember her. She paid me very little attention and was almost a stranger to me. With my uncle, there’s always a price to pay. My mother chose to pay it, so that I would have an education and a good home.’

  ‘Then you owe him your gratitude, if nothing else.’

  ‘So he kept telling me.’

  ‘Where was your father?’

  ‘Adrian Taunt? You tell me.’ Her companion got to his feet, standing tall against the sky. ‘I’ve never known him, and I’ve never been able to find any record of him to say he existed. My mother told me he was a soldier of fortune who died overseas. She wouldn’t discuss him, but said he was a wastrel. That’s why I was in the house the other night – looking for papers to confirm who my father was.’

  ‘What sort of papers?’

  ‘Letters … anything really.’

  ‘Don’t you believe what you’ve been told?’

  ‘No. All my life people have been evasive about him, or avoided the subject altogether.’

  Sympathy flared in her and she placed a hand on his arm. ‘From your appearance, there is no doubt that you are related to Lord Fenmore. Does the rest matter?’

  ‘It wouldn’t, if only it hadn’t been turned into a closed subject. That piqued my curiosity.’

  ‘I think your uncle suspected you’d been in the house the other day. I find it difficult to be deceitful when I was brought up to be honest.’

  His hand closed warmly over hers for a few precious moments. ‘Honesty is layered in these parts.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘If a poor man commits a crime, he’s considered guilty until proven innocent. If he happens to be wealthy, it’s the other way round. Money is power, however it’s earned, and there are very few totally honest people around – just those who would like to be honest if they could afford to be.’

  ‘Are you telling me that your uncle is dishonest, when he’s a respected magistrate?’

  ‘Nobody can afford to be wholly honest, and I suspect you’re already closing your eyes to some things. My uncle’s good at getting the truth out of people. Don’t lie to him on my account, Miranda. He’s a powerful man and he won’t thank you for it if he finds out.’

  Her back was turned to the sea and the wind was pushing against her with powerful salty thrusts. The air seemed to be more exciting in Fletcher’s presence – more robust and sharp, and spiced with the tang of seaweed. Her loosened hair flew in all directions, crackling with tumultuous energy, so that her scalp prickled.

  She closed her eyes. ‘I’ve never been so close to the sea before.’

  He smiled and said, ‘There’s something I’d like you to experience. Will you trust me? Will you close your eyes now and keep them shut until I tell you to open them?’

  He turned her round when she closed them, and began to walk her forward towards the edge of the cliff. The tide was in because she heard the waves smashing against the base of the cliff, and it sounded louder now her eyes were closed. Her heart began to thump and her legs began to resist. ‘I’m not very good with heights.’

  They came to a halt and he slid an arm around her, to hold her against his side when she’d rather have been turned into his body. Caesar pressed against her other side, whining, pulling at her skirt as if warning her not to go any closer to the edge. He didn’t like heights, either.

  ‘When can I open my eyes?’

  A kiss landed on the corner of her mouth, then another against her ear. He whispered, ‘Now, my lovely.’

  She opened them to the sight of a clipper ship in full sail beyond the entrance to the cove, yet framed by it. Miranda’s breath left her body in one long rush as she said, ‘How lovely it is. Is it the Midnight Star?’

  ‘Aye, she’s on her way to America this voyage. I’d be sailing on her if Silas hadn’t died. Being responsible for an estate tends to tie you down … but it’s about time. How did you know her name?’

  ‘Your uncle has a painting of her in his study.’

  ‘Ah yes, I’d forgotten. He owns half of the ship.’

  She tried to get her hair under control. He laughed. ‘Leave it flying free; it reminds me of a Selkie maiden.’

  ‘What’s a Selkie?’

  ‘A creature from Scottish folklore that comes from the sea and sheds its skin so it can take on human form.’

  ‘Why should she want to do that?’

  ‘She fell in love with a human, and he fell in love with her. The last Selkie seen here was Lady Marguerite, who was plucked from that ledge below us and carried away when the sea claimed her as one of its own. See, that’s where she was seated, on that top slab above the water line where the sea doesn’t usually reach … not even in a storm.’

  Miranda looked down to where a knotted rope was pegged to the cliff face at intervals to secure wooden stretchers designed to support the feet. It led down to a series of flat rocks lying one on top of the other. With the tide already high, the oncoming waves washed over the bottom five slabs, then cascaded down into the churning sea, dragging long strands of brown seaweed with it. The sixth slab was considerably higher than the others, and there was a clearly defined high-tide mark well below it.

  She shuddered. ‘Lady Marguerite must have been brave to go down that ladder. I don’t think I’d like to be a Selkie.’

  ‘The original ladder became unsafe. My uncle put that one there. It’s maintained, and quite secure if you’re careful. It can be pulled up if needed.’

  They withdrew from the edge and watched the ship move out of their sight. The band of grey clouds had now moved above their heads. It began to rain, a soft, playful patter of drops that painted the wavering bands of sunshine around them with a silvery sheen.

  ‘Come on, it’s time to go before my uncle comes looking for you.’

  She was reluctant to part with him. ‘Must we?’

  He smiled. ‘I don’t want to part with you, either, but I was on my way into Poole when I saw you turn in here.’ He picked up her bonnet and placed it on her head, and, much like his uncle had, he tied the ribbon in a bow. Fletcher kissed her to go with it – a caress that was long and lingering to savour in her dreams.

  They walked across the bridge, and he stopped to kiss her again.

  ‘Are you going to kiss me every five minutes? If so, it will take me a long time to get back to the house,’ she said, laughing, because, if nothing else, Fletcher Taunt made her feel happy.

  Amusement filled his eyes and they narrowed, in a way that reminded her of his uncle. ‘Would you like me to?’

  ‘It would be forward of me to say I would.’

  ‘Yes, it would be. Are you going to be forward?’

  ‘Not as forward as you’d like me to be, I imagine. You are not as irresistible as your confident demeanour suggests you think you are.’

  ‘Ouch!’ He chuckled and took her hand in his. They broke into a sprint when the shower got heavier, and they were out of breath when it stopped, laughing together. As they gazed at each other, his smile faded and he lifted her hand to his mouth. ‘I’d forgotten why you were here today. I’m sorry about the demise of your parents, and apologize for intruding on you.’

  ‘It’s kind of you to say so, and to apologize. I enjoyed the time I spent with you today, and admit it took my mind off the reason I was there. I just needed to be near my mother while I thought about the situation I find myself and Lucy in.’

  Fletcher had tethered his horse up near the road. It gave a little neigh and did a dance on the spot when it set eyes on him.

  ‘May I see you again?’ he said.

  She was troubled, wondering how this would affect his uncle’s plans. ‘I’m sure we’ll meet again. Perhaps in church, where we can be introduced properly.’

  He made a face. ‘My uncle is at the Dorchester assizes all next week. We could meet here again on Tuesday. I will have finished my business in town by then.’


  She should tell him that his uncle had offered her marriage. But just because he had, it didn’t mean he had any claim on her yet. She was still trying to think of what to do. If she and Lucy left, where would they go?

  ‘Why so pensive?’ he said.

  ‘I don’t think Sir James would like me going behind his back, and I don’t want to deceive him.’

  ‘Then tell him you’ve met me, if you must. Just remember that you’re allowed some privacy, even if you are his house guest. It’s not your fault we were in the same place at the same time. I’ll be here on Tuesday, anyway. In the meantime, I’ll consider an approach to my uncle in an effort to heal the breach between us.’

  He mounted his horse and turned the handsome creature’s nose towards Poole. He turned in the saddle and waved, and suddenly it seemed a long time until Tuesday, when Miranda would see him again.

  Fletcher was thinking much the same thing as he took one last look at Miranda Jarvis before he rounded the bend and she was out of sight. He’d never met any woman who’d affected him quite so profoundly. Usually, he judged a woman by her physical attributes and her willingness to contribute to his pleasure. This young lady was something different. There was something guileless and sweet about those deep blue eyes, and his emotional reaction to her was tender rather than base. He wanted her – God, how he wanted her – but he also wanted to protect her.

  ‘Miranda,’ he whispered, tasting her name on his tongue, and he smiled when his horse’s ears swivelled back towards him. Then he laughed out loud, shouting exuberantly, ‘Miranda!’

  A thrush sounded an alarm and birds abandoned their young and flew like a panicked cloud out of the hedge, so to confuse a would-be predator. His horse sidestepped in alarm. He got the gelding under control. ‘Sorry, Rastus, but I think I’m falling in love. I am in love! With Miranda.’

  He’d shouted her name so the whole world knew, and the hedges and fields became suddenly brighter. He noticed the satiny white ladies’ smocks, golden primroses, and violets entwined like lovers in the hedges. Beyond the hedge, lambs sprang into the air and bleated in alarm for their mothers. A couple of painted lady butterflies meandered by on brown and yellow wings.

  He turned his horse round and went back at a gallop. She hadn’t got very far, and she turned to gaze at him, a half-smile on her face and her cornflower eyes filled with curiosity as well as laughter.

  ‘I forgot to tell you something,’ he said, leaping from the horse on to the ground. He blurted it out like a youth in the first throes of passion. ‘I’ve fallen in love with you.’

  He hadn’t known that a woman’s eyes could open quite so wide and capture the sky in their depths. Worriedly, he asked her, ‘What do you think?’

  From the woods came the clear fluting call of a bird. It was the first call from that particular bird he’d heard this year, and it couldn’t have been more apt for the occasion with its mocking cuckoo … cuckoo … cuckoo!

  For a moment she stared at him, startled, and then her lips twitched and she began to giggle.

  He felt like the fool he was. ‘It’s not funny.’

  ‘Don’t you like being in love?’

  ‘I don’t know; it’s something new to me. I haven’t come to terms with it yet.’

  ‘You fell in love rather quickly and it seems to have stunned you. I won’t hold you to it, as you obviously have an impulsive nature. Think about it a little longer, if you would.’

  He slanted his head and grinned at her. ‘I have no need to.’

  ‘Do so, anyway, Fletcher.’ The giggle she gave turned into laughter – not a titter behind her hand, or a stutter, but a full-blooded belly laugh that had her arms cradled over her middle and her hands clutching her elbows.

  When Caesar lifted his snout and howled into the wind, she laughed even more.

  Eventually, she stopped, though her eyes still brimmed with enough amusement to make him believe it wouldn’t take much for her to start laughing all over again.

  ‘I think I feel honoured by your admission, Fletcher Taunt, and will treasure this moment for the rest of my life,’ she managed to say between leftover giggles.

  He’d wager she would, and if this affair went any further than her lighthearted rejoinder, this minx would never let him forget it, either.

  ‘Hah! There’s only one way to silence you.’

  Drawing her into his arms, he kissed her with all the love and tenderness he could muster.

  The defeated little sigh she gave afterwards and her lips seeking his to return the kiss wrenched his heart from his chest and put his manly parts on alert.

  He could either drag her under a tree, kiss her senseless and have his way with her, or play the gentleman. He had a fierce need on him and an uncomfortable ride ahead if he did the latter.

  ‘Do you know what you’ve done to me, woman?’ he grumbled.

  Her eyes gave the merest of flickers down to where his erection flaunted itself. At least her instincts were right.

  Her eyes widened as they flicked up again, and she blushed a fiery red.

  ‘Hussy,’ he said.

  She giggled and covered the blush with her hands, but he saw the gleam of her eyes through her fingers when she said drily, and with more mischief than guile in her voice, ‘I’ll also treasure this moment.’

  Nine

  Fletcher’s heart dropped as he gazed at the battered, medium-sized clipper tied to the end of a jetty in a Southampton boat yard. The air reeked of mud for the tide was almost out.

  ‘That’s the Agnes O’Dare, Oswald? You’ve brought me all this way to look over a wreck? She has hardly any rigging left and the paint is flaking. Look at her draught; someone forgot to replace the ballast when the cargo was unloaded.’

  He also noticed that her masts were raked back slightly for balance and her bowsprit had a mermaid with flowing hair.

  Miranda with her hair flowing in the wind … The image entered a space in his mind, along with her teasing departure. He smiled.

  Sir Oswald broke into his reverie. ‘If you say so, Fletcher. I have it on good authority that she’s generally sound. She needs refitting and cleaning up.’

  ‘If she’s sound, why has she been left to rot at the end of a jetty?’

  ‘The yard owner went bankrupt over a year ago and the ship was seized. Unfortunately, they didn’t secure her, and some of the sails and many of the fittings were stolen. The insurance company wants rid of it – at any price – after she failed to attract a single offer at auction.’

  They gazed at each other and Fletcher grinned. ‘Any price?’

  ‘That’s what the man said.’

  ‘Then, by all means, let’s look her over.’ The ship gave a little bob and a loud creak when they went on board, as if she was complaining over her lot. She smelled of neglect and the deck needed to be caulked here and there. They went below. The hull was dry inside and he couldn’t see any rot or wormholes. Her three masts were secured solidly to their mortises. Both planks and masts rewarded him with solid thuds when he knocked them. His heart began to beat a little faster. ‘She seems free of worm, and her hull is still coppered.’

  ‘Her log is with the agent, as is the sale. You can inspect it if you’re interested.’

  ‘I am.’ He was more than interested. He already had a strong urge to own this shabby little princess and reveal her beauty to the world.

  ‘The dinghies are missing.’

  ‘Somebody had the foresight to place them in the boatshed.’

  Fletcher grunted, trying not to sound too eager, though restoring the ship would be a worthwhile project. He found a concealed compartment under the bunk in the captain’s cabin. It was empty, but big enough to hold a couple of pounds of tea, some gold or cash. It was the captain’s prerogative to skim a little off the top for his retirement. He probably shipped his own cargo, too, especially to Melbourne, where domestic goods and ladies’ trinkets could be auctioned off for gold.

  Oswald smiled, as if satisfied wi
th Fletcher’s response. He took out a notebook and pad. ‘Let’s do a rough calculation of what she’ll cost to refit. We might as well go there with an estimate of cost, and well aware of what we’ll be up against. All the lanterns are missing to start with.’ He wrote down a sum on his pad.

  ‘At least the wheel has been left intact.’ Fletcher ran his palm over the wood.

  It was oak, and although it had lost its shine, it was well patinated from past use and only in need of some varnish. ‘She needs new paintwork, and some of her bright work is missing. She’ll have to be dry-docked to paint her hull.’

  The list grew – and so did the cost.

  Finally, they gazed at each other, and Fletcher gave his companion a wry smile. ‘I’m beginning to think it would be cheaper to buy a new ship.’

  ‘By the time it was built, this one would have earned her cost many times over.’

  ‘Can I afford it? Have we factored in the crew’s wages?’

  ‘Yes and yes.’

  Fletcher nodded. ‘I’ll offer the agent fifty pounds, but I won’t shell out more than five hundred for her.’

  Oswald chuckled. ‘This I must see. Five pounds says you won’t get it for fifty.’

  They spoke to the agent, and Fletcher presented him with a list of the ship’s defects and the cost to him. ‘It will be several months before she’s fit for work, and she’ll drain me of money in the meantime. I’m prepared to make an offer of … fifty pounds, say?’

  The agent didn’t bother to try to get more out of him.

  A little later, Oswald handed over a fiver, grumbling, ‘I’d forgotten how lucky you are.’

  ‘It’s not luck on this occasion; it’s the ability to read a situation. The agent was prepared for failure after the auction brought no result. The list of what needed doing and the estimated cost of the repairs reinforced what was already in his mind – that the ship was defective. He was so eager to get it off his books that he didn’t stop to consider. Remind me never to use that agent to represent me for anything.’