by Mary Brendan
‘Amen to that,’ Randolph muttered drily. ‘I think the captain could be overzealous if he chose to be.’
‘I shall go back to the music room,’ Harriet interjected, ‘and act as if all is well.’ The opening bars of another rousing tune could be heard coming from along the corridor and made Harriet smile in relief. ‘Mrs Pattinson, bless her, is doing us proud this evening with her performance.’ With that she set off in one direction whilst Randolph and Deborah took the other.
Deborah was soon disabused of her notion that Fred might be making a great fuss for little reason. Entering the kitchen, she found her driver ashen and visibly quivering. He was seated in a chair by the scrubbed pine table and the Davenports’ elderly housekeeper, Mrs Rush, was in the process of pouring him another shot of brandy whilst crossing herself with her free hand.
Fred immediately took the tot and downed it in a gulp. He gawped at his mistress with wide, terrified eyes that held a hint of apology. ‘I told you he were about, miss.’ He snuffled against his sleeve. ‘Now I seen him with me own eyes ‘n’ I know Lizzie ain’t lying.’ He rubbed his quivering palms against his cape-covered arms as though to scrub away a tormenting memory. ‘Swinging the end of the noose at me he were as though he might come ‘n’ use it on me.’ He shoved back his chair and sprang up. Having looked about for a place to flee and found none, he instead backed against the wall.
Deborah felt alarm grip her. She knew her coachman well enough; he could not act this role. His distress and shock was genuine. Something had frightened Fred almost out of his wits.
‘Come, sit down again,’ she urged hoarsely and with a gentle hand led him, quaking, back to the table.
‘Where exactly was this, Ned?’ Randolph asked. He had so far remained quiet, listening, but now came forwards and, taking the bottle of brandy, poured the coachman another small tot.
‘Up…up on the hill by…by the lichgate, sir,’ Fred stammered as he again sat down and clasped both hands about the small glass as though to steady them.
‘Did anybody else see him?’
Fred wobbled his head about. ‘Only me ‘n’ the squire’s coachman been outside tonight, sir. And squire’s man been napping in his master’s coach most o’ the time. He’s still out there now.’
‘I’ll take a look,’ was all Randolph said as he stepped past and went out of the side door leading to the stable yard.
* * *
All hope that the other guests might remain in blissful ignorance of the brouhaha was to be dashed. As Harriet entered the music room she saw at once that her brother was assisting their maid who had dropped her tray of lemonade on the floor close to the door. The pianist gamely carried on running her fingers over the keys, but as her audience’s attention dispersed, the melody faded away to nothing and Mrs Pattinson stood up.
‘What on earth is the matter with you, Dilys, to make you so clumsy?’ Gerard Davenport demanded in a low voice as he helped the young maid collect glass shards and store them on the tray. He placed a hand on her thin black-uniformed arm to find her shivering. In between snivelling out apologies the nervous girl was dabbing ineffectually with her pinafore at the pool of lemonade on the rug.
‘Ned’s about, sir,’ she croaked in an underbreath. ‘Fred Cook’s seen him right close just a moment ago.’
Harriet quickly went to help clear up the mess. She gave the maid a frown that made Dilys shrink back and press together her lips. A moment later Captain Stewart had joined the Davenports to politely enquire if he might give assistance. Hot on his heels came Susanna, her attractive features pinched in anger.
A low, sibilant conversation between husband and wife ensued as Dilys continued to quiver, collect crystal and dart saucer-eyed looks up at her employers.
‘Noose-head Ned?’ In snorting disbelief Susanna repeated the name her husband had whispered, but she’d blanched so violently that her rouged lips became a startling scarlet slash in her powdered complexion. ‘Nobody believes that daft tale.’ Her scoffing sounded shrill. A moment later she’d recovered composure and explained a bit about the local ghost to Captain Stewart, who had expressed an interest in knowing more.
Julia rose from her chair as the gist of the upset lilted in fragments to her hearing. She passed some of it on to the others, hovering close by, politely waiting for an end to the hiatus in the entertainment.
‘Come, we must leave at once,’ Mrs Pattinson told her comfortable husband. As though to propel him into action she caught at his arm and urged him up from his chair.
‘No need to panic, m’dear,’ the squire soothed as he stumbled to his feet. ‘It’s all just a ploy by those rogues to get their cargoes stashed out of sight. One of them has been covered in flour and is having a fine old time wailing and gnashing his teeth to scare us away. Busy down on the beach tonight, I’ll warrant.’ When his wife seemed unappeased by his jocularity he placated her, ‘I know you believe in the spirits, m’dear, but mark my words, Ned’s no more a ghost than I am.’
‘It is dark and late,’ his wife pointed out querulously. ‘We have quite a journey to make.’
John Pattinson gave his wife’s hand an indulgent pat. ‘I’ll tell the vicar we’re off, then. No need for you to fret, my love.’
‘I’m sure it is nothing,’ Harriet said desperately. She was severely disappointed to know that guests were leaving already. It was barely a minute after nine.
‘Perhaps we should leave too,’ Julia muttered in a quavering voice to nobody in particular. ‘I must go and find Deborah and see what sort of state Fred is in. Oh…what a to do!’
Following a brief word with his subordinate Captain Stewart announced, ‘Sergeant Booth and I will patrol the area before heading back to barracks. You may all journey home knowing you will remain safe, I promise.’ He turned to Gerard and Harriet with a smile and a bow. ‘Thank you both for a very fine evening.’
‘I’m sorry you’ve been put to such trouble, Captain,’ Harriet said, flustered. ‘Would anybody like a hot drink before departing?’ she forlornly offered, trailing in the wake of the exodus from the music room.
Moments later a congregation had formed in the vestibule and coats were being found and donned.
Deborah immediately approached her mother on noticing her agitation. ‘I’m sure it is nothing to worry about, Mama,’ she reassured quietly. ‘Mr Chadwicke has been outside and checked for trespassers. He’s questioned the Squire’s coachman and the fellow insists he’s seen and heard nothing untoward.’ Briefly Deborah broke off in her reassurance to say goodbye to the Pattinsons who were first to leave.
‘I’m not sure that Fred Cook is fit to drive you home.’ Randolph had just come in from the stable yard where he’d found Fred all ready atop the coach, but still shivering and starting at shadows. ‘It might make matters worse to give him more brandy to settle his nerves.’
‘Indeed, we must not! If he’s drunk, he’s sure to overset us in a ditch,’ Deborah muttered.
‘Oh, what a trouble he is. What are we to do?’ Julia gasped.
‘I shall drive the coach and take you home,’ Randolph quietly insisted.
‘I’m sure there’s no need, but thank you…’
‘Oh, would you do that, sir?’
Deborah’s demurral had been immediately drowned out by her mother’s relieved acceptance speech. ‘You are so kind to us. Twice now you have come to our assistance because of the wretches who infest the neighbourhood. I think the squire is right. It’s the smugglers’ intention to scare us indoors so we see and hear nothing.’
‘Surely you are heading back to Rye tonight, Mr Chadwicke, and that lies in the opposite direction to Woodville.
Place.’
Despite Randolph’s offer having been made in an undertone it seemed Captain Stewart had made it his business to hear what he’d said.
The captain flushed beneath Randolph’s withering look; nevertheless he stepped closer, brazenly unapolo-getic for having eavesdropped. His eyes lingered on Deborah
’s face although he spoke to Randolph. ‘I know you have your mount with you, too, Mr Chadwicke. It would be no trouble for me to escort the ladies’ carriage safely to Woodville Place so you might head directly towards the Woolpack on horseback.’
‘There’s no need for you to do so, Captain, I assure you,’ Randolph drawled. ‘But I’m flattered to know that, though you’ve only recently arrived in Sussex, you have taken the time to acquaint yourself with my business.’
The men locked eyes for a moment before Captain Stewart executed a jerky bow and stepped aside. He went to take his leave of their hostess who was already at the foot of the stairs. Within a moment of saying farewell Susanna was halfway up the treads as though she couldn’t be bothered with niceties for the remaining guests and was eager to retire.
‘Aren’t we lucky to have two gentlemen prepared to get us safely home?’ Julia whispered to her daughter.
Deborah’s eyes glancingly met Randolph’s mordant gaze. From that fleeting contact she gleaned some unsettling information: he was quite aware that Captain Stewart had taken a fancy to her, and he didn’t like it. Also, he had more he wanted to say to her. Beneath the hard glitter in his eyes she had recognised a burning frustration that their conversation in the drawing room had been interrupted by Fred’s hysteria. A short while ago she, too, had wanted to have some answers to puzzles that long had niggled at her; now she felt too weary to want to enter what was sure to prove to be arduous territory.
* * *
‘Will you accept the invitation to stay with Marcus and Jemma at Christmas?’
Deborah blinked at flickering flames, then swerved her eyes back to Randolph, seated opposite her by the parlour fire. She certainly had not expected him to raise that innocuous subject. She placed down her cup of warm chocolate and smiled; she was grateful that he seemed to have decided it would be inappropriate—after the shocking end to the evening—to resume a conversation that might lead to them bickering at close to midnight. The Noose-head Ned business had taken its toll on her nerves, although she had thought herself immune to its silliness. She imagined that Randolph also had not remained unaffected by the evening’s impromptu excitement, and had decided not to add to it by raising the hazardous subject of their past.
On the journey home from the vicarage, whilst Randolph had driven them, and his horse had clopped docilely behind the carriage, Fred had huddled, wide-eyed, in the corner opposite her and her mother looking like a poor, demented thing. Julia Woodville’s anxiety had seemed to escalate the longer she was in close proximity with him. Again and again her mother had shrilled that if it had not been for Mr Chadwicke’s great kindness they would be overturned in a ditch, dead by the wayside. Constantly she had peered through the carriage window into the darkness as though to ease her mind that no spectre rode alongside.
On reaching home Julia, though very agitated, had insisted that Randolph must come in and at least take some brandy before setting off for the Woolpack. Once she had arranged for his refreshment and her daughter’s chocolate to be brought to the parlour, she’d said her goodnights and gone to find Lottie to prepare her a sleeping draught.
This time Deborah had not found it an unwelcome duty to keep Randolph company whilst he took a warming tot. She had wanted to stay with him despite knowing he might immediately resume the conversation he’d started in the Davenports’ drawing room. But he had surprised and pleased her by talking about their mutual friends instead.
‘I very much hope to see Jemma and Marcus,’ she replied to his enquiry about her Christmas plans. ‘It will depend on travelling conditions in December, of course, and my mother’s health. Mine, too, I suppose.’ She gave a diffident smile. ‘I caught a very bad chill last Yuletide and spent the holiday coughing and sneezing.’ Her eyes flitted from a sleepy amber gaze. ‘It would be very wrong to take our complaints and give them to those two dear children.’ She hesitated, garnering the courage to ask, ‘Are you to join the Greshams’ Yuletide gathering in Surrey?’
‘I haven’t been invited.’
‘Oh…’ Debbie glanced at him from beneath her lengthy lashes, trying to gauge whether that meant he’d fallen out with the man who once had been his closest friend and her fiancé. She didn’t want to pry, yet had a curiosity to know.
‘Marcus isn’t aware I’m back in England,’ Randolph supplied as though he knew what she wanted to ask.
‘I have an unfinished letter for Jemma,’ Deborah told him. ‘I shall let her know that you are back, and that I have seen you and…’
‘And…?’ Randolph prompted softly as her words faded away. ‘Will you let her know that within a few hours of us being reunited I acted towards you like an uncouth lout?’
‘I think I shall let Jemma know that we met unexpectedly when you travelled to Sussex on business,’ Debbie briskly said, unsure why she’d avoided endorsing a valid description of his behaviour. Of course, since he’d forced that harsh, lecherous assault on her he’d kissed her again very sweetly, and acted the perfect gentleman in every way. ‘I’ll also let her know you’ve been most kind and helpful to us whilst in the vicinity to buy sheep,’ she finished on a dubious look.
‘I get the impression you still think that might not be the truth, Deborah,’ Randolph replied, his light tone belied by the steady scrutiny that accompanied it.
‘I…It is just I find your interest in livestock a little…out of character.’ She’d thought her wording diplomatic until she heard his response to it.
‘And you think you know my character, do you?’ he quietly jibed.
‘Touché!’ It was a muttered aside as she turned away from him to hide her expression. ‘Once I thought I did,’ she added in a barely audible voice. ‘As it turned out, of course, I never knew you at all.’
So, despite her thinking that he would courteously avoid doing so, he had cleverly turned the conversation to provoke her into making a reference to their past. She put up her chin, some of her lethargy dispersing beneath her indignation. If he wanted to issue awkward questions, she could match him with some of her own. ‘Why have you not asked me if we have been troubled by Seth Luckhurst since you last were here?’
Randolph lifted the cognac to his lips and sipped. ‘Have you been?’ he asked, replacing the glass on the table.
‘No…but I rather think you already knew that and so have not bothered to enquire. Have you warned him to stay away from me and from Woodville Place?’
‘Yes.’
That blunt answer caused Deborah to momentarily catch her breath. ‘And what did he say to that?’ she eventually asked.
‘Nothing that I could repeat to a genteel spinster…even one who is now a woman.’ His eyes mocked her though he’d kept his tone mild.
Deborah inwardly squirmed at the reminder of her wrongful claim to worldliness. ‘Have you fought over me?’ she blurted.
Randolph smiled and a finger traced the rim of his glass. ‘Do you want me to?’
‘Of course not!’ she spluttered, but a blush slashed her ivory cheekbones with colour. ‘Why did you lie when you were here before?’ she rushed on to cover her confusion. ‘I’m sure Seth was loitering out in the grounds the night you and Basham went on watch.’
‘I didn’t lie. When I returned indoors he’d gone. Why would I worry you about him for no reason? I said there was nobody out there, and nothing for you to fret over. That was the truth.’
‘You’d got wet and your knuckles were scraped. You must have had a scuffle of some sort by the stream.’
‘I see you’ve been giving it a lot of thought, Deborah. I’d like to think that’s because you’re worried about me.’ A darkly amused look slanted at her over the rim of his glass. ‘Are you?’
‘Of course,’ she whispered after a protracted quiet. ‘I’d be concerned for anybody who had dealings with those ruffians. You have only to look at what they did to Fred to know they’re mindlessly vicious.’
‘I can look after myself.’
Instinctively De
borah knew it was no idle boast, yet the admission disturbed rather than reassured her. The feeling she’d had since he’d arrived in Sussex that he was no stranger to danger was strengthening.
‘Why did you go to the Indies?’ she blurted. ‘Was it because your brother was in bad trouble? Were you in trouble too?’
‘My brother was in bad trouble wherever he was, Deborah,’ he said, holding the gently oscillating tumbler between thumb and forefinger. ‘After my father died, it fell to me to sort out his messes. Often I became embroiled in them in the doing of it.’ Abruptly he put down his glass and stood up as though he regretted having said too much. ‘Thank you for the drink. It’s late. I should be on my way.’
Deborah rose quickly too. Oddly, she knew that she didn’t want him to go yet. When they’d first settled down into their chairs, she’d expected awkward questions from him; now she was the one keen to probe for some more answers. Her tiredness had dispersed and she felt alert again and desperate to solve, once and for all, those frustrating puzzles that constantly pricked at her mind.
‘Why didn’t you write to me?’ It was out before she’d consciously decided to air a grievance that for seven long years had remained locked in a treasury in her mind. ‘You promised you would.’ Her voice had sounded raw with emotion and immediately his tawny eyes sprang to savage her face.
‘I did. You know I did.’
Chapter Thirteen
‘Don’t lie; please don’t lie. It doesn’t matter now, of course.’ Deborah tried and failed miserably to authenticate her nonchalance with a hoarse laugh. ‘I just wondered why you would promise to keep in touch, then not do so.’ She swallowed, turned away swiftly, feeling suffocated by unshed tears. ‘It’s of no importance…thank you for escorting us home,’ she croaked. ‘Basham will show you out. Goodnight.’
He was between her and the door in two swift strides.
As she came closer to him she sensed her steps faltering, her heart pounding as she remembered how once before he had arrested her in almost the same spot and brutally kissed her. But she forced her feet to keep moving. An innate sense told her he would let her go. And so it seemed. The solid wall of tension had been breached and she was a step past him and expelling the breath caught in her throat when a hand came out. He caught at one of her wrists by instinct, for he hadn’t turned about to watch her retreat. Slowly he drew her back until they stood side by side, facing in opposite directions.
