by Mary Brendan
In common with all the people for miles around, Deborah now knew that a mercenary working as a government spy had outwitted Ned Swinton and finally brought about his and his wife’s downfall.
There had been no free-traders at anchor offshore waiting to storm the coast and do battle with dragoons and Revenue men. It had all been a calculated plot, right down to the assembling of ships at sea and troops on land. To some Randolph Chadwicke was a knight in shining armour; to others he was the villain of the piece.
‘I imagine he is blaming me for the loss of his cut-price supply of French lace.’
‘I imagine you’re right,’ Deborah agreed, aware from Randolph’s irony he’d known they were under observation. ‘And there are others who feel the same way, and will be glad to see the back of you.’
‘Do you count yourself amongst them?’
‘Of course not!’ It was a spontaneous cry as her eyes swerved to tangle with his.
‘Of course not?’ he echoed through lightly set teeth. ‘The last time we had a conversation I believe you named me a vile criminal who’d abused your hospitality.’
‘And are you? Were you?’ she flung back. ‘I don’t know who you are, or who you ever were, that’s the trouble.’ Her voice keened with frustration and she bit her lower lip to stop its wobble.
‘And so you thought you’d come looking for me to find out?’
‘Yes!’ she stormed. ‘I…I wanted my questions answered in case you again went away and left me waiting and wondering.’
‘Do you really believe I would go away without first coming to see you?’ He jammed his hands in his pockets and strode off a few paces before pivoting about. ‘Do you think I’m callous enough to use you and your mother for sinister, selfish reasons?’
‘No,’ she murmured miserably and dropped down her face to frown at her intertwining fingers. ‘I truly didn’t believe that you’d stoop so low. Captain Stewart was annoyed that I refused to believe him and denigrate you. After he visited me that day I came to find you to make you tell me your side of it,’ she whispered. ‘I’m none the wiser on many things. So again I’ve swallowed my pride because I couldn’t wait longer to know the truth,’ she admitted. ‘I know that you were sent here as a government spy to break up Swinton’s gang. Ross came to see me to say goodbye before he went home. He wouldn’t tell me anything. He said you’d rather explain things to me.’
He came back to her and a dark hand was raised to gently cup her quivering cheek. ‘He’s right. I would. I’m glad you came to find me, sweetheart,’ Randolph said hoarsely. ‘I’m pleased, too, you care enough to want to hear my side of the story, having had Stewart’s version. But you shouldn’t have come out alone.’ He took her arm to draw her with him towards the forge where his stallion was tethered under the porch. ‘Come, I’ll take you home.’ A rueful chuckle cluttered his throat. ‘I don’t want to unearth all the Chadwicke skeletons at such a time and place as this. It would be wiser to wait and find somewhere private. There are a lot of them rattling about.’
Despite his mordant humour his expression remained sober and Deborah knew he was not wholly joking. The knowledge sent a shiver of foreboding rippling through her. The hood of her cloak was tweaked forwards by Randolph as protection from the drizzle that descended from the sullen-looking sky. By the time they’d reached the shelter of the porch, the rain had become persistent enough to make him curse beneath his breath.
‘I don’t relish getting soaked to the skin.’ His narrowed, tawny eyes scanned the gloomy scene. ‘If we wait under here for a while, it might pass over.’
Randolph huddled them close to the wall of the building in order that he might protect them from the elements. The wind had strengthened, too, and flapped Deborah’s skirts against her boots, and he shifted position to shield her slender form with the breadth of his body.
‘Excuse me, sir.’
Randolph half-turned to see Donald Smith at his shoulder, tugging at his forelock.
‘If you’d like to step inside and have a warm till it blows over, you be most welcome.’ The blacksmith deferentially stepped back a few paces, inviting them to enter his workshop.
Donald was one of many locals who’d been relieved to see the end of the Luckhursts’ reign. In his estimation they’d got far too big for their boots and Seth especially had been throwing his weight about. Besides, Donald was an honest businessman who paid his dues and his opinion was that other folk should do the same. His resentment of the smugglers had peaked when his daughter Lizzie had been scared half to death by the Noose-head Ned character on the evening she’d walked home from Rye fair.
‘I’m finished for the day and I’ve a bit of a thirst.’ Donald untied his leather apron and hung it up. ‘I’m off to the tavern, sir, but stay ‘til the rain stops, if you’ve a mind.’ With another tug at his forelock Donald positioned a rough stick-back chair close to the fire for Deborah.
A smile and murmured thanks rewarded him as Deborah perched on its rickety edge. A few moments later Donald had donned his jacket and hat and, with a mumbled farewell, had dashed out into the wet afternoon.
Deborah pushed back her hood and flicked at her golden hair to remove droplets from her fringe. She put her hands to the glow of the fire and felt a little more relaxed. The odour of hot metal and leather mingled with a hint of horseflesh to create a peculiarly pleasant ambience. A flitting glance at Randolph was arrested as she noticed him gingerly press a hand to his side. At once a wave of guilt washed over her. So concerned had she been with protecting her pride and launching her interrogation, she’d forgotten to ask how he was.
‘Are you in pain? She quickly got up and approached him. ‘Ross told me you’d been injured and that an infection had set in.’ Automatically she raised a slender hand as though to soothe his hurt. ‘Where…?’
Her small fingers were held, then directed to his lower ribs, where he touched them briefly to a wound dressing beneath his jacket.
‘Is it healing well?’ she asked anxiously.
He nodded slowly, his low-lashed eyes seeming to smoulder with as much heat as the brazier close by.
‘I wish I hadn’t set out this afternoon to see you. I should have stayed at the Lodge and let you come to me,’ he murmured huskily. ‘Had we met there instead of here I think we’d have resolved many things.’
‘You were coming to see me this afternoon?’ she blurted, blushing at his sultry suggestiveness. She recalled she’d thought the lodge would be an ideal place for a romantic tryst. It seemed he had also recognised its potential.
‘As soon as I’d settled with the blacksmith I intended travelling on to Woodville Place. I’ve wanted to talk to you, too, Debbie.’ He lifted her slender fingers to brush them against his lips. ‘I wanted to come and see you straight away and satisfy myself you’d recovered from your ordeal that night. But I’ve been needed at one meeting after the other to file reports with the authorities. Also I was delirious with fever for a day or two.’ He smiled slightly. ‘I thought it best not to come and risk collapsing or talking drivel.’ He gave her a significant look. ‘I wasn’t sure how my visit would be received. But I was determined to thank you for bravely coming to warn me Ned Swinton and Captain Stewart were out to get me.’
‘Had I known Ned Swinton’s gang was about that night, I doubt I would have found the courage to set foot outside the door.’ She glanced up bashfully. ‘I’m sorry I made dreadful accusations before giving you a chance to explain. But I was overwrought after the trap came off the road and angry, too, in case.’
‘In case…there might have been some truth in what Captain Stewart told you?’
‘And was there?’ Apprehensive blue eyes glanced on his watchful gaze.
‘Yes.’
The immediate, unadorned admission stunned her for a moment. The next instant her fingers, still held by him, squirmed for freedom, but he tightened his hold on her. The glow from the forge seemed to highlight one side of his face to devilishly sharp angles whil
st his eyes remained in shade, their expression unreadable.
‘You were once a smuggler?’ she whispered.
‘Yes.’
A little mew of misery cluttered her throat and she jerked aside her head. Long fingers curved on her nape, drawing her close again, smoothing soothingly on her satiny skin.
‘And now?’ she gasped.
‘And now I’m a smuggler catcher,’ he said drily. ‘I see…’ she croaked and tried again to slip free of his clasp.
‘I don’t think you do see. You have to let me properly explain, Debbie,’ he hoarsely pleaded. ‘People aren’t always completely good or bad, right or wrong. Sometimes something in between is all that’s possible given their breeding and circumstances.’
‘Captain Stewart told me your brother killed a Revenue man and fled abroad. Were you involved in that dreadful crime? Is that why you also went to the Indies for so long?’ Her voice sounded shrill with distress.
‘Hush…’ His palms enclosed her cheeks and two slow thumbs circled calmingly on her complexion. ‘I swear I was by then a reformed character. I was not even in Suffolk that night. I was in London with Marcus and some other friends.’ He tilted up her chin so she couldn’t avoid his eyes. ‘Do you believe me?’
She nodded, but her eyes seemed to float in unshed tears.
‘I want to tell you why I went to the Indies seven years ago, sweetheart. I want to tell you about Sebastian and the havoc he wreaked on my life and that of my mother and sister.’ He sighed, throwing back his head to grimace at the beamed roof. ‘I’d hoped for somewhere more comfortable and private than this when I explained. But I want no more delay, and no more secrets or misunderstandings between us. Before I tell you the worst of it, let me say that Sebastian was an incorrigible villain, but he wasn’t the first of the Chadwickes to smuggle. For centuries my ancestors have been plundering vessels and shipping illicit cargoes.’
‘But…but you’re aristocrats,’ she stuttered in confusion.
‘Our peerage was not got through noble victories on the battlefield, sweet. Though it was got through fighting for King and country. My great-great-grandfather’s talent as a bounty hunter was rewarded with a barony. He was an accomplished privateer based in the Indies who disrupted merchant ships and stole treasure and hostages for ransom. English as well as foreign traders came under his attack, and he made a small fortune in the doing of it. When the King found he had no commander able to thwart him, he offered Vincent Chadwicke a lucrative deal. For land and a title he bought my ancestor’s loyalty and Vincent worked for the Crown instead of against it.’ Cynicism skewed his smile. ‘Sebastian would always say it wasn’t his fault he was a reprobate, it was in his blood.’
‘And yours too?’ she breathed. ‘Maybe…’ Randolph agreed softly. ‘But we were never alike and I saw the error of my ways before I turned twenty. I tried until the day he died to make Sebastian see the shame in lawbreaking too.’
‘He killed a government officer for contraband!’ Deborah hissed in sheer disgust. ‘And then fled abroad to avoid arrest. Why did you go after him?’
‘I went to stop him pilfering from the fund that my father had intended be used for my mother and sister’s comfort. I didn’t have sufficient income to keep us all and run the estate, and my mother was distressed by the idea of losing it.’ He paused. ‘Sebastian had lived abroad for about three years when our financial hardship became so acute that I had to confront him in person. I had no intention of staying away more than a matter of months. But when I arrived I found my brother had little of worth to sell to make reparation. He had purchased a plantation, but it was badly run and unprofitable. I took over and forced him to work, though he showed little aptitude or enthusiasm. Slowly we started to make enough money to send some to my mother.’ He sighed, his eyes distant. ‘But unbeknown to me Sebastian had been an opium eater for some while. He had a secret, debauched life in a den of iniquity and after a few years spent with him I accepted that I could not help him conquer his addiction, nor did he want to.’
‘But you stayed so long. Why?’
‘Because by then I knew two things,’ Randolph began quietly. ‘I’d discovered my brother had dependants living in squalor, and I’d guessed from a lack of post there was no reason to swiftly return.’
‘I swear I did not receive one letter from you.’ Deborah’s gaze clung soulfully to his face, willing him to believe her.
‘And I swear I sent four during the first year I was there.’ He snapped aside his face, presenting her with a hard profile. ‘What does it matter now?’ A rasp of laughter preceded his next words. ‘What was it you said when first we met in Hastings? A lot of water has passed under the bridge since then.’
Deborah watched a muscle leap rhythmically in his lean jaw. She had long ceased straining to free her hand. For a time it had lain warm and still in his. Now she turned her fingers, wound them about his broad palm in mute support and encouragement as he resumed his story.
‘It was hard to feel sorry for Sebastian despite his corrosive affliction. But his children were a different matter,’ Randolph said. ‘He rarely showed remorse for what he’d done or rued the debauched lifestyle that had deprived his mother and sister of a comfortable existence in England.’
‘Captain Stewart said he was hanged for treason,’ Deborah murmured, her eyes brimming with sympathy.
‘He was. Within a short while of him arriving in the Indies he’d joined a gang of brigands. He spent less time with them after I joined him there. But one day he managed to thwart my vigilance and disappeared. About a week later I learned he’d been captured with some of his pirate friends trying to board an English vessel. Members of both crews had been killed in the battle.’ Randolph abruptly let her go. He jammed his hands in his pockets and paced aimlessly. ‘I wish to God I’d never gone there!’ he ejaculated through gritted teeth. ‘It was pointless. I had to come home and tell my family the worst possible news: that Sebastian was dead, hanged like a cur in a foreign land and his body left on a gibbet as a deterrent to others.’
Deborah felt her eyes prickle with tears; despite his savage speech she knew how terribly hurt he was. He felt guilty for not saving his brother from the gallows, and his family from the distress and disgrace of such a dreadful punishment. After a quiet moment she softly enquired, ‘What became of his wife and children?’ Her balmy blue gaze bathed his harsh features. ‘I remember you said that Sebastian had a son and a daughter.’
‘He had two children, but he didn’t have a wife. In common with everything else in his life, he stole one. Claudette was married to a neighbouring landowner, but she lived with Sebastian as his mistress.’
‘And what has become of them?’ she gasped. ‘Are they destitute?’
‘I sold the plantation and used the majority of the money to bribe her husband to take her back and rear my brother’s bastards as his own.’ He turned about to look at Deborah. ‘He accepted the offer, and why should he not? Forgiveness for being rejected in favour of a drug-addled criminal has its price. I thought him a reasonable fellow. Actually he appeared a far better father to the children than was my brother.’
‘As the boy is illegitimate I suppose you are Lord Buckland,’ Deborah mused beneath her breath.
All that broke the ensuing silence was a patter of gentle raindrops and the hiss of flames in the forge. Having concentrated for some minutes, Deborah ventured, ‘Did you agree to work for the King to atone for Sebastian’s sins, and polish the title you’d inherited?’
‘Nothing so noble, sweetheart,’ he said sardonically. ‘I did it for the money.’
‘You’re rich now?’ Deborah asked quietly.
‘Rich and respectable,’ he admitted with a grimace. ‘It’s a pity the opportunity to become so didn’t arise seven years ago.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me you were working undercover for the authorities?’ she asked with a hint of indignation. ‘I would have kept your secret, I swear. Didn’t you trust me enough to t
ell me?’
‘I couldn’t tell you, Debbie,’ he said forcefully. ‘God knows I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I’d trust you with my life, but I’d never risk your safety in such a way.’ He came towards her, smoothed a shaking hand over her soft cheek. ‘Nobody apart from Ross knew the truth. Even Captain Stewart and his men were kept in the dark.’ He paused. ‘We knew there was someone in the area who was passing on confidential information. I don’t blame Gerard; he was not to know his wife was a sly trickster.’ He frowned. ‘Had I hinted to you what I was up to, you might have unwittingly let something slip to Harriet. That information might have found its way to Gerard and then on to Susanna…’ He sighed. ‘I do trust you, Deborah, but if my cover had been blown before the mission had been successful, it would have put you and your mother in dreadful jeopardy. It was common knowledge that we were friends who’d known one another years ago. Swin-ton and his wife might have abducted you, dreadfully mistreated you, to get information from you.’ He drew her in to his arms, rocked her gently. ‘You saw how ruthless was Susanna Swinton. Believe me, her husband was doubly evil and vicious. He would have spared you nothing. I still can’t bear to think what might have happened had you been left too long at the mercy of that bitch. I was mad with worry. I nearly aborted the mission to come back and rescue you.’
‘Hah! You’d no need! I was a match for her!’ Deborah snorted against his shoulder, although she clutched at his arms for support. The dreadful memory of that night still had the power to weaken her limbs.
He chuckle stirred her golden hair. ‘Yes, you were,’ he slowly, softly praised her. ‘In fact, we make a good team, you and I—’ Abruptly he stepped away. ‘It’s stopped raining. I’ll take you home now.’ With a hand on her arm he urged her to the open doorway and together they surveyed the dripping landscape.
‘There’s more to say, but I’d sooner we talked somewhere else.’ He gazed at the washed skies whilst speaking.
‘I don’t want to go home yet,’ she said huskily, drawing his eyes immediately to her sweet, upturned face. She was sorry the rain had stopped and he’d interrupted their heart to heart to say he’d take her home. She had sensed he’d been on the point of saying something significant. ‘I haven’t yet told you I’m sorry I said you were a vile criminal. I want you to know, too, that I believe what you’ve told me, and I trust you were always sincere in your dealings with us.’
