Skylark

by Jo Beverley

  “I’m sorry. He’s enjoying his cousins, and there are kittens in the barn. No Stephen?”

  “Not yet, but we expect him shortly.”

  Eleanor Delaney took her into an airy bedchamber with blue-and-white curtains and bed hangings. In this house Laura had an impression of casual elegance that made her long to settle in and enjoy. But there was also something as unusual as its owner.

  Perhaps it was the colors, or even the scents. She detected potpourri, but perhaps incense, as well. On the landing, she’d recognized a large pale statue of a laughing fat man as a representation of Buddha. She remembered Stephen saying once that King Rogue had gone traveling instead of to university.

  So it would seem.

  “I’ll go and get some hot water for you,” her hostess said.

  She left, which was tactful, as Laura did need to use the chamber pot. She hadn’t anticipated, however, how very strange it would feel to be foisted upon strangers with Stephen not here. Was she to carry on chatting as if they were old friends? When would she be allowed to stop lying?

  She took off her black bonnet and gloves and her gray spencer, then relieved herself. As she waited for her washing water, she looked out at a pleasant, unpretentious garden, an orchard, and placid scenery beyond. A lovely spot, but not the setting she’d expected for daredevil Nicholas Delaney.

  Stephen put great faith in him, but was he really able to help them? People changed. Yes, she thought, considering the past few days, indeed, people do.

  Eleanor returned, carrying the jug of hot water herself.

  “This is a lovely house,” Laura said.

  “We like it. May I call you Laura all the time? It’s best to act a part completely—I have that from a master of deception. And you must call me Eleanor.”

  It would feel awkward, but Laura said, “Of course.”

  “And do call Nicholas, Nicholas. No one who knows him would believe that an old friend of mine wouldn’t.”

  That would feel even stranger, but pouring water into the bowl, Laura agreed. As she washed her hands and face, she asked, “Is there need to pretend in front of the servants?”

  “It’s best to be thorough. Did you have a smooth journey?”

  Laura followed that lead. She wouldn’t be here long, after all, but she wished she knew how much Stephen had told his friends.

  “I gather that you and Stephen intend a further journey,” Eleanor said.

  So he’d told them that much. “There’s nothing improper about it. Well, there is, of course, but we do it only from necessity.”

  Eleanor’s eyes twinkled. “Exciting necessity, I’m sure, Stephen being a Rogue.”

  Did it seem she was engaged in this for amusement? “Perhaps I should explain . . .”

  But Eleanor waved a hand. “Oh, no, it will be more efficient to do it all at once. Now, would you like tea? We will have a lunch when Stephen arrives.”

  “Tea would be lovely.”

  Laura realized that what she really wanted was to be alone, to be free of pretending friendship and guarding what she said. She remembered a good reason.

  “I promised my son letters. Deceptive, I know, but if I write them, will you send them each day?”

  “Of course,” Eleanor said, without a hint of disapproval. “I’ll get you some of our stationery.”

  She left, and returned in moments with a portable desk containing everything Laura needed. “I’ll send up tea and let you know as soon as Stephen arrives.”

  Laura sat at the table by the window, aware of feeling disgruntled and it being unreasonable. Eleanor Delaney was so very amiable and even tempered that it was irritating. Of course, Eleanor had not married a man like Hal Gardeyne. She was the type to have more sense.

  Laura winced. She wouldn’t be reduced to thinking mean thoughts about Hal. She’d made that choice and would live with it. He hadn’t changed; she had. Or perhaps simply come to know herself better.

  It wasn’t even as if she wanted a life like this for herself. It struck her as much too placid.

  She liked the bustle of Merrymead, and she loved London.

  Thinking of that was a waste of time. She uncapped the inkwell and chose a pen. Stephen would be here shortly, and these letters must be written.

  Tea came and she sipped it as she wrote. Soon she had five simple letters written, dated today and subsequent days, except that one was for both tomorrow and Monday. Neither people nor letters traveled on Sunday.

  On Monday, Jack might set off for Draycombe, but it would take him at least two days to make the journey and by then surely she and Stephen would have dealt with the situation. She had four days. Four days that might solve her problems or land her in disaster.

  She enjoyed gambling, but only for trivial stakes.

  A clock somewhere began an interesting harmonious chime. Laura counted, but she knew it had to be noon. Where was Stephen?

  She didn’t want to join her hosts until he arrived. She remembered promising Harry drawings, so she began to illustrate the letters. On the first one, she drew a post chaise across the top, with herself at the window, waving. On the next one, she drew a church with her coming out with the Delaneys and little Arabel.

  Such a pity the child was so shy. She gave thanks that Harry had a robust, sunny temperament. It made him trusting, however. Too trusting.

  Juliet would keep him safe.

  She drew the view from her window on Tuesday’s letter, then, her imagination failing her, a meaningless border of flowers on the last. By the time Harry got Wednesday’s letter, she might be home again.

  There was a tap on the door, and Eleanor came in. “Stephen’s here, and lunch is ready.”

  At last. Laura quickly folded her letters and sealed them. Sadness poked at her. “Harry usually does this. He loves it.”

  “Arabel, too.”

  They shared a smile and Laura felt more comfortable. Children were children and mothers mothers. It would not be long before Harry was sealing her letters for her again. She stacked the letters and gave them to Eleanor, then they both went downstairs.

  Stephen was in the drawing room, seated on the sofa with little Arabel leaning trustingly on his knee, apparently showing him her doll. It was quite a plain one. A stick-and-rag doll. Stephen was smiling, and the little girl was smiling, too. He liked children and they liked him, even shy Arabel.

  He would make a good father.

  Then Arabel saw Laura and ran to her father.

  He picked her up as if this were normal, but said, “Mrs. Gardeyne is a friend of Uncle Stephen’s and thus a friend of ours. Make your curtsy, poppet.”

  He put the girl down. The child’s look was so distrustful that Laura thought she might refuse, but she dropped a curtsy. Immediately afterward, however, she scrambled back into her father’s arms.

  Laura felt mortified to be terrifying a child so, but why? Harry had been terrified of one of his great-aunts, who wore red circles of rouge on her cheeks in the old style. She, however, was without face paint and wearing a simple dark gray gown and white cap.

  She caught a flicker of something on Eleanor Delaney’s face. Perhaps it was embarrassment at the way her child was behaving, or even unhappiness that Arabel so clearly preferred her father. All was not well in this house, after all.

  Stephen greeted Laura in a casual sort of way. “Did everything go smoothly?”

  “Perfectly. Our plans are in place.”

  “Yes, and when I left the Caldfort area a second time, the vicar was making no unusual moves.”

  Laura had thought that Stephen’s arrival would make everything easier, but it was quite the opposite. She realized that she’d expected Stephen to be more struck by their reunion.

  As she was?

  Talk became general, then Stephen asked Nicholas, “How’s Dare?”

  “Coming along.”

  “Fit for visitors?”

  “For you, of course.” Nicholas glanced at Laura. “Lord Darius Debenham, a friend o
f ours who is still suffering the effects of a war wound.”

  “All England talks of the miracle. And, of course, Lord Darius is one of the Rogues.”

  Nicholas grinned. “Ah, you know all.”

  “I’m sure I don’t, but I heard many schoolboy tales. Is there hope of full recovery?”

  “Excellent hope, yes. I see lunch is ready. I’ll take Arabel upstairs and join you in a moment.”

  At least he carried the child over for a mother’s kiss before taking her away, but as Laura went to the dining room with Stephen and their hostess she felt uncomfortable about the whole situation. It was none of her business, but she couldn’t help thinking that King Rogue indulged his daughter too much. As with letting Harry dictate to her, it would prove disastrous in the end.

  Chapter 18

  Servants placed dishes on the table and then left. By the time Eleanor was finishing the serving of the soup, Nicholas joined them. “So, who’s going to dish up the story?” he asked.

  Laura exchanged a look with Stephen. “You’re the one with the gift for words.”

  He pulled a face at her, but then gave a succinct account that was over by the time the Delaneys cleared the soup plates and uncovered the next course.

  “I can imagine your concern,” Eleanor said to Laura. “It must have been so hard to leave your son behind in these circumstances.”

  Laura flinched from that reminder. “I’m sure Jack Gardeyne will not go to Merrymead, and my sister knows the dangers.”

  She explained that, and Stephen said, “Excellent. Juliet always had a clever mind and quick wits.”

  More so than herself? Laura wondered.

  Nicholas ignored his pork. “Let’s look at that letter.”

  Laura produced it, but Stephen said, “I don’t think even you can squeeze more out of it. The answers lie in Draycombe. I did confirm that the ship that went down, supposedly taking Henry Gardeyne to the deeps, was the Mary Woodside.”

  “Well done!” Laura declared.

  “And achieved in a couple of days on the road,” Nicholas said. “Brilliant as always.”

  Stephen didn’t seem particularly pleased by the accolade.

  “You don’t have a clue about Oscar Ris?” Nicholas asked. “Heaven knows there are strange names around the world, but it doesn’t fit with any nationality I know.” He passed the letter to Eleanor. “And how could he keep someone prisoner for ten years?”

  “What if it were voluntary?” Eleanor suggested. “A flight from disgrace or scandal? Perhaps Henry’s father cast him off and it was made to look as if he’d died.”

  Nicholas raised his brows. “I never knew you had such a gothic imagination, love. But if he wasn’t disinherited, why not rise from his watery grave once his father was dead? The key question I see is, Why now?”

  Laura was making an attempt to eat. “We think this HG might be his son. Raised by Oscar Ris, but newly discovered to be legitimate.”

  “Now that makes a fragment of sense,” Nicholas said. “Azir Al Farouk is entrusted with the task of bringing the child to England to claim his inheritance—perhaps because of his excellent command of English. But the villain has recognized a chance to make his fortune.”

  “In league with Captain Dyer?” Eleanor suggested. “Could there be a band of ruffians involved?”

  Stephen put down his knife and fork. “That’s what worries me. I don’t want to take Laura into danger.”

  “Then you shouldn’t take her at all,” Nicholas said. “Whenever there’s villainy, there’s the possibility of danger. Desperate people will do desperate things.”

  The words seemed to have a meaning that shadowed the room. Whatever that meaning was, they cleared Laura’s mind. She couldn’t send Stephen alone into danger.

  “I want to go, and I won’t be in danger. I’ll simply be visiting a respectable seaside resort. I have no intention of skulking around in the dark or doing anything foolish.”

  Stephen gave her a look. “I believe I’ve heard that before.”

  She looked right back. “When we were children. You were right when you argued that any decisions are mine to make.”

  Nicholas finally cut into his meat. “I think we should involve Captain Drake.”

  “Oh, good idea,” Eleanor said.

  Laura looked between them. “Whoever he is, no. We can’t involve any more people. Not when things might become illegal.”

  “She’s right, Nick,” Stephen said. “Who the devil is Captain Drake, anyway?”

  Laura recognized Nicholas’s smile as mischievous, which seemed horribly inappropriate. “He’s the smuggling master who controls the coast round about Draycombe.”

  “Smuggling!” Laura gasped.

  Stephen groaned. “Trust you to know the local criminals.”

  “It wasn’t me. It was Con.” Nicholas glanced at Laura. “Con Somerford, Viscount Amleigh, briefly Earl of Wyvern. Have you heard of the affair?”

  “He inherited the earldom earlier this year and then someone else claimed it. It’s being fought in the courts, isn’t it?”

  “It’s being arranged amicably, but the stamping and sealing takes time. Crag Wyvern, seat of the Earl of Wyvern, is about three miles from Draycombe.”

  “But how does Con connect to the smuggler, Captain Drake?” Stephen asked.

  Nicholas shared a look with his wife. “He’s going to be upset with me.”

  “You always knew that,” Eleanor replied.

  Stephen put down his cutlery. “You’ve been up to something illegal again.”

  It was said levelly, but Laura tensed. Stephen was angry? Because of illegalities? Did he try to keep his irresponsible friends in line? If so, why had he involved them in her serious affairs?

  “Not I,” Nicholas protested.

  “But as usual, you protected me from any dirt.”

  “Stephen,” said Nicholas, suddenly serious, “you’re the Rogues’ secret weapon within the legal and political system. We can’t have you tainted.”

  “For pity’s sake—”

  Eleanor stopped Stephen with a raised hand. “Before you two have a Roguish fight, you’re going to have to decide how much to tell Laura. Private matters in public are not polite.”

  “I’ve had my knuckles rapped.” Nicholas turned to Laura. “My apologies. Since you’ve told us your secrets, I have no problem with telling you ours, but I need your assurance that you will keep them in confidence.”

  “Illegal matters? I’m not sure. If I were to find them wrong, wicked . . . I’m not sure.”

  “Excellent. Honor should rule. How strongly do you feel about smuggling?”

  “Not strongly at all. The taxes are iniquitous.”

  “Then you should have no difficulty. I’ve been wondering how Al Farouk and HG arrived in England, you see. There are formalities at official entry points. My guess is that they came ashore on a smuggling boat. If it was anywhere near Draycombe, Captain Drake will know all about that.”

  “I see, but can we get the information without telling him why?”

  “Possibly, but I think we should involve him more. It’s his business to be informed about any unusual people visiting his territory. In addition, he commands most of the people along that stretch of coast and can even summon an army if required. If Farouk is part of a vicious gang, Captain Drake can keep you and Stephen safe.”

  A noise came from Stephen that sounded like a stifled protest.

  Nicholas looked at him. “Steve, you know I don’t approve of courting danger. It comes on its own easily enough.”

  “Not to me.”

  “Now that,” his friend said, “is idiotic. As well ask to break a bone.”

  Laura noted that Eleanor looked resigned, as if this was an old battle. The Rogues tried to keep Stephen out of dangerous activities because he was more useful to them as a sober, respectable citizen? Clearly Stephen objected.

  How much danger could a group of English gentlemen get into in the normal run of t
hings?

  Stephen turned to her. “It appears that this Captain Drake might be of use, though I share your concerns. He is a criminal, after all.”

  Nicholas said, “And before I say more, I must have your word that you will keep this secret. I promise there are no worse crimes to reveal.”

  After a moment, Laura said, “Very well. You have my word.”

  “Captain Drake is also David Kerslake-Somerford, soon to be Earl of Wyvern.”

  Laura knew her jaw had dropped.

  Stephen exclaimed, “Good Lord!” But then he said, “Yes, I am upset. I assume the Rogues had a part in the rearrangement of the earldom and all know about this but me.”

  “No. Con knows, of course. It was his affair—”

  “And his wife is Kerslake’s sister! I was at the wedding. I met the man. He’s a gentleman.”

  “It’s a long and complex story.”

  “When is it not?”

  “And not surprising if no one wanted to burden your conscience with it unnecessarily, Steve.”

  Stephen went silent, but Laura saw that he took this matter of being protected hard. She remembered when she’d worried that she was dragging him into danger. No wonder he’d turned frosty.

  Nicholas said, “Miles, Francis, Lee, and Luce are as much in the dark as you, I promise. And note, I have told you now that there’s a purpose.”

  There was apology there, but the cool voice of command, too. Laura looked down at her plate, wondering why nothing could be simple anymore. She’d thought the Rogues were a close-knit, endlessly supportive group. She’d thought the same of her family, but in this extreme, she’d not confided in them.

  “Let’s return to Laura’s problem,” Stephen said. “So, Captain Drake might know when Farouk arrived, and what companions he brought. Perhaps even their whereabouts. You’re right. That will be useful. I’m not sure, however, about making open contact. Smugglers have a rough way of keeping their secrets.”

  “You and Laura have agreed to keep the secrets, and David is a Rogue by association now.”

  “Ah, is he?”

  “Too useful to be ignored.”

  “And,” said Eleanor dryly, “now owner of a truly astonishing collection of strange books and artifacts.”