Smuggler's Kiss

by Marie-Louise Jensen

  ‘Engaged?’ Jane frowned. ‘But the viscount’s married.’

  ‘That’s what Will said. He was a widower when I knew him. His wife had died in childbed.’

  ‘I live so out of the world,’ said Jane, shaking her head. ‘That sort of news never reaches me. But you didn’t marry him?’

  I shook my head. ‘No. My father lost his fortune. He speculated in the South Sea venture.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Jane. ‘Then he didn’t want you? Well, it always was money with James.’ Again she shook her head. ‘Since you know so much, I might as well tell you that William is James’s younger brother.’

  It made sense to me. It explained the feeling I’d had once or twice that I’d seen Will somewhere before. I’d known his brother. ‘I had no idea James had a brother,’ I said, puzzled.

  She shrugged. ‘I’ve heard they never mention him now. He was very young at the time. He was still at Cambridge when all this happened four years ago. He wasn’t known in what you would call the fashionable world.’ She spoke the words rather scornfully. ‘And it was all hushed up.’

  ‘The murder? Will you tell me what happened?’ I pleaded.

  ‘I can tell you what I know. But it isn’t much.’

  Jane poured me a cup of tea and pushed it towards me. ‘The family acquired a young ward years ago. Elizabeth Jones. She was the orphan of some poor relations who’d passed away. They took her in. She was the prettiest child, but the sort that knows it, if you know what I mean? Both the boys were of that impressionable age. Both fell madly in love with her. That worried the parents. She had no money, you see. None at all. They weren’t having their precious sons marrying a penniless nobody.

  ‘I don’t rightly know what happened next. There was gossip below stairs. Of secret betrothals and the like. All I know is that she was sent away suddenly. But then four years or so later, she reappeared with a child. Knocked on the front door, she did, demanding to see the earl and his wife. Well, you can imagine the scene and I daresay you can imagine the gossip in the house among the servants.’

  ‘I can,’ I said, having overheard snatches in my own home. I tried to imagine a similar scene in my parents’ house, but as I had no brothers, I failed. ‘So what happened next?’

  ‘She declared the little girl was their grand-daughter.’

  ‘Will’s child?’

  ‘No one heard that. At first we all assumed it was James’s. Many of the maids knew what he was like, you see … ’ she broke off in confusion, blushing. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean … ’

  ‘It’s quite all right,’ I assured her. ‘I’m not really very surprised.’

  I was lying. I’d always idealized James. I’d thought he was the perfect husband, of whom my father had cruelly deprived me by losing our money. Perhaps I had been mistaken. How well had I known him after all? A few balls, a couple of dinners and formal morning calls; I realized now that would have given me only a knowledge of his company manners, not of his backstairs habits. Perhaps he was every bit as vile as the man I had married.

  ‘When Elizabeth was leaving,’ said Jane, taking up the story again, ‘she tripped on the stairs. Both she and her infant were killed by the fall. At least that was what we were told at the time.’

  ‘My God,’ I breathed, horrified. ‘But it wasn’t true?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t know to this day. But a few days later, Master William fled. Just before they arrived to arrest him for murder.’

  I gasped. ‘He pushed them? No, surely not!’

  ‘That’s what they said. There was a witness, you see. A man who claimed to have been with Elizabeth. A relative of hers that it seems no one had known of until then. He went to the magistrates.’

  I shook my head confused. ‘So you left?’

  ‘Yes. Master William asked me to come here. To look after the child.’

  ‘I thought you said the child had died?’

  ‘I said we were told she had. It wasn’t true. Her mother died in the fall, she didn’t.’

  ‘This doesn’t make any sense,’ I cried, completely bewildered. ‘If Will was a murderer, why did he go to trouble and expense to look after the child? And if he did, surely it must be his child, not his brother’s? Why did you trust him?’

  ‘I was unhappy in that house. Master William had always been kind to me, even when he was just a child. When he offered me a cottage and a job of raising a child, I jumped at the chance. I’ve never asked him what happened that day. If he did it, he’s sorry for it, for he’s taken good care of us ever since.’

  My hands were shaking. I gripped them together on the table in front of me. ‘So you think the child is his? And that he did do the murder?’ I asked, dreading the reply.

  ‘I don’t know. He was so young at that time. Barely more than a schoolboy. But I’ve always thought he might have done it.’

  I leaned my head forward on my hands and groaned. That wasn’t what I’d hoped to hear. I’d come all this way, sure that if this cottage held any answers at all, it would be to clear Will’s name, not to sully it. I thought about him; his fair hair caught back in a black ribband; his piercing blue eyes laughing at some joke. It couldn’t be right.

  ‘You’re quite wrong, Auntie Jane,’ said a small, clear voice behind me. I jumped and looked round. A little girl stood at the foot of the stairs. She was dressed simply and plainly in a grey gown and a blue pinafore. Her fair hair was neatly plaited, and she couldn’t have been more than about eight years old.

  ‘Beth!’ cried Jane, flustered. ‘What are you doing here listening? I sent you for a walk!’

  Beth shook her head. ‘I didn’t go. I thought perhaps this lady was bringing a message from Will. He told me he’d send a message.’

  ‘It’s very wrong to eavesdrop,’ said Jane angrily. I could tell she was upset about the things the little girl must have overheard. But I was intrigued.

  ‘Why did you say your Auntie Jane was mistaken?’ I asked her. I pushed my empty tea cup aside and leaned forward to look at her. She met my eyes with an open gaze. She had the same blue eyes and fair hair as both Will and James. It was easy to believe that she was daughter to one of them.

  ‘Because I remember that night,’ she said.

  ‘Beth! You’ve never said so before!’ exclaimed Jane, obviously astonished.

  ‘I told Will.’

  ‘And what did he say?’

  ‘He said “You’re quite right. But mum for that, little Beth”, and ruffled my hair. Then he gave me a hug. And he promised he’d always take care of us.’

  ‘Then perhaps you should keep quiet as he said,’ said Jane nervously.

  Beth ignored her and looked straight at me. ‘It wasn’t Will that pushed Mama down the stairs,’ she told me. ‘It was the other man. Will’s brother. At least, perhaps he didn’t mean to push her down the stairs. I can’t quite remember that bit. It was all so loud and confusing and I was crying by then. But Mama was holding onto me with one hand and to the man with the other. She was crying and saying things to him.’

  ‘Like what?’ Jane asked.

  ‘Grown-up matters. I was too little then to understand. I only knew she was upset and crying and that upset me. She made him angry, I think.’

  ‘And what happened then?’ I asked curiously. I was amazed by the girl’s self assurance.

  ‘He pushed her. And she fell down. Down those hard stairs. I fell on top of her, but it still hurt me a lot. I can remember. It was the worst night of my whole life.’

  ‘And Will said that you remembered correctly, did he?’ I asked her. Beth nodded.

  ‘He did,’ she said. ‘And he told me not to tell anyone, but he was really my uncle. Is he coming to see me again soon?’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  The spring had resolved into summer and there were leaves on all the trees. I woke in the stuffiness of a warm night, feeling stifled in the tiny bedchamber under the eaves. Beside me, my sister was fast asleep. From across the landing, I could hear
my father’s rumbling snores. That was the worst of a cottage. You couldn’t get away from each other, even in sleep. I looked at my sister slumbering, her face peaceful. We had talked a great deal in the last few weeks. I understood much about her now that I hadn’t understood before.

  The room was hot and stuffy and I was restless. That must have been what had woken me. I couldn’t go back to sleep in this heat. In fact I couldn’t even lie still. As I sat up in bed and threw back my covers, I felt something out of place among the linen bedding; something rough against my skin. I grasped it and lifted it to the moonlight. It was a short length of thin rope knotted into a clove hitch around a small stick. I stared at it in bewilderment. How had this got here?

  It was such a poignant reminder of my time at sea that I felt my heart contract. I scrambled to my feet and went to the window, wondering if it had been thrown into my room that way.

  Leaning out of the tiny cottage window, I could smell the roses in the garden below, their scent magnified by the cool night air. A full moon shone overhead. There was no sign of anyone, but the rope hadn’t appeared from nowhere.

  I threw a light wrap around my shoulders and crept quietly down the stairs, determined to see if anyone was there. I told myself there would be no one, but my heart whispered that it could be Will and wouldn’t listen to my attempts to silence the seed of hope.

  We had no live-in servants in this small cottage; only a maid who came to us during the day, so there was no one to see or hear me lift the latch of the kitchen door and creep out into the summer night.

  The grass was cool and damp on my hot feet and the air was still. I looked around the garden, but could see no one. I sat down on our rustic bench in its arbour of honeysuckle with a sigh, wishing … well, I wasn’t sure what I wished. If only I had heard some news, any news at all from my friends of The Invisible. But there hadn’t been a word in the two months since I’d left the coast. We’d moved on several times, looking for somewhere pleasant and yet small and cheap enough that we could support ourselves on what little money we had left without getting into debt. I thought we were settled now, but how was anyone to trace me to send news? I clutched the knot tightly in my hand.

  There was a rustle in the greenery beside me and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I squeaked and cowered on the bench.

  ‘Shh! Isabelle, it’s only me!’ whispered a shadowy figure. ‘I threw the knot through your window to wake you!’

  I peered at the speaker, but whoever it was stood between me and the moon and all I could make out was a silhouette with wild black hair. The person sat down beside me, pulled off a wig and the moon fell full on his face.

  ‘Will!’ I cried in excitement.

  At once he clapped a hand over my mouth. ‘Isabelle, for heaven’s sake, don’t you know better than to be so loud?’ he whispered in my ear.

  I laughed and cried together, pulling his hand from my mouth and holding it tight. ‘I thought I’d never see you again!’ I said.

  ‘I wasn’t sure you’d want to,’ he replied. ‘I wasn’t sure if I should even try and find you. Now that you know what I’m accused of.’

  He looked away, his posture defensive, coiled as though ready to spring away and go if I uttered angry or hurtful words. Instead I pressed his hand which I was still holding in both of mine.

  ‘Will, I know the truth,’ I said. ‘It wasn’t you that killed her, was it?’

  Will turned towards me and stared at me in the darkness, as though he was trying to read my expression.

  ‘Was it an accident?’ I asked tentatively. ‘When your brother pushed her?’

  Will gripped my hands painfully hard. ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘I went to see Jane and Beth in Harman’s Cross. Don’t be angry, Will! I was desperate to know the truth and you’d gone. I still don’t understand it all. I just know you didn’t do that dreadful deed you’re accused of!’

  Will released me and jumped to his feet. For a dreadful moment, I thought he was so angry that he was going to leave. But he didn’t. He paced the little lawn a couple of times and then came back to me and sat in silence staring at his hands.

  ‘I think it was an accident,’ he said at last. ‘I’ve always tried to think so. But he was so angry. You’d think he’d never loved her, to hear him speak to her as he did!’

  ‘Maybe he didn’t?’ I suggested timidly.

  ‘I thought we both did. She was only ever interested in him, of course. He was the eldest, the heir, the most dashing of us. I was too young and too shy. But what he did was unforgivable. He promised to marry her; got her with child. I never would have … oh God!’

  Will covered his face with his hands and rocked back and forth.

  ‘But your parents wouldn’t allow the marriage?’

  ‘No, of course they wouldn’t. My father had huge gambling debts; the estates were mortgaged. It was essential that my brother made a good marriage. So she was sent away; given an allowance if she promised to stay away. I didn’t know then that she was expecting a child. They must have known though.

  ‘By the time she returned, four years later, my brother was on the eve of marrying an heiress. That’s why she came back. She was furious and said it was her he should be marrying. He called her terrible names and so did my father. They fought and then … Oh, poor Eliza.’

  ‘And poor Beth!’ I added softly. ‘Why did she wait so long? Why not ask him to marry her before?’

  Will shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Perhaps she thought, at first, that the settlement my father made on her to stay away was generous. But perhaps later she grew greedy or bitter. Truly, I don’t know, Isabelle. But you are right: Beth has suffered greatly. I don’t feel I can ever sufficiently make amends to her for what my family did between them. And after … they were going to send Beth to the orphanage: to abandon her there in poverty and lovelessness. That’s why I took her away. I couldn’t bear it. I persuaded Jane to care for her; found a cottage.’

  ‘That was well done,’ I said warmly.

  ‘It was essential. But when I returned, it was to find I was accused of murder. A witness none of us knew had gone to the magistrates and sworn he saw Elizabeth being deliberately pushed down the stairs. James stood accused, but to save him, my parents said it was me. The fact that I’d disappeared made me look doubly guilty.’

  ‘They accused you to save him?’ I asked, appalled. ‘How could they do that to you?’

  Will bared his teeth in a bitter smile. ‘Oh, James was the heir, the eldest son. The apple of their eye. And besides he was on the brink of this wonderful marriage. The marriage that would save my father from his self-inflicted debts. Of course they sacrificed me.’

  I could hear the hurt in his voice. He had felt betrayed and no wonder. ‘Money,’ I said bitterly. ‘It ruins everything. So what did you do?’

  ‘My father gave me five hundred pounds and organized me a safe passage to France,’ said Will. ‘He told me I had to save the family. I had to stay out of the country to save my brother, our family house, and name. I accepted my role, left almost all the money with Jane and I went. I found work. I’ve stayed away from them ever since; the first years I was in France, later I joined The Invisible. I knew Holbrook, you see. He was my father’s steward but later inherited a property of his own. I ran into him in France. He knew my story and offered me work as his agent. I see Beth occasionally, as you know. That was the appeal of the contraband trade. It brought me to England regularly.’

  I swallowed hard. ‘So that’s why you said, all those weeks ago, that I was not the first to sacrifice myself for my family?’

  ‘That’s right. Parents have been sacrificing themselves for their children since time began. You and I have done it the other way around, have we not?’

  ‘Except I didn’t go through with it,’ I said. ‘I ran away.’

  ‘Yes. Isabelle, I thought … I thought that it was because of James that you’d tried to kill yourself. It made me feel so dreadful. That there
was no end to the misery that my wretched family had caused to others.’

  There was suppressed anguish in his voice. I laid my hand soothingly over his clenched fist. ‘I’m sorry. I did try to tell you. Several times. Only there was more to my story that I was denying even to myself. I was refusing to think about it. I’d shut it all behind locked, bolted doors in my mind.’

  ‘Hence the nightmares?’

  I nodded. ‘Yes, the nightmares, the sleeplessness, the horror of my husband.’

  ‘Isabelle, it must have been such a shock. First my brother rejecting you. And then that. Your chosen husband unfaithful to you. You must despise men and marriage.’

  I hesitated, looking away. I had told him so much. I needed to tell him the last bit. The part I hadn’t been able to say in front of the court.

  I drew a deep breath. ‘I didn’t love him,’ I said. ‘Not the least bit. I still considered myself in love with your brother. I married him purely for my family’s sake. What overset me was not his faithlessness. Though that was hard to swallow on the actual wedding day. It was who he was with, Will.’

  Will clasped my hand in his. ‘Tell me,’ he said.

  I felt a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. I tried to speak, but couldn’t. Will waited quietly for me to master my emotions.

  ‘It was my little sister,’ I managed to say at last. Tears spilled down my cheeks, but my voice freed up and now I’d begun, the whole story came tumbling out: ‘We’d often fought, Mary and I. So when I saw them, I thought … I thought she’d always hated me and now she was stealing my husband. And he preferred her to me. I thought they were laughing at me behind my back. He saw me. He knew I knew. But he just laughed. And then he took me away to his dark gloomy house, miles from anywhere—truly, Will, you never would have guessed from it that he was a man of such wealth! He expected me to be his wife; to go through a wedding night with him just as though nothing had happened. Will, I just couldn’t. It was so horrific. When he left me to get undressed, I fled. But I had nowhere to go. No one to go to.’