Hope's Betrayal

by Grace Elliot

  “Now, Mr Tyler. You have one minute to state your business before I ask you to leave.”

  Wild-eyed, Tom glanced at Jenkins, who at a nod from Huntley, released his arm.

  Thomas sucked in a deep breath. “Hope is in danger.”

  “Go on.”

  “Hope is in danger.”

  “Yes, I heard that. But why should I believe you?”

  Thomas Tyler rubbed the wrist. “The Excise men broke up the smuggling ring—and the main investor is furious. He wants revenge and thinks hurting Hope will get it.”

  A pulse beat slow and hard in Huntley’s throat. This was an echo of his earlier conversation with Bennett. His mind raced. “How do you know this?”

  Thomas continued. “One of Choake's thugs told Pa Hope was hurt bad and were asking for him. Only Pa smelt a rat and refused to go with him, and then the man went mad and beat Pa.”

  Huntley’s blood ran cold. “One thing at a time. Who is this Choake?"

  "It's Choake's money behind the ring."

  "And when did this happen?"

  "Yesterday evening. I were night fishing and came back this morning to find Pa right poorly."

  A pulse throbbed at the base of Huntley's throat. "And why is Miss Tyler in danger?"

  "Because Pa was a means of getting to her. She's next."

  Huntley shook his head, exasperated. "How do you know that?"

  "Cos when he were beating Pa, the man raged about Choake getting revenge for his dead brother. The man shot by you, Captain Huntley."

  "I still don’t see…"

  "And that he'd kill anyone that betrayed the smugglers."

  "But Hope didn’t—just the opposite in fact."

  "Well, that's not what he believes, sir. As far as he's concerned, she's a traitor."

  Huntley suppressed a shiver. “It sounds like this Choake is the man Bennett is after. What more do you know?”

  Thomas met his eye. “Not much, he's well-off and lives on the mainland, has a strange name he has, Oswald Choake.”

  A fist squeezed all the blood from Huntley’s heart.

  "Say that again."

  "Oswald Choake."

  Huntley skin crawled.

  "What does this man look like?"

  "A gent—wealthy, above-average height, brown hair and an arrogant way about him—oh, and a long, roman nose."

  “Oswald!” He whispered in dread. With a calmness he did not feel he turned to the footman. “Jenkins, kindly tell me, where is Miss Tyler?”

  "Went out to walk the dog, Captain." Jenkins looked a little queasy. "Come to think of it, she's a little late back. Usually back an hour or so by now…"

  All the fires of hell started to burn in Huntley’s blood. “Jenkins, get the maid to check Miss Tyler hasn’t returned unannounced. Tyler, come with me.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  "This way." Without slowing, Oswald shouted over his shoulder. Even with Jasper under his arm, Oswald's pace didn’t falter and Hope had to run to catch up.

  "Wait a moment." Hope panted. "Where are we heading?"

  "The cove." Oswald grunted, without slackening his stride. "I can trust you not to betray free traders?"

  Hope swallowed hard. "Of course."

  "Then I can tell you. I know your father because he works for me—as indeed you used to."

  "I don’t understand."

  "Talk later. Keep up or we'll be too late."

  Oswald took off again, his coattails flapping. Once more Hope set off behind him. As the track narrowed and became less clear, branches blocked the way and brambles dragged at her skirt. Oswald was forced to slow to clear a path. Hope tipped her head and heard the distant shush of the sea.

  "Are you sure this is the way?" Hope grew uneasy.

  "Here or hereabouts."

  "Perhaps we should go back?"

  "We've not strayed far. We'll keep going and rejoin the track."

  "Wouldn’t it be easier to retrace our steps?"

  "No!" His vehemence startled her. "Take the damned dog. It's no wonder I got distracted, carting this mutt around." He thrust Jasper at her.

  Her heart thudded, and not from exertion. Jasper whimpered and she smoothed his head to reassure him.

  "We haven't time for that. Come." There was thinly disguised menace in his tone. "If we are to reach your father in time."

  Hope quailed inwardly, as slowly she followed. "You were there when he fell?"

  Oswald's shoulders tensed. "Yes. On shingle, hit his head on the boat."

  Slow seconds ticked by. "So he can’t walk?"

  "No."

  “Then we should go back and get a boat. Approach the bay by sea. It will be difficult to bring him back up the steep woodland path.”

  “You misunderstand,” Oswald looked crazed, “I have no wish to alarm you but your father is fighting for life. Delay is not advisable.”

  With every passing second, doubt grew. Oswald moved closer to take her arm, but Hope stepped back out of reach.

  “Best you lead on.”

  "Very well."

  With a frown Oswald set off again, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting her to flee. Hope dragged her feet, deliberately letting her skirts tangle in the briars, so she had to stop to free herself, anything —but delay reaching the beach. Her mind raced. Surely Oswald's erratic behavior was because he didn’t want the smuggling discovered?

  “Ouch!” Hope squealed, and bent to rub her leg. “Oh, dear.” She tried to hobble forward, but winced.

  “What’s the matter now?”

  “Twisted my ankle.”

  “Take my arm.”

  “No thank you. I just need to sit for a while.”

  Exasperation flashed across his face.

  “We haven't the time.”

  “And I tell you, I can’t go on.”

  As she made to lower herself to the ground, Oswald grabbed her arm. Jasper stiffened, prowling forward, his hackles raised.

  “Get out of my way, dog.”

  A low rumbling growl issued from his tiny frame.

  “Jasper doesn't like you touching me.”

  “We’ll soon see about that.” Before she knew what he was about, Oswald swung his leg and kicked Jasper hard across the hips. The dog yelped pitifully. “Be off, runt.” Oswald swung for another kick again but Jasper slunk out of range. “Now get up, before I kick you too.”

  Fuelled by rage, Hope stood and glared at him. “There was no need to hurt the dog.”

  “That’s the least of your problems. Now—come.” With her elbow painfully squeezed in his hand he shoved her forward. She glanced around, fearful if Jasper was seriously hurt, but to her relief, the dog had disappeared.

  "No."

  Oswald reached into his jacket and pulled out a knife. "Then let me motivate you with this." He grabbed her arm, pressing the tip of the blade against her ribs. "And don’t think I wouldn’t use it. Walk."

  She felt the prick of the knife against her skin and did his bidding. They walked in silence, Hope in the lead, the blade at her back. The woodland began to thin, hawthorn gave way to horsetails and ferns. Then, over the crest of the next hill, she glimpsed the sea.

  Every year after heavy rain, a new part of the hillside crumbled into the sea. Suddenly, the ground shelved away as if they had reached the edge of the world.

  "Go on." Oswald nudged her onto a narrow chalk ledge. Heart thumping, she stepped down, to find the track across the cliff-face leading down to the cove. With little choice, Hope started the steep descent to the beach. Where the hillside had crumbled and trees held on by their roots, the rain had washed away what sparse covering of soil there was. A path of sorts zigzagged down the cliff face, using the exposed roots as a form of steps. The sea a dizzying distance below. Far below. Hope made out trees which had fallen crashing to the beach below, their trunks now stripped bare and bleached by the pounding tides.

  Halfway down, a sea fog rose up to meet them, as if they were descending into cloud. Oswald
pinched her arm, pushing her on. She stumbled and clutched wildly for a handhold, landing with a thump on her bottom.

  “Ouch.”

  “Get up.”

  Gripping her armpit, he yanked her upright. Hope boiled with indignation. Anger lifted her above fear—she was damned if she was going to make this easy for him..

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Get moving.”

  “No.” She stamped her foot, and overbalancing, threw herself back against tree roots. "If you wish me harm, do it here, don’t drag me all the way down.”

  “You think I wish you harm?” Oswald grinned and had never seemed more sinister.

  “Why else would you be doing this? If you want rid of me,” she gestured wildly at the air, “push me over the edge. Don’t make me walk to the bottom.” She grew bolder as she grew more irate. “It will look like an accident, as if I tripped and fell. People will assume I was looking for Jasper and slipped in the fog.”

  She bit her lip, belatedly realising it wasn’t the wisest choice to give her would-be murderer such an idea.

  “Oh no, Miss Tyler, you have me all wrong. It's not you I wish to hurt.”

  “You don’t?” Giddy with relief she almost laughed

  “No, it’s not you I wish to punish—but Captain Huntley.”

  Hope’s heart settled like a stone in her boots. "Not me?"

  “Because of him, you have to suffer, a quick death won’t do. He took from me, so I take from him. Huntley must pay.”

  "Why? I don’t understand?"

  But Oswald wasn’t listening but muttering to himself. "I nearly succeeded, with Lady Ryevale , such a trusting soul, accepting a drink from a stranger. A shame I didn’t know then how precious you are to Huntley. Her Ladyship suffered that agony for nothing! "

  Hope gasped. "You poisoned Lady Ryevale?"

  "Of course."

  "She didn’t even know you. What harm had Her Ladyship done you?"

  "You miss the point. Her son must know the pain of loss—and that means harming those he cares for, the closer the better."

  Clearly Oswald was deranged. Dumbfounded, Hope glanced around for help. She was perched on the side of a cliff with a madman. She fought back hysteria as she contemplated clawing at Oswald’s eyes and pushing him off the path, but he was stronger than her and had a knife.

  He shook his head. “I wouldn’t try it. Besides, you cling to the hope that someone will rescue you, so why take the risk?” His smirked. “But of course, no one is coming, because no one knows I am here. They think I'm on the Island.”

  “And father,” she whimpered, “he isn’t on the beach?" Fear told her to keep Oswald talking.

  “No, I had him beaten to a pulp. He wouldn’t obey me, you see.”

  “Oh!”

  “And by the time you are late for supper and found missing, it will be dark. They will search the woods—but no one will go to the beach. Quite simply, they won’t look there. And in the morning, when eventually they send a boat, they will see your poor lifeless body, drowned on the rising tide.”

  Gripped by raw fear, Hope couldn’t breathe.

  “Imagine the water lapping at your toes, soaking your skirts as it claws up your legs, to compress your chest, and then fill your mouth and nose. Night after night, Huntley will have nightmares, knowing how you fought to keep alive. How you strained at the ropes, sucking air through pursed lips into your gasping lungs as you tried to keep your head against the waves—and those last moments, as the tides ebb and flow, granting a reprieve only to have it snatched away with the next wave—‘tis enough to drive a man insane.”

  “Why?” Sobbed Hope, wide-eyed. “What has he ever done to you?”

  “He killed my brother!" He pushed her roughly. “Walk. There’ll be plenty of time for storytelling, as the tide rises.”

  *****

  Hope slithered the last few yards and landed with a thump on her backside. Her first instinct was to flee, but the ground rumbled as Oswald landed beside her, his hand gripping her shoulder. She felt the prick of a metal blade in the small of her back.

  “Weren't thinking of running, were you?” his voice heavy with menace

  “No, not at all. I was getting out of the way in case you stumbled.” She willed herself to stay calm. Perhaps if she could keep him talking and win his sympathy, she might catch him off guard.

  “Which cove is this?”

  “I’m not after pretty conversation. Be quiet and walk.”

  The cold blade of a knife nudged her in the back, forcing her to step forward. She had never been down to this beach before and it appeared to be a secluded bay, with a sandy beach which turned to shingle along the waterline. It was a private spot, much beloved she guessed, of smugglers because of the woodland which curved around it. Hope suppressed a wave of panic. The chances were, that even when people realised she was missing, they wouldn't search here. She had to keep Oswald talking, buy time while she formed a plan. He jabbed at her, pushing her across the beach toward the sea.

  “Ouch! No need to be so rough, it’s not as if I can run away.”

  “Seeing sense at last.”

  “At least tell me why you're using me to get to Huntley?”

  A dry chortle echoed from the gathering darkness. “Come now, Miss Tyler, no need to be so coy.”

  “Truly. I have no idea.”

  Behind her Oswald leaned in close, his breath warm against her cheek. She shuddered. “He took someone I loved, so I’ll take from him. At the Langham’s Ball, I heard Huntley declare his undying love and propose to you.”

  A sense of unreality gripped Hope.

  “And you think it’s right, to take the life of an innocent person to avenge the death of another?”

  “In this case, yes. But since you put it so prettily, and because I like you, I will ensure you are unconscious before you suffer a slow death from drowning.”

  A chill settled on Hope’s bones and she cast around for help.

  “If I am to die, might I know whose death it is I’m avenging?”

  Oswald had her arm now, gripping the elbow so tightly she feared it might snap. Night was approaching and she felt doubly helpless. The sand turned to shingle underfoot, and just a short distance away she saw the white foam of breakers reaching the shore. She shuddered. On a night like this, drowning would be a cold and miserable death. She dragged her feet, fascinated by the water, fearing to go near it as if it were made of acid.

  “I don’t like the cold.” She said simply.

  “Can’t do anything about that.”

  Hope refused to move. In a deft movement, Oswald swept her over his shoulder like a sack of coal and marched to a fallen tree on the water's edge. As he thumped her down on the fallen tree trunk, she felt a sense of relief. She had expected him to force her into the sea and push her head under, hold it there until her throat and lungs filled with water. Dare she hope he only intended to frighten her?

  Menacingly, he planted his arms either side of her body, pushing his face into hers. She turned her head away to evade his kiss. In the growing darkness she could picture the snarl of his upper lip and sarcastic crease of his brow. He breathed heavily, the weight of his presence oppressive. The wind whipped in off the sea throwing up salt spray, prickling her skin. She shuddered again.

  “Why?” she whispered. “Why hate Huntley so much?”

  She felt Oswald grow tense.

  “He took everything.” A globule of spittle hit her cheek. “Before he arrived, smuggling was profitable and people turned a blind eye.” Rage shimmered off his body and Hope cowered.

  “George was only a small part of the Excise men’s work—it wasn’t just him.”

  “No? But it was him that made the difference. For starters, he caught you….”

  “I could have been hung, but he spared me.”

  “Because he lusted after you.”

  “No! Not at all,…that wasn’t it at all.” Hope’s insides turned to ice.

&nb
sp; “Tis what the Excise men said.”

  Her heart beat in hammer blows. “No, he hated me at first. It was Lady Ryevale who stopped him handing me over.”

  The heat of rage radiated from Oswald’s skin. The wind eddied around them, tugging and pulling at their words.

  “Traitor! You betrayed your own kind.”

  Hope shook her head. “Never! I never betrayed anyone.” Her mind raced as she struggled to explain. “It was me who learned the landing had been rumbled! It was on my information that you were able to substitute fish offal. How was that betrayal?”

  Silence, except for Oswald’s heavy breathing. She waited.

  “I’ll tell you why! Because you were looking out for yourself. As long as you were comfortable, we could all go to hell.”

  “No. You’ve got it all wrong. It wasn’t like that at all.”

  “Then tell me how it was.” He voice rumbled low with menace.

  Acid despair stuck in her craw. How could she explain, for the answer hung on the difference between right and wrong, and she doubted Oswald would understand.

  “I never did anything to harm anyone. Merciful heavens, once I was a smuggler. My brother and father still are. Do you seriously think I’d do anything to endanger my own kin?”

  “Indirectly, you're culpable.”

  “No. Please…let me go. I've done nothing.”

  Hope tried to wriggle away as Oswald pressed closer. Seated on the trunk, he stood pressed between her legs, arms either side of her body, pressing her backward. Everything happened so quickly, she had no idea what had happened. Oswald pinioned her against the tree trunk, like a butterfly on a pad. She tried to struggle and free herself, but his grip tightened.

  “Lie still.”

  But Hope had no intention of cooperating and taking best guess at the location of Oswald’s groin, swung her knee up hard. A dull groan was her reward, swiftly followed by a stinging slap to her face. Roughly he grabbed her hair, yanking it by the roots. Repeatedly he hammered her head against the tree trunk, a dull thudding pain slamming up through her skull —until she blacked out.