Marianne & the Marquis

by Anne Herries

  Something caught her eye in the cove below. A man had appeared from nowhere and was walking towards a small boat that had come inshore. She was too far away to be able to distinguish the man’s features as he waded out to it, but there was something about his appearance that she found odd. He was clearly a seaman, and that in itself was not surprising, but it was the cap he was wearing on his head…the style of it was unusual. It seemed to be made of some material that fitted snugly to his head, hanging down in a sort of tail at the back—and it was red…

  It was the style of cap often worn by the French revolutionaries! Marianne recalled the sketches she had seen in one of her father’s newspapers. He had showed it to her because there was a long article about the rights of man and the French revolution.

  The man had got into the boat and was being rowed away from the shore. Marianne stood watching as it pulled away. Now that she looked, she could see that a sailing ship was moored out in the bay, clearly waiting to pick up the man she had just seen. Where had he come from—and who was he?

  Marianne frowned as she turned away. She did not think the man was a Cornish fisherman, nor that his ship was a small fishing vessel. She thought that both the man and his ship looked French, though she had only her instinct to guide her. She had seldom been to the seaside and had seen very few ocean-going ships, but she had seen pictures in her father’s books and journals.

  What was a French ship doing in the bay at this hour? It was early in the morning, but if it were an enemy ship it ran the risk of being discovered by the Revenue men. It was almost sure to be a smuggling vessel if it were French, she thought, wondering why it had not sailed under cover of darkness. Of course, it might be perfectly innocent…

  Glancing to her right, she saw that she was not alone in watching the ship. Another man was standing near the house she had seen from her bedroom window, and he was looking out to sea through his spyglass. At that moment he turned his head to look at her. From something in his manner, she felt that he was annoyed to see her there, but he made no move to approach her or to speak to her. And, as she watched, he shut the glass and moved away, clearly intending to climb down the rocky face of the cliffs to the cove below. Recalling her great-aunt’s warnings, she called out to him.

  ‘Be careful, sir. The cliff is unstable and the cove can be treacherous.’

  He glanced at her and shook his head, frowning as he saw her, but he did not speak, making a gesture that she took to mean he did not wish her to speak or follow him. Marianne felt a spurt of annoyance. She had merely been trying to help him.

  Going to the spot where the steep path was just about passable, she watched as the man descended safely to the beach below. His face was hidden from her, her view only of the top of his head as he climbed down the dangerous cliff face. At the moment only a thin line of sand was visible, and she wondered if that was the reason that the ship had risked being seen in daylight. Perhaps it was only possible to take someone off when the tide was in?

  Suddenly, the man with the spyglass disappeared. He was there and a second later he had gone…completely disappeared from her view. For a moment she was puzzled, and then she realised that there must be a cave somewhere in the cove. The French seaman had come from it, and the man with the spyglass had disappeared into it!

  Turning away, back to the house, Marianne was thoughtful. Something was going on in her aunt’s cove, but what ought she to do about it? If smugglers were landing contraband there, she ought to report it to the Revenue—but was her great-aunt aware of what was happening?

  She knew that many people who lived in the area did know about the smugglers, and some of them turned a blind eye in return for a barrel of brandy left in their barns. She did not imagine that Aunt Bertha would be one of them, for her husband had been a Justice of the Peace, but she could not be sure.

  She would ask about the occupant of the house on the cliffs, because if he were a Revenue officer he would not want interference from her—and for the moment she would say nothing of what she had seen to anyone but her great-aunt. But one day, when the tide was out and it was safe, she might go down to the cove and see if she could discover the cave for herself.

  It was only as she reached her aunt’s home that it occurred to her that the man she had seen on the cliffs that morning might just have been the same man that had helped to push Lady Forester’s coach from the road. How strange that would be, she thought—but of course she had not seen him clearly and she could have been mistaken. She smiled as she wondered if her imagination were playing tricks on her. For some reason the small incident had lingered in her mind, though she had no idea why it should.

  ‘Did you enjoy your walk this morning?’ Lady Edgeworthy asked when they were alone later that day. ‘I used to walk quite often when I was younger, but I do not care for it since my cousin died[ ]Cedric fell from the cliffs, you know. He was such a lovely young man, and he knew them so well…’ She sighed. ‘He lived in Cliff House, but I shut the house afterwards. It was empty for over a year, but I have recently let it to a gentleman. Mr Beck has been ill and the sea air may help him. He called on me yesterday, as it happens. Had you arrived an hour sooner you might have met him.’

  ‘How strange. I was about to ask who lived there,’ Marianne said. ‘I saw someone this morning. He was using a spyglass and looking out to sea.’

  ‘He will have been watching the gulls then,’ Lady Edgeworthy said with a smile. ‘He told me that he is a keen bird-watcher, and he is enjoying the peace and quiet here. I asked him to dine with us, but he asked if he might leave it for another time, as he is still not himself and he wishes to be alone. I think he must have been very ill indeed.’

  ‘Poor man,’ Marianne said, but wondered if the man she had seen had been her great-aunt’s tenant, for he had seemed to climb the cliff very confidently and did not appear to be ill. Indeed, when he had directed the disposal of Lady Forester’s coach he had looked very strong—if it had been the same man. She might have been mistaken, of course. ‘Aunt Bertha…’

  ‘I must tell you something,’ her great-aunt said suddenly. ‘It must remain our secret, Marianne, for I do not wish to upset Jane—but I think someone is trying to kill me…’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Marianne was so startled that her own questions were forgotten in an instant. ‘Did you say that someone was trying to kill you?’

  ‘Yes, I think at least one attempt has been made on my life and perhaps more are planned.’ Aunt Bertha looked upset, as well she might. ‘I know this must come as a shock, my dear, and I hate to burden you with it, but I have been in fear for some weeks now.’

  ‘What do you mean? What has happened to make you think it?’

  ‘It was when I was ill,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. ‘I had taken some of the sleeping draught that my doctor had left for me, but for some reason it had not worked as it ought. I was only half-awake, but I heard someone creeping about in my room. It was the chink of glass that woke me and I cried out. Whoever it was fled and I sat up, lighting my candle.’

  ‘That is very strange,’ Marianne said. ‘But what makes you think that that person was trying to harm you?’

  ‘Because the stopper had been taken from the laudanum,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. ‘It had been a full bottle that evening, but someone had poured half of it into the flask containing my peppermint cordial. If I had not been woken, I should not have known anything was amiss. Had I taken my medicine as usual, I might have died—as you may know, laudanum can kill if used to excess.’

  Marianne looked at her in silence. Lady Edgeworthy was not given to flights of fancy as far as she knew, and she realised that this must have been very distressing for her. It would be for anyone, but her great-aunt was vulnerable having few relations to care for her, and none living nearby.

  ‘Do you know who entered your room that night? Was it a man or a woman?’

  ‘It was too dark to see, for I was still drowsy and cried out before I opened my eyes. I saw only a dark
shadow. I think it may have been a man, for the shape was tall and slender…but I cannot be certain.’

  ‘Has anything more happened since then?’

  ‘I have taken to locking my door at night,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. ‘And I have placed my medicines in a locked cabinet…but there was the other thing…’ She hesitated, then, ‘Someone tried to break into the house two weeks ago. One of the servants was downstairs, because she had the toothache, and she raised the alarm. She said that she looked out of the window after she screamed and saw a man dressed in dark clothes running away.’

  ‘And you think it may have been the same person[ ]breaking in to make another attempt on your life?’ Marianne was startled and anxious; the matter was very serious if it were true, and her aunt would not lie.

  ‘I know it sounds foolish, and indeed I have told myself that I imagined the whole thing,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. ‘I have wished that it might be a dream, but in my heart I know that it happened.’

  ‘Who was in the house that night?’

  ‘Only the servants, Miss Rudge, myself—and Jane, of course.’ Miss Rudge was Lady Edgeworthy’s personal maid, and of a similar age to her mistress.

  ‘You do not think it was either Jane or Miss Rudge?’

  ‘No, of course not—and I do not think any of my servants would wish to harm me either.’ She shook her head. ‘I must have imagined it, must I not? Do you think that my illness disturbed the balance of my mind?’ She looked upset and confused, making Marianne instantly concerned.

  ‘No, Aunt, I do not,’ Marianne said. ‘If someone tried to get into the house…it must have been an intruder that night, Aunt Bertha. And yet I cannot imagine who would want to harm you.’

  ‘I am a wealthy woman,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. ‘I have some valuable jewellery actually in the house and money invested, besides this estate and the London house. Yet I cannot think…’ She shook her head. ‘I changed my will after Cedric died, leaving a proportion of it to your mama and the rest to…’ She sighed again. ‘I cannot believe that Joshua would wish to kill me. He has the London house for nothing and, besides, he is always so charming and kind.’

  ‘But you said he was not here when someone entered your room and interfered with the laudanum, Aunt,’ Marianne said. ‘If he resides in London, it is hardly likely that he came down just to put something in your medicine…’

  ‘Yes, I know, it sounds foolish. I have considered the possibility for he is the main heir, but I cannot think it. Jane has a small bequest, of course, and Dr Thompson.’

  Marianne looked at her thoughtfully. ‘What would happen to this house and the estate if you should die? Forgive me, but it seems I must ask.’

  ‘It might be sold, perhaps,’ Lady Edgeworthy replied. ‘Why do you ask that?’

  Marianne took a deep breath, then, ‘I saw something this morning in the cove and I wondered if it might be used for smuggling[ ]I am fairly certain there was a French ship in the bay.’

  ‘I do not understand, my dear.’ Lady Edgeworthy frowned and then nodded. ‘Oh, yes, I dare say it might be inconvenient for them—if one of us should see them bringing the goods ashore…’

  ‘It supplies a reason why someone other than your husband’s cousin or your companion might want you out of the way, does it not?’

  ‘Yes, it does,’ Lady Edgeworthy said and looked relieved. ‘Do you know, that makes me feel much better. I am glad that I told you, though it was not fair of me to lay such a burden on young shoulders.’

  ‘It is one I am well able to bear,’ Marianne said. ‘Now that I am here, I shall keep my eyes and ears open, Aunt. If I discover that someone is planning to harm you, I shall consult you at once about what we ought to do to see that you are protected.’

  ‘You are a good girl,’ Lady Edgeworthy said, giving her an affectionate look. ‘I confess it has been playing on my mind these past weeks, for I should hate to think that Joshua or Jane[ ]No, I cannot think it of either of them.’

  ‘It could not have been one of the maids?’ Marianne looked thoughtful. ‘The girl who was suffering from toothache…she could not have come into the room hoping to borrow some laudanum?’

  ‘Bessie is not a thief,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. ‘I am perfectly certain that she would have asked had she needed it for herself. I should have told her that Jensen has his own supplies for the maids’ use…but I am sure that she knows that and would have gone to him in the first place had she wanted it.’

  Marianne nodded, for in a house like this it was up to the butler and housekeeper to care for the needs of their assistants, and only a very reckless maidservant would risk taking medicine that belonged to her mistress. Yet it was an area that must be explored, if only for the purpose of elimination.

  ‘Perhaps she did not wish to disturb him. You know that the laudanum bottle was half-empty, but can you be sure it had been poured into your peppermint cordial?’

  ‘No, I cannot be certain. I assumed that it had and threw it away,’ Lady Edgeworthy said and frowned. ‘I suppose it might have been one of the servants…’ She looked unconvinced. ‘I did not think so at the time, but it could have been, of course, though I believe I almost prefer the idea that someone outside this house wants me out of the way.’

  ‘Yes, well, I think we must both be alert, but do not let it distress you too much, Aunt. If no further attempt has been made, it might just have been one of the maids looking to borrow your laudanum.’ Marianne sought to comfort her aunt, even though she thought it unlikely.

  ‘No, I shall not give way to melancholy,’ Lady Edgeworthy said stoutly. ‘I feel much more comfortable now that you are here, Marianne.’

  ‘Good. I am glad to be here with you,’ Marianne told her.

  She was thoughtful as she went upstairs to change for the evening. She did not imagine that a thief had broken into her aunt’s house to steal laudanum. It would be for some other reason, possibly something more menacing, she imagined. It might have been one of the servants, as she had suggested. And it was possible that it might suit the smugglers if the house were empty. However, a new master might be more suspicious about their activities than an elderly lady living alone. To Marianne’s mind, Miss Rudge was above reproach and that meant there were possibly three candidates for her suspicion at the moment, though she had tried to convince her aunt otherwise.

  It was difficult to think ill of Miss Trevor, who seemed a meek and loyal companion to Lady Edgeworthy, and she could think of no reason why her great-aunt’s doctor should wish to kill her—which meant that Mr Joshua Hambleton was the most likely of all. Unless the intruder had simply been a maid with the toothache, of course.

  It was a mystery, but Marianne was determined that she would get to the bottom of it, even if only to set her great-aunt’s mind at rest.

  The next two days passed pleasantly, for Marianne had settled into a routine. She went for walks in the mornings or performed small tasks, like picking and arranging flowers. Some of the soft fruit was ready for harvest, and one morning, she helped the maids in the task, picking redcurrants that would be made into jelly, and some raspberries for bottling and jam. In the afternoons Jane, Lady Edgeworthy and Marianne sat together, talking while they sewed or played cards, and sometimes Jane would read to them.

  Marianne studied Jane Trevor for any sign that she was resentful of her employer, but as far as she could tell Jane genuinely liked and respected Lady Edgeworthy. It was only on the third day, when Dr Thompson came to tea, that she noticed a slight agitation in the companion’s manner.

  Jane blushed as she passed him his tea and a plate of sweet biscuits, avoiding his eyes. When she sat down, she chose a chair near her employer and studiously avoided looking in his direction.

  ‘I trust that you have not been too busy of late, sir?’ Lady Edgeworthy asked the doctor. ‘There are not so many fevers and chills at this time of the year, I believe?’

  ‘No, perhaps not,’ he agreed. ‘But there was an unfortunate disaster at Wheal
Mary the other day, and I was called to attend the injuries of five miners who were hurt. Two others were killed by the fall and beyond my help, I fear.’

  ‘I am sorry to hear that,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. ‘I believe that particular mine has more than its fair share of accidents?’

  ‘Yes, indeed. I have spoken about safety to Sir Henry Milburn,’ the doctor said. ‘I am afraid that he refuses to listen. Until there is a law to protect workers in the mines, I fear there will continue to be accidents.’

  ‘Unfortunately there is little other work for the men in these parts,’ Lady Edgeworthy replied. ‘They must either face the dangers of the sea or the mines—unless they are lucky enough to be put to a trade when they are young.’

  ‘That costs money,’ the doctor said and glanced at Marianne. ‘It takes every penny a man earns to feed and clothe his family and it is seldom that they can afford to apprentice a son for seven years, when he could be working in the mine and contributing to the family income. You will not know of the conditions in this part of the world, Miss Horne. The land is not as fertile as you have in the east of the country, I think?’

  ‘I did not realise that life was so hard here,’ Marianne said and looked at him with interest. ‘Mama always offered charity to any who called at the Vicarage, but most of the people we knew worked on the land and were at least well fed and housed.’

  Doctor Thompson frowned. ‘I see several people each week that suffer from malnutrition or scurvy. I can help them, but what they truly need is a good diet and a decent house. The wages they earn provide them with neither.’

  ‘You must find that very frustrating, sir?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ he replied and then recalled himself. ‘Forgive me, this is hardly the kind of conversation for a lady’s parlour.’