by Anne Herries
To her delight, there were two addressed to her when she collected the letters and two for her great-aunt. She slipped them into her reticule and set off towards the drapery shop. As she did so, she saw a man cross the street and go into an inn. It was not the posting inn that most travellers used, but the shabby-looking place at the other end of the street, frequented by fishermen and the rougher elements of the village. He had not seen her, but Marianne recognised the coat he was wearing, though his back was towards her and a hat with a brim was pulled down low over his face.
She felt an icy tingle at the nape of her neck. Her instincts had not played her false. Mr Hambleton could not have gone to London when he said, for he would not have had time to complete his business and return. It must be that he had other business in the area…business that he kept separate from his visits to Sawlebridge House.
Marianne hesitated, for she knew that she could not enter such an inn. She would be noticed at once because no respectable young woman would set foot in such a place. Yet it would be wrong to let this opportunity slip away. On the verge of crossing the road, she saw another man approach and go inside. Once again, her instincts told her that she knew him, even though he was wearing the clothes of a fisherman.
What was Captain Beck doing dressed like that? Was he in disguise so that he could follow Mr Hambleton—or was there some other reason for his appearance? She knew so little of him. It was possible that he might be here for reasons other than he had told her. Could he be one of the smugglers himself?
No! She would not let herself think ill of him, even if his manner towards her the previous morning had been reserved and a little withdrawn. She would continue to trust him. It was all she could do, since she could not follow Joshua Hambleton into an inn of that nature.
Frowning, she crossed the street and went into the shop that had given her so much pleasure on her previous visit. She would buy some ribbons, buckram and velvet and fashion a pretty green bonnet to give Jane as a gift for her wedding.
Marianne was thoughtful as she walked home. The smuggling had clearly been going on around these parts for a while. What had changed? Why had Mr Hambleton decided that he needed to get her great-aunt out of the house now? It was unlikely that either she or Marianne would venture into the old mine workings. There must be some other reason…
Supposing the mine was not where they wished to store the contraband? Marianne suddenly recalled the night she had heard something and got up to investigate. She had seen Joshua coming from the kitchens and wondered what he had been doing there. She felt a tingling sensation at the nape of her neck as an explanation occurred to her. Could there be extensive cellars beneath the house—and a tunnel leading to them?
Marianne had always thought it odd that the pony tracks should be so easy to find the morning after it had rained so hard. Supposing Joshua Hambleton had realised that Drew was keeping watch for signs of smuggling activity and had decided to lead him to the old mine? He could have deliberately chosen a night when the ground was wet and planted a few barrels and packages to make Drew believe that he had found their hiding place. If a watch were being kept at the old mine, which she was sure it must be, that would leave the smugglers free to bring in their cargo at another place.
She was almost certain she was right. Surely it could be the only reason he wanted Lady Edgeworthy out of the house. If the smugglers planned to use the cellars for a special cargo, it might mean there was a secret way into them. And that meant that Joshua could come and go as he pleased. She felt cold all over.
She had reached the top of the hill. Marianne knew that she must tell Drew of her suspicions. Instead of going straight home, she would go to the house on the cliffs and leave a message for him.
She turned in the direction of Drew’s house, walking swiftly now, because the detour would make her late for nuncheon.
As she approached the house, Marianne stopped to look down at the cove. The tide was right out that morning and there was a fairly wide beach. She was about to turn away when she saw two men suddenly appear, seemingly out of nowhere. They must have come from the cave Drew had spoken of and one of them was Joshua, the other a seaman who appeared to be local. She thought that they must have come from the village beach and rounded the cliff to reach the cave, which would have taken far less time than it had taken her to reach the top of the cliffs. From her position, they appeared to be having an argument, which ended with the seaman striding off towards the ridge of cliffs that cut the cove off from the village beach. At that very moment, Joshua looked up.
Marianne drew back immediately, but she was not sure whether or not he had caught sight of her. She walked quickly up to the front door of the cliff house and knocked. After a moment or two a man answered it. Everything about him shouted that this was an ex-soldier, and Marianne smiled inwardly as he looked at her with his one good eye. Given a parrot and a wooden leg, he would be a match for any pirate.
‘You would be Miss Horne, I dare say,’ he said, his one good eye fixing her with a gleam of interest. ‘If you was wishful to see the captain, he ain’t here. He should be back in an hour or two.’
‘I must get home—I am expected,’ Marianne replied and smiled at him. ‘I have some news for Captain Beck.’ She opened her reticule and took out a tiny notepad in a pretty enamelled case, using a little silver-cased pencil to write a few words about her suspicions concerning the cellars at Sawlebridge House, and telling him that she had seen Joshua Hambleton on the beach. ‘If you would be so kind as to give him this, sir.’ She tore off a scrap of paper and gave it to the pirate.
‘Name’s Harris,’ Robbie said. ‘Robbie to the captain and my friends, miss. I’ll give him your message right and tight. You’d best get home or you’ll be in trouble.’
‘Yes, I shall,’ Marianne said. ‘I am pleased to have met you, Mr Harris.’
‘Likewise, I’m sure,’ Robbie said and grinned at her. ‘I ain’t surprised the captain hardly knows where he’s coming from.’
Marianne nodded and walked away. It was odd, but she felt as if she had been scrutinised and passed some sort of test. She would have to hurry now or she would be late.
After nuncheon, Marianne settled down to read the letters from her sisters. Lucy had written about some wild flowers she was pressing into a book, which was to be her journal, also a trip into Huntingdon with Mama and the new dress she was making.
I do miss you, dearest Marianne, she had written, but Mama says that I must accept it because you will marry one day. Promise me that I can come and stay when you do, because I do not think I could bear it if I hardly ever saw you again! I am making you a present, but I must not tell you what, for I wish it to be a surprise for your birthday.
Marianne smiled and folded the letter. She missed her sisters, too, but she knew that Lucy was just having one of her blue days, perhaps because it was raining. She turned to Jo’s letter next.
Aunt Wainwright has put off our trip for a few weeks, because poor Uncle Wainwright had a fall from his horse and broke his arm. I think it shook him quite a bit and when I visited him he was in some pain. So we shall not go to Bath just yet, for which I am not sorry, especially as my uncle has given me permission to borrow as many books from his library as I please. He apologised for spoiling my pleasure and I told him that I would as soon visit him as go to Bath, which made him smile. He is rather a dear, you know, and it is a pity that she does not appreciate him, though I should not say it for Mama would be cross with me, but you know what I mean.
Enough of me! How are you, my dearest sister? And who is the mysterious Mr Beck of whom you last wrote? Do you really think there might be smugglers in the cove? How exciting! I do wish that I was there with you—so does Lucy. We cut out a new dress in the back parlour the other day, but it wasn’t as much fun as when you were with us. Besides, you are better at sewing than either of us, though I have been making hats and I think they have turned out very well. But I hope you are having fun and not thinking
of us at all. Your loving sister, Jo.
Marianne read both letters again before placing them in her writing box, which was covered in red leather and edged with gold leaf. It was a particularly handsome thing and had been a present from her father. She ran her hand over the smooth leather and smiled, because her family was very precious to her. She supposed that she would always miss Papa, but she knew that she had been lucky to be brought up in such a happy home. She felt a little sorry for her Uncle Wainwright, who, as Jo said, was largely unappreciated by his wife.
How nice it would be if Aunt Bertha did ask her mama and Lucy to stay for a while. Jo, too, if she had not yet departed for Bath. She decided that she would write to her sisters and her mama again that evening.
Drew remained in his hiding place until the local fisherman had disappeared from view and Joshua Hambleton had gone into the cave once more. This time Drew had had a much better view of what was taking place, and he had caught enough of what they were saying to know that they were arguing about some goods that were due to be brought in in a few days’ time.
Robbie had thought that it would be some weeks or months before they risked another cargo, but Drew had had his reservations. The barrels and bales he had discovered in the old mine workings were only a small part of a cargo; it wouldn’t be worth the risk of being caught by the Revenue men to bring in so few barrels of brandy. That meant there had to be somewhere else—perhaps somewhere that had an underground tunnel leading to it.
The hoof marks he had followed were too obvious. He had felt it at the time, though he had wondered if it was just the smugglers being careless on a wet night. However, now that he was certain that the man who called himself Joshua Hambleton was the disgraced army officer Lieutenant Humble, he no longer thought the tracks were an accident. They were clearly meant to distract him, keep him busy watching the wrong place while a larger, more important cargo was brought in—and perhaps something, or someone, more important than contraband. He believed Jack had been right to suspect that the smuggling was a cover for something far more dangerous. Hambleton needed to be stopped! With his connections, it was possible that he was passing valuable information to the French.
But where was the new hiding place to be? Drew was thoughtful as he left his vigil. He had found only the one tunnel leading to the rhododendron valley, but there must be another. His quarry had not returned from the cave, so this was not a good time to explore, but he would certainly return there another time and try to discover if he had missed something the first time.
The drop had to be somewhere on the estate. Drew knew that there were several barns that were hardly used these days, but he had seen no sign of anything having been stored anywhere. He had probably been noticed walking about the estate. His presence at the cliff house had raised their suspicions, bringing Joshua Hambleton down here. It seemed obvious that he must be the mastermind behind what was going on—particularly if Jack was right and he was the one who had betrayed them to the French in Spain.
If Lieutenant Humble were the traitor, he was a ruthless man who cared more for money than loyalty to his friends, which meant that he would not stop at murder to get his own way. Marianne and her great-aunt might well be in danger.
Drew had intended to stay away from her, because he knew that if he met her often enough he would not be able to keep himself from making love to her. She deserved a better man than he was—or at least the man he had been—but he had found it hard to stay away from her, though at this moment marriage was far from his mind. Had she been less well connected, he would have asked her to be his mistress, but perhaps a flirtation would be all that either of them desired in the end. A few kisses could not harm anyone. If he knew that he was lying to himself, he refused to admit it.
Whatever the case, he would have to go to the house and warn her again, but first he must speak to Robbie.
Doctor Thompson had arrived early for tea and requested an interview with Lady Edgeworthy. Marianne went out into the garden, thinking that she would cut a few flowers until it was time for tea. She had spoken to her aunt’s gardener earlier, and they had discussed where best the flowers for the house should be cut without spoiling the pretty garden. She had begun to place some sweet-scented roses with long stems into her basket when she saw Drew walking towards her. Her heart quickened at the sight of him, her eyes glowing though she fought down the urgent longing the sight of him aroused in her. She must remain cool and a little distant, for she did not wish him to believe that she was setting her cap at him.
‘You got my note?’
‘Yes, Robbie told me you had called. It seems that we both had the same idea, Marianne. I was not sure until I saw Lieutenant Humble again this morning. I do not know if he gave a false name when he joined the army—or whether he has since stolen the identity of your aunt’s relative. Tell me, does she know him well?’
‘I believe they had never met…until a few weeks after her cousin died.’
‘So your great-aunt was grieving for a young man she loved and Joshua suddenly turns up, claiming to be her husband’s cousin…’ Drew’s eyes narrowed. ‘It sounds suspicious, do you not think so?’
‘I have felt there was something false about him from the start,’ Marianne declared. ‘But Aunt Bertha seemed to like him…’ She hesitated, then, ‘I did not tell you in my note, but he has been trying to persuade her to lease him the estate and move to Bath for her health’s sake. She is quite upset about it.’
‘He needs a free hand on the estate,’ Drew said. ‘I think what I found was merely a decoy. They must be planning to bring in a much larger cargo—and perhaps more.’
‘What do you mean?’ Marianne’s clear gaze made him hesitate. He knew that she was deliberately holding back from him, because he had hurt her at their last meeting.
He hesitated, then, ‘I ought not to tell you, because it could mean more danger for you—and I fear that you may already be in more danger than you realise.’
Her eyes challenged him. ‘But if you tell me, I shall be even more aware than I am now.’
‘I do not know for certain, but I think that Humble or Hambleton, whatever he calls himself, may be working for the French in other ways.’
‘You mean he is a spy?’
‘Yes.’ Drew frowned. ‘He is a thoroughly unpleasant character—and would not hesitate to kill. If he tried to dispose of your great-aunt in a subtle way, it was only because he did not want to be suspected. Had you not come on the scene, her death might have been put down to natural causes and no one would ever have suspected him.’
‘How could he be so callous when she has been nothing but generous towards him?’ Marianne cried, her distress making her forget that she had meant to keep her distance with him. ‘Oh, Drew, what shall I do?’ She used his name without realising that it was revealing more than she wished or was wise.
‘There isn’t much you can do except remain watchful.’ Drew moved towards her, wanting to comfort her, but resisting the impulse to pull her into his arms. ‘He is quite possibly a ruthless impostor who came here with the intention of worming his way into her good books and stealing from her—to be left the estate would be beyond his dreams. Or he may have chosen her and the estate because it was ideal for his sly work. Either way, he had not bargained with you coming to stay.’
‘Should I tell her of our suspicions?’
‘Not yet,’ Drew said. ‘I need to catch him and his French counterpart in the act, Marianne. If he escapes, he may assume another identity and I shall lose him.’
She looked into his face, seeing his serious expression and sensing something deeper. ‘This means a great deal to you, doesn’t it?’
‘I believe that he may have been responsible for an ambush that led to the deaths of twenty of my men and fellow officers. The mission we were on was secret, but the enemy was waiting for us. Someone betrayed us, and I now believe that it was the man we knew as Lieutenant Humble. He was in charge of the transport of ammunition, foo
d, baggage. We hardly noticed him, except to complain when things were delayed—and perhaps he resented that. He certainly resented being dismissed from the army for cheating at the card table.’
‘Oh, Drew,’ Marianne said, her tone one of distress. ‘You must have been so angry…so grieved by the loss of all those men.’
‘It sent me mad for a while,’ he said grimly. A nerve flicked in his cheek, his expression bleak. ‘I had always been a little wild, but after that I cared nothing for my own life. I wanted to kill the enemy and to die…and I might have, had it not been for a good friend. He saved my life and brought me back from the brink.’
‘Drew…’ Marianne instinctively put out a hand to comfort him.
He groaned, his resolve breaking as he pulled her into his arms, holding her close and gazing down at her. Marianne smiled tentatively, her mouth opening slightly as he lowered his head to kiss her. She melted into him, her senses reeling as she gave herself up to the pleasure of being in his arms once more. Hurt pride vanished as she felt him shudder and knew that whatever was between them was something stronger than mere lust.
He gave her a rueful grin as he let her go at last. ‘Forgive me, I forgot that I was meant to ask next time.’
‘I do not think that I should have said no,’ she said in a husky voice. ‘Though perhaps I ought, for this is not the behaviour of a modest young woman.’
‘You need not fear me,’ Drew said, touching her cheek with his fingertips. ‘I would never go beyond what you permitted. I have never taken an unwilling woman in my life, and have too much respect for you to distress you in any way. Moreover, until this business is settled, I dare not let myself think of you, Marianne. I need my wits about me—and you need yours. If Hambleton comes back here, you must be very careful. If he suspected that we were more than acquaintances, he might harm you in some way.’
