The Major's Guarded Heart

by Isabelle Goddard

  ‘I’ll travel as far along the passage as I can. Listen out for my call.’

  He went to crouch down at the small aperture, then suddenly straightened up and walked back to her.

  ‘Gil is no more, but we must try to live—for him and for each other. But if anything should happen to me, Lizzie, if anything should happen to either of us, know that I love you.’

  He had said the words—words she had so wanted to hear—and joy, pure in its intensity, sang through her whole being. She wanted to clasp him to her, tell him not to risk his life alone. They would stay here together and face whatever fate had determined for them. But he was already bent double on hands and knees, and in a few seconds had disappeared from view.

  For anxious moments Lizzie clutched the candle, the light seeming ever dimmer in the encroaching darkness. She heard him scrabbling along the rocky surface, but gradually the noise faded and she heard nothing. Her pulse was beating fast and she tried to still it. If the passage proved a dead end, Justin would return, and if it did not he could go onwards and find help. Surely the water from the river did not come this far inland and she would be safe until rescue arrived. But the thought of staying for unknown hours in this dark, echoing hole, and with a dead man floating close by, was appalling.

  A faint sound came from the aperture, Justin’s voice seeming to come from a long distance. She bent down to hear and as she did so, the candle dropped from her hand and went out. Thick blackness engulfed her, for not even the slightest sliver of moonlight found its way this deep into the cliff. She felt the beginnings of a new panic rising to take her in its grip.

  His voice sounded again and this time she could make out several words. ‘Come, long passage, more light.’

  There would need to be, she thought fearfully, but she followed his example and stripped off her sodden gown and petticoat. Then, crouching down near to where she thought the entrance to the passageway should be located, she felt along the wall with her hands. It took her some minutes to find it, but then she was on her knees and crawling forwards, trying not to think of what she was doing. She could see nothing, just feel the hot, close darkness. She moved slowly along the passage, shuffling forwards in an endless and unforgiving journey. The sharp flints bit into her soft flesh and the walls on either side seemed intent on crushing her between them. She must not think, she must keep her mind a blank, until she came out at the other side. She thought she must be travelling upwards and now she could hear Justin’s voice growing louder, then just the glimmer of light, and at last the hazy outline of his form. She was through! She collapsed nervelessly on the floor and he had to scoop her into his arms to set her back on her feet.

  ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘Not hurt—terrified. I cannot bear enclosed spaces.’

  He smoothed her hair from her face and kissed each eyelid. ‘My poor darling. What have I brought you to?’

  ‘I brought myself,’ she reminded him. ‘But I find that, after all, I am a coward.’

  ‘Dearest Lizzie, a coward is something you are not! But see—your courage is rewarded. There is more light here—it is very little, but it must be coming from somewhere. We have travelled nearer the surface.’

  He took her hand again and together they began to work their way around the huge boulders of chalk that over the years had detached themselves from the walls. With bare feet, the terrain was rough and painful, but they managed to make good progress and within a quarter of an hour stood facing what appeared to be the end of the massive chamber. Justin moistened his finger and held it high.

  ‘I thought so. There is a current of air here and it’s quite strong. I wonder...it seems to be coming from that far corner.’

  She looked to the left, to the spot he was indicating, and hoped he was wrong. ‘It’s very dark—it doesn’t look too promising.’

  ‘Yet I would bet my regimentals that that is the way out.’

  And so it proved. Hidden in the depths of the darkness was the first of many steps which had been hewn from the rock by some unknown hand. One step at a time, they mounted the spiral staircase, winding round and round up the cavern face until Lizzie fell into a veritable stupor. The lack of sleep, the terror of being trapped and the dreadful moment when they had found Gil’s body were combining to make her feel she was walking through a parallel world.

  Justin had his arms around her waist and lifted her bodily up the last few steps, only for them to face once more a blank wall. Surely they could not have endured all this for nothing. But the faintest pencil of light was visible, light which traced the shape of a door. Justin put his shoulders to it and there was a loud cracking. A rush of fresh air hit them in the face. They were out, standing in moonlight, standing in the middle of the folly.

  ‘I always wondered where that door led to.’ There was a surprised look on his face. ‘Whenever I came to tea as a child, I would play here and marvel at it—a door without a handle!’

  She sank down on to cushions, body and mind exhausted, and when he followed her, they stayed locked in grateful silence. Then, without warning, tears began to fill her eyes and spill down her cheeks. He wiped them away as delicately as he could with the palm of his hand.

  ‘No handkerchief, I fear,’ he apologised.

  She looked at him and shook her head. It was too ridiculous and she could not prevent a small giggle. The bandages around his wrist were dark with dirt and dried blood. His underwear was green with the slime of seaweed, his wonderful golden hair sticky with chalk and his naked feet cut and bruised.

  ‘Laugh away, Miss Ingram! But consider—how elegant do you look right now?’

  She knew that she must be the most frightful sight, but she cared not a jot. They were safe, they were alive and they were together. No matter that he would soon be packing to leave, he loved her. She would cherish that for the rest of her life.

  He put his arms around her and gave her a gentle kiss. He tasted warm and salty and she kissed him back. He kissed her again, hugging her near-naked body to his, caressing her softness with his hands until they broke from each other in sudden dismay. The image of Gil, so lately left behind, haunted them. Yet the drive to live and love was so strong that within a minute they had begun to kiss again, more and more fiercely, until she shivered from the penetrating cold. The realisation that they were both soaked to the skin was a sobering thought.

  ‘We should not be dallying here,’ she managed breathlessly. ‘We must get warm. And should we not alert the preventives?’

  ‘I warned them there might be trouble tonight and their ship, The Stag, is waiting off the coast. I told them that the gang were due to make their run to France—presumably after they’d disposed of me.’

  ‘And how did you come by that information?’

  He smiled. ‘Was I not a smuggler, too? I didn’t admit to it, of course. I was suitably vague when I sent a message to the new excise man, but with luck he will have alerted his colleagues and they will catch the gang red-handed.’

  ‘Then we are quite done with our adventuring.’ She felt strangely empty. Justin loved her, she must hold on to that, and if this night were the beginning and the end of their love, then at least she would have the memory. But somehow that didn’t make the emptiness go away.

  ‘I wouldn’t say quite,’ he said enigmatically. ‘But right now, it is a hot bath and warm sheets that we need.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lizzie had never been so fussed over. Hester had heard her stumbling up the stairs before dawn and had taken the sight of a bedraggled, near-naked girl surprisingly well. Her first response was to boil cans of water and plunge Lizzie into a hot bath. Only when the young woman was wrapped in sheets warmed by a hot brick and sipping milk straight from the stove did she ask for an explanation. Lizzie told her story haltingly and even to her ears it sounded fantastical. The maid listened stolidl
y without passing comment and, when the last words had been murmured, said only, ‘You should sleep now.’ Lizzie thought that highly unlikely. She had passed the most terrifying night of her life and her mind was still vivid with fearful images. But as soon as her eyelids drooped, sheer exhaustion sent her into a deep sleep where she stayed until well into the afternoon.

  * * *

  It was her employer tiptoeing into the room that finally awoke her. A single beam of light was cutting a bright passage through the curtains and she glimpsed the hazy outline of Mrs Croft’s figure. She blinked as the old lady came to hover at the foot of the bed.

  ‘I had not meant to wake you, my dear, but we were growing anxious.’

  Lizzie turned her head and glanced at her small timepiece. Startled by the late hour, she struggled to sit up.

  ‘I am so sorry, Mrs Croft.’ She was dry mouthed and her head was spinning. ‘I should have been up and dressed hours ago.’

  ‘You will not be working today, Elizabeth,’ Mrs Croft said firmly. ‘Hester has told me a story that I could hardly credit, but whatever the truth, it is evident that you have been through a dreadful ordeal and you need to rest. By all accounts, you will be lucky to escape pneumonia. Hester said you were soaked to the skin when she found you.’

  ‘I was, but thanks to her I am sure I will suffer no lasting ill. You have both been very kind, but I must get up.’

  ‘Only if you are quite certain. Otherwise you must rest. Hester is bringing you chocolate and, once you have drunk it, you may rise and dress if you feel well enough. But no working, mind you.’

  ‘But...’

  ‘And no “buts”. I want you fit and well. I have had a message from Chelwood and Sir Justin has asked to visit to see how you fare. He will be here within the hour.’

  She paused, waiting, it seemed, for Lizzie to speak, but when her companion made no response, she continued, ‘Justin did not feature excessively in Hester’s account, yet he appears most anxious to talk with you.’ She looked hopefully at Lizzie, then gave a small sigh. ‘No doubt I shall eventually learn what has been happening beneath my nose. I have the feeling it is quite a story.’

  At that moment Hester came in with a cup of steaming chocolate and the two older ladies went quietly downstairs together. What decadence, Lizzie thought wryly, as she sipped at her cup. Now if I were mistress of Chelwood, this would be commonplace. But at that point her thoughts slammed to a halt. Justin had said he loved her and with that she must be content. He had said it at a moment of the greatest danger and it was well known that people in desperate situations were liable to say things that they later regretted.

  The terrible events of the night came back with crushing force; over the last few weeks she’d had sufficient adventure to last her a lifetime and imperceptibly she had begun to long for the settled existence she had always rejected. But not just any settled life. A married life—with a strong and loving man who could make her giddy with just one look from those beautiful, changeful eyes. If only...but it was no good daydreaming. Even if Justin truly loved her, he would never give up soldiering. From their very first meeting in the churchyard, he had made that clear. She swung her legs out of bed and her limbs felt tired and sore. Indeed, her whole being felt drained. If she was determined on that secure life, she thought unhappily, then her only course was to accept Piers Silchester. And that she could not do, for he was far too good a man to deceive in such a miserable fashion.

  No, she would remain a companion, perching on the edge of someone else’s world, never quite belonging, never quite at ease. Right now, though, she could not think of the future. She must concentrate on looking her best for Justin’s visit, for she knew that these were the final precious moments she would have with him. Mrs Croft had said that he was coming to see how she fared, but her employer did not know the whole truth. He was coming for much more, she was certain: he was coming to say goodbye. He would not want last night’s declaration of love to beguile her into thinking that there was a future for them. And after all, there was nothing now to keep him in Rye—Chelwood was once more flourishing and he knew at last the dreadful truth of his friend’s disappearance.

  She heard the murmur of voices below. He was here already! Hastily she splashed water on her face and dragged a comb through untidy ringlets. In the stark winter light her glass showed a pallid face with dark smudges beneath the eyes. She would wear her very best dress—a charming confection of deep-peach sarsnet and creamy lace—and hope its vibrant colour would compensate for her pallor. Scrambling through the contents of her chest drawer, she unearthed a ribbon of the same deep peach which she threaded through her curls. Another swift glance in the mirror and she was satisfied.

  * * *

  Justin rose as she walked through the door and his eyes rested on her trim figure just a moment too long.

  ‘How are you feeling, Miss Ingram?’

  ‘Ashamed that I have slept so long.’

  ‘You should not be. You look charmingly for it.’

  Mrs Croft’s face registered surprise at the compliment, but she said nothing, merely making space for Lizzie beside her on the brown velvet sofa.

  ‘I was telling Mrs Croft that I have this moment come from Five Oaks. I could not tell the Armitages everything they wanted—how Gil became caught up in Rosanna’s net must always remain guesswork—but I think I managed to piece together the final details of his story accurately enough. It was the telling that was so difficult.’

  Lizzie’s face clouded with sympathy. ‘I imagine your call on them must have been unbearable.’

  He nodded. ‘Gil’s death was always going to be a dreadful thing for them to accept, no matter how gently I sought to break the news. But it is done and at least they now have certainty. I have organised a work party from Five Oaks to retrieve his body at low tide and the Rector has agreed to a funeral date next week.’

  And that is when you will go, she told herself, but aloud she replied as cheerfully as she could, ‘You have been busy and all I have done is sleep.’

  ‘I would have slept, too, but I could not rest until I had spoken to James and Caroline.’

  There was a pained silence while each of them thought of the terrible death the young man had suffered. Then Justin said a little more brightly, ‘You will be glad to know that the preventives caught the gang halfway to the French coast. They believe they have captured them all. And there is sufficient evidence to hang Thomas Chapman for the excise man’s murder, if not for Gil’s.’

  ‘And Rosanna?’ Even now she could not keep the note of uncertainty from her voice.

  ‘She has turned King’s evidence in order to save her skin and has agreed to incriminate Chapman in return for a lighter sentence. So much for love!’

  The contempt in his voice made Lizzie’s stomach twist and turn. His opinion of women had never been high and with good reason, but she’d hoped that his harsh judgment had been tempered by knowing and loving her. Not so, it seemed. No doubt he was readying himself to take back last night’s declaration, as well as to say goodbye.

  Mrs Croft rose unsteadily to her feet. ‘I should not be glad to hear such a thing of a fellow human, but I have to confess that I am delighted that Chapman will hang. The more I think of it, the more convinced I am that he and his gang were responsible for poor, dear Susanna’s untimely death and I can feel no regret at his fate.’

  Justin had risen, too. ‘Nor should you. He will be given justice, no more and no less.’

  Then, turning to Lizzie, he offered his arm. ‘I wonder, Miss Ingram, if you would be good enough to walk with me a while.’

  Lizzie was about to demur when the old lady intervened. ‘After last night, you will want to talk together, I’m sure. Be careful to wrap up warmly.’

  Unwillingly Lizzie followed him into the hall. With all her might she wanted to push away the enc
ounter that was coming, pack it tightly in a box and mark it ‘not to be opened’, but she had no choice—better, then, to get it over with as swiftly as possible.

  Reaching up for her cloak, she brushed against a small posy of freesias that had been left lying on the rosewood console. ‘They are for Gil.’ Justin was beside her. ‘They were his favourite flowers and fortunately Chelwood’s succession house had sufficient blooms.’

  She put her nose to them and breathed in their sweet, fresh scent. ‘They are quite beautiful.’

  ‘Would you object if we were to walk to the cove? The flowers are by way of a wreath.’

  ‘No, I suppose not,’ she said, but there was a tremor in her voice.

  ‘It might be good to exorcise the demons,’ he said gently.

  The cove, the flowers...he was saying a last farewell to Gil. But a last goodbye to her, too. The cove had loomed large in the short drama of their love and would be a fitting backdrop to its final scene.

  He unlatched the kitchen door and she passed through into the garden, quiet and still in the late-November afternoon. Slowly she walked beside him down the path towards the wicket gate, unable quite to stifle a returning fear. A group of rooks rose noisily into the air at their approach and then swirled southwards making circles against the darkening sky.

  Their sudden flight startled her into speech. ‘How is your mother? Does she know all that has happened?’

  ‘I have told her some of it, but not all. I think it best that I do not feed the gossip machine too voraciously.’

  ‘Is she likely then to spread the story to her friends in London?’

  ‘Her “friends” are currently on her black list so I am hopeful that we will contain the terrible news here in Rye. But she was most definitely intrigued. She cannot quite believe that a small town can be every bit as exciting as London. I fear she is in for a disappointment if she stays too long.’

  ‘And is she staying?’

  ‘In the district, yes. At Chelwood, no.’