Spyfall

by Carter, Elizabeth Ellen

  Nate winced when Peggy set down a teapot so heavily he was surprised it didn’t break.

  “It’s not Susannah. It’s The Queen’s Head,” she said. “Doyle refused her a liquor license at first and without it, we couldn’t have made this a going concern. So he offered her his surety.”

  “In exchange for what, exactly?”

  Bile burned its way up his throat. The thought of Susannah forced to consort with that man…

  For the first time since the Doyles’ arrival, the hint of the old Peggy returned with quirk of her lips.

  “Settle down, lover boy. The man’s here for his five percent cut of the takings – the price of the bond to make sure the Duchess is running a respectable establishment.”

  “And that’s what she’s told you?”

  For a while, Peggy didn’t answer. She set out the teacups and cut a couple of slices of hevva cake. Nate wondered if he was being comprehensively ignored.

  But when she had finished dressing the tea tray with neatly pressed napkins, she pinned him with a gimlet stare.

  “Know this, Mr. Pirate. There’s no other woman I know who has the decency of Susannah M…, the Duchess. Even during the worst of times, she was always an honorable woman. If she says that’s what the arrangement is, then that’s what the arrangement is.”

  He held his hands up to surrender and lowered his head momentarily in contrition.

  “Forgive me. The last thing I want is to offend you or impugn Mrs. Linwood.”

  A drawn-out sigh and a softening of Peggy’s features was a promising sign.

  “I know you don’t,” she admitted. “I can see you’re a decent man Nathaniel Payne. But don’t go thinking you’re some knight on a white horse. This is the first time in that girl’s life she’s been able to make some of her own choices, so let her make them.”

  Nate approached Peggy and lowered his voice. It wouldn’t surprise him if Lillian had an ear to the door.

  “I saw her face, Peg. Susannah was terrified. And as much as I’m loath to defend him, I know what kind of man Doyle is – a rutting reprobate – but he wouldn’t force himself on a woman.”

  Susannah’s companion fiddled with the hem of her apron.

  “So what kind of man was Linwood that would leave his widow so afraid even years after his death?”

  “His name wasn’t…” Peggy shut her mouth with a snap. The little enough she said was obviously too much.

  She simply picked up the tray and left the kitchen.

  The roiling emotion Nate thought he had under control threatened to bubble over. He pushed through the door into the mud room, snatched up his tools and went back outside, clean clothes or not.

  Pounding timber would have to suffice for physically pounding Martin Doyle and this mysterious husband of Susannah Linwood’s.

  Chapter Seven

  June 1805

  Today was a local holiday for the church fete to mark the end of spring. Held on the common opposite the little square Norman church, the fete attracted merchants from as far away as Wales and Dorset, selling spices, trinkets, laces, and iron goods.

  It was early. The sky had been a soft shade of peach, highlighting the mist which clung to the ankles of those setting up their stalls. As the sun rose, the pink gave way to a golden apricot-hue, heralding a clear fine day.

  The largest of the structures, on the far side of the common past the rows of stalls featuring games and amusements, was the beer tent erected by Simon Sitwell, proprietor of The Rose and Crown.

  For Susannah, as the owner of The Queen’s Head, the lucrative opportunity was something she had had equal claim to. However, during one of the planning committee meetings, she herself raised the motion that, to demonstrate a spirit of goodwill and cooperation as newcomers to St. Sennen, The Rose and Crown should be given the concession.

  Her offer endeared her to Reverend Johnston and his wife who had been wondering how to broach the delicate subject of competing commercial interests. Even Simon Sitwell himself had come over to The Queen’s Head to thank her.

  She smiled at the memory. This was what she wanted – a place that felt like home, to be welcomed in, to be part of a community where one’s individual differences mattered less than everyone cooperating together for the mutual good.

  It was what she had hoped to do when Jack moved her into the house outside of Lydd. But he had kept her isolated at home. Only the servants were to go to the village. If Susannah wanted to go anywhere, she would first have to consult her husband – more often than not, he refused.

  At first, she did not voice any dissent – after all, as a new bride, she took her vows of “honor and obey” seriously. And, after a while, isolation became habit – then a relief. How could she face another soul after bearing the brunt of that man’s violence?

  Only since his death and the discovery of his ledger had she realized there was another reason why Jack shunned company.

  Now, two years later, Susannah felt she could breathe again.

  “The pirate likes you.”

  Susannah smiled to herself as she pulled the jams and preserves out of a crate and placed them on the trestle table while Peggy pinned fabric bunting to the canvas awning on their stall.

  “Does he?” she responded innocently. She managed to catch a glimpse of Peggy out of the corner of her eye. The expression was priceless – slight exasperation mixed with the knowledge that she was being teased.

  Now that Peggy was secure in her own romance with Clem, she was turning a matchmaker’s gaze in her direction.

  Susannah picked up another crate and started unpacking it. Even with her back to the woman, she could still feel Peggy’s attention directed her way.

  “I like him, too,” she said softly so only Peggy would hear.

  And it was true. She did like Nate. How could she not?

  Despite the fact she had known him for only about a month, she felt as though she had known him a lifetime.

  Never once had he complained about helping with chores around the inn. Every morning, he went out and tirelessly labored. Moreover, his temper was even and his sense of humor was unforced when he bantered with Peggy and Clem.

  You could tell a lot about a man by the way he took teasing at his own expense.

  And as days went by, Susannah felt herself lose more of her reserve to him.

  Last week, they received the first eggs from the half-dozen chickens now living in the shed and run Nate had built for them. Now a portion of the paddock had been fenced off by him. In a few weeks’ time, they would plant apple trees and she would also try her hand at growing Kea plums which she had ordered from a farm in Falmouth.

  She thought how, before dawn this morning, as she and Peggy hitched Sid to the loaded trap, Nate had set off on the Sprite to take a cargo of salted eels down to Newlyn. He’d probably be there for at least a night, if not two.

  She would miss him when he eventually left for good. She tried not to think about it too much.

  “Do think you think it’s time to tell him about Moorcroft?”

  Susannah’s smile vanished. She fought off a shudder.

  “Why would you ask that? There’s no need for anyone to know.”

  Yes, she thought about Jack Moorcroft often. But she was careful to keep those thoughts to herself. Not since that first day they moved into The Queen’s Head had Peggy spoke his name. Susannah set down the jar in her hand and waited to catch Peggy’s eye. She did. The woman looked down from her step stool.

  “You haven’t told Clem about my past have you?”

  Peggy looked appalled. “No! I wouldn’t do that without your say so.”

  Susannah nodded, accepting it as the truth.

  “My past is behind me; behind the both of us. There is no reason on earth why anyone other than we two ought to know any of it.”

  “Hey ho!”

  Never before had Clem’s call of greeting been so welcome. Susannah smiled as he approached.

  “A smile from t
wo of the prettiest women in St. Sennen can only make this day brighter!” said the ironmonger.

  Peggy climbed down from her step stool, accepting Clem’s hand as she did so. “You silver-tongued devil! It’s going to get you into trouble one of these days.”

  “You’ll just have to stick by my side, old girl, and make sure I stay out of strife then.”

  Peggy turned a becoming shade of pink.

  It was really quite sweet. And since Peggy seemed keen on playing matchmaker, then perhaps Susannah should return the favor.

  “Why don’t you two explore the markets this morning? I can manage here on my own for a few hours.”

  The look of delight on Clem’s face was worth making the offer. Peggy’s frown added to her amusement.

  “How are you going to do that while also keeping an eye on thieving little tinkers?”

  “I shall manage. Besides, I suspect most of our sales will be at noon when the beer tent becomes too crowded,” said Susannah. “If it makes you feel better, consider it a mission. I hear Mrs. Doyle’s cook is excellent and expects to win a medal in the baking competition. I want to make sure we at least take home a ribbon.

  “So shoo! Off you go,” she added, waving her hands. “Enjoy the fete for a couple of hours.”

  She watched the pair walk off hand-in-hand and her heart lightened. She was certain that in the not too distant future there would be an offer of marriage. And, if that was the case, she wanted Peggy to be free to follow her heart and not refuse it out of some obligation to her.

  The best way she could do that was to demonstrate she was capable of managing on her own.

  By the time the sun itself peeked over the hills, the reedy drone of a hurdy-gurdy could be heard sounding over the common, calling people down to the fete.

  The morning passed quickly. And profitably. Susannah was down to her last dozen jars of lemon curd. The pickled asparagus was selling very well.

  After a while, she got to know the types of visitors – the idle browsers, the locals who simply wanted a chat, the fellow stallholders who would casually buy a bottle or two to evaluate the quality of the competition, as well as the genuine enthusiastic purchasers.

  One of those early idle browsers returned and browsed through the goods again. The stranger was as tall as Nate and about the same age from what she could see of his face beneath the tricorn hat. But the thing that stood out was the crossed anchors tattoo on his web of his hand between the thumb and forefinger.

  A sailor, without question. But the nearest naval port had to be fifty miles from St. Sennen. Was he a local man who had returned home? Without knowing why she should suspect so, Susannah believed there was more to the man’s business than merely enjoying the day.

  The aroma of roasting meat filled the air as preparations for the noon meal approached.

  Peggy and Clem would be back again soon and she wouldn’t mind taking a walk around to stretch her legs after several hours on her feet.

  Then the mystery man returned a second time and picked up a bottle of rosehip cordial, examining its deep pink color.

  A ghost of fear whispered in her ear.

  Who is he? An associate of Jack’s? Of Robert Lawnton?

  Run!

  She swallowed, forcing the panic back down. Truly, it was ridiculous to let her imagination run away from her. Who could possibly harm her here in the middle of St. Sennen? One scream would have neighbors running to her aid.

  She should talk to him.

  “If you’re thinking of taking the rosehip cordial, I suggest you don’t wait. The ones you see here on the table are the last I have left.”

  The man set down the bottle and looked at her directly for the first time.

  “You’re wondering why I’ve been lurking around your stall, aren’t you?” The man sounded a little sheepish, as though embarrassed to have been caught.

  She inclined her head in acknowledgement.

  “How about I take four of each of your remaining stock?” he said.

  “I won’t refuse a sale, but I would put it to you that you’re not a man who usually buys preserves.”

  The man grinned. “I’m truly that obvious?”

  “I’m afraid you are,” Susannah answered, trying to sound casual as she retrieved a crate in which to place his purchase.

  “Usually my wife does all the buying of this sort.”

  “And she’s not with you today?” Susannah knew full well that she was not. Whenever she had seen him, he was alone.

  “No, she’s at home in Truro.”

  “I see.”

  There was just enough censure in those two words to catch the man’s attention and to broaden his grin.

  “I’m in St. Sennen on business for a few days. Trading; international exports, that kind of thing. I’m looking for someone I thought might be here today. Nathaniel Payne? He’s given The Queen’s Head inn as his address and whenever I’ve asked about him, it’s led me back to you.”

  Susannah shucked off her wariness. This man was not an agent of her late husband’s after all.

  “Mr. Payne has been staying with us, but I’m afraid he won’t be back for a couple of days,” she said. “If you’re looking for a place to stay then you can’t do better than The Queen’s Head.”

  “You’ve sold me, Miss—?”

  “Mrs… Mrs. Linwood, and I didn’t catch your name. Mr.…”

  The man gave an informal bow.

  “The name’s Hardacre. Adam Hardacre.”

  *

  The trading run down the coast was as smooth and fine as this late spring day. As a result, Nate completed unloading the cargo of salted silver eels well before lunch. And if the winds favored him this afternoon, he could be back at St. Sennen just on nightfall.

  The lingering twilight made navigation easier than sailing at night.

  Everything seemed to go his way today. He took it as a good omen.

  His pockets were full and his hold was clear. Exactly as it should be.

  And, yet, he wasn’t returning home empty-handed. Inside the cabin was a lady’s fan for Susannah. It was a purchase made on impulse as he’d waited for the warehousemen to unload the cargo and wandered around the harbor markets.

  It wasn’t expensive, but the folding fabric was prettily painted with multicolored roses and the nicely crafted pierced-work on the sticks made it stand out from the ordinary.

  Nate imagined Susannah dressed in her finest gown, her light brown hair swept up and set with ribbons in the shade of deep pink. When in all the time he’d known her had she enjoyed herself without a care in the world, knowing she didn’t have to prepare for the next day’s trade or cajole a drunkard out of having one more pint?

  Nate wasn’t a wealthy man by any means, but he’d give a lot to see Susannah as the grand lady he suspected she was. Even after spending every day for almost a month in her company, he was still no closer to knowing any more about her past, from her at least.

  Did she not trust him? Or was the truth of the matter that she trusted no one but Peggy? What was it about her past marriage? Apart from a wedding band, she wore no rings and there were no remembrances to the departed Mr. Linwood that he had seen at The Queen’s Head. But then, he’d never been invited into Susannah’s private quarters either.

  He set those thoughts aside and put his full attention to sailing. All that really mattered was making good time back to St. Sennen so he could enjoy at least one dance with the proprietress of The Queen’s Head before the night was over.

  He yawned and scratched at the day’s whiskers. If Susannah was Cinderella, did that make him a prince? Good Lord, he hoped not. His tolerance for mannered fools was limited at the best of times. It would be just like him to insult a sodding earl.

  The sound of the band could be heard in the Pengellan estuary.

  Nate furled the sails and dropped anchor. He wouldn’t risk docking the Sprite at St. Sennen in the dark and without assistance. He would row the rest of the way in and
tie up the rowboat at the jetty.

  Any vestiges of exhaustion fled with the sound of music, laughter and merriment in the center of the fete. After sating his hunger at one of the food tents, he went in search of Susannah.

  The stall had been taken down and, presumably, packed into the cart. Hopefully, Susannah was enjoying herself among the dancers and had not made some excuse to leave early. As he got closer to the tent with the dancers, a couple hand-in-hand passed him grinning, the girl fanning her face with a folded piece of paper.

  Nate thought of his gift which he’d left on the boat to give Susannah on the morrow. Was he being forward? Perhaps that had been a mistake. He circled around back to the big tent scanning the heart of it where dozens of dancers enjoyed a lively country dance.

  “Hey ho! You’re back!”

  Nate felt a thump on his back. He turned and was greeted by Clem.

  “We didn’t expect to see you back before tomorrow! Come and join Sam and me here.”

  Clem indicated a bench. Four men on it duly slid along to accommodate one more. Nate hesitated a moment. If he sat, he couldn’t see the dance floor properly and he suspected that was where he’d find Susannah.

  “Why aren’t you out there with Peggy?” Nate asked, nodding to the knot of dancers.

  Clem rubbed the back of his head and looked sheepish.

  “It’s like this. After the third time I stepped on her foot, she called me a lumberin’ oaf and threatened to cut off certain unmentionables. And since I’m fond of my certain unmentionables, and I like the fact that Peg’s been thinkin’ of my certain unmentionables, then the least I can do is sit out the dancin’.”

  Clem and Peggy. Nate laughed until his eyes nearly watered. He couldn’t think of two people so well suited.

  “And Susannah?”

  Nate hoped the question didn’t come across as too obvious. Clem’s expression told him he hadn’t been successful.

  “She’s still here – and dancing every so often… including with the new lodger.”

  “What new lodger?”

  “Someone who introduced himself to Susannah today.”

  Hell, he was not going to be a jealous man, Nate told himself, even as he rose to his feet to view the crowd.