“I was just saying to Eustacie that I thought I’d glimpsed you earlier,” went on Mrs. Kerrith. She glowered at Cassandra as she drew level with the table, then turned smilingly to Lord Deverill. “I hope you had better luck with the horses than we did. I do declare, we have had the most dreadful luck. Eustacie’s horse refused to run, and mine fell at the first bend.
“Mrs. Kerrith, Miss Kerrith,” said Justin, rising and greeting them politely, though to Cassandra it seemed he did so through gritted teeth.
“We were just saying how much we would like some lemonade,” said Mrs. Kerrith pointedly. “It is so hot today. Poor Eustacie is quite overcome. But then she is such a delicate flower.”
Miss Kerrith looked towards Justin with a wilting air.
His face set in a polite smile. “Then you must allow me to procure it for you. Miss Paxton was just leaving.”
Miss Kerrith and her mother gave a satisfied smirk. Cassandra was bitterly disappointed—until Justin handed her her parasol and guided her towards the exit, giving them a few moments alone together.
“I am not leaving the tent until I know what you mean,” said Cassandra.
“We can’t talk here,” he said. “I’m giving a picnic tomorrow, at a scenic spot on the beach. Will you join me? Your friend and her husband are welcome, of course. I will explain everything then.”
“I need to know now,” said Cassandra.
“Lord Deverill!” called Mrs. Kerrith.
He cursed under his breath. “It’s impossible,” he said, looking into her eyes. “But I will tell you everything tomorrow. You have my word. I will direct the carriages past your house at eleven o’clock. Be ready to join us.”
“Very well,” said Cassandra. “We will be there.” She hesitated, and then asked, “Am I in danger?”
He took her hand reassuringly.
“Don’t worry. There will be people watching you at all times, and no harm will come to you.”
She looked into his eyes. “But I am in danger?” she pressed.
He stroked his long, strong fingers across her palm, and she swallowed.
“It’s possible,” he said.
“Oh, Lord Deverill!” carolled Mrs. Kerrith.
“I must go,” he said.
Cassandra nodded.
Then, leaving her, he went back to the Kerriths.
Cassandra walked slowly back to Maria and Harry.
“You found it? Oh, good,” said Maria. “The sun is very strong, and it wouldn’t do to get freckles. Was Lord Deverill still there?”
Cassandra nodded. “Yes, he was. He has asked us to join him for a picnic tomorrow,” she said.
“Oh, good. All the best people go to his picnics. Lord Armington is bound to be there. Now, where were the ribbons you wanted to look at?” asked Maria.
Cassandra roused herself from her thoughts then led the way to a stall displaying fans, stockings, gloves and ribbons. She showed two of the ribbons to Maria.
“Which do you think will go best with my new bonnet, the dark pink or the rose?” she asked.
“The dark pink,” said Maria consideringly. “The rose is too insipid.”
As Cassandra paid for the ribbon, she found her thoughts straying. Why was she in danger? From whom? And what did Justin have to do with it?
The thoughts haunted her as she returned to the carriage with Maria and Harry. All around, people were enjoying themselves, but for her the world had taken on a darker hue. The hurdy gurdy now sounded tinny and the young ladies who flirted with officers seemed immoral. The pleasure had gone out of her day.
She climbed into the carriage behind Maria, then Harry followed her. The step was folded up and the carriage rolled away.
They left Whitehawk Down behind and bowled down into town.
“I believe I could acquire a taste for the races,” said Maria.
“My dear wife, you would ruin us within a month,” said Harry.
“Perhaps you are right. I will not bet the next time we go, but will content myself with watching instead.”
Listening to their banter, Cassandra wished she could join in, but she could think of nothing but what she would learn on the following day.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cassandra’s thoughts were perturbed as she dressed for the picnic the following morning.
“A picnic?” snorted Moll. “Just you make sure you sit on a blanket, Miss Cassie. I don’t hold with this sitting on the grass—it’ll be damp, I shouldn’t wonder—”
“You needn’t worry about that. The picnic is to take place on the beach,” Cassandra said.
“Nasty wet places, beaches,” said Moll. “You’ll catch your death of cold for sure. All this eating out of doors. Why can’t people eat inside like sensible bodies? You make sure you wear your shawl, and keep your gloves on. And mind you don’t get your feet wet. You’ll get your death from wet feet.”
“I’ll keep them dry,” Cassandra promised her.
“And make sure Miss Maria doesn’t neither. She was looking tired yesterday. I hope Mr. Harry’s taking care of her.”
“He is,” said Cassandra.
Having grumbled herself out, Moll disappeared to find Cassandra a handkerchief, for if her mistress departed without one then the heavens would surely fall. Cassandra wandered over to the window. As she did so, she saw a footman loitering in the street. The sight would not have interested her the day before but now, knowing that Justin had set a watch on her, she wondered if he was really a footman or if he was a guard in disguise. She felt a chill, and pulled her shawl more tightly about her.
“Don’t say as I didn’t warn you,” said Moll gloomily, as she reentered the room. “You’ve taken cold. I knew how it would be. Swimming in your chemise, walking along the Downs, mixing with all the rabble at the races…”
Cassandra took the handkerchief Moll held out to her and thanked her for it, just as Maria’s carriage rolled up. No sooner had it done so than a smart party of carriages arrived behind it. Cassandra put on her bonnet, picked up her parasol and then went outside. She took her place with Maria and Harry, and the group was soon on its way.
It was very different to the group of people who had attended Maria’s soirée. They had been comfortable people with incomes large enough to provide them with all the usual luxuries of life, but these people were the most fashionable members of society. Their carriages were the smartest money could buy, a number of them being emblazoned with coats of arms. The ladies were dressed in silk and satin and though their gowns were simple in style, with high waists and long, narrow skirts, they were adorned with the most exquisite lace. Silk parasols with long tassels, bonnets decorated with ribbons and feathers, and gloves dyed in every shade completed their outfits, making Cassandra and even Maria feel positively dowdy.
“I’ve never seen so many jewels,” said Maria to Cassandra in a hushed tone.
“No need to whisper. They can’t hear you,” said Harry jovially, but even he was impressed with their company.
“What a thing! To be invited to one of Lord Deverill’s picnics!” exclaimed Maria. “The weather is perfect. Just look at that sky.”
It was an azure blue, with a few fluffy white clouds to break the monotony. From out of it shone a hot sun, made bearable by a cooling breeze.
As they continued on their way. Cassandra’s eyes were drawn to the front of the pro cession, where Justin was riding alongside a carriage full of young ladies.
“The Pargeter girls,” said Maria, seeing the direction of her gaze. “There are five of them, all heiresses, and all very handsome. I wonder if Mr. Kingsley will be here today?” she asked, changing the subject. “He seemed very taken with you.”
“I have no desire to marry him, even if he asks me,” said Cassandra.
“No, Lord Armington would be the better match,” said Maria comfortably.
“My dear wife, I despair of you,” said Harry.
They followed the coast for some distance until they reached a she
ltered stretch of beach some miles out of town. There were no bathers and no fishermen. They had it entirely to themselves. The sea swooshed as it rushed in, and then retreated with a hissing sound, whilst the gulls cried above.
The servants were soon setting up trestle tables and spreading out rugs and cushions. Cassandra, Maria and Harry walked down to the sea, breathing in the fresh, salty air. The two ladies twirled their parasols to keep the sun off their faces, and Harry picked up a pebble to skim. He threw it across the water and watched it bounce twice before sinking beneath the waves.
“I can do better than that,” he said.
He picked up another pebble then discarded it, at last choosing a smooth, flat stone. He rubbed his thumb over it, feeling its shape, then turned sideways to the waves and skimmed it across the sea. One, two, three, four times it bounced before disappearing from view.
“Much better,” said Harry.
He bent down for another stone.
Cassandra let her gaze wander over the other guests. There were some thirty people in the party altogether. Some strolled by the water’s edge, some sat and gossiped on the rugs, and some were with their children, who were playing at one side of the beach, watched over by nurses and governesses.
It was a peaceful scene, thought Cassandra. The sea was calm, and the ladies looked beautiful as they twirled their parasols to keep the sun off their faces. The gentlemen amused them with light-hearted conversation, and there was an air of bonhomie. The guests were in a mood to please and be pleased. The weather and setting had affected everyone’s spirits, and conversation seemed to be flowing easily. If not for the shadow hanging over her, she would have thought the day was perfect.
She glanced towards Justin, but he was busy playing host and she guessed that it would not be until after they had eaten that she would have an opportunity to talk to him. Until then she could not be easy. She was glad that Maria was in a mood to be garrulous, for she could not concentrate well enough to engage in conversation.
“Just wait until I tell Aunt Julia about this!” said Maria. “She will be unbearable. She will brag about it to all her friends. It’s so dull for her, living in the remoter reaches of the country, especially now that her hip is troubling her and she cannot get out as much as she used to. But this will enliven her. She has been wanting to find a way of paying Mrs. Jamieson out, ever since Mrs. Jamieson bragged that her niece once entertained a baronet to tea, and this news will be as good as a present for her.”
Cassandra let Maria’s words wash over her. Harry grew bored of skimming stones and they strolled along the beach before returning to the rest of the group.
To Cassandra’s relief, Lord Armington was not one of the party. She did not feel equal to conversing with him, or to fending off Maria’s knowing looks.
The footmen had been busy in their absence, covering the tables with white cloths and placing sparkling glasses and abundant silverware on them ready for use. The food was being laid out. Potted mushrooms, artichoke pies and venison pasties were set alongside roasted hams, juicy pheasants and plump capons. There were dishes of buttered crab, dressed lobster and potted shrimps, and potato pudding decorated with puffed pastry. Large pyramids of fruit were arranged as centrepieces and beside them was an array of desserts, with syllabubs, tarts, macaroons and jellies. But Cassandra had no appetite, and Maria’s exclamations passed her by.
“This was a splendid notion of Deverill’s,” said Harry, as they took their places on a large rug. It had been spread out over the beach and then softened with dozens of cushions.
Cassandra agreed.
“There’s nothing like eating out of doors,” said Maria.
They were joined on the rug by a number of other people, none of whom Cassandra knew. She pulled her thoughts away from Justin and joined in with the conversation.
“May I fetch you something?” asked a gallant young man by the name of Percy Spencer.
“Thank you. I think I’ll have a little of the artichoke pie.”
“And some capon?” he asked her. “They look very good.”
Cassandra thanked him again, and before long found herself with a plate of food on her lap and a glass of champagne in her hand.
“Delicious,” said Maria, eating daintily by her side.
Cassandra agreed, but in reality she had little appetite. She could not help her eyes straying to Justin. He was moving amongst his guests, making sure that everyone was comfortable and having an enjoyable time. He glanced at her only once, but then his attention was reclaimed by a dashing dowager.
As soon as she had finished eating, Cassandra declared her intention of taking a walk along the beach. Maria and Harry were feeling too lazy to walk, and Percy had struck up a conversation with another young gentleman, so Cassandra went down to the water’s edge by herself. She began to walk beside the sea. The sound of it was soothing. The waves played beside her, forcing her to step away when they came too high, and tempting her to go closer when they ran away, leaving seaweed and small stones in their wake. Ahead of her, a gull waddled across the beach, ducking its head every now and then to peck at something that attracted its attention.
As she went on, the noise of chatter and laughter died away behind her. She did not know how far she had gone until she looked back and found that she had walked round the headland. The picnickers were no longer in sight. She was reluctant to go back, but at the same time she knew she must. She was in danger, Justin had said, and she should not be alone.
She had just taken the first step back when a figure came into view. It was Justin. He continued to walk towards her and then stopped just in front of her.
“At last,” he said.
His words were so heartfelt that she knew he had been frustrated by their lack of opportunity to speak as much as she had. He offered her his arm but she declined. She was not sure of herself when she was touching him. Something about him sent her thoughts spiralling down new and uncertain channels, and she did not want the disturbing sensations to distract her.
They began to walk along the coast together.
“I have been trying to talk to you all day, but every time I thought I’d extricated myself, someone else claimed my attention,” he said.
“Yes. I saw.”
“But now we are alone, and at last we can talk.”
“Yes. We can.”
She stopped. He said nothing. Then she began. “You said yesterday that I was in danger,” she said.
“Yes,” he said. “I think you are. Or perhaps it’s better to say that I think you might be in danger.”
“But I don’t understand. Why should I be in danger?” she asked. “Who could possibly want to hurt me?”
He stopped and looked out to sea. “There are some things it is better not to know,” he said. “It is better simply to know that you are in danger, and take precautions because of it.”
“You’re being very mysterious,” she said, stopping beside him.
He turned to face her. “I have my reasons.”
“Which are?”
“That I would like to protect you, if I can.”
She nodded. “You promised Rupert you’d do so.” She paused. “When I overheard you talking to Mr. Standish, you said you didn’t want to tell me about my danger because you didn’t want to destroy my peace of mind.”
“That’s true. I don’t.”
“But it has already been destroyed.” She met his gaze. “If someone is trying to harm me, then I need to know who it is, and why. It sounds absurd,” she went on, looking about her at the peaceful scene. “I cannot understand why anyone would want to do such a thing. I have no enemies. And yet I’ve had two…accidents, for want of a better word…and you must have some reason for believing them to be more than that.”
“Yes, I have.”
She searched his face.
“What ever it is, I need to know,” she said.
“Very well.”
“Does it have something to do with my bro
ther?” she asked.
“Why do you ask that?”
“Because he said he had done something terrible. I can find no trace of it, but I think you have been protecting me.” She saw by his face that what she had said was true. “If he had done something terrible, then it might explain why I am being attacked. Does it? Does it have something to do with Rupert?
He spoke reluctantly. “I believe so.”
“But why? Is it revenge? Did he harm someone, and are they now trying to harm me, as he has passed beyond their reach?”
“No. It is more complicated than that.”
He looked down at his boots. He did not want to say more, she could tell, but she had to know.
“I don’t know for sure, but I believe someone is trying to kill you because they think you know something that can harm them,” he said at last. “I think they suspect that Rupert told you something that would put them in danger.”
“What do you mean? What kind of thing? Was there foul play in a race, or something of that kind? Was someone spotted cheating at cards? Did they perhaps win a fortune, and fear that Rupert saw them cheating? Is that, in fact, why Rupert died?” she asked, as the thought hit her. “Did they kill him so that he could not tell anyone what he had seen?”
The thought seemed terrible. And yet, as she saw his swift glance out to sea, she realized the truth was worse. It did not have to do with racing and gambling: it had to do with something far more serious. She felt suddenly afraid. She followed his gaze and looked outwards, over the ocean. On the other side was France, a country that had recently torn itself apart with revolution, and which was now waging war with its neighbours.
“Does it have something to do with the war?” she asked in a whisper.
“Yes, it does. Stop here, Cassandra. I would rather not tell you anything further.”
“I can’t stop. I have to know.”
He searched her eyes, then nodded. “Very well.”
He took something out of his pocket. He glanced at it and then handed it to her. She took it and looked at it. It was a print. In the centre of the picture was the English Channel, with France to the left of the picture and England to the right. Over the Channel flew a number of balloons, across it surged a fleet of rowing boats, and under it was a tunnel, with troops moving through it.
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