Harstairs House

by Amanda Grange

  She did not have long to wait to find out. The door opened, and Oliver walked in. His face had completely healed. The bruising and swelling had disappeared, and only a small scar over one eye remained to show that he had ever been hurt.

  He stopped abruptly when he caught sight of her, and she was just about to welcome him back when she saw his eyes narrow.

  "What are you doing in here?" he asked.

  "I wasn't expecting you back so soon. Mr. Owen thought you would not be back until tomorrow," she said, flustered.

  "I thought we had made an arrangement, that you were not to come into this part of the house?"

  His voice was mild, but there was an underlying note of tension that made her feel ill at ease.

  "I did not think it applied when you were not here," she returned. "I wanted to see if any of the books showed the extent of the grounds."

  The atmosphere lightened slightly.

  "And do they?" he asked.

  "No, they don't."

  "A pity," he remarked. There was a pause, and then he said, "If you have finished your search, my friends and I would like to use the library."

  "Of course."

  She felt awkward, and was anxious to be gone. Somehow he made her feel as though she had been caught in some wrongdoing, and she wondered why it was. Did he know about the secret passage? she wondered. Was that why he didn't want her in the library? As she pondered the question, a number of disjointed incidents connected themselves in her mind. She thought of the library as she had first seen it, with three half-filled wine glasses placed on the table and only one gentleman; the passage behind the bookcase; the storm lantern in the attic; Oliver's warnings about staying away from the beach; his choice of such an isolated location; the passage under the sundial; and her strange dreams of a light flashing on, off, on, off. Not a lighthouse at all, but a signal, seen in a half-waking state whilst she lay in bed with the curtains pulled back. Why had she not realized it before? Oliver and his friends were smugglers. She had thought she was coming to know him, but as she looked into the blue, glittering depths of his eyes, she realized she did not know him at all.

  "What is it?" he asked, taking a step towards her.

  "N… nothing," she said as her heart began to race. "Just that I am sorry to have troubled you."

  Then, trying hard not to run, she left the room. But once along the corridor she broke into flight, not stopping until she reached the kitchen and closed the door behind her.

  Constance's homely face looked up with a smile, and she felt some of her apprehension leave her, but a moment later it returned as Constance said, "I've just invited the gentlemen to eat with us this evening. It will do us good to have some company. They returned earlier than expected from their trip, and walked through here not five minutes since. I was planning to roast a joint of beef and I asked them if they'd like to join us. They were very pleased to have been invited. Their manservant will serve the meal, they said, so that we can all enjoy eating together. Won't it be nice?"

  Susannah was aghast. Oh, Constance! she thought. What have you done? The last thing she wanted to do was to sit down to dinner with a group of smugglers, but if Constance had invited them then she could not undo the arrangement without causing suspicion, and that was something she must not do. She felt herself caught in a tangled web and did not know which way to turn. Should she tell Constance they were living with smugglers? Would Constance believe her? And if she did, what should she do then? Leave the house? Her spirit rose against it. It was her house, and if she left she would forfeit her inheritance. Besides, if she left, would that not be admitting that she knew their secret? If once they realized it was out, how far would she be allowed to go before they found her and stopped her?

  Had she given herself away? she wondered. She had certainly slipped out of the library quickly, but could that not be attributed to the fact that she had wanted to fall in with Oliver's wishes?

  Perhaps the dinner party was fortuitous after all, she decided. If she could be relaxed and at ease, and a good hostess, it might reassure any fears Oliver might have, for if there was one thing she did not want him to do, it was to suspect that she knew the truth. It would be dangerous. The best thing to do was to act as though nothing untoward had happened. After all, Oliver did not know what she suspected. He knew nothing except that she had gone into the library in search of a plan of the house, and if she kept her wits about her, that was all he would ever know.

  Dinner would be an ordeal, Susannah thought as she changed her dress that evening. She would have to be at her best, and she had never felt less at her best in her life.

  She checked her appearance in the cheval glass by her bed and sighed. She had had nothing new to wear for years and her dress bore no resemblance to the stunning gowns in the fashion plates Mrs. Wise had sent her. It was a serviceable gown in an unbecoming shade of mustard, which had once been a jaunty shade of yellow. Its three-quarter length sleeves were ornamented with lace that had once been fine, but was now mended in a dozen places. It had a square-necked bodice which fitted closely down to her waist, then the skirt opened to reveal her cream petticoat beneath.

  She brushed her hair then began to arrange it, hoping an elaborate style would help to give her confidence. She piled it high on the back of her head, giving it fullness with three small pads, and allowing one thick swathe to fall free. She brushed the swathe, then arranged it to drape over her shoulder.

  Well, she had done what she could, she thought, as she surveyed the results of her handiwork. She pinched her cheeks to put some colour into them and then went downstairs. Constance was already in the dining-room, checking that the silver and crystal were properly arranged.

  "It was very kind of the gentlemen to lend us the services of Kelsey," said Constance, "but he is more used to looking after horses than setting a table, and the places were rather odd. He seemed to think we needed no more than one knife apiece, and when I reminded him about the napkins he looked startled. Do you know, I don't believe he had ever seen one before!"

  "Is there anything more to be done?" asked Susannah.

  "No, everything is ready. We are just waiting for the gentlemen to arrive."

  There was the sound of footsteps coming across the hall and on the stroke of six the gentlemen joined them.

  They exchanged greetings, and then took their places at the table. Constance had already placed the soup tureen in the centre of the table, as she did not trust Kelsey to serve it properly, and the gentlemen helped the ladies to a plate before helping themselves.

  "It is very good of you to invite us," said Edward, as he picked up his spoon. "It makes a change for us to have such charming company."

  "It is good for us, too," said Constance. "Miss Thorpe and I have been plagued by strange dreams lately, and we feared the solitude had been preying on our nerves. I dreamt the king and queen paid us a visit, and only a few nights ago Miss Thorpe dreamt that she saw a light flashing on and off out at sea."

  "Did she indeed?" asked Oliver.

  Susannah wished Constance had not picked on that subject, particularly when Oliver turned to look at her keenly. She avoided his eye and kept her attention fixed firmly on her soup.

  "Did you discover the cause of the flashing light?" he asked her.

  She raised her head and tried to speak lightly.

  "It was a lighthouse. But let us not talk of dreams," she said, changing the subject to the safest one she could think of. "It was rather colder today, I thought."

  "Oh, yes, there was a chill in the air," Constance agreed. "You have been here since June, I understand," she went on, turning to Edward. "How is the weather in the summer? Is it as wet as it has been recently?"

  "There was some rain, but we also had plenty of sun."

  "It must be lovely in the summertime," mused Constance. "It would be nice to be free of the draughts. When we first came here we were warned that Harstairs House was haunted, but I think it's the chill wind that has made peo
ple believe so. It can be very disconcerting to feel a breeze coming from nowhere."

  "I don't believe you've anything to fear," said Edward gallantly. "We've seen no sign of ghosts."

  "As soon as I saw the house, I thought there would be nothing to worry about," said Constance. "It's not old enough to have ghosts. The only thing we'll have to worry about, so close to the sea, will be smugglers!"

  Worse and worse, thought Susannah, as Edward shot a sharp glance at Constance. She tried to continue eating, but her throat was constricted and her heart was beating painfully in her chest.

  "Indeed?" said Edward.

  To Susannah's sensitized ears the question seemed loaded with danger.

  "Yes, indeed. Our village had frequent visits from smugglers when I was a girl. They came to supply the parson with brandy! Of course, he shouldn't have bought it, but he turned a blind eye to the parishioners' faults and they turned a blind eye to his."

  "Ah! You don't disapprove, then?" asked Edward.

  "I'm sure I don't know enough about it to approve or disapprove," said Constance. "I suppose we should all pay our taxes, but I can't see why the government should make quite so much money out of spirits when they do nothing to make them or bring them into the country."

  "An enlightened view," said Edward with a wry smile.

  "And you?" asked Oliver, turning to Susannah.

  She had remained quiet throughout the discussion, silently willing Constance to turn the conversation towards London, the house, the refurbishments they had in mind, the weather, the gentlemen's horses, in fact anything but smuggling. But now she had been asked a direct question she could not fail to reply.

  "I cannot approve," she said. "But as long as no one is hurt in the enterprise, then I see no reason to interfere."

  "I see."

  His long fingers closed round the stem of his wine glass. They were fine and tapering, but possessed of great strength for all that, and she thought they could be dangerous if he chose. Her reply had given nothing away, but if he suspected she knew, then she hoped her words would act as a warning to him.

  "Well said," agreed Edward.

  Constance, finally sensing that something was not quite right, looked from one to the other of them.

  "If we have all finished our soup, I think we should move on to the beef," said Susannah.

  There was a round of agreement. The soup plates were cleared and the sirloin of beef was brought in. Edward carved, and whilst he did so, Susannah took a firm hold on the conversation, asking the gentlemen about their experiences of London and the Grand Tour.

  As James regaled them with an account of his adventures in Italy, Susannah felt Oliver's eyes on her, but could not read his expression. Was it of a man at ease with the world, or was it the look of a predator cornered?

  "We will be going to London ourselves, soon," said Constance. "One of Miss Thorpe's friends has kindly invited us to stay with her."

  "Indeed?" asked James politely. "You will not be going too soon, I hope? We would be sorry to see you go."

  "We will not be going until I have spent a month in Harstairs House," said Susannah, "but once I've fulfilled the terms of Mr. Harstairs's will, then we will go straight away."

  "Ah." James seemed to relax. "Then we will be leaving before you, although I am beginning to wish we could stay. Our time here has been so much more pleasant with some female company."

  "You are too kind," said Susannah.

  "I think you are wise to go away for the winter," said Edward. "The storms can be fierce, and there is very little to do here when the nights are dark. It is different in London, of course."

  Susannah gave an inward sigh of relief as she was able to turn the conversation towards the joys of London, and they talked of the galleries and parks, the theatres and shops, until the candles burnt down low.

  "I think we should withdraw," said Susannah, as they finished their meal with a whipped syllabub.

  "No," said Edward, rising. "I think on this occasion it is we who should withdraw. Thank you for inviting us to dine with you. It has been a most enjoyable evening, but now we will bid you good night."

  The gentlemen rose. Oliver cast Susannah a searching glance before he followed Edward and James out of the room.

  Does he know what I suspect? she thought, as the door closed behind him. She could only hope that he didn't.

  "A delightful evening," said Constance. "Such charming gentlemen. I will be quite sorry when they go. There is no doubt about it, the house will be lonelier without them. It has been a comfort to know they are near at hand, for we are so very isolated here."

  "But we will have Jim with us, and his father," said Susannah bracingly. "Perhaps they might be persuaded to live here. They could sleep above the stables."

  "Oh, yes, that would be a comfort," said Constance. "I only hope that Mr. Sinders knows nothing against them, and that they prove to be satisfactory. It will make things so much easier if we have a few men about the house."

  The ladies retired soon after the gentlemen had left. As Susannah returned to her room, she thought the evening had passed off as well as could be expected, but the question remained, now that she suspected Oliver of smuggling, what was she going to do about it?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Susannah passed a restless night and woke feeling unrefreshed. She was no closer to deciding what she should do about the problem of Oliver and his friends than she had been the night before. She made a poor breakfast, forcing down a few morsels of cake and a cup of chocolate. It was by no means certain the gentlemen were smugglers, she reminded herself, for although she had her suspicions, she did not know if they were correct. She had convinced herself that she had seen someone signalling out to sea in the small hours of the morning because she had dreamt of a lighthouse, and she had assumed that Oliver's friends had disappeared into the secret passage in the library when she had first arrived at the house because their glasses had been on the table, but her dream could just have been a dream, and the gentlemen could have been searching the rest of the house in order to find the cause of the noise they heard. They might not even know the passage existed, let alone be guilty of using it for nefarious purposes. Her other suspicions were built on similarly shifting foundations. The only things she knew to be real, and not the product of an overactive imagination, were the passages.

  "It's a fine morning," said Constance, breaking into her thoughts. "The gentlemen have made the most of it and gone riding. I saw them in the yard, and they told me they mean to be out until lunchtime. I have been so busy that I have neglected my exercise of late, but I think I will take a walk this morning. Will you join me?"

  Susannah put down her cup of chocolate. Constance's words had given her an idea. If the gentlemen were out of the way, then she must explore the passages. The steps underneath the sundial had been slippery, and she thought it would be dangerous to go down them, for if she was not careful she could fall into the sea, which she had heard below. But the passage in the library had been clean and dry, and it would be easy to find out where it led.

  "No, I don't think so," she said. "I have some things I would like to attend to around the house."

  Once Constance had departed, however, she hesitated. Would it not be better to wait until she inherited the house, and then she could explore the passages with an army of footmen at her back? But by then, it might be too late. If Harstairs House was indeed being used for smuggling, then it was possible that she and Constance might be in danger, and she needed to know straight away.

  She thought over the meal the evening before. Could Oliver, Edward and James really be dangerous? On the surface it seemed unlikely They were all charming. But underneath? There was a streak of ruthlessness in Oliver, and possibly in the other men as well. Then there was Oliver's unexplained accident. What if it had not been an accident? What if it had been as a result of a fight with excise men?

  Deciding that she would have no peace unless she found out the truth, she
made up her mind to search the passages. Should she tell Constance what she intended? she wondered, then decided against it. She did not want to worry her friend, and besides, she would feel very foolish if the passage turned out to lead to nothing more than a large store cupboard! But in case she found herself in difficulties, she decided to leave Constance a note. If she should disappear, she she knew Constance would eventually look for her in her bedchamber.

  Going into the sitting-room, she sat down at the writing table. She took up a quill and composed a letter, sanding and folding it before taking it upstairs and leaving it on her bedside table with a direction for Constance to open it when it was dark. Picking up her fob watch she slipped it in her pocket so that she could make sure she did not stay too long in the passage, then she went into the library.

  It was warm. The fire was burning in the grate and, bathed in sunshine, the room looked peaceful. But appearances could be deceptive. Susannah took a candelabra from the mantelpiece and lit the three candles from the small flames, then turned the bust and watched the wall swing back. Cautiously she stepped inside.

  The passage was well used. There was no smell of damp or dust. It was some eight feet high and six feet wide and, with a floor of packed earth, it was easy to follow. As she went on she walked with more confidence. Her candle illuminated the small space, giving her plenty of light to see by, and she saw the corner of the passage ahead of her clearly. She turned it and before her she saw a set of stairs. They were not like those beneath the courtyard, made of stone and covered in slime. Instead they were clean and dry, and made of wood. She went down. Twenty… thirty… she counted the steps as she went. Every now and then she came to a small landing and paused for a rest before turning and going down again. Forty… fifty… She began to hear dripping water, and the air grew damp. Another landing, another turning, another twenty steps and she found herself at the bottom, standing on a rock ledge at the back of a cave. The candles danced as a draught caught them, and she sheltered them with her hand. Then she went forward.