They fell silent.
At last, Susannah said, "Do you think I'll have any more calls from the Trevennans?"
"You might do. It's as well to be on your guard."
"Shall I tell them that we are engaged, if they wait on me?" she asked.
He thought. "I think not, unless they ask you directly. That will keep the captain guessing. He's not yet sure I'm the man he wants. With any luck, by the time he is sure, we'll be gone."
Susannah's spirits dropped. The sky was as blue as ever, and the sun as warm, but the pleasure had gone out of her day.
"Where will you go when you leave Harstairs House?" she asked.
She tried to make her voice sound unconcerned, but it came out on a drooping note.
He rested on the oars and looked at her, his expression softening.
"Somewhere else along the coast. Far enough away from here to be unknown. Then we can carry on with our work."
"And what will happen to the people you save? Where will they go?"
"To safe houses. Some people have relatives or friends in the country, in which case we take them there. Others are not so fortunate, and they are taken in by those who sympathize with their plight."
She shivered.
"It's such a short distance across the Channel, and yet there is more than water separating us. Our lives here go on as before; theirs are in turmoil."
And whilst they were, Oliver would go on putting himself in danger, she thought.
"How much longer will it last?" she asked.
"I don't know. I had hoped it would be over by now. When the king was murdered I thought it couldn't get any worse, but I was wrong. It was only just beginning." He rested on the oars and looked out to sea. The waves gently rocked the boat, and their regular lapping was the only sound.
"There must come an end sometime," said Susannah. "It cannot go on for ever."
"Eventually, it will burn itself out," he agreed. "Until then, I must do what I can to help those trapped in its clutches. But this is a sad topic for such a beautiful day," he went on, picking up the oars again. "Let us be thankful we live on this side of the Channel, and that we can enjoy it."
Susannah responded to his smile and felt her feelings grow. As the boat sculled over the waves, she delighted in the feel of the sun on her face and the sound of the gulls above her. It was difficult to believe that there was anything but beauty in the world. As a breeze rose, and blew exhilaratingly in her face, she raised her hand to her hat to keep it from blowing away, but it was too late. A sudden gust of wind whipped it away and blew it over the sea. It skipped along the waves before settling some little distance away.
"Oh, no!" she cried.
He laughed, and she shared his laughter. He turned the boat and rowed with strong, powerful strokes towards it. Then, shipping the oars, he lifted it out of the water before it became waterlogged and sank.
"Thank you!" she said, as he returned it to her.
His hand touched hers, and she looked into his eyes. Here was a man who risked his life saving innocents from the revolution, and yet he could still laugh and take a delight in life. As her heart turned over inside her, she knew it was not just admiration or respect she felt for him, it was love.
"We should be going back," he said.
She nodded. It would do her no good to encourage her feelings. He was to leave Harstairs House soon, and he had never spoken of having any feelings for her. He was a man of action, not a man who would settle down and take a wife. She should feel betrayed that he had kissed her without intending to ask for her hand, or humiliated, or spurned, but she felt none of those things. Instead she felt only thankfulness that he had come into her life.
He turned the boat and rowed them back to the shore. Shipping the oars, he sprang out on to the jetty, taking the rope with him. He tied the boat fast then offered her his hand and helped her out. They stood for a moment looking at each other, then he turned towards the path and she fell into step beside him. They did not talk on the way back, but once they reached the house, he said to her, "Susannah?"
"Yes?" she asked, turning to face him.
"When I told Captain Johnson we were betrothed…"
"Yes?" she asked breathlessly.
"I would like it very much if-"
"You're back."
Edward's harsh voice broke in on them and the moment shattered like glass.
Oliver exhaled sharply.
"Yes," he said. "I am."
"Good. I need to speak to you. When you're ready," he added, with a touch of sarcasm in his voice.
"Very well."
Oliver made her a bow and left her.
Susannah, glancing after him, saw Edward's uncompromising face.
He doesn't trust me, she thought. He thinks I have betrayed them.
"Well?" asked Oliver, as he followed Edward into the library.
Edward sat down and rested his elbows on the table. "I think we should put our next trip to France forward by a few days."
Oliver swept up the tails of his coat and sat down opposite him. "Because?" he demanded.
"Because the sooner we finish our work here and leave, the better," said Edward impatiently.
Oliver shook his head. "Our plans are already made. We can't change everything now. Tregornan knows when to have the ship ready for us. It's all arranged."
"It will be safer," said Edward. "News of our plans might have leaked out."
"No," said Oliver.
"You seem to think it's your decision alone." Edward's mouth was a tight line in his face.
"It is. I'm grateful for everything you and James have done, but this has been my affair from the beginning. I've organized the trips, I've paid for ships, I've found our bases — everything has been of my doing. If you don't like that, then I'm sorry, but it's not about to change now." His expression relented. "Don't worry. This is our last trip from this house. It will be all right. We have to risk it."
"Very well." Edward stood up. "But I warn you, Oliver, if you behave as obtusely in the future as you've done over the last few weeks, you and I will part company."
"If that's the way it has to be," said Oliver.
"As long as we know where we both stand."
Oliver nodded curtly, and Edward left the room.
A few weeks before, Oliver thought, he would have agreed with Edward: speaking to anyone outside their small group about their missions was dangerous, and could compromise their security. But now everything had changed. He smiled as he thought of it. He didn't regret telling Susannah about what he was doing. He loved her. He trusted her. In the hall, he had almost asked her to be his wife, and the thought of marrying her filled him with joy. Not long ago, he had decided he must give her up, but now he knew he couldn't do it.
Going over to the window, he looked out over the ocean. Until recently, rescuing the helpless from the clutches of the revolution had been the most important thing in his life, but it paled beside his love for Susannah. But he couldn't risk leaving her a widow, that much had not changed, and so his dangerous exploits must come to an end. He had one final mission to complete, but when it was over he knew that his future lay with Susannah, and that he would go to France no more.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"A letter has arrived," said Constance, as Susannah went into the kitchen a week later. Constance wiped her hands on her apron and then took the letter down from the mantelpiece. "Jim brought it this morning. I meant to give it to you before now, but I forgot."
Susannah took the proffered letter and opened it.
"It's from Mr. Sinders," she said, pulling a chair up to the fire. "He has made enquiries about Jim's family and found them to be satisfactory. He had already met Jim before entrusting the lad with the task of bringing the milk, and although he considered him impertinent, he also considered him eager and trustworthy. He knows nothing against any of the family, except that one of the brothers drinks, but as I am not thinking of employing him it does not signify."
"Then we will be appointing Jim's sisters?"
"We will."
"Good," said Constance in relief. "The wash house is almost full to overflowing."
Susannah returned the letter to the mantelpiece and went into the wash house to have a look for herself. There were sheets, towels and patchwork quilts to be mended. There were rugs and curtains to be beaten. The whole room was a jumble of colourful confusion.
"I will hire them as soon as I am sure of my inheritance," said Susannah. "I only hope we get a spell of dry weather. It will be impossible to dry anything if this rain lasts."
"It won't, or at least so Jim tells me," said Constance. "He's consulted the seaweed or some such thing. He's promised to show me how to do it, so that I can foretell the weather on washing days."
"If it works, it will be a miracle!" laughed Susannah.
"Anything that helps me avoid a hedgeful of wet washing in a downpour is worth trying," said Constance.
Susannah agreed. She had spent many wash days with Aunt Caroline, running in and out of the house with armfuls of washing, bringing it in even wetter than when she had put it out.
"We haven't seen much of the gentlemen recently," said Constance, as she stoked the fire. "I usually see them going to or from the stables, or perhaps bump into them in the hall, but they seem to be keeping themselves to themselves."
"I dare say they are busy," said Susannah.
In fact, the gentlemen had gone to France. She had seen Oliver only once since their afternoon's boating, and learnt of his last mission. He had been facing terrible dangers for days whilst she had gone quietly about her keeping house. But it would do no good to dwell on it. They meant to return on the evening tide, and she must occupy her mind until they were safely within the walls of Harstairs House once more.
She was grateful for one thing. Buvoir had recovered sufficiently to be moved, and was no longer in the house. He was on his way to London, assisted by those who opposed the revolution, and from there he would go to a friend's house, where he would begin a new life.
"I think I will look over the kitchen garden," she said. "Once I employ Jim's father, I will need to tell him what I want to do with it. We must grow vegetables and herbs, but I would like to try and grow a few flowers, too."
"Oh, yes, that would be lovely," said Constance. "There is nothing like the scent of flowers in the summer, and some bright colours to gladden the eye."
Susannah went outside, but she found it difficult to concentrate. She made a few desultory plans for planting vegetables, and wondered if it was warm enough for peaches to grow against the house wall, but her thoughts were with Oliver. He would be home soon, she thought, looking out to sea. The short winter afternoon was passing, and already she could make out very little. In another half-hour darkness would fall, the tide would turn, and he would come back again.
She turned her attention back to the garden, and was just deciding it would be sensible to put a path down the centre of the patch to make it easier to weed when Constance joined her. One look at Constance's face showed her that something was wrong.
"What is it?" she asked.
"It's the militia. They're here again. I didn't want to disturb you when I heard someone at the door, in case it was just a neighbour leaving a card, but it was Captain Johnson. He asked to see you. I told him you were busy. I don't approve of soldiers forcing their way into decent homes and accusing people of things they haven't done," she said. "I was about to close the door when he put his boot in the way and asked for Mr. Bristow. I told him Mr. Bristow was out and tried to close the door again, but somehow he managed to push it open and walked inside. He was very polite, but I don't trust him. He wasn't invited in, and yet he came in anyway. He said he needed to see Mr. Bristow and that he would wait. I tried to show him into the sitting-room, but he took himself into the library instead, though how he knew where it was is beyond me. He has settled himself down there, and says he will stay there until Mr. Bristow's return."
Susannah's face registered her alarm, and Constance said, "I'm sorry, I never meant to let him in."
"It's not your fault," said Susannah, plucking at her cloak.
"I hope there's nothing wrong?" asked Constance.
Susannah wondered what to say, but decided she must take Constance into her confidence.
"I'm afraid to say that something is very much wrong. I have not been honest with you Constance, and I hope you will forgive me, but it was done for the best. Mr. Bristow and his friends are not here to try and find an estate to buy, they are here to rescue people from France. That is why they took Harstairs House. They needed somewhere on the coast, so that they could put out to sea without being seen."
"Oh my!" When Constance had recovered from her shock, she said, "I had no idea. What a brave thing to do — and what a dangerous one." Her brow furrowed. "But I don't see what it has to do with the militia."
"Some of the militia are hoping to claim a reward offered by a Jacobin named Duchamp, who wants to stop anyone attempting to run rescue missions. He has put a price on Oliver's head."
Constance paled.
"What are we to do?" she said.
"We must try and lure the militia out of the library. There is a secret passage there, leading up from the cove. Somehow, Captain Johnson must have learnt of it, as he must have learnt that Oliver is due to return tonight, which is why he is sitting there. He means to catch Oliver as he emerges from the passage with the men and women he has rescued. The captain is hoping to claim a reward for Oliver and his friends, and for every escaped prisoner they have saved."
"But how are we to do it?" asked Constance.
Susannah's spirits fell. She did not see any way of forcing armed men to leave a room they had chosen to sit in.
"I confess, I can't see a way, so we must think of something else. I know. I will go down to the beach and warn Oliver. He will be landing soon. I will tell him not to come up to the house. He will have to wait in one of the coves until the militia have departed."
"Oh, no, that won't do," said Constance, shaking her head.
"Why not?" asked Susannah.
"Because Captain Johnson said that if Mr. Bristow had gone down to the beach, he would meet his men. They were patrolling the shore, he said, as there were smugglers in the neighbourhood."
"They mean to cut him off," said Susannah. "They must know where the other end of the secret passage lies. They will wait for him to go into the cave and then guard the exit. If he tries to double back once he knows the captain is in the library, he will be caught."
"Whatever are we to do?" asked Constance anxiously.
An idea was already forming at the back of Susannah's mind.
"There is another passage," she said. "It's under the sundial in the courtyard garden. I discovered it when I was cleaning and pressed the 'o' of the sundial's motto: Time and tide wait for no man.' I don't know exactly where it leads, but when I opened it I heard the sea, so it must lead to somewhere along the beach. I mean to follow it, and then use it to provide Oliver with a safe route to the house."
"I'll come with you," said Constance stoutly.
"No. I need you to stay here and keep an eye on the militia. Don't let them go into the courtyard garden. I dare not pull the sundial back in place after myself in case I become trapped. It should not be obvious that it has been moved unless the captain goes into the courtyard, and I see no reason why he should do that. Try and keep them from leaving the library. As long as they are there, we know where they are."
"But if they want to explore, how will I stop them?" asked Constance.
"I'm sure you'll think of a way," said Susannah, putting her hand on Constance's shoulder.
"I will do my best. But won't you be afraid in the dark?" asked Constance. "The light's fading fast, and it will be black in the passage."
"I'll take the storm lantern. My only worry is what we can do with the people Oliver has rescued once we get them back to the house. Some of them may be i
njured. They will all be cold and probably wet. There will be women and children amongst them," she said, as she went into the kitchen. "We will need somewhere to hide them until the militia depart."
"The fire's lit in the sitting-room," said Constance. "We can take them in there."
"But will the sitting-room be safe? I don't think so. When Oliver doesn't return, the captain might grow impatient and search the house."
"We can put them in the attic," said Constance. "There's plenty of room up there."
"But the stairs creak dreadfully. We could get one or two people up the stairs, perhaps, if we were lucky, but not more. We would be heard."
She stopped, her eyes on the far wall.
"What is it?" asked Constance, following her gaze.
"The wash house," said Susannah with energy. "If we hide them in there, then once they are inside, we can push the dresser in front of the door. It will completely cover it, and the captain will not even know it is there. There is no other entrance. It will be as if the room does not exist."
"It will be cold in there," said Constance consideringly. "I'd better light a fire."
"Do that, and put the rugs down on the floor." She gave a faint smile. "It's fortunate we carried so many towels and quilts in there. At least the rescued people will be able to dry themselves and keep themselves warm. Have the kettle boiling so we can give everyone a hot drink when they arrive, and put some food in the wash house. Once we have covered the door we want to make sure it can remain closed overnight if necessary. You had better put some whisky in there, too. Remember, they will have spent hours on a ship."
"I'll see to everything," said Constance, adding under her breath, "including chamber pots."
"Good. Then I must go. If the captain asks after me, tell him I have gone for a walk."
"Very good."
She picked up the storm lantern, then hurried upstairs to the sitting-room, moving as quietly as she could. Her heart was beating rapidly by the time she reached it, as she had feared that at any moment Captain Johnson might come out of the library and see her. But she managed to gain the room without mishap.
Harstairs House Page 15
