He came to the door so quickly—and fully dressed—that she knew he must sit up every night until he heard her come safely back to the house. “What is it, miss?”
“Mr. Ross is back. He wants to see you, Parkes, in the cloisters. No one else is to know. Not even Jem. He says he must go, tomorrow night, in the Frenchman’s place. Dissuade him if you can, Parkes.”
“Me? Change Mr. Ross’s mind for him? Miss Christina! But … it’s tricky … not even Jem? Yes … well, that makes sense. The rest of them don’t know, of course …”
“That he’s anything more than a smuggler? No, I thought not …” It explained a good deal. “But, Parkes—to go to France …”
“He’s been before.”
“Does that make it any less dangerous? More so, I should have thought. Oh, if only he’d let me talk to him.”
“Wasting your breath, miss.” Parkes had by now enveloped himself in his heavy greatcoat and was ready to go. “I’ll tell you something he said to me, once, when I was talking much as you are now. ‘There are things, Parkes, that are more important than safety.’ That’s what he said, and there you have it.”
“Yes … thank you, Parkes. But tell him to be careful. For his own sake.”
“Of course. Good night, miss.”
But still she lingered, blocking the doorway. “If I could only see him again, before he goes. Ask him, Parkes?”
“I’ll ask him, if you like. But he said not?”
“Yes.”
“Well then?”
She sighed. “I know. Good night, Parkes.”
Chapter Eight
Next morning was sunshine after storm. But the blue prospect of spreading bay and misty cliff was small comfort to Christina. Straining her eyes, she saw, far out to sea, the sails of a small ship.
“Betty!”
“Yes, miss.” Betty finished pouring hot water into the rose-wreathed basin and put down her jug.
“Come and look. What’s that ship?”
“Ooh.” A long sigh of excitement. And then, casually, “One of them French privateers, by the looks of her.”
“I thought so. There was one, was there not, the first day I was here?”
“Was there?” More casual than ever, “I’m sure I don’t remember.”
So Betty knew all about the smuggling too. A father? A brother? Was the whole household in the know? At least it was no wonder that there had been no comment on the steady disappearance of food from the larder. Very likely everyone in the servants’ hall knew of the stranger hiding in the cloisters. So long as they thought of him only as a French smuggler …
Hurrying downstairs to her solitary breakfast, Christina wondered where Ross was now. In the cloisters still, sharing whatever Jem brought for the Frenchman? No, surely if he had intended spending the day there, he would have let her come to him. Or would he? At all events, without his permission, she knew she could not go. Perhaps he would still be there when she made tonight’s visit to M. Tissot. She spilled coffee. Absurd to hope; she knew perfectly well he would be gone.
A summons, immediately after breakfast, to her grandfather’s rooms was a relief because it was a distraction. Or, at least, a relief till she got there. He was sitting up in his big four-poster bed, his breakfast tray pushed down toward his feet, the mail bag open on the bed beside him.
“Good morning, Grandfather.” She leaned down to kiss the dry cheek. “Is the mail here already?”
“Yesterday’s. And still not a word from Ross. I’ll not endure it, I tell you! If he thinks he can turn me up sweet by this kind of behavior, he’ll soon find his mistake. I want you to write a letter for me, Christina. At once.”
“Grandfather—”
“Don’t ‘Grandfather’ me,” he interrupted her. “I may be an old man but I know my own mind still, and I know an insult when I get one. How long’s he been gone? No—don’t tell me, I can count. And not a word. Right—so much for Ross. Sit down, girl. Find pen and paper. The letter’s to Foxton, of course. You know how to dear sir him and all that. Put it politely, if you want to, but tell him to come back—at once. And to bring a new will with him, ready drafted. Everything to you, on condition you give no help of any kind to Ross—or Richard, for the matter of that. D’you know what he’s planning? Richard! To sell the Grange! Sell it, I tell you, the minute he inherits. I’ve a letter here from a friend—the young fool’s not even got the sense to keep his mouth shut till I’m dead. At least you were right about him, I’ll say that for you. And as for Master Ross, you be quiet, girl, and be grateful if I don’t brand him a bastard for all the world to know of. Flout my commands, will he? Go off to London in a huff and never write! I’ll show him.… Now what are you doing?”
She had risen and moved away to the far side of the room. “Fetching you your drops, Grandfather. You will undoubtedly have one of your attacks if you go on shouting so.” She poured the drops into a glass and held it out to him with a steady hand. “There, drink that and listen to me for a moment. This is all my fault.”
“Your fault? Nonsense!” And then, on a different note, “What do you mean?”
“Just that I engaged myself to Ross the night you made your remarkable proposition.”
“What! And never told me!”
“No. Allow me a little pride. I do not really enjoy being put up to the highest bidder, but if it had to be Ross or Richard—well, what would you have done?”
“Just what you have! There’s my good girl! Take away those nauseous drops! I don’t need drops! This is such a tonic as I’ve not had these thirty years. I knew I’d bring things about yet, and, by God, I’ve done it. Engaged yourself to Ross, did you, and never told me! Well, I don’t altogether say I blame you for that. A girl must have her pride, what? But where is the wretched boy? Not insulting me, then, but … you perhaps? I won’t stand for that, and so you may tell him.”
“Nothing of the kind, Grandfather. I wish you will try not to jump to conclusions so. Ross is in London on my business …”
“Your business?”
“Yes. I told that nice young Lieutenant Trevis the day Ross left. He’s in town on my account. I had heard, you see, from my father’s man of business. There were some loose ends to be tied up. Ross is doing it for me.”
“Oh?” A very sharp glance from under the bushy brows. “Should I believe a word you are telling me, do you think?”
“Suit yourself, Grandfather. Lieutenant Trevis did.”
“Hmmm … I thought him easily satisfied. Made big eyes at him, I suppose, and had him eating out of your hand. Well, just as well, come to that. But when’s he coming back?”
“The lieutenant?”
“Don’t pretend to be stupid, girl. You know I mean Ross.
“I don’t know. I’ve heard nothing from him. I can only suppose the business took longer than he expected. Or maybe he’s not best pleased either to be bullied into matrimony.”
“Bullied? Who said anything about bullying? Didn’t have to propose to you, did he? Well then … anyway, he’ll come round, don’t you worry, girl. He’ll realize soon enough how lucky he is.”
“Do you think so?” She could not quite keep the bitterness out of her voice.
“I’m sure of it. Now don’t you start getting missish notions into your head. You know as well as I do you’re just what Ross needs, only he’s let that mother of his put him off the whole notion of females. And you can’t blame him for that either. Give him a little time and he’ll come round, sweet as sixpence; you see if he doesn’t.”
“I thought time was just what you did not propose to give him.”
“What? Oh, you mean the proviso about my dying. Yes, but I don’t reckon to die yet, girl. So long as my health stays good you can have as long an engagement as you please, and bring Ross round your thumb by easy stages. I tell you, I’ll enjoy watching that. It will give me something to live for. Life gets dull, you know, when you’re old, and this will be as good as a play to me.”
; Anger rose to flood tide in her. As good as a play, indeed! He would watch, would he, while she and Ross played out his comedy for him? Almost, she burst out with it all—almost, but not quite. As always, in moments of crisis, she thought of her father. “Think before you speak, Christina.” How often he had said it, and how right he had been. The moment had passed. She rose to her feet. “I am glad you find it all so entertaining, Grandfather.”
“Still angry with me?” He was no fool. “Never mind, you’ll bless me yet, you see if you don’t.”
Luckily for her, Parkes made an answer unnecessary. “Lieutenant Trevis is here, Miss Christina, asking for you.”
“Trevis? Is he … alone?”
“Yes, miss.” A quick exchange of glances. “No search party this time.”
“Well, thank goodness for that. It was quite bad enough clearing up after the last one. You will excuse me, Grandfather?”
“Of course. I told you he was sweet on you. Off you go, girl, and administer the coup de grâce, but don’t forget Ross.”
“Trust me, I won’t.”
Lieutenant Trevis was awaiting her in the small downstairs room she used as study and office combined. “Miss Tretton!” His color was high as he came forward to greet her. “I was riding by and could not resist the temptation to call and make sure you have forgiven me for the inconvenience we caused you on our last visit. And that you have had no trouble since.”
“Trouble?”
“I did wonder. You see, we have found no trace of the wounded man, and no one is missing locally either. You would have let me know, I am sure, if any of your servants had been mysteriously indisposed.”
“Of course.” She felt a brute. “No, the staff, such as they are, are all present and all well. I was sure, you know, that your men deluded themselves when they thought they had wounded one of the smugglers.”
“I suppose that must be it. She’s here again. Had you noticed?”
“She?”
“They call her a French privateer, but I’m convinced she’s the smugglers’ contact. I’m on my way now to alert the shore batteries between here and Rye Harbor. She was here for several days, I remember, hovering on and off, before our last affray. I wish I knew where they got their information. It’s always when the Downs Squadron is out at sea, otherwise we’d soon have the lot of them in Dover Castle. She’s too fast for any of our small ships, but just let a line of battle ships get after her, and it would be the end of our troubles. I sent an urgent message to the Admiralty this morning. I just hope some good may come of it. But of course there’s no chance of getting anything done for a day or so and no doubt by then she’ll have landed her cargo and skedaddled. If only I knew where.… You’ve seen nothing suspicious, Miss Tretton? I know you like to walk on the beach.”
“Not a thing.” This at least was true. “But surely they would never land in the same place twice?”
“Unless as a kind of a double bluff. They’re a wily lot, this gang. No good deceiving oneself they’re just a parcel of country bumpkins. There’s a brain behind them—and all the information they could wish. You’ll say nothing to anyone of what I’ve told you, will you? I have no doubt you have one of their informers right here in this house.”
“You terrify me, Mr. Trevis.” This, too, was perfectly true.
“Don’t expect me to believe that,” he said. “You’re not one to be afraid of a cowardly gang of smugglers, Miss Tretton. You’re …” He paused, colored and, greatly to her relief, took his leave.
It went sadly against the grain with her, but as soon as he was gone she rang the bell for Parkes.
“Come in and shut the door,” she greeted him. And then, “There’s no one outside?”
“No, miss.”
“Good. You must tell Mr. Ross they’re on the lookout for him. Lieutenant Trevis has recognized the ship … the posts will be alerted all along the coast And—there’s worse—he’s sent to the Admiralty for a frigate.”
“I doubt he’ll get one, miss, for a mere privateer. And … Mr. Ross has gone. But”—he saw the change in her face—“I’ll do my best to get a message to him. It’s to be tonight, but not here.”
“Thank God for that. I think Lieutenant Trevis is expecting what he calls a double bluff.”
“That’s just what Mr. Ross said. Now, don’t you worry about anything, Miss Christina. It will all go right, I promise you. Mr. Ross is not without friends, you know; powerful ones. It’s just that they can’t show themselves in the business. If he were so unlucky as to be caught, it would be another matter. Then they would intervene on his behalf. It would be the end of his usefulness, of course.”
“I don’t care about that. But, Parkes, he might not survive until his powerful friends intervened.”
“Mr. Ross? He’s got nine lives. Don’t you worry yourself about him.” And then, “That Frenchman’s worse again. Can you come early this evening?”
“I’ll do my best. Is it bad enough, do you think, that I should risk a daytime visit?”
“I don’t think so, but he’s awful restless and muttering away to himself fit to beat the band.”
“Oh dear, and I thought he was well on the way to recovery. Parkes …”
“Yes, miss?”
Best not ask it. The less she knew, the better. “Nothing. Only … I wish it were all over.”
“So do we all, miss. But it won’t be, not while Boney’s running wild over there. Remember, every risk Mr. Ross takes helps to bring the day of his downfall nearer.”
“You really think so?”
“I know so, miss. He works direct to Mr. Pitt himself. Many’s the war plan has been changed suddenly after Mr. Ross landed one of his cargoes.”
“He really does smuggle?” She had somehow hoped against hope that it was merely a false front.
“Course he does. How would he get the help else? Don’t look so grave, miss. No one thinks anything of a little smuggling, down here on the marsh.” And then, on a totally different note, “Very good, Miss Christina, I’ll see to it at once.”
He held the door open courteously for Mrs. Tretteign, who rustled into the room with her usual discontented expression. “You might have told me we had a guest, Christina. It is not at all the thing for you to be receiving young men by yourself.”
“Young … oh, you mean the lieutenant.”
“He hasn’t got a long gray beard that I have noticed. These hoydenish tricks may be all very well in those United States of yours, but they won’t do here, Christina, and so I must warn you.”
“Thank you, Aunt.” And then, unable to carry meekness any further, “But I did not think you would be dressed for company so early.”
“Now was I, or I should have been here sooner. I care about your reputation—and the family’s—even if you do not. I have been meaning to have a word with you ever since the young men left. They are your cousins, of course, which is some excuse for the freedom of behavior you allowed yourself with them, but—Lieutenant Trevis! One of the army’s new officers, jumped up from God knows where! I’ve seldom been so shocked in my life.”
“You surprise me, Aunt.” Best leave it at that.
“Dear Christina.” Mrs. Tretteign amazed her by taking her hand and fixing her with a look that was meant to be charged with meaning. If it failed somewhat of its purpose, this was largely because Christina stood a head taller than she. Apparently aware of this difficulty, Mrs. Tretteign pulled gently on the unresisting hand and led her to a small sofa. “There.” She settled herself with a pretty rustling of skirts. “Dear Christina, I have so longed for just such a comfortable chat as this. We have so much to say to each other, you and I.”
“Have we?” Christina knew she sounded farouche, and did not care.
“Of course we have. Dear child, do you not understand how I feel for you in the appalling position into which Papa has forced you. There is no need for us to beat about the bush is there, my love? If we cannot talk frankly to each other, who can?”
>
Who indeed? But Christina left the thought unsaid, merely fixing her aunt with a look of what she hoped would be taken for intelligent inquiry.
“The old man’s mad, of course,” Mrs. Tretteign went on. “But not, I fear, provably so. Mr. Foxton’s never cared a rush for the rest of us. It leaves us in a mighty awkward situation.”
“Us?” Christina could not help it.
“Of course. Am I not telling you how I feel for you? But don’t fret, my dear, it could be much worse. Richard will make an admirably complaisant husband. Really, he’s just what a girl like you needs.”
“Richard?”
“Well, naturally.” A peal of girlish laughter. “You don’t think I am going to go down on my bended knees and plead my son’s cause, do you? Ross! He cares no more for me, nor for you, nor for anyone than the man in the moon. All he wants is the Grange. Marry him and you’ll be condemned to penal servitude for life here on the marsh—and I with you. Surely Richard must have explained to you that his ideas are quite different.”
“Yes, he did.”
“Well, there you are! It’s simple as a-b-c. Marry him, and we’re all free. Don’t think I shall hang on your coattails. Bath’s my plan, or perhaps Cheltenham spa. With money …” She stopped, confused, and Christina could hardly help feeling sorry for her.
“You mean,” she said, “that Richard has promised you an income out of the estate in return for your support?”
“Richard is a dear boy, and loves his aunt. You think it strange, I can see, that I should prefer him to my own son—well, that’s just it. I brought them both up, you know. Richard has been consideration itself always to his old aunt, while as for Ross! Well! His behavior now is all of a piece—rushes off to London, makes his grandfather furious, and never troubles himself with a word to me.”
“You’re wrong, you know, Aunt Tretteign.”
“Wrong?”
“Grandfather’s not a bit angry with Ross. On the contrary—”
Watch the Wall, My Darling Page 12