“Grenville doesn’t necessarily need to be as deeply involved as you suppose, old chap,” replied Sir Richard lightly. “He wouldn’t be the first gentleman to arrange for a keg of brandy to be delivered secretly at his back door for his own use. Quite a common occurrence in these parts, I’d say.”
“D’ you really think that?” Laurence sounded crestfallen. “If it’s no more than that, well, I suppose there’s not much harm, after all.”
“No, indeed. I tell you what, Laurie, how’d you like to accompany me to Brighton tomorrow to see how my friend Colonel Wexham’s progressing with his volunteer force? There was some mention of the men he’s already raised going off on exercises shortly. I can’t promise anything, of course, but it may be possible for you to join them.”
Laurence’s eyes kindled with enthusiasm. “I say, do you really think there’s a chance? That would be famous! It’s the very thing I could wish for, now that Madeleine’s little mystery is solved, and things look like becoming devilish flat here!”
And that is precisely my intention, thought Sir Richard. He had been careful to keep his views to himself, but privately he considered that Laurence and Corinna had been fishing in waters more deep and dangerous than they realised. It now became a matter of urgency to keep them out of serious trouble. The only remedy with Laurence was to remove him from the scene altogether and give him a fresh outlet for his energies. As far as Corinna was concerned, the remedy was not so simple; he could but try to appeal to her common sense. He did not relish the task.
He attempted it on the following morning, when he arrived to take up Laurence for the drive to Brighton. Lydia was occupied for the moment with domestic duties and Corinna was strolling idly in the garden. Telling the impatient Laurence that he wanted a quiet word with his sister, Sir Richard followed her there.
He went straight to the point, explaining his intentions with regard to Laurence.
“Oh, yes, that will be capital,” she said in approval. “He needs occupation, and there’s nothing for him now that Madeleine’s affairs are in a way to being settled.”
“I’ve good reason to believe,” he went on, choosing his words carefully, “that in tracing Madeleine’s cousin we’ve uncovered a particularly nasty hornet’s nest, and that both of you would do well to avoid further involvement.”
“You mean the smuggling?” she asked. “I expect you feel that it’s your duty to inform on this man, but if you do so, poor Madeleine cannot return to France. You couldn’t be so cruel, Richard!”
“No, I don’t think I could. After she has gone, however, it won’t be possible to evade the issue. In the meantime, I earnestly beg of you to have as little as possible to do with your friend.”
“Not see Madeleine, when soon we’ll be parted forever — or at least until this wretched war ends! No, I won’t do it, and what is more, you have no right to ask it of me!”
“Only the right of a long-standing family friend who has your best interests at heart,” he said quietly.
By now, her face was flushed and her eyes blazing. She was in no mood for reason.
“My best interests! I am vastly tired of both my family and you presuming to know what my interests are! Surely, I may be supposed to be the proper judge of that,” she retorted in a voice charged with scorn. “I will not be dictated to, Sir Richard Beresford, by you or by anyone else! Have the goodness to leave me alone!”
To her astonishment instead of obeying this injunction, he caught her wrists in a firm grasp and pulled her towards him, his blue eyes unaccustomedly fierce.
“Leave you alone to put yourself into danger?” he demanded sternly. “Yes, you would be well served if I did. But allow me to tell you, Miss Haydon — since we are to be so formal! — that your tantrums don’t impress me in the slightest, so you may as well cease playing them off on me.”
She dragged her wrists loose from his hold and stamped her foot viciously.
“How — how dare you!”
“I can’t imagine,” he said coolly. “But I rather wish I had dared more in the past. I have been too easy with you, I fear.”
“Too easy! Oh, you — you odious monster! Leave me at once — at once, I say!”
He bowed. “Very well. But I shall still be there, if you should need me.”
“That will be never!” she flashed.
He gave a crooked smile. “Who knows?”
Then he turned on his heel and went back to the house, to leave immediately.
It was only to be expected that Lydia would take her brother-in-law’s part. She knew very little of the situation, for Corinna and Laurence had so far kept most of their activities from her. Now, however, Corinna could see no harm in telling her everything. Indeed, when she flounced into the parlour shortly after parting from Sir Richard and found her sister there, she could not refrain from giving vent to her feelings.
Lydia heard it all with many expressions of shocked surprise and dismay.
“Merciful heavens!” she exclaimed at the end. “It’s a marvel that you and Laurie have not come to serious harm, such mad starts as the pair of you indulge in! Don’t you think, Corinna, that it’s high time you stopped behaving like a hoydenish schoolgirl and tried for a little more conduct? I do not at all wonder that Richard should be angry with you.”
“What right has he to be angry with me? Even if Mama turns to him for guidance, I have no intention of doing so! He is not a relative of mine — if anyone has any right to meddle in my affairs, it would be my own brother, not your brother-in-law!”
“Laurie?” Lydia laughed. “Oh, yes, a fine one he would be to counsel you, I’ll vow! Why, you are both fit for Bedlam!” Then, seeing the affronted look on her sister’s face, her tone changed. “But seriously, my love, I most heartily endorse Richard’s advice not to involve yourself further in the French girl’s concerns. You have played your part in helping her to find her cousin, and now everything must be left to him.”
“I realise that, of course, but what I refused to promise Richard was that I would not see her again during the short time she is to remain here. Madeleine is my friend, and one doesn’t desert a friend because it happens to be expedient to do so.”
Lydia sighed, recognising defeat. “Very well, I’ll say no more on that head. But Richard is a friend, too, Corinna, and I do wish you didn’t find it necessary always to mete out such Turkish treatment to the poor fellow.”
“Poor fellow, indeed! He can give as good as he gets, I assure you!”
“Oh, yes, I believe he can, but he never does where you are concerned. He is too tolerant towards you by half.”
“The very words he used himself to me not half an hour since,” said Corinna scornfully. “Well, only let him try bullying me, that is all!”
Lydia looked at her consideringly. That sparkle in the eye — was it only defiance, or was there some other element, not so readily defined?
“I believe you would like that,” she said shrewdly.
Her sister suddenly flushed and flounced out of the room.
It was late that same evening when Laurence returned in a jubilant mood.
“It’s all worked out famously!” he told them. “Richard’s fixed up with Colonel Wexham for me to go with the others on manoeuvres, but more than that, I’ll have Cheveley with me! We looked in at their house in Rottingdean, and he’d come down from London expressly to join the local volunteers. His parents invited me to stay there until the force is ready to move, so I’ll be off in the morning, lock, stock, and barrel! Dare say you’ll be glad to be rid of me for a bit, Lyddy, if the truth’s known.”
“How could you possibly think so, and you such a restful creature! But tell me how you went on at Rottingdean — the ladies were quite well, I trust?”
“Oh, yes, they seemed in prime twig. Not that I saw much of them, for Cheveley and I had a deal to talk about. I believe they sent messages for you, but you must ask Richard about that, for he was chatting to Miss Cheveley for some time befor
e we came away.”
Was he indeed? thought Corinna. Well, doubtless he finds her company preferable to mine, for she would never forget herself so far as to quarrel with him. She would sit smiling up at him, tossing her black curls in a prodigiously fetching way, as she had done recently at the dinner party at Chyngton Manor. Why had they called at the Cheveleys’ house at all? It must have been Richard’s idea, for Laurence would scarcely think of it, not knowing then that his friend young Cheveley had come down from London.
It appeared that Richard was bent on seeking out Miss Frances Cheveley. Well, let him, and see if Corinna Haydon cared one jot! She noticed that he had not troubled himself to come into the house this evening, merely dropping Laurence off at the door.
He appeared only briefly on the following morning, too, for the purpose of conveying Laurence and his traps over to Rottingdean. Laurence was in high spirits and could not wait to set out for his new adventure.
CHAPTER TWENTY
During the days that followed the interview with her cousin, Madeleine felt at peace for the first time since leaving her native country. She had fulfilled her promise to the curé, yet matters had so arranged themselves that now she was free to follow the inclinations of her heart. Jacques had collected the letter which she had written to Monsieur Landier — a short letter, but one in which feeling fully compensated for brevity — and had promised an early delivery. Now she had but to wait in patience until the time came to make the crossing to France. She would be sad to leave her English friends who had been so good to her; but all else paled before the thought of being united with her beloved.
She retired to her room one night with happy thoughts such as these running through her mind. Yet, in spite of the labours of the day, she was not ready for sleep. Instead of undressing, she stood for a long time at her window, gazing down into the stableyard. It was a moonlit night, warm and sultry, and after a while she quietly raised the lower sash to stand leaning out, her elbows resting on the sill. Sunk deep in her reverie, she was startled by the sound of hooves approaching. She drew her head in from the window sharply as a horse and rider came into the yard. She could see that the beast was almost spent, and the rider covered in dust. Evidently this was one of Mr Grenville’s midnight visitors, and he had ridden far.
It seemed that he was not expected, however, on this occasion, for Mr Grenville was not waiting to receive him. The rider slid wearily from his horse and looked apathetically about him. Tethering the animal, which showed little inclination to wander, he moved indecisively towards the house.
At this point, caution urged Madeleine to move farther back from the window. She was about to do so when the muted sound of another set of footsteps reached her ears. Curiosity kept her where she was, and she saw that Mr Grenville had now arrived to accost the visitor. She could not hear the words, but the lowered tone seemed challenging.
The stranger replied swiftly, a lengthy speech with a wealth of gesture which suggested one of her fellow countrymen to the watching girl. So far, she had distinguished nothing but a mumble, but now for a moment Grenville’s angry tone brought his words quite clearly to her ears.
“Good God, there’ll be all hell to pay over this! Why the devil did you come here? Clear out — I want no part in it!”
The other man’s answer was inaudible, but there was no mistaking the menace in his attitude. For a few moments they argued, then Grenville appeared to submit. He led his visitor’s horse into a stable, then reappeared to conduct the man himself away, presumably into the house.
Madeleine considered that she had seen enough. She recalled her cousin’s advice; she must keep away from the strange comings and goings in this house, not seek to pry. She waited a while until she felt it was safe, then quietly shut the window and prepared herself for bed. Sleep was long in coming.
Soon after breakfast the next morning, she was summoned to Mrs Benton’s presence. The lady seemed out of temper as she informed Madeleine peremptorily that she must leave the house at once.
“Leave, madame? But — but — do you then mean I am dismissed?” stammered Madeleine, taken aback.
“No such thing, girl. I am reasonably satisfied with your work and willing to keep you on, but you can no longer lodge under this roof. I warned you that it could be only a temporary arrangement. You must go at once, today.”
“Today? But where am I to go, madame? I tried before to obtain a lodging in the village—”
“It’s no concern of mine where you go,” interrupted Mrs Benton crossly, “but go you must. The master commands it. Not but what,” she went on, petulantly, forgetting her audience for a moment, “it is monstrously inconvenient for me not to have you at hand to assist me at night in retiring. However, my wishes and comfort are of small account, it seems.”
She recollected herself suddenly and scowled at the troubled girl. “Doubtless one of the other maids can help you to find a lodging. I cannot be expected to trouble myself in the matter. The most I can do is to give you the rest of the day off so that you can settle your affairs. Be back sharp on six o’clock, though, to dress me for dinner. You understand, do you not, that you must have somewhere else to go for this very night, so that you may leave the house at the same time as the rest of the staff? I trust I make myself clear?”
Madeleine assented, going up to her room in a slightly bemused state. It was not such a blow as it would have been a few days ago, since Jacques had already announced his intention of finding her another lodging. She must let him know at once. They had made an arrangement whereby in an emergency she could leave a message for him with the landlord’s wife at the Tiger Inn.
She set out for the village at once, and was soon asking at the back door for Mrs Warren, who was unknown to her.
Presently a thin, sharp-faced woman appeared, wearing an apron tied over a brown holland gown. She looked Madeleine up and down, then demanded to know her business.
“I’ve a message for Jack,” said Madeleine. “It’s very urgent. Do you think you can convey it to him at once?”
The woman nodded. She closed the door firmly, drawing her visitor into the adjacent washhouse, which was empty. “What’s to tell?”
“I must see him without delay, before this evening. Tell him it’s Madeleine — he will know where to find me.”
The woman repeated the name to be sure she had it right, but otherwise displayed no curiosity. Evidently, thought Madeleine, she was quite accustomed to receiving messages for Jacques from unlikely sources; she and her husband were probably involved in the smuggling, too.
Madeleine thanked her and was about to leave, but the woman laid a detaining hand on her arm.
“Wait here,” she instructed. “He’ll come to you if he wants to see you, else I’ll tell you to go. Mebbe a half hour, mebbe longer, no saying. Just wait.”
Madeleine waited. It seemed a very long time standing immobile on the stone floor of the washhouse, about which a smell of damp and soapsuds lingered. There was nowhere to sit, so she leaned against the large copper with its wooden lid and the hole underneath where the fire was lit on washdays.
The door opened at last and he was there. He listened imperturbably while she explained, then nodded.
“Arrangements are already made, little cousin, so calm yourself. And your letter is on its way. I’ve found a lodging for you in a cottage on the outskirts of the village. Not that you’ll be there much longer. I’ll know more later, but I think I may have a passenger to take over to France in a few days’ time. If so, you could come, too, though it would be wiser for you to dress as a boy. I can arrange for suitable garments.”
“Dress as a boy — oh!” Madeleine’s cheeks flushed. “But I don’t care, not I, if only I may go quickly to France! And will you yourself be coming?”
“Of a surety, for this is a very important passenger, not to be trusted to others.”
“You are very kind to me, Cousin Jacques. Tell me, what should I pay this good woman?”
“That is taken care of already. Now go. I will come to you at the cottage some time after dark during the next few nights in order to tell you of my plans,” he said in parting. “Be ready to leave for France at a moment’s notice.”
That same afternoon, Corinna was hopefully awaiting a visit from Madeleine so that she could tell her friend of Laurence’s departure for Brighton and also deliver his farewell messages. As she walked up and down in the shrubbery, she reflected sadly that they would have so little time now to be together before they were separated by a cruel war that turned friends into enemies.
She sighed, allowing her thoughts to drift. It had been prodigiously clever of Sir Richard to contrive such an irresistible scheme for removing Laurence from this neighbourhood. She had seen through it, of course, and guessed that he would have liked to do the same for her. What was it that he feared for them both when he had spoken of a nasty hornet’s nest? It could not be only the smugglers, for Madeleine’s cousin would see to it that no further violence occurred. Besides, Richard intended to put a stop to their activities as soon as Madeleine had left the country. All along she had sensed that there was something more in his mind, something which he saw as a serious threat to herself in particular.
Could it be that, like Laurie, Richard secretly believed that Fabian Grenville was working with the smugglers? He had played the suggestion down when Laurie made it, but that was only to be expected; any hint of support would at once have inflamed Laurie’s curiosity. That would be a hornet’s nest indeed, she reflected, with an involuntary shudder. If an investigation into the smuggling business should lead to the discovery that Grenville had a part in it, a scandal must ensue in which none of his neighbours would care to be involved. And Richard would consider that this would affect her more than anyone, for he was well aware that she had fallen in love with Mr Grenville last summer. Mama had made sure that he knew, she thought bitterly.
The Intrepid Miss Haydon Page 17