Frances swallowed, leaning even closer. ‘I... I do not know anything for certain, but he talks when he is drunk. I cannot understand everything that he says. But...it...it is bad.’ Frances’s words came out in a trembling, stammering rush.
She released Millie’s hand, drawing her knees to her chest and hugging them tightly. The baleen springs creaked with her movement. There was a wildness to her face that was both frightening and pathetic.
‘Is Jason involved in wrecking?’ Millie asked.
Frances’s gaze darted about the bedchamber, while hugging her knees even more fiercely. ‘I... I... I think about them...the people on the boats. I think about them all the time. I go down by the ocean and I think about them. I see their faces. I wonder if it is true. Sometimes I think it is. Sometimes I think it isn’t. I feel I should tell someone...but who would believe the ramblings of a mad woman...?’
‘Frances,’ Millie said gently but firmly. ‘You are not mad. You are very brave to have told me this. And I believe you.’
‘You do?’ The quick movement of her gaze stilled to rest on Millie’s face.
‘Yes, and I also think you are a wonderful mother to have taken Noah from that house. I want to talk to Sam, but rest assured that you will be safe here. I am going to leave both Flora and Marta to look after you.’
‘Will you tell?’
‘I will tell Sam. We will find proof. We will stop this and then the faces won’t worry you.’
Frances leaned back, allowing her legs to straighten on the bed and her hands to unclasp, as though finding some comfort and relief. ‘Please help Sam. He would never hurt anyone, but I worry he will take the blame.’
As do I, Millie thought.
‘We will find the truth and clear both you and Sam of any wrongdoing,’ she said.
‘You look very determined.’
‘To the point of stubbornness,’ Millie said with a grin.
* * *
Sir Anthony had not interviewed Sam when they’d stumbled into his home the night previous. Instead, he’d ordered that a room be made ready for his guest, stating that the whole matter would make more sense in the morning.
In the morning, Sir Anthony provided a pleasant repast and then announced a delay in the interview.
‘I think it would be better to investigate the matter in London,’ he said. ‘They have greater expertise in such matters.’
After learning this plan, Sam requested pen and paper and wrote to Frances, Millie and Banks, apprising them of the situation. In these missives, he assured them that they need not worry, while requesting that Banks pack and follow them on the five-day journey as quickly as possible.
In Millie’s letter he apologised for his rudeness the evening previous and requested that she allow Frances to remain at Lansdowne and to keep her safe. He added also that he would still do everything possible to ensure her sister need not marry Harwood.
As he signed and sealed the notes, he realised that, in some ways, he trusted Millie to an extent greater than any other. Mysterious fiancé or not, he felt an absolute certainty that she would shelter Frances. He trusted not only her willingness, but also her practical efficacy in doing so.
However, he could not so easily dismiss this almost or ‘unofficial’ engagement from his thoughts. Indeed, he continued to ruminate to a degree which was not sensible to the situation. What had she meant by that anyway? Why hadn’t she mentioned this before? How had he been so oblivious that this woman was promised to someone else?
And why did it feel as though the bottom had fallen out of his world? At no time had he consciously considered that they might have a future. Indeed, they had been too busy surviving the present. Moreover, Millicent Lansdowne was not the sort of individual he had envisaged marrying. Of course, he’d imagined marriage with only one individual, Miss Annie Whistler, who now appeared to him as vapid and entirely lacking in wit. He had learned the hard way that attraction was a fickle emotion.
Still, Millicent had made him less lonely. Briefly, he’d felt as though he had someone at his side. Indeed, he supposed this was true, at least with Frances.
However, he had been reminded that nothing lasted for ever and that he had learned long ago that life was a solo occupation.
* * *
Sir Anthony’s conveyance proved to be a large, cumbersome vehicle with a musty scent that suggested an aromatic history of all the shoes and cloaks it had housed. Sir Anthony proved considerate, offering him every courtesy—even suggesting a hot brick or blanket—so much so that Sam feared Sir Anthony had mistaken him for an elderly maiden aunt.
Still, as they rattled forward, Sam decided that going to London might not be a bad idea, even if it would be tiring. In Cornwall, he trusted no one, worrying that anyone could be connected with the wreckers or, if not conspirators themselves, might tip off the guilty party. In London he might be better able to seek justice without inviting risk.
As for Jason, his disappearance remained a mystery and Sam still worried about his own involvement. Perhaps he had seen his brother-in-law leave the house after his fight with Frances. Had he followed him, wanting to talk? Had they come to blows? Or had one of them merely tripped and the other had not offered assistance?
All scenarios seemed improbable, but then, half-drowning in the sea and being rescued by a female smuggler seemed improbable.
* * *
They were barely forty minutes into their journey when Sam noted the horses slowing and saw they were approaching a tavern just up the hill from Fowey.
‘It is convenient that we are here,’ Sir Anthony said, raising his stick to bang on the roof of the carriage. ‘Let us go in. I must chat to the landlord.’
The carriage stopped and Sir Anthony got out. ‘You might as well come, too. I rather think a brandy might be in order. Make the journey more pleasant.’
Sam followed. He was surprised that they were breaking their journey already, but was in no position to object. Besides, Banks would be better able to catch up with him this way.
Sir Anthony was served a generous brandy and consequently nodded off by the blazing fire. Sam watched the magistrate and was just considering waking him, when he heard a commotion in the hallway and the innkeeper’s raised voice. ‘Really, miss! I must protest. You cannot just stride in—’
The door was flung open and Miss Lansdowne entered the chamber, bringing with her a chill draft.
‘I am glad you have not left. You are still going to London?’ she asked, glancing towards Sir Antony, who was snoring sonorously.
‘Yes.’
‘Do not.’
‘Not exactly up to me,’ Sam said.
The conversation roused Sir Anthony, who straightened, blinking owlishly at Millie through his spectacles.
‘Miss Lansdowne,’ he said. ‘I did not expect to see you. You have news of Jason?’
‘No, sir, I just wanted to assure you and Mr Garrett that we will look after Mrs Ludlow and, of course, write to you in London if there is any news.’ She beamed at Sam. ‘Banks also requested that I provide you with an additional portmanteau, which I have left at your carriage.’
‘How is my sister?’ Sam asked.
‘Making progress. I know Marta and Flora will look after her and, of course, she can stay with us for as long as she would like.’
‘Very considerate, Miss Lansdowne.’ Sir Antony beamed. ‘Sorry for our swift departure. I thought it better to involve the professionals, you know. A bit out of my bailiwick.’
‘So wise,’ she agreed.
‘Anyway,’ Sir Anthony said, placing his hands on the arms of the chair and inhaling deeply, as he prepared himself for the effort of rising. ‘Mustn’t linger, long journey ahead, you know.’
‘Indeed, although it is after luncheon and I worry that you will both get hungry. Still, I suppose you can get something to eat on the wa
y. Although the smell in the hallway suggests that the landlord must have brought in Mrs Bridges today to make her roast beef. My mother always says Mrs Bridges’s beef is the best.’
‘That is true,’ Sir Anthony concurred. He pulled out his gold pocket watch, glancing down. ‘Good Lord, I have been snoozing a while. Perhaps we should have something to eat here; I mean, if you do not mind?’ He posed this last question to Sam.
‘I—’
‘I am certain he wouldn’t mind,’ Millie said. ‘And poor Banks is so very anxious to catch up to you.’
Sam studied Millie. Her dark blue eyes looked extra wide and her entire expression was one of sweet innocence. This made him completely convinced that she was up to something.
‘I am at your convenience, Sir Anthony,’ he said, knowing there was little harm in delaying. Banks would arrive. Possibly Jason would appear magically and solve all their problems. Or some of them. Or his memory would return.
‘Good.’ Sir Anthony rang the bell and the serving girl appeared. ‘Betsy, we’ll have the beef. Miss Lansdowne, will you stay?’
‘I would be delighted.’
‘Three beef dinners,’ Sir Anthony said. ‘And another brandy would be pleasant. Really, I do not think there is any need for a great rush to London. Perhaps the powers that be might even despatch someone down here. And really, Mrs Bridges’s beef is too good to miss.’
‘I do agree,’ Millie said. ‘And after your late night yesterday, it is little wonder that you are feeling fatigued.’
Betsy returned with the brandy while Sir Anthony and Millie discussed the climate which concluded with mutual agreement that Torquay enjoyed quite the most moderate temperatures on the British Isles. After this enlightening conversation, Millie rose.
‘I should see the innkeeper. I was rather rude when I burst in and must apologise,’ she said.
Sam raised a brow. ‘Unusual.’
‘I know; I am hardly ever rude.’
‘That is not quite what I meant.’
* * *
Millie returned some moments later and Betsy brought in the beef shortly thereafter. She put down the tray as Sir Anthony and Sam sat at the round table within the centre of the room. Millie passed around the plates, also pouring wine from a crystal decanter. She handed glasses to both gentlemen.
‘Thank you, miss,’ the maidservant said. ‘Though you do not need to bother.’
‘It is no trouble. Betsy, why do not you put some more coal on the fire and make it lovely and warm?’
Betsy did this, although Sam did not think it necessary as it was already burning brightly and the room was warm enough to be considered tropical. Sir Anthony ate his beef with enthusiasm, drank his wine and, after several muffled yawns, retired to a chair close to the fire. Within seconds they could hear his heavy breathing, followed by his rhythmic snores.
Sam glanced towards Millie. ‘You are determined to make the room so hot that we all fall asleep?’
‘No, only Sir Anthony.’
‘I cannot see the point. We will have to wake him sooner or later.’
‘I’d suggest not,’ Millie said. ‘I have every confidence he will sleep well tonight.’
Sam had picked up his fork, but laid it down again. The woman looked suspiciously demure. ‘What exactly do you mean?’
‘Only that he will get very adequate rest.’
‘What did you do?’ Sam asked. ‘I do not want a man’s poisoning on my conscious. Along with everything else.’
‘Nonsense—I merely gave him a small amount of my mother’s sleeping draught. He will be absolutely fine.’
He stared. ‘You cannot go around drugging people.’
‘I do not intend to make a habit of it,’ she said airily. ‘Now, did you want to discuss my moral compass or make use of the delay I have arranged?’
‘I—What do you have planned?’
‘We are going to see Sally and her father,’ Millie said.
‘Why?’
‘Come on, we can talk about the “whys” and “wherefores” later.’ Millie was already at the door to the corridor, looking at him with some impatience.
With a shrug, he followed. Sir Anthony did not appear likely to wake any time soon. They exited into the hallway, which was narrow, close and fragranced with roast beef. Indeed, he was quite glad to escape the muggy warmth and get into the brisk air outside.
‘So why are we seeing these people?’ he asked as they exited, the door closing behind them with a heavy thunk.
They stood to the left of the courtyard, facing the cliff, the silvery shimmer of the sea visible within the distance.
‘I spoke to Frances. She says that Jason told her things when he was drunk.’
‘Things?’
She scanned the courtyard. It was empty save for a donkey, a cart, Sir Anthony’s carriage and a lone lad, sweeping the straw some distance away. ‘He may have been involved in the smuggling and Frances suspects he was part of the wrecking.’
The words sent a shiver of cold shock through him. ‘Why did not she say?’
‘She did not know anything for certain and she was afraid. He spoke when he was drunk. She guessed the rest. I think that is why she is so obsessed with the sea.’
They looked at each other, acknowledging the unspoken words.
‘And these people, Sally and her father, will talk to us?’ he asked.
‘They want to get to the truth.’
‘And Sally’s father is a smuggler?’
‘Not any more, but he used to be. He knows a lot. People trust him,’ Millie said.
‘You do not owe me this. You have done enough.’
Briefly, her body stiffened. ‘I am not doing this for you.’
She started towards the clifftop. Despite the stubborn set of her shoulders and quick pace, she looked slight and vulnerable in her sombre skirts, starkly outlined against the sea.
He followed, more slowly. ‘Another cliff? There must be a road?’ He’d scrambled down enough cliffs to last a lifetime.
She glanced back towards the donkey. ‘I left the horse and gig at home and I used up Jeremiah’s limited good will getting here. Anyway, this is a shortcut.’
‘Of course it is.’
They started down the steep path, walking with care, their footsteps sending occasional tinkling cascades of pebbles. It was not overly steep, tending to follow a switchback formation. They paused at a plateau where the trail levelled. The weather had cleared, for once, and the sea shimmered blue under clear skies.
‘I am doing this because these people need justice. If Jason is the wrecker, it might have been him on the beach. He could be alive and you are unnecessarily covering for him by saying you fought and he fell in the sea.’ Millie spoke in her calm, blunt way, arms crossed as she stared seawards.
‘You still think I was wrong last night.’
‘Yes.’ She started walking again. ‘I understand why you want to protect your sister, but, whether you believe me or not, I have faith in the truth.’
He remembered how his mother would say ‘the truth shall set you free’. It was from the Bible, but she also knew it in Greek.
‘My mother said she believed in the truth.’ The words came out with a bitter twist and he wished he could reel them back.
‘She did not live up to those words?’ Millie asked.
‘No.’ They walked for a while in silence. That was the thing he’d noticed about Millie, she did not rush to talk. She did not fear silence. ‘She chose not to tell me that she was dying.’
‘That must have been such a shock.’
‘I was eight. I should have known,’ he said.
‘We do not see things we do not want to see.’
‘I remember wondering how I could not have known. She was wasting away, turning into a ghost. And why did not she
tell me if she believed in “truth” so much? Did I not have the right to know, to say goodbye?’
‘You had the right, but sometimes it is hard to do things, even when we believe in them,’ she said. ‘Knowledge doesn’t always help. My father kept having chest pains. I’d make stupid agreements with myself, like if I was polite or always ate my crusts, he’d get better—’ She stopped.
‘We cannot keep the people we love safe,’ he said.
‘I suppose your mother wanted to keep your childhood safe, to protect you.’
‘It did not help.’
‘She gave you a few extra months of joy.’
This much was true. Those days before her death had been joyful, halcyon times. But that had only made the pain worse.
‘Millie?’
‘Yes?’
He had to ask. ‘Who are you marrying?’
Chapter Eleven
She stiffened, the question taking her by surprise. For a few moments, she’d felt a tentative connection not marred by reality. It had felt like the cabin again. ‘A local gentleman, Mr Edmunds. But it is not official yet.’
‘Edmunds? I know a Mr Edmunds from Cornwall. Must be his father. How did you meet him?’
He’d been sitting in the church pew since she was a child, dragged to church. ‘It is a small town and there is only one Mr Edmunds from Fowey. Geoffrey Edmunds,’ she said.
‘But he is...’ The words petered away. ‘Why?’
‘He would like our land. And wants a mother for his five children.’ She continued to walk down the path.
‘But why would you marry him?’
‘Women do not have many choices,’ Millie said. ‘Lacking patience and sufficient education, I cannot see myself as a suitable governess or companion.’
‘Is it to save your sister from Harwood?’
‘In part, but this will also help me to ensure Mother has a home and secure some funds for Lil’s debut.’
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