Donna Fletcher

by Whispers on the Wind

  Max looked around the room. Towels were tossed about, the tub sat full, food trays littered with remnants of their meal occupied the small table and two empty wine bottles lay next to the tub.

  He laughed and reached down to toss the covers of the bed back. “I’d say Matilda is going to think we had one grand evening for ourselves.”

  He slipped into bed and Billie surveyed the room.

  “Oh my goodness,” she said after realizing the room resembled a recent lovers’ tryst. “I’d better straighten—”

  Billie never got to finish. Max yanked her into bed and captured her beneath him.

  He teased her lips and neck with ardent kisses and Billie was soon lost to her husband’s lovemaking.

  o0o

  Billie hurried along the shops and cottages toward the Cox Crow Inn. The message she had received just a few short hours ago requested her immediate presence at the inn. She had to wait until Max had disguised himself as the vicar and gone off to perform his duties for the day before she could leave. And, of course, Max had to reiterate his instructions from the previous night that she was to behave.

  Since he didn’t completely outline and define behave she felt his instructions left for a wide margin of acceptable behavior—meaning she would do as she wished.

  Billie shivered as a rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. All week the villagers had been talking and whispering and worrying over the approaching storm. Consensus was that a bad one was brewing and would hit in a few days. The talk sent shivers through people and most walked around concerned and mindful.

  Many feared a repeat performance of the All Hallows’ Eve storm and that brought the frights to everyone, with most fearing that Lord Radborne’s ghost would surely walk the village on such a ghastly night.

  Billie herself felt something brewing, something being drawn to a climax and the possible outcome troubled her. She had her husband’s safety to concern herself with and that of Claudia and, most of all, she had the responsibility of seeing Oran’s soul brought to peace, a conclusion that would undoubtedly upset her husband and herself.

  She entered the Cox Crow Inn with a flourish of a summer’s wind and a blast of distant thunder. Bessie and Marlee were the only occupants in the inn and, after shoving the door closed behind her and running her fingers through her windswept hair to make it more presentable, Billie hurried over to join them at the table.

  “We thought you’d never come,” Bessie whispered.

  “I had to wait until John left for the day,” Billie explained and accepted the cup of tea Bessie poured for her.

  Marlee jabbed Bessie in the arm with her elbow. “Told you that was what was keeping her. I knew m’lady would come when urgently summoned.”

  “Of course I would,” Billie insisted. “Especially when you cited that it was a matter of life or death.”

  “That it is,” Bessie agreed with several bobs of her head.

  Marlee was more direct. “Mind you now, m’lady, what we’re about to confide in you isn’t for anyone else’s ears.”

  “I promise,” Billie said sincerely as she settled herself with her hands locked around her teacup and listened.

  Marlee proceeded in her storytelling manner. “You must understand that when there’s a hungry child to feed, a mother doesn’t stop to worry where the coins come from. What matters is that she puts food in her children’s bellies.”

  Billie understood perfectly, recalling the many times her mother had taken in an impoverished woman and child who needed food and shelter and help in surviving the long absence of her seafaring husband.

  Marlee continued. “The women who participate—” Marlee stopped abruptly to clarify “—not Bessie or me, were ordered to participate in a wrecking that’s planned soon, though the date and time aren’t clear.”

  “When will the women be notified of specifics?” Billie asked.

  “Soon, I imagine,” Marlee said and looked at Bessie. Bessie nodded as if urging her to continue. Marlee did, though it appeared to pain her to do so. “This isn’t easy for me to tell you.”

  Billie took advantage of her pause. “You mean about Claudia commanding the wreckers?”

  “You know?” both women said simultaneously.

  Billie nodded, offering a simple explanation while skirting the truth. “I discovered her involvement by chance.”

  “We’re worried for her,” Marlee confided and Bessie confirmed with a worried shake of her head and tear-filled eyes. “Claudia only needed to make enough coins to get by like most of the women. She organized the women to work a wrecking every now and then. And they would always make certain they never hit a ship carrying passengers. They only wrecked for the cargo. The crew was always rescued and so shocked by the fact that it was women who wrecked that they kept hushed about it, too embarrassed to say otherwise.

  “When Derry Jones entered the picture, all that changed. He discovered Claudia’s participation and forced a partnership to help aid in his smuggling activities. She attempted on several occasions to terminate their business dealings. Derry refused to release her.”

  Marlee bit her trembling lip and fought back her tears.

  Billie spoke the words she was certain Marlee felt. “And Claudia became a prisoner of her own making.”

  Marlee nodded. “She needs help.”

  Billie reached out and patted her hand. “I’ll make certain that Claudia gets the help she needs.”

  “Derry’s insisting that Claudia assist him with the wreck that he’s planned. He tells her that he will free her of their partnership after this one, but she doesn’t believe him.”

  “She’s wise in not believing him,” Billie said, recalling Derry’s intention.

  “But who will help?” Bessie asked. “Begging your pardon, m’lady, your husband the vicar is a wonderful man, but he doesn’t possess the strength or skill to face a man like Derry Jones.”

  “Don’t worry,” Billie assured them. “I’ll find someone with the courage and strength to help us.”

  The door opened and the summer’s wind whipped another person into the inn and by Marlee and Bessie’s rounded eyes, Billie knew who had entered.

  “Good day, ladies,” John’s soft voice called out as he walked over to the table.

  Billie tilted her head back and John peered down over her face. “Hello, dear wife.” He pecked her on the cheek and threw his leg over the bench to sit beside her. “Sharing a spot of tea and gossip?”

  “We don’t gossip,” Bessie said with an urgent shake of her head.

  John raised his brow and his tone was that of a scolding vicar. “Is that the truth now, Bessie?”

  Bessie’s face rushed with color. “We’re not gossiping now, it’s facts we’re discussing.”

  Marlee and Billie sent her a look that warned her to hold her racing tongue.

  Bessie winced and bit her lower lip as if trying to keep herself from divulging any further information.

  “And what facts might they be?” John asked, looking from Marlee to his wife, who resembled an innocent young woman garbed in silk violet casualty sipping her tea. He smiled at her picture of purity when beneath, he knew, she sizzled with passion.

  Marlee fumbled for an acceptable explanation when Billie spoke up. “The storm that’s brewing.”

  “Right, the storm,” Bessie agreed hastily. “It’s going to be a bad one.”

  “A bad one,” Marlee echoed. “Much like the one on the night that claimed Lord Radborne’s life.”

  Bessie spoke in a hushed and reverent tone. “Some villagers wonder if his unsettled spirit will return with the height of the storm.”

  “Do you ladies believe such nonsense?” John asked with the seriousness of the vicar.

  Billie joined Marlee and Bessie when they nodded their heads.

  “Lord Radborne’s ghost has been seen, it’s a fact,” Marlee said.

  Bessie kept nodding her head. “That’s right, he has and the whole village believes in him.�
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  “Don’t you, John?” Billie asked sweetly and hooked her arm possessively around his.

  “We’ll see,” John said with a sparkle of devilment in his eye that only his wife recognized as controlled passion.

  Billie looked at the two women and ignored her husband’s hand intimately inching his way up her thigh beneath the table. “Max will visit.”

  Marlee and Bessie’s eyes rounded all the more upon hearing their lord addressed so improperly and her husband’s hand came to an abrupt halt.

  “And why is that?” John asked.

  Billie stared him straight in the eye. “His spirit must face the man who caused his death.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “I forbid it!” Max yelled and smashed his fist down on the desk, emphasizing his command. “You almost sent those two women into apoplexy by calling me Max and insisting that my ghost would return for revenge. I’ll return for revenge all right, but you won’t be involved.”

  Billie stood her ground, her arms crossed over her chest and her toe tapping impatiently on the carpet. “Claudia will not confide in you. She will confide in me and without her valid information, you will not know when the wrecking will take place.”

  Max attempted to hold his temper and to do so he walked straight for the liquor cabinet and poured himself a generous glass of whiskey.

  “Whatever is the problem?” Oran asked materializing through the cold hearth.

  Max shook his head, taking a hefty swallow.

  “My husband,” she emphasized, “will not allow me to participate in the capture of Derry Jones.”

  “As well he shouldn’t,” Oran agreed.

  “Thank you, Father,” Max said in relief, “finally someone who understands the danger in her intentions.”

  “Much too dangerous, Billie,” Oran warned. “This Derry character has no scruples. He kills without remorse and cares only for himself. Leave this to Max.”

  Maximillian looked at his father. “Max?”

  Oran shook his head. “I am so accustomed to hearing Billie call you thus that I forget I always called you Maximillian.”

  Max took another swallow before he asked the one question that had haunted his thoughts day and night. “When this is settled with Derry, you will pass on?”

  Oran nodded. “Immediately.”

  A crack of thunder reverberated in the room. Billie jumped, startled by the blast, but Max and his father remained staring at one another.

  “Will we have time to say good-bye?” Max asked.

  Oran responded with sorrow. “I fear not.”

  “Then we must see to that now,” Max said and Oran nodded.

  Billie quietly slipped out of the room, slowly closing the door behind her, allowing father and son to share their last good-bye alone. She turned to hurry to the kitchen and bumped into Pembrooke.

  “Max doesn’t wish to be disturbed,” she told him, realizing he was headed for the study.

  Pembrooke winced. “His lordship may need my—”

  Billie interrupted, grabbing his arm and directing him along with her toward the kitchen. “Max is presently attending to a private matter and insisted he doesn’t wish to be disturbed and I insist his wishes be obeyed.”

  Matilda looked up from putting a fire beneath the kettle as Billie and Pembrooke entered the kitchen, arms locked.

  She smiled at her frowning husband. “Remember what our lordship advised us.”

  Billie almost giggled at Matilda’s reminder. After Billie had learned of his dual identity, Max had instructed the couple that the lady of the manor was a trifle different and that they should attempt to understand her unusual ways and help her to understand her duties.

  Billie released Pembrooke’s arm and ordered sternly, though with a smile, “I need the carriage brought around.”

  “My lordship has ordered that m’lady is not to go anywhere without his permission,” Pembrooke informed her smugly.

  “When did he do that?” Billie asked.

  “Upon your return from the village this afternoon.”

  Matilda attempted to comfort. “The storm has worsened, m’lady. You wouldn’t want to be out there on such a ghastly night.”

  Billie felt a chill run down her spine. Tonight, the wrecking was planned for tonight. She knew it, she could feel it.

  She almost flew out of the kitchen and upstairs. She raced through her wardrobe, finding her oldest, most worn cotton dress and black high boots. She changed quickly. Grabbing her black cloak and throwing it around her, she rushed down the steps.

  The front door closed behind her with a soft click, but Pembrooke saw and heard and looked with concern at the closed study door.

  It took Billie longer than usual to walk to Claudia’s. It was the wind that made her walk difficult. It blew at her with strength and determination, as if attempting to prevent her from reaching her destination. The heavy rain started when she was but a few feet from Claudia’s front door and by the time she knocked, pellets of rain pounded the earth furiously.

  The storm exploded like an unleashed temper, pounding angry rain against ground and buildings. Wind violently whipped across the land, lightning speared the night sky and thunder beat such a wild cadence that it made her cover her ears in fright.

  “Good Lord, child, whatever are you doing out on such a horrid night?” Claudia said, rushing Billie into the house.

  Billie threw the hood of her cloak back. “I’ve come to help you stop Derry.”

  Claudia paled and staggered back to drop down on the plain wooden bench in the foyer. “However did you find out?”

  “That isn’t important at the moment. What is important is that the wrecking is tonight, isn’t it?”

  Claudia nodded. “The ship’s departure time was moved, hoping it would be out to sea before the storm hit.”

  Billie rushed to Claudia’s side, going down on bent knees beside the older woman and grabbing her hand in support.

  “I never wanted this,” Claudia pleaded. “Never. I hurt the very people I loved the most and Lord, how I loved Oran. I was so wrong. So weak.” She shook her head, her round eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and tears. “And tonight it ends. I have caused too much pain and sorrow for everyone. No more—it is time for me to take responsibility for my mistakes.”

  “What do you mean?” A shiver ran through Billie.

  It was Claudia’s turn to comfort. “It’s time, dear, this must end.”

  “The ship—”

  “Left port yesterday and is out to sea. There will be no wrecking.”

  “Derry will kill you when he discovers you betrayed him,” she said, her knees going weak and her stomach tumbling.

  The rapid knock on the door startled them both. Billie rushed to see who was there. The harsh wind blew in Marlee and Bessie.

  Both women looked fearful. They ignored Billie, and Marlee directed her frantic news to Claudia.

  “The women are hiding in their homes as you ordered and they’re frightened to death.”

  Claudia stood, reaching for her dark green cloak on the brass hook near the door. “They’ll be safe there.”

  “What are you doing?” Bessie asked anxiously. “You don’t mean to be going out on a night like this and with that man waiting for you?”

  “I must take care of matters once and for all,” Claudia said firmly.

  Marlee blocked the front door, her arms spread wide. “I won’t let you go out there.”

  Billie spoke before anyone else could. “We need to return to the manor, Ma—” She caught her mistake and amended it to, “John will know what to do.”

  All three women looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

  “Trust me.” Billie insisted. “John will take care of everything.”

  Marlee partially agreed. “The manor is a safer place to be than here.”

  “But the storm,” Bessie argued.

  Billie smiled. “I know another way.”

  o0o

 
In minutes and wet, though not soaked, the three women made their way down the steps of the secret passageway in the vicarage. They followed Billie through the room where Max changed into John and John changed into Max.

  The women looked about oddly and before any of them could ask, Billie said, “I’ll explain later.”

  Billie kept the lantern high above her head, lighting the way for them to see their path clearly. She had grown accustomed to the cave’s passageways, but recalled how intimidated she felt when she had first descended down into them.

  “It gives you the shivers,” Bessie said and felt the tingles run over her.

  “A perfect place for ghosts to haunt.” Marlee sounded as if she was about to recount a tale.

  “We’ll be hearing none of your tales, Marlee,” Bessie warned her.

  “I agree,” Claudia chirped. “This is not a place to discuss hauntings.”

  “It’s not a place to be talking,” Billie said softly. “Sound carries and we don’t want anyone to know we’re down here.”

  “Good advice,” came the sharp, male voice.

  The four women froze in the narrow passageway.

  “Keep walking this way, ladies,” the voice ordered.

  “Derry,” Claudia said firmly, “I’ll not have you hurt these women.”

  “As long as they do their job tonight no one will get hurt,” he returned.

  “Good Lord,” Bessie whispered. “He thinks we’re here to help with the wrecking.”

  “Come on, we don’t have all night,” he shouted.

  Claudia stood directly behind Billie. She grabbed at her arm and whispered. “Whatever are we to do?”

  “Keep Derry talking,” she murmured to Claudia, “while I talk to Bessie.”

  Claudia called out to Derry. “There’s no need to rush.”

  His warning response brought another retort from Claudia and they continued to exchange shouts while Billie, after handing the lantern to Claudia, made her way back to Bessie.

  “I’m assuming he doesn’t know how many women are here, therefore, you are going to go for help.” Billie told her in a hushed voice.