“Oh, Jacob, of course I shall say nothing to the master, not about anything you tell me, so you needn’t trouble your head about that. Tell me more about Mr. Petticrow. Does he not have dragoons he can call upon to help him watch his bit of coast?”
“Only if he knows certain sure that there’s a run on, and we take precious care that he don’t.”
“Here, lad,” said Wittersham, coming quickly up to them, his weathered face set in stern lines. “What be ye about, jawin’ at ’er ladyship when ye oughta be a-helpin’ ’er into the carriage? I’m right sorry if he’s discommoded ye, m’lady.”
Jacob reddened to his ears, but Adriana smiled at the middle-aged coachman and said, “Pray do not scold him, Wittersham. I asked him to speak to me, for I wish to know something about the Gentlemen hereabouts. Perhaps you can tell me more about their activities than Jacob has been able to. I daresay a man of your vast experience could tell a great deal.”
The coachman grimaced. “It ain’t fer me to be tellin’ yer la’ship what ye ought and oughtn’t to talk about, but ye’d do well to keep mum on that subject, ma’am, and that’s the truth of the matter, that is. Lady Henrietta be on the stoop wi’ some o’ her ladies. She’ll be right along now, so best ye be lettin’ Jacob help ye inside.”
“Very well, Wittersham.” Disappointed, Adriana turned again to the young footman, awarding him a friendly smile. “You may give me your hand, Jacob.” Inside the carriage, she noted that the coachman followed Jacob around behind, and she soon heard Wittersham’s gruff voice, pitched too low for her to make out his words, but carrying unmistakable censure in his tone.
Adriana was sorry that the young footman had been scolded for talking to her, but in the week that followed, as she went about her activities, she found herself watching the castle servants with an eagle eye, trying to determine which ones among them were involved with the Gentlemen and which were not. It was something to break the tedium, although if she had been pressed to tell the truth, her days were full enough that there was little of that.
She went out again with Lady Henrietta to other villages; she went riding each morning with Joshua or with her groom; she appealed to Lady Adelaide to begin teaching her her duties; and she entertained afternoon callers from among the local gentry. The most frequent of these were Lord Braverstoke and his son. They paid their first call two days after the last of the houseguests had departed, and Randall Braverstoke promptly reissued his invitation to take her aboard the Golden Fleece.
The outing was arranged for the following day, so on Sunday, after services in the parish church just outside the castle walls, entered from the quadrangle through a fascinating stone tunnel that opened into the family’s private chapel, Adriana and Chalford found themselves aboard the Golden Fleece heading out into the Channel, while their host jauntily displayed his yacht’s amenities. His intention, rather amusingly clear, was to impress Chalford with the superiority of his sloop over all other sloops harbored on the south coast. Chalford responded politely.
Adriana responded cordially, even at times with enthusiasm, but privately she believed that the Sea Dragon, though smaller, was indeed the prettier and more graceful of the two, and was kept, sprats notwithstanding, in much better trim. She detected dry wood in several places on Braverstoke’s yacht, and although the brasses and the ostentatious gilded medallions that decked the bulwarks at evenly spaced intervals had been polished, the task had clearly been performed in haste. She enjoyed the expedition, but she made no attempt to beguile Mr. Braverstoke into repeating the invitation.
She enjoyed her outings with Chalford, too, and her time with Lady Henrietta, for whom she was rapidly developing a firm affection; however, she could not say that her sessions with Lady Adelaide were altogether successful.
“It is not that she does not wish to instruct me,” she confided to Lady Henrietta on Monday morning as they walked together toward Burmarsh, her ladyship having determined to visit Mary Flack in order to decipher the list she had previously been given. “She is very kind, but I cannot help but feel that she believes I should do much better to leave everything to her. And the woeful truth of it is,” she confessed with a rueful grin, “that I should like that very well.”
“She does not mean to give that impression,” Lady Hetta said, turning to smile at her and tugging her hat lower over her forehead in order to protect her eyes from the glare of the sun. “Indeed, she is pleased to have you here, my dear, as are we all. Perhaps she only thinks it better for you to do as you please for a time until you are quite settled in.”
“Well, she didn’t wish me to come with you today. She said it was not becoming to my station.”
“Only because we chose to walk,” said Lady Hetta. “She scolded me for inviting you, but really it is too bad to take a carriage round and about, when the path across the marsh is but two miles or so. And after last night’s rain, the road is in a dreadful state. The carriage would be a sight when we returned.”
“We won’t look so well ourselves,” Adriana pointed out, laughing. “I don’t know whose boots these are that Nancy unearthed for me, but they are certainly better for walking along this muddy path than any shoes of mine would be.”
“They are Chalford’s. Oh, yes,” she said when Adriana’s eyes widened in disbelief. “He was only a boy when he wore them, of course, but I daresay nothing has ever been thrown away here. Your Nancy appealed to my woman, you see, so I know. That hooded woolen cloak she found for you is an old one of Adelaide’s.”
They walked along in companionable silence for some moments after that, enjoying the calls of the birds in nearby hedges and trees. The path twisting across the marsh was one of those convoluted routes described to her by Chalford, and Adriana was having a fine time imagining a line of men and horses laden with brandy kegs in the dead of night, creeping along this very way, silent, ears cocked for the slightest sound in the distance that might herald the approach of riding officer or dragoon. The wind would be moaning through the willows nearby, shaking the leaves on the great hornbeam under which they were passing, moaning …
“Good gracious, what’s that?” she exclaimed as the sound penetrated at last, wrenching her from her reverie.
Lady Hetta, aroused from a brown study of her own, looked about, blinking. When the sound came again, she pointed. “Over there, beyond that hedge.”
But Adriana had already turned from the path. The ground away from the hard-packed trail, thanks to the previous night’s deluge, was boggy beneath her feet, but it was not so much so that it hindered her progress as she pushed through the hedge to discover a man, bound and gagged and tangled in the lower branches of the large bush under which he had been shoved.
“Mr. Petticrow!” exclaimed Lady Hetta, jerking her full skirts free of the hedge and rushing to kneel at his side, unconscious of the damage to her clothing. “Dear me, sir, how come you to be in such a dreadful fix?”
“Perhaps if you were to loosen his gag,” Adriana suggested, adding when this had been accomplished, “Dear sir, I hope you may not have caught your death.” She added her efforts to those of Lady Henrietta, and when the poor gentleman was free of his bindings, they assisted him to his feet.
“Thank you both very kindly,” said Mr. Petticrow, who could now be seen to be a man of medium height and somewhat portly stature with light-blue eyes and ruddy cheeks. He began to move his arms and legs carefully, then to stamp his feet. “Stiff as a stick, and not to be wondered at,” he said.
“Have you been there all night, Mr. Petticrow?” asked Lady Henrietta. “Are you not very wet?”
“A trifle dampish, thank you, your ladyship, but it didn’t come on to rain until after I was stowed, and the bush protected me from the worst of it, I believe. Not that those damned scoundrels—I do beg your pardon, I’m sure, but I find I am a trifle out of temper in consequence of this affront. They’d no intention of providing me shelter by shoving me under there. Meant me to perish unnoticed, that’s what they
meant by it.”
“Oh, surely not,” protested Adriana. “Who would do such a dreadful thing?”
“Those dam—dashed smugglers, that’s who, ma’am. Don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” he added with a quaint, though stiff, little bow. “Jeremiah Petticrow at your service.”
“This is Lady Chalford, Mr. Petticrow,” said Lady Hetta.
“Ah, the new marchioness. Then ’tis a double pleasure, ma’am. Not that I’d say the same of every member of every noble family hereabouts, but your husband is a fine gentleman and it is proud I am to meet his lady. There are those who make it a point to flout the law and those who don’t.”
“Mr. Petticrow,” put in Lady Henrietta, “surely you ought to take off your coat and let your shirt dry in the sun, for you are shivering, and I am persuaded that you will take a chill.”
“Bless you, ma’am, I’m not the sort of man to take his jacket off with ladies present. And it takes more than a night’s damping to do in Petticrow, as the lads will see soon enough.”
“I’m certain no one intended to murder you,” Adriana said, giving him a searching look. He was not what she had expected a riding officer to be. There were moments when he spoke like an educated man. Deciding he was merely taking pains to impress them, she added firmly, “You were quite near the path, after all, and I have been told that the smugglers only attempt to make certain you are not nearby when there is a run on.”
“Being near to a path that generally no one travels other than the lads themselves hardly shows intent for me to be found, m’lady, and as for keeping me out of the way, I am persuaded it was more than that. This lot was rough-spoken, talked murderous talk, and the odd thing was that I recognized not a single voice among them. I’ve been led down a daisy path before, more’s my shame, but this was different, I tell you.”
He could not be shaken from his belief, and both ladies soon ceased to try, putting their efforts instead into persuading him to accompany them into Burmarsh, where he could be sure of finding a cottager willing to feed him and dry his clothes. By the time they reached the village, he swore he was as dry as could be and accepted no more than a cup of hot tea and a bun from Mary Flack before taking himself off.
Their business did not take long, and the two ladies were soon on the path again, making their way back to Thunderhill. Adriana chuckled. “That poor man. It must have ruffled his dignity severely to be found in such a position by the likes of us. No wonder he insisted the men had tried to murder him.”
Lady Henrietta clicked her tongue. “You know, my dear, I am sure it is just as you say and the poor man was making more of it than it deserved, but Mary Flack was telling me—whilst you were talking with Mr. Petticrow, you know—that there was trouble last night. She doesn’t know the whole of it, but goods were taken and there are rumors of a rival gang attempting to make trouble for the local lads. I do hope ’tis only rumor and nothing more.”
“It sounds exciting,” said Adriana.
“Oh, my dear, not exciting at all. Why, I can remember my papa telling us about the dreadful Hawkhurst gang. They terrorized people all over Kent and Sussex fifty years ago, and whenever anyone got in their way, they murdered them. I don’t know what we should do if that ever happened again.”
“Well, I am persuaded you needn’t fret, ma’am. Surely in this day and age such violence would be scotched at the outset.”
So sure was she of what she said that it came as a shock to her a day or so later to learn that more rumors had spread that a gang of smugglers operating out of Sandgate, some miles to the north, was extending its scope of activity. These men were said to be under the control of a master smuggler who advocated violence to force other gangs to bend the knee to his own.
One morning shortly after Adriana heard these rumors, when the family had gathered to break their fast, Jacob burst into the breakfast parlor without ceremony and blurted, “Please, m’lord, they’ve found Mr. Petticrow staked out on the beach below the castle. He’s in a fearful state, sir, and Mr. Wittersham said I was to ask yer permission to bring ’im up.”
“Good gracious,” said Lady Adelaide with a frown, “I suppose the Gentlemen have been up to their tricks again. ’Tis a pity they will treat the poor riding officer so, but I fail to see how it’s any concern of ours, Chalford.”
The marquess looked at Jacob. “Was it a prank?”
“No, m’lord,” Jacob was pale. “’E was staked out below the tideline, sir, and when the lads found ’im, the water was near to ’is chin. They’d gagged ’im. He couldn’t even shout.”
“Tell them to do whatever is necessary for him,” Chalford ordered crisply.
9
ONCE MR. PETTICROW HAD been tucked up in a bedchamber, the doctor commanding him to stay there until they could be sure he would not fall victim to an inflammation of the lungs, Chalford ordered his family into the great hall and issued an edict.
“Matters seem to have reached such a pass that I have no choice,” he said calmly, “but to ask you all to avoid going alone beyond the castle walls until this business has been settled.”
“Very sensible,” said Lady Adelaide. “If this keeps up, free trading will go quite out of fashion. One already hears complaints that English gold is going into Bonaparte’s pockets in exchange for wines and other smuggled goods, and that French prisoners are foolishly being ferried back to France. Of course, ours get home the same way, and it is patently absurd to pay ten guineas the pound for tea when it may be had for shillings instead, or to go without silks merely because the government is so foolish as to impose unreasonable duty. Violence, however, cannot be tolerated. Do you hear, Hetta, you are not to go out.”
“But that’s ridiculous,” Adriana protested. “Oh, not what you said, ma’am,” she added hastily when Lady Adelaide bristled, “but, Joshua, you cannot expect us to remain prisoners here.”
“That was not my intention,” he said. “You may certainly go out whenever you wish, but I can no longer permit you to walk unescorted into the villages or even to drive about the countryside without proper protection. I know it will make for inconvenience, but I trust you will all obey me in this matter. I do not wish to have to worry about your safety.”
Lady Hetta nodded briskly. “I shall tell Wittersham to carry a blunderbuss, then, shall I, my dear?”
“More than that, Aunt Hetta. I want armed outriders—at least two of them—whenever you travel beyond these walls.” He turned to Adriana. “And you, sweetheart, are not to ride alone, as I know you have done when I have been unable to accompany you. Your groom is no longer sufficient protection. If you wish to ride, you have only to tell me so and I will accompany you.”
“Joshua, this is foolish. The smugglers have no quarrel with Thunderhill. Surely they will not molest us.”
“The local men are friendly enough, but we have no reason to trust outsiders. You will do as I bid.”
Adriana fumed, but she could not with any propriety debate the matter further then and there, so she held her tongue. But when Lord Braverstoke and his son paid a call that afternoon, she took the opportunity afforded by Lady Henrietta’s engaging his lordship in conversation to express her feelings to his son. The results were not encouraging.
“I must agree with Chalford,” Randall Braverstoke told her apologetically. “One cannot be too cautious. This new gang will do whatever is necessary to collect their goods.”
“Not in broad daylight, surely.”
“I know little about such things, of course, but they tell me these ruffians have attempted to intimidate the locals into joining them or at least doing nothing to hinder them. That sort of thing can be done by daylight as well as by dark, I suppose. Must hand it to the fellow behind this. He knows his business.”
Lady Adelaide, having entered the great hall in time to overhear this last statement, declared, “One does not offer praise to a proponent of violence, young man.”
“No, no,” said Lord Braverstoke hastily. “T
he lad didn’t mean such a thing. Tell her, Randall.”
“Certainly, sir.” He smiled at Lady Adelaide. “I was speaking objectively, ma’am. Surely the larger the operation, the greater the profit for all concerned.”
“Indeed,” retorted her ladyship, “so it is all of a piece, is it, when crime is committed for mere money?”
“Easy for her to say,” Braverstoke said quietly to Adriana while his father took punctilious leave of the aunts. “Only let her try to convince a man without it that money is ‘mere.’”
Adriana smiled, but since she was out of charity with him for failing to support her against Chalford, she said nothing to lead him to believe she agreed with him. Nor did she intend to stop trying to convince her husband that he was being grossly overprotective. That evening, however, when they were alone, her attempts to beguile him into changing his mind, particularly with regard to her riding, proved singularly unsuccessful.
“Your safety is a matter of primary importance to me,” he said, kissing her. “I know what can happen; you do not.”
“Then tell me, sir, for I cannot think how I might be in the least danger. This quarrel is not of our making.”
“It does not matter whether the quarrel is ours,” he said patiently. “The danger is real. Now, come to bed, sweetheart. We’ve better things to do than to bicker over smugglers.”
She obeyed reluctantly, annoyed as always by his casual assumption that he had only to make a decision and she would obey, but as usual, it was not long before he had caused her to forget her discontent. The next morning her frustrations were back in full force, however, for it was a magnificent day, perfect for riding, but when she told Chalford that she would like to have her mare saddled, he shook his head regretfully.
Amanda Scott Page 13