It was my turn to sigh. I didn’t like my business generally known.
“I don’t think it’s them, sir,” Carier put in. “They have shown no signs of attacking anyone.” Mr. Smith gave him a sharp look. “None of the surviving employees have noticed any…unusual activity in our direction.”
“And the fire would suggest that they have more worries than persecuting Rose,” Richard added. “But I wouldn’t discount them. Who else?”
“I came today to discuss the trouble at Hyvern,” John Smith said then. “The fire was set.”
We all stared at him. He took his time before he spoke again. “There’s no doubt. The kitchens lay in the wing of the house that caught fire last, and that in itself is unusual. I think the fire was started in the library on the ground floor, as I found books in the rubble which had been torn up, as if to use to feed the fire. The Excisemen and I found the remains of a great heap of books, enough to convince us that they were removed from the shelves and torched. There are not always servants in a library, an easy place to start a fire.”
“I’m impressed with such thorough research,” said Richard.
“The Excisemen suspected foul play. The house is so close to the sea, they thought smugglers might be involved.”
Richard agreed. “I thought as much myself. When the only inhabitant of the house is an old man, living as a recluse, that’s one thing, but when a young, vigorous couple move in and threaten to bring their visitors there…” He shrugged.
“Exactly, my lord,” said the Bow Street man. “I came to ask you if you still had any connections with the Cawntons.” He named the local smuggling gang, the one that had the district in a stranglehold.
“I can find them if I want to,” Richard admitted. “And I fully intend to. If they have anything to do with these attacks on Rose, I will warn them off. And if they have nothing to do with it, they can help us investigate. Otherwise I’ll make their lives miserable.”
I stared up at him, wide-eyed, surprised he hadn’t mentioned this before. He didn’t look at me, but at Smith. “The Cawntons have ruled the coast hereabouts these ten years past. Although I find their activities are regrettable, it is beyond the capacity of either you or me to prevent them. That will take someone like my brother here, in his new capacity as Member of Parliament.” He glanced at Gervase and then back to Smith. “But since the last unpleasantness, violence hereabouts has lessened.”
John Smith frowned, making him look a little like a cross baby, but that round face hid one of the keenest minds I knew. “It is true. We have had other, more urgent constraints on our time. But now the level of violent incidents in and around the Exeter area seems to be on the increase. The smuggling industry is—alas—as profitable as always, so it’s not a case of falling out amongst thieves. The organisation runs as smoothly as ever.” He sighed. “All my enquiries have hit a brick wall, so I came to see you today, my lord, in the hope that you had information.”
“Do you think the attacks on my wife have anything to do with this?” Richard asked crisply, the elegant, languid man of fashion entirely gone now.
John Smith looked at him in silence. “Yes. I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Why? Why would they want her?”
“To cripple you,” said John Smith. He’d forgotten the courtesies of society by now. He was talking to Richard as an equal, something Richard tacitly acknowledged by not reminding him of their relative positions in life. “They know what you have, and what you can do. They may have wished to send a warning to you, which is why they didn’t harm Lady Strang. They must know if they harmed her you would go after them and probably bring them down.”
“That I would,” said Richard plainly. He made up his mind, his gaze snapping up to meet the Runner’s. “I’ll see the Cawntons and I’ll find out what they know. They have forced this on me. Do they know you?”
“No sir, I’ve been very discreet. You are the only people who know who I am and why I’m here. The people at the inn think I’m a land agent looking for contracts in the area.”
Richard smiled slowly. “Very clever. Do you wish to meet them with me?”
“No, my lord, but I’d appreciate a full report. I’d prefer to keep a low profile in this matter.”
“I wondered why you left off the red waistcoat.” Today Mr. Smith’s waistcoat was a dull brown, not the blazing scarlet which Mr. Fielding’s men wore as a sign of office. Mr. Smith’s jolly face cracked in a brief smile of acknowledgement. He would make a child a fine grandfather.
“And we get the enviable task of caring for Lady Rose,” Freddy said, smiling at me in the way that could break a maiden’s heart. But not mine.
“After me,” Richard reminded him. “Get your own wife.”
It broke the tension and everybody laughed. Freddy had strenuously avoided matrimony for years.
“But I want to be involved,” I reminded them. “I’m sure I’ll be much less worried if I know what’s going on.”
“Naturally,” Richard said. I was a proprietor of Thompson’s and I could claim that as my right. I wouldn’t play the part of a passive bystander, waiting to be told. Richard summed up what had gone before. “First we must discover who is doing this, and then we will prevent it.” Then he addressed Mr. Smith. “And in the confines of this room, I tell you that there are no constraints on what I will do to protect my wife. Nothing.”
I shivered, despite the warm fire glowing in the grate.
The others left after agreeing to keep this matter between ourselves, although Gervase said he would tell Ian. I had no objection to that. Ian was my brother, and we were quietly close. I didn’t want James told unless we had to, because I didn’t want to add to his concerns or to make him complicit in something his righteous soul couldn’t agree with. He would probably insist the law was adhered to, and we didn’t always take that route.
I stood up and went into Richard’s arms. We held each other for a minute or two before he broke the fraught silence. “I’m sorry, but you can see why I want this, can’t you?”
“I may prefer my privacy and freedom, but I’m not irredeemably foolish.” I drew back to look at his face. “But I don’t think they mean to hurt me—whoever they are.”
He looked at me unsmilingly. “Not for the time being, but I won’t take the risk. If anything happens, shoot or run—we’ll clear up any mess later.” He lifted his hand and pushed a stray curl away from my face. “No one is ever going to take you away from me again. That’s why I don’t think it’s the Cawntons. They know what I can do, and they know I will do it. Moreover, I’ll kill the leaders if they touch you again. They know that too.”
“You think they care?”
He smiled then. “Yes, I think they do. They’re businessmen, not casual thugs. They only use violence when bribery doesn’t work. It’s why they’ve been so successful. I had a long conversation with both Cawnton brothers a couple of years ago, if you remember, and I got the measure of them then.”
“But you’ll meet with them anyway. Can I be there?”
“Do you want to be?”
“If I won’t get in the way.”
He thought. “If you don’t mind, it might be better if I saw them on my own. I don’t want you upset by seeing them again, and they may talk more freely if you’re not there.”
I didn’t like the first reason, but the second made sense. “Very well. But you will tell me?”
“Every word.” He kissed me and held me close. “If I know Carier he is writing to Alicia in London now. He’ll find out as much as he can. I know Devonshire is at the back of beyond, but we should hear sometime next week.”
“I’m glad we’re not running away,” I told him.
“I’ve found it’s better to resolve things quickly. In the general run of things, that is.”
I smiled and gave him a kiss before he released me. “And if I don’t start to dress for dinner, I shall never do your magnificence justice,” I said as I went over to t
he dressing table.
He smiled properly now and moved to the dressing room, to go to his own room, blowing me a kiss before he left.
Chapter Nine
Tom’s wedding, held in the village, was everything I had once wanted for myself, instead of the grand society occasion I ended up with. And it was good to see the good friend of my childhood, old Mrs. Hoarty, looking so well. Afterwards, we repaired to Tom’s family home.
Peacocks in its wedding finery made a grand sight. My wedding breakfast was held here, the manor deemed too small. Peacocks had a great timber hall that had been there forever, or so I’d always thought. The great beams which held up the roof looked as if they would continue to hold it up until the end of time.
October produced its fair share of flowers, but as well as the late roses, Lady Skerrit must have emptied her hothouses to provide such lovely decorations. She’d done the same for my wedding, but this was Tom’s day, not mine.
I embraced Tom and Barbara, and Richard favoured them with one of his finest bows, all flourish and precise movement. He balanced the precision with polished elegance, and it had a pleasing effect. Barbara smiled and curtseyed in return, evidently delighted by my husband’s obeisance.
Richard smiled. “Come, that’s better. I haven’t seen you smile properly all morning.”
Barbara made a small moue. “I think I have a cold. I have had the headache for days now, and I got the sweats last night.”
“It will go away now.” It sounded more like nervousness to me. “The worst is over, and you’ll have time to yourselves.”
At the wedding breakfast, Freddy and Richard, my bodyguards for the day, enjoyed themselves hugely, charming the two older ladies sitting either side of them. They judged their performance to a nicety, both determined to conquer. I’d seen them put on this act everywhere from Venice to London, and I’d never seen it fail. They both loved to flirt, and I loved to watch.
Richard was in a sunny mood, ready to charm, even when the Terrys came to sit at our table. Lady Skerrit had declared today a country seating day, where everyone could sit where they wished, apart from the top table, which we narrowly avoided but James and Martha didn’t.
He complimented Miss Terry on her gown. “A striking colour, ma’am.” Striking described it well, a vivid pink that would be useful on a ship in a storm. It would increase visibility, that was for sure. Eustacia smiled and lowered her eyelids, and I shot Richard a warning glance. He met my gaze without a qualm.
I flicked my fan open with a satisfying click and covered my smile. I saw the gleam in Richard’s eye when he saw I’d got his point, and I looked away.
“You could set a fashion, Miss Terry,” Freddy said to her, following Richard’s opening. “You would turn heads at the opera.”
Eustacia dropped her eyelids again with a faint “Sir.”
“I told her it became her,” said her mother. “Such arbiters of fashion can’t be wrong, my love. Just see how charming Lady Strang looks today. Her husband surely advises her on her costume.”
“No indeed.” Richard raised an eyebrow. “My wife’s taste needs no aid. She has never shown any lapse of taste that I can recall, never been anything but supremely elegant.”
It was my turn to raise an eyebrow, but he met my gaze blandly. I moved my arm, heard the expensive rustle of the taffeta gown I wore, and smiled instead. I could think of some lapses, and it was a measure of his regard for me that he forbore to mention them, even in private.
Ruth sat at another table next to Sir John Kneller. I was interested in the way she leaned ever so slightly towards him, in the way she shared laughter with him. She was growing very interested in him and he was certainly becoming particular in his intentions. If he was everything he said, the match would be an acceptable one, if not a brilliant one, and I was sure Ruth’s happiness was worth much more than building our family power base. I wasn’t the only person who noticed Ruth’s partiality for sir John. I caught Martha looking their way more than once, and at one point our gazes met and we nodded to each other, acknowledging the mutual interest.
When I moved my head, the jewels in my ears and set in my hair caught the light. When I breathed, the diamond brooches set in the centre of the line of bows that covered my stomacher glittered. When I moved my arms, the triple ruffle of lace on my sleeves disposed itself into new and elegant patterns. All this helped to bolster my self-esteem, gave me something to dwell behind, added to my confidence, all lacking before my marriage. Although I’d not usually enjoyed balls before, I looked forward to the dancing that would come when the tables were cleared after the wedding breakfast. I promised Tom I’d dance at his wedding, and I had every intention of doing so.
Toasts were proposed and drunk, and in memory of our customary private toast, Richard raised his glass to me once. He had done this since we met, toasted my eyes, and I loved it. I smiled back at him. I wondered how I could be so at ease in the presence of such magnificence, but then I remembered that morning, and how. Him without ornament or affectation, the man under the fine clothes, the impeccable, elegant manner. The great emerald on his finger winked as he lifted his glass to me.
During the third course, Richard peeled an apple for me, fragrant and fresh from the orchards at Peacocks. I watched his long fingers effortlessly dissect the fruit as he conversed with his neighbour, and I felt a contentment that was still, after eighteen months of marriage, new to me.
Barbara put her hand to her head, and Tom leaned towards her with concern. He stood and offered her the support of his arm. I looked at Richard. He’d seen it too. They left the room quietly, without fuss. I wasn’t sure I liked that development, but perhaps the day had been too tiring for Barbara, or perhaps she didn’t want to risk the traditional bedding ceremony, which, while out of fashion, was laughingly adhered to by many people.
I ate my apple and then lifted a finger for the footman to refill my glass. I was surprised when a note on a salver was passed to me.
I read the note and passed it to Richard. It had been written in some haste. Rose, would you please come and look at Barbara? And if your husband’s man, Carier, is about, can he come too? Yours, Tom.
“Perhaps it’s nothing. But I should go, to make sure.”
Richard nodded and took my hand, kissing it lightly before I stood up. “Don’t be long,” he said softly, and I smiled and assured him I wouldn’t be. Carier took over guard duties now. Although it wasn’t obvious, one of the self-appointed guardians never let me out of their sight.
I followed the footman out of the hall and up a set of stairs. The old Great Hall of the house led to the kitchens at one end and the private rooms at the other. The stairs were set in a smaller, lesser hall. It was quiet here, although the stair rails bore garlands of flowers. Our footsteps echoed on the bare wood.
I remembered Tom’s bedroom from my childhood, when I was allowed up there sometimes, but I hadn’t seen it for a long time now. It still smelled of herbs and old oak, and the same drapes were drawn back from the bed.
Tom looked up from his place on the bed as we came in. Carier bade me stay at the door and went over to the bed, glancing at Barbara. Then he came straight back to me, blocking my entrance. “My lady, have you had the smallpox?”
My heart chilled. Smallpox, my God, no. “Yes, my father and stepmother died of it. I caught it then, but mildly. Has Richard had it?”
He looked worried. “I don’t know, my lady, but I came to him when he was eighteen. He could have had it before.”
“I’ll write him a note. Are you sure?”
“No, my lady, and I pray I’m wrong. But the symptoms are there and I didn’t want you exposed until I knew for sure.”
I crossed the room to the table at the window where Tom kept notepaper and pens. No time for refined writing now. I shook back my ruffles and scribbled a brief note.
Barbara may have smallpox. My love, if you haven’t had it, please go back to Hareton now. Take Helen and go back to Oxfordshire.
You are not to worry. I have had it and I won’t come to any harm. I love you. I’ll write soon with news.
I folded the note and handed it to the footman. “Give that to my husband immediately, please.” I groped in my pocket for my purse and handed him a hefty tip. “And tell no one anything. This might not be what we think. It could be anything.”
The man bowed and left. I went over to the bed and forced myself to smile at Tom. “It could easily be something trivial. What’s wrong, Barbara?”
Barbara stared up at me dumbly. She looked so pretty in her wedding gown, the pearls adding a soft glow to her pale skin. “I have a headache and I keep going hot and cold.”
“That could easily be the stresses of the day. I sometimes get a headache when things are hectic. Don’t worry.” I saw Carier on the other side, carefully examining her. I knew what he was looking for. “Can I help you with your jewellery? It’s very pretty, but it can’t feel comfortable when you’re lying down.”
Barbara wore large, girandole earrings, the pendants hanging askew now, towards the pillow. As I leant over her, she reached for her new husband and smiled when he took her hand.
“Listen to Rose. She knows about illnesses and injuries,” Tom said to her.
I gently unhooked the earrings and loosened the ribbons that held the heavy pendants securely on the earlobes. Then I took the ornaments out of her hair, reached round to the back of her neck and undid her necklace. I only took off her jewellery because it gave me an opportunity to study her face, the place the marks usually appeared first.
My heart sank. “Carier,” I murmured. I moved aside so he could see the now-frightened girl. I glanced at Tom and he met my gaze, Barbara’s fear reflected in his eyes.
Carier straightened up. “There’s no doubt, my lady.”
We saw the marks in her eyes, and one on her cheek. These would proliferate, spread over her body, then they would scab over and drop off. Sometimes the sufferer was lucky, as Lizzie and I were, and the marks would only be superficial. Sometimes the victim was marked so badly they were forced to use cosmetics so people didn’t stare. It could blind. It could kill.
Hareton Hall: Richard and Rose, Book 6 Page 9