Hareton Hall: Richard and Rose, Book 6

by Lynne Connolly

  Richard glanced at me. “It seems unfair, my love, but do you think you might see to his hand? I don’t want him fainting from loss of blood.”

  I nodded and fetched the pile of clean napkins that still lay on the sideboard, careful not to cross Richard’s line of vision between him and his son. The other man still held Steven, as though paralysed, unsure what to do. Richard glanced at him. “Let him go.”

  It said a lot for John’s power of leadership that the man looked at him for guidance. John nodded. “Let him go. It’s over.” He met Richard’s gaze. “For now.”

  Richard watched as I roughly mopped up the blood from the wound and bound John’s hand tightly. “Make a fist,” I told him. He clenched his fist and, with barely a grimace, relaxed it again. “It’ll heal. Nothing important is damaged.”

  I moved away. Richard regarded his son. “It was the only way to stop you. You wouldn’t have listened to any persuasion. I’ve been running this thing for a while, although the Cawntons very nearly outwitted me.”

  John looked up. “There is a run tonight,” Richard informed him, “but farther up the coast. He intended to leave you to take the brunt of the militia waiting in the bay.” Before he suppressed it, John’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in astonishment. “Carier has gone to Smith to tell him where to find Cawnton. They’ll be waiting. It won’t be the end of things, but it will help to clean this part of the coast up for a few years.” He gave me a wry grin. “We may have made another enemy, my love.”

  “I’ll put ‘Cawnton’ on the list.”

  He smiled a little, then turned back to his son, his face grave once more. “Don’t think there’ll be a space for you to fill. This will only be a setback for the Cawntons, not an end. They’ll be back. And they will look to you for revenge.”

  “How so?”

  “They know who’s been plotting against them, and they think you gave Smith the information about tonight.” He raised a brow. “I told them. So you’re better getting away from here.”

  “You can do that to your own son?”

  “If you were not my son you would be dead,” Richard told him. “The only risk I took was when I first came here—any seasoned campaigner would have shot us all through the head and left the explanations. But you gave my men time to get into position and make things secure downstairs. I thought you might. But if you had harmed Rose any more than you did, I’d have killed you. Son or no son.”

  John looked from Richard to me and back again.

  “He loves her,” Steven said from behind him. “More than I love my wife, more than he loves anyone else.”

  “Not something generally known,” Richard admitted. “And not looked for.” He glanced at me and his features softened. “But none the less welcome.”

  I smiled back. Richard glanced down at John, assuring himself that he was in no danger from his wound. The bleeding had almost stopped, but the blood had soaked through the bandage, so it would need changing again.

  “We must be going.” Richard turned and offered me his arm in a courtly gesture. Then he turned back, as though he’d forgotten something. “You will leave?” he asked John.

  “I will,” he confirmed. “Though I won’t leave your life.”

  “I know that,” Richard answered.

  Without another word we turned and left the room.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I rode astride since we couldn’t find a sidesaddle in time. Richard had seen me do this before, but only a couple of times when we’d been in Oxfordshire. I wished I could have found some breeches, only because his reaction to me in breeches was most satisfying. I wondered that I could think like that now, assumed it was shock, but before he helped me up into the saddle, he kissed me properly, so perhaps his mind was leaning that way too.

  “Game, beautiful and mine,” he said with a teasing smile, and then helped me up to the saddle. “You’re going home now,” he told me.

  “Oh, but—”

  He gave me a startled glance. “I’ll go and watch, from a safe distance, and I promise I’ll tell you what happens. But you need your rest. You won’t change anything by going, and I’m not intending to take any hand in what happens next. This is down to Smith.”

  We stared at each other and finally I gave in. If I’d insisted on going with him, he might have capitulated, but I was very tired and might hold him up. “Go to Hyvern. That’s too high up for anyone to get to you, or even notice you, and you’ll be able to get away quickly.”

  He nodded and turned to mount Strider. I waited until he had, then smiled. “Don’t be too long.”

  He smiled in return, and I watched as he rode off, accompanied by several of our men.

  The rest took Steven and me home. The best thing about employing servants was that they could vanish back into their accustomed places, melt away as though they’d never been here. Nobody noticed servants usually, but when every large household employed at least twenty, many of them male, I was constantly surprised by how many could turn up when called upon.

  Now the worst was over, fatigue hit me hard, and I rode almost automatically, half asleep before we got there. The hour was late, but James and Martha waited for us in the hall. Nichols was there, and at once came forward to put her arm about my shoulders. I leaned against her tall, gaunt form gratefully. I smiled at James. “I’m perfectly all right, but very tired—may I go to bed and tell you tomorrow?”

  “Of course,” Martha said soothingly. “We only wanted to be sure you were well. Go now.”

  Supported by my maid, I slowly made my way upstairs, only dimly aware of the commotion Steven’s wife was making with her greeting. He must be as tired as I, but he had to calm her down before he sought his own couch.

  Nichols undressed me, helped me to wash and saw me into bed. I knew nothing more until morning.

  I awoke to a blissfully normal reality. My husband lay next to me, awake, his arm protectively around my waist. I lifted my head, resting on his shoulder, and kissed him good morning. I was reminded of my ordeal by the soreness inside my mouth, where my teeth had cut it when John hit me.

  “Are you all right?” he asked with concern.

  “Oh yes. Nothing that won’t heal.”

  He smiled, but his worry showed in his eyes.

  “Only a little hurt.”

  “Did Drury touch you?”

  “No. John gave him every opportunity, but he chose not to take it. He preferred not to be spied on and put in someone else’s power. We thought John might have killed us in the bed and let you find us, so we remained apart. Otherwise…”

  “Otherwise?”

  “I don’t think he would have touched me. He might have asked, though.”

  Richard didn’t seem too interested in that. “So long as he takes no for an answer. I can’t stop him asking. Unless it distresses you?” His hand moved over my back and his hold tightened.

  “No, it will become a ritual in time. He asks, I say no.”

  “How lucky I am. I ask, you say yes.” He leaned over to kiss me.

  “Will you tell me?” I asked when I could.

  “About last night? Before or after we make love?” he said softly, smiling down at me.

  “Before.”

  He sighed and leaned back onto the pillows. I rested against his shoulder and listened to him. “We went, as you suggested, to Hyvern. It’s a sad place now, but it will make a picturesque ruin. Some parts remain standing, and they’ll stay there.

  “It was a dark night last night, despite the full moon. Heavy clouds kept obscuring it. And it was overcast as well. Most of us had spyglasses and we saw much of it.

  “When we got there, we dismounted and sat at the top of the cliffs, tethering the horses to the trees that used to stand by the drive to the house. The ship was already there, way out to sea, a dark shadow laced with rigging. Little shadows went to and fro, the rowing boats carrying the contraband. We heard nothing. So peaceful, hardly breaking the calm sea. The tide was
out, and I wondered where the military could be hiding.”

  “The caves,” I suggested. “They honeycomb that part of the coast.”

  “Indeed. And the next cove held some men as well. The caves were used by the smugglers?”

  “Only if they can’t help it. They prefer the safety of barns and outhouses in places they know well. Caves drown in high tide and have to be guarded all the time.”

  He nodded and smiled at me. “The operation was continuing smoothly, and we watched several passages of the little boats. The people on the beach were getting busy, too, loading the packhorses for the journey inland.

  “But none had left by the time the military struck. We heard the whistle from where we sat; it pierced the air and froze the smugglers. Like a tableau. Then it was all confusion. Not all the attackers were in uniform, some of them were Customs men, others Excisemen. I couldn’t distinguish Smith, but I don’t doubt he was there. I might go into Exeter and see him later. Find out what he thought of it all.

  “If I know the Cawntons, once they realised it was a trap, they would have been out of there faster than hunting dogs. I would be very surprised if they were taken. But the authorities took a fair number of men, and all the contraband. It only took about twenty minutes. Their numbers overwhelmed the smugglers—they were taking no chances.

  “The sailors lifted anchor and left. I don’t know why Smith didn’t commandeer a ship to capture it. Perhaps there wasn’t one available, but it got clean away. There was quite a breeze by then, and the sails filled as soon as they were hoisted.

  “It was all over in an hour. The goods were captured, and a number of men.”

  I thought it over. “Will you tell Smith where the Cawntons live?”

  “Oh no. We know, and we have it on our books. Another nugget of information. If the Cawntons ruled by terror, if they were as violent as the Hawkhursts for instance, I wouldn’t hesitate, but we’re not going to stop smuggling by having them hanged. Another gang will come, almost certainly worse than the Cawntons. Let them re-form. It will keep them busy, reduce the goods being run in here for a little while, and then continue as before. While duty is this high, smuggling is inevitable.”

  I agreed with him on this. When two thirds of the price of legal tea was taken in duty, it would be foolish to refuse the anonymous pedlar at the door. I’m sure I was buying it somewhere along the line. “And they’re not Jacobites.”

  “Eh?” He sounded surprised.

  “A lot of the gangs say they are Jacobites,” I explained. “And I can remember a time when they used to be. Undermining the King and his government, you see.”

  “And filling their own pockets at the same time.” He turned to me, smiling. “So, my lady, now I’ve told you…” He moved his hand over me, taking a nipple between his finger and thumb. “May I welcome you back properly?”

  I was overjoyed to see Barbara Skerrit, as she now was, at my sister’s wedding. A very grand affair, rivalling my own for pomp. Lizzie, of course, looked absolutely beautiful, but I was glad to leave the occasion to her. My main emotion entering the vast, beautiful space of Exeter Cathedral on my wedding day had been fear. Terror. She looked as though she enjoyed every moment. Her husband was tall, dignified, and not afraid to show his joy at making Lizzie his wife. Nobody seeing her gaze up at him after he’d slipped the ring on her finger could have doubted her emotions, either. She was married in a froth of cream silk and lace, pearls adorning her neck, hair and stomacher. The sigh when she walked up the aisle was palpable, men admiring her person, women her adornments. James, who in default of a parent gave her away, looked good as well, handsome and distinguished in blue velvet.

  We sat with Martha, Ruth, Gervase, Ian and the children in a long, enclosed pew reserved for us. The rest of our guests sat behind. I wondered how Steven felt—secure at last in the place he had been a nobody, just another curate.

  The adoring couple left the cathedral and we stood up. As I shook my skirts free, I glanced across at the pew opposite to us and saw Tom and Barbara.

  Tom was busy helping his wife to stand, and a few people nearby stared at them. Tom acknowledged the ones he knew by raising his hat a little, and with his wife leaning on his arm, he moved to leave the cathedral.

  Suddenly it was important to see them, be seen with them before they left. I said to Richard, “May we go and see Tom and Barbara? Now?”

  “Yes of course.”

  Propelled by his personality and his insistent “Pardon me,” we made our way to where Tom gently led Barbara away. “Tom,” I said quietly, and he turned around, Barbara too.

  She was still pale from her illness, dressed in a pretty gown of yellow silk, printed with sprays of spring flowers, with flowers in her bergére hat. But her face, her face! The scars were livid in her face, cratered out by her illness. I could have wept, for both of them. The scars would fade in time, but never go. She had them for life now. They would continue to pit her face, and her body, from what I saw from her breast and arms, until her dying day.

  I didn’t recoil, and I had deliberately set my face in a smile before she turned, in case the sight was bad. It was about as bad as it could be, except she wasn’t blind. Her velvety eyes still stared out, not affected by her scars.

  “It’s so good to see you recovered.” I leaned forward to embrace Tom, and then, without hesitation, Barbara too. Over her shoulder, I caught Mrs. Skerrit’s warm smile. I could almost read what she was thinking: I knew you wouldn’t let us down.

  I drew back and held Barbara at arms’ length before finally letting her go. Richard bowed and lifted Barbara’s hand to his lips. There wasn’t enough room in the narrow aisle for him to bow properly, but he managed a very graceful abbreviated version of it. His smile was also fixed, but only I knew that. We began to move out of the building, so as not to block anyone else’s passage.

  I linked my arm with Barbara’s. “Are you feeling quite well now?”

  “Yes,” she said dumbly. “Everyone has been very kind.”

  This must be a terrible ordeal for her, her first appearance in public since her illness. She was very brave to attempt it. I didn’t know if I’d have the courage. We walked out of the cathedral together, Tom, Gervase and Richard following behind.

  “You look a little pale,” I said when we emerged into the cold, autumn air.

  “That’s not all I look,” she answered bitterly, the first time she’d mentioned it. “Rose, I don’t know if I can stand it.”

  We were clear of the great doors, out of earshot of anyone else save her husband and mine. I turned to look at her. “May I speak frankly?”

  “Yes please. Nobody does, and I’d rather they mentioned it than just stared.”

  “You’re not the worst I’ve seen.” Nearly the worst, but she wasn’t blind. “And the marks will improve in time. But please don’t cover them with ceruse. That stuff can kill, you know.” I meant the heavy white makeup many people in her position, and those who wanted to look fashionable, used. It contained lead and covered very well, but led to the worsening of the skin and sometimes death.

  Barbara nodded. “Tom already asked me that,” she said, and then smiled. A flicker of the carefree girl I once knew appeared. “He said if he caught me wearing it, he’d scrub it off himself.”

  I smiled too. That sounded just like Tom, now conversing in a low voice with Richard and his brother. I felt someone at my back, but it was only Nichols, putting a cloak around my shoulders. I pulled it over my arms. “But you’ll always have some kind of mark. When people look at you for the first time they may well recoil, but they’ll get used to it. After a while they won’t notice. Don’t hide away, don’t hide yourself; face them.”

  “Eustacia said it was as well I married first. She said if I had looked like this a year ago I would never have netted Tom.”

  I caught my breath on the spitefulness of such a remark. Tom overheard and came forward to take her arm, making her look up into his face. “She said that?
I’ve a good mind to ban her from the house.”

  “I don’t think she’ll come very often,” Barbara told him. “There’s nothing for her at Peacocks.”

  Tom smiled at her reassuringly, and I saw and rejoiced in the strength he showed now. “I still think you’re beautiful,” he said, and when she smiled back, I saw why he thought so.

  I took Richard’s arm again. There was no time for any more remarks. People approached us, the Skerrits, Martha and James. “I think,” Richard said to me, “they might like to go abroad for a little while. I have that house in Paris, and a few other places they can use. Or Gervase says they can have his yacht for a while. Sail around the Mediterranean.”

  “That sounds wonderful.”

  He lingered to tell them. She smiled up at him as he told her. Her reaction was much the same as mine. “That’s so thoughtful. It will make up for the bride trip we never had.” Barbara turned with delight to tell her parents, who had come over to her, and her animation almost made up for what she had lost. Not quite though.

  Tom shook Richard’s hand warmly. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “What are friends for?” Richard said lightly.

  Gervase, standing at his other side, just behind, added, “And besides, I’ll hardly need it for a while, will I?” He would be busy with his new parliamentary duties. I turned my head to smile at him. Ian stood with him. They were never too far away from each other these days.

  Looking back, I saw my husband again, superb in heavily embroidered royal blue velvet. This wasn’t a county affair. This was a society wedding, and society had turned out in force to see my sister married to her handsome Marquês. They came in greater numbers than I had thought, but this was the turn of the season, the time when the pleasures of the country were beginning to pall and London wasn’t yet ready to receive its seasonal residents. I knew many of them and it gave me great pleasure to acknowledge their greetings in front of some of my erstwhile tormentors, particularly the odious Eustacia. I shouldn’t feel like that. I should be better than that, but I wasn’t and I revelled in moments like these. Only Richard noticed, and perhaps Martha too.