Secrets in the Mist

by Anna Lee Huber

  I wasn’t surprised to see one light brighter than all the rest, perched on the balcony running across the back of the house. Kate liked to sit there and read in the evenings, until her brother or her maid chased her inside, warning her about the ill effects of night air. Then fifteen minutes later she would return, heedless of anything they said.

  I smiled at the thought, imagining her there now, absorbed in one of the Gothic novels her mother had forever chided her for reading. Once upon a time she’d hidden them under her mattress to keep them from being confiscated. But now she could curl up with them wherever she pleased, even on the portico, and read for hours on end.

  “You’ll have to remain quiet,” Jack murmured as he slowed the rhythm of his rowing.

  My smiled faded, as I began to grasp the consequences of what I was doing. Lying to my friends. Slipping past their house under the cover of night with a strange man. A man I’d kissed more than once, and yet I was still considering Robert’s proposal. That realization scalded me with guilt.

  When we passed the black oak tree at the edge of Greenlaws House, its gnarled roots exposed at the river bank, Jack lifted his oars from the water so that we could glide silently past the dock and the house. The boat gradually slowed as our momentum was all but lost in the current, but as we reached the border of the gardens, he slipped his oars back into the water and resumed rowing.

  I had to wonder why he had not directed us toward the opposite bank of the river, away from Greenlaws. In the darkness, the far shore was nothing but a blur. But the answer was soon made apparent, for beyond the garden trellises where I had encountered Jack just a few days before, he began to steer the small boat toward the pair of docks that had been built to provide easier access to Greenlaws’ outbuildings.

  I stiffened at the realization that these men were operating on Robert’s property, right under his nose. Did he know? Had he guessed what the wherry men delivering his supplies were involved in? Had our quiet approach been intended to hide their efforts from Robert, or to shield Kate and his servants?

  I had a difficult time believing Robert was unaware of the illegal activities happening in his outbuildings. Almost as difficult a time as I had believing he knew about such a thing and let it go on. Robert was nothing if not dutiful, always following in his father’s eminently proper footsteps. Except when he did not. I had never been able to predict Robert’s odd whims, when he would suddenly decide the traditional route wouldn’t suit. Like when he married Olivia. Was this another of those instances, or was he being willfully blind?

  I pushed the thoughts aside in order to prepare myself for what was to come. I could see the silhouette of a man now, standing at the edge of the second dock. His feet were braced apart and his arms crossed over his chest. Jack seemed unimpressed by his unwelcoming pose, tossing the boat’s line up to him without a word. It smacked the man in the chest, and for a moment I thought he would let the rope drop, but at the last second he caught it.

  I could see now that it was Harry—the man Kate had dubbed Achilles—and he didn’t look the least bit pleased to see me. His eyes narrowed in challenge, never leaving my face even when he leaned over to tie the line around one of the dock poles. The ground was higher here, and less prone to flooding, so the dock posts did not need to stand so tall.

  Jack maneuvered the boat up next to a ladder. “Up ye go,” he told me in the rough accent I’d heard him use the time we met in the gardens.

  I flicked a glance up at Harry and then back to him.

  “He won’t harm ye,” Jack murmured, correctly interpreting my hesitation. “’Least, not while I’m close by.” He levelled a glare up at Harry.

  I swallowed and pushed to my feet, hoping the men would attribute my shaky steps to the rocking of the boat. When I reached the top of the ladder, Harry didn’t offer me a hand to help me up onto the dock, even though he stood just two steps away watching me balance precariously. Seeing his expression, I decided I should simply be grateful he hadn’t done the opposite, tipping me off the ladder into the river. I pressed my hand against the adjacent post and fumbled to step up without tripping on my skirts.

  When I finally managed to get both feet flat on the solid planks, I shook my skirts out and backed a few steps away, consciously keeping Harry in my sight as Jack climbed onto the dock with the lantern. Harry didn’t wait long to interrogate his friend.

  “What’s she doin’ here?” he demanded, thrusting a meaty thumb in my direction.

  Jack’s jaw hardened and he reached a hand out to grip my arm under my elbow, drawing me gently but insistently forward. “You’ll find out wi’ the others.”

  Harry drew himself up even taller, refusing to move. “She’s meetin’ wi’ us?”

  Jack shifted half a step closer, exploiting the height difference between the two men. “Yes.”

  However, the several inches Harry lacked in height he more than made up for in bulk. Jack was by no means scrawny, with broad shoulders and strong arms, but Harry topped him by at least two stone of solid muscle. I held my breath, worried for Jack’s safety—and consequently mine—should they come to blows.

  Harry’s eyes closed to slits. “Does Himself know ’bout this?”

  “Yes.”

  My eyes jerked to Jack, surprised and a bit unsettled by this bit of information. The tone of his voice brooked no argument, so I had no reason to doubt it was true. But who was “Himself”? And just what had he and Jack discussed about me?

  Jack ignored me, keeping his attention firmly focused on Harry. Probably a smart decision, under the circumstances.

  My shoulders tightened as Harry inhaled, his nostrils flaring. “Aye, well, this oughta be a treat,” he replied, shifting his angry golden eyes to me.

  Given the way he had just challenged Jack, I knew the worst thing I could do was cower under his glare. So instead I forced myself to square my shoulders and lift my chin.

  “Care to step out o’ the way, then?” Jack growled. “Or do ye wish to take a dip?”

  Harry moved to the side, never taking his eyes off me. “After you,” he declared with a twist in his voice.

  Jack hesitated, but only for a second, before pulling me forward. I did my best to avoid touching Harry, but he’d afforded us little room to pass, so it was impossible to evade him completely. My elbow brushed against his lower stomach, and I was tempted to thrust it into his gut. As if sensing my inclination, Jack tightened his grip on my other elbow and hurried me past.

  The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as Harry turned to follow us. I wondered how Jack could trust he wouldn’t drive a dagger into our backs. A quick glance at Jack’s face told me he didn’t.

  We turned off the dock into the shadows of the outbuildings, and followed them to the smaller wooden structure at the end. I could see light flickering through the window next to the door, and I guessed that this building must be some type of a watchman’s shelter. Perhaps to guard the other storage buildings, or to shield the servants and wherry men as they waited in poor weather. It was just the sort of consideration I would expect Robert to show to the men working for him.

  At the sight of it I quickened my steps, eager to be near others, whoever they might be, and away from Harry and whatever his intentions might be. But this time Jack held me back. He didn’t say a word, didn’t even so much as glance at me, but I could sense what he was thinking. Keep calm. Be easy. I obeyed, but I couldn’t understand why he was so determined to keep to his pace. Perhaps for him to speed up would be seen as a sign of weakness by Harry, but at the moment it seemed more important we actually make it into the watchman’s shelter alive.

  I inhaled deeply as Jack opened the door to the hut and escorted me through, but my relief was short-lived. Half a dozen men stood and sat ranged around a fire crackling in the hearth. Two of them were bent over a pair of canvas sacks, sifting through something inside. They had all been chatting amicably until they’d turned to hail Jack and spotted me. Their voices fell silent a
nd their faces turned stony.

  I stumbled to a stop, unprepared for their animosity. I’d known it was likely that my involvement would not be welcomed, at least not at first. I’d expected I would need to convince them much the same way I had convinced Jack. But in my eagerness to escape Harry’s hostility I’d allowed myself to think the others would react better. I was wrong.

  The door slammed shut behind us, and I jumped at the sound, whirling around to find Harry glaring down at me. I backed away several steps, and then swiveled to keep the wall at my back so I could keep everyone in my sight. Harry’s gaze cut to the men with the sacks, who gathered them up, clinking together whatever was inside, and lowered them into a cask nearby.

  Jack sidled farther into the room, and the look he turned on me as he crossed his arms over his chest was only a fraction less chilling than that of the others. “This is Miss Winterton,” he declared, as if that was all that needed to be said.

  And apparently it was, for one of the men seated with his feet propped up on the fender before the fireplace grunted in agreement. His coal-black eyes gleamed in the firelight. “Aye. Now what we gonna do wi’ ’er?”

  Chapter 19

  M

  y heart kicked sharply against my ribs, urging me to run. Except Harry stood over my shoulder, blocking the door. I knew I would never be allowed past him, so I had no choice but to stand there, waiting to hear what they decided to do. I wanted to hurl curses at Jack, furious that he had betrayed me, but I had to be satisfied with shooting him an icy glare. Which did not seem to faze him in the least. If anything, his gaze seemed to sharpen more.

  “Did ye bring ’er to share wi’ us?” The man with the greasy pate leered.

  I stiffened.

  “In a way,” Jack replied.

  I stifled a gasp, staring at him in alarm.

  His lip curled in a sneer. “Miss Winterton is joinin’ our crew.”

  This seemed to stun the other men for it was several moments before anyone else spoke.

  The man at the fender narrowed his eyes as he swept them up and down my form. I was grateful for the folds of my summer cloak shielding me from his gaze. “Ye mean, a bit o’ welcome distraction fer us?”

  “No,” Jack said slowly. “We need ’er to deliver the Longshore cargo.”

  I inhaled a shaky breath in relief, while the others glanced at each other in displeasure. The men before me still eyed me with enmity, but at least I now knew Jack didn’t intend to pass me around like a common whore or sink me in the marsh. There was every chance one of the others might attempt something, but Jack appeared to be keeping his word.

  “We don’t need no help,” a man with a thick red beard growled.

  “’Specially no’ from some fancy lady,” the stoutest of the men added, eying me with distaste.

  “Does Himself—” the coal-eyed man began.

  “He does,” Jack interrupted loudly. “An’ he’s decided her job. Not me.” There was a strange look in his eyes, one I couldn’t quite read. “He thinks she’ll be useful.”

  I could feel all of their gazes on me again, appraising my worth, but I did not look away from Jack.

  “If any o’ ye choose to disagree,” he continued, favoring all of them with a disdainful scowl, “he’ll see that as yer offer to take on her role yerself. An’ he’s offerin’ to make the necessary cuts.”

  My eyes widened at the threat, but it didn’t seem to trouble the others beyond a few low grumbles.

  “No need. Freddy’s already had his cobblers nipped,” the stout man cracked, and they all turned to laugh at the man who appeared to be the youngest of this motley crew.

  He straightened from his slouch to glower at them all. “Oy, better ’n missin’ me frock, Dibs.”

  My cheeks heated at this exchange, having guessed at the meaning even if I didn’t quite understand their language. In any case, my reaction went unnoticed as Dibs launched himself at Freddy and the others jeered and heckled.

  “Enough,” Harry snapped, crossing the room in a handful of angry strides. He grabbed Dibs’s shoulder in one meaty hand and pulled him away from Freddy, sending him stumbling back into Red Beard. “If ye want to flap at each other like a couple o’ pigeons, do it when I don’t have to watch.”

  Dibs frowned, but fell quiet along with the others. Only Jack seemed unaffected by Harry’s outburst, watching the proceedings with almost bored indifference. Perhaps that was what ruffled Harry the most, for when he turned back to look at him, his chest still heaving with fuming breaths, he couldn’t have failed to note how unintimidated Jack was. Harry was clearly a man accustomed to inspiring apprehension, if not outright fear, and Jack’s apathy may have rankled.

  Harry’s narrowed gaze shifted to me. “If Himself wants ’er to join us, so be it.” His teeth flashed in a wolfish grin. “I can think o’ a few choice tasks for ’er.”

  The other men began to chuckle, clearly understanding what tasks he was referring to even if I didn’t. I could hardly complain. I’d asked to join their crew. I couldn’t refuse whatever dirty, unappealing duties they might ask of me now.

  “Himself already has a plan,” Jack said. There was a momentary gleam in his eyes that made me think perhaps he was quite satisfied to have delivered this bit of news, foiling Harry’s ideas, but it was gone before I could be sure it wasn’t just a trick of the firelight.

  Whether he’d also seen it or he was just reacting to such a statement, Harry was not happy. “Does ’e, now?” he rumbled in a low, agitated voice.

  “Says he’s stealin’ a ploy from an old friend.”

  I stared at Jack’s profile, wondering again just who the devil Himself was. I knew that now was not the time to ask him, if he would even tell me, but I couldn’t help feeling a prickle of unease. Plainly it was someone who knew me, or at least knew of me. As it was, after meeting these men I was starting to wonder just why he had accepted me onto his crew. Either they truly had needed me for some purpose, or Jack had used some strong means of persuasion to convince him.

  Did it really matter? Whatever the reason, there was certainly no turning back now. No matter how my stomach churned or my chest hollowed with dread.

  “So what is it?” Harry demanded.

  Jack’s mouth flattened. “One o’ ye louts offer Miss Winterton yer chair and I’ll tell ye.”

  ~ ~ ~

  A short time later, I found myself seated in the boat across from Jack again. I had yet to speak. My thoughts were too preoccupied with the plans he had shared. The plans for my first foray into the perilous and illegal world of smuggling. Plans in which I featured quite prominently. To say I was alarmed and, to be perfectly honest, terrified would be putting it mildly.

  When I’d asked to join Jack’s smuggling crew, I’d thought my role would be a minor one. That I would act as a lookout, or help sort and deliver the goods. Or that I would help water-down the spirits and add coloring, a process I’d overheard one of the local men discussing many months ago. Apparently, French distillers shipped brandy and other spirits over-proof so that it could be transported in smaller casks, and then the smugglers watered it down into its traditional form and added caramel to color it. At most, I’d guessed they might use me as a distraction. But this…this was a far more active and risky part than I’d ever thought to play.

  Thus far the only advantage I could see in my taking such a crucial part in the venture was that I would be able to more quickly earn back the loan “Himself” had given me to pay off Father’s fine. As Jack had spelled out the terms, more dangerous jobs would earn me more credit than the minor tasks I’d anticipated performing, allowing me to gain my freedom sooner. Potentially.

  Jack must have sensed how stunned I was, for he did not try to engage me in conversation. He simply pulled rhythmically at the oars, letting the current do most of the work as we floated downstream. I appreciated his forbearance. At any point he could have reminded me of the fact that I had little choice in the matter. He could have rem
inded me that he’d warned me about joining their crew. I was the one who’d refused to listen. But he kept his counsel, allowing me to sort through the implications myself. Letting me grow accustomed to the realization that I was going to be actively smuggling costly fabrics and gems off a ship, and right under the noses of the revenue officers in Yarmouth.

  When Jack had explained Himself’s plan, the others had rubbed their chins and grunted their approval. However, I didn’t know if their ready acceptance was a testament to the scheme’s chance of success or relief that they would not be the ones risking their necks. I was not experienced enough to know, but the brazenness of the plot left my insides quivering.

  I studied Jack through my lashes. I wanted to ask him if he believed the plan would work, but I knew I shouldn’t seek or expect any reassurance from him. That even if he gave it there was no guarantee he would be speaking the truth. Nor could he foretell the future. So I bit my tongue.

  Or at least I thought I had, but when he spoke I suddenly couldn’t be sure.

  “Yes. I think the plan will work.” His eyes turned to lock with mine, and I swallowed.

  “Did I…” I began faintly.

  The corners of his lips quirked upward. “Your eyes spoke for your lips,” he explained. But then his mouth fell. “We’ll have to work on that.”

  I clasped my hands tighter in my lap and nodded.

  “But so long as you don’t act suspiciously and expose yourself, there’s no reason to think the plan shouldn’t work.” He pulled harder on the oars, guiding us into a smaller channel. “I wouldn’t have agreed to it otherwise,” he added almost as an afterthought.

  I studied his face in the pale light cast by the lantern, wanting to believe him but afraid to do so. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d been able to rely on a man—not my father, nor Robert, nor even Erik, who had abandoned me for the army and never kept his promise to come home. I knew it was foolish to hold that against him given the fact that he’d been killed in battle, but it was yet another example of all the ways the men in my life had failed to honor their word. What made me think Jack would be any different?