Secrets in the Mist

by Anna Lee Huber

  I felt tears of anger and hurt and futility suddenly begin to gather in my eyes, and I turned my head to the side, blinking furiously.

  “Ella,” Robert murmured, speaking up for the first time. He moved across the room toward me.

  I held up a staying hand. “How long has this been happening?”

  Robert’s mouth pursed like a petulant child. “Olivia started it.”

  Reynard’s smile turned conceited. “Hmm, yes. My delightful cousin found her husband, or rather his land, extremely useful.” His eyes flicked up and down Robert in distaste. “The rest of him, not so much.”

  “You put her up to it. You’re the one who convinced her to marry me in order to run your little smuggling operation from my home.”

  Suddenly so much seemed clear. The reason for the rift between Robert and Olivia. Reynard’s frequent continued visits even after her death. The rumors that Olivia had been unfaithful. Part of me wanted to feel sorry for Robert, to pity him for his wife’s perfidy, but an even stronger part of me refused to. Not after he’d betrayed me and my brother so cruelly. Wasn’t this what he deserved?

  “But why didn’t you stop it?” I asked him, trying to understand why he had let this go on for four years. He had even built these outbuildings to hide the activity.

  Robert turned his head aside and clenched his fists, as if unwilling to face me or my questions.

  Reynard moved closer, almost taunting him. “Because once he realized he’d committed treason he really had little choice.”

  My neck snapped around to stare at Reynard, and I realized too late this was exactly what he’d been waiting for.

  “As have you, Miss Winterton.”

  My skin flushed warm and then cold. “I hardly think a few bolts of silk and a handful of gems will be given much notice,” I bluffed, all the while knowing he had more to reveal.

  Reynard’s smile turned wolfish. “Ah, but those gems were bribes from French families for services rendered. And that special package wasn’t just a book. It was coded messages from the French to their spies here in Britain.”

  I thought I might be sick all over his shoes as the full implication of his words hit me. “And the papers in the bag I passed to Captain Haywood? They weren’t simple bank notes, were they?”

  “No, Miss Winterton.” The look in his eyes told me how much he was relishing every second of my shock and horror, drinking it in like it was the finest wine. He clucked his tongue. “I suspect the British government would be eager to hear about such traitorous activity.” He dangled the threat before me, and then moved one step closer, reaching up to grasp my chin roughly between his thumb and forefinger. “But lucky for you, you are useful. Very useful. For who suspects a quiet little mouse like you of being capable of such treacherous things.”

  I stared into his dark eyes, seeing the bleak, soul-shriveling future he planned for me. However unwittingly, I had crawled straight into his web, and now he pounced, spinning his silken threats around me, securing my silence and compliance so later he could use me as he wished.

  Was this what Jack had been trying to warn me of? Was this why he had been so frustrated when I wouldn’t listen? Did Reynard hold something over him as well? Was he blackmailing all these men?

  I dismissed that possibility as soon as I thought of it. Most of these men would sooner kill Reynard than give in to any demands that did not benefit them. I wished I was ruthless enough to do so—to stick a knife between his ribs—but I knew I was incapable of such an act. And he knew it, too. He counted on it.

  That realization filled me with rage. Why hadn’t Robert resisted? Why hadn’t Jack? Every ounce of me rebelled at letting Reynard have his way.

  “You’re bluffing. If you inform the government about me you risk exposing your entire operation.” I pulled my chin from his grasp, though it hurt to do so. “Questions will be asked, and I won’t remain silent.”

  If possible, Reynard’s eyes only glittered brighter in the firelight, clearly appreciating the challenge I was offering. “Will they?” His eyebrows lifted. “Or will you be thrown into a dark hole to rot until your trial? If you’re ever given one. After all, traitors are rarely shown consideration. Even an earl’s granddaughter. And I doubt even your benefactor, whoever he is, would care to save you after he’s learned what you’ve done.”

  I had no way of knowing if what he said was true, but even if that was not enough to sway me, what he said next was.

  “And your father, well, he might have escaped justice this time, but what will he do when his daughter is no longer there to save him? When casks of his favorite French brandy are found on his property? That would be rather more condemning than that single bottle he was swilling at the church’s anniversary dinner.”

  “You rotten blackguard,” I spat back at him, knowing now who had been responsible for giving my father that bottle of brandy, even if he hadn’t been the person to hand it to him. He had found my weakness and he knew it. Unable to face him a moment longer, I pushed past him, headed toward the door.

  “Let her go,” I heard him say. “She’ll be back.”

  The words were like claws being raked across my soul.

  Chapter 28

  I

  threw open the door and charged down the dock into the deepening twilight. I heard Robert calling my name, an odd turnabout to the scene that had played out just a few short days ago.

  “Ella, wait!”

  I darted into the orchard rather than the garden, hoping he wouldn’t follow me, but I was not so fortunate.

  “Ella,” he gasped, grabbing my arm and pulling me about to face him under the dark branches of one of the apple trees. The sickeningly sweet perfume of their ripening fruit filled the air. “Let me explain,” he pleaded.

  “What is there to explain?” I snapped. “Your wife and her cousin blackmailed you into letting their treasonous smuggling ring operate on your property, and you weren’t brave enough to stop them.”

  Robert’s head reared back at hearing me state the truth so bluntly. Why spare his feelings? He hadn’t spared mine.

  “I had no choice,” he argued. “If Reynard told the government what was happening at Greenlaws I would lose everything.”

  “Including your head.”

  He scowled. “Kate would lose everything. My servants and tenants would lose their livelihoods.”

  “Does Kate know?”

  I could tell he was growing angry at my lack of sympathy. “I suspect so. But we don’t discuss it.”

  “I can’t believe this has been going on for four years. That you asked me to marry you, intending to drag me into this tragedy without informing me of it.” Then a thought occurred to me. “Why haven’t you turned the tables on Reynard and reported him? Surely you have some contacts in London you could go to? Some legitimate business associates?”

  “It’s happening on my land, Ella. And as you said, for four long years. Who is going to believe me now?”

  I realized then what I suspected I’d known for a long time: Robert was forever ruled by others. His father, his mother, Erik, Reynard, even Olivia—whom he thought he had wed in a fit of impassioned rebellion, but in all likelihood she had been in control of their relationship from the start, manipulating him to do what she wished. I even guessed that Robert had initially been drawn to me because I followed his lead. I did as he wanted. But in the end that had also been what had torn us apart. With his parents dead and Erik gone off to war, he had looked to me to guide him, but I couldn’t, especially in my still grief-stricken state over my mother’s death. Olivia and Reynard had seen that weakness in him and used it to their advantage.

  He would never be able to free himself of Reynard. How could I expect him to offer me help in doing so? It was simply beyond him, and this both infuriated and saddened me. No assistance would come from him. At least, none that I would want.

  I shook my head in frustration. “I don’t have time for this. I must go.”

  “But Ella
…” he protested.

  I paused to glance back at him, knowing there was one way to make him stop following me. “Robert, I cannot marry you. I will not,” I stated more firmly and then hurried off into the darkness with only the moon and the orchard’s neat rows of trees to guide me.

  I sensed swiftly that I was not alone, but as I knew almost certainly who it was, I was less concerned and more agitated. At the far end of the orchard, I grew tired of waiting for him to catch me up, if in fact he even intended to do so rather than shadow me the entire way home, and paused to stare out across the road at the blur of fields and the lights of Greenlaws House in the distance. He took longer to approach than I expected, but eventually I heard the soft sweep of his feet through the grass behind me as he came forward to stand beside me.

  “Just doing your job, I suppose. At Reynard’s bidding?” I muttered in a brittle voice, wondering if he’d been tasked to follow me.

  “No,” Jack replied quietly. “Only mine.”

  I turned to look at him, wishing I could see his face in the darkness, wishing I knew whether he meant now or always. Though I didn’t know why I thought seeing his expression would help. I suspected I might have seen him more clearly even before he’d ever allowed me to see his face.

  “I suppose Reynard was only too thrilled when you informed him I wished to join his smugglers.” I hated the sullenness that filled me, knowing I only had myself to blame for falling into his trap. I might not have created the circumstances that had necessitated it, but I had been the one to latch onto it as a solution.

  Jack’s head turned so that his dark eyes could meet mine, glistening in the moonlight. “I tried to warn you,” he replied with more empathy than I would have been able to manage had our situations been reversed. The regret in his eyes was all that kept me from snapping back at him.

  I sighed heavily. “Is there any more I should know?”

  “There’s always more,” was his quiet response.

  Weary and overwhelmed from the night’s revelations, I shook my head. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”

  “Don’t say that.” His voice was suddenly fervent. “It always matters.”

  I watched as the wind combed through his hair. “So how is Reynard extorting you? Or are you just motivated by greed?”

  He glanced down at his feet, shifting his stance wider. “When I was a young man, I was careless, reckless.”

  “You aren’t now?”

  I could see the faint outline of the scowl he leveled at me.

  “I believed that I and everyone I cared for were invincible. But…I discovered I was wrong.” He paused and I could feel him gathering himself, weighing his words, trying to form them on his lips. “It was the evening before Bonfire Night. I had imbibed too much and so I decided it would be great fun to light the bonfire laid for the next evening a day early. But first I thought the kindling needed to be built up a bit higher.”

  I pressed a hand to my mouth, afraid I already knew where this story was leading.

  “As you can guess, in my sorry state I did a rather slapdash job of it. It collapsed on top of me. After I’d already set it ablaze.”

  I gasped.

  “Fortunately for me, my brother was there and he was able to pull me out. But then another section of the bonfire collapsed, trapping him underneath, and I was too inebriated to do a dashed thing.” His voice grew sharper with each word he spoke. “By the time help arrived…and they were able to free him…” He swallowed audibly. “It was too late. He was…”

  “Oh, Jack,” I cried, wrapping my arms around him, trying to spare him from having to say the words. He remained stiff in my embrace, as if denying himself the comfort I offered. “How old were you?”

  “Old enough to know better. Young enough to learn it’s best to never take anything for granted.” His arms slowly lifted to return my embrace.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered into his chest.

  “You shouldn’t feel sorry for me. My brother is the one who deserves your sympathy, not me.”

  “Yes, but it obviously affected you greatly.” I pulled back to look up at him. “We all make mistakes, Jack. All we can do is hope to learn from them.”

  His hand lifted to my jaw, brushing the tips of his fingers through the short tendrils of hair along my neck behind my ear. “Which is why I’m telling you. So you can learn from my mistakes.”

  I furrowed my brow, standing a bit straighter.

  “You cannot go on shielding your father from the consequences of his actions.”

  I tried to back away, but he wouldn’t let me.

  “I understand that he’s your father. I understand how that makes everything more difficult. But you are not obligated to sacrifice your life for his.”

  Finally managing to pull away, I whirled around, not wanting to hear this, not wanting to acknowledge his words or the deadly earnest tone in which they were spoken. Because I knew he spoke the truth. And sometimes the truth could wound. I supposed that was why we so often lied to ourselves.

  “You’ve done all you can, all anyone could ask of you,” he continued on relentlessly. “But now it’s time to let him stand or fall on his own. You cannot allow Reynard to control you with this. You must escape while you can.”

  I reached up to swipe at the wetness on my cheeks, realizing I was weeping. “But the charges of treason?” I whispered.

  Jack turned me gently to face him. “Was a bluff,” he pronounced with such certainty. “He knows he risks too much by exposing you.”

  I wanted to believe him, but my insides still quavered at the thought of facing possible arrest, of leaving my father open to Reynard’s wrath.

  Jack gripped my shoulders. “You need to get away from here.”

  “But I have nowhere to go.”

  His eyes studied my face as I clung to his upper arms, feeling as if I might suddenly fall apart if he released me.

  “What if I found you a place?”

  I began to shake my head. “Jack—”

  “If it were safe. If it were secure. Would you go?”

  I stared up at him in astonishment. What was he saying? What did he mean? “I don’t know,” I admitted honestly.

  He inhaled as if shouldering a heavy burden. “Then we shall just have to address that when it becomes necessary.”

  It was so autocratic, so like something my father or his friends would have said when they visited us before my mother’s death. I felt my curiosity awaken. I searched his face, studying him as I sifted through memories and impressions. “Who are you?” I couldn’t help asking, thinking maybe this time he would trust me.

  At first he didn’t respond, and I waited patiently, hoping the fact that he hadn’t immediately dismissed me was an encouraging sign. But when he spoke it was only in more riddles. “People are not always who they wish they could be.”

  I frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  His lips curled into a wistful smile. “I know.”

  I opened my mouth to ask more, but he stopped me with a kiss. This time I didn’t fight it or spare a thought for Robert or anyone else. I simply gave myself over to it, letting it overwhelm me. He was strong and warm, and his mouth tasted like whiskey. My knees went weak, and I could almost feel my bones dissolving under the ministrations of his tender touch.

  I knew it was dangerous to let myself rely on him in any way, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. I was already too much on my own, and his words, his presence were a heady comfort I couldn’t seem to resist. He made me feel for the first time in many long months that I wasn’t quite so alone. And that was more alluring than any kiss.

  ~ ~ ~

  During the next few days I avoided Greenlaws, which was beginning to become something of a habit. Though this time, I also largely stayed away from the village, worried I would encounter one of the smugglers, or Robert, or worst of all Reynard, and be forced to accept what increasingly seemed to be inevitable. Would Jack find a safe place for me and Mrs. Br
ittle, who I refused to leave behind after all her care and loyalty? Would I be able to abandon my father to his fate?

  Those questions weighed heavily on my heart, and I spent long hours contemplating them as I sat on Mother’s bench, staring out at the marsh. I knew what Jack and Mrs. Brittle had both counseled was correct, but the heart doesn’t always accept reason, no matter how many times it’s been wounded.

  It was there that Mrs. Brittle approached me one midday, hobbling around the kitchen fence. “Yer father is callin’ for ye. Shall I tell him ye’ve gone?”

  I sighed and rose to my feet. “No. I’ll see what he wants.” More brandy, I suspected, as I’d dumped out the remains of his bottle from the night before.

  Mrs. Brittle harrumphed in disapproval, but walked with me back to the cottage. At the kitchen door we heard my father bellow and shared a look.

  “Dinna forget I tried to spare ye,” she declared.

  I followed the sound of Father’s grumbling into his study, where he was pacing back and forth behind his desk, working himself into an indignant fury. Before I entered I braced myself for whatever petty grievances he had decided to air today.

  “Yes, Father. Here I am.”

  He rounded on me, brandishing a piece of paper. “What is the meaning of this?”

  I frowned upon seeing the folds in the foolscap, reasoning it was a letter. Not this again. “Where did you get that?” I demanded. Since he had intercepted my grandfather’s letter, I had been so careful to personally accept the delivery of all our mail, little as there usually was. Had the post-boy come late today?

  Father’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Ingles gave it to me yesterday evening.”

  I bit back a curse, wishing Thurlton’s postmaster was not also its publican.

  “Not that that should be any of your concern. Why is Mr. Fulton writing to you again? And who is Viscount Waveney?” He bit off the last two words.

  I pressed a hand to my abdomen, attempting to quiet the apprehension gathering there. I wished I could read the letter. Just what exactly did it reveal? How much did its contents require I tell my father? “We were attempting to find a way to pay your second fine,” I hedged. “As for Lord Waveney…” My brow furrowed as I tried to recall whether I’d ever met the lord who bore that title. “I have no idea why you mention his name.”