The Honourable Earl

by Mary Nichols

  Lydia let herself into the house. There was only one consolation to Annabelle’s disappearance that she could see; Ralph Latimer would not be able to keep that rendezvous with Freddie. Freddie. He would wonder why she had not obeyed him. Would he be angry enough to come to the house? In her present state, how would her mother react to his sudden reappearance?

  She could not tell her about the smugglers. Her mama would be horrified if she knew her son was mixed up with lawbreakers and planning some dark deed. And then her heart jumped into her throat. Supposing it had not been Annabelle getting on that coach? Supposing she was not with Perry at all? Supposing her sister had met Freddie and Freddie had involved her in his scheme because Lydia herself had been reluctant to cooperate? Supposing Freddie had gone off to do something else and was not with the smugglers and they had got Annabelle? All supposition, but all very frightening.

  She could not sit still and paced the drawing room from window to door and back again while her mother sat on a sofa, watching her, doing nothing except knead her hands in her lap and sigh softly. Hour after hour.

  ‘Mama, you must go to bed,’ Lydia said at last. ‘They cannot possibly be back tonight and you will need all your strength tomorrow. Take some laudanum, that will help you sleep.’

  ‘What will you do?’

  ‘I shall come and sit with you until you fall asleep, then I shall go to bed too. We must put our trust in his lordship.’

  ‘You do trust him, don’t you, Lydia?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘Then perhaps I will lie down.’

  Even under the influence of the drug her mother took a long time to fall asleep, but once she had done so, Lydia dressed in Freddie’s clothes, fetched the package from her clothes chest, hurried downstairs and into the night. She would use what she had to buy Annabelle’s release.

  She had spent so much time walking in the dark lately, she found the way with no trouble at all. There was no one at the hovel in the wood, though the contraband was still stacked on the floor, covered with an old sail. She sat down and leaned against a tree trunk on the other side of the clearing where she could see anyone who came and prepared to wait. What she had not bargained for was that she would fall asleep.

  She woke suddenly to the sound of a horse snuffling. It was very dark and, for a moment, she wondered where she was, but then she saw a pinpoint of light which gradually became a lantern on the cart to which the horse was harnessed. She sat up cautiously. There were men there, two she knew for villagers, two she did not know and the fifth was her brother. There was no sign of Annabelle or Robert Dent.

  While she watched, they finished loading the cart and covered it with the sail. ‘We’ll come back for the rest later,’ one of them said. ‘Daniel, you keep watch.’

  Daniel, Lydia realised, was the gardener’s assistant who had brought her the letter from Freddie. She wondered if Sir Arthur knew what his employee was up to.

  ‘No, I’ll wait,’ Freddie said. ‘You take the boy with you.’

  ‘What are you up to, Fostyn?’ the first man said. He seemed to be the one in charge.

  ‘Tell him I’m waiting to see if Gaston turns up.’

  ‘He won’t. Either he drowned or the revenue men have got him.’

  ‘You can’t be sure of that. I’ll wait anyway. You tell him I’ll come with the second load. I might have other good news for him.’

  ‘What other good news?’

  ‘He’ll know. Now get going, or you’ll not be finished by dawn.’

  They all left, except Freddie, who watched them take the rutted track through the trees to the old Roman road, then turned back into the hovel.

  Lydia waited a few moments, then left her hiding place and crept towards the tiny building, but in spite of her care, his senses were alert and he heard a twig snap under her foot. It sounded like a pistol shot. He was up in an instant and at the door, a pistol in his hand.

  ‘Don’t shoot, Freddie, it’s me.’

  ‘Lydia! What are you doing here? I told you to keep away.’

  ‘I had to come.’

  ‘Why? Did you want to see the fun?’

  ‘I do not think it would be much fun, Freddie. You would have shot me, if I had not called out, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘You foolish girl, that is just why I told you to stay away. Not that I would have shot you, but someone else might.’

  ‘And Ralph Latimer? Were you planning to shoot him?’

  He grabbed hold of her arms in a grip that hurt, making her cry out, but he did not release her. ‘You told him. You told him I was here and the coward has sent you to say he is not coming…’

  ‘No, Freddie, I have said nothing to him, but Annabelle has disappeared…’

  ‘Annabelle? My baby sister?’

  ‘Yes, but she is no longer a baby, Freddie. She is sixteen. She thinks she is in love and at first we thought she might have eloped. Mama still believes it, but I was afraid…’

  ‘Afraid of what?’

  ‘I thought she might have been abducted by…by…’ She stopped, frightened by the steely look in his eye. ‘The smugglers.’

  He gave a cracked laugh. ‘Why should smugglers be interested in Annabelle?’

  ‘I do not know. Perhaps, like me, she stumbled upon something she shouldn’t have. There is more going on here than shipping contraband, isn’t there?’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘I don’t know. But I heard a Frenchman talking and something about a man called Gaston who has disappeared—’ She stopped suddenly because his grip had tightened. ‘You are hurting me, Freddie.’

  ‘Sorry.’ He released her and she stood facing him, breathing quickly. ‘I did not mean to hurt you. I am afraid, being so long out of society, I have forgotten what a tender flower is.’

  ‘I am not so tender, Freddie. I am tough because I have had to be to help Mama, but I am also very worried about Annabelle.’

  ‘Lydia, I promise she is not with us. Oh, I wish I could come home and help you look for her.’

  ‘Why can’t you?’

  ‘Lydia, I cannot.’

  ‘Then you cannot complain if Ralph Latimer is gone in your place. Mama trusts him and he has promised to find her and bring her back.’

  ‘So, he is not coming here tonight?’

  ‘He cannot. He is miles away, chasing after Annabelle.’

  ‘Damnation!’

  ‘If he does bring Annabelle back to us, then you will owe him a great debt, Freddie, and I hope that means you will forget your hate and anger and learn to live with him as a neighbour, as I have had to do.’ It hurt her to say it, not because she had been wrong all these years, which she freely acknowledged she had been, but because she loved the Earl and living with him as no more than a neighbour would be even harder to bear, especially when she was married to Sir Arthur.

  ‘I cannot.’

  ‘Then you are no brother of mine,’ she said angrily.

  ‘Lydia, dearest Lydia, it is entirely out of my hands now…’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I cannot tell you. Oh, I am in worse straits than I was when I left here ten years ago. But I wanted to come home, it is all I ever dreamed of, and so I agreed—’

  ‘Agreed to what?’

  ‘Lydia, go home,’ he said suddenly. ‘Those men will be back shortly and you must not be here when they come. Go, please.’ He gave her a little push and reluctantly she went, head bowed, brain whirling. She no longer thought Annabelle was in danger from the smugglers, but what of Ralph? What had they got against him? And Robert Dent, where was he?

  ‘Got you!’ She was suddenly enveloped in something thick and sour smelling. She could see nothing, could hardly breathe. She struggled, trying to cry out, but her voice was muffled by the coat or blanket or whatever it was that had been thrown over her head. A rope was flung round her, pinioning her hands to her sides. Then she was lifted up and thrown, none too gently, into what she took to be a cart, for it started to move
off.

  She kicked and wriggled but she could not free herself and gave up trying. If her captors were the smugglers, they were probably going back to the hovel for the next load and Freddie would be there and would make sure she was freed. She could not see, but she could hear well enough.

  ‘He says he sent a message to the Earl, telling him the smugglers are at the cottage in the wood, and if he wants to catch them he must move immediately.’

  ‘Good,’ said another voice. ‘I hope he makes a good job of it. Sometimes I wonder if his heart is in it.’

  The first man laughed. ‘Never mind his heart, I am only concerned that he keeps his head. I think we should stay around and make sure. Wouldn’t want him to turn lily-livered.’

  ‘Do you reckon he will? According to him, he’s going to throw the body in the marsh where it will never be found… No body, no one to blame and everyone to think he’s gone back where he came from on account of the rumours.’

  ‘Our lord and master ain’t interested in old feuds, he wants the man dead for other reasons.’

  So, they did mean to kill Ralph and her brother was supposed to be the one to do it. How thankful she was that Ralph was miles away on another errand entirely. But what of her? Failing to deal with their first target, would they take her instead? Freddie would never allow that. Nor would Robert. But where was he? She had trusted him, but perhaps he never meant to help.

  The cart drew to a stop and then there was Freddie’s voice, strong and reassuring. ‘You took your time.’

  ‘Did he come?’ The man who spoke was jumping down from the cross seat of the cart.

  ‘Gaston? No. I reckon you can kiss that parcel goodbye. It’ll be at the bottom of the sea.’

  ‘Which is where you’ll be, if you don’t keep your part of the bargain.’

  ‘I will, never fear. Come and give me a hand with the rest of the load. It’ll take all night if I have to do it alone.’ He was very near the back of the cart now. ‘What have you got there?’

  The man laughed and grabbed Lydia’s shoulder to make her sit up. ‘A prisoner. Found him spying…’ He whipped the covering off Lydia’s head and with it went her hat. ‘My, my, what have we here? A pretty little female, to be sure.’ The man was big and broad-shouldered. His hands were massive and his grip as strong as steel. ‘Who are you, girl?’

  Lydia stared at her brother, not daring to speak, and he stared back. Then he laughed. ‘My sister, poking her nose in where it’s not wanted.’ He sighed heavily. ‘She was always the same, even when she was little…’

  ‘Thought you said you weren’t going home, said you’d stay here until he came…’

  ‘So I did, so I have. She came here this afternoon, exercising the dog. I had to speak to her, sent her home. Had no idea she would come back.’

  ‘What are we going to do with her, Joe?’ This was the second man who had jumped down from the cart and joined them.

  ‘Let her go home,’ Freddie said. ‘She won’t tell, she wants him out of the way as much as I do. That right, little sister?’

  Lydia nodded; she dare not trust herself to speak.

  ‘Well, I ain’t so sure,’ the man called Joe said. ‘We’d better keep her until it’s all over.’

  ‘No, let her go. Can’t you see she’s terrified?’ This was patently true, she was shaking with a cold sweat.

  ‘Can’t do that. Need to ask Sir. He might have other ideas.’

  Freddie, who had obviously been trying very hard to remain cool, suddenly lost his nerve and grabbed Lydia, manhandling her out from the back of the cart. She tried to stand but her legs had become numb and she felt herself sinking to the ground. He hauled her upright. ‘Let her go, can’t you? She won’t say a word. She wants me home and she knows it cannot be done any other way. And she’s only a child.’

  ‘Old enough to dress herself in boy’s clothes and go spying.’ The man took hold of her shoulder and pulled her from Freddie’s grasp. She felt like a toy being fought over by fractious children. ‘Ain’t that right, miss?’

  ‘Not spying,’ she whispered. ‘Wanted to join in…’

  Joe laughed and began to untie her bonds. She stood facing them, rubbing her wrists, but otherwise not daring to move. He continued winding the rope round his hand and elbow as he did so. His hand moved over the bulge in her pocket. ‘What have we here? A gun, is it?’ Before Lydia could deny it, he had his hand in her pocket and had withdrawn the package. ‘Not a gun. Something far more interesting.’

  She looked about her, wondering if she could make a run for it while he was busy untying it, but the other man anticipated her and grabbed her.

  The map, the water-stained documents and the stones, white in the moonlight, lay open in his hands. He looked up and his expression terrified her even more, if that were possible. ‘Where did you get this?’

  ‘I found it.’

  ‘You lie.’

  ‘No, it’s the truth.’ She looked to Freddie for support, but he was looking at the contents of the package as if mesmerised.

  ‘Where’s Gaston?’ the big man demanded.

  ‘I don’t know who you are talking about.’

  ‘Let her go,’ Freddie said desperately. ‘I’ll stand buff for her.’

  ‘And who’ll stand buff for you?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Even in the poor light, Lydia could see him pale. Unless he could remain in control they were lost.

  ‘I mean it looks as if you did away with Gaston to take possession of these.’ He picked up one of the stones between finger and thumb and held it up to the moon. It seemed to glow with a light of its own. ‘Worth a fortune and well worth killing for. Passed them on to the little sister, did you? Told her to keep them safe for you.’

  ‘No. I didn’t know she had them. Lydia, you did find them, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, on the beach.’

  ‘Well, it puts a different complexion on things, to be sure. Get in the cart, both of you.’

  ‘No, let her go,’ Freddie said. ‘I’ll come, if you let her go.’

  ‘You’ll come in any event.’ He suddenly shot out a fist and Freddie went down like a stone. Then he turned to the other man. ‘Put him in the cart. And her. We’ll come back for the rest of the stuff and see to that other business ourselves.’

  Once more she was tied, this time with her hands behind her back, and manhandled into the cart beside her unconscious brother and they set off again. Where were they going? What was to become of them? If they were killed, what would become of her mama? And Annabelle and John? If only Ralph would come. She needed him, she needed his strength, his protection. But he was on another mission on her behalf and could not come.

  The horse plodded on. The two men were silent. She looked down at Freddie, lying in the bottom of the cart. He seemed to be still unconscious, but then she saw his eyes open and he winked at her. Reassured, she turned away and looked about her. They were passing Mistress Grey’s cottage, but she did not think there would be any help from that quarter. When the smugglers were abroad, it did not pay to be too inquisitive. She would be in bed with all the lights out and the door locked and perhaps tomorrow, there would be a bottle or two of wine on her doorstep, payment for her silence.

  They could not be going far, she calculated, because of the time the men with the cart had taken to return on the previous occasion. Where? They were moving inland in a north-westerly direction. Southminster. The road to Southminster had been marked on that map. The big man looked back at her from his perch on the cross seat beside the driver.

  ‘Did you think I might try and escape?’ she asked.

  ‘No hope of that.’

  ‘But why should I want to? I have no interest in what you do, what any of you do except my brother. I want him home safe and sound. At any price.’

  He seemed to find this statement extremely amusing and laughed aloud, nudging his accomplice. ‘Did you hear that, Martin? At any price, she says. Sir will be pleased to hear that.’
<
br />   ‘You have the map and the stones, what more do you want?’

  ‘Me? Nothing at all, my dear.’

  He turned his back on her and they plodded on, the cartwheel creaking over the rutted road. ‘You’ll have to do something about that hub,’ the big man said to his companion. ‘We can be heard for miles.’

  ‘Aye. I’ll see to it before I go back.’

  They turned off the track onto the Southminster road. Lydia recognised it easily; she had walked it many a time, most recently the day she had ventured through the gates of Sir Arthur’s mansion uninvited, the day Ralph had taken her up in his coach and lent her his umbrella. He was her umbrella man then and this nightmare undreamed of. Nor the exquisite torment of knowing that she loved the man who had been the object of her loathing for ten long years. And for what? Was her brother worthy of her loyalty? For the first time she began to doubt it.

  She was not allowed to dwell on this unpleasant thought because the cart turned in the gates of Sir Arthur’s house and she gasped aloud. ‘Why are we coming here?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  They went on past the front of the house and drove straight into the stables. It was dark inside, the only light the lantern on the cart, but even by its poor light, she could see that this was no stable, but a great warehouse stacked with contraband. Surely Sir Arthur could not be unaware of what was happening on his own property? Daniel and the other man came out of the gloom as the two men on the cart, jumped down and spoke to them, explaining why they had not brought everything from the cottage. ‘But we’ve got something more interesting,’ the big man was saying.

  Lydia felt Freddie nudge her and looked round to find him sitting close beside her, untying her hands. ‘Now,’ he mouthed. ‘Get out and run for it while they’re busy.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’ll be right behind you.’ He almost pushed her off the back of the cart.

  She ran towards the open door and straight into the arms of Sir Arthur Thomas-Smith.

  ‘Why, Miss Fostyn,’ he said. ‘What an unexpected pleasure.’