by Joan Smith
I was escorted back to Babe. “I hope you enjoyed the party, miss,” Jem said.
"Thank you for a delightful evening.” A sense of heady exhilaration hung about me as I rode on home alone. The more I came to know these gentlemen, the more I admired them. What a daring business it was, and how profitable, I thought, as I put my five guineas into my drawer.
Monday morning I feared the jig was up. Crites came right to the school and asked for me. My heart was in my throat when Miss Aldridge called me out to our little office to speak with him. “Miss Anderson, Officer Crites has spoken to me, and he now wishes to question you,” she informed me, with a haughty, rebuking look at the revenueman. I assumed a pose of polite interest and asked him if I could be of help.
"I hope you may,” he answered, smiling genially, which did little to improve his face. Crites, among a host of other unattractive traits, has teeth like a rabbit. In full smile he is not a pretty sight. “I have been led a merry chase by the gentlemen the past winter, and have come to the conclusion they are using this school for hiding their contraband,” he told me.
If he suspected at all, then the school was no longer of use. Best to go along with him, and divert suspicion from my own culpability. “Now isn't that odd! Do you know, I thought I noticed an odd smell in the room this morning. I made sure one of the children had not left a partially eaten apple in his desk, but it was not so. I asked them all to have a look, for an apple will smell like the very deuce in a closed room. You don't think they'd have the gall to put it in the school surely, Officer!"
"Ho, as to gall, miss, it wouldn't surprise me if they stashed it in the church. Miss Aldridge claimed to know nothing of the matter, and I daresay she is innocent herself, but that is not to say the wool isn't being pulled over her eyes. Say not a word, ma'am. I'll catch them next dark, see if I don't."
"I'm sure you will, Officer. They ought to be arrested, every man jack of them."
"No need to mention a word to Miss Aldridge. It will only upset her, poor old malkin. The fewer who know of our suspicions, the better. I'd appreciate it if you'd tell me if you see anything of that pair of wastrels belonging to the Widow Hessler lurking around the school. They've got some way of getting in, stands to reason. You haven't noticed a lock broken or such like?"
"No, nor a window either,” I could answer without blushing.
He chatted on a few moments, but when he began to get personal, I excused myself and returned to my classroom. Crites tucked his teeth under his lower lip in a way he has developed to try to hide them, and departed. I had to be in touch with Jem at once, and said to Millie that she was to tell her brother the revenueman had been at the school that day.
"I seen him,” she answered, with a wise face.
"Saw him, dear."
"That's what I said. I'll tell Jem."
Grammar was irrelevant at such a moment. Next day Millie “forgot” to bring her lunch, and Jem dropped it off during his higgling rounds. I told him the story. “I'll speak to Miss Thyme,” he answered. “Thankee, miss."
"Who is Miss Thyme?"
"Oh, ‘tis an alias, like. You mind in the good old days the ringleader called himself Miss Marjoram, and we call our chief Miss Thyme. It is said, you know, that gentlemen are most easily led by a lady."
I was highly curious to know who Miss Thyme might be, but knew well enough the futility of asking. I was sorry my part in the business was over. With the school hors de combat, however, my use was at an end. I mentioned this to Jem. “Buck up, miss. You never do know what the Lord has got in store for you, do you?"
The Good Lord had nothing of any interest in store for me for the next few days, but He had not forgotten me entirely. On Friday I went home to find Mrs. Hessler sitting in my saloon with Andrew. “Mrs. Hessler has been telling me of her problems,” Andrew said. I darted a guilty look to the woman, who looked at me with a warning stare.
"I was just telling the reverend the troubles I'm having with my lads, dear,” she inserted quickly. “Jem has taken to drink, the devil. Come home foxed t'other night, and I'm asking your brother to remember him in his prayers.” It was about the only help she was likely to get from Andrew. “Your brother's been telling me how long the evil of drink has been with us,” she rattled on. “That Bacchus sounds a rare rascal."
"Can I give you a cup of tea before you leave, Mrs. Hessler?” I asked.
"That would be dandy,” she smiled. When Andrew arose to leave us, I said not a word to detain him. “They need your help,” she said in a very blunt way, as soon as we were alone.
"They can't use the school. Crites will be there. It is madness to think of it."
"I know, Miss Anderson, but you must come up with something for them. What are they to do with the stuff?"
"What does Miss Thyme suggest?"
"He suggests we talk to you,” she answered.
Here was my chance to discover at last who Miss Thyme was. “Tell Miss Thyme if my help is wanted, I shall be at home alone this evening. Andrew has a meeting of the Parish Council, and Miss Halka goes to play whist with friends."
"Well, but he can't come while the meeting's on,” she countered, frowning at me.
My mind hastily darted over the members of the Parish Council, unable to credit that any of them would be involved in the free trade. She obviously thought I knew who the chief was, had figured it out in some manner myself. To my relief, she spoke on. “After the meeting is over leaves it pretty late. Why don't you run along to the Parish Office now and see him before it closes?"
"I'll do that,” I managed to reply, with my ears singing and my senses all reeling. Then I drank up my tea in a hurry to get there before Sir Elwood Ganner, KBE, had turned the key in the door and gone home to his mansion and his wife, Lady Ann. Yes, Sir Elwood Ganner, the parish officer, the paragon of the town, the father-in-law to our Member of Parliament—the biggest toad in the puddle—was Miss Thyme.
I had never for a moment suspected him. He was always rushing around, dipping a toe in every bit of good that was done locally, and receiving praise and citations for it. His KBE, to be sure, was felt to be a reward for his long years devoted to helping others. All the while he had been helping himself as well.
He was bald-headed, perfectly bald with a very shiny pink scalp, which would be speckled with brown marks later in the season. He had been a frequent visitor at Fern Bank when my father was alive, putting in a good word for some miscreant about to appear in the dock. His gentlemen, very likely, whose services he required. Ah, the world was changing focus before my eyes. White becoming black, black white—or maybe it was all gray.
"You are surprised, Miss Anderson,” he began, with a glint of amusement in his very blue eyes. “But I was not always an elderly and respectable gentleman, you must know. I was once young, poor and ambitious, like yourself."
"That must have been a good many years ago, Sir Elwood."
"Aye, so it was. More years that I like to think. Over forty years ago I started in the business. Now it is time I retire, and pass the reins to my successor. I've only hung on so long waiting for the right man—er, person—to come along. I had some hopes your brother ... but Andrew is very bookish when all is said and done."
"I can't do it. If it ever came out, Andrew would be ruined."
"It won't come out. I've run the gang forever, with never a soul knowing but the Hesslers. Old Jim used to be my accomplice, and his son was so bright I took him on when Jim died, despite his youth. If he were a little older, he'd be my replacement. You need not stay in it so long as I did myself. Build yourself up a dowry, and retire as soon as Jemmie is a little more mature. I gave only my brains to the outfit. I took no active part, and naturally as a lady you would not be active in the physical end of it. Give them a hand. They're stouthearted lads, but not so bright and wide-awake to the business end of it as is required. You will be dealing with London merchants and French exporters—dealing in large sums of money. They want sharp managing, the lads. There's a tidy profit
in it for you. I make a hundred guineas a trip. Better than five, eh?"
My heart was beating like a hammer. It seemed too large, too dangerous an undertaking. I wanted to say no, and run out the door, but something kept me in my seat. The hundred guineas a trip had something to do with it, but it was not just greed. He spoke of the “enterprise” having to be abandoned.
"It will put a lot of families on the parish dole,” he said. “The fishermen are idle from Christmas till March or April, giving extra hands just when you need them. Summer, being a light season for the free trade, is a good time for you to get your toes wet. Don't think the civil authorities will give you a hard time—I—they won't. They know well enough it is only the smuggling that gives us the lowest poor rate in the country. They are not eager to have to support the poor out of the mill rate. As to cash to finance it, you must have some monies saved."
"Not nearly enough."
"I'll lend you the rest. You must pay them when they land. And never double-cross them, Miss Thyme.” He smiled as he gave me his name. “You can repay me over the next few months. I shall be happy to lend a hand when I can. It will not look exceptionable if the rector's sister drops in on me from time to time, eh? I have a list of London agents here, and some other information you will need."
He went to a file cabinet and drew out, from his parish records, one innocent-looking folder that contained all manner of criminal information. My own name was there, with the rest, on the bookkeeping sheet. He called me only Miss A, but what a thing to have written down.
I stayed with him an hour, and went home the chief of the smuggling gang at Salford, with five hundred pounds in my pocket. It was announced in the Salford Sun next day that Sir Elwood Ganner was being raised to the rank of baronet for his unceasing efforts to better the conditions of the poor of Salford. That was why he wanted out of smuggling, of course. He was aiming to be Lord Something or Other before many more years were out, and did not wish to have the skeleton of Miss Thyme in his cupboard. I doubted very much if I would ever be so grandly rewarded for my own efforts on behalf of the townsfolk, but I never had any hankering after rank, so that did not vex me.
Chapter Four
My first duty as Miss Thyme was to discover a new hiding place for the load coming in. Coming in that very night, in approximately six hours! I was distracted over dinner. Any brother but Andrew would have noticed it, but with the Parish Council meeting on his mind, he was content to eat with very little conversation. Edna inquired, after dinner, what ailed me, as I had eaten so little.
I had been arguing with myself the pros and cons of making Edna privy to my secret. I felt it would be well to have an accomplice under my own roof. Indeed, close as we two were these days, it would be no easy matter to hide my career from her. Like most of the ladies in the village, she looked up to Sir Elwood as a tin god. If I told her, I would let her know the whole; that I was replacing Sir Elwood. Well, to make this uninteresting episode brief, I did tell her. She was first incredulous, then disagreeable, and after I adopted a bout of sulks, she came round to accepting it. She maintained, however, the right to dislike it very much, and tell me so at every possible opportunity, always forecasting disclosure and disaster. I don't say she is not a moral person, but it was clear her main concern was not that I acted wrongly, but that I might get caught. The name Sir Elwood Ganner had often to be spoken, to remind her what high company I kept in adopting this profession.
She finally went to prepare herself for the card party and let me get down to some heavy thinking. I had to get five hundred pounds to Jemmie to pay off the French importers, but more importantly, I had to come up with a hiding place for approximately one hundred barrels of brandy. Jemmie was soon tapping at the door.
"Is it all set, miss?” he asked.
I took him into Andrew's study, lest another caller come and see this unlikely guest in my saloon I gave him the money, but was hesitant to tell him what spot I had selected for concealment. I had not told Edna yet the full depths of my depravity. She was initially so upset that she did not know there was a load coming in this very night at all. “Well?” he asked, waiting.
"Bring it here,” I told him. The church was at the east edge of town—it would not be necessary for the barrels actually to go through Salford. It was perhaps a daring idea, but its very daringness made it unlikely of discovery. Who would think to look in a church for smuggled brandy?
"There's a service Sunday morning!” he pointed out. “The tranter don't pick it up till Sunday night."
"I don't mean to put it in the church proper. There is a crypt underneath, a burial vault with enough room to hold the barrels. The men must move very quietly, mind. Not a sound, or Andrew will awaken and discover them. I'll be at the back door and let them in, and be there again Sunday midnight to open up for them."
"Don't show yourself, miss,” Jem cautioned, worrying about me. “Just leave the door on the latch and go back in the house."
"That's not a bad idea. I'll have a look from the bell tower too, to see if anything is stirring that shouldn't be. Not that I'll see much in the dark. They must leave the mules in the woods beyond the road and each carry his two barrels on his back to the crypt door. I'll try to think of a better place for next time, but for this once, we'll use the church. Crites, we know, will be at the school, so he won't be pestering us. He doesn't mean to scout the shore at all tonight, but catch us out at the school."
Jem's freckled face broke out into a smile. “Aye, you're a wise one, miss. Thyme is the wrong name for you. It's Miss Sage you are, and no doubt."
As our scheme came off without a hitch, I was dignified with the title Miss Sage. Do you know, it is amazing how you can become accustomed to anything after a while. I knew many a nervous hour the first few weeks, but with time I settled down to my old routine and hardly thought of the business but on Friday. The crypt proved so successful a place of concealment that we continued using it for the whole spring and summer. Fewer loads were made in the warmer weather, but with such smooth work as we were making of it, we did not discontinue as most gangs were in the habit of doing. Our supply was so steady too that we became quite a favored crew in London. I paid Sir Elwood Ganner, Bart., off his five hundred pounds. He cautioned me that certain official folks in London were becoming irate at my success, but I thought it was only professional jealousy that I was performing better than he had done himself. With the chief official of the town in my pocket, and with a fool of a revenueman half in love with me, I foresaw no immediate difficulties in my path.
Edna poured an unending stream of mournful prognostications over my head, but I felt strong, clever, unbeatable. I almost regretted the ease of it. It would be more exciting if we had a smarter foe than Crites to deal with. It never occurred to him anyone would be horrid enough to hide brandy in a church. He returned several times to the school, then reverted to the inn, the warehouse and the old places of hiding. I spoke to him most civilly when we met, even let him take the idea I admired him. “Did you not catch the smugglers at the school, Officer?” I asked him one day.
"No, I was mistaken about the school, Miss Anderson. It must have been an apple you smelled after all. They never did show up."
"They have heard you are on to them, Officer, and didn't dare go back when they knew they must have you to contend with."
The rabbit teeth jutted forth in pleasure. I am convinced men are conceited enough to believe anything. He actually believed he was feared by the smugglers, and admired by me. I hardly knew which joke was funnier. “They'll not be using your school if they know what's good for them,” he boasted.
Andrew came down with a bad cold, which troubled his sleep. I expect it was the hours spent in that drafty gallery playing the organ that caused it. The result was that he complained one Monday morning of hearing noises at his back window, which is, unfortunately, above the crypt. It was necessary to use the school again for a spell after this. I wanted to have a key made up for Jemmie, and it was
this that led to my trip to London, for I would not have it made locally. This was not the only reason, of course, nor even the main one. The piles of gold heaping under my petticoats had something to do with it. I wanted a chance to spend some of it, and put some in the bank.
I don't mean to say I never spent a shilling previous to this. I gave some to charity in nefarious ways. Sukey Millar, whose mama is a grass widow with three children, went home more days than one with a guinea hidden in her coat pocket, and never suspected its source, nor ever questioned it either. Its final use was visible in a better coat on the children's backs, and better lunch in their baskets. I was practically the sole support of Mrs. Kiley (mother to a parcel of red-haired adulterine children, you may recall). As the sister of the rector it was not unexpected I should befriend her. It was a thankless task, for she had no management, but as often as I could attend to it, she had food in her cupboards at least. Indigent callers to the rectory were given a couple of shillings by Andrew, and a couple of pounds, “saved from the household money” I told them, from myself.
This may be an ineffective way of performing charity, but it is a highly satisfying one. Money put into an institution will be dissipated in no visible way, but to give cash to a poor man and see him walk down the street and turn into a shop gives a warm feeling in the heart. With a job myself now and Andrew's position, that we had a little money to spare was not remarkable. I also fixed up the rectory in a way to please me. Andrew did not have to be accounted to for anything, as he never noticed if a new chair was in the saloon or a new lamp on the table. He was perfectly oblivious to his surSroundings, which was very convenient.
But of course if I were to vanish for two days, he would notice it, so I had to invent a pretext for a trip to London.
"I am going to pay Cousin Dora a short visit,” I told him.
"Dora, which one is she?” he asked. Mama's sister in Devonshire had three married daughters, one of them living in some unfashionable suburb of London.