Francis persuaded Charlotte it would make a great deal more sense to wait until spring to acquire a pony and, to make up for her disappointment, arranged for her to go to her grandfather’s, where she could ride her beloved Moonlight. I was to go with her.
I was a little apprehensive as the carriage set off the first dry day after the downpour. This was, after all, Grandpapa Trevelyan, father of both Francis and Selena, and I imagined an older, crustier version of them, with an amalgam of all their faults.
I was in for a pleasant surprise. Samuel Trevelyan was the epitome of a country squire, bluff, red-faced and genial – and obviously delighted to see Charlotte.
‘Fancy coming all this way just to visit your old grandfather!’ he teased, and I could not mistake the twinkle in his eye. ‘Shall we have a game this afternoon? Chequers, perhaps?’ Charlotte bit her lip, bravely trying not to hurt his feelings.
‘If you like, Grandpapa. But… I did think… If the rain holds off…’
‘The rain? What has the rain to do with it?’ He relented then, pinching her cheek between finger and thumb and smiling.
‘It’s all right, my little maid. I know it was Moonlight you came to see and not your old grandpapa.’ He turned to me. ‘Do you ride, Miss?’
I shook my head. ‘I’m afraid not.’
‘Oh well, I suppose it will fall to me to put the lass through her paces,’ he grumbled, but I had the impression he was far from displeased at the prospect.
The rest of the family were just as easy to like. Adam, the elder son, who would inherit the estate, was a younger version of his father, his wife Anne was a gentle, kindly woman with a ready smile, a good deal younger than him, and Charlotte’s cousins, Harry and Richard, seemed as genuinely pleased to see her as her grandfather had been. They whisked her off to reacquaint her with Moonlight and I was left with Anne, who sat serenely sewing as we chatted.
‘How do you find Francis and Selena?’ she asked, threading her needle with a new length of silk.
‘I see very little of them,’ I replied truthfully. ‘Most of my time is spent with Charlotte.’
‘It must be lonely for you,’ she said, glancing at me.
I had no intention of being drawn into a discussion on my situation and certainly not on my employers.
‘Charlotte is very good company. She’s quite grown-up for her age,’ I said.
Anne sighed. ‘That is what happens to children who spend most of their time in adult company, I am afraid. Though she can be wilful, I’m told.’
Like her mother. The unspoken words hung in the air and I guessed who it was who had done the telling – Selena, with her bitter resentment.
But Anne must have known Julia as her sister-in-law, I realised, and I thought it strange she had not shown any signs of surprise at my likeness to her. Unless, of course, Francis or Selena had warned her in advance. Yes, that must be it. But certainly there must be a good deal she could tell me about Julia if she chose to do so. I wished desperately I could ask but I knew that a first meeting was not the time for such questions.
‘I certainly haven’t found Charlotte in the least difficult,’ I said. ‘We get along very well together.’
‘Good.’ Anne buried her needle in the fine sampler she was stitching. ‘I wish she could come to visit us more often. She so enjoys herself with the boys – and the pony, of course! It’s not good for her, stuck in that dark house with no siblings of her own. I’ve mentioned it often enough, but Francis and Selena always seem to be too busy to bring her over. Now that you are here, though, there’s no reason at all why you should not make regular visits.’
‘I’d like that,’ I said, genuinely pleased. ‘And I do agree with you, company closer to her own age is just what Charlotte needs.’
The day passed pleasantly, the evening meal was a good deal more convivial than it ever was at Morwennan, and the room they had allocated to me was light, airy and comfortably furnished.
From the chit-chat over dinner, as well as the remarks Anne had made to me earlier, I formed the distinct impression that this branch of the family were not overly fond of Francis and Selena, and that was scarcely surprising. They really had very little in common and it was almost impossible to believe they could be so closely related.
But then, I thought, perhaps Francis and Selena had been adversely affected by the fact that they were the younger son and the daughter, and, where landed gentry was concerned, did not count in the scheme of things.
They would never inherit their lovely home, or indeed any part of it. They had to watch whilst their elder brother was favoured, and whilst his children roamed the sweeping grounds they had once roamed. The people in the portraits hanging on the walls were their ancestors too, the same blood ran in their veins as in Adam’s, and yet every stick and stone, every artefact, would pass to him when their father died. They would get nothing, for an estate was an estate, and could not be divided. It must be passed intact from eldest son to eldest son so that the wherewithal for its survival was not dissipated. Sensible, perhaps – practical, perhaps – but at the same time rather cruel to those who were the losers.
Could it be, I wondered, that Francis and Selena would be more like their brother if they were not eaten up by the jealousy and resentment that came from knowing that everything would go to him? Perhaps that was it. For the first time I felt a little sympathy for my employers.
I was genuinely sorry when it was time for Charlotte and me to leave Penallack. I had been truly relaxed for the first time in weeks, and I had slept better too. Though this house must be much older than Morwennan there were no creaks overhead here to disturb me, and the morning sun, when I drew back the curtains, streamed into the room from a lovely open aspect instead of filtering fitfully between overhanging branches.
Almost the first thing I noticed on returning to Morwennan was that there were deep score lines and footprints in the soft ground alongside the path beneath my window. Clearly fresh, they had eaten into the rain-softened ground. I knew at once what it meant. There had been illicit activity here last night. Another load of contraband had been transferred from the cove to the next staging post on its journey inland.
Immediately it occurred to me that perhaps Francis had had an ulterior motive in despatching me and Charlotte to his father’s house for the night. It must be of concern to him that my window was directly above the path; clearly he did not want me to know what was going on. The first time goods had been moved when I was in occupation they had slipped a sleeping draught into my wine, I felt sure; this time my absence had been engineered.
I must confess the realisation disturbed me. What would they do next time to try to ensure I did not discover what was going on? More than ever I felt the menace of Morwennan closing in around me, and the sympathy I had felt briefly for Francis evaporated.
He was a ruthless man, I had no doubt – and Selena was not much better. She could scarcely be unaware of Francis’s activities. Had Julia been aware too? Was it possible that the reason she had run away had more to do with her distaste for Francis’s ‘business’ than it did with her flighty nature, as Selena would have had me believe? Perhaps she had grown tired of having to pretend she was blind and deaf where those nocturnal comings and goings were concerned.
I simply could not believe that my mother would have been any more in favour of ‘the Gentlemen’ than I was. And I hoped with all my heart that soon I would find someone prepared to tell me the truth.
Thirteen
Tom came to the house next day to see Francis and when they had completed their business he came to seek me out. Charlotte and I were working quietly in the parlour and the moment he put his head around the door my heart skipped a beat. No matter what I thought of Tom, it seemed, my senses refused to listen and my inability to control the racing of my pulses whenever he was near disturbed me.
Did I really want to become involved with a man whose colleague was prepared to drug me or get me out of the way whenever it su
ited him? A man who had spoken so coldly of the death of his own brother? Of course I did not! With an effort I drew myself tight and refused to meet his eyes.
As always Charlotte had no such inhibitions. She bounced out of her chair, knocking her books to the floor in her haste, and ran to greet him.
‘Tom! Tom! Guess where we went yesterday!’
He rumpled her hair. ‘I know where you went. To ride Moonlight. And now you have to catch up with your lessons. It’s Charity I’ve come to see.’
‘Oh – Tom!’ she wailed.
‘If you are very good I might find a bonbon in my pocket…’
Her eyes widened. ‘One of the special French ones?’
‘One of the special French ones – if it’s not squashed to a pulp…’
He pulled a twist from his pocket and passed it to her, and I tightened my lips. A French bonbon. Just a small item from the booty brought ashore last night, no doubt.
‘Now – get on with your sums while I talk to Charity and maybe there will be another one for you,’ he said with a smile.
I turned away. He came up behind me, slipping a hand beneath my elbow and steering me towards the window.
‘Why are you avoiding me?’ he asked in my ear.
The directness of the question took me by surprise. I held myself stiff, though the touch of his fingers seemed to be burning into my skin, and my flesh tingled in response to it.
‘Why should I be avoiding you?’
‘I don’t know. But you are, Charity. Ever since the day of the fair. Is it because of the man who came to see you – Joshua? Are you and he…?’
‘Of course not!’ I replied sharply. ‘Joshua is my brother! At least, that’s how I think of him.’
‘Yes. You were treating me with coldness even before he came, of course. But why, Charity? I thought that we…’
‘Very well.’ I glanced over my shoulder. ‘Charlotte, go on with your work for a few moments. I shall be back very soon.’
I moved to the door. Tom followed me. As we went into the hall I saw Mrs Durbin emerging from the mysterious door on the far side. As she caught sight of us she drew back, then, seeming to think better of it, came out again, locked the door behind her and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.
‘So,’ Tom said. ‘What have you to say to me that can’t be said in front of Charlotte?’
I faced him squarely, taking my courage in both hands.
‘There are things going on in this house that I don’t like.’
‘You’ve noticed,’ he murmured wryly.
‘And you are involved in them. Well, I want no part of it.’
‘Oh, Charity!’ He was silent for a moment; the tick of the grandfather clock sounded very loud in the hush. Then: ‘I thought it might be something of the sort. But you don’t understand—’
‘I understand all too well!’ I interrupted sharply. ‘I realise I may be placing myself at risk by admitting it, but I feel I must speak out or place myself at even greater risk. I know that Francis is running a smuggling ring, and I know that you are one of their number. Please don’t bother to deny it.’
A look of alarm crossed his handsome features. ‘Is Francis aware you know this?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘He has been at pains to keep me in the dark. But I am not a fool, Tom, whatever you might think.’
‘I certainly don’t think that. But if you know what is going on here and don’t like it, why do you stay?’
‘I’ve reasons of my own,’ I said. ‘But I won’t be drawn into it, Tom. And I don’t want to involve myself with those who are.’
‘Charity.’ He spoke urgently, looking around as if to be sure we were alone. ‘You must believe me when I say I don’t like what is going on any more than you do.’
‘So why do you do it?’ I asked with asperity.
‘I too have reasons of my own. But I am not like Francis, believe me. He is a dangerous man, and if you have learned the truth about him, then I would urge you to leave this house now, for your own safety. If he thinks you might be a danger to him, Francis would stop at nothing.’
My heart was beating very fast. Tom was echoing my own thoughts. But I could not leave now, with so many secrets yet to be uncovered. And I could not abandon Charlotte.
‘I’m sure I’m not in any immediate danger,’ I said with more confidence than I was feeling. ‘Unless of course you intend telling him I know the truth.’
‘Of course not! I would protect you with my life,’ Tom said, and I found my treacherous heart wanting to believe him.
‘Oh, Tom.’
‘Listen to me, Charity. I am not in Francis’s pocket, nor for him in any way,’ Tom said urgently. He took my hands in his.
Oh, it was easy, so easy, with his hands holding mine, to believe what he said when it was what I so desperately wanted to believe! I couldn’t pretend I understood; like so much else in my life this was beyond my understanding. But when has comprehension had anything to do with it? I only knew that my heart was crying out for him, my body responding to his touch, and everything in me needed so much to trust this man who stirred me so.
‘Do you believe me?’ he asked.
I nodded dumbly.
‘Then you can do something for me. Something that may put an end to this whole dreadful business that you hate so.’ He looked around again, then leaned close so that his lips almost brushed my ear. ‘I need to take a look in the storerooms.’
I frowned.
‘The storerooms,’ he repeated, impatient that I had not instantly understood. ‘The rooms at the top of the rise, behind the coach house. That’s where the contraband is taken when it is brought up from the caves before it goes on its journey inland.’
‘Ah!’ I nodded as the pieces of the puzzle fitted together. ‘But why…?’
‘Never mind. It’s better that you don’t know. But it’s important. You must trust me on that. There’s something I’m looking for which I think might be there. To get in I need the key. Francis always carries one set on his person, but there’s another set in his study. Do you think you could get them for me?’
A little shock ran through me. Was this the man who only a moment ago had said he would protect me with his life?
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Why can’t you get them yourself?’
‘I am never in Francis’s study except when he is there. You are. When he’s out you give Charlotte her lessons there. You could easily slip them into your pocket and pass them to me.’
‘But if he found them gone,’ I objected. ‘He’d know it must be me who had taken them.’
‘He’ll never miss them,’ Tom said confidently. ‘Why would he when he has his own set on his belt? And I would need them for a little while only. I would give them back to you, you could return them to their hook, and no one need be any the wiser.’
‘Oh I don’t know, Tom…’
But his hands holding mine were persuasive, his mouth, close to my ear, even more so. I was lost and I knew it.
‘Very well. I’ll see what I can do.’
He kissed me then, hard on the lips, his arm circling my waist and drawing me close so that my breasts were squeezed against his broad chest and my hips fitted snugly with his. A wave of desire so strong it made me dizzy rushed through my veins and sensations I had never before experienced set me trembling with anticipation and sharp sweet delight.
‘I knew I could count on you, Charity,’ he murmured.
When he had gone and I was alone all the doubts came rushing in. Why did Tom want to get into the storerooms? How could I know that his reason was any more honourable than Francis’s? Was this a falling-out among thieves – Tom taking his opportunity to help himself to more of the spoils than was his due? For hadn’t he on the one hand told me to leave for my own safety and then, almost in the same breath, asked me to do something which would undoubtedly put me at serious risk should Francis discover what I had done? Was he just using me for some dishonest purpose of his
own?
No. I could not allow myself to think it. Maybe I was the biggest fool alive, but with all my heart I wanted to believe that Tom was better than some greedy smuggler. I couldn’t lose my heart to someone like that – and I had lost my heart to Tom without doubt.
For better or for worse I knew that I could not refuse him anything. Without meaning to, I had fallen in love.
* * *
My chance came next day.
Francis and Selena were both out – Francis on business, Selena visiting friends – or so she told me. As always when the study was free Charlotte and I went there to work on her lessons.
Some of Francis’s heavy ledgers lay on the desk. I pushed them to one side, surprised, in view of the fact that he was so anxious in other ways to keep me in the dark about his activities, that he should have left them there where I could so easily see them. But then, what would I find if I opened one? Nothing, probably, but a list of items that could just as easily have been an inventory of honest trading, the books of a merchant. I was not, in any case, much interested. I could think of nothing but the bunch of keys which hung on a hook in a small alcove behind the door.
Dare I take them? How long would it be before I saw Tom again and could pass them to him? Would Francis miss them and guess I was the culprit? And why did Tom want them in any case? My head spun as I set Charlotte some simple Latin grammar. And all the while my eyes kept returning to that bunch of keys hanging there in full view on the study wall.
In the end I took them, just as I had always known I would. Whilst Charlotte’s head was bent over her books I slipped them off the hook and into the deep pocket of my apron. They jangled a little as I moved and my heart seemed to stop beating. Suppose Charlotte heard? If she asked me why I sounded like a chatelaine I would die on the spot!
Morwennan House Page 17