by Burnett, May
“I am not my stepmother, always out to better myself,” she said stiffly. “I count myself lucky to be still alive, and no longer cursed to carry that villain’s child. Anything more is a bonus.”
“But –“
“Please don’t say any more, my lord. You will be much better off with a woman you can love and marry in all honour. Once this chivalrous impulse passes, you’ll be very glad I did not take you up on it.”
He saw that she was paler than at the beginning of their talk, and realised that it must have been tiring and stressful for her – it was stressful enough for him.
“I will not importune you any more just now, you need to rest,” he said, “we can talk about it later, with Susan. Just remember that the offer remains open.”
With a bow he left her, and sent Mrs Widdy back in. She had been drinking ale in the taproom, and after a glance at his rigid face, did not ask any questions, bless her.
“Take good care of her,” was all he said, before going out – he needed fresh air, and some way to work off the rage that still enveloped him. Most of his fury was directed at Fenton, but he some was left for his perfidious, conniving sister – to keep such a deadly insult and attack on her honour, her family, to herself! When she had him, her father, and two other brothers to avenge her honour!
Why had she done it? She had put Miss Trevelyan’s survival first – that he could understand. What she had done still amounted to a desperate and chancy gamble. That a Winthrop had been reduced to such a course! Had she not trusted him at all?
Yet what could he have done, other than challenge Fenton, as he had already been attempting to do for the lesser assault?
He remembered her odd notion of wanting to help that other fallen woman, weeks ago. In hindsight it was clear Susan had been sounding out her family, testing the possible reaction to revealing the truth. And every single one of them had told her she must on no account associate with that unfortunate girl. He had sent an anonymous donation, as promised, but that had been all.
Had Susan been right to keep her own counsel? It went completely against the grain to even contemplate the possibility.
Jeremy ordered his horse saddled and went for a gallop to clear his head. When he returned, two hours later, his anger had crystallised into icy resolve.
Susan and Abigail would be avenged.
Chapter 19
While Susan was supervising the newly hired staff in a thorough cleansing of the castle and drawing up a long shopping list of items like washing bowls, carpets, and a new stove, North rode along the cliff path, to call on his tenants. The news that he had come home with a rich bride would already have reached them, and after so many years of neglect his people would have near endless grievances and demands. The sooner he dealt with them the better.
His visits went much as anticipated. North barely managed to hide his shock at the derelict state of the roofs and outbuildings. He should have brought along pen and paper to make a list of all that needed to be done, but his tenants were not likely to let him forget anyway. He told each of them to prepare an estimate and present it to him in the castle, except for the most urgent work that could be ordered right away. The tally would come to at least two thousand pounds total, he estimated. Higher rents over the next five to ten years might return this investment or not, depending on weather and prices impossible to foresee now; but even if not, he owed his people decent living and working conditions. North resolved to look about for more secure income sources when next in town, while he still had some of Susan’s fortune left to invest.
Bill Jones, one of his tenants, had an unexpected suggestion. “Might you be thinking of reopening the mine, my lord?”
“Our tin mine? I supposed it to be exhausted. Why else would my grandfather have closed it down?”
Jones stared. “You don’t know, my lord? It was far from exhausted, but your grandfather blamed himself for the accident that cost ten good men their lives. It was not his fault, rather the overseer’s, if anyone’s. My great-uncle Burt lost his job when the mine was closed, and had to leave for the navy.”
North frowned. “You mean it’s still viable?” Had he not been casting about for a way to achieve financial independence? Was this the chance he needed?
“Of course it is. Some of the former workers are still alive – not many, because it was fifty years ago, but a few were still children when they worked there. Jim Belson is one of them. Ask him if there is any tin and silver left in our mine.”
North was silent for a few seconds. Young children labouring in the dark, deadly accidents … but his grandfather had been rich enough to close a viable mine for sentimental reasons. He could not afford to ignore such an asset, though no children would ever work there if he could help it.
“I’ll look into the possibility of re-opening the mine; maybe get some specialist to advise me as to profitability and cost. Thank you for bringing it up, Jones.”
“There are plenty of men willing to do any paid work in the parish. I could suggest several any time.”
“I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve made a decision.”
Returning homewards along the cliff path, North’s mind was busy with this unexpected prospect, imagining how the mine could affect the local economy, and what the cost of the necessary equipment might be.
He cantered at moderate pace since the day was warm, though as usual tempered by a fresh breeze from the sea. It rarely got truly sultry here.
A large fishing boat with the mast painted a bright blue was moored in a small bay formed by the cliffs, where he’d swum between the rocks as a boy. North idly wondered to whom this vessel might belong. Just as he was passing by it, a rifle shot rang out, chipping the stones under his bay’s hooves. The startled horse reared in panic, in the worst possible place, where the path passed perilously close to the cliff. His thoughts were wrenched back to the present by the imminent danger of falling onto the sharp rocks dotting the shoreline some thirty foot underneath.
Only his instant reaction, born of his long military experience and horsemanship, saved North from that fatal plunge. He had barely calmed the bay and was nudging him towards the safer parts of the path when a second shot rang out, but this time he was on his guard, and kept the horse under control.
The shots had come from the boat, he made no doubt. But why? Did the shooter know his identity, and more to the point, would he try again?
He could exclude his tenants from the list of suspects. It was in their best interest to have him alive, spending his new wealth here in his corner of Cornwall. The only person he knew of who truly resented him was Milla, but she was unlikely to be allied to this shooter. Though you never knew with her, North could not believe she would condone an attack on her brother’s life.
Inevitably his thoughts turned to London. Lord Barton, his brother-in-law, and Lord Fenton, Susan’s disappointed suitor, were the prime suspects that sprang to mind. Of these, Fenton was by far more likely. Barton was an honourable man, by all accounts – though only last year, that had been believed of Fenton as well, so for the time being North reserved judgement.
Should he tell Susan what had happened? Would she be worried? Theirs had been a marriage of convenience, especially on her side. Considering the circumstances that had led to their match, it might suit Susan and her family perfectly well if she were left widowed. After a suitable mourning period she would be able to make the brilliant marriage everyone had predicted for her. But surely he was not mistaken to feel that while her family might rejoice, Susan had developed some fondness for him over the past weeks, just as his own mild feelings for her had deepened.
Most men would not have told their young brides about such an attack, to spare them worry, but Susan would want to know if a dangerous enemy was close by. In case she was also a target, she needed to know. He would watch her carefully when he told her about the shots and try to gauge from her reaction how much she would mourn, if the next attack should prove more successful.
Whoever had tried to get rid of him this morning would likely try again. Nobody who came all this way with murderous intent would draw back after just one attempt.
North would not idly wait, however. He’d visit Sir Jermyn Crimpling, the local magistrate, that very afternoon, and mobilize the entire neighbourhood to discover the identity of the boat and the shooter.
Aiming from a lower point, on a moving deck, against the light, would not be easy even for a prime marksman. To kill by gunshot, in such a place, could only be construed as murder. Most likely the shot had landed exactly as intended, to spook the bay, as a fall from his horse would look like an unfortunate accident, and was far safer for the culprit.
He would not be caught off-guard again.
***
Over lunch Susan listened to North’s description of the incident with a stony expression. Only her eyes flashed dangerously, reassuring him that his wife was not indifferent to the prospect of being widowed.
“Whoever it was, we must catch him and see that he hangs.”
“Are you sure, Susan? What if he should turn out to be a member of your own family? Remember your brother’s threats on our wedding day.”
She shook her head impatiently. “That suspicion is completely absurd. Jeremy may hate you, but he is much too honourable for such an underhanded attack. None of my brothers would shed a tear if you died, but they would challenge you rather than do something sneaky like that. It must be Lord Fenton.”
“Would he come all this way for revenge? A sane man would get on with his life.”
“I cannot think of anyone else with a sufficient motive. Unless it is a local enemy of yours, or one from your army days?”
“Contrary to what you may believe, Susan, I did not go around making enemies right and left. I have far more friends than people who hate me.”
“I know.” She smiled at him. “So we are left with Fenton as the main suspect, and we already know he is capable of any villainy. Maybe he still hopes to win his wager; the year is far from over.”
“I should hope that you would at least wait the usual twelve months before remarriage, - and definitely not to him.”
“Pray don’t talk nonsense, North. Of course I would never marry Fenton, even were I free again, but I don’t even want to contemplate a future with another husband. I am perfectly satisfied with the one I have now.”
“Despite the dilapidated castle and the lack of amenities, and skilled staff?”
“Not despite them,” she said thoughtfully. “It is satisfactory to make such a great difference to a place, and to so many people. At home I had a useful function, but as one cog in a well-run machine. Here I can transform the whole. I enjoy the challenge of it.”
“I’m glad you feel like that. I had no right to expect it, and in fact did not believe that a delicate lady like you would exhibit such a practical spirit.”
“Delicate? Don’t insult me, North. Because I am used to better, I know exactly what I want to achieve, and will not stop before this has become a comfortable and even elegant home. Have I mentioned that the master bedroom is finally ready for occupation? I am looking forward to trying out the brand-new mattress and featherbeds.”
“So do I.” He bent down for a quick kiss. “I am glad you are satisfied by your current spouse, and shall do my best to survive a good many decades yet. After coming through the wars, one civilian rogue is not likely able to put an end to me.”
“I should hope not. If I were dissatisfied with my husband, that would throw doubt on my own good sense in picking him, or my taste,” Susan declared. “So never doubt that I am happy in my choice and new life, and not least, those interesting new activities you introduced to me. If I should become dissatisfied at any point in future, I shall not fail to let you know it. What about you – is married life as you expected?”
“Much better than that. I am very glad that I get to experience it with you, and not any other woman.” That was as close as he’d come to a declaration of his feelings yet. She nodded, clearly pleased at the implied compliment. Before they could continue, Milla burst into the room.
“Is it true that someone shot at you, North?”
“Yes, and it is customary to greet your family when you enter, Milla.”
“Hello,” she said shortly, her eyes never moving from his. “Who wants you dead?”
North shrugged. “I don’t know, but the fellow had a sizeable fishing boat moored in Pencruit bay. It has a bright blue mast. I doubt it can have been anyone local. We suspect it might have been a former suitor of Susan’s, who is angry that she picked me instead.”
Milla stared at Susan. “You think a man would kill for your sake? It hardly seems likely.”
“I don’t know,” Susan replied, “but as far as I am concerned, there is no good reason to kill, other than self-defence.”
“A boat, you say? I’ll see what I can find out.” Milla turned on her heels and strode away, in that unfeminine gait of hers.
“Be careful!” North called after her.
“That might actually be helpful,” he told Susan, “Milla knows every fisherman, every boat owner in the area. If the vessel made land anywhere close by, she is likely to find out who was on it.”
“At least she seemed concerned for your life,” Susan said, “that is a good sign. She is not as indifferent as she makes believe.”
“I find it hard to understand her,” North admitted. “And I wish she had not come in here just when she did. We were having a serious conversation, and I was not finished.”
“You mean how satisfactory we find married life? Why talk about it, when we show each other every night?” Susan smiled. “If you cannot tell that I am satisfied then, you must be duller than I take you for.”
“I find that after the danger of my ride, I am in need of more immediate reassurance,” North declared. “You said that the mattress in the master bedroom is ready for use? Maybe we should test it in daylight for a change.”
Susan bit her lips. “Now, in the middle of the day?”
“Why not?”
“No reason that I can see,” she said after a few moments’ thought, with that serious expression of hers. “Are we going to make a habit of this, North?”
“Depends on how much reassurance I may require,” he said. “If you need some at any time, just say that you need me to check on something, and I’ll be at your service right away.”
Susan nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
Chapter 20
Susan carefully placed one of the few cushions available in the castle on the bed of the chamber she and North had vacated just the previous day. She had come to check its readiness for Abby. Even with the single cushion, it looked distressingly spare and bare. In place of a vase – one of the many items on her shopping list – she had put a pewter mug from the kitchen on the mantelpiece, filled with meadow flowers. How else might she make the chamber more welcoming with the materials at hand?
“For whom are you preparing this room?” Milla stood in the doorway, watching Susan mistrustfully.
“My friend Abigail,” Susan replied, “I have invited her to join me for a visit. She is prone to colds, so it is important that her room be free of draughts, and easy to heat.”
“If she’s as sickly as all that, she’d better remain in town. Nobody wants her here.”
“Have I not just said that I invited her? When you have a good friend, you want them, no matter where.” Susan ignored the girl’s truculent look. “I’m glad to see you; I wanted to ask your advice.”
Milla glared at her out of those big blue eyes. “How unusual. I was under the impression that you are perfect and already know best on every single subject.”
“I do know a great many things,” Susan agreed, “because I have lived in London and various other places, and had a chance to observe how people go on there. But you have the advantage of me in local knowledge – and things like sailing and fishing, of which I’m ignorant
. Nobody is perfect.”
“So what advice could you want from me? About sailing?”
“Not at the moment. Rather, I need to find someone in the village to sew proper uniforms for the new staff. I can draw sketches, since I did not think to bring along samples, but who is able to do a proper job in a reasonable length of time?”
“Do you have enough fabric?”
“We’ll have to buy more. I am not sure who would be the best supplier.”
“Old Gorlock overcharged you on the wood and coal,” Milla said. “Everyone was laughing about it, that you were willing to pay London prices here.”
“Did he?” Susan shrugged. ”It is not unusual. People everywhere will try to take advantage. If you knew about it, why didn’t you warn your brother?”
“Why should I care if he wastes your blunt? It is nothing to do with me.”
“Maybe because North won’t be able to pay you an allowance, if the local tradespeople overcharge us on a regular basis?”
“An allowance?” Milla shook her head incredulously. “Edward never gave me a groat, and Marcus is just the same.”
“You are the only person I have ever heard use his given name,” Susan said, arrested. “Everyone calls him ‘North’.”
“I knew him when he was still a boy – although I was quite small myself. I suppose ‘North’ is what they called him in the army,” Milla said. “When he lived here before, it was Edward and Mark. But now I think on it, North suits him better.”
Susan made a mental note to find out which name her husband preferred. She had only heard North’s first name during the wedding ceremony.
“I have a suggestion,” she said. “Since you are so familiar with the local tradespeople and prices, I would like to leave the purchases and haggling to you. I am busy enough here in the house.”
“I knew it was not real, what you said about an allowance. Nobody has ever given me any money, not even for the work I did over all the years. The men of our family are mean and greedy and gamble everything away.”