by Burnett, May
All in all it was a dismal and highly uncertain prospect. She would keep her eye out for a likely chance, and act quickly and ruthlessly if necessary. Anything to get out from under her new sister-in-law’s thumb. She’d find a husband she could dominate, and be mistress of her own establishment, able to do whatever she might want without anyone’s permission or interference.
Her eyes caught a glimpse of her worn-out sabots and the high hems of her drab brown skirts, and she laughed bitterly. Who was she fooling? Her odds of marrying a gentleman were a hundred to one, if not worse. Unless she kidnapped and coerced someone, which would invalidate the marriage, she’d heard. There had been a case in Penzance …
But enough of this dreary subject. The sea was calling to Milla. She had single-handedly fed the few remaining souls at the castle with her boat and nets, when Edward was off gambling and drinking, and she’d never received any recognition for her hard work and ability. Her brother and Susan only saw her as a problem, a burden.
She’d show them. Beginning with the capture of this man who had tried to kill her brother.
If the villain knew who would be riding along the cliff path he had to have come ashore, and made enquiries among the local population, but none of them had talked of it to Milla. They were a close-mouthed bunch, what with the tradition of smuggling along this coast; but if she could not get them to talk, a stranger would have found them far more reticent.
Had he been observing the castle and its denizens himself, possibly with a spyglass? If so, what would be the best place from which to do so? Her eye fell on Mericuick Hill, on the other side of the valley. Though no higher than the castle, it was nearly equal in elevation, and from the top one could survey the cliff path, most of the valley in which the Northcotes’ tenants were located, and the side of the castle served by the road.
As Milla sailed and fished, she kept trying to second-guess her brother’s enemy. Did he want to abduct Susan? If so, should she let him? He could hardly accomplish this aim without going through her brother. Even if he carried Susan off in a sneak attack, North would never rest till he got her back. What had Susan done to deserve that loyalty? If it were Milla to be carried off, would anybody care? … Better not go there. Her best course was to prevent the whole before it happened, even if it meant rendering a service to her ungrateful family.
Milla could prevail against most men of ordinary size and strength, but against a stranger of unknown abilities, reinforcements would only be prudent, and easy enough to recruit with the promise of money, - that allowance might come in useful after all.
Accordingly, after returning and distributing her catch to some of the more needy households – now that she no longer had to worry about feeding herself and her staff – she sought out an old childhood companion.
“Jem, I need you and two other stout lads for a job. I can pay you.”
“That’s all right, Miss Milla.” Jem was only nineteen, but towered over her. His large body was all muscle, from battling the waves and hauling in the heavy nets. “What do you need?”
“To catch a blackguard. Have you heard that someone shot at my brother’s horse when he was on top of the cliff path? I take objection to anyone who threatens my family.”
“But how do you know who he is? The lord already asked around, and nobody knew anything about the strange boat with a blue mast. We would have spoken up, nobody wants your brother killed now he finally brings some money and sets things to rights on his estate.”
Milla nodded; that was what she had thought also. “Whoever might be aiming to harm my brother or his wife must have come ashore at some point, asked questions, and I suspect spied on us, maybe from Mericruik Hill. It is the obvious place.”
“Then someone from Dennoden might have seen him,” Jem said, considering. “That’s the easiest direction to approach the hilltop. In that case, little wonder if none of us have heard. We don’t like to associate with those people.”
“Nonetheless I shall ask there,” Milla declared. “The obvious place is the inn in Dennoden. But if I run into this man, it would be good to have help.”
“Yes indeed, a slight girl like you, Miss Milla – ,“ Jem grinned at seeing her colour rise dangerously. “A stranger would not know enough to be careful of you, I was going to say.”
“Can you follow me with Matt and Andrew?” Jem’s cousins were slightly older and even huskier than he.
“Easily enough. It might lead to a row, of course, but we can take on those weaklings in Dennoden any time. You want to go tonight? It’s already near five, but we could be there by boat in forty minutes.”
“No sense in putting it off.” A momentary doubt assailed Milla. Should she dress in something more elegant than her fishing clothes, redolent of cod and mackerel? But a reconnaissance mission, or even – if she got lucky - dealing with a villain was hardly the same as going to a ball.
Chapter 22
The Dennoden innkeeper recognized Miss Milla at once. Although there was little contact between the two villages, Lord Northcote’s sister was notorious in the whole area. He wordlessly handed her a tankard of ale, pretending not to notice that she was a woman in a room full of hard-drinking farmers and fishermen. Well, except for the odd man out, the tall stranger who was sitting in a corner drinking heavily, as he’d done for the last two nights.
When Miss Milla took her tankard over to the corner and joined the stranger, the innkeeper was alarmed, but she had the reputation of being able to take care of herself. Besides, not a minute after her, three stout lads from Ulmers entered the inn and sat at a bench from where they could observe her. So she’d not come alone. Hopefully there would not be a fight. A couple of the more hot-headed local lads were looking at the newcomers as though thinking of starting something.
The innkeeper passed by Rob, the leader of that particular pack. “They are here for the stranger, and to protect Miss Milla,” he murmured. “If you want to fight them, wait until they have done their business with him. It should be interesting to see how it turns out.”
Rob squinted as he looked around the crowded barroom. “Ah.” He nodded heavily, and the innkeeper went back to serving, hoping for the best.
***
“Who or what are you?” The tall stranger’s blue eyes passed derisively over Milla’s figure, to stop for a moment, arrested, at her face. “A girl in here and nobody cares?” His voice was slightly slurred, but had the plummy accents of the expensively educated upper class. All Milla’s senses went on high alert.
“Never mind who I am – who are you?” She let her eyes pass over the man’s form as boldly as he had just done to her. Size alone did not impress her, but even though he had presumably dressed down for this modest place, he exuded class and wealth.
“Robert Molton,” he said curtly. “Is that ale you are drinking?”
She took a deep draught of the drink, familiar enough. “Yes, why not?”
“I suppose it’s safer than the water here.” He leered at her, and she realised he was more drunk than she’d guessed. “So why are you here?” He did not speak as though he were passionately interested in the answer, rather as though her unexplained presence were a pesky fly exercising his dulled wits against his will.
Milla shrugged. “Normal rules don’t apply to me.” It was true enough, and would remain so if she had anything to say about it – no matter how her brother and Susan disliked it.
“Why is a pretty girl like you dressed in such hideous rags?” He looked at her bodice and crinkled his nose. “Have you been selling or cooking fish?”
She flushed slightly. “Is there anything wrong with that?” No need to tell him that she’d been catching the fish instead, in her very own boat. The more he underestimated her, the better.
“You are even more unlikely in this place, than I,” she persisted. “Why is a gentleman like of your standing frequenting this humble inn? Is it the ale?” She took another sip. “Tastes no better or worse than anywhere else to me.”<
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Molton looked at her drowsily. “How much for one night?” he asked abruptly. “After a bath, mind you. I don’t like the smell of fish in bed.”
Milla’s grip on her tankard tightened; she nearly dumped it over the fellow’s head. But he was drunk and did not know any better. She ought to take advantage of his inebriated state if she wanted to find out if he was her quarry, as she strongly suspected. Personal feelings had to be put aside – for the time being. She’d get her revenge on this boor in good time.
“Why, are you saying you find me attractive?” She batted her lashes. Was she doing it right? Milla was not used to playing the seductress. The three stout bodyguards sitting almost close enough to listen bolstered her confidence. “But we hardly know each other. What are you doing here in our village?”
“Nothing that could interest you. What’s your name?”
“Milly,” she replied, changing her name only slightly. “You’d be surprised at what I find interesting. You are a very interesting man.” She boldly ran her eyes over him once more, hoping he would take it for flattering interest. He did have nice broad shoulders, and the tailoring of his old jacket did them full justice.
“If I were to agree to lie with you,” she said baldly, “where would you take me? My own home is not suitable, there are five other people under my roof.”
He drank a bit more. “Not a professional then? So much the better.” He threw her an appraising glance. “I have a boat. The bunk is not too big, though.”
Milla hid her triumph. A boat! He was almost certainly the man who had shot at her brother. Maybe her cleverness would at last be acknowledged when she delivered him to the castle bound and gagged. “I am pretty nimble.”
What had she said? His gaze turned more heated as he looked her over in a way she did not like at all. “I suppose you are. Two guineas, take it or leave it.”
Milla gnawed her lips in indecision, only partly feigned. But she had to get him away from this crowd, and see if the ship was the one her brother had described, with a blue main mast. That would be proof enough to hit him over the head and take him prisoner. She cast a swift sideways glance at her three protectors. Two were looking into their glasses, but Jem was alert, watching her every move. There really was no danger.
“Very well,” she said. “Where is your boat? I can go and bathe at home and join you there in an hour.”
“You can do it on board. I shall like watching you naked in my tub.” There was a gleam in his blue eyes she did not like at all. While she was trying to think of an acceptable excuse, he threw a coin on the table – overpaying, even if he included her own drink, - and roughly grasped her by the arm. “Let’s go right now.”
Milla rose obediently, discreetly gesturing to Jem. As she left the barroom with the stranger she saw Jem and his cousins settle their tab – they would be after her in a moment. She slowed her gait. The man still holding her arm was swaying on his big feet. He was likely no great challenge as long as he was this drunk, but it seemed better not to make a scene in front of all these people who knew perfectly well who she was.
He led her in the direction of a secluded cove some two miles beyond Dennoden – so that’s where he must have moored his boat. There really was no reason to go all the way. She stopped walking. “I have changed my mind. Let me go – I find I don’t want to lie with you. I don’t like drunkards.”
He did not release her arm, and laughed unpleasantly. “Too late, girl. You think you can tease and then leave me? Others have caught cold at that.” They had left the village behind and were out of view after a turn in the path; he swung her around to face him. “Might as well get a taste of what I’m buying.” His mouth roughly pressed on hers and tried to invade it with his ale-sodden tongue.
Milla reacted instinctively, raking his face with her fingernails, drawing blood in four distinct streaks from just under his left eye to the chin. Before she could bring her knee up to his private parts – a move Jem had once shown her, supposedly useful in such situations – the man was roughly torn from Milla, leaving her stumbling. A moment later Jem’s, Andrew’s and Matt’s fists pelted him like three jackhammers.
He got in a couple of hits back, and but for the alcohol in his blood might have given a better account of himself. As it was, Milla watched the pummelling in silent satisfaction.
“Better stop now – he’s unconscious, we don’t want to actually kill him.” She had to repeat herself, loudly, to get the three men to heed her.
“We could always say he had been assaulting you, and it was in your defence,” Jem objected. He was not even out of breath. “Who would miss a fellow like that?”
“He is a gentleman, at least by speech, and I suspect rich,” Milla said. “And I was rather leading him on. He was taking me to his boat, which must be moored in the cove over there. I need to see it, to be sure that this is the man who shot at my brother.”
“Let’s have a look now – he’s not going anywhere,” Jem suggested. Their victim was still breathing, but did not look as though he’d rise anytime soon, from the combined effect of alcohol and the beating … He looked like a dead drunk after an encounter with some wild feline, a leopard maybe. Milla glanced at her fingernails, sticky with his blood. She had better wash when she got the chance.
Since daylight would soon be gone, they hurried along. A fishing boat was indeed moored where they expected. A skiff waited on the shore.
“I want to see the mast more closely,” Milla decided, getting into the skiff. She trailed her hands in the salty water for a minute, as Jem joined her and took the oars; the skiff was too small for all four of them.
“Thanks for being there so quickly,” Milla said in a low voice to her friend, as they pulled off. “It was nasty when he tried to kiss me, and he was not going to stop there.”
“You marked him pretty badly,” he said gruffly. “I doubt he’s going to relish those stripes in his face when he gets to a mirror. If he’s a murderous bastard as you think – beg your pardon, Miss Milla – he might come after you too.”
“He won’t get the chance,” Milla said confidently.
As they approached the boat, she could see that the mast indeed corresponded to her brother’s description. They halted the skiff at a prudent distance. “It should have at least three or four men aboard,” Jem estimated.
Even as they looked, they were hailed from the boat. “Why are you using our skiff? Where is Mr. Molton?”
Drawing closer, they made out a worried-looking skipper at the railing. There was just enough light left to make out his pale features.
“He fell ill from too much drink,” Jem answered, “we were just checking if this is where he belongs.”
“Yes, he hired my boat. You say he is ill? Who are you?”
“Just good Samaritans,” Jem said with a grin. “My sister and I are hoping for a reward if we bring him here. Is he as rich as he sounds?”
“Rich enough,” the skipper confirmed, “he thinks nothing of having my boat hanging around here for weeks on end, without doing any fishing.”
“We’ll bring him aboard, then,” Jem offered.
“You do that. We’ll get his bunk ready. But as for a reward, you’ll have to take your chances when he’s sober again.”
“Fair enough.” Jem turned the skiff with the ease of lifelong practice and rowed back towards the gravelly shore.
Milla’s thoughts were racing. What should she do now?
It took longer to reach the shore, against the tide. Almost an hour had passed by the time they made their way back to the place where the stranger had remained in the path, just outside Dennoden village.
A number of people with lanterns crowded around his prone figure. They stopped well away. “Drat,” Milla said, “I suppose it was too much to hope for Molton to remain there undiscovered. You had best let me deal with the matter.”
“I don’t know,” Jem said dubiously. “We did nothing wrong, after all. And it might be for the best that
nobody should connect you with the matter, Miss.”
“Half Dennoden saw me leave with the man,” Milla said impatiently. “They would have to be blind and deaf not to realize what happened to him. It will be best if you three keep out of the way, though. Oh no! Is that Sir Jermyn Crimpling?”
The stout justice of the peace should have been dining at his home, some four miles distant, not standing there on the road looking at the felled man. Since he knew her as well as she knew him, Milla approached, while her companions in crime unobtrusively mingled with the bystanders.
“Miss Northcote,” the elderly magistrate said in a resigned voice. “I had already heard you had been seen in the vicinity. Is it true that you departed the inn in the company of this fellow?”
“Yes,” Milla admitted. “He said it was unseemly for a young lady to be there, and insisted on escorting me home.” Would Sir Jermyn point out that she was hardly dressed as a young lady?
“In this direction?”
“He was too drunk to know the difference. When he tried to take liberties, I had to defend myself.” She shrugged. “It is his own fault; he should have minded his own business.”
The magistrate eyed the four bloody streaks on the formerly handsome face, now slowly scabbing over, and winced. “I suppose it will serve as a warning to anyone else trying such liberties with you, though even as self-defence, it’s not behaviour becoming to a young lady of your birth, Miss Northcote.” There was a stern note to Sir Jermyn’s voice. Milla scowled.
“I suspected him of being the man who shot at my brother’s horse the other day.”
“In that case, why did you go with him, if there were more than a dozen men you could have called upon to help you?”
“As I said, he claimed he was just escorting me home.” It sounded unlikely, as the way home overland was well over an hour, over stony and difficult terrain. Sir Jermyn would know she was not here without her boat.