“Cousin Charley!”
She had been aware of sounds behind her for several moments but had dismissed them as the cries of shore birds. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Letty galloping after her, alone.
Reining in, she waited until the child had drawn up beside her before she said, “You are supposed to ride with a groom, young lady. Where is Jeb?”
“I sent him to find Teddy,” Letty said, twinkling. She had come out without a hat, and her curls were windblown, her freckled cheeks the color of pink roses. “I saw you ride off alone,” she said, “so I thought you would not welcome Jeb’s company. Fortunately, Teddy had gone to his cottage, so I sent Jeb to ask him where you were going. I had seen from my window that you were headed toward the cliff path, so I just rode off when Jeb left the yard. Are you vexed with me? Must I go back?”
Just then Jeremiah’s small head popped out from beneath Letty’s cloak. The quizzical look on his face was so much a reflection of his mistress’s expression that Charley smiled. “I guess we all need to escape for a while,” she said. “We’ll deal with the consequences later.”
“Good,” Letty said. “Where are we going?”
“Just along the cliffs,” Charley said; “I did think I might just …” She hesitated, thinking now that her notion had probably not been such a good one, after all.
“Did you want to see where the accident occurred?” Letty asked. “I thought about that when we were looking down at St. Merryn’s beach this morning.”
Charley glanced at her ruefully. “Would you mind?”
“No, for this morning was not the first time I’ve wondered about it. Can we get down to the Devil’s Sand on horseback?”
“There is a trail of sorts. Melissa and I rode down sometimes when we were children. It is not as good as either of the two paths leading down to St. Merryn’s Bay, but we can manage. We’ll have to hurry though, or we’ll be awfully late getting back.”
“Perhaps they won’t even know we’ve gone,” Letty said. “I was helping Grandmama and Cousin Ethelinda settle into their new rooms when Cousin Edythe came in and looked down her nose at me as if I had been a toad. She said little girls ought to be in the schoolroom at such an hour. When I asked, very politely, what I ought to do there, since my governess did not accompany me from Paris, she said she wondered that you had not seen what an imposition it is to have a little girl foisted onto the household at such an inauspicious time. I loathe being called a little girl.”
“So did I. When I was your age, nothing could more quickly put up my back.”
“I do not think that Cousin Edythe remembered that Grandpapa Jervaulx is a marquess, either, until Medrose called me ‘your ladyship,’ which he practically never does. He said it as if he were addressing a royal duchess, too. Even then, Cousin Edythe just said she hoped I could amuse myself because she wasn’t accustomed to entertaining little girls.”
“Utterly loathsome,” Charley said sympathetically.
“Yes. That’s when I made my curtsy and fled to my room, for although Mr. Gabriel had gone and Cousin Alfred had retired to the library after lunch, Rockland and Cousin Elizabeth were talking in the morning room. He was commiserating with her. I don’t know why, but he did say, as if he were joking with her, you know, that Mr. Gabriel had been making dreadful sheep’s eyes at her all through luncheon. So, even though I couldn’t imagine Mr. Gabriel doing such a thing, I did not think they would welcome me, exactly. Besides, I knew Jeremiah would be missing me,” she added, reaching inside her cloak to stroke the monkey.
“You were probably wise to leave them alone,” Charley said, glad Letty had not overheard enough to understand why Rockland was comforting Elizabeth. They cantered after that, alternating their paces so as not to tire the horses. When they reached the cliffs above St. Merryn’s Bay, she saw with astonishment that no sign of the wrecked ship remained. The beach was empty, and the tide was in.
Not long after that they reached the headland, but when Letty would have turned toward Seacourt House, Charley stopped her. “The trail to the beach is farther along the cliff road, darling. I don’t think there is a safe way down the east side of the headland, and with the tide in, we cannot ride around the point. You’ll see more clearly how it is when we ride on.”
Ten minutes later, Letty gave a shudder and said, “This side of the headland is just steep black cliffs and scree. I’m ever so glad I didn’t see it in full daylight before. If I’d known what it was like when I was trying to move about in the dark, I think perhaps even my sensibilities might have been stirred to quaking.”
“Here’s the trail now,” Charley said. “Let your horse pick its own way.”
“I know.”
They remained silent as they cautiously followed the zigzag trail down to the central portion of the beach. Then they turned their mounts back toward Seacourt Head. The shingle was bare, without a sign of the wrecked carriage or the dead horses.
“I know men brought the … that is, that they brought back Uncle Charles and Aunt Davina, and the coachman,” Letty said in a puzzled tone, “but surely—”
“I, too, thought there would be signs of the wreckage,” Charley said. “Maybe scavengers came here, as well, and bore off what was left.”
“Mowysy tek,” said a rough voice behind them. “Hag mergh da kekefrys.”
Turning, they saw four men, ruffians with unshaven faces, standing on the shingle behind them. The noise of the waves and cries of gulls had covered the sound of their approach. That Charley had not seen them before did not surprise her, however. She knew from experience that the cliff face was riddled with caves, many large enough for a number of men to lie hidden.
Though she did not recognize any of them, she said calmly, “I understand quite enough Cornish to know that you are being impertinent. Do you know who I am?”
“Can’t say we do, lass,” the one who had spoken said. “Makes no never mind, though. All I said was you be pretty girls wi’ pretty horses, which we could see at once. We’ll be knowing you both much better before we tire of ye, I’m thinking.”
“I am Charlotte Tarrant, granddaughter of the Earl of St. Merryn, and this is my cousin, Lady Letitia Deverill. You interfere with us at your peril.”
“Seems to me we heard the old earl had a palsy stroke, and his son died afore him,” the ruffian said. He exchanged a look of amusement with the others that made Charley wonder if they could be the highwaymen responsible for the carriage accident.
She could not think of that now. Quietly, she said, “It is true that both my father and grandfather are dead, but their heir has arrived at Tuscombe Park, and you would be foolish to anger him. Moreover, my cousin is also granddaughter to the Marquess of Jervaulx.” Seeing at once from their expressions that she had made a mistake, she carefully slipped a hand under her cloak, which concealed the saddle holster from view. At the same time, to divert the leader’s attention, she said evenly, “If you know of me, you must know that my horses have been particularly well trained. You will not be able to ride them unless I command it.”
The leader was licking his lips, however. He said thoughtfully, “The marquess, eh? I remember him. Gone to Gloucestershire, howsomever, so he don’t trouble me none. Expect he’d pay a tidy sum to get his little lass back though, wouldn’t he, lads?”
“Aye,” they said in chorus, beginning to move closer to Charley and Letty.
The pistol now firmly in hand, Charley withdrew it and aimed it directly at the leader. “I can shoot the pips out of a playing card at a greater distance than this,” she said grimly. “Stand back now, and tell your friends to let us pass.”
“You’ll only get one of us, lass,” the man said, putting his hands on his hips.
“Will you care how many I shoot if you are the first to fall dead?”
He hesitated. The others, clearly doubting that she would shoot, began to sidle away from him, edging around behind her. She held the pistol steady, hoping to convince them she would sho
ot him, and wishing she had brought more than one pistol.
Chattering excitedly, Jeremiah poked his head out from Letty’s cloak.
All four men gaped at him. Letty steadied her nervous horse.
The leader said, “What in the name of the Virgin be that?”
“A monkey,” Letty said. “He is very tame. Would you like to shake his hand?”
Fascinated, the four seemed too frightened to approach nearer, especially when Jeremiah climbed to her shoulder. One said, “Think I seen one of them at a fair once.”
Hearing barking from farther up the beach, Charley glanced briefly away from the men to see a rider approaching at a canter on a buttermilk-colored horse, preceded by a shaggy black and white dog.
Chapter Six
THE DOG RACED EXCITEDLY around the horse, then dashed toward them, only to stop in its tracks when Matois whistled. Apparently recognizing him, the four ruffians stepped back a pace or two and waited until he drew near.
One of the men said with scorn, “Can tell the Frenchman ain’t no fisherman, a-whistling like that this close to the sea. Thanks be to God, it ain’t nightfall!”
“Clear out, you lot,” Jean Matois said evenly as he drew rein. “You’ve more important business at hand than to be annoying les demoiselles.”
“Listen to him,” another of the men sneered, pushing his own nose in the air with one finger. “Don’t he sound a proper gent?”
Matois looked at him, and the man fell silent, finding sudden interest in his feet.
The leader said, “Don’t take no pet now, Frenchman. The lad meant no harm. We was just admiring the ladies’ horses, and they was a-showing us that strange beast what the little ’un’s wearing on her shoulder. Never seen the like afore.”
“Well, now you have, mon ami, so be on your way. I will see les jeunes filles safely back to the road.” His accent had thickened noticeably.
“You do that, Frenchman,” the chief ruffian said. He stepped back, gesturing for the others to do likewise.
“After you, mesdemoiselles.”
Silently Charley returned her pistol to its holster and urged her horse toward the path to the road. The dog, she noted, trotted gaily at Annabelle’s heels.
Letty tucked Jeremiah back under her cloak. Charley had seen her smile at Jean Matois in welcome, but the smile soon faded in the face of his heavy frown. Since Charley likewise felt disinclined to enter into conversation with him, they rode back to the cliff top in near silence. It lasted only until they reached the road, however.
“You were fools to have come here alone,” Matois said as he guided Annabelle in beside Charley’s horse. “Surely you must know about the wreck this morning. All manner of people have been clambering about on these cliffs.”
“We saw them,” Letty said. “We saw you rescue the dog, too, but we did not tell anyone that we knew you.”
“So you do have some sense.” He glanced at the dog, presently chasing a butterfly that flitted just beyond reach of its snapping teeth.
Charley said, “He seems to have adopted you.”
“Yes. He’s a lunatic, lean-witted fool, and I’m a relenting one. I call him Sebastian, after Viola’s shipwrecked twin in Twelfth Night.”
She chuckled. Then, seeing him frown again, she said quickly, defensively, “I knew the scavengers would be gone by now. They don’t hang about after they’ve been wrecking, for fear the Lloyd’s agent or a customs rider will confiscate their booty.”
“Nonetheless, you were fools to ride down onto Devil’s Sand without so much as a groom to protect you,” he said bluntly. “And don’t try to cozen me into believing your father or grandfather allowed you to do such things. I won’t believe you.”
“A gentleman does not contradict a lady,” Letty murmured, astonishing Charley so much that she did not blurt out the annihilating retort that had leapt to her tongue.
Matois said, “Since I am no gentleman, ma petite, such strictures do not silence me. Even if your cousin happens to be accustomed to riding about on her own, she should not have brought you, not without more protection than she can provide.”
“We were in no danger,” Charley snapped. “I had my pistol, and as you saw, those men feared Jeremiah.” When Matois looked at her with much the same flintlike expression he had directed at the ruffians, she shifted uncomfortably. She knew she had been wrong to leave Teddy behind, and even more mistaken to have encouraged Letty to escape Jeb. She looked away, unable to meet that stern gaze any longer.
Gently, Matois said, “Just how many bullets does your pistol hold?”
“Two, but I have more in a pocket stitched to my saddle.”
“Excellent. I feel sure they would willingly have waited for you to reload.”
Charley bit her lower lip, then grimaced and tossed her head, saying, “How loathsome you are. I daresay you are quite right, however, at least in saying that I should not have let Letty accompany me. The truth is, however, that unrest has long been a fact of life in Cornwall. One either learns to deal with it, or one stays indoors, wrapped in cotton wool. I frequently ride alone, especially when I am in a temper, and have done since I was a child.”
Meeting his gaze again, and reading disbelief in his expression, she added ruefully, “You are right when you say Grandpapa and Papa did not approve, but in truth, they scarcely ever noticed my absences. On those rare occasions when Papa decided to act like a parent, I suffered the consequences, but being rare, they did not deter me for long. Papa’s attention span, where I was concerned, was short.” Pushing thoughts of her father to the nethermost region of her mind, she drew a breath, looked Matois in the eye, and said firmly, “I learned long ago to trust my pistol, my name, and my wits to protect me.”
“I see.” They were riding three abreast by then, and Jeremiah chose that moment to poke his head out again from Letty’s cloak. With scarcely a pause, the monkey jumped to Jean Matois’s saddle. As Matois shifted so the monkey could hunker down between his legs, its forepaws resting on the pommel, he said to Letty, “And your papa, ma petite. Does he also pay no heed to what you do?”
“No, sir. He would be vexed, I think, if he knew what we had done today.”
Charley, remembering times in the past when she had vexed Letty’s papa—or had been present when her Aunt Daintry had vexed him—experienced a sudden vision of Gideon Deverill that was not at all comforting. Worse was to come, however.
Letty said in a small voice, “Perhaps I had better not mention this particular incident when next I write to them at home.”
Taking a deep breath, Charley said, “Of course, you may tell them, darling. Just be sure you add that your Cousin Charley has at last learned the lesson your papa tried to teach her when she was just about your age. We will always take our grooms after this. You must be sure to say, too, just how Jeremiah frightened those men. That will make your papa laugh. Then, perhaps, he will not be so vexed.” Encountering a twinkle from Matois’s eyes, she grimaced rudely at him.
He chuckled. “Am I mistaken, mon ange, or do you have a healthier respect for le père de la petite than you had for your grandfather or your father?”
“Gideon has a way of making people mind him,” Charley said, smiling across him at Letty. “Your words, and Letty’s, made me remember that little fact just now, but I think even Gideon would admit that I am generally able to look after myself.”
“I am sure that you are.”
She looked at him, searching his expression for irony or mockery, but he seemed perfectly sincere. He caught her gaze and held it until she felt unaccustomed heat in her cheeks. Then he said thoughtfully, “You said a moment ago that you frequently ride off alone when you are in a temper.”
“I did say that.” She eyed him warily.
“Was that the case today?”
She looked straight ahead. “If you mean to tell me that people who act hastily and in an emotional dither are unlikely to use good judgment, I don’t want to hear it.”
�
��I’m not surprised. What a coxcomb you must think me to believe I would say such things to you, even if they were true.”
She looked at him again, but he met the look easily, and this time her sense of humor stirred. Smiling wryly, she said, “I suppose you think you are very clever.”
“Not at all. You have just proved that you are as intelligent and sensible as you claim to be. I have no need to tell you what you already know, mon ange. But that is not why I stirred these coals. I want to know why you were in a temper. I have heard, by the bye, that your grandfather died suddenly. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. The news of my father’s death, and my mother’s, proved too great a shock for him,” she added. “But if you know of his death, perhaps you also have heard that the new heir arrived yesterday.”
He did not respond at once, and for a moment she thought she had surprised him. But he said only, “I had not heard that. I merely wondered what fool would upset you after all you have so recently endured. You say he arrived yesterday?”
“Yes, and it’s not just one person but five. Mr. Alfred Tarrant brought his wife, Edythe, his two children, and his sister Elizabeth.”
Letty said, “The children are still in leading strings, sir, and not particularly amusing.” With a sigh, she added, “Most unfortunately, Cousin Edythe seems to think I ought to spend my time helping the nursery maid mind them.”
“Does she? So you do not approve of these interlopers either, ma petite?” Jeremiah sprawled across his upper thigh now, dozing.
Letty said, “It is not my business to approve or disapprove, sir. But I must say, I like Lord Rockland much better than any of the Norfolk Tarrants. Although,” she added thoughtfully, “Cousin Elizabeth seems pleasant enough, even if she does believe that men are all-knowing and that females must always look to them for guidance.”
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