Carefully, quietly, he made his way toward the nearest trail up the cliff. Then a familiar voice spoke out of the shadows. “I thought you’d come this way, Sir Antony.”
Charley heard the commotion below. She could see more lights at sea, and many more at the end of the beach. Gunshots sounded, first one, then sporadic echoes, enough to make her fear again for Antony’s life. Silence followed. She peered through the darkness, but the distant lanterns cast little if any light onto the trail, and the stirring breeze made it hard to tell if anyone was moving nearby. Her skin prickled, and her heart thumped. Desperate to know who was in command on the beach, she held her pistol at the ready, feeling both afraid to move and afraid to stay where she was.
Even in her habit skirt, she knew she would be unable to descend safely without a light if she kept her pistol in hand, but she was determined not to put it down. Thinking that if she could command a broader view of the beach, she could perhaps discern what was happening, she stood up at last. Then, taking care to make no sound, and moving with extreme care, she took a few steps toward the trail.
Noise of sliding stones stopped her in her tracks. Squinting, trying to pierce the darkness ahead, she waited, breathless, hoping against hope that it would be Oakes or Gabriel who came. She made no sound, certain that either of them would speak first to reassure her of her safety. The approaching figure said not a word. Moreover, he moved furtively, as if he were afraid of ambush.
“Halt,” she commanded fiercely, “or I’ll shoot.”
“Angel, if you put a bullet in me, I’ll be even angrier than I am right now, so I’d strongly advise you not to do it.”
Lowering the pistol, she flung herself at him, crying, “You’re safe! I was so afraid they might have—”
“Not yet they haven’t,” Michael Peryllys snapped from above them at the same moment Antony caught her in his arms. “But he’s a dead man now, madam, and so, I’m afraid, are you. Step away from him. Now. Good evening, Sir Antony, or are you Jean Matois tonight, or perhaps even the infamous Le Renardeau?”
Startled, Charley whirled in Antony’s arms and saw Michael’s menacing figure shadowed against the few stars overhead. Without a second thought, she raised her pistol and fired. An echoing shot answered hers harmlessly as the figure fell forward and rolled. Before either of them could move to stop it, it pitched over the edge.
Gasping with shock, she stared at Antony and said, “I didn’t realize he was so close to the edge. How did he know you are Le Renardeau?”
“I don’t know that he did,” Antony said grimly. “He was more likely flinging darts in hopes of hitting a mark.” He drew a long breath, then added, “By God, madam, if I were a man of violence, or even a sensible one, I’d put you across—”
“I just saved your life!”
“At a considerable risk to your own.” Grabbing her shoulders hard, he shook her and snapped, “How dared you leave the house tonight of all nights!”
To her astonishment, Charley found that she did not mind being shaken, particularly since he pulled her tight against him afterward and held her. He was breathing hard, as if he had been running. A moment later, he muttered against her curls, “Give me that damned pistol before you shoot one of us in the foot.”
Obeying, she said, “What should we do about Michael? I suppose I ought to feel quite dreadful at having killed him—at least … He must be dead, mustn’t he?”
Antony said harshly, “You can be sure that he is. No one could survive—” He broke off on an odd, hesitant note, as if he had remembered something.
“What? Do you know of someone who did survive a fall like that?”
With no more man a brief hesitation he replied firmly, “No. Michael is dead, angel, never fear. I’ll have to go back down and tell Oakes what happened here, but I cannot take you with me. Will you be all right here for another few moments? With Michael dead, you’ve nothing more to fear, but you’d best keep out of sight.”
“I don’t know that there’s nothing more to fear,” she said, wishing she could read the expression on his face. “Are you still angry with me?”
“We’ll talk about that when we get home.”
“What about Wellington?”
This time his hesitation was clear, and when he spoke there was amusement in his voice. “Damned if I didn’t forget him! Still, I’ve time enough to take you home and get back to Fowey to meet his ship. If there ever was a threat against him, the danger is past now, but he will expect a full report from me before we depart for Truro.”
“We’ll both meet his ship,” Charley said matter-of-factly.
“Will we?”
“We will. Not knowing exactly what would happen tonight, I arranged for Jeb and Teddy to take Letty on to Tuscombe Park without me. She has Jenifry with her, so she is content, and Alfred and Edythe won’t miss me. They will be taking a number of carriages, you know, and Aunt Ophelia will be glad to keep an eye on Letty.”
“Stay here,” Antony commanded. “We’ll talk about this after I tell Oakes how Michael Peryllys happened to collect a bullet and throw himself to the beach.”
“That bullet’s in his black heart,” Charley said, “if he had a heart.”
But Antony had already gone, and she heard his retreating footsteps, slipping and sliding down the steep path.
Chapter Twenty-two
BY THE TIME ANTONY returned, Charley had begun to wonder if he had run into trouble, but when she saw that James Gabriel accompanied him with a lantern, she relaxed. Gabriel said anxiously, “I hope you were not frightened here by yourself, ma’am. I could scarcely credit my ears when Sir Antony said he had left you alone.”
Charley smiled. “I told you, he is a reasonable man, sir.” Hoping that her words would act upon Antony in the same way that Oakes’s trust had affected her earlier, she added with amusement, “I am not afraid of the dark, you know.”
“Well, as to that, ma’am, I must say that if you had been my wife or daughter”—his voice seemed to catch, but he recovered quickly—“I would not be so sanguine at finding you here at such a time, as Sir Antony appears to be. Indeed, I was astonished to learn that he was below on the beach. That skirmish was no place for a gentleman, though I confess that if Oakes had not identified him for me, I would have taken him for one of the wreckers, myself. One must admire his zeal, but you will admit that his action was foolhardy. Do you know those villains originally planned to capture the Duke of Wellington? I talked to one of them, and he confessed straight out that they intended to hold His Grace to ransom, and failing that, to assassinate him! I don’t doubt they would have killed you as well, Sir Antony, had they caught you.”
“Do you think so, indeed?” Antony said. Despite his grubby appearance, he had reverted to the haughty drawl that had served him so well. He went on, “I hardly knew myself what I was about, Gabriel, so it was a damned good thing Oakes had everything in hand. When the excitement began I nearly tripped over my own two feet in my haste to escape. Fortunately, knowing I would be there, Oakes took it upon himself to watch for me at the foot of the path. I own, though, when he stepped out of the darkness and spoke my name, I nearly screeched like a Scotch banshee out of sheer terror.”
Charley said soulfully, “I think you were very brave, sir.” Feeling his hand at her elbow, she expected for a moment that he might take advantage of the darkness to pinch her for her impudence, but he did not. He grasped her arm, and although his fingers tightened warningly, they would leave no bruises.
He said dryly, “Thank you, my love. It is ever my aim to impress you, and now that all danger has passed …”
“As to that,” Gabriel said when he paused, “I am not sure that all danger has passed. Certainly, with that murdering scoundrel Michael Peryllys dead and gone, Cornwall is a safer place, but there are many others like him. I need hardly remind you that that French scoundrel, Le Renardeau, is still on the loose.”
“Just who is this chap?” Antony demanded. “I find it ha
rd to believe that such a rascal could flit around Cornwall with impunity. Surely, if he is French—”
“So the men tell me,” Gabriel said. “He is said to be extremely dangerous, too, so I would be remiss if I failed to warn you. I mean to get word to the Duke, as well, for with the least threat remaining against his life, one cannot be too careful. If anything should happen to His Grace in Cornwall, we should never live it down.”
“As it happens,” Antony said, “Lady Foxearth and I have been invited to travel to Truro in His Grace’s party. I can deliver your warning to him, if you like.”
“Well, now, that does solve one problem for me,” Gabriel said. “As mayor of Lostwithiel, I had hoped to be on hand to welcome him to Cornwall, but for my own peace of mind, and his safety, I think I must go along to see this lot properly locked up till the Assizes. Fowey is nearest, of course, but it does not boast a jail large enough to hold so many, and with Wellington there, we must not chance one or another of them escaping. The castle prison at Launceston will hold them all easily. His Grace will be disappointed not to have the opportunity to speak with me, particularly to receive my views with regard to the necessity for a continuous military presence in Cornwall to deter crime; however, perhaps I can see him before he leaves the county.”
Astonished, Charley said, “But what about the ceremony, sir? You cannot possibly want to miss that!”
“It is because of the ceremony that I must do this, ma’am. Francis Oakes is a very good man in his way, but he is not a Cornishman, and I fear he will not be as alert as I shall be to the possibility of an outside attempt to free these men along the way. Particularly in view of the death of Michael Peryllys,” he added grimly.
Guiltily, she said, “I hope you do not think I had any choice about that, Mr. Gabriel. He had his pistol aimed right at Sir Antony.”
“My dear ma’am, the man was a murderer,” Gabriel replied fiercely, adding in a voice that trembled with suppressed passion, “I wanted to shoot him myself when I learned of our Annie’s death. His death tonight took place at God’s will, and no one else’s. Indeed, if you had not shot him, he would have murdered you as well as Sir Antony.”
“But the Seraphim Coffer! All your hard work!”
“I shall be sorry to miss the presentation,” he said with more control, “but it is only a ceremony, after all. Oh, and that reminds me, you must have the key to the coffer.” He fumbled at his waistcoat pocket, then pressed a medium-sized round-shafted key into her outstretched hand, saying, “I’ve carried it with me everywhere since yesterday when we placed the sacred vessels inside.”
“Good mercy, sir, I thought the coffer must be at the cathedral by now, under guard. I’m sure you said you intended to send it there on Wednesday.”
By the lantern’s light she saw his wistful smile. “I found I could not bear to part with it so soon, my lady. If you were a craftsman, you would understand how one seeks perfection with yet a bit more sanding, a bit more polish, a tuck in the satin here, an adjustment there. But I set two men to guard it. They will keep it safe at the dean’s house and carry it to the cathedral just before the ceremony. Do you recall your part?”
“I think so,” Charley said. “It is not complicated.”
Evidently still seeking perfection, he said, “Bishop Halsey will accept the cathedral keys from the deacons on the doorstep, and they will enter the cathedral. The Duke will speak, and you will unlock the coffer. Then, once you have done so, you must stand well back and allow him to open it with his own hands, to make his presentation.”
Tucking the key safely into her left glove, Charley said, “I’ll remember easily enough, although I did think you said before that I should open the coffer as well.”
“The bishop believes it will provide a more dramatic moment if the Duke does so,” Gabriel said. “He will doubtless explain that to you himself. I shall be sorry to miss it, as I said, but I do think it is important to get these villains safely locked away where they can do no more harm. You will find one of Oakes’s lads with the horses yonder,” he added, gesturing westward. Then, bidding them farewell, he went quickly back down the trail, holding his lantern out before him to light his way.
Antony still held Charley’s arm, and she said dryly, “Do you mean to hold onto me all the way to Fowey?”
“We have not yet determined that you are going to Fowey.”
“Well, I am. The only alternative is for you to take me back to Seacourt Head yourself and stay there all night. Since we are presently almost as close to Fowey, and need not get up so early if we are already in the village, it is more sensible to go now. Moreover, our clothing for the ceremony is there, because I told Hodson today that I would be riding to meet you, and had him take mine to the inn as well as yours. What purpose would we serve by going home?”
“I could have privacy to beat my wife,” he said musingly.
She chuckled. “If you want to do that, I expect the landlord will turn a deaf ear if he believes you are who you say you are despite those clothes. I daresay he will, too, for although you look a bit rough and seedy, the minute you begin talking in that drawling, condescending way, no one would take you for anything but a gentleman of consequence. But truly, Antony, do you think I should have stayed home?”
“I do,” he retorted.
“How unfair, and foolish, too! Michael Peryllys would have killed you if I had not been here.” The very thought tied a knot in her stomach and made her shiver.
“You don’t know that,” he said.
Employing one of his own favorite tactics, she said nothing.
The silence lengthened. Then, with a sigh, he said, “Very well, I suppose he would, at that. I’d give something to know how much he really knew about me.”
“Cubert Breton said Michael set a man to watch you—to watch Sir Antony, that is—after he learned of Jenifry’s rescue,” she said. “It’s been only a few days, but if his man saw you leave Seacourt as Matois, Michael might suspect that you play two roles.”
“And because Matois is French, Michael connected him to Le Renardeau?”
“Well, how many Frenchmen are running around Cornwall whose antecedents are unknown to him? His wife is French, after all. Even without setting a spy to watch Sir Antony, he must have wondered if Jean Matois could be Le Renardeau.”
He nodded. “You are right, of course.”
She waited.
He released her arm, slipping his around her shoulders as he said, “If you expect me to apologize for expressing my displeasure, angel, you’ll have a long wait. That you may have saved my life does not lessen what I felt when I learned that you were here.”
Remembering with a glow of warmth wholly at odds with her opinion of violent men how fiercely he had shaken her, she said, “How did you find out?”
“Oakes, of course. What I said before was true. He was waiting for me, certain I would not want the men who know me as Matois to see me at the same time as his men, who know me as Sir Antony Foxearth. When he and Gabriel told me you were guarding the trail to keep anyone from leaving that way, they scared me witless. I didn’t consider Michael then, but I should have. All the lads expected him to be there tonight.”
“Cubert would not have warned him to stay away,” Charley said as he guided her off the path onto rougher ground. “Could Michael simply have been lying in wait for you, do you think?”
“I doubt it. The more I think about it, the less I believe that anyone connected Matois and Sir Antony before tonight. Seacourt Head is open land, and we’d have heard if any strangers were hanging about. I think it’s more likely that Michael was cautious because he knew they were looking for him. He must have overheard us speaking, and recognized me as Matois then. Annabelle is yonder in the shrubbery,” he added. “I expect Oakes’s men will have moved Dancer to the same place.”
They met no one except the agent Oakes had left to mind the horses, and when they had mounted, Antony led the way. He avoided the main path along the cliff
until they had passed beyond the far end of the bay, explaining that he did not want to meet anyone coming up from the beach on any of the trails at that end.
Noting that most of the fires along the coast were dying out, Charley said, “What if the French are still lingering nearby in the Channel, waiting for the Duke’s ship?”
“These waters are crawling with revenue cutters by now,” he told her. “Not only did Oakes send two boats to watch for the merchantman and anyone who accosted her, but he sent several more to warn ships coming from the east to keep clear of the area. They’ll hang about this side of the Eddystone to bring the Duke’s ship into Fowey when it appears, and now that the mist is clearing, I doubt if they will miss it. At all events, with Michael out of the picture now, the Duke will be safe enough.”
“Except for Le Renardeau,” Charley reminded him with a chuckle.
“Perhaps I ought to have reassured Gabriel on that head,” Antony said. “It’s a pity for him to miss the ceremony after he’s put in so much time and effort preparing for it, but it’s still habit with me not to trust easily, especially where Le Renardeau is concerned. And since he can’t bring himself to trust Oakes to do his job …”
“That does not surprise me,” Charley said. “Mr. Oakes is no doubt perfectly capable, but by Cornish standards he is still a foreigner.”
“I can see that it’s a matter of pride with Gabriel to make sure the Duke does not meet trouble in Cornwall, but he is carrying things a bit far now, don’t you agree?”
Warmed by his evident interest in her opinion, she smiled and said, “We have worried for so long that it’s hard to believe the danger is over, particularly since Mr. Gabriel is still uncertain about that. He does take his position seriously, and I think the lack of a military presence to protect the Duke makes him very nervous. He seems to grow more so each time I meet him.”
They rode in silence for a time, until she said quietly, “If you are still vexed with me, Antony, I wish you would say so now, before we reach the inn.”
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