To Sleep No More

by Deryn Lake

  Unable to think of a thing to say, Henrietta fought for time by answering. ‘I am afraid I don’t understand you.’

  ‘The highwayman of Pennybridge is Jacob Challice, Henrietta. Your lie to protect him has failed.’

  ‘How dare you,’ she answered, rising to her feet and turning a furious face towards him. ‘I simply was mistaken; that is all. Anyway I don’t believe you. Did you catch him red-handed?’

  ‘In the very act of robbing a coach in which I was travelling on the roof.’

  Despite everything, Henrietta repeated in astonishment, ‘On the roof?’

  Nicholas grinned. ‘A trick I taught myself some years ago. Drive the horses from above and then launch yourself at your quarry. It usually works — unless I miss.’

  In normal circumstances Miss Trevor would have laughed but now she was too upset. ‘And where is Challice now?’

  ‘Gone to earth. I shot him while he escaped.’

  The room circled unpleasantly and Henrietta put her hand to her head. ‘Oh merciful God,’ she said.

  Nicholas left the desk and crossed over to her, holding both her arms with his hands. ‘Henrietta,’ he said earnestly. ‘You don’t have to say anything in reply but there is something that I most urgently have to say to you. It is my belief — please keep silent — that you did recognise Challice and for some reason denied the fact. I don’t know how much the man means to you, if anything, but I must warn you that he is doomed. Forces are massing against him — forces far stronger than I — and he will end on the gallows. That is beyond a shadow of a doubt. I beg you, for your own sake, not to become any further involved with him.’

  His dark grey eyes regarded her very seriously as he spoke again. ‘This could not be a worse moment to declare myself, Miss Trevor, but so be it. I have more than a fondness for you as you have probably guessed already. In fact the other night, inspired by music and wine, I said that I loved you.’

  ‘I know,’ Henrietta whispered.

  ‘I am glad of that, because it is true. I think, looking back, that I probably fell in love with you at our first meeting. I realise, of course, that there is no future for us. I am a humble Riding Officer and far down the social scale from the daughter of the Squire of Glynde. But that does not mean that I do not want to protect you and see you happy. Therefore, dearest, darling, beautiful Henrietta, I implore you to be careful. Danger lies ahead for Challice — and for you too if you go on consorting with him.’

  She could not make an answer, in fact she could do nothing but burst into a storm of weeping, flying into Nicholas’s arms and resting her head against his beating heart.

  ‘Nicholas, is Jacob really in danger?’ she said.

  ‘Terribly. The old squire is posting a reward for his capture, dead or alive, and every bounty hunter in Sussex will be after it. To make the situation even worse two professionals are on their way here. And they will not stop until they have Challice in their clutches.’

  ‘Then he must leave the area?’

  ‘It is the only way.’

  There was a momentary silence during which the Lieutenant and the young woman stared at one another. Then she said, ‘You have told me this so that I can warn him, haven’t you?’

  ‘Henrietta,’ came the measured reply, ‘I think if you ever see him again you are implicating yourself in a highly dangerous situation. But, knowing you, I am sure that you will persist. The kindest thing you can do for Challice is to warn him off and make sure he goes. I have already told you the likely consequences if he does not.’ Nicholas paused and then went on, ‘I tell you this not because I am his rival for your affections, but because it will hurt you if anything happens to him. I am doing my best to be fair.’

  She hugged him close to her again. ‘You are being more than that, you are being the soul of honesty. It shines out of your eyes.’

  Nicholas caught her to him hard. ‘But don’t think that makes me any less the man. I love you and want you and would go to the ends of the earth if I thought there was any chance of winning you.’

  Her reply never came because, throwing caution aside, he bent to kiss her, there in the Bakers’ household with the family in the very next room. Now she knew him to be a true rival to Jacob, for his kiss was hungry, demanding, telling her that he wanted her as much as did the highwayman. Yet, within herself, Henrietta knew that the flame that Jacob had lit in her, the flame that had affected both her heart and body, was missing. The kiss was deep, satisfying, but lacked that one divine spark that separated love from friendship.

  They drew apart and Nicholas said, ‘My dear love, go and wash your face. I shall bid Miss Baker adieu and take my leave. I promise you I shall not enquire about Challice further, provided you give your word that you tell him quite clearly of the danger he is in.’

  ‘But if he has been shot, where is he?’

  Nicholas gave a wry smile. ‘I should try the house of Mr Langham the surgeon if I were you.’

  She smiled. ‘If he is there, why don’t you arrest him?’

  ‘And lose my only chance of you loving me? Never! I may be a Riding Officer but I am no fool. No Henrietta, let Challice and I be on equal terms in your eyes.’

  This time it was Miss Trevor who stood on tiptoe to kiss the Lieutenant.

  *

  That evening the rain stopped early, so that when the Bakers had finished dining they were able to go out and take some fresh air. Both Thomas and Lucy ordered carriages; she obviously — or so Henrietta thought — making her way to see John Langham; he, appearing in immensely grand dress, going off mysteriously in the direction of Tunbridge Wells, no doubt to sample the delights of the new season at the spa. Nizel, on the other hand, clapped an even more battered straw hat on his head than usual and, grabbing his easel and paints, vanished into the countryside.

  With only George and Philadelphia left for company, Henrietta decided to take a short walk to try and make some sense of her many and confused thoughts, before she retired early for the night. She put a light mantle over her dress, pulled the hood around her head, and made her way on foot through the palace gates and out into Mayfield.

  As Henrietta walked down the eastern track she saw that the fields and hills to her right glowed gold as the sun began its descent from the high point in the heavens. Soon pinks and mauves, violets and yellows, together with red, would fire the sky but now the evening was as sharp and sweet as a cool pale peppermint.

  Breathing in the delights of such splendour, Henrietta proceeded on, passing on her left a cottage that reminded her of a ship and various other old and interesting properties that by their very timbered presence seemed to speak of Mayfield in another age. Only the problem of Jacob and Nicholas and her overwhelming emotions stopped her from feeling harmoniously at one with her surroundings.

  With her mind going over the problem, Henrietta stepped on down the track only to have to jump back hastily as a horseman came riding by at some speed. He reined in hard as he saw her and called, ‘My apologies, Madam. I was preoccupied and did not notice you. Forgive my rudeness, please.’

  Henrietta smiled an acknowledgement, only to find herself looking at a tall, thin young man dressed in the uniform of a lieutenant in Brigadier Groves’s regiment. He dismounted as soon as he had calmed his mount and bowed before her, military style.

  ‘I do hope you were in no way injured, Miss ...?’

  ‘Trevor. Henrietta Trevor. No, I am perfectly all right thank you.’

  ‘Then praise be.’ He smiled winningly and she noticed that though his mouth curved upward to show a set of firm white teeth, his eyes remained unlit, taking in every detail of her appearance with a look that was both cool and appraising.

  ‘Jekyll, ma’am,’ he said, bowing again neatly. ‘Lieutenant Jekyll, at your service.’

  Henrietta dropped a polite curtsey. ‘You are visiting Mayfield, Lieutenant?’

  ‘In a way. I shall be staying at the Barracks for a while.’

  ‘The Barracks?’ />
  ‘At Fir Toll. Where the dragoons were stationed during the recent arrest of a highwayman.’

  ‘Oh! So you are here on army business, Lieutenant Jekyll?’

  He laughed, again displaying his dazzling teeth. ‘Nothing that need worry your head, dear lady. Just keeping an eye on things.’ As before, his gaze remained detached.

  Henrietta’s heart sank with alarm. Could this be one of the bounty hunters that Nicholas had mentioned earlier in the day? Desperately she tried to probe without appearing to do so.

  ‘So you are going to round up the smugglers, Lieutenant?’

  ‘That would be telling, Miss Trevor. Why for all I know you might be one of them.’ He laughed uproariously at that while Henrietta smiled feebly in return. ‘No,’ he went on, his face becoming serious, ‘I am here merely to see that law and order are maintained. Not easy in these ruthless times, I’m sure you’ll agree.’

  Henrietta murmured something suitable and the Lieutenant said, ‘May I escort you home, Miss Trevor, or do you have further to walk?’

  ‘I thought I might take the air a little longer, thank you Lieutenant. I am staying at the palace by the way, a guest of Squire Baker and his family.’

  ‘Then hopefully I shall have the pleasure of renewing our acquaintance, as I intend to call on the squire and present my compliments tomorrow.’

  ‘Perhaps I shall see you then,’ answered Henrietta, by now thoroughly alarmed and wishing only to be alone that she might plan how best to warn Jacob of this new threat to his safety.

  Once again Lieutenant Jekyll bowed. ‘Until then, Miss Trevor. May I wish you a pleasant evening.’

  ‘And to you also.’

  He remounted, still watching her, and Henrietta was aware of those cold light eyes following her as she turned to continue her journey down the eastern track, away from the village.

  *

  In the same evening, Lucy Baker made her way by coach to John Langham’s house, wanting only to pour out her account of the day’s happenings to her dearest friend. But for once she found the surgeon, usually so calm and comforting, in a frenzy, even having gone so far as to forget his well-curled wig and have his house-cap upon his head when she arrived. There was an inner excitement about him and he almost forgot to kiss her when the last of the servants had departed, leaving them alone together in his gracious saloon, filled with the warm glow of the setting sun.

  ‘What is it?’ she said at once. ‘John, what has happened?’

  ‘An unbelievable thing,’ he said. ‘Lucy, I have had further evidence of your life as Margaret of Sharnden.’

  Now it was her turn to feel excitement. ‘What do you mean? How could you have done?’

  Pulling her almost roughly to sit down beside him, John whispered, ‘Through Jacob Challice who lies upstairs at this very moment.’

  ‘He is here! John Langham, have you taken leave of your senses? You, a respected surgeon, harbouring a criminal. What is the matter with you?’

  Looking abashed, John said, ‘It is part of my research, Lucy. Pray do not be angry. I sent Challice back in time, and he spoke of Margaret of Sharnden and of Paul d’Estrange. He said that Paul was interested in medicine and herbalism. A strange feeling gripped me when he said those words. Perhaps I, too, was part of your past.’

  She smiled a little sadly. ‘Perhaps you were, but will you ever be part of my future?’

  He patted her hand. ‘One day the way will be clear for us.’

  ‘Oh I do hope so,’ answered Lucy, as with her eyelids already dropping, she tucked her feet neatly onto the graceful sofa and began to watch the swinging pendulum in Langham’s hand, listening to his voice taking her back on a journey through time.

  *

  A casual observer watching Lieutenant Jekyll enter the Barracks — the old and beautiful house in Fir Toll that had, for the moment, been requisitioned by the military — would have seen a tall thin officer go in. But had he waited an hour he would not have recognised the strange creature that emerged, a creature wearing a shepherd’s smock, great straw hat, to say nothing of dirty old boots and a rough-spun pair of breeches. He would have been even further surprised to see the Lieutenant climb into a battered cart, hitched to a sturdy horse in blinkers, which he drove towards the south east of the village, climbing the tortuous track upwards until he had vanished into the trees at the top of the slope.

  Once out of sight of prying eyes, Lieutenant Jekyll urged his conveyance on so that the enormous sweep he was taking through woods and farmlands, enabling him to reach Coggins Mill without passing through the village, could be accomplished while there was still enough light to see. Finally, threading through a dense coppice, the cart began to go downhill and Jekyll, unobserved, crossed the main London coaching road and, passing between the cottages, found what he was looking for. Before him stretched a sunken track almost hidden from view. He had found Kit Jarvis’s own personal route out of the village.

  Driving the cart along it for a certain distance, Lieutenant Jekyll finally drew off into the shadow of some thickly growing trees and, lighting a pipe, settled down to wait.

  The sky darkened and a newborn moon appeared fitfully between clouds of frosted milk. As the heat of the evening vanished, the road seethed with mist, and Jekyll hugged his arms round himself to keep out the sudden cold. He was just lighting another pipe when he heard it, the approach of muffled hooves and the quiet march of men. His luck and his intelligent guess had held; with only a tiny moon, a run was taking place. The smugglers were on their way.

  Jekyll braced himself, dousing his pipe. Timing was essential now. He peered into the mist and had the eerie experience of hearing men and horses passing below but seeing nothing — just as if a ghostly army was on the move. From the volume of sound the Lieutenant guessed that a convoy of eighty, including horses and carts, was making its way to the coast this night.

  He waited his moment and as he heard the last of the carts rumble beneath him, hurried his conveyance down the slope and joined the convoy, saying, ‘I thought I would never see you. A wheel broke loose just as I was setting forth,’ to the driver in front. There was a grunt of greeting and then silence, and in the misty darkness Jekyll grinned.

  The secret road went steadily along the side of a wood, near to the land of Merryweather Farm and watermill, and then began to climb, running directly beneath a curious house, half Tudor, half modern, which Jekyll believed belonged to a surgeon. Now they were in the heart of valley country and the road plunged into thick woods, once the hunting lands of the Lords of Glynde. Jekyll, less experienced a cart driver than the others, found it hard to negotiate the rough terrain and was glad when the convoy suddenly pulled to a halt.

  From his position at the back the Lieutenant had no idea why they had stopped but took the opportunity to jump down and quickly relieve himself, making this his excuse to take note of what was happening.

  The procession had come to rest in a glade and Jekyll was astonished to see that in the heart of it lay a large ruin, surrounded by a moat. An entrance bridge crossed the water and, straining his eyes in the darkness, Jekyll observed that the stones and slates of the ancient pile were being systematically plundered for building purposes elsewhere. But this, or so it would appear, was not the only function of the deserted house. Beneath piles of brushwood stacks of barrels could be seen, standing in what must have once been a spacious courtyard.

  Jekyll’s curiosity overcame him and throwing discretion to the winds he said to the man nearest him, ‘Who owned this place?’

  The smuggler gave him an odd stare and answered, ‘The Lords of Glynde. It was the hunting lodge of one of them. Probably John Waleis who fought at Crécy.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Jekyll quickly. ‘My memory isn’t what it was.’

  Any doubts that the other man might have had, however, were quietened by a call from the head of the train, presumably from one of the Jarvis brothers. The procession moved on, climbing up, through heavy woods, and then
down again, passing close to a farm called Gillhope, and at last coming to the banks of the Rother. Here, Jekyll noticed, the smugglers had sown a crop — their term for sinking a raft of tubs to await later collection — brought up by river from the Romney Marshes.

  The convoy of men began to follow the course of the river, going in the direction of Burwash, and then to the coast. Under his breath Lieutenant Jekyll began to whistle cheerfully. He had the feeling that a long night lay ahead.

  *

  It had not been as easy to slip away from the smugglers’ train as the lieutenant had envisaged. Much to his horror when they had finally left the Rother he had been joined at the back of the convoy by Edward Jarvis, heavily armed with hanger and bat, and they had ridden almost side by side for the rest of the journey. Though Jekyll, for obvious reasons, would by far have preferred to remain silent, Edward had said in a businesslike voice, ‘I want you to handle Dash’s personal consignment. He is very short of brandy and has asked that it might be taken straight to him. Can you see to that?’

  Jekyll took a calculated risk. ‘I’m not sure of Dash’s identity, Master Jarvis. I don’t help out very often.’

  Edward’s face went blank. ‘Oh no, of course you don’t,’ he said, and had cantered off.

  Jekyll, wondering whether he had said the right thing, knew that this was the moment to leave, but the smell of salt was in the air, together with the wild, sad song of the ocean, and he saw that from the clifftops flashing lights were signalling out to sea. An answering flash brought forth a cry of triumph and the landing party began the perilous descent to the beach below, to conceal themselves amongst the caves and rocks until the crucial moment.

  ‘Get that cart down there, Tom,’ said a voice by Jekyll’s ear and he saw that Edward had returned and was riding close beside him.

  ‘Yes, Master Jarvis,’ he answered gruffly and, pulling the reins tightly in, launched the wretched horse on to the steep and twisting path.

  ‘Easy there, whoa,’ he called, aware that Edward was watching everything he did.