The Thief's Daughter

by Victoria Cornwall

  It was her scream reaching his subconscious that told Silas he was still alive. He opened his eyes. Through narrow slits he saw Jenna in the open doorway with her hands covering her mouth. The look of horror on her face told him how bad he must look. The pain that racked his body told him he was lucky to be alive. Jenna ran towards him and fell to her knees by his side. She had come as he had asked and not let him down.

  ‘Oh, Silas … Silas … Who did this to you?’ Her concern made the pain more bearable. His plan had gone momentarily awry, but now it was back on track. He relaxed in her arms and found the strength to talk.

  ‘Penhale,’ he mumbled through swollen lips.

  ‘Jack? No, you are mistaken. He would not do this.’

  Her denial fed his hatred for the man and gave him strength to carry on. ‘He was here,’ he retorted hoarsely. ‘He did it with his own hands.’

  He saw Jenna look to the doorway where the landlord’s large body stood filling the space.

  ‘Fetch a surgeon. Quickly!’ she shouted irritably, before turning her attention back to him. ‘I know Jack. He would not hurt you like this. It is not his way.’

  Even now, he thought, when I, her brother, am badly injured, she protects him. Silas grew angry and his anger gave him strength.

  ‘Look in my hand, Sister – buttons from his coat.’ He winced in pain as he opened his fingers. ‘I tried to protect myself, but he was a man possessed.’

  Jenna took the buttons from his bloodied hand and stared at them. Silas saw her frown change to sadness. Doubt had begun to grow in her mind, he thought triumphantly. For a brief moment he forgot his pain.

  ‘He wanted information.’

  Jenna glanced up. ‘What information?’

  ‘Who supplies money for the smuggling runs.’

  Jenna shook her head. ‘You are confused. He does not want anything further to do with smuggling. He only did it to help you.’

  He was right to think she does not know how Penhale earns his money. The revelation spurred Silas on.

  ‘It is his business to know. Penhale is a thief-taker.’

  She shook her head again. ‘No.’

  With a trembling hand he clutched at her dress, forcing her to brace herself to stop falling on top of him.

  ‘The likes of him took our brothers away,’ spat Silas through the pain. ‘You can’t trust a thief-taker. They will sell out their friends to earn a coin.’

  ‘No … he can’t be.’

  ‘’T’is true. It was he that sent me to prison.’

  Her expression changed again. He saw the range of emotions cross her face like clouds on a windy day. Each new hurt was his triumph and Penhale’s loss.

  He released his grip to look at the blood on his hands. ‘Thief-takers ruined our family.’

  ‘Our family ruined themselves,’ she retorted.

  Silas glanced up at her; even now she was defending him. How deep this man has wormed his way into his sister’s heart, he thought angrily.

  ‘He is using you, Jenna. He wants to know about Lambskin.’

  ‘I know nothing of Lambskin or smuggling. Jack knows more than me.’

  ‘You are a widow and sister of men who have smuggled. You are easy prey to wheedle the information he seeks. All he has to say is a few kind words, buy a box of sweetmeats, teach you to read … perhaps even speak words of love.’ A sudden sharp pain caused him to stiffen, tearing and gnawing at something deep inside.

  ‘Don’t say any more. Save your strength,’ Jenna soothed as beads of perspiration began to form on Silas’s forehead. ‘It will not be long now. The surgeon will be here soon.’

  As suddenly as it began, the pain moved on. Silas rested a moment to catch his breath before lifting his head to spit bloody saliva onto the ground at his side.

  ‘He is … no good … for you,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘He has kept the truth … from you. Didn’t I promise I would always protect you?’

  Jenna nodded, tears blurring her vision.

  ‘I am only keeping my … promise,’ he added weakly, letting his head fall back against her. Why was it getting harder to talk? He felt tired and more breathless, and his sister looked defeated. She was attempting to clean some blood away with the hem of her dress, but it was futile. Silas waved her help away and placed his hand on hers.

  ‘He … has … used you … Jenna.’

  Jenna’s eyes glistened in the morning sun as tears began to fall. Silas sighed with relief. He could see in her eyes that the doubt he had placed in her mind was now growing with each memory she had of him.

  He felt her hand withdraw from under his so she could cradle him in her arms. It felt comforting and he relaxed, until another sharp pain caught him and took his breath from him. He attempted to exhale the pain away, but this time the pain lingered and grew. He looked at Jenna’s worried face. She believed his injuries were too great for her skills. Suddenly, Silas understood what this meant and it frightened him – he did not want to die.

  ‘Keep away from him,’ he wanted to say but no words came out. He frowned in confusion and felt Jenna stroke his brow. Why was the light fading at this time of day? His mouth became dry and his mind turned foggy. Although he felt Jenna’s arms about him, her soothing tones seemed so far away. He was leaving her already, he realised, and he did not want to go.

  Silas mustered what little strength he had left in one last effort to drive a wedge between her and the man that still had a life to share with her.

  ‘Tell Lambskin … about Penhale,’ he whispered hoarsely through blood-cracked lips. ‘He will make him pay.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jack put the tray of glasses on the table and began to fill each with port.

  ‘No housekeeper to attend us?’ asked Enoch, looking at the ashes in the fire.

  ‘I found her gone when I returned this morning. I suspect she is buying supplies for the larder.’

  ‘Administering to your needs as any good housekeeper should,’ Enoch said with a smile, taking the glass Jack offered him.

  ‘Or administering to someone else’s needs,’ muttered Henley as he reached for his.

  Jack kept hold of it and left Henley’s hand to linger in the air. ‘I trust her more than some,’ he said pointedly, before handing him his glass.

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘I mean that a uniform does not mean that the man behind it can be trusted.’

  Henley bristled and turned to Enoch. ‘I have guarded this coastline for many years without this man’s help. He comes here and has the gall to accuse me of double-dealing.’

  Enoch opened his mouth to play peacemaker but Jack interrupted him.

  ‘The day after I was shot I was given a message by an informant that there is a spy in your ranks.’

  Henley snorted. ‘Most of your informants accept smuggled goods. Hardly trustworthy sources.’

  ‘I can trust this one,’ said Jack, picking up his glass.

  Henley snorted again. He had heard that before.

  Jack tipped his head back and drained his glass. ‘There are many who were willing to buy smuggled brandy at first, but after your searches they want no more involvement.’ He toyed with his empty glass as he contemplated having another, smudging his fingerprint with a rub of his thumb. ‘Unfortunately, smugglers only get their profit when the goods are sold and they do not take kindly to losing a customer. They force landlords to buy by threatening their wives’, sons’ and daughters’ lives.’ He placed his glass on the table. ‘The fear of what they might do costs the landlords dearly as the smugglers can increase their prices at will.’

  ‘How does your informant know there is a spy in my ranks?’ asked Henley.

  Jack looked at him. ‘Through idle gossip,’ he replied evasively. ‘Besides, even I have suspected that the landlords are warned when there is going to be a search.’

  ‘And this informant was willing to confide in you?’ asked Enoch, refilling his own glass. ‘How does he know he can
trust you?’

  ‘Because I understand the risk this person runs should they refuse, and I think they saw that in me.’ Jack refused Enoch’s offer of another drink with a curt shake of his head and took a seat opposite them to stare into the ashes.

  Jenna would have a fire warming the room by now if she was home, he thought, but instead three men sat around its grey ashes feeling the cold. Stubbornly, he had not lit it himself, as to do so would accept she was not coming back. He should have woken her before he left, but she had looked so peaceful in her slumber he had not wanted to disturb her – or tell her where he was going. Now she was angry that she had awakened alone and he was paying the price for his insensitivity.

  Jack dragged his gaze from the ashes and back to the meeting in hand. ‘If they catch up with Silas we will know my informant speaks the truth and there is someone playing both sides.’

  Henley held up his glass in a mock toast. ‘Says the man who is bedding the widow of a smuggler. How much have you learnt from her?’

  ‘She is not like them,’ ground out Jack. ‘She is a good woman who tries her best to lead a law-abiding life. Her brother drags her down but I believe she now has the strength to resist him. I trust her. She risked her life to warn me about the dragoons that night.’

  ‘You would like to believe that,’ retorted Henley, ‘but the reality is that she warned fifty smugglers at the same time. Perhaps it was them she wanted to warn, not you.’

  Jack clenched his fists. ‘You know nothing of Jenna.’

  ‘I know she has a strange view of what housekeeping duties are,’ said Henley. He turned to Enoch. ‘The last time I saw her she was lying half naked on her employer.’

  Jack’s jaw tightened. ‘She is a fine housekeeper,’ he replied in a menacing tone.

  ‘She is a slut,’ retorted Henley.

  Jack leapt to his feet and dragged Henley to his. The small table toppled and Jack’s glass smashed on the slate floor at their feet.

  ‘Mind your tongue, Henley,’ warned Jack, ‘or you will have to fish it out of your throat.’

  Enoch stood and with feeble arms attempted to break them apart.

  ‘Gentlemen! Gentlemen! This will not do! Jack, put the man down!’ Jack’s fists loosened, allowing Henley to pull away. ‘We are all on the same side. Fighting each other will help no man,’ Enoch scolded.

  Henley straightened his clothes as he moved to put some distance between them. He had goaded Jack before but the man had always remained calm under his sarcasm. Jack’s sudden anger today surprised and frightened him. He must choose his words more carefully in the future, particularly where his housekeeper was concerned. He filled another glass of port and emptied it to steady his nerves. He turned to Jack.

  ‘I went to the prison with Tilbury, but sent him out of the room to keep guard. I was the only one who heard what Silas said and I told no one. The dragoons did not know their mission until the night of the attack.’ He pointed to his chest with his thumb. ‘I am the only one who knew, and I told no one where I got my information from. This will be proved by Silas remaining unharmed.’

  ‘Money is a source of corruption. Men from all classes can be bought for the right price,’ Jack said, turning away and righting the table.

  ‘Not this man,’ argued Henley, putting on his hat. ‘It is time you began to trust me, Penhale. Had I been told that you would be on the beach that night, I would have warned my men.’

  ‘I knew the danger I risked,’ said Jack. ‘Besides, they would not have been able to recognise me if they were warned of my presence. The darkness of the night turns all men into shadows.’

  ‘Even so …’

  ‘Gentlemen, what is done is done,’ interrupted Enoch. Turning to Henley, he said, ‘Jack has been informed there is someone in your ranks tipping off the smugglers as to which part of the coast will be guarded by the preventative men. It is useful information to know and should not be dismissed. Let us have another glass of port and plan what to do. We have an enemy, and it is not one another.’

  Jenna looked down on a deserted Porthenys Cove. Below her the sea rose and fell rhythmically within the narrow channel, breaking occasionally on jutting rocky outcrops to form trails of white foam. In turn each strand of foam was whisked up and diluted by the murky waves that came behind. Although she watched the tide coming in intently, she took no pleasure in it. As the sea wind chilled her skin and knotted her hair, all she could see was her brother’s battered body in her arms and hear his words of warning in her head.

  By the time the surgeon arrived, Silas was already growing cold. The landlord of Lanros Inn took pity on her and agreed to keep Silas’s body in his cellar until he was buried. She remembered watching him hastily gather the scattered coins on the floor for payment. His kindness and sympathy did not last long. Within minutes Silas’s body was wrapped up in a sheet and removed so the room could be cleaned and made vacant for other guests.

  As they carried his sagging body past her, kindly hands guided her away from her brother’s room to a quieter one. Lukewarm broth was offered to bring colour back to her pale cheeks, but she had no stomach for it and refused with a shake of her head. A man, a stranger to her, came to sit next to her to ask questions about Silas’s beating. She had little she wanted to tell him and finally he admitted that she was not the only one struck dumb. He could find no one who was willing to bear witness to the murder and the culprits would probably not be caught.

  Jenna did not share who her brother accused. She did not know the man asking so many questions and she needed time to absorb what her brother had said – and asked of her. She lost track of time as Silas’s traumatic death turned to mere gossip and was passed from person to person around her.

  Eventually, her presence in the inn was forgotten and she was left quite alone. Unseen, and still feeling bewildered, she got up and wandered out into the street, leaving the bustle of the inn behind her. She remembered looking about her and feeling confused that nothing appeared to have changed. How could the street seem so normal when, for her, everything was different?

  A gull screeched angrily at another bird as it tried to steal its catch. The sudden noise shocked Jenna out of her memories and she looked about her in bewilderment once again. She found herself standing dangerously close to the cliff edge. A minor landslide would easily carry her away, like flotsam on a tide of earth and down to the rocks below. The danger set fear coursing through her veins and stopped the numbness that had encased her body and frozen her tongue. She stepped back to safety.

  Turning away from the cliff she headed back to Jack’s house, her thoughts focused on what her brother had told her. Had Jack been gaining her trust all this time for his own purposes? Had he used her and beaten her brother so badly that now he was dead? The revelations were too great to be easily believed. She needed to know if her brother spoke the truth and the only way to do that was to speak to Jack.

  Jack’s cottage rose up on the horizon as she approached. A man riding a grey horse was just leaving and heading towards her. As he passed, deep in thought, his horse’s hooves flicked mud into the air and muddied her dress. She glanced up and instantly recognised him as the Head of the Land Guard who had ordered his men to leave Jack’s home, but today he wore no uniform, suggesting his visit was a social call.

  She remembered Jack called him Henley when he was drunk. The realisation that they were acquainted before the night of the smuggling brought colour to her cheeks that the broth had failed to do. She had stripped to save Jack from the dragoons, when in fact he did not need saving at all. The dragoon on the beach had tried to kill her not him. Jack probably knew them all by name. How stupid she must have looked in his eyes. Yet even with such evidence that Jack had misled her, she wanted more proof. Wrapping her shawl tightly about her she trudged onwards to the cottage.

  Jenna quietly lifted the latch and entered into the hall. She heard the quiet tones of Jack’s voice and realised he had another visitor. Dropping her shawl, s
he followed the sound to the drawing room where she tilted her head to listen at the door.

  ‘Do you think it is Henley?’ said his visitor. Jenna recognised the cultured voice of his friend who had visited before.

  ‘No. He would not have arranged for the dragoons to attack if it was. I believe this man Tilbury has questions to answer.’

  This was no social call, thought Jenna, as she heard Jack’s voice. She pressed her ear closer and quietened her breathing.

  ‘But he was not present when Silas told.’

  ‘He knew of the visit. It would not require too much thought to realise a connection between the intelligence of the landing place and Silas’s freedom.’

  Jenna turned to rest the back of her head against the door as she continued to listen. She had told Jack it was Silas who had informed the dragoons. If she had not Jack would not have gone to the inn to find him. Silas might still be alive if it had not been for her loose tongue.

  ‘You should not have goaded Henley,’ said Jack’s visitor.

  ‘He goads me enough. Anyway, until he lost his temper, I did not know for sure. His reaction has confirmed my thoughts about Tilbury.’

  ‘Henley does not like to accept help as it means he has failed. It is this fact that sharpens his tongue.’

  ‘The reason he has failed,’ said Jack, ‘is that he has had a spy in his ranks telling the smugglers of their plans. No wonder he has spent the last few years chasing them like a headless chicken and being outwitted.’

  ‘We have no proof it is Tilbury, but I will arrange for him to be moved inland and we will see if this makes a difference.’

  ‘That would be a start.’

  ‘But they will change their communication methods now and you are no further forward to catching the culprit.’

  Jenna closed her eyes. Silas was right. Jack was a thief-taker just as he had said. She cared nothing for the smugglers and would have gladly helped Jack. It was the fact that he had used her that turned her stomach.