A Fair Pretender

by Janet Woods

  Two plough horses loomed large over the rest of the inhabitants, their eyes soft brown, their tails flicking. There were a couple of geldings, both chestnuts, and a young, dark-bay filly who frisked her tail and turned soulful eyes her way. Graine fell in love with her straight away. In the next stall, a black mare nudged her foal to her teat. The mare snickered when they approached.

  Saville spoke softly to the mare. The foal detached from its mother and turned to gaze at them. Her forelegs tapped a delicate dance on the ground. It was dark all over, velvety-coated. ‘She’s beautiful, isn’t she,’ Saville whispered, a smile playing round his mouth,

  ‘Yes, but so is this one,’ she said, stroking the filly’s soft muzzle.

  ‘That’s her sister, Ebony. They were sired by the same stallion.’

  Just like Evelyn and herself. Her smile faded a little. ‘She’s beautiful. I love her.’

  Saville turned to gaze at her, drawling. ‘Yes … so do I.’

  Disconcerted by the intense gaze, Graine’s cheeks warmed. ‘I’d better go back to the house,’ she stammered. ‘I’m not used to the cold.’

  ‘You’ve not chosen a name for the foal yet.’

  ‘Dancer, for she moves so delicately.’

  His smile took her breath away. ‘Dancer … yes, a good choice. Her sister Ebony will be my gift to you. She’s nearly old enough to be trained for you to ride.’

  ‘That’s too generous a gift,’ she protested, but weakly because she knew she’d never wanted to accept a gift so much. Her smile embraced the filly called Ebony. ‘And I think I will need to be trained to ride her, for I’m inexperienced.’

  He grinned at that, for he’d been assured she had a good seat on a horse. ‘That’s for me to decide. You only have to decide whether to accept my gift or not.’

  ‘Of course I’ll accept it. How could I not accept such a wonderful animal.’ Her smile faded when she remembered why she was here. ‘John Lamartine might not allow me to accept a gift of such magnitude.’

  ‘Perhaps John will be given no say in the matter,’ Saville said gently, and leaning forward he brushed his lips against her cheek.

  Chapter Four

  He must stop giving in to the urge to kiss Eve’s soft lips, Saville thought to himself a little later. In fact, he must stop thinking about her for at least one hour of the day, especially the next hour.

  With difficulty, he dragged his mind back to the task at hand and, pulling on his boots, turned to Edmund Scanlon, his steward, and his father’s steward before him. ‘How many this time?’

  ‘Seven, my lord. One of the women is with child.’

  How did they get here?’

  ‘Josiah Harrison’s fishing boat.’

  Saville frowned. ‘Risky at this time of year.’

  ‘Not with Josiah at the tiller; he’s an old sea dog who knows these waters like the back of his hand.’

  Saville nodded. ‘Josiah used to take me fishing as a child.’

  Edmund’s eyes centered on the past and a smile touched his mouth. ‘He conspired with your father and Seth Adams to smuggle goods across the channel in their youth,’ the older man said. ‘Adventure seeking rogues, the three of them. Most of the Lamartine men were, except for your uncle, the Bishop. Upright, he was, but with a mind of his own, I’ll give him that. Nobody was going to lead him off the path of righteousness. Your cousin John takes after him, though he’s softer by nature, and a much nicer man than his father.’

  ‘He certainly is.’

  Edmund slowly shook his head. ‘Your great-grandfather took to the highway, as well as smuggling. It’s said he only stole kisses from the ladies, but one or two of the merchant families bear a striking resemblance to the Lamartines.’

  A grin flickered at Saville’s lips as his body servant placed a warm cloak about his shoulders. He’d heard all these tales before, but knew he would never tire of them, and offered the expected response. ‘I must have proved to be a disappointment to my father, then.’

  ‘Hardly, sir.’ He always said you favored your mother and would bring respectability to the family name. Had he lived to witness your courage, he would have been proud.’

  Faintly surprised by the praise, Saville gazed at the man.

  Edmund shrugged as he picked up a sack containing bread, boiled mutton, cheese and eggs. ‘You’ve turned out to be more like him than he’d imagined. Only you’re less reckless, and have a stronger instinct for self-preservation. Call it good sense if you like.’

  ‘Thank you, Edmund.’ Sometimes, Saville wished he could remember his mother, who’d perished in childbirth when he’d still been in his infancy. Vague memories of his father often snatched at him, especially here at Rushford. He’d been larger than life itself––a man who crackled with energy and possessed a deep, booming laugh.

  Saville recalled worshipping the hero figure his father had represented. But although he’d felt loved in his presence, and proud to be worthy of his attention, he’d always felt diminished by him.

  He couldn’t remember his father dying, just of himself being put in a coach one day and conveyed to London to grow up with his cousin, John. His sister Charlotte, his senior by three years had been sent to be raised by their matriarchal grandmother. John’s father had been a Bishop, a heavy-handed man who’d used punishment as a preventative rather than a cure.

  Over time, Saville learned that his father had been shot to death by a customs officer. His partner in crime was a man with the minor title of Baron, and very little else to his name. Seth Adams had escaped to the West Indies with only the clothes he wore on his back. There, Evelyn’s father had acquired the sugar plantation, South Winds, on the turn of a card. He’d wed the sickly heiress to the neighboring plantation and the pair had produced Evelyn. Seth had died in his prime, leaving behind a wealthy daughter and a consumptive wife who’d perished shortly afterwards.

  When Saville had grown old enough to assume his rightful place, Josiah had contacted him. It had been he who’d suggested that the daughter of Seth Adams might make a suitable bride for one of the Lamartine cousins.

  But not for Saville, who possessed a natural repugnance for the way her wealth had been accumulated, even though he knew it wasn’t her fault. Besides, he had no need to contract a marriage with a woman who had no breeding of note, and sight unseen.

  But Evelyn Adams had seemed a suitable match for John. Despite the differences in personality between John and himself, his cousin was a good and honest man. He was also Saville’s heir; and a new generation of the family needed to be produced, so the title and estate could continue safely into the future.

  Now he’d fallen in love with the prospective bride himself. Although he found the situation ironic, it was also an unforeseen and unfortunate occurrence. The heavy sigh he gave brought a look of enquiry from his servant.

  He shrugged and dismissing the man, sent him back to his bed, for it was after midnight. He and Edmund went downstairs with hardly a sound, followed by Rebel who appeared from the direction of his guest’s room. He’d noticed the rug placed outside her door as she’d tried to make her doggy admirer and self-appointed guardian comfortable. Saville smiled to think Rebel guarded her so well. He’d sleep there himself if he were a dog.

  It was numbingly cold outside. A bright moon sailed through a sky of ragged, silver-edged clouds. The earlier snowfall had melted away, as often happened with the first snowfall. There was more to come. Saville could smell it in the air pushing at the cloudbanks, which were massed along the line where sea and sky joined.

  Beneath his feet the ground was rimed with crunchy frost. Ahead, the lake was glazed with a thin layer of ice. In a few days the surface should be safe to walk on, if one stayed close to the edges.

  They made their way across the grounds to a walled orchard. The trees, so fruitful in early autumn, were now grotesquely gnarled and twisted specimens. But the brown nubs of spring were held captive under the lichen-painted bark, an indication of summer fecundity.<
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  In the orchard garden stood a solid stone outbuilding used for storage. The sturdy door was keyed open and it swung inward on oiled hinges at his touch.

  The scent of apples greeted their nostrils as they passed storage racks, where each individual fruit was wrapped cozily in straw. Beyond the racks a second door admitted entrance to an inner room, where drying herbs hung in bunches from hooks on the ceiling. Tools lined the walls.

  Mice scattered in all directions when Saville pulled aside a bale of straw, to reveal a trapdoor. Rebel snapped at them, but the number of squeaking grey bodies fleeing in all directions confused him, and all streaked safely into the rafters and racks.

  Beneath the trapdoor, steps pitched steeply downwards into the darkness. Without hesitation Rebel headed down into the void. The two men followed, one after another, closing the trapdoor behind them.

  At the bottom of the steps was a small chamber, twice the height of a man and four times his width. Here, the air was still and close, pressuring against the ears with the clamoring hush of bodily function and awareness. When one grew used to it, the occasional drip of water into a quiet pool intruded and the earth sighed as it shifted. Down here, one knew the earth was alive. Saville always said a short prayer that it would allow him safe passage.

  Those unfamiliar with the network of caves and passages would have been confused and disorientated within a couple of minutes, for the tunnels twisted this way and that. But at some time in the distant past, someone had hammered spikes into the walls and slung a thick rope between them to form a crude handhold.

  Stalagmites hung in grotesque shapes, to explode into sparkling beauty as they were touched by the lantern glow. Short passages led into small chambers containing still, dark pools of water. They sloped gently, but ever downwards, cave after cave, one after another.

  Saville and Edmund moved quickly. In a short while the air changed, becoming fresher as they neared the bottom, where they detected a faint lightening of the gloom up ahead. Saville gave a low whistle and Rebel came to his side.

  The main, large chamber was a sheer and steep drop around the next bend. Descent could be achieved with the aid of a rope ladder, which could be pulled up after him if necessary. The level chamber could be overlooked through a series of spy-holes, placed there by his adventuring forebears.

  The sea never reached this far into the caves, not even during spring tides. It was a place of warmth and safety, the shore being half the distance of the passages they’d already negotiated from Rushford. Twisting passages branched off. Some led into small caves. Used for storage chambers in the past, now they stored human cargo and the goods necessary for their survival. A couple served as conduits for trickling streams, which could suddenly flush water into the cavern when rainfall was heavy.

  Through the spy-holes Saville saw Josiah Harrison, his rascally, grey-bearded face illuminated by the light of several altar candles fixed to a sconce. Attempting to light a fire, some half-a-dozen dark-skinned and dejected looking people sat or slumped on boxes around him.

  Rebel gave a low, grumbling growl as he picked up the strangers’ scents. Saville muzzled his snout with his palm.

  Josiah looked up from what he was doing and a grin split his chin from the rest of his weathered face. ‘Come out, you young varmint. I may be old but I ain’t deaf, not by a long chalk.’

  Kicking the rope ladder over the side, the two men descended and indulged in an emotion-charged moment or two of backslapping.

  Josiah had taken a risk. He must have slipped down the Bristol Channel and around the coast in full view of the black-birders. Dubiously, Saville wondered if his friend would be able to get back safely.

  But Josiah Harrison had other plans. ‘They’re on to me, so this will be my last trip,’ he stated. ‘I’ve found myself a widder-woman to wed, and we’ve bought ourselves a tavern overlooking the channel. It’s called, The Leaky Boat, and you’re welcome to drop in for an ale any time you’re in Bristol.’

  ‘What will you do with the, Nellie Jane?’

  ‘The weather should hold up for a day or two. I’ll sail her back tomorrow, just as if I’d been out after a shoal. Then I’ll set fire to her in sight of land and row myself back to shore in the dingy. Nellie Jane be weakened by worm, now, and would break up at the smell of a gale in the wind. Better she goes down dignified and with her secrets intact. Much better, especially since she’s insured for more than she’s worth.’

  Saville grinned. ‘Which, being a magistrate, is something I’d prefer not know about.’

  ‘Aye, well.’ Josiah gave a cackle of laughter. ‘We’ve all got something to hide, I reckon. ‘Besides, it’s about time I got something for my sins, because be damned if I ever profited from them in the past. Nor did your pa, come to that.’

  The fire crackled into flame; the smoke drifted up to the cavernous roof to disappear into fissures.

  Saville spared a glance for the slaves, who’d begun to talk amongst themselves. There were four men and two women, one of which who was heavily with child.

  ‘We’ll get this lot settled in, then you can come up to the house for the night. There’s a lady I’d like you to meet on the morrow.’

  ‘You’ve taken a wife.’ Josiah grinned ‘I can’t say I’m surprised. It was about time you found a lass to warm your bed, and fill that big, empty old house of yours up with sprats.’

  ‘It’s Seth Adam’s daughter.’

  Josiah shook his head. ‘Am I to understand that you took young Evelyn in, knowing her fortune was earned from the sweat of slavery? Why… you was adamant you wouldn’t wed her when I first suggested it.’

  ‘How her fortune was obtained isn’t her fault.’

  ‘All the same, I’m surprised. Seth Adams didn’t give a rat’s damn for anyone’s rights. He took what he wanted and discarded that which he didn’t.’

  ‘Including you,’ Saville suggested wryly. ‘He didn’t give a damn about anyone except himself when the chips were down.’

  ‘True. And that included women. Seth was murdered about a year after he seduced Blanche Seaton, who was just out of school. He led her into a life of debauchery then discarded her. They think Blanche’s brother did for him. Francis Seaton has the reputation of being a vicious bugger, especially where his slaves are concerned. I guess we’ll never find out for sure if he killed him or not.’

  Interested, Saville gazed at him. ‘What happened to Blanche Seaton and the child?’

  ‘Blanche took to the streets and died, choking on her own vomit in a back alley. The child Seth foisted on to her was disowned by the Seaton family and packed off to an orphanage.’

  How sad were the situations sometimes forced on the innocents, Saville thought. ‘How do you know all this?’

  Josiah shrugged. ‘I was one of the executors of Seth’s will. His conscience must have pricked him at the end, for he left his bastard a small legacy. Theo and I discussed it and we decided to use it to pay for her keep and education until she was old enough to join the order. To avoid complications, we thought it best to keep the child’s existence a secret from Evelyn.’

  ‘So, if Evelyn Adams had perished, there would have been another daughter to inherit?’

  ‘I guess the girl would’ve been able to make a bid for Seth’s fortune as long as she could’ve proved she was his natural daughter. But that’s by the by now the pair of you are wed.’

  Saville’s lips tightened and he grunted. ‘Miss Adams is my guest, not my wife. She’s contracted to John.’

  A puzzled look crossed Josiah’s face. ‘So what’s she doing at Rushford?’

  ‘Her ship foundered. The girl was put aboard another, which docked at Poole instead of London.’

  Josiah nodded. ‘As I recall, Evelyn did seem more like John’s type. She would have been about ten years old the last time I set eyes on her, She was a plain, lonely child, badly educated and easy to overlook.’

  Saville frowned. ‘Both you and Theo Chambers were mistaken in your
assessment of her. Evelyn has turned out to be lively and charming. As for her wit, there is nothing of the dullard in her that I can see. She is fair of face, a beauty, in fact.’

  Josiah flicked him a look and grinned, as if he’d detected the admiration in his voice.

  Saville’s shrug was one of studied nonchalance. ‘At least, that’s the way she struck me.’

  ‘She was only a young’n when I met her. Could be she’s blossomed since then,’ he conceded. ‘Theo was a miserable so and so, and too old and set in his bachelor ways to be her guardian. But he managed the estate well, was decent and scrupulously honest, and did his best for her. He had nowhere else to go and needed the wage.’

  Josiah sighed and, turning away, called over one of the slaves to explain that they could possibly be in the caves for several weeks. He pointed out the chambers to be used for sleeping, pointing out the ones prone to flooding. He helped them with the distribution of utensils, bedding, warm clothes and dry food such as oats and barley flour. There was a good supply of driftwood, to provide fuel for the fire.

  Saville added a firm warning that they should be careful not to be spotted, and to venture on to the beach only at night when the tide was low. ‘My steward or myself will call on you every day. I’ll make arrangements for you to be conveyed to London as soon as possible. Or you can be shipped back home, if that’s what you wish.’

  Home was probably the same West African coast they’d left behind, where they’d most likely fall prey to the same traders who’d grown fat by selling them into slavery in the first place. One of the slaves rolled his eyes in fear, thinking, no doubt, of the stinking slave ships, on which hundreds of men were usually chained together for the duration of the voyage.

  ‘Perhaps you’d prefer paid work in London. There are many homes with sympathetic masters who need house servants. They will pay a wage and treat you kindly.’