Tucker's Inn

by Tucker's Inn (retail) (epub)

  ‘I shall not come down until I know who you are and what you want!’ I called back. ‘If you really are from Louis, you must know I cannot take that risk.’

  ‘It’s Dartington!’ he called back, and his upper-crust vowels and something in his demeanour suddenly struck a chord with me.

  ‘Sir Jeremy Dartington?’ I was incredulous that a member of the aristocracy should be here on the doorstep in the middle of the night, yet mindful that the Brotherhood of the Lynx very likely comprised aristocrats, and by necessity worked under cover of darkness.

  ‘Yes. I’m a friend of Louis’. Now, will you come down and open the door?’

  ‘For what reason?’ I still needed to be sure. ‘Have you a message from Louis? If so, you can tell me what it is from where you are. There’s no one to overhear.’

  ‘More than a message. I have someone here who needs to be inside, out of the cold night air.’

  ‘But who?’

  The carriage door opened, the slight figure of a boy climbed down and stood on the driveway beneath my window, rubbing sleep out of bleary eyes.

  ‘Louis’ son!’ Sir Jeremy called back. ‘Pierre Fletcher! He’s eight years old, cold and exhausted. Now will you come down and open this damned door?’

  Fourteen

  My feet flew me down the stairs. With trembling hands I fumbled with the heavy bolts and threw the door open. The boy was on the doorstep now with Sir Jeremy, the man’s arms round his shoulders. Shadowed there with the moonlight behind him he looked very vulnerable – and very frightened. A thousand questions were bombarding me, but for the moment I asked none of them. All that mattered was getting this child – Louis’ child – into the warmth and safety of the house.

  ‘Bring him through to the kitchen,’ I said. ‘The fire will be dead in the parlour, but the range will still be alight.’

  I closed the door, bolted it once more, and led the way along the hall. The range was indeed still glowing. I poked it to life so that the flames flared up, hot and bright, and lit a lamp. Then, unable to contain my anxiety a moment longer, I turned to Sir Jeremy.

  ‘Where is Louis? Why is he not here?’

  ‘He’s still in France. We’ll talk about it later.’ He pulled out a chair and motioned the boy to sit. ‘Is there something to eat?’ he asked. ‘God knows when Pierre last had a meal. It’s been a long and arduous journey. But you’re safe now, lad, in your father’s house as I promised, and Flora will look after you, I’m sure.’

  ‘Of course I will! There’ll be bread and cheese and maybe some cold meat…’ Even as I spoke I was opening the larder door, fetching the plate with the leftovers of the lamb roast, covered now with a weighted muslin, a loaf of bread from the crock, and a dish of butter. ‘I’ll make a hot drink, too. You look frozen, Pierre.’

  He said nothing, looking at me with suspicion, and I wondered just how much of what I was saying he understood.

  ‘Do you speak English?’ I asked.

  ‘Of course I do!’ His tone was scornful, full of resentment, and I was reminded sharply of Antoinette. Those suspicious eyes were like hers, too, green and slanting, and like her he was slightly built. But for the rest of him… if I had wondered if Louis was naive to take on trust that Pierre was his son, my doubts disappeared in a moment. The set of his head, the shape of his nose and mouth – oh, he was Louis’ son, all right.

  ‘Would you like some warm milk?’ I asked him.

  ‘I don’t drink milk. I’m eight years old!’ The same disdain. Oh, there were going to be spats between him and Antoinette, and no mistake!

  ‘Chocolate then,’ I suggested.

  He said nothing and I set some milk to warm on the range, cut a hunk of bread and a few slices of meat, and set them in front of him. At once he began to eat ravenously.

  ‘Will your hospitality extend to me also?’ Sir Jeremy asked with a slight apologetic smile. ‘I’ve had little to eat today either.’

  ‘Of course… forgive me…’ I cut more bread and meat and piled it on a plate for him. ‘Would you like a drink too?’

  ‘I certainly would – but perhaps something a little stronger than hot chocolate,’ he said wryly.

  ‘Ale?’ I suggested. ‘Cognac?’

  ‘Both, I think. The ale to quench my thirst and the cognac to warm my stomach. It’s a cold night to be on the water.’

  ‘You sailed with Pierre?’ I asked, fetching the jug of ale.

  ‘I did. We met at a little cove on the north coast of France, did we not, Pierre?’

  ‘And Louis…?’ Try as I might, I could not stop myself from asking about Louis.

  ‘I met with him briefly, yes. He handed Pierre into my custody and asked that I bring him to Belvedere. To you. But as I already said, we’ll talk later.’ His tone was decisive, his eyes met mine briefly and flicked meaningfully to Pierre.

  My heart lurched as I took his meaning. He did not want to discuss Louis or his plans in front of the boy. Pierre, however, had other ideas.

  ‘He’s gone back for Mama,’ he said, his mouth full of roast lamb.

  My heart lurched again. Louis was not yet out of danger then.

  ‘Were you not together?’ All very well for Sir Jeremy to say he would talk to me later; I was too avid for news to wait.

  ‘Mama is staying with friends,’ Pierre said. ‘I have not seen her for a long time.’

  He said it as if it was quite a usual occurrence. So Lisette was no better a mother to him than she had been to Antoinette, I thought. Unless… Could it be that she had been taken by the Revolutionaries, and he had been told she was with friends so as not to frighten him? If so, then Louis’ mission would be more difficult and dangerous yet. There were ways, I supposed, that prisoners could be helped to escape the overcrowded gaols, daring raids were not unheard of, and some guards were not above accepting bribes. But the risks to anyone attempting such a feat were high indeed.

  But if Lisette had been taken, then surely the rest of the household, and even Pierre, would have been taken too? Age was no barrier to the zeal of the Revolutionaries; a hated aristocrat was a hated aristocrat, no matter how young he might be.

  Sir Jeremy’s voice cut into my racing thoughts. ‘Pierre, remember what I told you!’ His tone was a warning one. ‘You must not mention your Mama’s whereabouts to anyone!’

  The boy looked up and I saw both guilt and the fear with which he must have lived for many months in those sharp green eyes.

  ‘But we are in England now! And you said Flora was a friend!’

  ‘That is so. But you must trust no one, not even here in England. To speak loosely is to place lives at risk. The life of your Mama and those who seek to help her. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Well, no harm has been done this time,’ Sir Jeremy said more gently. ‘Flora is one of us. At least, her father was.’ His eyes met mine. ‘Your father was a brave man, Flora. You should be proud of him.’

  ‘Indeed I am,’ I said. ‘And of course I would do or say nothing which might endanger Louis or any of the Brotherhood. I pray nightly for his safe return, and success with his mission.’

  For a little while he and Pierre ate in silence and I noticed that the boy’s eyes were beginning to droop. He must be exhausted, I thought; now the warmth of the kitchen, the hot chocolate and a full stomach were conspiring to take him to the borders of sleep.

  ‘I’ll go and see if the bed is made up in the guest room,’ I said.

  I lit a candle and went upstairs, through the silent sleeping house, a feeling of unreality settling on me though I went through the motions as if this were an ordinary day and the boy downstairs simply an ordinary visitor.

  I had thought Louis would have left instructions for the room to be made ready since it had been his intention and fervent hope that his son would need it, but perhaps he had been wary of alerting the staff, for though the counterpane was neatly pulled up, there were no sheets beneath it, and I did not
know where any could be found, for housekeeping played no part in my life at Belvedere.

  Perhaps for tonight the best thing would be for me to let Pierre have my own bed, I thought, and I would sleep downstairs on the chaise. But if the little boy slept late in the morning, as well he might after his arduous journey, it would be most inconvenient, for I would be unable to wash, or brush my hair, or have access to clean clothing. A better option might be for him to sleep in Louis’ room. His bed would certainly be made up and ready for his return, and I felt sure he would have no objection to his son using it.

  I made my way along the corridor to the master suite where I had lain and loved with Louis on the night before his departure. The memory of it was poignantly sharp as I turned the handle and opened the door, a warmth as my heart and my body remembered the delights we had shared, a sadness from knowing we would never again be together that way. Then I stopped short, holding the candle aloft, and staring in shocked disbelief.

  The room was full of Gavin’s things, his cloak thrown casually down on a chair, a book and his writing materials on the desk, a pair of boots discarded in the middle of the floor. The more I looked, the more of Gavin’s possessions I could see.

  I experienced a flash of outrage, and marched through to the bedroom. Just as I had thought, Gavin’s nightshirt lay spread out ready and waiting for him on the bed. I had suspected he might be playing at being master in Louis’ absence, but this…!

  The outrage swelled until I thought it would choke me. Gavin had moved himself lock, stock and barrel into Louis’ rooms! It would have been bad enough if they had been friends, but considering the bad feeling between them and Louis’ insistence that Gavin should not live under his roof, but in the house in Dartmouth and the lodge, there was something deeply sinister about what he was doing. It was almost as if he were staking a claim. Almost as if he believed Louis would not be coming back. For if he did, and found Gavin here, or even suspected what he had done, there would be hell to pay.

  Clearly I could not put Pierre in Louis’ room. Though Gavin had not returned, and it might well be that he was staying the night elsewhere, there was always the chance that he might yet come home. To have him blundering into the room where Pierre was sleeping would give the boy a terrible fright, and heaven only knew how Gavin would respond to finding him in the bed he had appropriated as his own. No, there was nothing for it but to return to my original plan and let Pierre use my room.

  In the event, when I returned to the kitchen, I found that Pierre had fallen asleep at the table, his head on his arms, and when I appraised Sir Jeremy of my suggestion, he would not hear of it.

  ‘Pierre will be perfectly fine on the chaise,’ he said. ‘He’s smaller than you and you need a night’s rest in your own bed to be fresh to deal with the situation the morrow. Show me the way and I’ll carry him through.’

  I led the way to the parlour and Pierre barely stirred as Sir Jeremy set him down on the chaise. I fetched a rug and tucked it around him, my heart filling with tenderness as I did so. Just so might Louis have looked at his age, this boy who was his son and who might, for all we knew, already be an orphan.

  ‘I assume you are one of the members of the Brotherhood of the Lynx,’ I said when Sir Jeremy and I had returned to the kitchen.

  ‘I have that honour,’ he confirmed with a self-deprecating smile. ‘I play but a small part compared with Louis, but I like to think I can be of some assistance to him in the mission he has undertaken. It is my task, sometimes, to escort the refugees to a place of safety, and that is what I was assigned to on this occasion.’

  ‘But Louis, you say, is still in France.’

  ‘Attempting to rescue Lisette, yes. He found the boy at an address he had learned from… his contact… staying with a family who have, it seems, enough friends in the new order to keep him safe at least for a while. But as Pierre said, his mother had gone elsewhere.’

  ‘Why did she not take him with her?’ I demanded.

  ‘I cannot say. Doubtless she had her reasons. And doubtless they involved some gentleman,’ he said tersely.

  ‘Then why has Louis gone looking for her?’

  ‘Because that is what he believes he must do. It can only be a matter of time before she is arrested, wherever she is,’ Sir Jeremy stated. ‘The family is much hated by the Revolutionaries. There’s no doubt they’ll catch up with her before long.’

  My patience with a woman who could betray her husband and abandon both her children was at an end.

  ‘It’s no more than she deserves,’ I said shortly. ‘Why should Louis risk his life for such a faithless creature?’

  ‘She is the mother of his children,’ Sir Jeremy said. ‘Louis is a man of honour. He believes he owes her a debt of care. If she prefers to stay with her paramour, whoever he might be, well, then at least Louis will have done what he could. But I doubt she will do that. Lisette will choose to save her own skin rather than remain at any man’s side, if I know anything of her.’

  ‘Did you know her then?’ I asked. ‘When she was living here at Belvedere?’

  He nodded. ‘Oh yes, I knew her.’

  ‘And what was she like?’ I could not keep myself from asking.

  ‘Very beautiful. Very spoiled. And –’ he hesitated – ‘there was a darkness about her. I don’t know what it was, but there was a darkness that somehow was a part of the attraction she held for every man who came within her orbit. She did not make Louis happy, that I do know, and she won’t make him happy now. But Louis ceased to expect to be happy a long time ago. Duty is his reason for living. It has been so for many years. Until perhaps…’

  His eyes scanned my face thoughtfully, as if he knew my secrets, and I felt the colour rising in my cheeks.

  ‘How long do you think it will take him to reach Lisette?’ I asked, anxious to cover my loss of composure as well as to learn what I could. He shook his head.

  ‘Two or three days to find her, the same perhaps to get her back to where the ship will be waiting. If they are lucky and escape capture, that is. Who knows?’

  ‘The ship will be waiting?’ I asked anxiously.

  ‘It will return tomorrow, with a fresh cargo of wool which, at this moment, no doubt, men are labouring hard to load. Then it will hide out, waiting for Louis. Pray God he reaches it safely, but I truly believe this must be his last venture into such dangerous territory. Each time, he attracts a little more attention. Sooner or later, suspicion is bound to attach itself to him, and when it does…’ He shook his head. ‘His life will not be worth a sou.’

  I shivered.

  ‘Let us not dwell on that, however,’ Sir Jeremy continued. ‘When Louis delivered Pierre into my care, he bid me bring him to you. He was confident that you would take care of him until such time as, God willing, he is able to do so himself. I would willingly have offered him shelter at my own home, but Louis was adamant that he wanted him to come directly to Belvedere, so that he may begin to put down roots.’

  ‘Yes, I can understand that,’ I said.

  ‘I do apologize however for having had to wake you, and no doubt frighten you half to death,’ Sir Jeremy said. ‘The fact of the matter is, however, that until this last mission is successfully completed, stealth and secrecy are vital.’

  I suppressed a sudden almost hysterical urge to laugh aloud, for the absurdity of the situation dawned on me suddenly.

  ‘But how am I supposed to keep Pierre a secret? A boy who has suddenly arrived from nowhere in the middle of the night? A French boy?’

  Sir Jeremy spread his hands helplessly. ‘The servants will know, of course, but all they will know is that he is here. And servants are trained not to ask questions. Their livelihoods depend on discretion, and in any case they are not of a class likely to have connections with those who would betray the Brotherhood to the French.’

  I thought of the men who had come to Tucker’s Grave. They had not belonged to the class Sir Jeremy clearly thought would have the necessary co
nnections to be a danger. But they had murdered my father all the same.

  ‘What must be kept secret is my involvement in all this,’ Sir Jeremy went on. ‘And most important of all, no one must learn of Louis’ likely whereabouts whilst he is in France. His life depends on it.’

  I nodded. ‘No one will learn anything from me.’

  He moved to the door. ‘Louis said you could be trusted, and now that I have met you I share his confidence. I know you will look after Pierre until Louis is here to do so himself. And I know you will protect Louis’ secrets with your life if necessary.’

  ‘That is in no doubt,’ I vowed.

  When he had left I bolted the door after him and looked in again on Pierre. He was still sleeping soundly as a baby. There was no more I could do that night. But I was unwilling to return to my room. If Pierre should wake and find himself in a strange place he would be frightened. I should be there to comfort him. And I would not, in any case, sleep any more that night.

  I went upstairs, fetched another blanket, and settled myself in the big wing chair in the parlour where I would know at once if Pierre stirred. I left the lamp burning and sat watching him as he slept, and wondered at how events had turned my simple, pleasant, ordinary life upside down.

  I had lost my father and my home, I had found such a love as I had never dreamed of, and lost that too. Now, all that mattered was the welfare of the little boy Louis had risked his life to rescue from the Terror. And that Louis himself should come safe home.

  * * *

  I was wrong to think I would not sleep. After a while my thoughts became muddled and fuzzy, my eyelids drooped, and utter weariness overcame me. I slept, though it was an uneasy slumber, punctuated by wild and disturbing dreams, and when the grey light of dawn crept in at the window I came slowly back to full wakefulness, all too aware of the stiffness in my neck and in my limbs, and the unpleasant furring of my tongue.