Smuggler's Moon

by Cynthia Wright

  Nodding vigorously, Tristan exclaimed, “Just so! Sebastian, why not tell her ladyship? She is such a levelheaded female. No doubt she would be happy to be enlightened, and you would be in a much better temper once that great secret is out in the open.”

  “But, then it wouldn’t be a secret anymore. And in case you have forgotten, lives are at stake, and that Searcher of Salt would doubtless be very happy to not only entrap a band of smugglers, but also to put them in prison so that he might have Julia all to himself!”

  “Do you mean to imply that she might divulge the secret?” Tristan exclaimed. “Perhaps to Lynton himself? Oh no, I think you are wrong, my lord. Quite wrong. She’s not that sort at all.”

  “It’s true,” Keswick chimed in. “Her ladyship is made of much sterner stuff than that.”

  Sebastian wanted to crack both their heads with his mother’s favorite Spode teapot. “Sterner stuff or not, my wife is still human—and Adolphus Lynton is much cannier than he appears to be. I can’t take the chance that he might trick her into accidentally divulging something to him.” His expression was stormy, and his eyes held something deeper. “I’m concerned not only about the lives of all the men who are part of our enterprise, but also about my wife. Can’t you see—her safety must come above any reservations we may have about excluding her from our plans.”

  “Of course, you are right,” Keswick murmured. He rubbed his jaw. “The question is, how do you mean to do it? Her ladyship is not some meek, submissive bride who accepts what is told to her without question.”

  “I can assure you,” Sebastian ground out, “that I will find a way. Her protection must come before the pleasures of marriage.”

  Tristan stood up. “Clearly, you know best. And now I am off to Polruan to fetch the Peregrine and sail her back to Lanwyllow. Our friend at the boatyard has finished making the special alterations you requested, in preparation for our impending journey.”

  “Excellent. I’ll come with you. It will do me good to stand on the deck of a ship.” Sebastian rose, draining his teacup, and looked at his manservant. “I’d like you to stay here and keep an eye on her ladyship.”

  “We shall try, my lord, but you of all people should know that that is easier said than done…”

  * * *

  Julia was relieved when Sebastian and Tristan left together. She stood in the upstairs window overlooking the courtyard with Clover cuddled in her arms and watched them ride off up the rutted track that passed for Trevarre Hall’s entrance lane.

  Not for the first time, she wondered why she worked so hard to make their home more inviting when her husband couldn’t be bothered to do his part. Keswick seemed to care more than his master. Since their arrival in Cornwall, he had given up most of his valet duties, trading them for the more physically demanding tasks of getting the stables back in order and organizing much of the work that needed to be done to maintain the hedges, fix the gates, and repair the countless broken bits of the old manor house.

  Although Clover was fast asleep in her arms, Julia set her down on her favorite chair in the extra bedchamber. Dick had been lurking around the corridors that morning, so she closed the big door on her way out and latched it.

  The woods and the creek were calling to her. Julia hurried down the narrow steps and came into the kitchen, only to find Keswick sitting at the gate-leg table, chatting amiably with Primmie. The girl stopped in the midst of stirring the pot of vegetable soup that simmered over the fire. Lifting her apron, she wiped her brow.

  “’Twill be a warm day,” she told Julia.

  “I think it already is. Perhaps you should put a lid on that and let the fire die back.” Smiling at Keswick, Julia added, “Since the ill-tempered Lord Sebastian isn’t here to scold me, I have decided to treat myself to a stroll along the Hall Walk and a visit to Pont Pill to check on our mother swan.”

  “An excellent plan, my lady. And we’ve brought you something to read when you pause to rest.” Smiling, he extended a letter. “The mail coach brought it from Bath.”

  Her heart leaped at the sight of her sister’s familiar handwriting. “How lovely. Oh, thank you so much, Keswick. You’re a dear!”

  Before she could leave, Keswick added, “And, we would encourage you to be forgiving of his lordship. He isn’t as black-hearted as he might seem.”

  “I shall try to remember your advice,” Julia sighed, her heart aching. “It isn’t easy, though, Keswick. He is a hard man, and he will not let me forget that it was not his choice to marry me.”

  “We believe that ‘stubborn’ might be the word to describe his lordship.”

  With a rueful smile, Julia waved goodbye and set off past the old chapel and the apple orchard, then over the meadow toward Pont. The Hall Walk, which overlooked the river, was a far prettier route, but this was quicker.

  Julia had put the letter into a pocket tied to the waist of her gown, and it swung two and fro as she scrambled over the stile that kept the cows and sheep out of the woods above Pont. Down the path she went, her footing sure after countless walks like this one. The tide was in, the creek shimmered dreamily in the mid-day sun, and a turquoise kingfisher swooped down over the water.

  Her first stop was always the swan’s nest. Trees lined the bank of the creek, and golden light spilled between the leafy branches, dappling the moss and rocks under Julia’s slippers. After many visits, the mother swan had grown accustomed to her, so she didn’t pause before rounding the last old oak tree.

  The nest, big enough for her to crouch inside herself if she had cared to try, was right where it had been for weeks. It took a few moments for Julia to realize that the mother swan was not in it. Peeking inside, she saw the big shards of eggshell. Her heart began to pound.

  She turned and went back, skirting the edge of the widening creek. Before the little stone footbridge at Pont came into view, Julia saw them. There was the mother, gliding regally in a beam of sunlight, with a quartet of gawky, tan-and-gray cygnets paddling close behind her.

  “Oh, you did it!” she cried. “Bravo!” Tears stung her eyes as the swan slowed and seemed to look her way in greeting. Julia took one of two biscuits out of her pocket and threw pieces of it onto the water. The cygnets followed their mother’s lead and dipped their black beaks down to gobble the food.

  By the time Julia reached the footbridge, she could see the father swan swimming toward her up the creek, proud and strong. It looked as if a knife was parting the water in his wake, and she was reminded of Sebastian’s male assertiveness.

  She returned to the little rubble-slate boathouse and perched on a flat rock before slipping the letter from her pocket and breaking the wax seal. For a moment, Julia just looked at the words written by her sister. It was strange to see Sarah’s familiar hand in the midst of this new world she had come to love so much, a world that seemed a lifetime away from Bath.

  On the banks where the tide had begun to recede, a pair of curlews stepped delicately over the mud. She watched them for a moment before turning her attention to the letter. Sarah wrote of how much they missed her, and how curious they all were about her new life, especially since receiving Julia’s hastily composed note explaining that she and Sebastian were living in Cornwall, not London. Sarah wrote: We beg you to write to us and enlighten us further!

  Sarah went on to say that their mother was much the same, still retreating to her bed whenever a challenge presented itself. Freddy was spending more time than ever in the minaret, studying, and they had found a new, young tutor for him who is doing a splendid job! They all continued to grieve the loss of their father, but at least we remain in our beloved Turbans, and for that we must thank you, dearest Julia. I can assure you that I understand all too well that you sacrificed yourself for the good of your family!

  Julia set the letter in her lap and considered her sister’s words. How could she ever explain to Sarah that she had—always!—secretly thrilled to each moment in Sebastian’s presence, and that it was sheer bliss to lie in hi
s arms in the intimacy of their marriage bed. In other dealings, he was difficult, even impossible at times, but she had come to relish the to-and-fro of their relationship.

  Pondering these feelings, Julia felt her heart begin to race and her cheeks grow warm. It was true that she loved this enchanted world in Cornwall, but her new roots went deeper than that. Even if she could turn back the clock and return to Turbans, she would not.

  How I miss our whispered late-night chats in your bed, wrote Sarah. Life is not the same for me without my bright and resourceful older sister. Will Lord Satan allow you to visit Bath and reunite with your family again?

  Although she smiled at her sister’s reference to “Lord Satan,” Julia realized that she had no desire to leave Trevarre Hall—or Sebastian—and go to Bath. Perhaps her family could visit Cornwall?

  Sarah’s parting words were, You are ever in my thoughts, darling sister. Will you be shocked if I confess that I long to know what…it was like? Was it a sacred union, or something much more carnal? I hope that Lord Satan was, at least, respectful of you.

  I send affectionate regards from all of your family,

  Your devoted sister, Sarah.

  Julia re-read the final sentences with a bemused smile. Respectful! She gave a soft laugh. Her husband was not respectful, especially when they had engaged in the intimacies of wedded life, but she preferred him that way. It was certainly not respect that she had searched for when she embarked on the masquerade that began their marriage.

  With that, Julia folded Sarah’s letter, returned it to her pocket, and started back to the Hall. This time, after climbing back up the wooded path, she continued to follow the creek as it flowed out into the River Fowey.

  Then, just before Julia turned into the leafy tunnel of the Hall Walk, she glimpsed a splendid boat sailing upriver. Something about it made her stop, stare, and sigh. The small ship was so graceful, her sails snow-white against the blue sky and the sparkle of the water. The figurehead that extended high above the bow was a bird, Julia decided; a hawk, perhaps. She wished she had Freddy’s telescope to get a clearer look at the men on deck. One of them, who had broad shoulders and dark hair, reminded her of Sebastian, but of course it couldn’t be him…

  Her reverie was broken by a soft whimpering sound. It seemed to come from the wooded bank that sloped down toward the far-away river, and the sound held a sense of urgency, as if an animal was in distress.

  Julia acted immediately. She left the path and clambered down through the leaves and branches, following the soft cry of distress. When she saw the young badger, lying in a hole filled with dried leaves, her heart sank. Its back foot was caught in a crudely made snare, its eyes were closed, and its cries were growing softer by the moment.

  Without a thought to propriety, Julia found a piece of sharp rock to make a tear in the muslin of her gown. She ripped away the front of the skirt until she’d separated a piece large enough to hold the badger. The snare, cobbled together with bits of wood, leather, and wire, was broken easily enough, but she couldn’t free the animal’s bloody leg without help. It was a risk, she knew, to touch a wild badger, for their teeth could be fierce. But she was unafraid. Something in the small animal’s helpless expression tore at her heart, and she knew that it was near death.

  “Now, you must not fear me,” she murmured, spreading out her torn skirt over the cub. “I know you are hurt, and I am going to help you. Will you trust me? There’s a sweet girl.”

  Julia continued to whisper soothingly to the badger as she gathered it into the fabric until all its face and body, as well as the deadly snare, were snugly enclosed. Fortunately, it was young and light enough for her to lift. The badger gave a cry of pain when she held it against her midsection and got to her feet, but then the injured animal grew quiet.

  Scrambling up the hillside with her burden, Julia reached the Hall Walk and set off toward home.

  “It’s all right,” she murmured. “You’re safe with me. I don’t imagine that your mother gave you a name, so I’m going to call you Daisy.”

  Chapter 20

  Nearly a half hour later, Julia pushed through the gate behind Trevarre Hall’s farmyard. There was blood on her hands, her lungs burned, and her slippered feet were bruised. All the farm workers were off working in the fields, but as she passed the cattle barn and the piggery, she saw Keswick walking a lame horse.

  “Oh, Keswick! I’ve never been so glad to see someone in my life.” The expression on his face when he looked up and focused her torn gown and her ankles showing beneath the hem of her thin chemise was nearly enough to make her smile.

  “What’s happened, my lady? Have you been attacked?”

  “No, I’m fine—just a bit tired.” She leaned back against the stone wall of the cattle barn and pulled aside the edges of the cloth surrounding the badger cub. “Look, Keswick. She’s been hurt. I had to bring her home.”

  His eyes widened and his white brows flew up. “A badger! God’s blood, give the thing to us. You could be badly bitten!”

  “Little Daisy won’t bite me. She’s nearly dead, I fear, but I am determined to help her.”

  He didn’t question the fact that she had already given a name to this wild creature. Instead, he took the bundle from her and led the way into the stables where he had a room he shared with the blacksmith. Soon, Julia had made a little bed for the unconscious badger out of some old horse blankets, but she kept the torn gown as the top layer, agreeing with Keswick that the animal would remember her scent.

  She held the badger while he cut away the wire that bound the cub’s leg. Together, they cleaned and dressed the wound.

  When they were finished and Julia remained kneeling beside the little animal, Keswick shook his head with a sigh. “It doesn’t look good, my lady.”

  “We shall do our best. At least she is a bit older and won’t have to be bottle-fed. Do we have any earthworms? I seem to recall that that’s what they like to eat.”

  He gave a snort of laughter. “My lady—”

  “Yes, I know, you think I’m ridiculous, but I don’t care. I have a special relationship with animals like Daisy. I always have.”

  “We have no doubt of that.”

  “I will ask you to sit with her while I go inside and change my gown. Then I shall return and stay with Daisy. I think that she knows that I’m here.” She folded one side of the torn gown over the badger cub, like a blanket, and touched its black-and-white striped head. “She’s a lovely little thing, don’t you think so?”

  “My lady,” he replied, “we will sit with this badger if that is your wish, but we refuse to call it lovely.”

  * * *

  Throughout the afternoon spent sailing the Peregrine upriver, Sebastian kept the unopened letter from Raveneau in his coat pocket. Once the boat had been tied up at the Lanwyllow quay, tucked into a secret location off Lerryn Creek, he bade Tristan goodbye and headed home.

  Riding up the overgrown drive to his own estate, Sebastian slowed to a stop near the stone gateposts and dismounted. He then led Lucifer down a little-used path that brought them to the 14th century chapel perched on a hill behind the farm.

  No one ever came here anymore. Sebastian’s mother had often bemoaned the fate of the chapel, which had been built by her Wentworth ancestors. She had once proudly told her son that King Charles I had worshipped here during a visit to what was then Wentworth Hall, but today the chapel was a virtual ruin

  Sebastian sat on the steps leading to the arched north entrance and remembered the morning he and Julia had stopped here. Although he’d known the chapel all his life and had never given it much thought, he now took another look, seeing it through her fresh eyes. Perhaps she was right; it was a shame to see something so special continue to decay

  Remembering the letter, he broke the seal and spread out the page. The sight of Raveneau’s strong handwriting made his heart catch, for something about it was arrestingly familiar.

  Lord Sebastian,

  I brin
g you greetings from all of my family, especially Devon, who I fear has fallen under your spell. She urges me daily to make contact with you and your bride, to inquire after your well being, and to invite you to visit us.

  I confess that I find myself thinking of you as well. Perhaps it is my past connection with your mother that causes me to feel close to you, and of course your recent visit with us has strengthened that bond. Allow me to tell you again that you may call on me, for friendship or assistance, at any time.

  By the time you receive this letter, Devon and I will have traveled to France. In Paris, I shall meet with Talleyrand at President Adams’s request, then we will go on to Roscoff, on the Brittany coast, for some shipping business. When the clouds lift and we are able to see Cornwall across the Channel, I shall think of you, my friend.

  Yrs., etc., Raveneau.

  Sebastian felt a strange twinge of emotion, and his eyes misted slightly as he stared at the scrawled signature. This was the sort of affectionate letter he had always hoped to receive from his own father, but it had never come.

  “Ah, there you are, my lord.”

  He looked up to see Keswick walking up the little hill behind the stone cattle barn. Lucifer went to meet him and accept a piece of carrot.

  “I thought to steal a few moments of solitude,” Sebastian said.

  “From us? Surely you jest, my lord. Besides, there is too much of importance on your schedule for us to leave you alone.”

  “I can assure you, old scold, that I am fully aware of my own schedule.” He got to his feet and brushed bits of straw from his breeches. “You’ll be pleased to know that I just read Raveneau’s letter.”

  “We are pleased indeed. Do you mean to ask him for help?”

  “Help?” One of Sebastian’s brows slanted upward. “I don’t bloody need help, and even if I did, I shouldn’t ask Raveneau. I’m a grown man, Keswick. Surely you haven’t forgotten that?”