by Janet Woods
‘I quite agree, Madame,’ Magnus said with a grin in her direction.
Sarette gasped and placed her hands over her ears, but although she felt quite shocked by the intimate talk, she also wanted to laugh, because the conversation was so unlike the Magnus she’d grown used to. But then, she conceded, he had never allowed her to get close enough to really know him.
‘See if there’s any daywear you have that will fit her, while I take care of some business, I need some extra staff for over the New Year. No bustles and nothing from your special stock. Is that understood. She’s pert enough.’
Sarette was pushed and pulled into a dazzling array of outfits, and soon there was a pile of silks, satins, velvet, chiffons and lace. She’d never seen anything quite so pretty, or worn anything quite so pleasing against her skin.
‘Madame makes lovely clothes, but the salon looks so shabby,’ she said to the assistant.
‘She has a small clientele, and her prices are outrageous, but she’s mean with money. There’s a workroom upstairs and Madame’s a stickler for good work. I’ve learned a lot from her. One day I’m going to open my own salon. I’ve not seen your gentleman in here before.’
Something lodged in the corner of Sarette’s mind. ‘Do many gentlemen bring their wives shopping?’
The girl giggled. ‘But you’re not Mr Kern’s wife, you’re his ward,’ she pointed out. ‘Your gentleman is very handsome. Usually it’s older men who come in here with their young ladies. Madame does a saucy line in undergarments.’
Sarette blushed as she caught on, then she gasped. ‘I’m exactly what Mr Kern said I am. His ward.’
‘Sorry, I’m sure, Miss.’
The curtain was pushed aside by Madame Marie’s stick. ‘Fanny, you’re being indiscreet, and I won’t have you gossiping to my clients. Fetch some tea for us. The young lady and I will converse while we’re waiting for Mr Kern to return.
Sarette was simmering with curiosity when she finally left the salon. ‘You should have warned me about Madame Marie’s curiosity.’
‘As a dressmaker, she’s a genius. I don’t know much about the other side of her business, apart from her reputation.’
‘She and her assistant assumed that I was your mistress.’
He grinned. ‘Did they? I hope you weren’t embarrassed by it.’
‘A little. Do you have a mistress?’
For a moment he looked taken aback, then he gave an easy smile. ‘It’s not a question you should ask a man, but no,’ he said quite truthfully, because wasn’t Isabelle part of his past now? ‘Have you finished prying into the private life of the Kern family?’
‘Not quite. Was Madame Marie really your grandfather’s lover?’
‘I believe she was one of them. He brought her over from France after my grandmother died. Marie pretends to be an illegitimate daughter of an illegitimate daughter of the French royal family. Actually, she was apprenticed to a seamstress at the time.’
‘Had he known her before his wife died?’
‘I have no idea. Starting with Alexander Kern and Esmerelda Rey, the Kern men were adventurers, but they had a reputation of marrying for love, and remaining faithful to their wives.’
‘Esmerelda Rey? That’s the pirate’s daughter from Corsica, isn’t it? Mr John said that’s where the dark eyes and hair came from. He said they were all bald except for a pigtail before that.’
‘And you believed him?’ Magnus began to laugh.
‘Of course I didn’t. He teased me a lot. Is there really a secret room in the cellars at Fierce Eagles?’
He cast a long look her way. ‘Did John tell you about it?’
‘He told me there was one, but he wouldn’t tell me what’s in it, and I didn’t know whether to believe him or not, because he made up such wonderful and outrageous stories.’
‘It’s true, there is such a room. My uncle said that what it contains is best left undisturbed, and he wouldn’t allow me to see it when I was a child.’
‘How could you bear not to know what was there?’
He shrugged. ‘Oh, I’ve been down their since, and was surprised at what I found. I can see that he wouldn’t have wanted it to stimulate my childish imagination, since he had other plans for me. And in case you’re hatching a plan, I’d rather you didn’t wander around the cellars looking for the room. It’s quite dark down there. There used to be tunnels down to the cove, but my uncle had them filled in.’
She shivered. ‘What’s in the secret room, is it full of treasure?’
Her smiled at her fancy. ‘My ancestors preferred to convert their ill-gotten gains into cash. One day, when the right time presents itself, we’ll arm ourselves with lanterns and I’ll take you down there to have a look, if I can find the door key.’
‘The key is hanging on a nail next to the door.’
‘Is it, by God?’ He gave a huff of laughter.
They were in a crowd of people and heading towards the gig, which they’d left to be minded by a young lad not far from the Antelope Hotel. When the crowd thinned she noticed a man talking to the lad.
‘Did you want something?’ Magnus said when they got closer.
‘No, sir,’ the man mumbled. ‘I was admiring your horse, that’s all.’ Sarette only got a glimpse of his dirty face before the man turned away and hurried off, but something about him seemed slightly familiar.
‘Is everything all right? What did that man want?’ Magnus asked the boy.
‘He said he thought he recognized the horse, and did it belong to Dr Scotter from Midbrook House.’
‘I’ve never heard of him, or of Midbrook House.’
‘That’s what I said to him, too. I think he was going to steal the rig if I let him get near enough. The horse belongs to Mr Magnus Kern of Fierce Eagles, says I, slapping the whip against my thigh so he knew I meant business if he fancied his chances. And a right fine legal gentleman he is – very generous when the occasion demands.’ The boy grinned widely and held out his grubby hand.
‘Am I to take it the occasion demands it now?’
‘Reckon I can tell you something else if I’ve a mind to, and I’ve got a fancy to buy my ma a warm scarf for Christmas.’
‘A worthy reason.’ Magnus laughed and put an extra coin in his hand.
‘Thank you, sir. Fact is, he didn’t sound like he was from these parts, more like a northerner or a scot, but not exactly. And when I asked who was taking the liberty of asking after the gentleman’s horse, he said his name was Jack Maitland.’
Sarette gave a tiny, distressed gasp.
Magnus dismissed the lad, placed the parcels in the gig and helped her up next to them, his hands warm around her waist, his hair ruffling in the breeze. He tucked the rug over her knees. She squashed a sudden urge to kiss the tender curve of his ear, but Magnus didn’t encourage familiarity. She smiled at it instead, before he straightened up, climbed up next to her and jammed his hat on his head. ‘It’s a coincidence, that’s all.’
‘It certainly wasn’t my father’s ghost, of that I’m sure. It was odd, though. It gave me a bit of a start. His face seemed slightly familiar, as if I’d seen him before.’
Putting the horse in motion they headed out of town on the Bridport Road. ‘You can have a go at driving the gig when the traffic has thinned out if you like. Then you can get out and about by yourself, as long as you have someone with you. Ada perhaps.’
It wasn’t too hard to keep control of the horse. It was a black gelding, not as big as Hercules had been, but it had a much glossier coat. She wondered where Hercules was now, and whether he missed John as much as she still did. She began to softly sing:
There was a black gelding from kucamandoo who uncovered a nugget of gold with his shoe. A pretty white mare from kucamandee, wore a red garter tied over her knee, and a handsome young mule from kucamandonga woke up the dawn with a sweet braying songa, while the silly old Jenny from kucamandaisy honked like a goose and sent everyone crazy.
When Magnus l
aughed she was brought back to the present, and she grinned.
‘I made it up for Hercules, but it was such a long time ago that I can’t quite remember the words. It’s a silly song, but he liked it, and I was thinking of him.’
‘You’re a young lady, you should think of what the future holds, not what’s gone past.’ He pulled on the reins and brought the carriage to a halt. Taking her face between his hands he unexpectedly kissed her on the mouth.
It seemed as though the world came to a standstill around her. His lips were as silky as warm satin, as sweet as honey and as hot as fire. She felt herself melt, felt the womanly parts of her body eagerly absorb the message they were being sent. How could she bring herself to be shocked by his action when she’d enjoyed it so much?
She smiled when he withdrew, opened her eyes and found herself gazing into the dark depths of his.
He seemed more surprised by his action than she was. ‘Don’t look at me with eyes as round as dinner plates. I suppose I should apologize.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re a young, impressionable girl.’
She decided to keep it light. ‘And you don’t want to impress me in case I swoon in your arms and declare my everlasting love for you?’
‘No . . . yes.’ He sounded alarmed, then he laughed. ‘You wouldn’t do that, would you? You’re much too sensible. I’m sorry I kissed you. You looked so sweet, and so innocent and I gave in to a whim. It won’t happen again.’
‘Oh, Magnus, of course I wouldn’t swoon over you. It was only a kiss, after all, and not a very good one at that,’ she lied. ‘Also, I should point out that I’ve been kissed before.’
‘Gerald, I suppose. Is that who I’m being compared to?’
She wanted to giggle at his annoyed expression. ‘Is that so bad, when he’s a friend of yours? Surely you trust him with me. I do so enjoy his company.’
‘Like hell I trust him, I know him too well. I’ve already informed him that I’m responsible for your welfare. Now I’m reminding you.’
‘So why make it sound like you’re warning me?’
He was still gazing into her eyes, and he said softly, ‘You have the damnedest long eyelashes.’
She wasn’t in love with Gerald, and she didn’t want to fall in love with Magnus Kern, it would make life too complicated. She sighed. ‘Now who’s flirting? You might be responsible for me, but who takes responsibility for your behaviour, Magnus?’
He thought about it for a moment. ‘You’re right, of course. I shall try and be more fatherly towards you, like my uncle was.’
His voice was almost mocking and she gazed at him, puzzled. ‘Mr John wasn’t all that fatherly. He was more like a friend and mentor to me.’
‘Yes, I know. Do you think you can get through the gateposts of Fierce Eagles without knocking a wheel off?’
‘If you’d just stick your insufferable head out a little it will be my pleasure to knock that off with it.’ She flicked the reins, picking up speed and watched his knuckles tighten. A few moments later they were bowling through the gates with plenty of room to spare.
‘Nicely judged.’
Now she’d rattled him a bit she felt better. ‘You don’t have to sound so surprised. I’m not the imbecile you seem to think I am.’ She grinned at him. ‘By the way, your kiss was better than Gerald’s. You kissed me as though you wanted too, not because you thought you ought to. I enjoyed it, so don’t insult me again by saying you are sorry you did it, and making me feel that it was my fault. I shall now go off and swoon in private, so I don’t embarrass you further.’
She walked off without another word, leaving him staring after her.
Flynn Collins was pleased with himself. He now knew Magnus Kern by sight, and where he lived. He grinned to himself. He could have killed that man there and then, ’cepting he only had his knife with him, and that could be messy. His gun was in the sack he carried. Better a bullet fired from behind. It was much quicker.
He went to the marketplace and stood with those looking to be hired.
‘Name?’ A beefy farmer asked, walking round him and pinching the muscles in his arm.
He remembered he’d used the Maitland name with the lad holding Kern’s horse. He’d been caught off guard, and couldn’t risk using it again. ‘Doyle . . . Jimmy Doyle.’
‘There’s eight weeks drainage work, ploughing in stubble, stable work and muck-spreading to be done, as well as seeing to the stock. Eight shillings a week, and all found. You can sleep snug in the stable loft, and if you prove satisfactory I’ll keep you on through the spring planting.’
The man wanted a lot for his eight miserable shillings. ‘The wage isn’t much.’
‘Beggars can’t be choosers, and it’s all found. Take it or leave it, Doyle.’
Flynn remembered to tug at his forelock. It would do, though there was easier ways of earning money than toiling in the fields, and he already had a good bankroll to take to America with him. He’d found good pickings on market day amongst the jostling crowds. ‘Thank you, sir.’
‘You can come with me on the cart then. I have to drop by the mill to pick up a sack of flour for my wife.’ He patted his stout stomach and smiled, trying to make up for his meanness with money by being jocular. ‘I hope you’ve got an appetite on you, because Mrs Perkins serves a good-sized dinner. You won’t go hungry while you’re with me.’
Flynn smiled. ‘That’s nice to know, sir. I haven’t eaten all day.’ He didn’t draw attention to his purpose by asking the whereabouts of Fierce Eagles. Which was just as well, because they passed the gates on the way to the farm, which proved to be in an isolated position.
Perfect, he thought. Nobody would look for him here.
He thought about the five hundred pounds bounty on his head. A pity he couldn’t turn himself in and claim it. It would set him up for life. There was a niggle of resentment in him too. If it hadn’t been for that little bit of business to take care of he would have been in America by now. Still, at least his cousin in Poole didn’t know about the price on his head. The man didn’t have much, but hadn’t done a dishonest act in his life, and although he didn’t approve of Flynn he’d agreed to help him, just to get rid of him.
Well, Magnus Kern, he thought. When I get rid of you there will be nobody to pay the bounty out of your estate, and I’ll be long gone. He gazed at the broad back of the farmer, and smiled. The man would hand him over like a shot if he knew about the reward.
Luckily, nobody around here had seen his face, or could connect him to Flynn Collins, wanted murderer – and he had one contact he could still trust, though he intended to tell him nothing.
Fourteen
Up to her neck in water, Sarette sighed as she gazed around the bathroom. It was pretty, with a flowered bathtub, matching pedestal, tank and sink.
It was more convenient than having to use the bathroom in the hall, which catered for the rest of the rooms on this floor, with the exception of the one Magnus called his own. The bathroom she luxuriated in had been installed for the use of Mr John’s wife and daughter. They’d bathed in the very tub in which she now soaked.
‘I wish you’d both lived for him, but you didn’t and now I hope you’re all together and enjoying the reunion. He missed you both so much,’ she whispered.
Coals glowed in a little black fireplace set into the wall, and around that was a fireguard with towels hanging over it to warm. Steam glazed the walls. Feeling drowsy, she closed her eyes and thought about Mr John. She tried to imagine him as the master here, living a happy life with his wife and child and not expecting it to end, then . . . tragedy! Her mind moved on to the goldfields, of the privation they’d suffered. Had he blamed himself for this loss, and chosen to deprive himself of luxury as punishment?
Ada bustled in just as she was about to fall asleep. ‘Mr Kern said I’m to accompany you to the hotel, and look after you. Fancy that . . . me in a posh hotel being a proper maid. Verna’s upset. She said the master should�
��ve asked her because she’s the senior maidservant. But you wanted the housekeeper’s job, I says to her. Be content, you can’t have everything. Here, bend forward, let me get that hair washed, Miss. You’re going to be the prettiest girl there by the time I’ve finished with you, you wait and see.’
‘You know, Ada, I still feel guilty when I soak in this big bath of water. Where I lived in Australia we used to bathe in a small tin tub, then use the water many times over. I could only wedge myself in it with my knees pulled under my chin.’
‘Well, I never. Don’t you worry, this water won’t be wasted. With your permission, as soon as I’ve got you out and wrapped up warm, I’m going to hop in it and have a quick bath and wash my hair too. You can be drying your hair in front of the fire in the meantime. I don’t want to go to some posh hotel looking scruffy, and having the master’s valet looking down his long, superior nose at me, and it won’t take me long.’
Sarette liked it when Ada was acting as her maid instead of working in the laundry. She learned a lot about what was going on in the household, and at least she had someone to talk to.
‘That valet of his likes everything neat and tidy. Thinks he’s something special, George does. He dashes around, and issues orders to everyone as though he owns the place. Branston gets fed up with him because George tittle-tats to the master.’
Exactly as Ada was doing to her, though Sarette didn’t want to be unkind and point it out to her.
‘All the same, George is good at his job. You never see Mr Kern go out with dirty shoes, or unshaved. Those curls of his are difficult to keep tidy, George said. They’ve got to be exactly the right length. Mr Kern always looks really handsome, though.’
Sarette smiled under the foamy curtain of her hair and brought an image of Magnus to her mind. ‘He certainly does.’ She liked his curly hair and the way it ruffled in the breeze. Sometimes she felt like winding a curl round her finger or running her hands through—’