by Janet Woods
There was a whisper of breath against his bare shoulder as she sighed, ‘Oh, Magnus.’
The moment of sheer bliss was lost when she seemed to remember what she was about, and sprang to her feet, all flustered and womanly and aware of the feelings building in her. The look she gave him was dark and accusatory, as if it was his fault. ‘Is there anything you need?’
There was a pressing need in him, but that could wait. For now he was content to be in her presence. The darkening day pressed against the window, the wind blew its worst, the rain splashed and roared as it travelled the gutters and spouted out of the gargoyles on the corners of the roof. The fire cracked and spat tongues of fire in the grate. The dogs came in and settled on the rug in front of the fire.
Where better to be at this moment than within the walls of Fierce Eagles with the woman he loved? When love had first made itself felt he didn’t know, and he didn’t much care. It existed inside of him, dark and warm, a euphoric emotion that was everything a man in love should feel for a woman. Sarette Maitland was a gift from his uncle. She was his if she would have him, and he was hers for ever. Gerald and the stupid wager could go to hell!
His eyelids began to droop as tiredness pressed in. He fought it. He didn’t want to sleep – sleep kept him apart from her. He wanted to be awake so his eyes could consume her image. But the world insisted on getting greyer and greyer.
He forced his eyes open, to see her gazing down at him.
Her smile was that of an angel, though a slightly wicked one. ‘Rest, Magnus Kern. I insist.’
‘You’re delicious when you insist.’
His words brought a gurgle of laughter from her. ‘You’re delirious. Go to sleep at once.’ There was a whisper of her breath against his forehead. His eyelids. His mouth.
She’d kissed him, and he wanted a thousand more of her kisses, he thought. He smiled inside, and did what he was told.
The doctor had stitched the wound on Magnus’s head, then left during a break in the storm.
Magnus waited until the carriage had gone through the gates, then with the help of George, had dressed and come downstairs for dinner.
The constables and soldiers were invited to dinner, then when the storm had intensified were invited to stay the night. They would take it in turn with Gerald to keep watch during the night.
The soldiers stated their intention of going back to the farm in case Collins returned there seeking shelter.
The four of them intended to meet and resume their search in the morning.
‘Collins would have gone to ground, I imagine, but where?’ Gerald wondered out loud.
One of the constables asked Sarette, ‘Are you sure that the man was the convicted murderer, Flynn Collins? The farmer said he called himself Doyle.’
‘Of course Miss Maitland is sure,’ Magnus said. ‘He was her father’s partner. He was calling himself Jack Maitland when we saw him in Dorchester, and must have stolen her father’s papers after he died. There’s a picture of him in some newspaper cuttings in the desk drawer in the library. Fetch them for us, would you please, Branston.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Why didn’t you let the police know you’d seen Collins, Miss Maitland?’
‘At the time I wasn’t sure it was him because his face was so dirty, and the last time I’d set eyes on him he’d had a full beard. Mr Kern thought I might have been imagining it.’
Magnus sent her an apologetic smile.
‘You look pale, Magnus. Do you feel all right? You lost an awful lot of blood.’
He nodded. ‘The doctor said a head wound always bleeds profusely, and usually looks worse than it is. And what about you, angel? You’ve had an eventful day.’
There was a faint grin from Gerald at the endearment.
Branston came back with the newspaper cuttings and handed them to Magnus. It was obvious the men wanted to talk amongst themselves, so she exchanged a glance with Alice and rose. ‘I must admit that I’m tired. Would anyone mind if I retired?’
Taking that as a cue, Alice rose. ‘Me too.’
‘Mr Branston, please thank the staff for being so heroic today,’ Sarette said.
The butler smiled broadly. ‘You’re welcome, Miss, and I’ll tell them. If I may say so, your own example was inspiring.’
Gerald rose too, tall and graceful. ‘I’ll make sure you reach your room safely, ladies.’
Magnus’s eyes came alert. ‘Surely you don’t think that Collins has gained entrance to the house. The dogs would kick up a racket if they saw a stranger wandering around. ‘The cur wouldn’t be so foolhardy as to take us all on.’
‘No I don’t, Mags. I’m just being cautious. My guess is that Collins is on the run, and he might be desperate enough to try anything if the opportunity presents itself. If he can make the quay at Poole he can find himself a ship.
The policemen smiled at each other. ‘Customs are keeping a look out for them.’
‘Has the cellar door been locked and bolted, Branston?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good, but we’ll search the cellars in the morning as a precaution.’
There came a banging at the door. Gerald turned the light down and gazed out through a chink in the curtain. ‘It’s all right, Branston. It’s one of the soldiers. You can allow him entrance.’
The soldier had stopped to inform them, ‘The farmer’s woman said that the Irishman had a cousin in Poole. She delivered a note there not long ago, arranging for a fishing boat to pick him up in the cove. She gave me the address. I’m off there now to see if the cousin can throw any light on the man’s whereabouts.’
‘We’ll do that,’ the two constables said together. ‘Can you manage with one soldier, gentlemen? We need the other at the farmhouse in case Collins goes back there.’
Gerald nodded.
When they reached their room, Gerald kissed her fingers and smiled. ‘Thank you for everything, Sarry.’ He turned to Alice and his smile grew warmer and much more intimate. ‘I have something I wish to say to you in private, Alice.’
‘Anything you wish to say can be said in the presence of Sarette.’
‘Who has declined my offer of marriage, because she so rightly realized that my affections had become engaged by another.’
Alice looked from one to the other. ‘Is this true, Sarry? You have turned down Gerald’s proposal of marriage?’
‘Would Gerald lie?’
Gerald knew he had on occasion. His eyes opened wide in a vain attempt to look innocent, then he gave a shamefaced grin and shrugged. ‘I never promised to be perfect, but I promise I’ll try and improve.’
‘Did anyone say they wanted you to try and improve? Honestly, Gerald. Haven’t you heard that leopards never change their spots?’
Gerald looked pleased with the comparison.
‘That was not a compliment, Gerald, dear. What was it you wished to say to Alice?’
‘Oh . . . that. Allow me to accompany you to your home in London next week. I would very much like to speak to your mother.’
‘I’ve never seen you so lost for words, Gerald.’
‘Lor, Sarry, can’t a man have a bit of privacy. Go away and keep your nose out.’
He pushed her inside the room, pulled the door shut, then in the darkness of the hall drew Alice into his arms. He kissed her, then said, ‘I adore every inch of you, Alice, my love. Will you marry me?’
‘How absolutely romantic. Of course she will,’ he heard Sarry say from behind the door panel.
Flynn Collins was spending an uncomfortable time huddled against a rotting wooden barrier made of planks.
The tunnels were draughty and smelled of decomposing seaweed and fish. The shingle had been built up by the high tides, and if he dug down an arm’s length the pebbles were damp, as if the tide was seeping under them like a giant mouth to suck them out from under him. The roof pressed suffocatingly down in the darkness, so he couldn’t stand up straight. The worst thing was that he couldn’t
see the high tide mark in the darkness. He was trapped until the tide subsided, unless it filled the tunnel and drowned him.
With the blanket pulled tightly around him, he ate the bread and cheese he’d taken from the farmhouse and washed it down with the water. As the chill sank into his bones he realized that his backside was damp and cold. He was filled with fear. Was he to die here, trapped like a rat in a flooded hole while the water crept relentlessly up from under him, to fill his mouth, his nose and his lungs? Was his body to be left to the mercy of the tide, stinking while the crabs feasted on his rotting flesh?
He thought he could hear the water seeping through the stones, reaching for him, then creeping back and gathering strength for a longer reach.
‘Mary, mother of God, save this poor sinner,’ he prayed. ‘Get me to America and I’ll repent my sins and never do a bad thing again.’
Frantically scooping the pebbles with his hands he tried to pile them up as a barrier in front of him. But it wasn’t going to keep the water from filling the tunnel. Lying on his back he thumped a heel against the planks of the barrier and felt it give a fraction. Another few frantic thumps and the top plank fell from its rusting nails. The second plank was easier now he had more grip. Wriggling through the gap he’d made he dropped down the other side, to find himself up to his knees in water.
It was pitch black, but he could stand up. He reached out and his fingers encountered the sides. He kept his hand against the left side and cautiously made his way forward, the water getting shallower and shallower until he found himself on a dry floor. The tunnel seem to slope upward, and under his feet was metal tracks to take the grooved wheels of a wagon.
The sea water didn’t reach this far up, but water dripped from the roof and roots stretched down to clutch at his face. The air was warm and clammy, and he imagined the weight of the cliff just above him and began to sweat. Then he remembered the props his hand had encountered, and knew that the tunnels had been properly constructed and maintained over the years. Flynn stopped to take a swig from the whisky bottle. The liquor warmed his stomach and relaxed his mind, and he began to feel better.
‘Thank you, Lord,’ he said humbly. ‘All you need to do now is calm the storm and send the boat, and I’ll be on my way in the morning with no further need to trouble you.’
And it seemed that his prayers were to be answered, for by dawn the storm had blown itself out, and although Flynn didn’t know it when he woke, a small ship was standing off the cove and a dinghy waited on shore for his use.
Magnus was up before dawn the next day. Apart from a sore head he’d suffered no ill effects from the events of the day before. He stroked his prickly chin. He needed a shave. But then, so did Gerald. His friend was curled up on the couch, his head on a cushion.
He’d slept long enough. Magnus nudged him with his foot and Gerald came blearily awake. ‘Oh, it’s you.’
‘Who were you expecting at this time of morning, Miss Alice Carradine?’ He handed Gerald a cup of coffee. ‘Collins’ cousin wanted no part of the escape arrangements, so it’s been arranged by the authorities. The constables arrived back at the crack of dawn, bringing reinforcements, and there’s a customs’ cutter hidden behind the promontory. Once they sight him he won’t get far.’
Taking a gulp of the coffee Gerald let out a heartfelt sigh, then grinned. ‘The revenue men, eh? Your ancestors will turn in their graves like a bull on a spit.’
Magnus laughed. ‘So will yours. We must be a great disappointment to them. I’ve been told we’re to stay home and keep our noses out.’
‘The devil we are!’
Gerald looked so disappointed that Magnus laughed. ‘Better we don’t attract the attention of the revenue men. The constables deserve to be in for the kill, and the soldiers, too. I bet you ten guineas that the soldiers get him rather than the constables or the customs.’
‘My money’s on the constables. Don’t forget I still owe for the last wager.’
‘Our usual charity, Gerald?’
‘Where else.’
‘Just remember that I haven’t proposed to Sarry yet. She might refuse me. In fact she’ll probably box my ears for me now she knows about the wager. I might have to lock her in the cellar until she accepts that I know what’s best for her.’
Gerald grinned. ‘We were going to search the cellars this morning.’
‘And we shall, but only as a precaution. I can’t see that anyone can get in via the cave since my uncle had that boarded up at the beach end and filled with shingle. We’ll go down there now.’ He set his cup down on its saucer and stood, yawning as he stretched to his full capacity. ‘Afterwards, George can tidy us up before the women wake up. Alice will change her mind if she sees you looking like that. You know, Gerald, you’ve got a sweet-natured and sensible woman there. She’s more than you deserve.’
‘Nonsense.’ Gerald punched him lightly on the arm. ‘Sarry doesn’t know what she missed by refusing me.’
‘You knew she would. But your loss is going to be my gain.’
‘As you always meant it to be. Will you show her the cellar room?’
‘It’s part of the history of Fierce Eagles, and so will she be when she accepts me.’
Sarette rustled down the stairs in pastel green taffeta. She’d left Alice soaking in a bath of scented water. After a hearty breakfast she went to find Branston, who informed her of the latest gossip.
‘Where’s Mr Kern and Mr Grimble?’
‘They’ve gone to check the cellars.’
‘Oh, I see.’
She was about to return upstairs when her glance fell on the cellar door standing open, and she remembered the secret room Mr John had told her about. She stood and looked down a steep flight of stairs. The gas lighting extended into the cellar, and the place was brightly lit, revealing racks of bottles.
She went down and looked around. She’d never seen so many wine and spirit bottles gathered in one place. No wonder Mr John had drunk so much, she thought inconsequentially.
One of the racks had been swung open like a door. Beyond was darkness, except for a faint light flickering in the distance. There was a small scuffing noise and she shuddered. Rats?
‘Magnus,’ she called out.
The gaslight suddenly went out and she was plunged into darkness. The next moment an arm came round her neck, nearly choking her.
‘Make one fecking sound and you’re as dead as a doornail,’ a voice growled.
She froze.
‘You’re going out before me and I’ll have a gun in your back. Understand?’
‘Oh yes, Flynn Collins,’ she sneered, as loudly as possible. ‘You’re good at shooting people in the back.’
‘You think you’ve gone up one in the world, don’t you? Miss Maitland is it? People don’t bother about whores like you. First it was the old man, now the nephew. I’m glad your father didn’t live long enough to see this.’
‘My father was worth a dozen of you, and so was John Kern, you thieving, murdering snake in the grass.’
‘One more word from you and you’ll get my fist in your teeth.’ He shoved his kerchief as far into her mouth as he could get it, so she wanted to gag, then tied her hands behind her back with a piece of cord. Something cold and hard was shoved against her spine. ‘Walk.’
Sarette managed to stagger up the steep stairs. As luck had it, the hall was deserted and the dogs were still in the kitchen begging for scraps. Collins closed the door to the cellar until it clicked gently, then turned the key in the lock. ‘Help me get down to the cove and I’ll spare your life.’
She doubted it. And she knew that nobody was going to spare his life if he killed her. And even if she escaped, Magnus would follow him to the ends of the earth to take his revenge if she was so much as harmed. He had fallen in love with her – she just knew it.
She took Collins out through the French windows in the morning room, which was at the side of the house and directly under her bedroom. They kept behind the s
hrubbery and skirted the grounds as they sloped gently down towards the cove.
The landscape was battered by the storm and there were mud patches everywhere. She walked through them, leaving many footprints for the soldiers to follow, her bright gown collecting dirt and rips as they went. Her hair was snatched at by twigs, her style unravelled and the length of it falling about her body, where it became tangled more with every step.
The day was bright. Too bright to die. But the day didn’t show any mercy to its victims. It had been a bright day when the snake had killed her father.
There was no sign of anybody on the cliff. What had happened to the soldiers and the constables?
A movement caught Alice’s eye and she stared at the shaded patch on the other side of the shrubbery. She caught a glimpse of two faces as people passed a gap between plants. Sarette? Her friend’s arms were held at an awkward angle behind her back, and she was with a man.
Alice knew without asking who the man was. Pulling on the rest of her clothing she hurried downstairs, bursting into the dining room. ‘Where’s Mr Kern? The Irishman has got Miss Maitland.’
Branston paled. ‘I thought she was with you, Miss Carradine. Mr Kern and Mr Grimble are in the cellars.’
There came a sudden banging and shouting from the hall and they hurried to release the lock.
‘Miss Maitland has been taken by the Irishman, and I think he must have locked you in,’ Alice told them.
Magnus swore. ‘This is my fault. I should have checked last night.’ He gazed around at everyone. ‘We’ve just discovered that the shingle my uncle put in the tunnels has been gradually sucked out by the tide, and the barrier had been kicked in where the wood had gone rotten. We found an empty whisky bottle, obviously the one stolen from the farmer’s house. I’ll never forgive myself if anything bad has happened to Sarry.’
With Gerald on his heels, Magnus hurried through to the gun cabinet and began to load the weapons. One rifle and one pistol apiece.
‘They went along the side of the garden, using the shrubbery for cover. Be careful,’ Alice said, her alarm clearly written on her face.