by Carol Arens
In an instant she was off the bed and grabbing her cloak from the wardrobe. Whatever stupid mess she had made of knowing Justin Delacourt, she would move worlds to keep him from harm. Silently she stole downstairs in her stockinged feet. Mrs Croft would be long asleep, but she was wary of meeting Hester. The maid might still be up and about, clearing dishes or setting the table for breakfast. Lizzie craned her head around the kitchen door and saw with relief that she was alone. Light from a half-moon was shining through the window and, by its muted sheen, she found her boots tucked neatly behind the great black range. Then slowly and carefully she unlatched the door which led into the garden. Moonlight glistened off the winding path, guiding her onwards, past the folly to the wicket gate. The wind had fallen away and above her an enormous sky shone a dark-blue enamel. She flitted along, her black cloak seeming to meld her into the darkness. No sounds reached her, no sights disturbed her. The garden lay quiet and unmolested. But her heart began to thump louder when she passed through the gate and started down the stairs. The beach lay still and empty in the moonlight. The whole world was still, it seemed, the mirror surface of the river blurred only by lowering mists. Not a movement. She looked upwards along the path that led to the clifftop, the path she had taken only last night in pursuit of the smugglers. But again there was no one. If the gang had ever been here, they had dissolved into thin air; wherever they planned to attack Justin, it was not on this beach.
She turned to go, feeling a leaden disappointment. She had been so sure that she would find them here, but she’d been mistaken. And what a mistake! Even now in some unknown place Justin could be suffering pain, torture. The thought was anguish, but she could do nothing. All that was left was to return to the house and pray.
She had reached the second step of the wooden staircase when a slight sound caught her ear and she stopped to listen. In a second a whirlwind had descended. A large hand covered her mouth and another thrust an ill-smelling gag between her lips. With her arms pulled painfully behind her back, she was pushed roughly down the stairs and on to the strand.
‘What ’ave we ’ere, then?’ A man emerged from the shadows and it was Chapman. The bleached hair and colourless eyes were almost invisible in the moonlight, but she could read his expression clearly.
His smile jeered at her. ‘Were yer lookin’ for someone? I wouldn’t want to disappoint yer, not when yer such a pretty little miss.’
This man was truly evil and she had fallen into his hands. He came closer and thrust her chin upwards. She felt his sour breath hot on her cheeks and told herself that at all costs, she must not faint.
A circle of men surrounded her, dark-looking cut-throats, salacious smirks on their faces. ‘What d’yer want us to do with ’er?’ one of them dared to ask.
Chapman spat. ‘All in good time. I might just have a little bit o’ fun first.’
The man who had spoken jerked his head towards the clifftop and Lizzie could see the faint outline of a woman. Rosanna! So Justin was not with her and she had been mistaken again. Whatever had made her think she was cut out for adventure? If she escaped this nightmare, her life must change. Her longing for adventure had done nothing but lead her into danger and upset those she loved. It was time to stop—if only she had not left it too late.
Chapman shrugged his shoulders and walked away. ‘Tie ’er up proper. Get rid of ’er.’
The words were barely out of his mouth when two of his comrades lunged forwards and grabbed her. A rope was tied around her wrists so tightly that she felt her skin break and bleed beneath its force, and then she was forced to the ground. Don’t give up, she told herself, don’t give up. Struggling fiercely, she kicked out at them, managing to land the occasional blow, until a third member of the gang arrived at their calling and sat down heavily on her legs.
‘Yer shouldn’t do that, missy. We can git narsty,’ he said, pantingly.
Another length of rope was round her ankles and then two of them were lifting her horizontally in the air.
A fourth man who had stood looking on, silent and motionless, let out a hoarse guffaw. ‘Nicely trussed, lads. We’m getting’ good, ain’t we?’
‘’Old the lantern, Nat. ’tis black as pitch.’
For the moment the moon had disappeared into a basket of cloud and in near obscurity she was carried across the shingle towards a dark wound in the cliff. The light from the lantern swung back and forth in an erratic arc, but when they drew nearer she could see that it was the opening to a cave. They were going to leave her in a cave. She felt a draining relief. They were not going to murder her, after all—or worse. But why leave her here? The answer was swift and stomach-turning.
‘Take her gag orf, Jack. She can yell all she wants, but no one will ’ear ’er.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yeah, that way she’ll drown quicker. We’m compassionate, ain’t we?’ Again that rough guffaw.
She lay rigid as they carried her deeper into the cave. A terror had overtaken her and she was numb with despair. This was the end, after all. She would die alone in this wretched place and no one would ever find her. Mrs Croft would think she had left without notice, her father when he arrived would decide she had gone off on one of her mad adventures and wash his hands of her for good. And Justin, what would he think? Certainly not that she had tried to save him from a fate he did not even face. More likely he would imagine that she had left Rye as swiftly as she’d arrived and then dismiss her from his mind.
She was dumped unceremoniously on the shingle floor of the cave amid a huddle of large rocks. The sound of retreating footsteps and then she was alone. Gradually her eyes adjusted to the dark and in the distance she made out a shard of light. The moon must have broken free of its prison of cloud and she was looking back at the cave’s entrance. She wondered if it were possible to roll herself towards it, but rocks and stones littered the path and what if she succeeded—the tide was already rising, and instead of dying here, she would simply die on the beach. She shuffled her body around, trying to get more comfortable. What a ridiculous notion! How comfortable could you get with hands and feet tightly bound, waiting for certain death? In her squirmings, the slightest trickle of light caught her ruby ring. She fell to wondering why the smugglers had not stolen it, when a voice came out of the dark and punched the breath from her.
‘Lizzie? Is that you? Is that really you?’
‘Justin?’
‘I saw the glint of your ring—but what are you doing here?’
In the circumstances it seemed the strangest of questions, yet the entire day had felt surreal, unfolding in fits and starts like the worst possible nightmare.
‘I came to look for you,’ she stammered.
‘But why? I thought...’ He did not finish, but she knew he was remembering their dreadful quarrel. Didn’t he realise it made not a scrap of difference? When you loved truly, you had no choice but to love for ever.
Aloud she said, ‘I was sure you were in danger.’
He seemed to be pondering her words and for a while they sat in silence, the only sound the slow wash of river water. ‘Have they bound you?’
‘They have—my hands and feet.’
She felt an uneven movement to her right and the warmth of his body coming closer.
‘What happened to you?’ she asked, though she didn’t really need to. She knew exactly what had happened for, hadn’t she foretold it in her darkest imaginings?
‘Chapman used Rosanna to get me here,’ he said bitterly. ‘She betrayed me—she never intended to tell me a thing.’
Lizzie said nothing. It was cold comfort to have been proved right.
‘We must get out of here,’ he continued. ‘The tide has turned and it will not be long before the river reaches us.’
‘But how? These bonds are so tight, it’s impossible to get free.’
‘It has to be possible,’ he said with a fierce determination.
She sensed him striving to stand upright on the uneven floor, but the rope binding his ankles caused him to lose balance and crumple painfully downwards on to the pebbled floor. In the distance she heard the sound of water growing nearer, its thunder filling the rocky bay and echoing eerily around the hollow space of the cavern. She fought down panic. The water was still some way off, she told herself, and closer to hand she heard Justin moving again, then a few suppressed curses and somehow he had managed to wriggle himself into a sitting position beside her. There was something immensely comforting at having him by her side. They would at least die together.
‘We’re not going to die.’ He had read her thoughts with uncanny accuracy. ‘I’m going to rub my wrists against the rock behind me and try to fray the rope. The surface feels sharp enough. It will take time, but it’s the only thing I can think to do.’
‘But you will damage yourself badly.’
‘I’ll be a lot more damaged if I don’t get free,’ he said, with an attempt at humour.
A moment later she heard the slightest sound of chafing rope. She could not bear to think of the rock cutting into his wrists and hands, as surely it must. She felt his body tense beside her and she knew that he was in pain.
‘What made you come to the cove of all places?’ he jerked out, trying, she thought, to distract himself. ‘You should be safe in your bed.’
‘I wanted to warn you. I was sure that the meeting was a trap and that you were in danger. The cove seemed the most likely place for the smugglers to lure you.’
There was another moment’s silence. ‘You should not have come, Lizzie.’ Then, when she said nothing, he went on, ‘But how? How did you know I was in danger?’ He stumbled on the words as the rock cut deep into his skin.
‘I didn’t trust Rosanna. I never have. She could easily have told you what you wanted to know in the churchyard. Instead she arranged to meet you at this late hour.’
‘She is still with Chapman,’ he said bitingly. ‘You were right and I was wrong—very badly wrong.’
‘You didn’t see them together. If you had, you would have known that she would never betray him.’
‘So even women like Rosanna have their principles?’
‘She loves him,’ Lizzie said simply.
There was a loud exclamation as Justin’s wrists once again hit rock. ‘Stop!’ she cried out. ‘I cannot bear that you hurt yourself any more.’
‘Would you rather that we drown?’
She wanted to say that, yes, she would rather, for at least in death they would be together.
‘You are not going to end like this, Lizzie,’ he said urgently. ‘You are far too precious’, and he set to rubbing again with even greater energy.
The hissing of water over shingle was growing ever louder, but it was the sound of sawing that filled her ears as the rope gradually began to fray under Justin’s pressure. The rhythmic echo sent her eyelids closing and, despite her discomfort, she had begun to doze when she felt the first trickle of water nip tentatively at her toes.
‘The river is rising fast,’ he said grimly.
‘Does it fill the cave as those men suggested?’
‘At high tide it does and we are not so far from that.’
‘Should we try to move further back?’
‘With boulders strewn everywhere, it will be difficult, if not impossible. And it would gain us only a little time. I need to stay here—I think the rope is becoming slacker.’
‘Then we will stay here together.’ She felt his thigh nudge warmly against her.
‘Did you really think that I was Rosanna’s lover?’ he asked out of the blue.
‘Yes...no,’ she said confusedly.
‘How could you think that?’
‘I didn’t—not really. But when I tried to warn you, you wouldn’t listen. You preferred to put your trust in an untrustworthy woman.’
‘If only we had not quarrelled...’ he began, and then let out a loud groan. There was a thud as a length of rope was hurled into the distance. ‘I’ve done it, Lizzie, I’ve done it!’
His legs freed, he moved quickly towards her. She felt his hands on the rope securing her feet and at the same time a splash of liquid on her bare limbs.
‘The river, it’s coming in more quickly than ever.’
‘Not too quickly, I hope. The water is still only ankle deep.’
‘But...’ Then she realised that what she was feeling was not water, but blood. Justin was bleeding profusely.
Shaking her limbs to get rid of the numbness, she reached down to her skirts and tore a strip of material from her petticoat. ‘We must bind your poor wrists or you will lose too much blood.’
She bound his wrists as tightly as she could in the near impenetrable darkness and hoped against hope that the makeshift bandages would be sufficient. If he continued to bleed—she blinked back the tears.
‘You are crying, Lizzie. Please don’t.’
And his arms were around her and he was kissing her full on the lips. It was madness. If they had any sense, they would be scrambling to their feet and running for their lives. Instead they clung to each other, locked fast in an embrace, unable to let go. The cave, the rocks, the sound of the approaching river retreated into nothingness and all she could think of was that she was in his arms again. He was kissing her over and over, deeply, tenderly, when a sudden rush of water soaked them to the skin.
‘You were right, the river is rising quickly.’ His voice assumed a deliberate calm. ‘The only way out is through the entrance to the cave, but the water is too deep now. We would have to swim and that’s dangerous—the currents are very strong.’
‘And I cannot swim.’ Her words were barely audible.
‘Then we must think again.’
‘There is nothing to think about. You must escape, Justin. You can swim out into the river—I am sure you are strong enough to manage the currents—and then you can bring help to me.’
‘By the time I could do that, you would be swimming with the fishes. There must be another way.’
But she could not see how. She did not want to die; she wanted to live, wanted once more to taste his love to the full. But if that was not to be, then he must save himself.
‘You must go!’
‘We must go,’ he corrected her. ‘We must climb to the back of the cave. There are passages linking one cave to another. When Gil and I were boys we would dare each other to travel as far along them as we could, before we reached the sea. And if there are passages running parallel to the river, there should be at least one leading inland.’
Another great rush of water had them scrambling to their feet. From behind came the sound of the river filling the space they had occupied just minutes before.
‘Come, we must move quickly!’
He clasped her hand in his and together they began a perilous climb in the dense gloom over rocks and rough stones towards the rear of the cave. The further they moved from the entrance, the darker it grew. Lizzie could not share her lover’s optimism that they would ever find their way out.
Justin’s cheer seemed to be waning, too. ‘It looks as though we will have to swim, after all.’ They had come to a full stop at the very rear of the cavern and before them stretched an enormous lake of water, left by the retreating tide.
‘I can’t,’ she protested, aghast.
He squeezed her hand tightly. ‘We’ll go together, Lizzie. It may not be as deep as we think.’
She stood on the brink of the pool, unable to take the first step. Behind them the roar of river water grew louder, tumbling itself through the narrow entrance and crashing through the barrier of rocks. ‘We must at least try,’ he said into her ear. ‘It is our only hope. Hold very tight to
me and all will be well.’
She did as he told her and walked forwards. Almost immediately she was plunged waist deep in water and had to smother a terrified cry. She had wanted adventure to knock at her door, hadn’t she? Well, here it was and knocking loudly. Frantically she clutched hold of his hand and, though the water rose breast high, she continued to walk beside him. Something knocked against her left side and she put out her hand to fend it off. It seemed like clothes, but what were clothes doing floating in this horrible, murky pool?
‘Justin...’ She curled her fingers into the palm of his hand. ‘There is something odd.’
‘Odder than us trying to wade through we know not how much water, fifty feet into the cliff?’
Her voice grew strained. ‘There is definitely something wrong—I can feel it. If only we had a light.’
‘We just might have—only to be used in emergency, but this could be it.’ And there was the sharp crack of glass being broken and a strip of paper had burst into flame. He held the flickering light aloft.
‘You see, I managed to bring a light, but not a knife—that was a bad mistake.’
‘What on earth...?’
‘It’s a new invention, though not ideal—a phosphoric candle. We had them in Spain, but they are expensive and dangerous. We must protect the flame as best we can.’ Lizzie looked up, temporarily distracted. Candlelight revealed for the first time the enormity of the cavern. A huge domed ceiling swept down to jagged walls of white chalk, discoloured at intervals by great patches of green seepage. At floor level, chalk teeth guarded an abundance of small crevices, any of which might lead somewhere or nowhere.
Candle in hand, Justin waded to the far side of her. In the thin beam of light she caught a glimpse of blue, then a flash of white. They were clothes, she thought. How extraordinary.