Marianne & the Marquis

by Anne Herries

‘These are very valuable, Aunt Bertha. I do not think you should give them to me—they must be precious to you.’

  ‘My husband gave them to me when we were married,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. ‘But I have no use for them now—that style is for a young lady, not one of my age. And who else should I give them to if not you? You know my situation, Marianne.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Marianne said, her cheeks pink. ‘I am delighted to have them, of course, and I do thank you—but I did not wish for such a gift. You have already made me a generous allowance. Besides, I came to visit only because I have always been fond of you, Aunt. I did not expect to be given things like this…’

  ‘Do you think I do not know that?’ Lady Edgeworthy’s eyes were moist, warm with affection. ‘The difference between you and that rogue…for that is what Major Barr tells me he is…’ She shook her head. ‘I do not know why I was ever fooled by him, but it is over. When he took his leave this morning, I told him that he must ask before he comes to stay again. I do not think he was best pleased, but I have decided that I shall break the habit. I do not wish him to come here again.’

  ‘No, I should imagine that he was not pleased by the news,’ Marianne said. ‘I think you are well rid of him, Aunt—and I shall sleep more easily knowing that he has gone.’

  ‘Yes, well, the thing is done and finished,’ Lady Edgeworthy told her. ‘I had no wish to lease my home or the estate to him, though I believe I shall need to seek some advice in how to bring things round here. However, I have good friends who may help me there—but I have decided that I shall write to your mama, Marianne. It is my wish that we shall all meet in Bath for a little visit together, and then…well, we shall see how we go on.’ She looked at Marianne expectantly. ‘It cannot be until after Jane’s wedding, of course—but afterwards, would that please you?’

  ‘Yes, of course it must,’ Marianne told her. ‘Lucy would love it of all things, and Mama, I am sure. Jo is promised to Aunt Wainwright, as I have told you, but we should see her there for it will be at just the same time, I believe. They were to have gone before this but for Uncle Wainwright’s accident.’

  ‘Yes, well, that was what decided me on it,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. ‘We shall all be together, and as I said, we must see what happens. I have it in mind to ask if your mama would like to make her home with me—but she may be settled where she is.’

  ‘Oh…’ Marianne looked at her in surprise. Before that afternoon, it would have opened so many possibilities, but now it could make little difference to her own happiness. ‘I cannot speak for Mama, but I think she might like to live with you here, Aunt. She would enjoy a visit to Bath, I am sure—but she is used to a large country house, and I think she must find the Lodge cramped. Besides…’ She shook her head. It was not for her to speak of her mother’s discomfort at living on her sister’s charity.

  ‘As I said, it depends on many things,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. ‘But do you agree that I should write concerning the visit to Bath?’

  ‘With all my heart,’ Marianne said, ‘for I shall have her birthday present ready by then and I may give it to her when we meet.’

  She kissed her aunt’s cheek and left her, walking along the hall to her own room. She was thoughtful, because she knew that once the smuggling was over Drew would leave the area; there was nothing to keep him here and he would naturally return to his home. She would go to Bath with her family and…

  She shook her head. She must not dwell on the future. Tonight, she had more important work—she was determined to find the secret entrance in the cellars and have it blocked in before she told Drew of her discovery. However, she could not still the ache in her heart or her tortured thoughts, for she had allowed herself to dream of a future that included Drew. Lifting her head, she refused to let the tears fall. She had brought this disappointment on herself by allowing him to kiss her the way he had, and she had only herself to blame if he had taken unfair advantage of her feelings.

  Chapter Eight

  The house had been quiet for some time now. Marianne had not undressed, for it might be cold in the cellars. She picked up her chamber-stick, slipping the tinder-box into the pocket of her skirt in case she needed it. She opened her bedroom door very quietly and glanced out, listening for a moment before closing it softly behind her.

  She was sure that the servants had retired to bed, for they went soon after their mistress. Their days were long, and, in some cases, arduous, for it was a big house and Lady Edgeworthy ought perhaps to have employed more servants than she presently had, though many of the rooms were not in use.

  Going carefully down the stairs, Marianne turned towards the wing of the house where the kitchens were situated. She had visited them several times since she’d come to live here, because she had been used to an easygoing relationship with the servants at her own home, and had continued it here. Her smile and her polite manner, her warmth and her kindness towards her aunt had been noticed and won her many friends below stairs. Marianne would have been surprised had she been able to hear Mr and Mrs Jensen speak of her in the privacy of their own sitting room. It was the opinion of Mr Jensen that Miss Marianne Horne was fitted for higher things, and, he had told his wife, he wouldn’t be surprised if she made a good match one day.

  The kitchen had been left clean and tidy, and ready for the morning. Marianne made her way through it to the scullery and what she knew was the door to the wine cellar. The key was always kept on a hook close by the door. She knew, for she had seen Mr Jensen take it when he fetched up some wine Lady Edgeworthy had asked for. He had brought it to Marianne to be certain it was the right one, and he had told her that the cellar was always kept locked.

  ‘I leave the key by the door just in case it is needed when I am out,’ he told her. ‘But I can tell you that anyone who used it without permission would be severely taken to task, miss.’

  Marianne told him that she believed all the servants were to be trusted and he had smiled, well pleased with her answer.

  She found the key where she had expected it to be and opened the door, locking it after her, and slipping the key into her pocket with her tinder-box. Taking a deep breath to ready herself, she held her candle in one hand, lighting the steep steps leading down to the cellar and placed her hand on the wooden rail, which hugged the wall on one side.

  She walked carefully down them, lifting her gown so as not to fall over it and take a tumble, which might result in serious injury. It was chilly as she reached the bottom of the deep steps and she was pleased that she had not changed into a nightgown. Holding her candle aloft, she looked around her; seeing a tall candlestick on a table nearby, she lit it from her own, taking the larger stick with her and, after blowing out the flame, left her chamberstick in its place. She might need that later if there was much to explore and did not wish to waste it.

  The tall stick gave her more light and she was able to see that there were three rows of wine racks. Most of them were stocked from top to bottom with bottles that had gathered dust, but there was a fourth right at the back of the cellar facing inwards, which was half-empty and looked as if it was the one in use. The cellar appeared to be smaller than she would have imagined and at first glance there seemed to be no possibility of a secret entrance—unless, of course, it was concealed behind the rack at the far end of the cellar? That seemed the most likely place to start. She was about to move towards it when she heard something—a sharp dragging sound similar to something she had heard once before.

  Acting instinctively, she blew out her candle and drew back into the shadow of one of the tall wine racks. At first she could see nothing because it was very dark, but again she heard the dragging noise, followed by a heavy creaking, and her ears told her that it came from the far end of the cellar. She had been right to suspect that it must be the only possible way in.

  The heavy wooden rack must have swung back somehow and, in doing so, one of the bottles fell out and smashed on the stone floor. Marianne heard a smothered oath, and reco
gnised the voice instantly.

  ‘Damn it! I hope that proud bitch didn’t hear it and wake. If she comes down, it could ruin everything.’ Mr Hambleton was carrying a candle and its light shed a yellow halo around where the two men stood, giving her a clear view of them.

  ‘You said you would deal with her,’ another voice accused. ‘You should have lured her to the cliffs and thrown her over. The goods will be safe enough hidden in the cavity behind the wine rack—but he needs a place to stay. He won’t think much of being hidden in this hole!’

  ‘Things have changed since last time. It will have to do until I can get him away. Besides, the alternative is a day spent in the caves. It would be too dangerous for him to travel immediately, in case they are keeping watch. He must come here and wait until it is dark. I can make sure that he has food and at least there is plenty of wine here.’

  The other man laughed. ‘That will please him, I dare say—but supposing they come in and find him?’

  ‘Raoul has more sense,’ Joshua said. ‘Besides, I have a key in my pocket. If I leave it in the lock they would not be able to open the door from the other side without some trouble—enough time for him to hide himself anyway. He must take it or find himself somewhere else, I can do no more.’ He scowled, clearly put out at the other’s grumbling.

  ‘He will not take kindly to such talk,’ the other man said. ‘You have taken his gold, as we all have, and he expects our loyalty. Do what you have to do and let us be gone. The less noise we make this night the better. If anyone were to raise the alarm now, it would ruin all our work.’

  ‘Thank God it will soon be over,’ Joshua said. ‘It’s our damned luck that the tides are against us tomorrow. They must come in on the high tide, for they cannot risk foundering on the rocks—and the tide will be right at six in the morning.’

  ‘Light enough to be seen if there are any slip-ups,’ the second man said. ‘It’s a damned risk, that’s what I say, but it was his orders. Come on, let’s get out of here.’

  ‘I must place the key in the lock,’ Joshua said and walked towards the steps. Marianne shrank further into the shadows, holding her breath as he passed her. If he discovered that she was there and had heard them talking…But he was returning and she could hear the two conspirators muttering together as they pulled the heavy wine rack closed behind them. ‘Damn this thing—it wants greasing…’

  The light had gone now and Marianne sighed with relief as she heard a clicking sound. The rack was back in place and no one would know that anyone had been here—apart from the smashed bottle, which could have been the work of careless servants.

  She waited for a few minutes to be sure they had gone, and then reached into her pocket, lighting her candle from the tinder-box. Her heart was beating very fast and she felt a little sick as she walked back to the small table, lit the candle in her chamberstick and set the tall stick down, blowing out the flame.

  She walked up the steep stone steps and unlocked the door, taking the key with her as she went into the scullery. Once there, she re-locked the door and pocketed the key. She now had both the keys to the cellar, which, she hoped, meant that no one could enter the house that way—and no one could walk in on their uninvited visitor by mistake and perhaps be killed.

  Now what ought she to do? Marianne was thoughtful as she went upstairs, her mind going over what her next move should be. It was dark outside and she did not feel safe in walking to the cliff house, nor did she wish to wake the servants at this hour. Her anger with Drew had abated, and she knew it was her duty to inform him of what was happening. Her own hurt pride meant nothing when there was a French spy at liberty to come and go as he pleased.

  The only solution she could think of was to go out at first light. She could call at the house on the cliffs and tell Robbie or Drew of what she had learned and then…after that it would be Drew’s affair, not hers. She would hide the keys to the cellar in her room. Tomorrow, on her return, she would tell her aunt of her discovery and they could make sure that the workmen came in to close off the secret entrance in such a way that it could never again be opened from outside the house.

  Going into her room, Marianne lay down fully clothed. She would rest, but she must not let herself fall asleep, because otherwise she would be too late to warn Drew.

  She wished now that she had sent him a message earlier that day, but even though she might have told him that Joshua had left the house, she could not have told him all that she knew now.

  It was damned cold crouching down amongst the rocks, waiting for the signal from the ship out in the bay. Drew was grateful for the warm coat that had seen him through his military days, blowing on his hands to warm them. He thought longingly of his bed at Marlbeck, and of a soft body lying beside him, a little smile curving his mouth as for a moment he indulged his dreams. He had them more often of late, and they were becoming more erotic, for she aroused his senses as no other woman ever had.

  Damn them! If the ship that had been seen a few hours earlier further along the coast was the one he had been waiting for, they were taking their time getting a boat out. He was just wondering if he had been mistaken in her lines and it was a British vessel after all when the light flashed. He trained his spyglass in the direction it had come from, and found the ship as it sailed in closer, flashing the light twice more. It was answered almost instantly, and then he saw a boat set out from the ship. Something or someone was being brought in and he hoped it might be the man he was after. He did not care if the smugglers made a run for it or if their cargo was not taken, it was the Frenchie he was after—and Hambleton!

  Something made him turn his head back towards the cliff tops and the house where he had been staying. It was just beginning to get light, and he could make out the figure of someone approaching the house…a woman wearing a dress of some pale colour with a dark cloak thrown over. The wind had blown her cloak back away from her body, pulling the soft material of her gown tight across her slender form, and it was the flash of a pale colour that had caught his eye.

  He knew instinctively that it must be Marianne. What was she doing here at this hour? Surely she was not foolish enough to venture this way at such a time? She must know that it could be dangerous.

  Drew cursed softly. He dared not move, because everything hung on surprise. If the smugglers took fright too soon, neither the contraband nor the French spy would be landed and all their work would be for nothing. Marianne’s arrival at this moment was a deuced nuisance! It could ruin everything, but perhaps she would simply give up and go home when she realised that the house was empty…

  He turned his gaze back towards the ship. He could do nothing to warn Marianne for the moment, because he needed to wait for the boat to land on the narrow strip of sand that was all that was visible at high tide.

  Marianne had put her cloak on that morning, because it was cold, but the wind whipped it back from her body as she paused at the top of the cliffs, pinning her dress against her. She was on her way to the house, but she had seen a ship in the bay and a boat putting out from it. She hesitated for a moment, but there was nothing she could do. She must warn Drew at once!

  She ran the rest of the way to the house and banged on the door. There were no lights inside, and no one came to answer her summons. She knew it was early and renewed her knocking, banging as loud as she could, but still nothing stirred within the house. Where had Drew gone? She felt a surge of frustration and turned away. Her eyes strayed out to the bay once more and she saw that a rowing boat was nearing the shore.

  What could she do? She was a woman alone and she had no weapon. Even if she could climb down to the cove there was no way that she could prevent what was happening. A man had got out of the boat and was wading ashore, others were unloading some barrels and another boat was already on its way inshore.

  ‘What are you doing here, mademoiselle?’

  Marianne started and looked round. The man had come upon her as she watched the activity on the shore below. W
here had he come from—and how had he seen her?

  ‘Who are you?’ she demanded, the words springing from her lips without thought. ‘Did you come in on the ship?’ Her eyes narrowed, for suddenly she realised that this had all been cleverly staged. He had spoken in English, but from his accent he was French. The smugglers were landing their cargo below, but this man—the man that Drew had been waiting for—had been landed at some other place along the coast and made his way here overland. ‘Who have you come to meet—is it Lieutenant Humble?’

  ‘What do you know of him?’ The Frenchman’s gaze narrowed suddenly in suspicion. When he first saw her, Raoul had thought her merely an innocent passer-by who had stumbled on what was happening in the bay by accident, but now he realised that she knew more than she should—and as such she was a danger to him. ‘Did he send you here? Have you come in his place?’

  Marianne shook her head—she realised too late that her careless words had led her into danger. She started to back away from him, but even as she did so, she heard a shout below her and saw men beginning to pour over the rocks that separated the village beach from the cove. Instantly, she knew that they were Revenue officers and she shouted, trying to attract their attention.

  ‘Up here! The man you want is up here…’

  The Frenchman swore and made a lunge at her. Marianne screamed and started to run back, away from the cliffs and the frantic scene below. She could hear gunfire and knew that a fight was going on, but she had no weapon or anyone to help her. She had seen this man’s face and she understood that she was a danger to him. He would kill her if he could. Her only hope was to run as fast as she could…but he was gaining on her. Fright spurred her on, making her run faster. And then she caught her foot on an uneven patch of ground, stubbing her toe against a hidden piece of rock and twisting her ankle as she fell. She felt the sting of grazed flesh, but ignored it. She was up on her feet almost at once, but she could not run. Her ankle was too painful and she turned to face her attacker, her face proud.