by Anne Herries
‘I did not think about the danger to myself,’ Marianne said honestly. ‘I knew that it was important to Drew…Lord Marlbeck…to catch the traitor, but I think he got away. He did not keep his appointment with the French spy. He was meant to bring him here to this house and hide him in the cellars—but something went wrong and he was not there to meet him. When the Frenchman approached me he thought I might have been sent to guide him to the safe house, but when I saw the Revenue men pouring into the cove I shouted to them and…he attacked me. I do not know if he meant to silence me or to kill me, but I was frightened and I ran away. I caught my foot and fell, and because my ankle hurt I could not go on—and then Drew came and they fought. The Frenchman was taken away, but there was no sign of Joshua.’
‘I think that is the most shocking thing of all,’ Jane said. ‘To think that we harboured a man like that in this house! We might have all been murdered in our beds.’ She shuddered. ‘I shall not sleep soundly until they have caught him.’
‘Surely he will not dare to come here again? He must know that everything has gone wrong. The smugglers have been caught, and most of them are either dead or in prison.’ Marianne felt a little sick. ‘How awful that is, for I dare say that some of them were local fishermen trying to supplement their living. It was Mr Hambleton who brought in the French spy.’
‘Yes, it seems that way,’ Jane agreed. ‘I sympathise with the wives and children they have left behind, but smuggling is wrong, Marianne. Simon does not approve, though he understands why men who cannot feed their children will do desperate things.’
‘I do not think Drew would have come here for the smuggling,’ Marianne said. ‘But he wanted to catch the man who caused the deaths of his comrades—and now he has got away.’
‘That cannot be your fault,’ Jane said. ‘Whatever the reason, it cannot change what happened. The French spy was caught—and much of that was because of your bravery in shouting to warn them.’
‘Oh, no,’ Marianne said. ‘He was so angry with me for being there.’
‘I dare say he was just anxious because he was afraid for you,’ Jane said. ‘But he came to inquire after you and told us everything—so there is nothing to worry for. Everyone thinks you were very brave, if a little…’
‘Foolish?’ Marianne supplied as she hesitated.
‘Impetuous,’ Jane said and smiled. ‘I would never have had the courage to do as you did, Marianne.’
‘Oh, let us talk of something else,’ Marianne said, feeling as if she would scream if she heard one more word about those wretched smugglers. ‘Have you everything you need for your wedding? We still have time to sew some pretty trifles if you need them…a night-chemise or something of the sort?’
‘Oh, I have several pretty ones put away,’ Jane told her. ‘My life has been…quiet for some years and I have used my free time to make things I might need one day.’ Her cheeks turned pink and she looked shy. ‘I always dreamed that I might marry one day, though I did not truly believe it would happen.’
Marianne sat forward to take her hand. ‘I am so very pleased for you,’ she said. ‘But I still think that when my ankle is better we might ask my aunt for the carriage and go into Truro for a day. I am sure we could find something pretty for you there.’
‘You are so kind,’ Jane said. ‘I shall pray that you will be as happy as I am one day, for I am sure that you will marry someone very nice quite soon.’
‘Oh, no, I do not think it,’ Marianne said, smothering a sigh. ‘Perhaps one day, but not just yet.’
Drew had gone away without speaking to her, and she knew that he must be very angry with her. She had been angry with him for a time, but now she was regretting her show of temper. She was going to miss seeing him on her walks.
Chapter Nine
Marianne was sitting downstairs in the parlour two days later when Bessie came to her carrying a letter. She smiled as she handed it to her and asked if there were any little tasks she might perform for her.
‘Oh, no, thank you,’ Marianne said. ‘I have a drink, my book and my needlework here beside me. And my ankle is so much better. If I need anything I am sure I can manage for myself.’
‘The doctor said you were to rest, miss, and we are all happy to serve you.’ Bessie’s eyes shone with admiration. ‘Everyone is saying that the French spy would have got away if it were not for you, miss.’
‘I assure you that is nonsense,’ Marianne said. ‘He attacked me and I ran from him. If Lord Marlbeck had not been there, he might have killed me.’
‘But you shouted and warned them, miss. I think that was very brave of you—and so does everyone here.’
Marianne shook her head and Bessie went away, leaving her to her letter. What she read there distressed her. The letter had come from her mother. It said that they had moved into the Lodge, which was very small and uncomfortable, and that the roof had leaked on to Lucy’s bed without anyone knowing it and she had lain in it all night and for a few days she had been ill.
I cannot ask you to come home, for I know that your aunt needs you, Mrs Horne had written. But it is very difficult. Jo is increasingly resentful of her Aunt Wainwright and says she shall not leave me, and Lucy is tearful. She cried for you when she was in her fever. Thankfully, she is on the mend and I believe she may soon recover, for she is young and strong. However, I am wondering if Aunt Bertha would allow her to come for a visit with you to lift her spirits. Forgive me for worrying you, my dearest, but it has been such an upsetting time. Your loving mother.
Marianne stared at the letter for a moment. Her mother must have written this before she received Lady Edgeworthy’s invitation to come and stay. She frowned over it, not certain whether to reply immediately or wait and see what happened.
‘Ah, there you are, dearest.’ Lady Edgeworthy came into the room at that moment. ‘Bessie told me that you had a letter—is it from your mama?’
‘Yes…please read it for yourself,’ Marianne said and handed it to her. ‘Poor Mama is so upset. I think it must have been a great wrench for her leaving the home to which she was taken as a bride, and Lucy seems to have taken it hard.’
‘Yes, indeed.’ Lady Edgeworthy read the letter and frowned. ‘Poor little Lucy. Surely someone should have realised that the bed was damp?’
‘Mama has only the one maid and Lily cannot be everywhere. What with the move and all the upheaval that must have caused, I dare say she did not realise.’
‘I did not realise that Cynthia’s circumstances were so difficult. Why did she not tell me? Why didn’t you tell me, Marianne?’
‘Mama would never ask for anything,’ Marianne told her. ‘She should have told Uncle Wainwright that the Lodge would not be suitable, but of course she was grateful for a home.’
‘Then it is just as well that I have invited her to make her home with me in future, is it not?’
‘You will not tell her that you know? Mama would hate to accept charity.’ Marianne looked at her doubtfully.
‘Charity? What nonsense!’ Lady Edgeworthy said robustly. ‘I have been lonely and miserable. Having you here has made me realise what is missing from my life, Marianne. Cynthia is my family, and her children are also my family. You will all be doing me the greatest favour by living here and keeping me company for my declining years.’
‘Oh, Aunt,’ Marianne said, the shine of tears in her eyes. ‘I shall write to Mama and urge her to come to us as soon as she can manage it—and I shall send her the money for her fare, for I have more than sufficient for my own needs.’
‘I have already sent sufficient money for her journey,’ Lady Edgeworthy said, ‘for I very much wish to have your mother and sisters here, Marianne. Had you not arrived when you did, I think that rogue would have finished me. He would have hounded me to my grave.’
‘I wonder if they have found him?’ Marianne said and frowned. ‘I do not think he would dare to come here again, nor will he go to your house in London, for it is the first place they would loo
k.’
‘We are well rid of him,’ her great-aunt said. ‘I cannot imagine why I ever thought he was charming.’
‘I believe rogues are often charming,’ Marianne said. ‘That is why they are so dangerous.’
‘Yes, I dare say you are right.’ Lady Edgeworthy looked round as the door of the parlour opened and Bessie came in. ‘You have a letter for me?’
‘No, ma’am, a visitor—Major Barr has called to see you.’
‘Oh, that is kind,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. ‘Pray ask him to come in, Bessie.’ She looked at Marianne. ‘He has called to discuss the mine. Lord Marlbeck told me that there may be a seam of rich copper in the old mine and I asked Major Barr if he would look into it for me.’
Major Barr came in at that moment. He inquired after Marianne’s health and then settled down to talk to Lady Edgeworthy about the mine. Lord Marlbeck had seen copper, but it would need an expert to decide whether or not it was rich enough to warrant reopening the mine.
Marianne’s thoughts drifted away. She was trying to be sensible and not think of Drew, but it was proving difficult to shut him out of her thoughts. If only he had stayed to say goodbye to her it would not have seemed so bad, but his departure without a word had left her feeling low in spirits. Yet she ought not to be, for her mother and at least one of her sisters would soon join her and in another few days they would celebrate Jane’s wedding.
Marianne woke suddenly. The moon was shining in at her window, because she had not quite closed her curtains, and that must be the reason for her dream, which had been very muddled. She had been thinking about Mama and Lucy before she went to bed, and in her dream, her sister had called to her in a fever, but she could not reach her because there was a thick mist and a river to cross. She had called out for Drew to help her, but he had not answered her cry, though she could see his face through the mist.
Such a foolish dream! Marianne felt better as it faded. She knew that her dream had troubled her because of Mama’s letter, and of course she missed Drew. She had grown accustomed to seeing him, and it would take time to forget the wonderful feeling of joy that his smile had given her.
But perhaps he would come back…Her thoughts were distracted as she caught sight of something moving in the garden. Was it merely a trick of the moonlight or had she seen a man’s shadow near the far end of the garden? She shivered, closing the curtains and running back to bed. Thank goodness they had blocked the entrance into the cellars, though she was almost sure that Joshua would not dare to come here, because they would surely still be searching for him.
Her feeling of alarm eased as she recalled something that Drew had once told her. He had warned her that she might turn and see a shadow following her—someone that he had sent for her protection.
Yes, now that she thought about it, she realised that it had probably been someone sent to watch the house just in case Joshua Hambleton returned to the area. And if Drew had cared enough to make sure that she and her aunt were safe, perhaps he would return himself one day. The thought comforted her and she snuggled down in the warmth of her feather mattress to sleep again.
A letter arrived the next morning to say that Mrs Horne and Lucy would be with them by the middle of the next week. Jo was to stay with Aunt Wainwright until they went down to Bath.
She is reconciled to the idea now that we are all to visit Bath for a few weeks. She had been missing your good sense, Marianne, but I believe she will do well enough now.
Marianne’s ankle had returned to normal by this time and she was able to walk about the house and garden quite freely. She spent the days between the receipt of her letter and her mama’s arrival by helping to prepare their rooms. Bessie cleaned and polished them, airing the beds thoroughly, because, as she said, she did not want poor Miss Lucy to be ill again, then Marianne helped Bessie with the linen and arranged the various cushions and trinkets that had been added to Lucy’s room to make it more comfortable.
The morning that her family were expected, she brought in flowers for her sister and mother’s rooms. She had expected them to arrive in the morning—their letter had said they would stay overnight in Truro and come on the next day. However, it was almost three o’clock when they finally arrived in Uncle Wainwright’s carriage.
Marianne flew out of the house to hug her sister, who burst into tears and said that she never wished to be parted from her again, for it had all been too horrible and she had thought she would die and never see her again.
‘Lucy, my dearest,’ Marianne hushed her. She drew back to look at her and was a little shocked to see how very pale she was, all her lovely colour quite gone. ‘Was it so very bad at the Lodge?’
‘It was horrid,’ Lucy said. ‘My room is so small and there is nowhere to put all my things. They had to take most of our things up to the attics and…it isn’t like home at all.’
‘Well, you have a lovely big room here,’ Marianne said. ‘If Mama agrees, you may all make your home here, and you need not go back to the Lodge ever again.’
‘Marianne, my dear child,’ Mrs Horne said and embraced her eldest daughter. ‘I am very glad to be here. I am not sure that we may trespass on my aunt’s good nature for ever, but it will be pleasant to stay for a few weeks—and a visit to Bath is something I have often thought I should enjoy.’
‘Come in and get warm by the fire,’ Marianne urged, for she still had hold of her sister’s hand, which felt cold. The breeze was bitter at that moment and she hurried Lucy inside, not wanting her to take another chill.
For the next few minutes there was a flurry of greetings, as Lucy and Mama kissed Lady Edgeworthy and made themselves comfortable. Jane was introduced and refreshments were brought in. When everyone was settled and warm again, Marianne took her sister upstairs, leaving Mama and Lady Edgeworthy to talk by themselves for a little. Jane had gone to the kitchens to talk to Cook about something, and the two sisters were alone.
Lucy stood in the room Marianne and Bessie had so carefully prepared for her, her eyes moving slowly round it. It was furnished in shades of pink and cream, the furniture the prettiest that could be found amongst all the pieces that were used for the guest-rooms, and moved there to please her. Marianne had discovered some books of fairy stories and fables in the library and placed them on a delicate table, which stood in the window. A chair with a comfortable padded seat and a wide back had been placed beside it so that she might sit and read or look out at the garden.
‘Do you think you can be happy here, dearest?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Lucy said. ‘I packed most of my favourite things in my trunk and when they are unpacked it will be almost like home—and we may send for the rest of our things if Mama decides that we may stay here. I do hope she does—I do not want to go back to the Lodge.’
‘I am sure she will once she understands how important it is for Aunt Bertha. I have not yet told Mama what had been going on here, but our aunt has been the victim of a cruel rogue, and she needs her family about her.’
Lucy looked at her with wide eyes. ‘Poor Aunt Bertha! Do tell me everything,’ she begged.
‘Sit in your chair and I shall sit on the dressing stool,’ Marianne said. ‘It is a long story, which I am sure Aunt Bertha is now relating to Mama.’
She made light of her own part in the story, particularly the moment when she had feared for her life, because she did not want to distress her sister. Lucy was fascinated by the tale of smugglers’ caves, secret tunnels and French spies, though she looked upset when she heard that an attempt had been made on Lady Edgeworthy’s life.
‘The wicked rogue!’ she cried. ‘I am glad that you discovered what he was up to, Marianne, and that the tunnel has been blocked up so that no one can get into the house that way.’
‘I can assure you that it will never be used again,’ Marianne said with a smile. ‘So everything is all right and we may be happy together.’
‘But what of Lord Marlbeck?’ Lucy asked. ‘You said that he wanted to catch Mr Hamblet
on because he was a traitor—have you heard from him since then? Do you know if that horrid man has been caught and punished?’
‘No, there has been no word,’ Marianne said, trying for lightness. ‘Jane told me that Lord Marlbeck hoped to come down again for her wedding, but he has not sent word. I dare say he has been busy. As the owner of Marlbeck—and various other estates—he will have too many responsibilities to think of us.’
‘Oh…’ Lucy stared at her. Marianne had written of someone called Mr Beck in her letters, and both she and Jo had thought that their sister rather liked him. ‘You did not know that Mr Beck was the marquis until recently?’
‘No. I suppose he wished to keep his identity a secret,’ Marianne said, avoiding her sister’s curious gaze. ‘Anyway, we need not speak of him, for I dare say we shall not see him again or at least only for a brief visit. I think we should both change for dinner, dearest. After all, we have plenty of time to talk now.’
‘Yes, it is so lovely of Aunt Bertha to let us come and stay,’ Lucy said, her thoughts diverted. ‘And it will be exciting to visit Bath. I am too young to be out, I know, but Mama says there will be lots of things for me to do there.’
‘Yes, I think there must be,’ Marianne said and smiled lovingly at her sister. ‘I shall leave you now, because I want to talk to Mama before we go down for dinner, and I dare say she will have come up by now.’
Leaving Lucy to explore her room and discover all the treasures that had been brought there for her use, Marianne walked to her own bedchamber. Lucy’s pleasure in such simple things had warmed her. She knew that she was very fortunate to have her family, and told herself that she would now put all thought of Lord Marlbeck from her mind. It was clear to her that he had forgotten her, for if he had wanted he might have written to her before this—or come down to see her.
Drew frowned as he looked across the table at Captain Harcourt. They were sharing a bottle of wine in the library at Marlbeck, for he had been forced to return to his estate on a matter of urgent business and Jack had posted down to join him.