Lawnton stood up unsteadily and glanced Nate’s way. “Well?” he demanded. “We don’t seem to be getting any bloody closer to Ireland.”
“You’re supposed to be keeping a lookout for the lights on the coast,” Nate returned. “Do you see any?”
The man harrumphed and made his way to the other side of the Sprite. Hardacre moved around the mast to avoid detection. Nate understood why without being told. As long as Lawnton believed Adam was incapacitated, he would be less on his guard.
“Got a plan?” Nate inquired down to Adam.
“Not really,” he said. “Try and get him to tell you where Susannah is. We’ll work it out from there. What’s our heading?”
“Southeast. The wind is running with us, we should see the Cornish coast within the next two hours.”
*
The anonymous coach rolled to a stop outside The Queen’s Head.
Sir Daniel Ridgeway didn’t wait for the footman. He had opened the door and dropped the steps before the coachman had even applied the brake.
He knew something was amiss the moment he saw the inn from the top of the crossroads.
The last of the sunlight changed from yellow to orange and what he’d thought were lights in the windows were instead an illusion, fading as the sun descended.
There ought to be smoke from the kitchen and dining room fires drifting skyward. The place had a deserted air. He tried to resist a superstitious shudder of being too little, too late once again.
He held a hand out to help his wife down first, then Olivia Hardacre.
“No welcome for us, eh?” Lady Abigail remarked.
She looked back to Olivia who was now making her way down the steps. Her brows were furrowed as she made her way directly to the door.
“Adam responded to the coded message this afternoon, so he knows our plans,” said Sir Daniel.
“There’s no note on the door,” said Olivia. “But I can see a light in one of the rooms so there is someone here.”
“Go secure the horses,” Sir Daniel told his coachman. “We’ll be staying anyway.”
The door to The Queen’s Head opened. A short, grim-faced man looked out and Sir Daniel stepped forward.
“Who are you?” the man asked, uncertainly.
“Sir Daniel Ridgeway and party.”
The man looked him up and down and relaxed.
“You’re the friends Adam Hardacre has spoken of. I’m Clem Pascoe.”
“You’re Nate’s friend,” Olivia said.
“Aye, that I am. You’d best come in. There’s been bad news and worse.”
The three new arrivals followed Clem inside.
“Me and my son got here not long ago, found my Peg and the lassie locked in the cellar. They’ve been there for half a day. I sent Sam to the village to get help.”
“And Mrs. Linwood?” Daniel asked.
Clem silently led them into the private parlor. A few lamps were lit and a warm fire burned in the hearth, but this was not a happy place.
Two women sat on the settee, each with blankets around their shoulders.
“Where’s the kitchen?” asked Olivia. “We’ll start with tea and warming up some food to eat.”
That seemed to rouse the younger one who, a moment before, had looked ready to burst into tears. “I’ll show you the kitchen,” she said, getting up.
Lady Abigail took the younger girl’s place on the settee.
Daniel looked at the older woman. Even from this distance, he could see a faint pink line across her throat.
“Peggy?” Clem said gently as though he were trying not to spook a frightened mare. “Tell Sir Daniel what you just told me… about Susannah.”
Peggy looked up at him, her bottom lip jutting out. “He burst through the door like he was Satan himself and hit poor Tressa on the head with a wine bottle. His name’s Robert Lawnton. He was confederate of Susannah’s late husband. Ooh, he’s a bad one. I… I told Duch that, he’s a bad one.”
Peggy accepted a glass of brandy from Clem and took a large swallow.
“And he’s taken Susannah?” Lady Abigail asked gently.
Peggy took in a deep breath and nodded. Daniel’s heart sank. The weather was beginning to turn and the inky skies had stolen whatever light there was in the day. He knew from Nate’s plan that the incoming tide over the next few days would bring a storm surge.
He was beginning to regret sending Adam and Nate out in it.
“Where?” he asked. “Did Lawnton say where he was taking Susannah?”
“She was so brave,” whispered Peggy. “That man held a knife to me. I thought I was going to die. Susannah persuaded him to let me go. She said she’d take him to the smugglers’ cave.”
“Why would she do that?”
“He was desperate like, because he’d killed someone, so he said,” said Peggy, and then without pausing for breath: “He wanted Nate to take him to Holland and he wanted the ledger that Jack Moorcroft had, except we didn’t have it anymore, we burned it, but we couldn’t tell Lawnton that because he would have slit my throat quick as a wink, so Susannah told him a tale to get him away from here…”
“Peggy,” Lady Abigail said gently, “you said this man claimed to have killed someone? Killed who?”
Daniel heard the sound of pounding feet and a youthful voice calling, “Da! Da!” He turned to the door as a young man burst through it.
“Da!” he exclaimed, addressing Clem. “There’s news all over the village. Mrs. Doyle from the big house – she’s been strangled! And her maid, she’s been done in, too!”
This must be Sam, thought Daniel. The young man noticed him and Abigail belatedly, and cast a puzzled glance at his father.
“It’s all right, Son, these are friends,” Clem assured him. “Did you get help to find Mrs. Linwood?”
“Aye, a dozen men are on their way to the beach now, but they’re worried about the tide with that storm sitting out at sea.”
“Then we don’t have time to waste,” said Daniel. “My men and I will join you.”
*
Lawnton was becoming increasingly agitated as the seas grew rougher. “What are you doing, man? Do something, for God’s sake!” he called out.
An hour ago, the lightning only flickered through the voluminous clouds on the horizon. Now, jagged bolts were visible, accompanied by booming thunder, carried on the wind that was now approaching gale force.
Nate braced himself at the helm. It wasn’t going to be long before he would have to consider dropping anchor and riding out the storm, or lashing himself to the wheel.
“You’ll be on dry land in an hour,” Nate shouted back, the lie uttered with confidence. “I’ve kept my end of the bargain, Lawnton, now tell me where Susannah is.”
Lawnton croaked out a laugh.
“She’s in Hell… where she belongs.”
Nate squeezed the Sprite’s wheel so tight his knuckles cracked.
Patience…
“If she’s dead, you bastard, then I’ve no reason keep you alive, do I?” Nate ground out through clenched teeth.
Lawnton waved a dismissive hand. “She’ll be all right for a few hours at least, if she doesn’t do anything stupid like try and find her own way out of the caves.”
As far as Nate was concerned, there was only one place that could be – the smugglers’ caves under Arthyn Hill.
“She’d better be all right otherwise I’ll track you down, kill you and take great pleasure doing it.”
“You do have it bad for her, don’t you? You’d better watch your step, mate, you might find yourself dead, too – oh, not by my hand, but hers. That prissy little miss killed Jack. If she dies, I’ll have done you a good turn, mate.”
Nate quelled the urge to kill the man where he stood.
Lawnton turned starboard and stumbled over to the side of the boat. “The lights!” he cried, pointing.
Nate had noticed them already and knew exactly where they were. On the Trethowan headland, the Do
yles’ mansion was lit up like a beacon. Bright yellow shone from every window as though every lamp in the place had been lit.
He used Lawnton’s distraction to lash the ship’s wheel. In the shadows, he saw Hardacre ready himself to catch their stowaway unawares.
They were coming in fast on the shore. Below the cliffs, the Doyles’ boathouse was lit up, too. A jagged run of lightning illuminated the scene. The sea appeared only yards away from the boathouse. If the storm surge continued, it might very well wash the structure away.
Belatedly, Lawnton recognized their location.
“You double-crossing bastard! You’ve brought me back to England! I’ll not set foot on shore for the hangman. I’d rather die here and take you with me.”
The Sprite pitched in the increasingly heavy seas as the water beneath them became shallower. The deck fell away from under Nate’s feet as Lawnton launched himself. The two men collided. Nate’s head hit the now rising deck, stunning him. He felt Lawnton get in two heavy punches before his vision cleared.
Hardacre, now would be a good time for you to show up…
The boat pitched once more, giving Nate the advantage. He shoved Lawnton off him and got to his feet. His attacker staggered wildly as a gust of wind hit broadside, pushing them toward the rocks.
“Hardacre! Take the wheel. Get us away from the rocks!”
Nate felt Lawnton’s arms encircle his chest from behind. Nate stepped forward, then threw his head back. There was the satisfying crunch of a nose being broken.
He rounded on Lawnton and got in a solid punch which sent the man sprawling among the jumble of line on the deck but it was not enough to knock him out. Lawnton rose.
“Jib-ho!”
Nate ducked automatically at Adam’s bellow.
Lawnton did not.
The boom swung in a wide arc across the deck. Lawnton saw it at the last moment and got his head down under the jib but a tangle of trailing line gathered under his chin and dragged him backwards across the deck and overboard. There was a scream then a much louder sound of thunder overtook it.
In the flash of lightning that followed a second later, Nate saw Lawnton hanging in the ropes, clawing wildly at his neck as they tightened, his feet kicking in the waves.
Nate turned away and ran to help Adam. Together, the two men struggled to bring the mainsheet under control. While Adam contended with the lines, Nate resumed control of his boat and prayed they had done enough to stop them foundering on the rocks. He waited for the sound of the hull scraping, but there was none.
He spared a glance along the length of the boom just as lightning flashed again. A limp figure hung beneath it.
Nate readied himself to duck on the reverse swing back but the boom stopped just before it crossed the gunwales and would not move. He nodded for Adam to investigate though he suspected he knew the cause.
On the Arthyn headland above the caves, he saw a line of torches making their way across and down to the sand.
“Jib-ho!”
This time, the boom swung as it ought and the Sprite picked up speed.
Adam made his way back to the helm, puffing with exertion. “Lawnton’s dead. I cut the line and let him drop.”
Nate simply nodded. “Then let’s not hang about.”
Any exhaustion he might have felt vanished. His only concern was Susannah.
He knew the caves flooded a couple of feet in during a regular high tide. During major storms, they were completely inundated. And he’d have to go in…
Memories of his imprisonment in France returned with shocking clarity. The horror of being trapped underground with no light in a confined space – his heart beat in triple time. But his fear for Susannah was greater than his own.
He spotted a light and turned the Sprite to the shore.
“Hold on! I’m going to beach her!”
He drove the Sprite at full sail up onto the beach. The keel dug hard into the sand. Adam threw out the anchor while he furled the sails. Nate knew the risks – if they didn’t get Susannah out before the tide reached its zenith, he’d lose her and the Sprite would be dashed against the cliffs. He would lose everything he loved and everything he’d ever worked for.
He jumped off the boat. Water was already lapping around his calves above the usual high tide mark.
Over the wind and the first few drops of rain he heard a high-pitched whistle. A man swung a lantern to attract his attention. Nate could make out a glow from inside the cave entrance. He ran with Hardacre at his shoulder.
“Thank God you’re here,” Clem called.
“Where is she?”
“Dunno, man! We’ve only just arrived.”
“Help us get the dinghy from the Sprite,” Nate ordered. “Then get everyone else out of here.”
Chapter Thirty
Susannah’s limbs protested as she crawled blindly away from the dead-end passage. She counted her progress in the motion of her hands and knees. Ten counts of ten, she promised herself. Ten counts of ten and she would stop for another rest.
By the time she had counted to sixty, the moving air was more than a whisper – it was a distinct breeze with the tang of sea salt on it.
In the blackness, she squeezed her eyes closed tight until she saw red spots dance before her, just to remind herself what was open and what was closed.
She ached mightily. Everything ached in the bitter cold. The wind from outside wailed mournfully through the cavern. She breathed in deep, hoping the smell of salt air wasn’t an illusion. It wasn’t. She sucked in another lungful, beginning to revive from her lethargy.
“Hello! Is anyone there?”
Her call was drowned out by the sound of surging water but it gave her hope.
If she could hear the wind and the sound of water, she must be close to the entrance!
She sat and reached up, feeling for the roof. She could not touch it. She crouched and reached up and around her and felt nothing but air.
Suddenly, that was more frightening than the narrow apertures she had wormed her way through. If she walked, a deep drop could kill her. Worse still, the thought of being trapped underground with broken limbs and her last moments being of pain and terror.
“Help me! Oh God… someone, please help me!”
Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out…
She battled her fears one by one, starting with the one that whispered in her ear – you deserve to die here alone. Alone, unloved, unmourned…
A lie!
Nate loved her. He would not leave her. He would do everything in his power to find her. And there was Peggy, her dearest friend, who tried to protect her from the worst of Jack’s temper, who held her together in the aftermath of his death. Peggy would try to find her. And wonderful Clem who she loved as a brother.
She owed it to them to not give up on herself.
In that, she found the strength to go on.
With both hands on her head to protect it, Susannah rose to her feet without once making contact with a ceiling. She raised one tentative hand. Her fingertips scraped across rock.
Oh, blessed relief to be able to stand! She stretched her cramped muscles and reached out. She was cold, sore with a few cuts and bruises but otherwise uninjured. That was another thing to be thankful for.
She planted her feet and stretched out to the right to feel for a wall. There was nothing. She did the same thing on the left and, at the far extension of her fingers, she felt rock. She shuffled over and nearly hugged the wall.
Being on two feet was not much faster than crawling but it was kinder on her knees. She used the wall on her left to guide her way and reached forward blindly with her right while shuffling along to feel whether the next step was on solid rock or a void. All she knew was she was heading up a slight incline with a breeze on her face.
She listened. There was something beyond the wind and the water. Perhaps the sound of voices.
Hope growing, she continued slowly forward to where the sound appeared
to be coming from. She blinked and squeezed her eyes tight before opening them.
Was there light? Or was that, too, an illusion? She continued to follow the breeze. The tang of salt air was stronger here. So, too, the swirl of damp air. The strange sounds continued.
A flash of lightning briefly illuminated the cave before it turned back once more. Close enough now for light to reach inside! Thunder rumbled and bounced around the walls.
“Hello!”
Hello!
That didn’t sound like her echo.
“Hello! Who’s there!”
“Susannah!”
The sound of her name was so faint, she wasn’t sure whether she’d heard it or it was nothing more than her imagination.
She shuffled along again then stumbled on loose stones and fell.
She screamed.
*
“Susannah!”
Nate ran, leaving it to Adam to haul the little rowboat through the knee-deep water.
“Nate!”
He ignored Adam’s call. He held the lantern high and glanced in the chamber where he had stowed the goods he had brought back from France.
Susannah was not there.
Nate called her name with increasing urgency.
Several seconds passed before he heard an answering call and headed for the deeper parts of the cave that he had only once explored as a boy.
Back then, he had not been afraid, but back then he had not experienced the claustrophobic horror of the oubliette. Nonetheless, he rushed on, knowing that hidden around an ancient tumble of rocks was another chamber.
“Susannah!”
*
Fortunately, she had fallen no further than on her bottom.
“Susannah!”
Now the echoing voice was real.
“Stay where you are! We’ll find you. Stay where you are!”
“Help!” she cried.
“Sing to us, Susannah.”
Sing?
Her mind went blank.
“Sing us a song, my darling, and we’ll come to you.”
She took a deep breath and sang the first thing that came to her mind.
Early one morning,
Just as the sun was rising,
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