“I am less concerned now that I have seen you. I do not think anyone will recognize you as other than you are. You look every inch a gamekeeper. No one would think you the same Sir David from the Cavenray ball. If you wish to see Letty, I can help you arrange it.”
Hopefully he would not live to regret it.
Chapter 5
Today I remembered why I have not galloped in years. It might be another decade before I can say the word again. I also discovered my guest is not as tranquil as I had credited her, and I could scarce keep up with her. It shall not happen again.—3 Feb
How is your mother faring this morning?” Charlotte asked as her guest joined her in the breakfast room. It was another bright space, papered in pale green and facing the gardens. Flowers from the hot house dotted the tables, bringing the feel of spring.
“Very well, thank you. I left her in the hands of her capable nurse, doing some exercises Lady Wyndham recommended.”
“Please, do help yourself.” Charlotte waved towards the buffet of food set out on the sideboard—bacon, eggs, kippers, fresh scones and more. She watched with envy as the little wisp of a thing piled her plate high.
“Very good. I am thankful she has something helpful to do while you are here.”
“She insisted I enjoy my time with you, but you must not feel obligated to entertain me.”
“I do not, I assure you,” Charlotte said with an impish smile. “I was thinking to ride again today. Yesterday was my first long ride in some time and I had quite forgotten how invigorating the exercise is. I do, however, feel some muscles that I am certain I did not have before.”
Letty laughed. “I would enjoy a ride very much. I have not been on a horse a great deal since I left the Indies.”
“Then we shall not abuse ourselves as much as I did yesterday.”
“Good morning,” Benedict greeted them as he strolled into the room in his riding attire.
“Good morning. Have you already been in the saddle this morning?” Charlotte enquired.
“Of course,” he answered with an insouciant air, beginning to fill his plate. He sat down as a footman began to pour his coffee.
“You seem more cheerful today. Does that mean Jolie will be joining us soon?”
His wistful smile was answer enough. How she longed for someone to miss her like that. “Yes, they are expected by tea-time.” Lifting his knife and fork, he paused. “Miss Dickerson, I have a letter for you. I left it in the study, if you would join me there after breakfast?”
“Thank you, your Grace. Please do call me Letty. I am unused to the formalities.”
Benedict inclined his head. “As long as you do not address me as ‘your Grace’ at every turn.”
Letty smiled and Charlotte detected a resemblance to another smile she saw in her dreams. She sighed into her chocolate and tried to keep her attention on the present, wondering if Elly had sent over a note. It was too early for the post.
“Benedict, is there a mount you would recommend for Letty? We would like to ride this morning.”
His eyebrows elevated in surprise. While it had been some time since she had evidenced any interest in anything other than her books, she had been brought up in the saddle like all the Stanton family. Ignoring his look, she continued, “I rode Minerva yesterday and she was in good form.”
“Of course she is, or some grooms are out of a position. I have Dido here, and I am putting her to stud with an Andalusian while I am visiting. She is not in heat yet, so that can wait until later. How accomplished a rider are you, Letty?”
“I have been riding since the cradle.”
“Then you can handle Dido. Mayhap a good ride will make her nicer to the stallion.” He smiled and looked distant, as though lost in a memory. Then he started, placed his napkin on the plate and stood up. I will be in the study at your convenience, Letty.”
“I will call for the horses to be ready in an hour,” Charlotte said as they, too, finished the meal and rose to their feet.
Letty followed Benedict down the hall and Charlotte went to tell the butler to send to the stables for Minerva and Dido. As she walked back past the study, she overheard her brother and Letty still talking. Thinking nothing of it, she walked on to the stairs when she heard Letty ask, “Uncle David is here? At Langborn?”
Charlotte froze and strained to hear.
“He is my new gamekeeper. He wishes his presence to be kept quiet, however.”
“Yes, of course,” she heard Letty say sadly. “I just cannot fathom how it came to this. He is—or I thought he was—a wealthy landowner! Do you think the King will ever grant his pardon?”
“Who can say what George will do?”
“You think he is toying with him?”
“I cannot predict. He is very much used to having his way.”
Letty sniffed as though struggling with tears. Charlotte felt conflicted as she eavesdropped, but she wanted to know more. Had the King refused to pardon Sir David? Then why was he free and working for Benedict? Was he wanted and hiding?
“Am I allowed to see him?” Letty asked.
“It is dangerous to acknowledge him openly. He is to be known simply as Douglas while he is here. I think it best to meet with him at the house as no one will suspect anything if he comes pretending to meet with the steward or owner. It will be harder to explain if you are seen going to the cottage.”
“Yes, of course. I would never want to jeopardize his life! Was he very angry when he discovered Mama and I were here?”
“Not very, but he thought it best to warn you not to know him in public.”
There was a quiet pause, and Charlotte knew she should leave before she was found listening.
“He does not deserve this, your Grace. He is a good man. Thank you for giving him a place.”
“Let us hope it all works out in the end.”
Before she could be caught, Charlotte hurried on up the stairs to change into her riding habit. Her mind raced with questions, the foremost being, was he her mystery man? If so, what could be done to help him?
An hour later, Charlotte and Letty were downstairs ready to ride. The grooms assisted them onto their mounts and Charlotte decided to take Letty on a tour of the estate. No one had warned her against seeing Sir David. Thank goodness she had overheard. What if she had, all unbeknownst, compromised his disguise? Yet why would Benedict keep it a secret from her? It made no sense.
“I thought I would take you on a tour of our property. That will be far enough for today.”
“As long as we can view the cliffs,” Letty said. “I miss the ocean dreadfully.”
“I try to explain that to my brother every time he insists I move north. I enjoy London for a little while and then I must have the sea again.”
“Your brother reminds me of mine. It is the ducal air about them, I suppose. It is all so foreign to me, having been brought up on a small island with mostly servant children for playmates.”
“Yes, I suppose that would be different. Was there no gentry on your island?” she asked as they trotted along a path away from the stables.
“Oh, there were a few families, but Uncle David never felt particularly comfortable entertaining. There are not many ladies, and those there hunted him.”
Charlotte could only imagine such a scene as she felts pangs of jealousy. “You were happy there, then?”
“I was. My uncle treated me as his own and I never wanted for anything.” She smiled wistfully.
“He sounds like a good man. There is not much age difference, is there, if he is Lady Brennan’s youngest brother?”
“He is less than ten years my senior.”
“It must have been quite a responsibility to take you on so young.”
“Indeed, but he never seemed to resent me.”
They chatted on and Letty followed Charlotte’s lead, not knowing they were taking the long route to the cliffs in order to pass nearby the gamekeeper’s cottage.
“I hope this dreadful busine
ss will be over with soon.”
Charlotte fell back to be next to her companion. “Do you refer to the business with Lord Brennan?”
“Yes. Apparently the King has not yet pardoned my uncle. I cannot understand it.”
“I thought it was your uncle who uncovered Brennan’s smuggling ring and brought him to justice?”
“It was.”
Charlotte mulled these things over and could not decide her thoughts. She was forced to slow the horses as they came near a row of matching stone cottages at the point on the property where the grassy meadow they were riding through became forest. The nearest house belonged to the steward, and there were two empty cottages before they reached the farthest, which was the gamekeeper’s. Charlotte and the Dowager passed very quiet lives and rarely entertained, so there was little need for the extra servants which went with a ducal residence. It did seem a shame that two perfectly good houses stood empty. They were charming, with their stone walls, thatched roofs and gardens surrounded by neat wooden fences. Perhaps she would discuss that further with Benedict. Smoke rose from the last chimney and Charlotte’s heart began to race. She did not wish to be discovered stalking Sir David, even though she longed to see him. She turned the horse back towards the sea after pointing out the edge of the property to Letty.
“That road leads to Loring Abbey. The southernmost path would take you directly back to Wyndham.”
“The path to Wyndham skirts the cliffs?”
“Yes.”
“Race you to them!” Letty shouted as she turned Dido and urged her into a gallop.
Charlotte turned Minerva and the mare was pleased to chase after Dido. She would recognize the gleam in Letty’s eye next time, however. It had been years since Charlotte had had a proper gallop or race, and it felt freeing. Or it would if she were not concerned about Letty misjudging the distance to the cliff’s edge. Leaning over Minerva, she set about catching up with Dido—which was no small feat.
Years of riding served her very well when she would otherwise have been inclined to panic, for they were gaining on Dido at a spanking pace, as her brother would say. Unfortunately, Letty was heading straight for the edge of a ravine which she might not see in time to jump clear. Charlotte called out a warning to her companion and attempted to overtake her, but Minerva missed her footing, almost going down as her hind legs splayed. Charlotte had an instant to disengage her foot from the stirrup and the other from about the pommel before tumbling safely to the hard ground. She looked up to see Letty had traversed the ravine and was circling back to her.
“Charlotte! Are you hurt?” Letty asked as she pulled Dido up beside her and dismounted.
“Only some bruising. I think Minerva might have come up lame," she observed, looking at the mare. “I was terrified you would not see the ravine in time.”
“I feel horrible! I know better than to race on unfamiliar territory!”
Letty helped Charlotte to her feet, then they walked over to where Minerva was standing, holding the injured leg away from the ground. She ran her hand down the leg, but could not determine the extent of the injury.
“Oh, you poor dear! Please let it be minor!” Letty said frantically.
“Do you think you can find your way back to the stables?” Charlotte asked.
“Yes.”
“Go get Simmons and bring him back here. I will wait with Minerva.”
Letty nodded and Charlotte boosted her up into the saddle. As Letty rode away, Charlotte turned to croon soothingly to the mare, praying she could be saved.
David swore under his breath and dashed behind a large tree when he saw Letty and Lady Charlotte approach his cottage on horseback. Had Yardley not warned them?
He would have to rethink his plan. Endangering himself was one thing, but his niece and Lady Charlotte...
The object of his thoughts deftly manoeuvred her mare around and headed quickly in the other direction. Breathing a sigh of relief mixed with regret, he admired the way she sat the horse and commanded it with ease.
He shook his head with self-recrimination. He must stop yearning after what could never be. Had he been a few minutes earlier, he would have been caught by them as he returned to his cottage. Turning, he headed towards the cliffs to do his dirty work—work that labelled him a criminal and completely unfit for a duke’s daughter.
Pulling his hat lower over his head, he thrust his hands into his overcoat and slouched, hoping to make himself even less recognizable. He deliberately forced himself to walk in a rough gait like that of a labourer as he climbed to the cliffs, looking for the pathway towards the beach. It was the same route the smugglers used on their way further inland to store their contraband.
It was a safe time to explore since most of the free-traders had daytime occupations. As gamekeeper, he was authorized to explore every inch of Yardley’s land in the daylight. He made his way quickly down the rocky slope, having had years of experience along the coast of Westmorland—once innocently as a youth, and then in his reckless days as Captain Deuce.
He reached the cliff’s edge, the wind whipping his coat against him as he held onto his hat. He was struck by the bright blue of the water at its shallowest, a similar contrast to the white beaches of Barbados. He had never before stood on the southernmost coast of England. The strength of the wind off the water and the sharp descent, should he misstep, gave him the desire to hurry this distasteful task along with due haste.
Pausing to glory in the majesty of the Creation, and take a moment to be thankful he was still free, he scanned the horizon and reminded himself no matter what the outcome, there was something greater than he. It was impossible to deny there was a greater power when he watched the force of the waves crashing against the rocks below, or the sun paint colours in the sky. Even being witness to the birth of a foal made him feel awe.
Looking westward from the easternmost point of the Langborn property, the cliffs sloped downward to a beach. There was no cover along the cliffs, just grassy downs, and he began to scout as he walked for signs of the trade. The drop to the beach was quite steep, he found, as his foot slipped and some of the earth gave way. There was not much beach to be had, especially some parts abutting the cliffs, making it a dangerous operation depending heavily on the tides.
He skirted the water’s edge until there was an opening in the chalky rock. A pathway leading north was found right where Yardley had said it would be. With David’s experience in the trade, he began looking for nearby caves or tunnels. There would have to be some entry point to make it a long-standing, reliable smuggling route to London.
He began to run his hands along the cliff face until he found what he was searching for—rocks, greenery—anything to disguise a cave for what it was. Looking around to make certain he was unobserved, he pulled back on the long tussocks of grass hanging down that were hiding a tunnel entrance. Beyond the initial entrance, which could be dismissed as a cave, a well-formed passage met his eyes, high enough for even he to walk through without stooping. He pulled a small lantern from underneath his overcoat and lit it with a flint.
He began to pace off his steps as he made his way upward through the opening in the earth. It was quite some distance before he met choices, and the damp, musty coolness pervaded his senses the further along he went. The fork to the right appeared as though it went back to Yardley’s estate. He would investigate that one later. However, the other two pathways looked to have greater usage. He followed the one he judged to be in the direction of the village, and continued pacing his steps so he could retrace them later. By the time he climbed a flight of stairs and met with a door, he was fairly confident he was at the Black Horse Inn. He took out a small journal and made notes before retracing his route back to the central lane at the fork. Judging by the amount of oil left in his lantern, he thought he could follow one more route, though he could continue in darkness if needs must.
The second path appeared to end at a crypt. Could it be the village church? There was no sign
of recent activity, no evidence of any storage taking place. That would mean Dunn either had a very efficient system to move their goods quickly, or they did small loads they could manage in one night.
The bright sun accosted his eyes as he came out of the cliff side. He looked around him as carefully as he could and hoped he was still unseen. Once he was clear of the tunnel, he began to ponder. It would be unsurprising for the local alehouse to assist in the free trade. After all, once the innkeeper had the goods, he was free to sell them. Nevertheless, the path to what he presumed was the crypt also appeared well used, and that could indicate compliance by the vicar—or at least him feigning ignorance. It had been known to happen and nothing, at this point in his illustrious career, would surprise him.
As he began to re-climb the path against the wind, he stopped short when he noticed a horse and a lady up before him. Lady Charlotte... alone, with no Letty in sight.
His first instinct was to run. Was she injured? If he stood there gawking long enough she would discover him anyway. Would she recognize him? Would Yardley seriously expect him to stay away from her if she was hurt? The question settled it for him and he climbed quickly to see if she needed help.
Chapter 6
How invigorating it is to be an independent woman. I can say and do as I please. Well, so far as I have been able to test my new-found character on my new friend, Letty. She is everything I have ever dreamed of being—dainty and delightful in a tactfully petite package. The complete opposite of myself. I want to hate her, but she is simply too perfect.—4 Feb
Minerva was growing more agitated and time seemed to slow. Charlotte considered; she could probably walk her mare back to the stables, but she was terrified to do her more harm. What if she caused more damage and the horse had to be put down? She stroked the dark chestnut neck soothingly and crooned reassurances, but it felt like she had been waiting forever in the whipping wind. What was taking them so long? Had Letty lost her way?
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