Moon and Stars

by Elizabeth Johns

  “I think we need to search methodically, both on land and sea. Lord Wyndham, if you could arrange a search of your land along the coast, since your property begins on the other side of the ravine, that would be enormously helpful. Captain Harris, if you could organize more patrols in the water between Shoreham and Newhaven? Perhaps even a blockade, if it comes to that.”

  “I think that is an excellent idea,” Harris agreed.

  “I will request more officers for land patrols,” Prescott added.

  “My feeling is they are using Yardley’s boat and his property for this operation as a means to deflect any blame. I suspect those old tunnels are one of their hiding places, with their convenience to the ravine. The question is, how do we access them without alerting the enemy?”

  Cavenray, who had been listening with an expression of intense concentration, spoke up. “Do we need to remove the women and children? After last time, when Lord and Lady Brennan were shot, I would prefer our families be far away.”

  “We can move everyone to the Court,” Lord Wyndham offered. “The funeral is over and there is plenty of room.”

  “Charlotte is the only one living here now, so if it appears the guests are all leaving, it will probably make the smugglers less wary—if they even know we are here,” Yardley remarked.

  “I assure you, they are aware,” David responded. “Brennan had spies in places you would never imagine. When Cavenray arrived last summer, Brennan grew anxious and began making mistakes.”

  “Do we not want them to make mistakes?” Wyndham asked.

  “Yes, but not at the cost of lives,” Cavenray answered.

  “This location has been ideal because my mother and sister were not exactly watchful. All of us arriving en masse has likely caused some paranoia amongst the gang’s leadership.”

  “And while most free-traders are not violent, often the leaders will do anything to protect their operations and, possibly, a man prominent in Society. This type of shipment could be lucrative enough to allow a man financial freedom,” David said.

  “If it looks as though we are all leaving, will they relax their guard?” Yardley asked.

  “I would assume so,” David answered.

  “Then we shall make it appear so.”

  “I would like to search the library for any signs of the old tunnel entrance.” David rose to go and search.

  “Be my guest. Jeffries might remember.”

  Chapter 12

  Never again will I read a Gothic suspense…—15 Feb

  “Do not think about the mice. Do not think about the mice,” Charlotte commanded herself through chattering teeth. “What would one of your heroines do? A source of light would magically appear or her hero would come to the rescue,” she answered dryly in her one-sided conversation.

  Reality being what it was, there was no light. She eased as close as she dared to the wall, hoping to hear signs of human life on the other side. There was nothing but silence. “Where will the family be now? The women will be in the drawing room and the men are, no doubt, still in the study, talking about breeding and brandy.”

  Taking the poker, she began to tap on the wall. Perhaps, if fortune favoured her, she would strike the latch and this nightmare would be over with the swirl of the fireplace.

  Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. She began to tap the beats to her favourite country jig to calm herself and keep her mind away from rodents.

  When that ended, she began a vocal rendition of Bluebells of Scotland and her voice sent an eerie echo through the tunnels. If that did not bring someone running, what would? Of course, she had to change the words to fit the man of her dreams:

  * * *

  Oh where, tell me, where is your pirate laddie gone?

  Oh where, tell me, where is your pirate laddie gone?

  He's gone with teams of smugglers where ignoble deeds are done

  And my sad heart will tremble till he comes safely home.

  Oh where, tell me, where did your pirate laddie stay?

  Oh where, tell me, where did your pirate laddie stay?

  He dwelt beneath the moon and stars beside the crashing sea

  Where your heart followed him the night he went away.

  He dwelt beneath the moon and stars beside the crashing sea

  And many a heartache followed him the night he went away.

  * * *

  Then, becoming desperate as the cold seeped into her bones, she started pleading with the wall to move.

  “What have I ever done to you? Other than burn lovely warm fires inside you? Indeed, it would be rather sporting of you to be lit at the moment,” she chastised the inanimate object. “I would have light and could stay warm. ‘’Tis too much to ask,’ did I hear you say?”

  “Is someone there?” She heard a muffled voice through the wall. She could not make out to whom it belonged.

  “Yes! Yes! Help!” she shouted, putting her ear closer to hear better.

  “Lady Charlotte? How did you get behind the wall?”

  “I hit the sconce on the wall by accident. It broke and the fireplace spun around. Please get me out of here!”

  “I am trying to do so. Stay calm,” he said.

  “It is dark and there are mice! I am not sure calm is possible!” she replied frantically.

  “I am looking for the device which opens the door. There is no sconce on this side.”

  “And I am afraid I broke the one on my side. What do you see there?”

  “A bookcase.”

  “Try pulling on all the books. That is how it works in novels,” she said, grinning to herself at the ludicrous idea that she could be an authority on such a thing.

  “Very well. This could take a while.”

  She heard book after book being withdrawn and dropped, presumably on the floor, and she grew impatient.

  “Try the right-hand side. The latch was to the left of the fireplace, of a height with my head.” She recalled the offending object easily, thanks to the bump on her head.

  “Useful information,” he said in a sarcastic tone. It was followed by silence.

  “Where did you go? Keep talking to me! Do not leave me!”

  “Hold on, my lady,” she heard him say before a click pierced the heavy blackness and the wall opened. Sir David was suddenly there, jamming a chair in the opening to keep the door ajar before stepping inside to join her in the hidden room.

  “Thank God!” she exclaimed as she threw her arms around him.

  “You are chilled to the bone!” he said as he ran his hands up and down her bare arms.

  “I thought I was going to freeze to death in here—or have a heart spasm.”

  “A heart spasm?” She could hear the amusement in his voice.

  “Mice,” she explained.

  “Amongst other creatures,” he agreed, the wretched man.

  The warmth of his arms around her felt so very good. She could feel him trying to release her but she would not let go.

  “Lady Charlotte, we must go back inside so you can warm yourself. I need to investigate this room.”

  “Why ever would you want to do that?”

  “It was supposed to be sealed.”

  She could hear the prevarication in his voice.

  “And?”

  “And I must ensure there is no hidden access to the house.”

  “Does this have to do with smuggling?”

  He hesitated.

  “Yardley told me,” she prompted, hoping he would not ask her to say more.

  “Come inside. I will fetch a lantern.”

  They stepped back through the narrow opening and she sat on the sofa with relief, revelling in the warmth and light. Sir David left the room and returned with a lantern and two cloaks. He wrapped one around her and she snuggled into it.

  “Shall I call for your maid?” he asked as he once more stepped away from her.

  “Are you not going to explain?” she returned, unable to hide her disappointment.

  “I must have
a look around before I can answer.”

  “Then I shall wait.”

  He scowled, much like her brother did when he was displeased. Unlike her brother, he seemed to swallow his spleen and walked over to pour a glass of brandy. He returned to her and handed her the glass before picking up the lantern and returning through the secret panel.

  Charlotte wrinkled her nose at the brandy. It smelled rather like the turpentine used to clean paintbrushes. She did not care for spirits of any kind, but she supposed a sip or two might help her stop shivering. With each sip, her body began to warm and relax. She dearly wanted to know what Sir David was unearthing in that room—but not quite enough to go back in there. Curiosity killed the cat, after all.

  Nevertheless, growing impatient, she did rise and light a taper, in order to look through the opening. Holding her candle up high, she brought her other hand to her mouth. The flickering flame illuminated a cave-like room the size of a small ballroom. Wooden crates were stacked from floor to ceiling, almost filling the entire room. She gasped. “What is all of this?”

  She heard David’s footsteps approach and then he appeared around one of the stacks.

  “Something you would be better not to know,” he replied.

  “Then I shall look for myself,” she said haughtily, stepping back into the cave. It was not so scary with light... except that, tipsy from the spirits, she tripped and knocked the chair back. The door slammed behind them, blowing her taper out.

  Sir David let out an oath as he caught her in his arms.

  She began to giggle.

  “No more spirits for you, ever.”

  “It is quite humorous.”

  “Except for the fact that the latch is broken from this side,” he pointed out.

  “Oh. Oh no!”

  The door at the other end of the room began to rattle.

  “Hush!” he whispered into her ear, drawing her down behind a crate and turning down his light. “They will not hesitate to slit your throat and leave you to the rodents,” he warned.

  She swallowed hard and hoped they could not hear her heart pounding.

  * * *

  “I do not think we should be here with all them swells visiting.”

  “Well, all them swells are starting to sniff around. Deuced bad luck them arriving just now. One house party could undo months of work!”

  “They think this room is sealed.”

  “Let us not give them a reason to suspect otherwise. Is all of it here?”

  “Except for the ammunition, yessir. We just got to finish this last run and will be in the clear.”

  “Then see it done as quickly as possible. We must make certain this run happens without incident. Dispose of anyone who gets in the way.”

  * * *

  Footsteps echoed as they walked toward the door and left. The lock clicked and the key turned. Charlotte was too scared to move. She could feel David’s breath on her neck and a thrill of awareness caused her to tremble. It was a strange mixture of fear and anticipation. They stayed there, his arms still holding her safe, for a few more minutes. Growing impatient, she wriggled around to face him.

  “Be still, woman! You will be the death of me yet,” he muttered.

  She looked up. “What is going on? Who were those men?”

  David sighed.

  “First, let me determine if we can get out of here without alarming the whole household. Then I shall endeavour to explain as much as I can.”

  He attempted to step back but she held on.

  “Will that explanation include why you insist on rejecting me?” Where had this boldness come from? It was much easier in the dark—and with the false courage of brandy.

  “I have already explained.”

  “Very unsatisfactorily, too, if I might say so. I know there is a kind, honourable side to you,” she taunted.

  “What else is there to say, Lady Charlotte?” he asked. Kneeling down, he relit the lantern before regaining his feet to pierce her with those grey, grey eyes. “Stop trying to make a hero out of me. I will never be what you deserve or want.”

  “Then be a rogue and kiss me.” She stepped closer, tempting fate. He stood as still as marble, watching her. A dark lock fell over his forehead, making him look more tempting. Reaching up, she stroked his cheek and then his beard.

  His breath hitched and she grew bolder.

  “Lady Charlotte, this is very ill-advised.”

  “For whom? Do I repulse you?”

  He swallowed hard and gave a slight shake of his head. “Of course not.”

  “Then what is wrong with a simple kiss?”

  “There is nothing simple about it, my lady.”

  She stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips across his.

  “Nothing can come of this. Of us,” he said, in little more than a whisper.

  “Why not?” she asked. She slid her arms around his neck and boldly kissed him with all the years of pent up longing she held in her heart. Perhaps it would convince him she was in earnest. How could he be so wrong for her when he was the first man ever to feel right? She knew the moment he stopped resisting and kissed her back. It was every bit as wonderful as she remembered from her dreams, and more. He smelled of spice and tasted of brandy, the fire of both coursed through her body. His whiskers were rough in contrast to the warm silkiness of his lips, which caressed and devoured. For a moment, she could not think as her mind swirled with sensations.

  It was not long enough before the latch clicked and they spun about to face a room full of shocked faces.

  ***

  There were guests and servants standing in the opening, staring at them. David could only imagine what they were thinking. Lady Charlotte was dirty, dishevelled and looking thoroughly kissed, thanks to his scratchy beard.

  Yardley looked about to have an apoplectic fit. David had broken his word. The Lord knew he had tried to be honourable, but Lady Charlotte had turned into a vixen no flesh and bone man could have resisted. Wellington could have used her skill to torture their prisoners!

  “Everyone out,” Yardley growled.

  As the onlookers obeyed, except for the Duchess, the Duke continued to stand with his arms folded, looking furious.

  David remained quiet, not thinking explanations would help at this point. Of course, he would marry Lady Charlotte if necessary, but he did not think, even in such a situation, that the Duke would welcome such a lowly alliance.

  “You might as well come out,” he growled. “You cannot hide in there forever.”

  David handed Charlotte into the room and she took up an offensive stance against her brother immediately. “It is not what you think, Benedict.”

  “Regardless of what I may or may not think, I saw you in each other’s embrace.”

  “He rescued me! I was merely showing him my gratitude.”

  David swallowed a chuckle and took a sudden interest in his boots.

  Yardley kept his eyes narrowed, as though trying to compose himself. His wife’s hand was on his arm, as if warning him.

  “Do you not consider, Sir David, this would be the appropriate time to state your intentions towards Lady Charlotte?” the Duchess suggested.

  “Not now, Jolie,” Yardley commanded. “At least Prescott and Davenport have left.”

  “I do not think any such declaration would be welcome or accepted by your husband, your Grace—even if Lady Charlotte were to accept. I am too far beneath her touch not to be considered guilty of lowering her reputation further.”

  “Enough! We can discuss my reputation later. There are more important matters, are there not, Sir David?” Charlotte looked to him to explain.

  “Indeed. Lady Charlotte has stumbled upon what we were looking for. Behind this wall is a room full of guns.”

  “Behind this wall?” the Duchess asked.

  “How did you find it? Why were you even searching?” Yardley asked his sister.

  “It was pure accident,” she confessed. “I broke the sconce on the wa
ll, and the fireplace turned beneath my feet. I had no light or way to escape.” She shuddered visibly.

  “I came in here to seek this very thing,” David said, “when I heard her singing behind the wall. She told me where to look and I began removing books until I found the right one.”

  “That much I surmised. It is how we knew where to look,” Yardley replied dryly. He indicated the pile of books and overturned chair. “Did you not have the sense not to repeat her mistake?”

  Lady Charlotte spoke. “That was my fault. He lodged a chair to hold the wall open, but I tripped over it and locked us in again. Then we heard people trying to break into the tunnel, talking about disposing of anyone who got in their way, and I quite lost my mind,” she rambled.

  The Duchess hurried over and took Charlotte in her arms. “You poor dear. How afraid you must have been! Should we send someone after the intruders, Benedict?”

  “Why do you not see her to her chamber while I hear the rest of the story? We will send someone if need be,” Yardley said to his wife. The ladies retreated, though Lady Charlotte gave a warning glare to her brother that almost made David laugh aloud. He did not, however, for the Duke cleared his throat in an ominous fashion.

  “Would you rather tell me or show me what is behind that wall? And, more importantly, who were the men who have been using my name and property, seeming at their leisure, to arm our enemies?”

  David gestured with his hands towards a pair of armchairs. “I think discussion is our better course at this juncture.” He knew Yardley’s ire was genuine. Any doubts he had about his involvement were gone. “With your sister present, I did not dare attempt to look. Dunn was one of them. The other sounded like a gentleman, whose voice I did not recognize.”

  “So, it is possible the gentleman was Reverend Howard?”

  “It is.”

  “Were you able to overhear anything useful?”

  “Not as much as I would have liked, though they did confirm that all of the arms are stored here and the ammunition is not.”

  In evident frustration, Yardley ran his hands over his face and through his hair. “What do you suggest we do?”