Moon and Stars

by Elizabeth Johns

  Her main problem was that she did not know where the entrance to the tunnel was located. What would she do if she found someone? Halting in her tracks, she began to reconsider her hasty dive into detection... but what if she saw or overheard something that would allow Sir David to be pardoned?

  Stepping slowly forward through the garden as she considered, the decision was made for her. A man was entering a wooden service door behind the conservatory and she followed him. Was it Sir David? It was too dark to make out any features, but he was tall like him. If she could, she had to help him.

  Charlotte waited a few minutes and then slipped through the door in the man’s wake. The dirty, musty scent of the damp underground assailed her nose. Immediately, there was a set of steps leading downward into the earth. She eased the door slowly closed behind her before stopping to allow her eyes to adjust.

  “Perhaps it is not the wisest choice to enter a dark room without a lantern,” she muttered dryly, pulling her cloak tighter as she lowered her foot slowly, one step and then the next. “Did I learn nothing from last time?” On this occasion not to be deterred by thoughts of spiders and rodents, she stepped gingerly, one foot in front of the other, feeling more and more like a coward than one of her heroines. She had to remind herself sternly that she had survived the previous night’s excursion in order to keep from running back to the house. She still did not know what would happen when she arrived. She had no clear idea of what the room at the end looked like, and she was hoping she could hide once she reached the storage chamber. At least the passage was tall and wide enough that she need not touch the sides.

  As she drew closer, she could hear sounds; not the sounds of voices but of work being done—footsteps, wheels turning and, perhaps, crates being opened and moved.

  Should she turn around and go to find her brother? What if she was too late, by that point, to discover who the culprit was? Perhaps if she went a little bit further, she might see something useful.

  There was light at the end of the tunnel when she drew closer. Careful to remain in the shadows, she followed, finding a support beam behind which she could conceal herself. She had to swallow a gasp as a man came within two feet of her, and then another. They were dressed all in black with dark caps and soot covering their faces. They were entering a room and coming out again carrying large, white oilcloth bags that strained with the weight of their load. Where could they be going?

  She followed on behind the light from their lantern—as close as she dared—when she heard their footsteps recede. They came to another tunnel which went in a different direction, but where did it lead? To the cliffs and the sea? Of course, it must do so, for where else would they be going? She had to follow them and then get the information to Benedict. It was the only way she could envisage any kind of future with Sir David.

  Her heart hammered with fright, so loudly she feared it would give her presence away. Inhaling two deep breaths, she then followed, clinging to the sides, praying she would not be discovered. Sounds of water dripping began to grow louder as a breeze and the smell of sea air grew stronger. Pausing to still her shaking knees, which she was struggling to control, she willed herself to be calm.

  Her heart in her mouth, she crept the final steps to the outside, peering around the edge; this was the moment of truth. Would there be anything beyond the mouth of the cave?

  She took a sideways step and strained to see. It was pitch black at first, although, as her eyes adjusted, she saw a small reflection against the white cliffs. Looking up, it appeared she was in a ravine. Was this the same ravine she jumped so often at its narrowest point? Where had the men gone? Were they lying in wait to grab her?

  The tide was out, and she stepped down a rock-strewn slope on to the beach, taking care to hold on to the cliff face so as not to slip and be discovered. There was still no sign of the smugglers, so she ventured further and looked around a promontory of the cliffs. Were they already gone? Had she been too late?

  Scrambling along the face, she found a deeply shadowed crevice to hide in. Straining her eyes to see in the darkness, she finally glimpsed men digging in the sand where the tide had receded from the beach. They were burying the bags they had carried out of the store-room. She heard the scuffle of feet just short of her hiding place and had to smother an involuntary squeak. Two voices began to speak. Although her body was shaking with terror, she strived to listen to the conversation.

  * * *

  “We are almost finished, sir. This will be a sweet reward.”

  “Indeed. It will revolutionize warfare. To think of self-contained cartridges fashioned from paper.”

  “Stuff it down the barrel, put on a new percussion cap and it’s ready to fire,” the other man added with excitement.

  “And it is all safe on the ship?”

  “Aye, sir. We will come back for the munitions on the next low tide.”

  “The cartridges are the most urgent business for now. It is better to be cautious with the rest.”

  * * *

  Deciding she had seen and heard enough, Charlotte began to back away towards the ravine and relative safety. Without warning, an arm came around her neck.

  “Stop right there, my lady.” She knew that voice.

  “Let me go!” she commanded, struggling to wrench free of the arm encircling her. Clutching wildly, she managed to rip his neckcloth.

  “I am afraid you have seen too much. You should have stayed abed, like good ladies do,” he growled in her ear.

  “What are you going to do with me?” She swallowed hard.

  “Make your death appear an unfortunate accident.”

  He could not mean it! She twisted in an attempt to break free of his grasp. His arm tightened and tortured gasps of air gagged her. Desperation aiding her dwindling courage, she bit his restraining hand and her anguished cry for help rent through the air.

  Once David had decided he needed to ensure Charlotte’s safety, he began to feel urgent—almost frantic. By the time he reached the house, it was shrouded in darkness and the front door was locked. Was he worrying for nothing? Were they all abed and none the wiser of the criminal activity taking place beneath their noses?

  He walked stealthily around to the servant’s entrance, just to satisfy himself. The door was open and he found the kitchens were dark. Something was off, but it did not mean anything untoward had happened. He lit a taper and crept up the back stairs just to see if he could determine if Lady Charlotte was safely tucked in her bed, but when he reached the family apartments, all of the doors were opened and the rooms empty. He rushed down the main stairs and into the library. Silence. Darkness. He ran back down to the kitchens and knocked on the housekeeper’s door. When there was no answer, he flung it open to discover the room was also empty. There was no one in the house!

  Rushing back to the stables, he roused everyone and sent a groom to fetch Yardley from the gardener’s cottage. Why had he not suspected they would move sooner? Where was Lady Charlotte? He would forfeit his pardon and everything he owned to ensure her safety. He should have insisted that Yardley send everyone to London!

  He took a lantern and ran to the tunnel entrance. The door was unlocked. It did not mean that Charlotte was in there, of course. He pressed forward blindly; his presence could be explained away. He stopped at the door leading to the entrance of the storage chamber behind the library and the lock was undone. He pulled open the door and held his lantern high, scanning the vault for any sign of Charlotte or the smugglers. The room was empty. They had moved quickly.

  Muttering an oath of frustration, he began to move through the chamber. Then he heard what sounded like a cry for help. He lifted the lantern and scanned the room again. In the far corner, he found several people tied up and gagged. He took out his knife and released each of Langborn’s servants, one by one.

  “Where is Lady Charlotte? Have they taken her somewhere?”

  “We don’t rightly know, sir. She was not home when they came in and took us.�
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  “Is there a chance she stayed at Wyndham?”

  “We don’t know that either, sir,” the old butler answered, clearly shaken.

  “Everyone go back inside the house and warm yourselves. Be prepared for anything. I sent one of the grooms for the Duke. When he arrives, tell him I am going through the tunnel into the ravine, looking for Lady Charlotte.”

  With having lost precious moments, David hurried through the passageway, hoping and praying that Lady Charlotte had stayed at Wyndham Court. Something inside told him they were not so fortunate.

  As he reached the opening to the ravine and crept towards the beach, he looked down as cold water began to pour over his boots. The tide was coming back in! Heedless of the loose footing, he ran down the slope to the beach, only to catch a glimpse of the workers loading up the rowing boats he had seen earlier. Where could she be? His eyes searched furiously, trying to discern if there was a lady amongst the men. What would he do in this situation if he were Captain Dunn? He would never have bothered the people in the house.

  What an ugly thought to have. He never could have harmed a lady, no matter how dire the circumstances. But Dunn was cut from a different cloth and he suspected they would hesitate no more than a moment because she was the sister of a Duke. They would try to make her murder look like an accident.

  “In all probability she is tucked up in a warm, comfortable bed at Wyndham,” he muttered, trying to reassure himself.

  “But what if Dunn has her?” He could not wait here to find out. He lifted his gaze and squinted through the swirling fog, with a growing sense of desperation. Some of the boats were already on their way out into deeper waters, the men bent to the oars and the hulls slipping back and forth through the waves.

  That was when he saw her struggling against someone. Only fifteen yards ahead, the water was rising and it appeared she was being dragged out farther. She would be no match for any of them—if the waves or her heavy skirts did not carry her under first.

  David pulled his gun out and kept moving forward, the waves lapping at his boots as he wound around the rocky outcrops of the cliffs. He was still too far to take a shot without risking hitting Lady Charlotte. He lost them for a moment as a patch of fog floated by and he focused his gaze and strained his ears to find them.

  “Ouch, you little witch!” The man yelped. She must have kicked his shin.

  “Good girl, keep fighting,” David mumbled to himself as he crept closer through the water. The tide was rushing in quickly; it already reached his knees...

  The man tried to push her under the water and David could not wait any longer to act.

  A yacht had crept in through the fog, and someone yelled. “Hurry, sir! The Nelson is coming in from the east!”

  David would swear that was Dunn calling from the boat. So who had Charlotte?

  Making an instant decision, David acted. “Let her go! Do you really want the Duke to be after you?”

  “It is too late for that. She has seen everything!” David recognized the voice but could not place it. It was definitely a gentleman, not Dunn.

  “What do you mean to do with her?” David called. He hoped that with every moment he delayed, he would have a better chance of saving her. By voicing it out loud, he hoped that the man would reconsider hurting Charlotte.

  David crouched down into the water, aiming his gun. The yacht was creeping closer, though if it came too much further in, it would run aground.

  “Stop fighting me!” the man commanded.

  “Never!” she shouted.

  “Come now, sir, or I’ll have to leave ye,” Dunn called from the ship.

  The man turned a fraction and began to drag Charlotte towards the boat.

  David’s finger pulled on the trigger. The man released his hold on Charlotte just as she fired a shot herself. The man fell back into the water but David’s only thought was for Charlotte. Without the man holding her, the water would saturate her skirts and pull her down to a watery grave.

  As David ran to help her, the sounds of gunfire began to pop off like fireworks. Suddenly, the yacht ignited into a giant fireball. He took the gun from Charlotte’s hands, which she was still pointing at the ship. Her shaking body came willingly into his arms; lifting her, he trudged against the water towards the shore.

  “What on earth is happening?” Yardley’s voice boomed over the noise seconds before he and Davenport appeared out of the fog and waded furiously into the water to help.

  “Prescott!” Charlotte managed to shout through ragged breaths. “Retrieve him!” She lifted a shaking arm and pointed to a body floating face down in the swirling waters. It was starting to drift out to sea.

  Davenport and Yardley set off in the other direction through the water while David continued to hold a shivering Charlotte. Before them, at no great distance, The Jolie went down in a cracking, hissing, wall of flames. The girl in his arms shuddered and clutched at his shoulders. Her teeth were chattering and he held her as tight as he could.

  “Let me take you back to the house,” David said.

  “N-N-N-No.” She shook her head. “Want to wait.”

  They watched in silence as the scene played out. It was a few more minutes before Yardley and Davenport returned, dragging Prescott’s body with them.

  “It looks like we found the ammunition,” Yardley remarked, with a sad look at his yacht burning to embers.

  “And our traitor,” David replied with a disgusted scowl at Prescott’s body.

  Chapter 15

  Suddenly, smelling salts make so much sense. Would that I could waft something under the nose of a criminal and render him senseless.—18 Feb

  Charlotte had never been one to simper or be silly. So why was she so hysterical? When they finally made it back to the tunnel and were out of the water, David placed her on her feet. Her knees became weak and she almost swooned. If not for Sir David, she might have fallen. Before she realized what was happening, he swooped down and gathered her into his arms and began the quickest route back to the house through the tunnels while Yardley and Davenport dealt with Prescott’s body.

  That snapped her out of her despondency. She was no make-weight and was very conscious of it.

  “You do not need to carry me! It was just a momentary lapse, I assure you,” she proclaimed.

  “Nonsense. It is perfectly reasonable for you to be overset. You had to fight for your life for several minutes and you had not one, but two, opponents,” he said easily, not even breathing hard.

  “Two?” She tried to converse with him in a logical fashion, but speech was almost beyond her at the moment as she attempted to assimilate what had happened, along with the delightful sensation of being in David’s arms.

  “Prescott and the water. ’Tis very likely your skirts would have taken you under had he not been holding on to you,” he explained.

  “They were heavy but I had no notion of that. Thank you for saving me.” She dared to look into his eyes, but the tunnels were too dark and he was staring ahead, intent on seeing their way.

  “It appeared to me as though you saved yourself.”

  She shook her head. “No. How did you know he had caught me?”

  “I did not know for certain until I saw you. I was helping with the run at the Saltdean Gap when I saw Dunn heading east—away from the action. It was then I realized I had been sent on a diversion run and I hurried back to try and warn you. I searched the house and it was completely empty.”

  He had been smuggling? She tried to consider that thought, but dismissed it as useless.

  “That is what set me to searching. I found the servants bound and gagged and you were not with them.” His voice cracked as he recalled the scene.

  He had come for her! For her. His warm breath seared her wet skin as she shivered against him, her arms wrapped fast around his neck. They were both soaked and smelled of briny sea. Strangely, she did not find it in the least unpleasant. She snuggled closer in his arms and enjoyed the feeling of
safety and protection as her nerves began to settle.

  When they reached the house, a rush of warmth came over her. Sir David began issuing orders to the servants, who appeared shaken but clearly relieved to have somewhere to concentrate their nervous anxieties.

  Entering the back door into the kitchen, he set her down with tenderness, as though she were a fragile, breakable object to be treated with care. For some reason, he was always making her feel special when she had never known such adoration. For a brief moment their eyes met; his were the dark grey of a winter sky and stared at her with an intense emotion that seemed to mirror her own. Suddenly, her nerves were unsettled in a wholly different manner and she felt hopeful. Their bodies were still close and, of one accord, they began to lean forward.

  Then the servants bustled in with blankets and took their wet cloaks.

  “Your bath is almost ready, my lady,” Mrs. Huggins, the housekeeper, informed her.

  “Please see that more water is readied. His Grace, Sir David and Mr. Davenport were also in the cold waters for some time.” As Charlotte spoke, she recalled how all of them had suffered the freezing Channel water to save her.

  “Yes, my lady.” The housekeeper bobbed a curtsy and left.

  “That will not be necessary, Lady Charlotte. I must be away to help tidy up the details.” Sir David knelt down to help her remove her soaking, ruined boots. She was stunned at the intimacy and searched for something to say.

  “Will that complete your work here?” she finally asked warily, afraid of his answer.

  “I believe so, but only the King can answer that with certainty.”

  “I see,” she said, fearing the worst. She willed her bottom lip to stop quivering. “Will you come back?”

  He reached up and smoothed his thumb over her wobbling chin. The loving gesture ended her dignity completely. Never before had anyone showed her such consideration. Tears escaped the confines of her eyes and rolled down her face. “I promise you, it is better this way.”