Moon and Stars

by Elizabeth Johns

  “Would you like to do the honours?” She held the cloak, which was made of oilcloth, out to Sir David.

  He shook his head. “You are more familiar with the pockets in your own garments, my lady.”

  “Very well.” She began searching through each opening in the cloak, but all were empty. “This is where I hid the gun,” she demonstrated the hidden compartment within the breast, “which explains how it stayed dry in the water.”

  “What are you looking for, my lady?” Chapman asked.

  “We do not know. Did you remove anything from the pockets of the cloak or gown while at Langborn?” Charlotte asked the maid.

  “No, my lady. Nothing at all.”

  “It would have been too easy,” Charlotte mused, trying to hide her disappointment. “We think the butcher, Mr. Dunn, was the one behind rummaging through my cabin. He was the leader of the smuggling gang, as you no doubt already know.”

  “I think everyone knew that, my lady. Cook was right put about when she heard he had died. You think he is still alive?”

  “It is possible, though we have not seen him. Why was Cook upset?”

  “Why, he is her brother. You did not know?”

  Charlotte shook her head in disbelief. “It is a wonder I was not poisoned.”

  Harris hastened off down the companionway without a word.

  “Dunn probably bullied her when the house was empty or helped himself through the secret passage.” David paced the small area of deck in front of her.

  “Why would he wait until now?” Charlotte questioned.

  “Desperation. We foiled his money-making scheme.” David answered.

  “If only I knew what he hoped to find, I would gladly part with it to be rid of the fear of not knowing what comes next.”

  “Thank you, Chapman. That will be all.”

  Harris returned, pulling a reluctant cook up the companionway. As he halted before them, he continued to hold the woman’s arm.

  Charlotte gasped. “I cannot believe it! Would you care to explain your part in all of this?”

  Cook shook her head and began to sob. “I had no idea what ’e was planning. Honest! ’E said ’e wished to make a new life somewhere, so I let him stow in me little berth. But ’e is gone now. ’E jumped ship last night.”

  “And before, at Langborn?”

  A guilty look passed over the cook’s face.

  “Sending me for a ham was a code, was it not?” David asked.

  She nodded. “But ’e wasn’t gonna hurt nobody. I just let ’im know iffin guests arrived.”

  “Take her away,” David said to Harris. “We will have to deal with her when we land.”

  “I’m right sorry, my lady. I didn’t know ’e was gonna ’urt ye.”

  Charlotte could not look at the snivelling woman, she was so disgusted.

  “Do not fret, my dear. We will come about. There may not be anything to find, anyway. Dunn might be imagining the whole.”

  Charlotte nodded, but could not help but feel she held the missing link.

  David sat carving another creature—a fish—not one of his more original creations, but it helped pass the time. He often did his best thinking when he was working with his hands, allowing his mind time to settle and reflect on the problem. Trying to consider all the facts, he attempted to throw light on the puzzle.

  Captain Dunn was the long-time leader of the Rottingdean gang. His sister was the Langborn cook and his source of information. Was she complicit, though?

  Colonel Prescott had been the apparent mastermind and insider in the Home Office which allowed him to have foreign connections and influence the number of Revenue men.

  The Reverend Howard was new to the area and his family was the most likely source of the arms being exported.

  So what—or who—was the link between the three? Was there a link?

  How he wished he had Yardley’s connections here to look into some possibilities, but it would take weeks, if not months, for a message to be sent and returned to him. By then, it might be too late—especially if Dunn was still trailing them.

  They had passed through the Strait of Gibraltar and were on the open seas heading towards Malta.

  “Why the furrowed brow?” Harris called from his perch behind the wheel.

  “I am trying to piece together the mystery.”

  “Any success?” He looked down over the railing to where David leaned against the ship’s side amidst the decks being swabbed to the refrain of jaunty sea shanties.

  “Nay. I am convinced there is a link between Dunn, Prescott and Howard we have yet to discover.” He blew some shavings off into the water before looking up at Harris.

  “Ship approaching full sail about four knots to the west, Cap’n!” one of the sailors called out. All of the deck-hands immediately jumped to their feet and took up stations around the ship, awaiting orders.

  Harris took the spy-glass and placed it against his eye.

  David watched with anticipation and wariness. He was a fish out of water if they were attacked at sea. Was Dunn bold enough to give chase in broad daylight? And would he have the means to do so? David thought it very unlikely and held up his hand as a shield, squinting against the sun in an attempt to spot the vessel. To the untrained eye, it was easy to imagine every wave was a sail or bow... until it appeared from nowhere, sails at full mast, giving chase.

  Once it was close enough to see, Harris put the glass back to his eye. “It appears to be a British cargo ship,” he said, squinting. “By Jove! It is a Davenport ship, signalling to board!”

  Harris handed him the glass and ran up to give orders to allow the ship to come alongside and prepare to be boarded.

  David had never looked through one of these. It magnified everything, and it was unsteadying at first. He scanned back and forth, seeing nothing but water. He looked away to get his bearings and tried again before placing it to his eye, only to jump back when he met with a giant-sized image of Yardley’s face, directly in front of him. He tried again, slowly moving the glass to each side.

  Scanning the crowd along the railing of the approaching ship, he could discern Cavenray and his Duchess, Yardley and his Duchess, and Letty. Had the entire clan come?

  “What on earth are they doing? If they were following to join us on holiday, they would not be racing at such speeds after us,” Harris remarked.

  “Why did they bring the entire extended family?” David pondered out loud.

  “I expect we will find out soon enough,” he said, waving as they came closer and into view.

  As the crew began to scurry about, furling sails and running up the rigging, Charlotte joined them on the deck. “What is happening? Oh! What are they doing here?”

  “I think we are about to find out,” David answered as the ships dropped anchor alongside each other and the crews held steady the gangway linking the two ships together.

  Yardley crossed first and then handed down his Duchess.

  “Charlotte! I am relieved to see you unharmed,” the Duke said as he embraced his sister.

  Everyone else joined them aboard The Wind and made their greetings. David could tell Charlotte was in shock as her face scanned from one to the other.

  “Would you care to explain why you thought to find me injured?” Charlotte asked.

  “We had planned to follow you in anticipation of a happy event.” He coughed to hide his smile. “As to how we managed to catch up with you so quickly, that is another matter. We had arranged to have the younger Captain Harris pick us up at Langborn and proceed at a leisurely pace to Malta once his commission was resigned from the navy. However, when we reached Langborn, we found the place broken into and ransacked. We had given the servants time off, since none of us were in residence, so we do not know precisely when it happened.”

  Charlotte said nothing, and watched as her brother finished telling the story.

  “The areas which had been torn apart were your chambers, your parlour, and the library.”


  “All the places where I spent my time,” she remarked with remarkable composure.

  “Which is why we were concerned for your safety, and Davenport was able to provide us with passage immediately. It is too much of a coincidence to assume it was not related to the unfortunate business with Prescott.”

  “Indeed,” David agreed. “Her cabin here was also ransacked last night.”

  “How did they catch you so swiftly? You must have been followed for some time.” Yardley began to pace, his hands behind his back, as everyone else stood and watched with looks of intense concentration on their faces.

  “Dunn stowed away in his sister’s berth,” David explained, “but has since jumped ship, according to your cook.”

  “Dunn is alive?” Yardley looked stunned and the others were also exclaiming their shock.

  “Indeed. None of us saw him, but your cook confirmed he was on board.”

  “I sent Cook along as a boon to cheer Charlotte. You mean to tell me she aided her brother in these schemes?”

  “She did not seem to be fully aware of what he had done. She is in the hold until we decide what to do with her.” David removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow.

  “What can they want from me?” Charlotte spoke up for the first time in a few minutes.

  “I have been going over everything, trying to come to that conclusion,” David answered.

  “I do not know anything! I do not have anything!” she exclaimed with disbelief.

  “We now know that Dunn did not die on the yacht that night,” Harris said.

  “I cannot help but feel there is some connection we are missing between Howard, Prescott and Dunn.”

  “Is there anything more to be discovered from Cook?” Yardley asked.

  “We have exhausted her knowledge, which was minimal.”

  “Let me fetch my reports on them, and perhaps, if we employ all of our minds, we might piece it together.” The Duke left to find the papers, and Jolie, Maili and Cavenray also left to oversee the transference of their belongings to The Wind. The rest of them removed to the Captain’s dining room, a luxuriously appointed cabin with mahogany panelling and dark green paint. Maps and paintings adorned the walls. The centre of the room held a long wooden table where they sat and waited for him to return.

  “You knew Prescott from school, correct?” David asked when they were all seated and Yardley was back with his reports.

  Yardley nodded. “As well as Davenport. It is still difficult to believe Prescott was a traitor,” Yardley said through clenched teeth.

  “Was there anything about him that was unusual? Anything about his family?”

  David could see the Duke concentrating. “I never went home with him on a holiday. Perhaps Davenport will be able to tell you more. I cannot recall ever having met his family. One assumes certain things about anyone they are at public school with, you know.”

  David did know the nobility often assumed all were wealthy. He and Cavenray had been at school together. Being one who was lesser in status, he had always been jealous of those like Cavenray and Yardley who were heirs to great titles and estates. He was not surprised that Yardley had been oblivious to such things as a youth.

  “Where is Davenport?” David asked. “I assume he is with you?”

  “He is still on the other ship, making arrangements. This was not their usual route and we will need to transfer our possessions so they can continue with their course. I will see if he can come and assist us,” Letty answered before leaving the dining room.

  “Did anything from your records indicate an association between the three men? Do you know aught of Prescott’s army record?”

  Yardley began perusing his agent’s notes. “There has to be something to link these men.”

  “Could Dunn also have been in the army at some point? Many men served, especially during the time of Napoleon. It was not so long ago.”

  “Fairmont or Wyndham would know, if they were here,” the Duke muttered.

  David watched Yardley attempting to read through pages and pages of documents before him.

  “I should have read through these sooner. I merely accepted my agent’s word that there was no connection. We stopped looking when we thought Prescott and Dunn were both dead. Then, my only thought was for Charlotte’s safety.”

  “May I look through one of the files while you search the others?” David asked.

  “An excellent notion.” Yardley handed him Howard’s file.

  The men read in silence while Charlotte took the third file and also began to read.

  “Howard was in the army before he became a man of the cloth!” Charlotte exclaimed.

  “Does it say why he left the army?” David asked, frowning.

  “No, but it does say he was in the 30th Regiment of Foot and he sold out in 1813.”

  “Before Waterloo. Is there anything in Dunn’s record about having served in the army?” Yardley asked.

  “Let me look back that far. He has quite a record of smuggling in here,” David remarked.

  “Prescott had been at the Home Office for the past decade. There is no note of his Regiment in here,” Yardley stated while David continued to search.

  Letty returned with Davenport and they quickly told him what they knew. “Prescott was an orphan, a charity student—some pet project of an old dowager. I am surprised you were unaware.”

  “It never mattered to me,” Yardley admitted. “Did he enter the army with a commission?”

  “No. He earned his promotions in the field for valour.”

  “I am not surprised—he was always ambitious. Do you happen to know which Regiment he served in?”

  “He enlisted in the 30th Regiment of Foot, but he was moved when he was commissioned.”

  Charlotte gasped.

  “So Prescott and Howard were both in the same Regiment. I am willing to bet Dunn served with them.”

  “I imagine Cook can verify that,” Charlotte said.

  “But what happened to make them betray their country?”

  “Only Dunn and Howard can answer that. We may not know until we return to question him.”

  “Let us hope that is not too late.”

  Chapter 21

  I have never before considered myself a selfish being, but suddenly I wish everyone to perdition, so I can have Sir David all to myself.—18 April

  Charlotte had mixed emotions about everyone joining them. She had been enjoying her time alone with David and was afraid that something would happen to end the fairy tale. It had been several days since her cabin had been rummaged through, so it was easy to pretend it had never happened. She still could not imagine what Dunn could have been looking for, or if he would come back again.

  David seemed more relaxed and willing to accept his place amongst her family, though he had not been so openly affectionate since her family had arrived. It was not marked, as if he was unpleasant or rude, he was just more guarded and proper, as though they were back in Society. She hated it. It was somewhat understandable, for she would feel the same way in his position. However, it did not lessen the longing to have that freedom back. Letty and Davenport showed obvious warmth for each other, and they all expected an announcement any day.

  They reached Malta on the tenth day of travel without any further incident. The waters were as beautiful as her mother had described, and they could see clear to the sea floor when they sailed close to the shore. There was an imposing, white stone fort and cathedral standing guard over the island, its wall and high towers proclaiming a grand fortress. The entire city was built of the same white rock, and the island was surrounded by the same jagged stone. It felt not of this world.

  There was no doubt in Charlotte’s mind her mother would be surprised by her visitors. There had not been time to send word and they would see how far her new husband’s hospitality stretched. It should not be difficult to find the Villa Pieta in a town of this size. The crew prepared to drop anchor and release the small din
ghy boats to row them to the dock. From there, some chairs and donkey carts were hired—there were, of course, no grand carriages awaiting their arrival.

  Dusty, pebbled streets were lined with open markets full of fresh fruits, vegetables and flowers, and vendors advertising their goods in English as well as another language. Strange music filled the air as minstrels played on various corners, hoping for a coin as reward. Animals and children ran amok between the patrons, and exotic smells wafted to their noses. The local villagers watched their parade through the town with keen interest and perhaps amusement, as it could well have appeared more like a gypsy caravan than the processional of dukes and duchesses that it was.

  Yardley was the first to enter the gates to the Villa and lead the way up a steep stone driveway lined with olive trees. Charlotte had time to take in her surroundings as they waited at a large wooden door for admittance. The house was built of white limestone with a red tile roof and an ornamental balustrade. Boxes of bright pink flowers hung from every window sill, framed by wooden shutters, and a green flowering vine crept up the walls to complete the enchanting picture. A warm breeze from the sea gave relief to the hot afternoon sun. It was not long before her mother bestirred herself and came through the front door to greet them under the portico. A handsome gentleman, somewhat on the portly side with dark hair greying around his temples, followed her. He had deep laughter lines around his eyes and the sides of his mouth, his true character revealed by the twinkle in his eyes. Charlotte loved him on sight.

  “You must be my new step-papa, Lord Mompalao-Marquis di Taflia,” she said, stepping forward to receive a kiss on each cheek.

  He then took her hands and kissed them regally. “Please call me, Vittor. It is much easier on the mouth, no? And you are my new daughter, Charlotte. You are every bit as beautiful as your mama said you were.”

  David was nearby, but he did not step forward to touch her or introduce himself or make claim to her in any way.

  “And who is this handsome fellow? He is your beau, yes?”