Edward stormed out of the room.
"Damn!" said Oliver, walking over to the fireplace and resting his arm along the mantelpiece. Why had everything become so complicated? Not only did he have his feelings for Susannah to wrestle with, but he had another mission to finish planning, and now, to make matters worse, he had a split with Edward to worry about. Edward was as strong willed as he was, and on this subject neither of them was going to concede.
As if his present difficulties were not enough, his past had also begun to surface. Only now, when it did so, did he realize how deeply his experiences with Angeline had horrified him, and how they had hardened him to women. He had had enjoyable flirtations and a string of willing mistresses since leaving Eton, but Angeline was the only woman he had ever seriously thought of marrying, until he had discovered her true nature. And then it had set him against the whole idea, not only of marrying Angeline, but of marrying anyone. The thought that he might give his name to a woman and then discover her to be a monster had haunted him, but he had only realized it now.
And yet somehow, today, something had changed. He no longer saw Angeline as a representative of her sex, but as an individual — an extremely unpleasant individual. The look of compassion he had seen on Susannah's face when he had taken her into the bedroom had wiped the slate clean. He felt himself beginning to emerge from a darkness that he had not even known had gripped him, and walk into the light. The world opened out ahead of him and he saw a future again. Not as a collection of bitter battles as he tried to wrest men, women and children from the jaws of the guillotine, but as an undiscovered country full of promise. The reason for this rebirth was not hard to find: it was Susannah. She stirred him deeply, and not just his body, but his soul.
In Susannah he had met a woman with whom he could share his life, from the dark troubles of his efforts to rescue those in difficulties from France, to an afternoon's ride on the cliffs, and intermingled with his liking and respect for her ran a deep sense of unity and an almost overwhelming attraction. He could not believe that when he had first seen her he had thought her plain. She was anything but plain. Her eyes were singularly expressive, and were a gateway to the unique person beneath. But he had no business asking her to marry him, as he wanted to. His life was too uncertain. He embarked regularly on trips to France, and any one of them could end with his death. He could not ask her to marry a man who might well leave her a widow before many more months were out.
Hard as it was, he must face reality and allow her to go to London and forget him. He knew that she was attracted to him, and that they had a bond which allowed them to share their innermost thoughts and feelings. But once away from him, in varied society, she would have a chance to meet someone else she could fall in love with. She was young, and just embarking on life. She would have plenty of opportunities to meet and marry a man whose life was not so dangerous. The thought of her as the wife of another man hurt him, but he was no stranger to pain, and for Susannah's sake, he would have to learn to live with it.
CHAPTER NINE
Now that she knew her house was being used to rescue the French, Susannah wanted to do everything she could to help. She knew that Oliver and his friends would find it difficult to spare time to watch over Buvoir if they were planning another trip to France, and so she picked up her book of engravings and went upstairs. She scratched lightly at the injured man's door. It was opened cautiously by Kelsey.
"I have come to offer you my assistance," she said. "If you wish, I can sit with Buvoir until lunchtime."
Kelsey nodded briefly. He was a man of few words, and telling Susannah he would return shortly before twelve o'clock, he left the room.
Susannah went over to the bed. Buvoir was sleeping more peacefully than he had done the day before and his skin had lost its unhealthy colour. She felt his forehead. It was cool. Having satisfied herself that he was comfortable, she sat on a chair beside the bed and occupied herself by studying her book. He did not stir, and the morning passed quietly. Kelsey returned as promised, and she went down into the kitchen to help Constance prepare the lunch. Having enjoyed a cold collation they repaired to the sitting-room.
The weather was poor, with dreary grey skies, and Susannah had no wish to go out, so she and Constance amused themselves by drawing up an itinerary for their visit to London. They were just adding theatre to the list when there was a loud rap at the front door. They turned and looked at each other in surprise. Since their arrival at Harstairs House, the only visitor had been Jim, the milk boy.
"Who can that be?" said Constance.
"I don't know," said Susannah. "It must be Mr. Sinders, I suppose. He is the only person who knows we are here."
"Unless it is someone to see the gentlemen," Constance said. "They might have acquaintances in the neighbourhood."
Susannah thought this was unlikely, but did not say so.
"We had better answer it," she said. "I'll go."
"I'll come with you," said Constance. "This is a lonely spot, and it could be cut-throats."
Together the two of them went out into the hall, only to find that James and Edward were already there. Edward was opening the door and, as she saw who was standing on the other side of it, Susannah's heart missed a beat. There was no mistaking the distinctive red coats and the powdered wig of the captain, and behind him were seven more members of the militia.
"Good afternoon," said the captain, politely touching his hat. "My name is Captain Johnson. I wonder if I might come in and have a word with you?"
Edward stood aside reluctantly and let him enter. His men followed him, each carrying a musket.
"I didn't know there were any ladies here," said the captain, stopping short and lifting his eyebrows as he saw Susannah and Constance.
"This is Miss Thorpe, the new owner of Harstairs House. She inherited it on the death of Mr. Harstairs, and has kindly allowed us to stay until our lease expires," Edward said.
"That must be inconvenient for you, ma'am, is it not?" the captain enquired.
There was something behind the politeness of his words that Susannah did not trust. Why was he there? Had he found out that Oliver lived there, and did he suspect him of aiding French prisoners? Was he hoping to claim the reward by arresting Oliver and taking him to Duchamp? Would he dare do such a thing?
Outwardly, he seemed to be a gentleman. He was tall and well made, and his cream breeches and waistcoat were set off by long black boots and his scarlet coat. A wine-coloured sash was slung across his chest and the whole was enlivened by strips of gold. He wore a sword hung at his side, and his white-gloved hand rested on the hilt. Inwardly, he could be a Jacobin.
"Not at all," she said, answering his question. "The gentlemen have been most courteous. They are good company for my companion and I, and we feel the safer for having them here. Besides, it is useful to have someone to help us carry the coal and chop the wood. But won't you come into the sitting room, Captain? It's cold in the hall."
"Thank you kindly, ma'am. I will."
Susannah had been hoping that the rest of the militia would wait outside, but they followed him in and stood against the wall next to the door. They were not blocking it, but it would be impossible for her to leave unless they allowed it. She settled herself on the sofa and arranged her skirts around her. Constance sat beside her, and James and Edward took the wing chairs.
"Won't you take a seat?" she said to the captain.
"Thank you, ma'am, but not when I'm on duty. I prefer to stand."
"As you wish, Captain. Now, what can I do for you?"
"It's not actually you I've come to see, ma'am, though I remember hearing something about Mr. Harstairs dying and leaving his house to a… niece?"
Susannah let it stand and waited for him to continue.
He scanned the assembled faces, letting his gaze rove quickly over Constance and then move more slowly over James and Edward.
"It's Mr. Bristow I've come to see. But it seems he isn't here." He made i
t sound like an accusation. "Now I wonder where he might be?"
"He's seeing to the horses," said Edward.
"Is he, now? Then you won't mind if I send one of my men to find him. Norton is very good with horses. He'll be able to help."
"I'm sure he'll be glad of the assistance. Rubbing them down is slow work at this time of year," said Edward evenly.
"They do seem to take for ever to dry," said the captain good-naturedly. "Norton-" he commanded.
But before he could say anything more, the door opened, and all eyes turned to Oliver.
"That won't be necessary," Oliver said. "They've been seen to, although thank you kindly for the offer, Captain. All they need now is rest."
"Ah, Mr. Bristow. You have sharp ears, sir. I am glad your horses have been dealt with, because you are just the person I wanted to see."
Oliver crossed the room and sat down negligently, crossing one booted leg over the other.
"Here I am. What can I do for you gentlemen?"
"I'm here on an unpleasant task," said the captain with a frown, "and I regret it, but duty must be done."
He didn't sound as though he regretted it at all, thought Susannah. He sounded as though he relished it.
"Oliver Bristow, I have come to arrest you."
Edward and James exchanged glances, but Oliver remained calm.
"On what charge?" he asked.
"On a charge of smuggling."
"Smuggling? Aren't you out of your jurisdiction, Captain?" asked Oliver, his eyes steely. "Smuggling is dealt with by the excise men."
"We've been drafted in to help them. Loss of revenue is a serious matter, and the crown is concerned it is on the increase."
"And just what am I supposed to have smuggled, Captain?"
"The usual things, Mr. Bristow. Brandy and the like."
Oliver shook his head.
"I'm no smuggler," he said.
"Really? A cargo of illicit goods was brought into this country on 20th November, and one of the smugglers was recognized. It was you, sir. We have an eye-witness, placing you at the scene," said the captain.
Susannah felt her heart begin to beat faster. If the captain took Oliver into custody, there was no knowing what would happen to him. He had already been badly beaten by members of the militia as they had tried to capture him. He could be beaten again, or worse. He could be shot whilst trying to escape. She could not let that happen.
"The twentieth?" she asked. "No, that isn't possible."
She spoke pleasantly, smiling at the captain as though they were discussing nothing more important than the weather, but her heart was now thudding in her chest.
"No?" asked the captain, turning towards her.
"No. Mr. Bristow cannot have been smuggling anything then, Captain. He was with me."
"Was he now?" The captain looked at her shrewdly. "All day?"
"All day," said Susannah firmly.
"Well, now, that's very interesting, Miss Thorpe, but how about all night? Smuggled goods aren't brought ashore in daylight. They're landed under cover of darkness."
Susannah berated herself for having overlooked something so simple.
"The incident took place at three o'clock in the morning," went on Captain Johnson, well pleased with himself. "I don't suppose you were with him at that time of night, now, were you, Miss Thorpe?" He laughed jovially, and smiled at his men, including them in the joke.
But Susannah was not to be bested. She looked the captain straight in the eye and said, "Yes, Captain. I was."
"You were?"
"Yes."
There was a stunned silence. It was like a tableau, thought Susannah, as her eyes travelled round the room. She had seen one once, at Christmas time, when she had been a little girl living with her father. Some of his friends had dressed themselves in clothes from the dressing up box and had arranged themselves into silent groups portraying words and phrases.
This could be shock, thought Susannah. Constance's mouth had dropped open, her eyes had widened, and her hand had flown to her chest. James had turned to Edward, and Edward had turned to the militia. The militia had frozen in attitudes of frustration, whilst the captain's eyebrows had risen.
And Oliver… Oliver had not frozen. Like a real man of flesh and blood in an assemblage of waxwork figures, he was striding across the room towards her with a smile on his face.
What is he doing? she wondered.
When he reached her, he took one of her hands in his own. Sliding his free arm round her waist, he looked down into her eyes, and said, "Sweetheart, there was no need to do that." Then, turning to the others, who looked, if possible, even more surprised than before, he said, "You must be the first to congratulate us, gentlemen, Miss Morton. We were not intending to announce our engagement so soon… Mr. Harstairs's death, you understand… but Miss Thorpe has done me the inestimable honour of agreeing to become my wife."
It was Susannah's turn to be amazed. She turned towards him, eyes wide, but a squeeze on her hand reminded her of their danger, so instead of asking him what he meant by it, she smiled, and looked self-conscious, which was not a hard thing to do as she felt that if everyone stared at her for another minute she would sink into the floor.
"Well," said the captain, breaking the silence, "so you are betrothed."
"That's right," said Oliver.
"This is rather sudden, is it not?" asked the captain.
Oliver's smile widened. "Perhaps, but what could we do? It was love at first sight."
The captain looked as though he would like to curse. Instead he turned to Susannah.
"And you are ready to swear that Mr. Bristow was with you on the night of twentieth November, ma'am?"
"I am," said Susannah. "I don't know who your informant saw, but it wasn't my fiancé."
"Apparently not." There was something in the captain's shrewd glance that unnerved Susannah, but he did not argue. Instead, he said, "In that case, I won't trouble you any further. Thank you for your time, gentlemen, ladies." He touched his hat. "Good day."
"Good day," said Susannah, inclining her head.
"I'll show you out," said Oliver.
He waved his arm towards the door, and the militia left the room, with Oliver behind them.
"If you will excuse us, we have business to attend to," said Edward, making the ladies a bow before he and James, too, withdrew.
"Well!" said Constance, clasping her hands together, and turning to Susannah with a smile on her face. "I was never more delighted in my life! I always hoped… such a handsome man… but I never guessed… it was all so sudden… but as Mr. Bristow said, love at first sight! Oh, congratulations, Susannah, I'm sure you'll be very happy."
Susannah did not like to deceive Constance, but she could not go back on what she had said without revealing everything, and that would be unwise. So she resigned herself to feeling uncomfortable.
"You need not fear that I will ever mention…" began Constance, then trailed away delicately. "My lips are sealed."
"Thank you."
"But you look tired. And no wonder. Those dreadful men, bursting in here with their wicked allegations, and then being forced to reveal… not that I blame you," she said, going pink. "It was most courageous. I will make a dish of tea."
She bustled out of the room, leaving Susannah to sink in a chair. She didn't know what had come over her. She had acted on the spur of the moment, fearing that if Oliver was arrested he might be shot, but she had never expected things to spin so far out of control.
Oliver soon strode back into the room.
Before he could speak, she said, "Why did you tell them we were betrothed?"
"I had to do what I could to save your reputation. I couldn't let you suffer in order to help me. But more importantly, why did you tell them you were with me on the twentieth?"
"Because I couldn't let them take you away," she said. "They have already beaten you once. Who knows what they would do if they had you in their power again?"
> He sat down beside her and took her hands. "It was a very brave thing to do."
She felt his fingers warm against her own. "It was nothing," she said.
"No, it was something. A big something, and I'm grateful for it."
Grateful She felt her spirits sink. She had not spoken in order to receive his gratitude. Gratitude was such a cold emotion, and her own emotions for him were blazing hot. But she could not let him know it.
"As I am… grateful to you for protecting my reputation," she returned.
"You mustn't be afraid that I'll hold you to the engagement. Once you go to London you won't need it any longer, as no one there will know about the night we supposedly spent together, and you can lay the blame on me when you tell Constance it's over. I won't contradict you."
Her spirits sank still further, although why that should be she did not know. He was doing everything in his power to help her.
"Thank you," she said.
"As for your neighbours here, they're unlikely to hear of it. I doubt if the captain is on visiting terms with the local gentry, and if he mentions it, once they know your engagement is over, they'll quickly forget about it."
"Because I'm an heiress?"
"It's the way of the world. Your neighbours will be busy trying to catch you for their sons. They won't want to blacken the reputation of a young lady who might become their daughter-in-law."
"It would be easier if the Captain did not mention it," said Susannah. "It's difficult enough with Constance thinking we are betrothed. I'm afraid she's likely to congratulate you."
"I can bear it," he said lightly.
"And what of your friends? What will they think?"
He pushed back a tendril of her hair. "That I am a very lucky man."
She stood up. It was exactly what she would have wanted him to say if their betrothal had been real. It would have delighted her. But it was not real. She walked over to the table, pretending to make it ready for Constance.
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