Burning Bright (Brambridge Novel 2) (17 page)

He would kill Bill with his bare hands, he’d decided. Or perhaps even slowly with his knife.

Treading quickly along the smooth planks, James kept his eye on the skiff. He closed his eyes briefly as the skiff hooked onto the side of the boat. He wasn’t one to talk. Melissa hadn’t said yes either. In fact she hadn’t said anything at all when he’d asked her to marry him. She’d just stared at him with wide, blue eyes and then whirled around and had disappeared into her room.

No amount of shrieking by her mother had been able to draw her out.

James grasped on to the railing and held out a hand as the first member of the crew reached over the deck and hauled themselves onto the side.

“Merci,” the figure said, before blinking exceedingly long eyelashes in his direction. “I mean, thank you.”

Good God. More women dressed as men.

He swallowed and held out a hand again to pull up the next passenger. Mercifully it was a man.

“Bonjour,” he drawled.

“Bonjour,” said the man before swallowing. “’Ello. My name is Jean.”

“You mean John.”

“
Oui
, err, yes.”

Jean side stepped to the side of the lady with the long eyelashes. Glancing to make sure James was not looking, he patted the lady on the hand.

James shook his head.
Émigrés
. That was what Bill was smuggling. No wonder he had been so close-mouthed about what he was shipping. James should have made the connection when Ned had referred to his clientele and the sumptuously decorated blue room.

James reached out a hand for the next passenger, but received instead a large cask corked with a small stopper covered in wax. Émigrés
and
brandy. The shipment had not changed so much, then.

“No hand for me?” Bill agilely pulled himself onto the deck of the
Rocket
and took the cask from James. “
Venez avec moi,”
he said, jerking his head at the couple. They looked nervously between Bill and James. “
Ne vous inquietez pas.”
Bill put the cask carefully on its end on the deck. “
Il est mon frère.”

With a snap of his head James looked at Bill.
He is my brother
. Of course he was. Of course Bill was his brother. Why had he not seen it before? The same hair coloring, features and height? Everything but the eyes and sheer amount of muscles Bill carried were different. He opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again. Bill nodded at him, acknowledging the dawning comprehension on James’ face.

James nodded back. Good God. A brother. A male Stanton who he always trusted. James frowned. Bill was one of his suspects, he reminded himself. Turning, he looked back at the émigré.

The man’s shoulders slumped in relief. Taking the woman’s hand, he nodded at James and then turned to follow Bill to what he assumed was a cabin below.

“’Ere don’t lolly gag around, take the cask, man.” James gazed in surprise as an older man pulled himself over the size with a visible wince. James bent and picked up the cask. He hadn’t carried something of the same weight since the night he had escaped England. He had travelled light as a scout across Spain.

The older sailor gazed at him in horror. “Your Lordship. Oh dear, let me carry that.”

James shook his head. “You don’t seem in any condition to be carrying casks around.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you in those clothes. It’s been a long time. The last time I saw you I was tending a fire on Longmans Point.”

James frowned and looked again at the older man. He tilted his head towards the light, revealing a craggy face and large nose. “Tommy?”

The sailor nodded gleefully. “The same. The face might be a bit older but I’m still willing.”

“Where do you want the cask?”

“Down in the fo’csle. We don’t bother to hide it. Our key need is speed at the other end.”

James carried the heavy cask to the hatch on the deck which led to the fo’csle. Another sailor was waiting with open hands to take it. James let it go with relief, turning to see that Tommy had followed him. 

“We could have done with a bit of speed on that night a few years ago.”

Tommy nodded. “Bad business that. Never believed you’d done it.”

James frowned. “You were up by the fire that night. The officer was found below there. Did you see anything?”

“No.” The old sailor frowned. “I put the fire out after I heard you hoot. There weren’t nobody else up there with me. I didn’t see anyone down on the beach either, mind you the tide was almost up to the cliffs and it was terrible dark like. I came down the back way, having a smoke. Didn’t want to go home see, knew the missus would take a strip out of my ear as soon as I got home for going on another brandy run.”

“How long did you stay up on the point?”

“No time at all after I put the fire out. The wind was whistling something fierce.”

“And you didn’t see anyone?”      

“No. Mind you I had had a tot or two of brandy to keep me warm. Didn’t even see any rabbits.”

James sighed. Tommy wouldn’t have noticed a monster if it had stood behind him if he had been at the brandy. The last person seen on the beach was Harriet. He looked towards the prow of the boat. She stood there, head cocked on one side, observing the unloading of the skiff. She had said she had heard the body fall.

“She’s as plucky as she is beautiful, that girl is.”

“I beg your pardon.” James turned back to Tommy.

“That Miss Beauregard.” Tommy jerked his head in Harriet’s direction. He shrugged down his shirt at the shoulder to reveal a large red scar, punctuated by neat stitches. “Didn’t bat an eyelid when Bill dragged me to her door. Thought I’d died and gone to heaven when I woke up and saw her flaming hair. Then I heard my missus crying in the background.”

The scar was really rather large. Tommy pointed to it with a gnarled finger. “She stitched me up she did. Threw brandy on my wounds. Blood everywhere. Never mind that silly Romeo and Juliety thing she’s doing at the school. That girl has guts
.
She had Bill and me jumping to her tune. Here. She’s got us in her bloody play too.”

“I had heard.” He hadn’t really questioned what Bill was doing at the schoolroom in the play but now he was beginning to understand.

It seemed that what he had perceived as Harriet’s youthful folly was in reality stubbornness and persistence. She would do anything to get what she wanted.

Why was she on the
Rocket
now? He would need to keep a close eye on her. It wasn’t an unattractive idea. James sighed. He couldn’t think of her like that. Not whilst Marie Mompesson came between him, and his rightful inheritance. He would
not
be beaten by his father.

“Ah, Thomas. Still showing everyone your wound from
la guerre
, I see.” A tall man with broad shoulders vaulted lithely over the railing and landed catlike at James’ side.

Tommy’s mouth dropped open.

“Renard.” James froze inwardly then relaxed as Bill stepped silently to his side. “Welcome.”

“
Salut, Guillaume.
And who do we have here—
alors
James, but you have grown up,
mon ami.
And now aren’t you the
peinture
of a large English brute!” Renard circled James and Tommy and then leaned against a mast.

“
Enchanté,
” drawled James. “And it is good to see you too, Renard. It looks like business has been good for you.”

It was evident; Renard was dressed in courtier dress, although his hair wasn’t powdered. Gilt dripped from his shoulders, and at his waist an enormous sword hung loose.

“Who did you rob to get that outfit, Renard?” James said. Bill looked at him in astonishment. Renard threw them both a lopsided smile. “Bah, we all have our little secrets, Guillaume. James and I had a little business throughout the war, how shall we say,
toujours en secret
?”

James shifted his weight from one foot to another. The mention of the war had made his shoulder hurt.

“I met Renard in the tavern in Calais. He was… instrumental in persuading me to join the army.”

“I hope you don’t blame me still for that.”

“Mmm.” It had been James’ choice to join the British army. Renard had merely been the messenger. “I didn’t realize that you were also smuggling on the side.”

“Ah. We do what we have to.” Renard shrugged and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

James had never wanted to examine too closely how he felt about Renard. He had used him. Used him to protect his own troops and also to keep an eye on Bill, and by proxy, his sister and the goings on in Brambridge. He had not been shocked that they’d kept on their smuggling. He had not told Bill because he knew that he would have been angry to know he was being observed. He knew from Renard that Bill had continually asked throughout the country for the whereabouts of James Stanton, even through the network of contraband smuggling into Wales and far north into Scotland. On one memorable occasion he had received a short note saying ‘James Stanton sought. What message?’ It was signed simply ‘Renard’. He had thought for a week before replying ‘Not found’. He didn’t even bother to sign it.

Bill glanced at Tommy and then at James. He beckoned to Renard. “Enough of the past. Let’s get to it. We’ve set up the back cabin.”

James was surprised. It seemed that Bill was including him in everything. If he had been trying to do anything underhand, then he would have left James out of the negotiations.

The back cabin was obviously where Bill and Tommy had bunked up. A table was set in the center, with several glasses. Renard produced a bottle from underneath his cloak.

“I thought we should sample some of the goods before you pay for it.” He set the bottle on the table and levered up the cork with the edge of his sword. Thrusting the sword back into his belt, he straddled a stool and poured three glasses of brandy. “Are you coming to join me?”

“Of course.” Bill took another chair and gestured at the last one. “Sit down, James. There is nothing to hide from you here. We’re all on business from the Hawk.”

James glanced at Bill quickly. “We are?”

“But of course,
mon ami
.” Renard frowned at James. “Did you not know? Why else would I have given the message to you? Why else do you think I meet with Bill now?”

“I’m not sure.” James picked up a glass of brandy from the table.

Devil bedamned.
If he had been in France or Spain, hiding under a haystack, he would have put two and two together and already made four.

“Bloody hell.” Damn Marie Mompesson, riding officers and damsels with flaming hair. They were turning his head to turnip mush. To think that he had suspected Bill. He took a gulp of the brandy and gasped.

“Mmm. Cask-strength brandy.” Renard tipped the contents of his glass back down his throat and poured another generous measure. Bill sipped his slowly.

“How did you know I was on a mission for the Hawk?”

Renard and Bill put down their glasses.

“Because he told me yesterday,” Bill said.

“Yesterday?”

“And he sent me a note through Bill to tell you that I am not involved either.”

“You are jesting with me.” James stared at his brandy glass and took another gulp. It was as fiery as the first time it had slid down his neck.

“He thought you might say that. Bloody clever man, that Hawk.” Renard handed James a letter sealed with the customary Hawk imprint. “That’s why he left this for you.”

James left the letter on the table. “I’m sorry. I thought I heard you say that you met him yesterday?”

Bill nodded. “Granwich came down too. Scary man that. Seems as soft as pie but knows all of one’s weak points.”

“Why have I not met him?” James paused. “Why does he not want to meet me?”

Renard shrugged. “Open the letter. Find out. Perhaps it has some answers.”

“I’ll open it later.”

Renard shrugged again. “Suit yourself.”

James frowned. From being so outwardly French, Renard had slowly become more and more idiomatically English. He glanced at the lithe man. Renard raised his eyebrows at him.

“Bah. Perhaps it
eez
nothing,
mon ami,”
the spy said. James raised his own eyebrows.

“I’ll give you a hundred sous for the brandy.” Bill laid a purse of coins with a chink on the table. It gave James no time to ponder Renard’s magical turn back into a French courtier.

“And for your extra crew?”

“I will charge you a hundred sous.”

Bill reached for the pouch on the table, but pulled his hands back in time, just before Renard slapped the pouch with his sword.

“I believe we agreed a hundred for the brandy and fifty for the couple. Remember I am doing you a favor by providing them.”

“And I am sure that they have already paid you handsomely, many times more than fifty sous.” Bill’s mouth set in a straight line.

“Take it or leave it. I can always off load the brandy again.”

Bill’s eyes flickered from James to Renard. “Alright. You win, Renard. As always.”

“That is why I am called the fox, my friend. A fox always gets its quarry. Now then, I believe you have someone else that wishes to do business with me?”

James froze. There were no more unexpected guests on the
Rocket
other than those that he had already met that day. The couple was safely stowed below and Harriet was on deck…

“You are not letting her…”

Bill glared at him as he spoke.

“…him do business with this man?”

“He,” Bill said with unnecessary emphasis, “pleaded with me.”

“But he is only a young boy.”

“He is
only
two years younger than you.”

James swallowed. It was true. And she had amply demonstrated she knew her own mind. Tommy had said that she could command. He gazed at the sword that Renard had brought down with such force on the pouch of money earlier that it had split the bag in two. He hoped she knew what she was doing.

CHAPTER 17