Jessica (12 page)

Rosamund looked a little miffed. “I do not see that his opinion makes any difference.”

“To you, no. But to me it makes a great deal of difference.”

Rosamund’s eyes cleared. “You and Nicholas?”

“I have a great tenderness for him, certainly.”

“You will have to get past the dragon.”

“Lady Amelia?”

“My conduct is cutting her to the very quick. I shudder to imagine what she would do were Nicholas to seek your hand.”

“Oh, I do not think it has come to that pass yet, if indeed it comes to it at all.”

“You would be his mistress?”

“No.”

“You will hold out for a ring then?”

“No. I merely know that I will be no man’s mistress again. But I do not seek to marry him. I know only that I enjoy his company a great deal and look forward to the time when I shall see him next.”

“Then that is surely a firm platform from which to begin.”

“It merely means that I like him and would set matters right with him before you leave the big house.”

“Shall I tell him you wish to speak with him?”

“Yes. Ask him if he will come to Applegarth tonight.”

“He may construe that as a certain kind of invitation, Jessica.”

Perplexed, Jessica lowered the window to breathe the flower-scented air. “Well, I cannot go to see him at Woodville House. He must come to the cottage.”

“Meet him somewhere in Henbury, for that would surely be the most seemly solution.”

Without explaining that she wished to make certain Nicholas was kept away from Ladywood that night, Jessica could say no more, so she changed the subject as the barouche rumbled to a halt by the little landing stage where the rowing boats were moored. High on the hill they could see Varangian Hall, standing proud of its vast parklands on the great hill overlooking the sea.

Rosamund stood on the jetty looking up at the house. “Do you think he will lose it somehow?”

“I don’t know, Rosamund.”

“Someone has that cursed note
—
I know that must be so!”

“But who? Philip’s papers have been gone through by the Woodville lawyers now, and nothing has come to light or you would know of it.”

“I know that the blackmail has begun again.”

“Yes, from a letter Philip sent before he died
—
a letter that was in the stolen mail bag.”

“But... .”

“Francis chose not to believe me. Unless, as you say, someone else has the note.”

They looked at each other.

“But who?” asked Rosamund at last.

“I don’t know.” Jessica pushed the prow of a boat with her toe and it dipped on the wavelets.

“Can I come to Applegarth tomorrow?”

“So quickly?”

“I have decided that I want Francis and nothing will stand in my way.”

“You may come when you wish, Rosamund, for you are very welcome.”

“And what of Nicholas?”

“I will have to face that if and when it comes.”

“There are rain clouds coming inland, look. Shall we go back now?”

They climbed back into the waiting barouche and soon were swaying back along the lane towards Henbury. Jessica looked up at the darkening skies where the clouds were gathering with alarming swiftness. But there was no wind, nothing that might deter the smugglers from coming into the bay that night.

A groundsman was painting the wrought iron gates of Woodville House when the barouche drove past, although at that very moment it began to rain and he straightened to leave his task. The barouche halted and Rosamund leaned out.

“Has Miss Davey left yet?”

“Yes, Miss Rosamund. She went with Cluffo Dowdeswell some time ago.”

The barouche moved on as the rain fell more heavily, tamping on the roof of the coach. Jessica hoped that Tamsin would have reached the cottage, for she could get very wet in the dogcart. Thunder rumbled across the skies and with it came even heavier rain that was now streaming down in torrents.

They crossed the deserted market square and passed the Feathers where the arched entrance was crowded with people who had been caught by the suddenness of the summer storm. The ford would soon be higher, for the river rose swiftly here, sometimes flooding the inn, although that was usually in more inclement winter weather.

The rain dripped dismally in the trees as they left the town behind. Jessica stared through the trickling rivulets on the window, catching her breath suddenly as she saw a horseman moving through the trees away to her right. She wiped the misty glass and looked out again, in time to see the horse jump a ditch and vanish between the trees toward Ladywood.

Rosamund had seen him, too. “That was Nicholas,” she said in surprise. “Whatever is he doing out here at this time?”

“Getting caught in the rain,” said Jessica lightly, although inside her heart was sinking. Nicholas was already riding for Ladywood.

Rosamund did not get out of the barouche at Applegarth, and Jessica hurried inside as the carriage turned to make its final journey back to Woodville House. Beneath the dripping roses around the door, Jessica paused, looking toward the crumbling wall where the path vanished into Ladywood. Let it not be that Nicholas was going to watch for the smugglers. Let it be for some other reason that he was out riding tonight.

Tamsin was inside slicing a loaf of whole meal bread. “A fine time the ducks’ll have tonight if this keeps up.”

“I wondered if you’d get back in time,” said Jessica, unbuttoning the pelisse carefully, for it was one of her proudest possessions.

“Oh, I’d no walking to do at all. Cluffo took me to the farrier, and Jinks and the dogcart was ready and waiting.”

“How was Harry Parr?”

“Moaning fit to burst, so I reckon he’s all right. Drank a good draught of elderberry wine, anyhow, and had a rosier glow on his cheeks when I left than he had when I arrived.”

“I’m not surprised, for I’ve tasted that devil’s brew of yours.”

Thunder rolled over the valley again and Jessica shivered. “I
’
m glad I’m not out in this now.”

“There’ll be a few damp souls in Ladywood tonight, and serve them right, daft hosebirds. And all for Froggy brandy. It’ll do Cluffo’s chest no good if’n he’s fool enough to go.”

Jessica sat down, looking through the window toward the treetops and wondering about Nicholas. “Nicholas is out in this.”

“Oh, I knows that. I said to Cluffo that I thought the gentry had more sense but it seemed they didn’t.”

Jessica felt cold. “You said that to Cluffo? What did you mean?”

“Well, while I was sitting with Harry, Sir Nicholas looked in and said as he’d be riding down by the ruins in Ladywood tonight. He saw me and said as he was helping Sir Francis’ keepers. But I knowed that wasn’t the truth, but who am I to say so. That was why he was in the wood that night your skirts got caught in the trap, Miss Jess. He were part of the ring. I knows that now, for why else would he be going there tonight?”

“And you told Cluffo he would be in the woods tonight?”

“Yes. Well, why not? It were only in passing and, no doubt, Cluffo knew anyway, seeing as they’re in it together.”

“Oh, Tamsin, what have you done? Cluffo is a smuggler, yes, but Nicholas is a government agent. He’s there trying to catch them. And you’ve warned the ring now.”

Tamsin put down the bread knife and rubbed her hands anxiously over her apron. “Oh, Miss Jess, tell me you’re pulling my leg.”

“Would that I was.” She looked out at the stormy evening again. It was still light, but only just, for the storm clouds blotted out the last of the sun. “When is the tide in tonight?”

“Ten o’clock, I reckon. Why?”

“And the ring will be there before then to guide in the ship?”

“Happen that’s how they does it, I don’t rightly know.”

“That’s about two hours then.”

“Two hours for what?”

“To get to the ruins before they do.”

“You can’t do that. What if they catches you? I can’t let you, Miss Jess.”

“I can’t sit here knowing that he’s probably riding into a trap, can I? I must try to warn him. Tamsin, you know what they’ll do to him if they catch him.”

“There’ll be a well-dressed ‘natomy floating in the bay at first light.”

Jessica stood. “Does the path lead straight to the old abbey?”

“Ah, but you’d be a fool to keep to it. They’ll go that way with the donkeys, for it’s firm and safe for the animals.”

“But I don’t know my way through Ladywood.”

“You can follow the river. Go down from Applegarth land and pick up the river at the bottom of the woods. It goes right through and passes the ruins before dropping quickly down into the bay beyond. But ‘twill be no easy task in this weather, Miss Jess. I’ll come with you.”

“No. I’ll not have you puffing and blowing fit to raise the dead. It will be better on my own.”

“Then have a quick sup of the Madeira afore you goes out. It’ll warm you up.”

As Jessica hurried up the stairs for her old brown mantle, Tamsin poured a liberal cup of wine.

Jessica tied the mantle’s floppy hood beneath her chin and drank the wine.

“For the Lord’s sake have a care, Miss Jess,” pleaded Tamsin anxiously.

The rain swept into the warm kitchen as Jessica opened the front door, and on their hooks above the range the brass pans rattled together in the draft. The air was filled with the sound of the storm and as she stepped out another roll of thunder rippled over the skies. The wet grass dragged against her skirts as she ran toward the gap in the old wall, leaving the telltale path immediately, and following the wall on the boundary of the wood down toward the unseen river. Ivy leaves flapped on the trunks of trees and wound secretly over the roots and stones where she tried to pass.

She picked her way down the boundary slowly, listening for the noise of the river as it babbled over the rocks at the bottom of the valley. The rushing noise passed unnoticed at first in the clamor of rain and thunder, but then she saw the water sweeping around the boulders through a gap in the trees ahead.

The bank was hard and safe as she began to hurry downstream, pushing through the clumps of reeds growing thickly by the water’s edge. A startled roe deer that had been drinking from a pool, darted away as Jessica suddenly appeared from beneath the overhanging fronds of a willow tree.

And then she could see the ruins, standing gray and lonely on the level ground above the distant bay, gleaming pearly-white where the sun had broken through the blanket of storm clouds. There, caught in the shaft of bright, late sun, she saw the ship riding at anchor.

She stood by a rustling alder watching for any sign of movement among the ruins, but all seemed quiet. The clouds closed over the last of the sun, and suddenly she could no longer see the ship in the bay. She brushed aside the leaves to step from the shelter of the bushes by the river’s edge.

Another growl of thunder sounded almost overhead, but she realized the rain was less heavy now. She could no longer feel the drops striking her shoulders and the moaning of the breeze through the damp wood was louder and clearer. The river slid smoothly past the old abbey, its bed unbroken by boulders, but in the distance she heard it babbling again as it rushed the last mile to the sea.

Slowly she moved on to the level ground by the ruins, pausing as a new scent caught her nostrils. It was a distinctive smell, warm and sweet, and mixed with a trace of leather. There was a horse close by. She froze, her eyes sweeping the tangle of branches and leaves that stretched around the perimeter of the clearing. Then she saw it, a dark shadow by a fallen rowan tree. Even in the eerie light of the storm she could see that it was Nicholas’ horse, hidden from the abbey by the tree, and safe from approach from the other side because of the river. But where was Nicholas?

She went to the horse to pat its shoulder soothingly. The animal was hot, as if it had only recently been ridden hard. She left the rowan tree and hurried through the thick grass to the nearest ivy-clad wall, flattening against it breathlessly to scan the remainder of the abbey. It was so horribly quiet now, but for the wind over Ladywood. The rain was reduced to wisps of damp gossamer that brushed her skin so delicately she could not feel it. An owl called. The darkness deepened with each passing second.

“Nicholas?” The whisper sounded unnaturally loud.

Something rustled through the grass behind her and with a gasp she turned, her heart thundering as whatever it was came nearer. Then she saw that it was a vixen, her belly close to the ground and her brush dragging behind her as she slunk across the open ground, pausing nervously to look behind as if she heard something. A twig snapped somewhere and the vixen was gone.

Fearfully, Jessica looked in the direction of the sound. The hairs on the nape of her neck prickled with fear and she licked her lips with a tongue that was dry. Stealthy sounds carried on the breeze, as if someone was creeping ever closer to the ruins. Instinct told her she had only just arrived ahead of the smugglers.

“Nicholas?” she whispered again, moving from the shelter of the wall to the next part of the ruin, the remains of a tower where the ground floor rooms were still complete.

“Nicholas, if you are here, for pity’s sake answer me!” her voice ended on a sob.

Her heart almost stopped then as a hand closed over her mouth and dragged her into a shadowy doorway. “Jessica, what in God’s name are you doing here?” Nicholas shook her, his voice rough with surprise.

She pulled his hand from her mouth urgently. “They know you are here! Tamsin told Cluffo that she heard what you said to Harry Parr. She didn’t know what she was doing.” She stared from him toward the quiet woods where the stealthy sounds had ceased. “The ship is in the bay already,” she whispered, her voice dropping so that he could hardly hear her. “And I heard them coming through the woods a moment ago. They are over that way, cutting off the landward side. There’s no escape that way.”

“Nor to seaward, for they’re already down there, I’ve been watching. God take Varangian, for I caught no sight of him. I’ve still no proof of his involvement.”