Anne Ashley, page 15
As though she had somehow managed silently to communicate her dilemma to her mount, the mare made to move off to the left on to the village street. Briony was about to check her, then stopped. The animal had automatically taken the route that had become so familiar in recent weeks—the road leading to the coast. And why not? Briony thought. It was as good a gamble as any other, after all.
Once out of the village, Briony gave the mare her head and they quickly arrived at the coast road. She had seen no one throughout the entire journey thus far, for which she was exceedingly grateful. She couldn’t help thinking that anyone abroad at this time of night must surely be up to no good at all. Which once again begged the question of what Luke found to occupy him during his night-time ventures.
As she rounded yet another bend in the road, Petersham House stood out, an eerie black mass beneath the starry sky. Without conscious thought, Briony headed towards the mansion at a much slower pace. The road, which had been steadily twisting upwards, at last began to level off. She rode past the tall wrought-iron gates of the big house, now firmly locked against visitors, welcome or otherwise. An owl hooted somewhere off to her left, where fields gave way to a thick wooded area, and at last she detected the sound of waves crashing against the rocks. In the cove below the great house a cluster of tumbledown dwellings betrayed the impoverished existence of the inhabitants, most of whom barely earned enough to live from the sea. To reach the cove one had to take the right-hand fork, but Briony, at last silently admitting defeat, took the left in order to return to the Manor.
As the road began to twist gently downwards away from the high rocky coast, and the land became more thickly wooded, Briony began to feel distinctly uneasy for the first time. It was the perfect terrain for brigands to lie in wait for the unsuspecting traveller.
No sooner had the alarming thought passed through her mind than she detected a rustling sound almost directly behind her. Then everything happened so quickly that she could do little else other than utter a startled cry, which was quickly stifled by the firm hand that clapped over her mouth as she was hauled rather roughly and readily from the saddle.
‘I could wring your blasted neck, my girl!’ a deep and reassuringly familiar voice rasped in her left ear while she was being dragged backwards behind a thick clump of bushes and trees. ‘Wait there and don’t you dare make a sound!’ Luke ordered, releasing her at last in order to retrieve the mare and securely tether her out of sight, well away from the road.
A hundred questions tumbled one after another across her mind, but Briony had sense enough to heed Luke’s warning and remained sensibly submissive as he returned, pulling her down on the ground beside him.
‘You’ll have a deal of explaining to do, young woman, when I get you home,’ he hissed through clenched teeth.
‘And I’m by no means the only one,’ she whispered in return, not unduly perturbed by the evident threat. If anything, she felt hugely comforted by his presence, though why his face was blackened and he was dressed in such shabby clothing was somewhat puzzling.
Suddenly he placed a finger against his lips, cautioning against further exchanges. A moment later Briony heard it, too—the sound of hoofs drawing ever closer and the distinct sound of braying. Then they were there on the road, only yards from where she lay, a string of donkeys laden with goods—smuggled goods, she did not doubt. There must have been a dozen or maybe even more, and at least as many men, leading and walking alongside.
When finally the cavalcade had passed and could only just be heard in the distance, Luke got to his feet. ‘Stay here and don’t make a sound,’ he whispered. ‘Whatever you do, don’t attempt to leave on your own. It isn’t safe yet. There may well be others about. Wait for my return.’
The instant he disappeared among the trees, Briony began to feel distinctly uneasy again. Whatever Luke was up to—and everything pointed to, if not actual involvement, a keen interest in the illicit trade—she still felt a deal more comfortable with him beside her.
As she slowly rose to her feet, she detected the sound of further thundering hoofbeats drawing nearer. Within the space of a minute several horses galloped past, each bearing a man in uniform. The militia was out in force and there could be little doubt for whom they were searching. Thank heavens she’d had sense enough to heed Luke’s advice and had remained hidden! Had she attempted to venture home, she would undoubtedly have come upon Lieutenant Henshaw’s men, and would have had some rather embarrassing questions to answer.
She detected raised voices in the distance and almost immediately afterwards a series of shots rang out in rapid succession. Clearly the militia had run its quarry to earth, and from the anguished cries that echoed eerily through the wood, not all the men would be returning safely home. But where was Luke? Surely he hadn’t involved himself in the fight?
The silence that eventually followed was more disturbing still. Briony had no notion of how long she stood there waiting, listening for the slightest sound to indicate Luke was close by once again. It might have been minutes only or much, much longer. Just when she thought she couldn’t bear the uncertainty of what had befallen him a moment longer, she detected the sound of approaching footsteps, and saw him emerge between the trees, leading his prized stallion.
All at once she knew something was very wrong. He wasn’t moving in that easy fluid way of his. His every step seemed laboured and his right arm was hanging limply. She rushed to meet him, recognising the lines of strain etched in his face the instant she reached his side.
‘You’ve been hurt.’ It wasn’t a question; she knew he had. Thankfully he had sense enough not to attempt to deny it.
‘I’ve taken a ball in the shoulder, Briony, and I’ve lost a deal of blood. Can you help me to mount?’
A conveniently fallen tree provided the ideal means. She held the stallion steady while Luke somehow managed to heave himself into the saddle. Whether he’d have strength enough to remain there was a different matter.
‘I’m relying on you to get us back to the Manor…unseen,’ he told her, as she used the same means to remount her mare. ‘Now, listen to me, Briony,’ he went on, his every word an anguished whisper, clearly revealing the pain he was experiencing. ‘No one must discover where I’ve been this night. It’s imperative that no one knows I was here, do you understand?’
For a moment she thought he was about to lose consciousness, so didn’t attempt to discuss the matter. Instead she took a firm grasp of Vulcan’s reins. Luke needed all his strength to remain in the saddle. She feared, though, that even this task might prove too much for him.
* * *
Never had Briony seen a more welcoming sight than that single candle flickering in a window at the lodge, a clear indication that Ben Carey was awake, awaiting his master’s return. Undoubtedly the servant wouldn’t be expecting to find Luke in this state, she reflected. Nor would he be expecting to see her, come to that. The wonder of it all was that they had managed to get back at all. Times without number she had expected to see Luke tumbling to the ground, but somehow he had maintained his grasp on the pommel of his saddle.
No sooner had she slipped down from hers than the lodge door opened. She offered no explanations and Ben Carey, after one glance up at his master, didn’t even attempt to ask for any. Half dragging, half carrying, they somehow managed to get Luke into the lodge and on to the bed. It was only then, after pulling both jacket and shirt aside, she realised just how badly hurt he was.
‘Oh, my God!’ Briony closed her eyes in brief, silent prayer. She knew what needed to be done. She could only hope she had strength enough to carry it out. ‘The lead ball is still in there. It must be dug out. And I cannot even summon a doctor to carry out the task.’
‘No, mistress…I know you can’t.’
‘Yes, I expect there’s a great deal you do know. But now isn’t the time to attempt to satisfy my curiosity.’ She glanced across at the window. ‘It will be light in an hour or so. I must return to the Manor. I’ll be back as soon as I can with bandages and other things we’ll need.’
‘Mistress…?’ There was real anguish in the servant’s voice. ‘I can’t do it. My hands…my hands just aren’t steady enough.’
‘I’m not asking you to do it, Ben,’ she assured him. ‘Whilst I’m gone, strip your master of his clothes and burn them. Then clean him up as best you can.’ She transferred her gaze to Luke lying so still on the bed, only the slight up-and-down movement of his chest indicating that he still clung to life… But for how much longer?
Determined to concentrate on what needed to be done, and not give way to emotion, she dismissed the heart-rending thought from her mind. ‘I promised your master I’d tell no one of this night’s escapade,’ she revealed as she went over to the door. ‘Unfortunately, I must break my word. If I’m to stand the remotest chance of keeping his activities secret from the world at large, then I have no choice but to take one other into my confidence.’
* * *
The new day had long since dawned before Briony had fixed the bandages tightly across Luke’s chest. Thankfully he had remained blessedly unconscious throughout most of the ordeal of removing the lead ball from his shoulder. Only when Ben had applied a red-hot poker in order to cauterise the wound did he betray any sign of pain. Blessedly he relapsed into unconsciousness soon afterwards.
Briony placed a hand on his forehead. He was betraying no signs of a fever yet, but this she knew was a very real possibility. He had survived the ordeal of the operation, but he had lost a deal of blood and was looking worryingly pale. There was laudanum at the Manor, should the need for it arise, but other than giving him this, there was little more she could do for him.
‘The best thing for the master now is sleep.’ Janet, ever practical, pulled the bed covers up a little and tucked them securely round the patient. ‘And you could do with getting some yourself. You look all in, Miss Briony. And little wonder, after what you’ve been obliged to do.’ She tutted. ‘Such goings-on! I’ve never known the like before! Abroad in the dead of night, secret tunnels and I know not what else!’
Deeply concerned though she was over Luke, Briony couldn’t help smiling at these disgruntled mutterings. Dragged from her bed at an ungodly hour in order to help tend her seriously injured master, and then led through a tunnel she’d never known existed until that moment when the secret opening in the cellar had been revealed to her, Janet had every right to feel aggrieved. Genuinely shocked she might still be, and highly disapproving, too, of the previous night’s events. None the less, there was no doubt in Briony’s mind that, like Ben Carey, Janet could be trusted implicitly.
‘Yes, and we must return to the Manor that way, I’m afraid,’ she said, turning her attention to Luke’s trusted servant. ‘We’ll all take turns in watching over your master. No, Ben, you cannot be expected to do all the nursing alone,’ she went on, when he attempted to protest. ‘But we’ll need to be immensely careful. Everything must seem perfectly normal.
‘Now, let us go over the story again… When Smethers discovers his master’s bedchamber empty, you, Janet, will inform him, when he goes down to the kitchen, which he inevitably will do, that the master received word late last night that his uncle, the viscount, was gravely ill, and left at first light, taking with him an overnight bag.’
‘Thank heavens the master never summons Smethers to help him into bed at nights, that’s all I can say!’ Janet put in with feeling, glancing at the portmanteau they’d brought with them from the Manor, containing several of her master’s personal belongings.
‘Quite!’ Briony agreed, before turning again to Ben. ‘You accompanied your master at first light to Dorchester where he intended to board the mail, if he was unable to hire a private carriage. You, after resting them, brought the horses back here and returned to your bed.’
‘Won’t our Sam think that somewhat odd, Miss Briony?’ Janet suggested. ‘That the master didn’t take the carriage, I mean?’
‘I do not see why he should. Remember, he didn’t take the carriage when he travelled to London a few weeks ago,’ Briony reminded her. ‘He went by post-chaise. I cannot imagine Sam, nor either of the lads, will think it strange if told their master made the first stage of the journey on horseback.’
All at once Janet’s countenance was a mask of disapproval. ‘And just why a young lady of your standing should wish to go out riding in the dead of night—’
‘I’ve already explained why I did so. I wished to discover what your master was about at such times. It is by no means the first time he’s been a-roaming after dark.’ She glanced in Ben’s direction and caught him looking sheepishly down at the floor near his feet. ‘Just why he should be watching a gang of smugglers, I have no notion. Ben, here, could no doubt enlighten us. But I have no intention of asking him to betray his master’s confidence by revealing the reason. And neither shall you, Janet!’ she ordered. ‘I shall no doubt discover what I wish to know from your master if…when he begins to recover. In the meantime, we must do all we can to give the impression that nothing untoward has occurred.’
Once again she focused her full attention on the still, silent figure in the bed. ‘I believe his greatest fear, though he never admitted as much, was that he had been seen last night…and possibly recognised.’
* * *
Briony was to receive proof of this late that same morning, when she was awoken by Janet, after catching up on a few blessed hours’ sleep. That something was very wrong was all too obvious by the housekeeper’s anxious expression.
Briony was almost too afraid to ask. ‘Luke…?’
‘No, mistress. There’s no change there, as far as I’m aware. No, there’s two men in uniform demanding to see the master. I told them he was away from home. Then one of them demanded to see you.’
As luck would have it Briony hadn’t even bothered to change into her nightgown. So exhausted had she been, after remaining awake for most of the night, not to mention the trauma of tending to Luke’s injury, that she had flopped down on the bed and had fallen asleep the instant her head had touched the pillow.
With Janet’s assistance it was a simple matter to peel off the habit and don a suitable muslin day dress. Further time was needed to re-dress her hair, but even so she left her visitors kicking their heels in the front parlour for no more than twenty minutes or so.
‘Why, Lieutenant Henshaw, this is a most unexpected pleasure!’ She could only pray the feigned delighted surprise sounded convincing enough. Beneath her ribcage her heart was thumping so loudly she felt both men must surely hear it. Much depended on her performance now. Luke’s future, maybe even his life, might be in real jeopardy if she couldn’t convince these two officers that he was in no way involved in anything unlawful. The truth of the matter was, of course, she wasn’t at all convinced of his complete innocence herself!
‘I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting. My housekeeper had a little difficulty locating my whereabouts. I’m afraid I find this very hot weather most disagreeable and hide myself in the shadiest parts of the garden whenever I’m granted the opportunity. Now, gentlemen, won’t you sit down?’
‘Thank you, no, ma’am. We shall not take up more of your time than is necessary,’ the Lieutenant answered in his usual stiffly formal manner, thereby denying his older companion the opportunity to rest his legs.
‘Now, ma’am, I was assured by your housekeeper that your husband left the house at first light in order to travel to Kent. Are you prepared to confirm this?’
Her appearance of utter bewilderment was masterly. ‘But, of course! Why ever should you doubt it? I did not precisely see him ride out of the drive, you understand. But I packed an overnight bag for him myself before retiring.’
Briony seated herself, striving to maintain the appearance of normality, tinged with puzzlement. ‘Surely my housekeeper explained…? My husband received an urgent message late last night from Kent. His uncle has suffered indifferent health for some few years. When he visited him quite recently he noticed a change in him and wasn’t unduly surprised by the summons.’
The Lieutenant appeared to consider what he’d been told. ‘Why then, ma’am, if the trip was so urgent, did he not take his own carriage? Surely it would have been more convenient for his needs?’
So, the Lieutenant had ridden round to the stables on his arrival and perhaps had chanced to see Luke’s light travelling carriage still in the coach house. How observant! Curse him! But, then, in his line of work, she reflected, he had possibly trained himself not to overlook the smallest detail, no matter how insignificant it might seem. Oh, wasn’t she thankful she had had forethought enough to prepare for just such an inquisition!
‘My husband, sir, has yet to stable horses on the main highway to London.’ At least that much was true! ‘And he refuses to hire job horses for the purpose,’ she went on. ‘He maintains the animals offered are notoriously unreliable, likely to throw a shoe or run lame. Had he been granted more time before departure, naturally he would have arranged to travel by hired carriage. He hoped to do so in Dorchester. If not, it was his intention to travel on the Mail, it being much faster than the stage.
‘You’ll appreciate my curiosity, I’m sure,’ she continued, after a significant moment’s silence. ‘But why all this interest in my husband’s whereabouts? What possible concern can it be of yours? Is there some urgent matter you wish to discuss with him?’
For the first time Lieutenant Henshaw betrayed a touch of unease. His slight discomfiture, however, was as nothing when compared to the seasoned officer’s by his side, who refused to meet her gaze and stared resolutely down at the patterned carpet, transferring his weight from one foot to the other at frequent intervals.
‘Well, the position is this, ma’am,’ the young Customs’ officer finally unlocked his tightly compressed lips to announce, ‘the—er—gentlemen were abroad last night. We received word that a cargo of smuggled goods would be landed somewhere here along the coast in our area. Major Flint’s men were spread a little too thinly, keeping watch on half-a-dozen regular landing places that we know about. Four of his men gave chase while a fifth went in search of reinforcements. The gang of smugglers was well armed. Two soldiers were killed in the line of duty, and a further was hurt. Unfortunately, the gang successfully disappeared under cover of darkness before more members of the militia arrived.’
