Anne Ashley, page 17
‘From the first he has been my prime suspect and I’ve been keeping a watchful eye on Miles Petersham for quite some time now. I’ve moved in the same circles, played at the same gaming tables for high stakes. I’ve been lucky for the most part, winning far more than I’ve lost… Our friend Miles hasn’t been so fortunate, at least not during the two years I’ve been back in London. Yet he’s always able, somehow, to repay his debts, no matter how much he loses in a night.’
‘It’s always possible his father makes him a generous allowance and comes to his aid when the need arises,’ Briony suggested.
Luke smiled grimly. ‘Do not believe everything you hear about Lord Petersham, Briony,’ he advised. ‘My aunt knew him for what he was, what he’s always been—a notorious miser. I remember well enough that, when up at Oxford, Miles was forever complaining about the pitiful allowance his father made him. I’m not suggesting for a moment that Lord Petersham doesn’t now suffer ill health. I’m certain he does. No doubt your friend Dr Mansfield will attest readily enough to that. But I also know his lordship’s disinclination to socialise stems more from a determination not to dip into his pocket to pay for such gatherings than anything else.’
Briony chose to ignore the scathing reference to her particular friendship with Dr Mansfield and concentrated her thoughts on Luke’s astonishing revelations. ‘Well, all I can say is Lord Petersham must be seething over the cost of Melissa’s farewell party. No expense was spared, remember?’
‘I suspect Miles possibly had a hand in that. I had an interesting discussion with Dr Mansfield when we dined at his place the other week. Seemingly Lord Petersham’s last seizure was quite severe. It isn’t beyond the realms of possibility that, as a result, Miles now has more control over the family’s finances.’
Briony considered for a moment. ‘In that case might he now abandon his other methods of acquiring money to maintain his chosen lifestyle, thereby denying you the opportunity of proving his guilt?’
‘Possibly… Who can say?’ Luke released his breath in a protracted sigh. ‘I sincerely hope I’m not a vindictive man, Briony. I also wish the traitor hadn’t been someone I know. But I cannot forget that Miles’s despicable activities possibly cost the lives of many fine soldiers, some of whom were good friends of mine. I cannot forget those who are still out there fighting for their country—courageous men like Hugo Prentiss.’
‘No, of course you can’t,’ she agreed softly, striving not to dwell on the dangers that particular brave soldier might face in the future. ‘So, your assignment was to come down here to Dorset in order to eliminate the other possible suspects, and gather what information you could about the Petersham family’s activities and Miles’s in particular?’
He nodded, staring sombrely down into the remaining contents of his glass. ‘Of course, having an aunt residing in the county was a godsend, offering me the perfect cover. It was common knowledge that Lady Lavinia Ashworth had helped raise me, had stood in the place of a mother. What could be more natural than for me to reside for a while with someone I adored, especially as I had been artfully paving the way for a period of forced rustication for some few months so as not to arouse the least suspicion?’
Briony frowned at this. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Recklessly gambling and losing large sums over a period of several weeks.’ He smiled crookedly. ‘All nonsense, of course. Those occasions when I did lose heavily were always carefully contrived. I did it quite deliberately, but only with close and trusted associates of Sir Bartholomew. The money was always returned to me in full. Then, of course, my name was being linked increasingly with several members of the opposite sex…and one in particular. But I’ll not go into that, save to say it served a purpose.’
Briony had hardly been aware of his reference to the notorious Lady Tockington. What had become crystal clear was the motive behind his marriage to her. She had always known he must have had a very good reason for doing so and that it had nothing to do with the sudden blossoming of any tender emotions. The truth hadn’t hurt back then, on that day he had slipped the wedding band onto her finger. But it did now. Truth on occasions could be so very cruel and so very painful.
She attempted to fortify herself from the contents of her glass. ‘Your aunt’s death was a bitter blow in more ways than one. I see that now.’ She took another sip of wine in an attempt to ease the constricting ache in her throat. Aware that he was watching her closely, she rose from the chair and went over to the window again, determined not to reveal her ever-increasing heartache. ‘You—you were obliged to pay a high price…relinquishing your bachelorhood in order to continue your surveillance without rousing suspicion.’
His immediate response surprised her somewhat. ‘No, I don’t think so.’ He had sounded so very matter of fact about it, too. ‘Almost from the first, instinct told me I could trust you. I would have much preferred had you not become involved,’ he freely admitted, before raising his left hand in a helpless gesture. ‘I did everything I could in the hope of achieving just that. I used the tunnel, which, incidentally, I discovered as a boy, in order to come and go unobserved. I had Ben housed here at the lodge so that I could ride out at night on Vulcan and no one would be any the wiser. What I couldn’t possibly have made the least allowance for was marrying someone who was such a confounded light sleeper!’
She couldn’t forbear a smile at the disgruntled tone. ‘I’m not as a rule,’ she admitted. ‘These past weeks, though, have been…unsettling to say the least, and my sleep has probably suffered as a result. But that is beside the point,’ she went on, determined to concentrate her thoughts and discover all she could. ‘Why did you choose the other night in particular to go abroad? Had you received word that information might be passed on and were hoping to catch Miles Petersham in the act?’
He laughed outright at this, genuinely amused, then winced at the pain shooting through his shoulder. ‘If only it were that simple! No, Briony. Truth to tell, I’m still not 100 percent certain Miles is our traitor…but almost convinced that he is. What I’ve been doing these past weeks is scouting the area, searching out possible landing places for contraband. There are several, as our friend Lieutenant Henshaw is very well aware. I took a rowing boat out the other week, hired from one of the fishermen living in the cove below Petersham House. It isn’t visible from the coast road, and you cannot even glimpse it from the cliff edge, but there’s a small cove just below the House.
‘I pulled the rowing boat up on to the area of shingle beach and noticed that, behind some rocks, was an opening in the cliff face, completely undetectable from the sea and easily wide enough for a man to squeeze through carrying a quantity of contraband. Further exploration revealed that it opened up into a wide, high cave. It was an easy climb up to a further opening that granted access to a wide grassy path in the Petershams’ sizeable shrubbery—the perfect cover for smugglers. A lookout placed near the road would reveal when the coast was clear. Then it would be a simple matter to lead the donkeys, laden with goods, across the road and into the cover of the wood.’
‘Heavens above!’ Briony was genuinely shocked. ‘You don’t suppose the whole Petersham family is involved, do you?’
‘Possibly. It’s surprising how many are willing to close their curtains on the dark nights the—er—gentlemen are abroad…for a price, naturally. But I doubt the old man has been involved in the selling of his country’s secrets. A miser he might be, but I would hesitate to call him traitor.’ He shook his head. ‘No, that I have come increasingly to believe was Miles’s brainchild. Not only has he a cousin employed in the War Office, he has undoubtedly been acquainted with those engaged in smuggling on both sides of the Channel for many years. Ideally placed, one might say, to sell one’s country’s secrets.’
‘But how to prove it,’ Briony remarked, after a moment’s sombre reflection.
‘Quite! And that I was endeavouring to do the other night,’ Luke admitted. ‘I was hoping to get close enough to the smugglers to recognise one of them. I’ve been down to the fishing village a score of times. I’ve even sampled a tankard or two of ale in that lowly tavern down there, studying the locals, attempting to judge their mettle. To persuade one of them to inform wouldn’t be easy, I’ve always known that. The gangs are usually made up of men in the surrounding area, close-knit. Should one of their number turn traitor, he risks not only his own life, but the lives of his immediate family.’
‘In that case it’s unlikely one of them will risk turning informant,’ she pointed out.
‘Perhaps,’ he agreed, staring thoughtfully down at the patchwork quilt covering the bed. ‘But it would be a mistake to brand them all as hardened cutthroats. Men become involved for a variety of reasons. Usually it’s money, but not always. Some don’t quite realise just what they’re getting into. Initially they do it for a bit of adventure, the thrill of outwitting the law, and having a few extra guineas in their pocket. They don’t realise that, once involved, there’s no way out… And it is just such a one I’m desperate to find.’
When Briony made no comment he eventually glanced across and was surprised to discover an almost-frozen expression on her face. ‘What’s wrong? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘You haven’t,’ she assured him. ‘But I couldn’t help wondering—if you did manage to find someone, what guarantees could you offer to assure him that he and his loved ones would not suffer as a result of assisting you?’
‘Much would depend on his needs. But I would do everything within my power to protect him and his family. He certainly wouldn’t lose by it.’
‘I see.’ Placing her glass back on the table, Briony hurried across to the door. ‘You need to rest, so I’ll leave you now. I shall return later. I’ll ask Janet to bring you your lunch, if I’m not back in time… It just so happens I’ve remembered an urgent errand in town.’
Chapter Twelve
‘Why, this is a pleasant surprise!’ Mary declared, after Briony had entered the shop late that same morning. ‘I haven’t seen you in weeks, though I cannot say I’m in the least surprised. If I were married to such a charming gentleman, I wouldn’t wish to be away from him for very long.’
Briony took the gentle teasing in good part and was happy enough to chat away on quite impersonal topics for some little time, after she and her childhood companion had sought the privacy of the back room. Even so, she never once lost sight of the important reason behind the visit; the instant Mary had finished regaling her with all the latest scurrilous gossip circulating about the town and surrounding area, she came to the point of her visit.
Her companion’s demeanour changed in an instant, her expression becoming decidedly guarded. ‘Wh-what makes you suppose I’m concerned about Will?’
‘Because you admitted as much when I visited you here not long after Lady Ashworth’s funeral,’ Briony reminded her, determined to get to the truth of the matter. ‘You said he’d been mixing in bad company… Would that company be free traders, by any chance?’
The fact that Mary gave a visible start was answer enough. ‘Come on, Mary, you can trust me,’ she urged. ‘For some little time I’ve suspected that bolt of dark-blue silk you had here was smuggled goods and I’ve never once confided my suspicions to anyone, not even to my husband.’ She thought it prudent not to add that she hadn’t needed to do so, as Luke had suspected as much himself.
‘Oh, Briony, if only you knew how worried I’ve been these past months!’ she declared, burying her face in her hands for a moment. ‘He was mad to get involved with them in the first place. He’s admitted as much himself,’ she revealed, spreading her hands in a helpless gesture. ‘But…’
‘But once you’re in with the free traders, there’s no getting out without grave risk,’ Briony finished for her. ‘Yes, I know that much myself. They’re a ruthless lot, by all accounts, and quite merciless to those who would attempt to betray them, or those they no longer trust.’
Mary sighed. ‘That material he brought here was his share from several runs,’ she explained. ‘He didn’t want anything for himself. I suppose he felt too ashamed of what he’d done. In the end he was forced to take something in case they became suspicious. That was the first I ever knew about his involvement, when he brought that bolt of silk to the shop. He swore, given the choice, he’d have nothing more to do with them. He’s not so much bothered for himself. He could disappear one night and make a fresh start somewhere else, miles away from here, where they’d never find him. But he wouldn’t do that and leave me behind. He’s afraid they might take their revenge out on me.
‘Oh, but, Briony, I don’t want to leave!’ Mary declared, on the verge of tears. ‘I’ve made such a life for myself here. If I went off with Will, I’d lose everything I’ve worked so hard for these past years. But if I don’t, what will become of him? Deep down I know he’s only remaining in the gang now because of me.’
‘Perhaps there might be a way out for you both,’ Briony at last revealed. ‘I know of someone who might be able to help. But he will need to speak with your brother first.’
Mary appeared unsure, as though she couldn’t quite believe what she was being told. ‘But who could help us, and how?’
‘That needn’t concern you for the moment. What you must do is persuade Will to come over to the Manor. When do you next expect to see him?’
‘This Sunday, as it so happens. He always comes to see me whenever he can. He does get a day off now and then. He usually calls in the afternoon when he does come and stays for an hour or so and has a bite to eat.’
‘Well, this Sunday, if he’s willing to take the chance, and he really wishes to sever all ties with the free traders, bring him over to the Manor for tea. I know there’s a risk. It’s only to be expected you’ll be seen. But it isn’t unusual for you to hire the gig from the White Hart, Mary,’ Briony reminded her. ‘Do so this Sunday. Place several packages in there, then folk will assume you’re merely out and about making deliveries, so your call at the Manor will not seem in any way odd. It’s common knowledge I’m a regular customer of yours. Once there, I will introduce you to the person who can help, providing, that is, your brother is prepared to help him in return.’
She rose to her feet, not wishing Mary to bombard her with questions that she was unable to answer. ‘If Will is wishful to escape from the clutches of the free traders, then I shall expect to see you on Sunday. If you do not arrive….well, I shall understand and shall not attempt to raise the subject with you again.’
* * *
Although Briony had only to be patient for two days, it did seem an interminable long wait before Sunday finally arrived. Much of her time during daylight hours had been taken up attempting to keep Luke amused, and, more importantly, striving to prevent him from committing more folly by leaving his bed too soon, thereby running the risk of a possible relapse.
He had certainly proved himself to be not the most amenable patient in the world. Eventually, though, common sense had prevailed and he had reluctantly accepted that he could accomplish little until after Ben Carey had returned, hopefully carrying instructions from Sir Bartholomew on how to proceed, and had therefore been prepared, albeit reluctantly, to remain in the small ground-floor bedchamber at the lodge for the time being at least.
Although Mary had given her every reason to suppose her brother wasn’t a contented member of the smuggling gang, Briony had no way of knowing for sure whether Will would be willing to trust someone he hadn’t set eyes on in very many years. Consequently, she had kept the knowledge of Will’s involvement to herself and had not taken Luke into her confidence. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him. On the contrary, she trusted him implicitly now. All the same, she didn’t wish to jeopardise her close bond with Mary by revealing what she knew to a third party, until such time as she had attained full permission from both brother and sister.
A somewhat battered gig turning into the driveway caught Briony’s immediate attention as she stood at the parlour window anxiously waiting; she released her breath in a sigh of relief. As the minutes had ticked slowly by and mid-afternoon had arrived, she had almost given up any hope of seeing them at all. But there they were, sitting side by side in the rickety conveyance that had seen a good many years’ service, and would no doubt see a good many more, if the thrifty innkeeper at the White Hart had his way.
It surprised Briony not at all to see Will tool the gig round the side of the house towards the stable yard. Mary, even though she had risen in status far above that of a servant, had never once given herself airs, nor attempted to take advantage of her close association with Lady Ashworth. Nor, for that matter, had she once attempted to gain entry to the Manor by way of any other entrance than the kitchen door. Consequently, several more minutes had elapsed before the parlour door was opened by Janet, and Mary, closely followed by her giant of a brother, entered the room.
All at once Briony was reminded of the first time she had ever clapped eyes on Colonel Hugo Prentiss. Will was as tall, if not an inch or two taller, than the big man who would always hold a place in her heart. Unlike the darling Colonel, however, poor Will looked decidedly ill at ease, standing in the doorway and turning his misshapen hat round and round in his massive hands.
‘Is everything arranged, Janet?’
‘Yes, mistress. I carried the baskets of food down to the cellar myself and I’ll see to it that young Daisy’s kept busy when you’re ready.’
‘In that case, just give me five minutes. I must have a word with Mary and Will first.’
Indicating the same chair that had served so well during the Colonel’s short stay at the Manor, Briony invited Will to seat himself; once Mary, too, was settled, she didn’t waste time on unnecessary small talk.
