Mary Nichols – Sir Ashley's Mettlesome Match (страница 8)

‘What does Sir Ashley say about it?’

‘I have not told him. He is on the side of law and order and has no sympathy for the smugglers. I think he would like to see them all hanged or sent to the hulks.’

‘But he went with you to obtain Ben’s release …’

‘Only because he believes Ben will tell him what he wants to know.’

‘Ben knows nothing,’ Augusta insisted.

‘He must know what Nat was doing.’

‘Oh, dear.’ And she began to wail again. ‘What are we to do? If I had known when I came to live in this godforsaken spot what it would lead to, I would never have come. We were snug and safe miles inland and that is where I wish we had stayed.’

This was something the good lady repeated almost daily and Pippa took no note of it, but she was very worried about Nat. Sir Ashley must not find out about him. But how could she warn her brother when she had no idea where he was?

Sir Felix was out when Ash returned to Narbeach Manor. ‘He’s rid off to the Customs House,’ a stable boy told him when he followed his carriage and horses into the yard. Ash trusted his coachman, Tom Davies, to look after the horses, but it did no harm to let the other stable hands know how particular he was. ‘There was a pitched battle goin’ on there, an hour since. Had to call the militia in, they did.’

Ash decided to go and see what was happening for himself and asked for a horse to be saddled for him. He hurried indoors to change into a riding habit and buckle on his sword, then went back through the kitchen, grabbing a tart from the table and stuffing it into his mouth as he went. Once outside he sprang on the horse’s back and cantered out of the yard and on to the lane in the direction of the quay.

It was obvious there had been a confrontation at the Customs House. Two men were sitting on the wayside nursing broken heads; a bale of tea had burst open and the leaves were scattered all over the road and a band of women were trying to scoop them up. The captain of the dragoons was talking to Sir Felix, both of them still mounted. There was blood on the captain’s sword.Other soldiers had dismounted and were looking after their mounts. There was not a village man to be seen. Ash rode up to the two riders. ‘What happened?’ Sir Felix turned at the sound of his voice. ‘Oh, you’re back. Get the boy, did you?’

‘No, he’s to be released tomorrow. What happened here?’

‘They stormed the Customs House and rescued the contraband.’ He nodded towards the injured men. ‘They battered those poor devils out of their senses.’ ‘You mean the smugglers?’ ‘Yes, who else?’ ‘Were any of them recognised?’ ‘No, so they say. The Captain here winged one of them, so we’re making a search for an injured man, though no doubt his fellows will keep him well hid. As for the contraband, we’ll search for that too, along with the rest that disappeared off the beach last night, though it’s doubtful if we’ll find anything.’

Ash was inclined to agree. Sir Felix did not seem in any great hurry to carry out the search. ‘What can I do to help?’

‘Nothing. You are too late.’ He turned his horse towards home. Ash dismounted and led his horse over to the two Customs men, who were back on their feet. ‘Is anyone looking after your injuries?’

‘We’ll go home,’ one said. ‘Our wives will see to them.’

‘Did you know those who attacked you?’ ‘No, they wore scarves about their faces and hooded cloaks and it happened too quickly. We were eating our dinner when the door burst open and six men came in waving batons. They battered us about the head before we could even get to our feet. And though we shouted, no one came to our aid.’

‘Well, they wouldn’t, would they?’ the other said. ‘No doubt they took their share of the bounty for turning their backs.’

‘What was it?’ Ash asked. ‘Tea? Brandy?’

‘Some of it was. There was tobacco and silk, too. Now we’ve lost our prize. I said two was not enough to guard it and I were right, but Sir Felix would have it that it was enough. Why, I’ve known it take half an army to hold back the smugglers when their minds are made up to regain their goods.’

‘I am sorry for you,’ Ash said. ‘Go home and have your injuries treated. If you remember anything else when you have had time to consider, I am staying with Sir Felix. Ask for me by name. Sir Ashley Saunders.’ He gave them each a half guinea and returned to his horse.

Instead of riding straight back he chose to ride along the shoreline, looking for evidence. The tide had been in and out again since the landing and the sand was smooth. Where the tide did not reach the dunes were dry, held together with tough marram grass and weeds, but the wind had whipped away evidence of men’s feet, horses’ hooves and cart wheels. The smugglers had chosen a good night for their activities. He looked across at the marshes that ringed the western end of the village, but dared not venture on to them. A man who did not know his way could disappear without trace. So could the booty. If that was where it was hidden, it would have to be moved very soon. Goods needed to be taken inland to the markets to make a profit and the smuggling barons would not let it lie idle a moment longer than they had to. He resolved to come out that night and keep watch.

Pippa was sitting in the window of her bedroom, looking out at the sea. She could see Sir Ashley leading his horse along the beach. He was alone and looking at the ground.

She had been sitting there thinking ever since he left. The carriage ride and their conversation, which had appeared so light-hearted, had stirred up memories she thought she had managed to bury so deep they could never surface again. But she had been wrong. It wasn’t that she still yearned for Edward as she had at the beginning; she had long ago convinced herself that if he could not love her as she was, red hair and all, he was not worth her anguish. But once that had been accomplished she was left with the humiliation, the whispers, the half-veiled hints that there must be something wrong with her. And everyone avoiding her.

She had learned to live with that, to accept her eccentricity and even exaggerate it, so that no one took any notice of the lone figure striding along the foreshore in fisherman’s boots and a voluminous cloak that billowed out behind her, while the wind whipped her hair up into a fiery tangle. She could, of course, cut it off and wear a wig. Wigs were going out of fashion, but some still wore them. It was what Edward had wanted her to do.

Not only had he expected her to give up her writing, at which she had been successful enough to support her brother, aunt and cousin in comparative comfort since her parents had died and which she enjoyed, he had complained about the colour of her hair. He said his mother was superstitious and maintained red hair was the mark of the devil; if he married a red-haired woman, he would never prosper and a lot more nonsense that made her angrier and angrier, not only with his mother but with him for believing it. ‘If the colour of someone’s hair is so important,’ she had stormed at him, ‘then you had better find someone whose tresses you find more to your taste.’

She had expected him to pacify her and tell her it did not matter, that he loved her for what she was, but he had turned on his heel and left her. She had never seen him again and a little while later she heard he had left the country and his parents were blaming her.

Now Sir Ashley had brought it all back. He had said all the things she had hoped Edward would say, and he had said them in such a caring way, as if he knew she needed that reassurance. Were confirmed bachelors all so pleasant? Had they learned how to please without the need to propose marriage? Could they be friends as he had suggested?

It would be difficult if Ben really did know something about the smugglers or if Nat turned up and he was also involved. Her need to protect her brother and cousin would certainly come between any possible friendship. She would have to be especially careful when dealing with Sir Ashley. And that was a great pity because she liked him. He made her laugh and let her be herself. One day she might even tell him about Philip King. So deep in thought was she, she did not hear her aunt enter the room until she spoke.

‘Philippa, Sir Felix has just sent round to ask us to supper.’

‘I do not feel like going. I am tired and worried about Nat.’

‘I know, dearest, but we must not let anyone see that and as Sir Felix and Sir Ashley have been so accommodating about Ben, I think it behoves us to make the effort. I could not bear it if they changed their minds because we snubbed them.’

Pippa sighed and got up. ‘You are right. I will change my clothes.’

‘Put on something attractive—that green silk with the quilted stomacher enhances your figure, you know. It is your best feature.’ She pulled the gown out of the clothes press as she spoke and shook it out. ‘And try to do something about your hair. I will send Babette in to help you when she has finished with me.’

‘Yes, Aunt,’ she said meekly, beginning to take off the blue wool. ‘But if you think I will put up with Sir Felix mauling me, you are mistaken. He gives me the shivers. I cannot think what he sees in me.’