A Shadow's Bliss (11 page)

“Yes, ma'am. Duster will go along better when I've made him a proper cage. And so shall I.”

Her eyebrows lifted in a silent question, and he explained, “I fashioned him a makeshift swing, which I think he likes, for he becomes agitated if I take it out. But he has a withered claw, you know, and now and then—usually in the middle of the night—he seems to lose his grip on the swing and goes crashing down, and then rushes about creating a great deal of noise and confusion.”

Jennifer laughed. “Whereby your sleep is interrupted, is it?”

“So much so that the next swing will be far more sturdy,
and
lower!”

“I cannot credit that so small a creature could cause such a fuss, Jack. Do you not—” Interrupting herself, she asked, “Were you christened Jack? Or is it just a nickname?”

He said slowly, “My name is Jonathan, ma'am. And I seem to recall someone … calling me ‘Johnny.'”

“Someone? A man? A lady?”

“A lady.”

‘A woman—and likely he is wed,' she thought, and wondered why that possibility had not occurred to her before.

Jonathan stared blankly at his scattered driftwood, and Jennifer frowned at Chanteuse.

After a brief silence, she asked rather brusquely, “Why did you tell Lord Green that you had climbed up the cliff?”

“Because I had, ma'am.”

She shook her head. “Come now, Ja—Jonathan. My brother Royce has climbed in Italy and is considered most skilled, yet he told me there is no way up the cliff face north of Devil's Ladder, without a man uses climbing equipment.”

His lips tightened, but he said nothing.

“Won't you tell me what really happened?” she persisted, thinking that the children would be punished if they were responsible.

“I told you what happened, Miss Jennifer.”

Taken aback by the touch of hauteur in his voice, she demanded, “Look at me.”

He met her eyes with a cool and steady gaze. It went against common sense for her to believe this ever more incomprehensible man, but she found she could no longer doubt him. Awed, she murmured, “You must be a superb climber. Even so, the risk was dreadful. Why ever would you do so mad a thing?”

His eyes fell.

“It is as I thought!” she exclaimed. “Those boys were tormenting you again.”

“No. But—please, do not ask, Miss Jennifer. See, I am better. Allow me to throw you up. You will be missed by now.”

She really was being dismissed! The effrontery of the man! Irked, she said, “Oh, very well,” and as she settled herself into the saddle, added, “if you must be so surly, I will—”

His hand closed on her boot. A pair of ardent grey eyes gazed up at her, and he declared with passionate intensity, “Never that! 'Fore heaven, I would die sooner than—” He broke off with a gasp, then drew back, and stammered, “'Tis only that— It is something I try not to— I do not like to—to speak of.”

But he had betrayed himself. More moved than she would have thought possible, she felt her face flame, which was ridiculous. Confused by her reaction, and not a little embarrassed, she turned away and gazed out to sea. “Oh, look!” she exclaimed, admiringly. “What a great ship! Such a lovely sight!”

He watched her slim figure, the feather that curled down beside her smooth cheek, the little boot that peeped from under her habit, and he said quietly, “Very lovely,” then lowered his eyes quickly as she turned to him.

“You're not looking!” she said accusingly. “Johnny, you must! She is under full sail!”

“Yes, for the breeze has come up.”

“She is a ship of the line, do you agree?”

He stared fixedly at the ground. “More likely she is just a—a merchantman.”

“Never! I demand that you inspect her and admit I am right! She carries that new sail they call the—oh, what is it? Off the bowsprit, I mean.” Finding that he still had not turned his head, she tugged his hair gently. “Why must you be so stubborn, wretched creature? You will know what 'tis called. See there.”

His glance was very brief, and his voice sharp with strain when he answered, “It is called the jib.”

Having dwelt always on this wild coast, the sea and ships were so much a part of her life that it had never occurred to her that anyone might view them in a different light. With sudden intuitive comprehension she murmured, “My heavens! So
that
is why you waited for a thick fog before you would go down to the beach for your driftwood! You fear the sea! Did the tide come in while you were on the beach? Is that why you made that frightful climb? Johnny—
is
that why?”

With a muffled exclamation he met her eyes, and said as if the words were torn from him, “Very likely. I don't remember. I was on the beach one moment and—and next thing I knew, I was halfway up the cliff. My—my mind, you see, so often plays me false. Your brother was right, Miss Britewell. You should … steer clear of this—this shadow of a man!”

And he turned and left a lady who was alternately indignant and sympathetic, and more perplexed than ever.

C
HAPTER
V

Howland Britewell stared at Lord Green in mystification. “A spy?” he echoed. “You jest, I think. The man has not two brains to rub together. He don't even know who he is!”

“Does he not?” Green threw a quick glance to the door of the large apartment that was Howland's bedchamber and private parlour, then thrust a knapsack and a length of frayed leather at the younger man. “See here!”

Howland inspected the items curiously. “Is this what he used to haul you up? It does but confirm what I said. None but a lunatic would trust the lives of two men to such a botch!”

“The knots, you fool! The
knots!
”

To be addressed in such a way did not please Mr. Britewell. He said sardonically, “They appear to have held. Of itself, remarkable.”

“Stap and spit me! Are you blind? They are
nautical
knots, or I'm a confounded Dutchman!” Green stamped to the window and back again. “Your precious village idiot is—or was—a
seafaring
man!”

Beginning to be very bored, Howland pointed out, “This, being a coastal region, is home to all manner of sailors, ex-sailors, smugglers, pirates—”

“Do not patronize me, damn your eyes!”

“My apologies, sir.” A muscle rippled in Howland's jaw, but he was in no position to antagonize this uncouth individual, and he contrived to keep his temper. “If you're right, I'd judge him a deserter off some navy frigate, or an East India-man perchance. Why you should see a threat in that possibility is beyond me.”

“I see a threat because he ain't what he seems! He may cringe and creep about like a looby, but when he come down after me he was mighty sure of himself. Ordered me about as though I were a blasted servant!”

Inwardly amused, Howland said gravely, “Still, he got you to safety. For which you must be grateful, my lord.”

Green's response was as crude as it was explicit. He thrust his inflamed face at Howland, and hissed, “Shall I be grateful if he is come to undo our plans?”

Leaning forward in his chair and speaking as softly, Howland said, “If aught has leaked out it has not come from me! I've told no one of your discovery. Not even my father. If you think the Horse Guards suspect—”

At once Green's fierce little eyes became guarded. Drawing back, he said irritably, “Did I say he was from Whitehall? How if he is an
Excise
spy, would you
then
be as nonchalant?”

Howland shook his head. “You really must not take me for a complete fool, sir. I'm fully aware that whatever he has come to, there's no doubt Crazy Jack has known better days. Nor could there have been any doubt but that he was in desperate straits when our witch rescued him. The clod near died. His body carries numerous scars to attest to the rough treatment he was given, and they ain't painted on, you may be assured. Certainly, had he been a Riding Officer his comrades would have come to his aid sooner than stand by and see him expire. Perchance he's a poltroon who ran from the enemy. Or a rake who ran off with his colonel's mistress. Whatever the case, he's a derelict now; broken in mind and spirit. Not worth a pauper's grave.”

Unconvinced, Green tossed his bulk onto a groaning sofa and tugged at his pouting lower lip. “What more do you know of him? He's been here only a short while, by what I hear.”

“Six months, about. He was judged possessed of the evil eye in St. Just, and whipped from town at the cart tail. He fared no better at Zenor, where they suspected him of being a wrecker, and stoned him from the area. That was a year or so back. More recently, he found work in Garrison Pen—the hamlet is gone now, buried under blowing sands. Some miners objected when one of their women took a fancy to him, and nigh beat him to death. That's when he dragged himself here, and the widow took him in.”

Green, who had listened intently to this unhappy history, said a triumphant, “So you mistrusted him sufficiently to put out an enquiry!”

“And found him to be no more than he claims. May I hope your mind is at rest, my lord?”

“You may not! I mislike the way your sister smiles on him.”

Whatever Howland might think privately, he permitted no member of his family to be criticised by an outsider. He said coldly, “Miss Britewell pities him, besides which she is pleased by the work the block has done for her. If you suppose she would for one instant look with favour on a mindless vagrant—”

“I'm not so daft. But he plays on her sympathies, and the lady has a tender heart. Is one of the reasons I want her for my bride.”

Watching his companion's leer with revulsion, Howland leaned back in his chair and asked smoothly, “How does your courtship progress, my lord?”

“She delights to tease me.” Green chuckled. “Saucy chit. She plays her cards exceeding well, affecting to be disinterested. Oh, never fear, I'm not deceived. You haven't seen my castle, m'boy, but I promise you 'tis one of the showplaces of Hampshire. I hold my court there, y'know. Put the fear of God into the miscreants who come before me. I fancy I could show you a hundred ladies who have dropped the handkerchief, for my fortune is large, and I've a way with the fair sex, besides. The women like a forceful man.” He winked into Howland's rather set smile, and went on expansively, “No, no. The female don't draw breath who wouldn't give her soul to be Lady Hibbard Green, and mistress of Buckler Castle. Your pretty sister likes to play coquette, and I've no objection, for I enjoy a good chase, so you've nothing to fear on that head.”

Howland was reminded of some of the rumours he'd heard about his lordship's treatment of the hapless prisoners who were haled before him. For just an instant he could not command his voice. Then he said, “I'm glad you are a patient man, sir.”

“To a point!” Green's good humour vanished, and he said coldly, “But I want that dock, Britewell. And I want your father's signature on my deed. I've no doubt the old man delays, thinking to run up the price, but—”

“He delays because he don't like the prospect of an ugly dock on our beach, and ships unloading supplies at all hours!”

“Well, he'd best make up his mind. Everyone believes the Blue Rose Mine to be played out and worthless. He's getting a generous price for such a property.”

Britewell said with soft emphasis, “Yes, if it
was
such a property. But if he knew what you and your alchemist have found in there…!”

“Then he would run up the price and likely bring in a flood of other bidders. And you and I, my dear fellow, would stand to lose a fortune! Besides which”—his lordship's smile was unpleasant—“I would have to demand immediate settlement of the very considerable sum you owe me.”

Britewell's handsome features flushed with anger. “Oh, all right! All right!” he said sulkily. “I'll go down and have a word with my father.”

Standing also, Green accompanied him to the door. “Choose your words carefully, friend,” he advised. “Sir Vinson has
such
a prejudice 'gainst gaming. What a pity if I were obliged to shatter his faith in you.”

*   *   *

Approaching her father's study, Jennifer heard irate voices and she paused for a moment, listening. Howland was there, but she could not detect my lord Green's harsh accents. She scratched at the door and went inside.

Both men stood at once, and Sir Vinson came around his big desk to take her hand and scan her anxiously. “You have had a frightening experience, child. I wonder you can look so composed.”

“And why you did not come home with Lord Green,” murmured Howland, all innocence.

“Yes indeed. We worried about you.” Sir Vinson guided Jennifer to a chair and pulled another close to her. “His lordship should not have left you alone after such a shock.”

Howland's eyebrows went up. “Were you alone then, Jennifer?”

Ignoring him, she said to her father, “I stayed to help poor Jack. I expect his lordship will have told you, sir, that he fell from the cliff and that Jack climbed down and—”

“And also claims to have first climbed all the way up.” Howland laughed. “What a farradiddle!”

Sir Vinson's fine eyes widened. “He never said such a thing? Oh, well. I suppose the poor fellow can scarce be held accountable.”

“Or be thanked for a courageous rescue?” Angry, Jennifer flared, “He risked his life for that horrid man. And a fine reward he was given!”

“Guard your tongue, if you please, miss,” said Sir Vinson, sternly. “Lord Green is my guest and I'll not have him insulted whilst he is under my roof.”

Howland drawled, “If the looby expects to be paid for his services, I'll give him a guinea or two.”

Jennifer sprang to her feet. “He asked
nothing
in return! And if to risk one's life can be dismissed with contempt as having rendered a ‘service,' you've an odd notion of gallantry, brother!”