Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 02] (41 page)

“The simplest plan is always the best,” he said. “The problem lies in defining the simple plan, and all we know for certain is that Wellington will be on a ship moving from Portsmouth to Fowey sometime Saturday night.”

“We must hope last night’s storm was not the first of a series,” she said, “but even if it is not, we may have fog, you know. Not only is it particularly common this time of year, but we frequently have thick fog within two or three days after any big storm. At the least, judging by the weather this past fortnight, the sky will be overcast or cloudy. On this coast, even smugglers like a little moonlight.”

“I know they do,” he said, grinning, “but wreckers don’t.”

“No, wreckers prefer strong winds and high incoming tides to sweep their victims ashore. Last night would have been excellent by their standard.”

“I’ve experienced only the one wreck, and that was caused by weather. What do wreckers do if there’s not enough wind or a strong enough tide to provide a victim?”

He was watching her through narrowed eyes now, and as she gazed back, a glimmer of an idea stirred. “They misdirect their prey,” she said. “There are stories, horrid ones, about wreckers in the Scilly Isles who lit fires to look like lighthouses, causing ships to wreck on the rocks. Cornishmen are even worse, they say. They don’t allow them to tend the Scilly lighthouses, out of fear of what they might do.”

“They tend lighthouses here in Cornwall, however,” he said thoughtfully. “As I recall, the nearest principal ones are on St. Anthony’s Head near Falmouth, Gribbon Head west of Fowey Harbor, and the Eddystone Light off Plymouth. Is that right?”

She nodded. “There is a small one at the Deadman, too, and more beyond Falmouth. I believe that ships coming into the Channel from France or the Bay of Biscay use the two at the Lizard, and the Eddystone when they can see it, to orient themselves, but surely you aren’t suggesting we darken some lights and create our own? There are other ships sailing Channel waters, after all, wholly innocent ones.”

He grinned. “Do you think I could do that, darken the big lights?”

“Couldn’t you?”

“I suppose I could arrange it, at that, but we’ve less than three days now. Still, if darkness would wreak havoc for the scoundrels, what about too much light? Perhaps we could turn their own tricks against them, by adding lights hither and yon.”

“That would also wreak havoc for innocent ships in the Channel.”

“How did they prevent accidents before they had lighthouses? Or after the Eddystone Light was swept into the sea? You know it’s not the original one, I expect.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not the second either. The first went down in a storm, taking its designer and a lot of others with it, and the second burned down. The present stone one ought to stand until Armageddon, however, unless the rock beneath it crumbles. As to how they guarded the coast before, they used lightships similar to our pilot boats, sailed by men who knew the coast, and watched for approaching ships to warn them off.”

His brow furrowed again. Content to watch him, Charley let her thoughts drift until, with a sigh, he looked at her and said, “We have a number of problems.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “First, we don’t want to send all shipping off course for a night. Second, we don’t want to cause anyone to run aground. Third, we want Wellington to arrive safely at Fowey. Fourth, we don’t yet know who is after him, or what they plan to do. Gabriel said the villains are in league with the French, so the first thing I need to discover is what French ships are harbored nearby, and if others are expected. Oakes can help me there, I know. I’ll have a talk with him, and tell him what we’ve learned. For one thing, he can arrange to make sure we have no villains manning our lighthouses.”

“What do you want me to do? If you need signal fires or lightboats, they will take time to prepare. I could begin if we can decide where they ought to be.”

“I want one fire right here on the headland, visible from either side,” he said. “It won’t fool anyone accustomed to this coastline unless it’s a truly dark night, but along with a few others, it might confuse a vessel enough to make it unsure of its location, and unlikely to attack another ship. Wellington’s captain will use the Eddystone as his mark, and will expect the next light to be Gribbon Head. Our lights won’t fool him, I hope, but the more I think about it, the more likely it seems that the scoundrels must intend to draw them off course somehow. That does make me wish he were landing at Falmouth. With all the traffic in and out of that harbor, they couldn’t hope to tell which ship was his.”

“Fowey used to be the major port,” Charley said. “When Edward II captured Calais, Fowey sent more ships with him than the rest of the kingdom combined.”

“I’m very glad to know that,” Antony said with a teasing twinkle in his eyes.

She stuck out her tongue at him.

He stood up again. “After I talk with Oakes, I’m going to see what more I can find out. I don’t doubt Gabriel had information about villainy afoot, but unless they think they can board Wellington’s ship in the harbor and take him captive there, I can’t imagine how they mean to get him. As for fires, I daresay you’ll find that Corlan knows what’s wanted, because if this headland has not served the same purpose in the past, I’ll eat my boots. On a dark night, extra lights would disorient anyone who doesn’t know this coast like the back of his hand.”

“I’m still uncomfortable about confusing innocent ships,” Charley said.

“No ship will be in real danger,” he said. “They need only hold off till morning to get their bearings, or signal for the aid of a pilot boat from one of the ports, but I’ll see if I can’t arrange for a few extra pilots to be on hand if that will ease your fears.”

When he had gone, Charley went to find Sam Corlan, and to her amusement, learned that he knew as much about setting signal fires on the headland as Antony had predicted he would. Leaving him to attend to the business, with little more than a glib explanation that the master wanted some bonfires lit Saturday night as a celebration signal to incoming ships, she ordered Dancer saddled and went to find Letty, to tell her that their plans for the next couple of days had become somewhat unsettled.

When they met on the headland path, Sebastian barked a greeting, and Letty took Jeremiah from inside her cloak and put him on her shoulder. The monkey promptly began grooming her hair. Separating strands with his nimble fingers, he peered at them as if he were examining each shaft for lice or mites. Untroubled as usual by her pet’s activities, Letty said, “Is something amiss, Cousin Charley?”

“No, merely undecided,” Charley said, watching the monkey with affectionate amusement. “We don’t know exactly when His Grace will arrive at Fowey, you see. Sir Antony had planned for the three of us to ride from here to meet the Duke’s party Sunday morning. Now he finds that he may want to meet his ship when it arrives instead, which may be late Saturday night. He is a trifle concerned about the Duke’s safety, you see, and thinks it might be better to warn him to take special care.”

“When will we know exactly what Sir Antony means to do?”

“That’s the problem. He does not know that, himself. I suggested that we could ride to Fowey to meet him early Sunday morning, but he would prefer that we spend Saturday night at Tuscombe Park and go to Truro with Alfred and the others.”

Letty frowned. “How long is the journey to Truro?”

“About two and a half hours at this time of year, barring accidents.”

“What about Sunday night? I know we are expected to dine at the Park after the ceremony, but will we come back here after that?”

“I don’t think so, darling. It would be rather late by then to ride back, and taking a carriage means a much longer trip, you know. If I’m not mistaken, Sir Antony will expect us to impose on Alfred’s hospitality until Monday morning, at least.”

“Jeremiah will get very lonely without me,” Letty said.

“You must help him become accustomed to being with Aggie. He likes her already, because she frequently gives him treats.”

“Yes, but she doesn’t like him mucking about in her kitchen,” Letty said, unconsciously echoing what Charley knew must have been Aggie’s own words.

“Then ask Bess to look after him,” Charley said, her mind already moving to other, more important matters. “She is always happy to oblige.”

“I like Bess,” Letty said, “but when is Jenifry going to come? If she arrives before we go to Tuscombe, can she go with us? I’d like to have my own companion there. No one pays me any heed unless I go into the nursery, and really, Cousin Charley, Neddy and Jane are entirely too young to be amusing.”

“We’ll see,” Charley promised. “I expect Jenifry will want to come here as soon as her parents say she is fit to do so.”

As it happened, Jenifry arrived early Saturday afternoon with her father. Greeting her fondly, Charley sent her upstairs with Aggie to find Letty, who was supervising the packing of what she would require at Tuscombe. Then, drawing Cubert Breton into a small downstairs parlor, Charley said anxiously, “Is she truly fit, Cubert?”

“Aye, she is, miss, or as near as can be, considering.” The man’s voice was gruff, and he seemed to have a hard time looking at Charley, but at last, he straightened, squared his shoulders, and said bluntly, “We be much beholden to you, Miss Charley, to you and Sir Antony both. You saved our Jen, you did. There be no way to repay the debt, but if ever you’ve a need, I beg you will let me do what I can. My Wenna says the same. She sent this coverlet, made for you with her own two hands.” Tugging his graying forelock, he gave her the brown-paper-wrapped package he carried.

“Thank you, Cubert. How very kind of Wenna, but I require nothing more than to know Jenifry is safe and well. As it is, now I shall worry about you getting back to the moor safely before the fog catches you. It will be upon us soon, doubtless as thick as yesterday, but as it happens, Lady Letitia and I are riding to Tuscombe Park to spend the night, so you can ride with us. You’d do well to stay at Tuscombe overnight, too.”

“Thanking you all the same, ma’am, but I’ve work to do come morning.” His eyes shifted again, not meeting hers, but then he looked right at her, and said, “Happen I’d a bit o’ business hereabouts the night, so it were no hardship to be bringing our Jen. She’s been fretting at the house. Does too much thinking, she does, and sees that devil Michael Peryllys behind every sheep and shadow. Happen she’ll feel safer here at Seacourt House, though, to my mind, there be little to choose betwixt ’em.” He hesitated, then said diffidently, “Would Sir Antony be at hand just now, miss?”

His look was intent, and remembering that, like many others in the area, he frequently lent a hand to smugglers for no more than a barrel of wine, Charley wondered if he knew what the coastal gang planned to do. Knowing she must tread lightly, she shook her head in response to his question and said, “I’m afraid he’s been gone for two days, Cubert. I don’t expect to see him until tomorrow.”

He nodded, shot her another sharp look from beneath his thick salt-and-pepper eyebrows, shifted his feet, then said as if he were changing the subject, “Saw Sam Corlan toting wood toward the point, Miss Charley. Would you be knowing his purpose, ma’am? I ain’t asking just to be prying like. Give you my word on that.”

Charley hesitated. She trusted Cubert Breton despite his reputation, and she did not for a moment believe that after what Michael Peryllys had done to Jenifry, Cubert would aid him in any enterprise. She believed that he felt beholden to her, too, and she did not think he would lie to her. She said, “You know that the Duke of Wellington will be in Cornwall tomorrow, that his ship is due to sail into Fowey Harbor tonight.”

Cubert nodded, his intent gaze never leaving her face.

“Sir Antony has heard rumors,” Charley said quietly, “that there will be an attempt to capture the Duke and hold him to ransom.”

Cubert blinked, and a frown creased his brow. He said, “But who would do such a thing to the great man, and him being our own Prime Minister?”

“They say someone here in Cornwall is in league with French smugglers who have an old quarrel with him. Someone mentioned the name
Le Renardeau,
but …”

He shrugged. “I’ve heard the name, but only fantastic things, ma’am, like droll-tellers’ tales. Ain’t no one ever claimed to see this Renardo, neither. I warrant as how they made him up out o’ whole cloth so as to have someone else to blame when—”

“When what, Cubert? What are they going to do? Sir Antony wants to know.”

Cubert grimaced, glanced out the window, then back at the half-open door. Stepping to the door, he looked into the hall, then shut it firmly before he turned back and said, “Miss Charley, I always thought you had a good head on your shoulders and was less likely than any female I ever knowed to fly into a fuss without cause.”

“Cubert, I’m trying very hard to be patient. What do you know?”

A wry smile twisted his lips, but the wary look that accompanied it told her he had no wish to make her angry. He said, “Happen there be a ship in jeopardy tonight, Miss Charley. B’ain’t the Duke’s ship, howsomever, and if Sir Antony goes blundering about, not knowing what’s o’clock, as you might say, he’s bound to come to grief.”

“Good mercy, Sir Antony is out there somewhere, very likely risking his life to discover what threat exists against the Duke of Wellington, and here you stand telling me there
is
no such risk. Who are they after if not Wellington?”

“Merchantman, miss, from Biscay. Michael Peryllys and his lot mean to wreck her in St. Merryn’s Bay or on Devil’s Sand. But it ain’t just that, Miss Charley. They say Michael set someone to watching of Sir Antony since the business over our Jen—said we never had no trouble till he came into Cornwall—and if Sam Corlan’s a-building up a fire for the night, ’tis my belief he’s in on it with the lot of them.”

“Sam is following Sir Antony’s orders,” Charley said, hoping that was so, and that she and Antony had not played into Michael’s hands. The thought that he had set a man to watch Antony sent chills up her spine. “How will they do it?” she demanded. “There’s little wind, and if the fog comes in, they’ll be as hampered as anyone else.”