Anne Ashley (7 page)

‘Well, perhaps you’re right,’ he at last conceded. ‘All the
same, if I were a Customs’ Riding officer in these parts, and just happened to
step inside that shop, I would certainly wonder.’

The inference was clear. ‘Smuggling, you mean? Oh, surely not!
Mary would never accept…’

Briony’s words died on her lips as she recalled again that
visit to the shop just a few short weeks before, and her friend’s strange
unwillingness to display a bolt of dark-blue silk.

‘Well, I sincerely hope you’re wrong, Luke. All the same, I
remember Sam Dent telling me that his own father was engaged in smuggling many
years ago and the Manor itself was used to store goods at one time.’

He glanced at her keenly, then smiled. ‘Told you that old tale,
too, did he?’

‘Do you think it could be true?’

He shrugged, seeming indifferent. ‘Who can say? I wouldn’t be
at all surprised if smuggling still went on along the coast. But I know for sure
Aunt Lavinia was never involved in the illicit trade or accepted smuggled
goods.’

‘Well, of course not!’ Briony wholeheartedly agreed. ‘And I
cannot believe Mary would do so either,’ she added.

All the same, a seed of doubt had been sown.

Chapter Five

L
ater that same day Luke took yet another
stroll round to the stables. It had been a favourite haunt of his as a boy, a
place to which he could escape whenever he fancied a break from his tutor.

He had two reasons for making this, his second visit of the
day. Naturally he wished to satisfy himself as to the condition of all his prime
livestock, some of which had been obliged to travel very many miles in order to
reach their new home. Equally important, though, he wished to consult with his
late aunt’s excellent groom.

Little more than a youth himself at the time, Samuel Dent had
been instrumental in nurturing Luke’s love of horses. It was true enough that
the young Sam had placed him on his first pony. All the same, Luke recalled
quite clearly that it had been the young groom’s extensive knowledge of local
customs, as much as his expertise with horses, that had fuelled his liking for
the servant’s companionship in those bygone years.

He ran his quarry to earth in the smaller stable, where Sam was
busily grooming a fine chestnut mare. He took a moment to run his hand along the
horse’s withers and nodded in approval.

‘A fine animal, Sam… Your young mistress’s, no doubt?’

‘That she be, sir. A present from Lady Ashworth. Right fond of
Miss Briony, so she was. Paid a tidy sum for the mare. But worth every penny.
Nice-natured creature, she be, but don’t lack spirit. Much like Miss Briony
’ersef, yer might say!’ Sam chuckled impishly, then seemed to recall to whom he
was speaking and cast a sheepish glance up at his new master. ‘Beg pardon, sir.
Keeps forgetting you and Miss Briony be wed. Takes time to get used to changes,
’specially those that ’appen so fast.’

‘Indeed it does, Sam,’ Luke agreed, somehow managing to
maintain his own countenance. ‘And, strangely enough, it’s for that reason I
wish to consult with you now. Perhaps if you could break off from what you’re
doing for a few minutes, we could discuss certain matters.’

Luke led the way outside to the wooden bench where he had sat
countless times with Sam all those years before, and waited only for the groom
to make himself comfortable beside him and begin pulling on his pipe, before
coming straight to the point of his visit.

‘I wished to make it clear to you, Sam, that you and you alone
remain responsible here. You’ll find my young groom Joe hardworking and keen to
learn, but he has nowhere enough experience yet to be placed in charge.’

Surprisingly Sam betrayed little gratification in learning
this. ‘But what about that man Carey o’ yourn, sir…? Won’t ’e be a mite put out
to discover ’e be working under me?’

‘Well, strictly speaking, he won’t be, Sam. Ben Carey is more
of a personal servant.’ Luke raised his eyes and stared at some distant spot.
‘His coat covers many duties and he’s directly responsible to me. For the most
part he’ll remain over at the lodge, taking care of the stallion. But I don’t
doubt from time to time he’ll wander over this way to enjoy some company and
offer you a helping hand.’

Luke saw at a glance that the man beside him appeared much more
contented. He then bethought himself of something else. ‘Now, I recall you also
helped about the place, doing odd jobs, most especially in the garden. Obviously
you won’t have much time for that any more. You’ll be occupied here for the most
part, caring for the extra livestock, so I think it behoves me to employ more
labour. You don’t happen to know of someone suitable, by any chance—a reliable
lad who isn’t afraid of hard work?’

‘’Appen I do, Master Luke. There be a local farm-labourer’s lad
ready to leave the nest, as t’were. ’Is pa’s a good, ’ardworking soul, so
there’s no reason to suppose the lad won’t turn out much the same.’

‘Get the father to bring the boy here and we’ll take things
further. There’s room enough above the stables if he’s a mind to live at the
Manor. I expect it’s overcrowded at his parents’ cottage, if it’s anything like
most labourers’ dwellings.’

Sam merely nodded in response. He wasn’t loquacious by nature,
not unless one happened to touch on a subject that interested him. Then he could
be a mine of very useful information. ‘I knew I could rely on you,’ Luke
remarked, when the older man continued to sit quietly, seeming to meditate on
life. ‘Not much goes on in these parts that escapes you. I remember you spinning
me all those yarns about smuggling years ago. Seems you’ve been telling my wife
much the same.’

‘No such thing, sir!’ Sam refuted. ‘True as I sit ’ere, the
tales I tells you both. They do say the Manor were built on the smuggling trade.
The man who ’ad the place built were a right bad lot, by all accounts. Cut yer
throat as soon as look at yer, so ’e would. They be all a rough lot still. Them
say that once yer in with the gentlemen there’s no getting away from ’em,
leastways not alive.’

Luke kept his gaze averted, thereby concealing the keen glint
in his eyes from his companion. ‘You don’t for a moment think it still goes
on?’

Sam sniffed loudly. ‘No reason to s’ppose it don’t, sir. We’re
within spitting distance of the coast, after all. And there be some rough sorts
’ereabouts. But I don’t get mixed up wi’ it.’

‘No, and neither did my aunt. I never discovered any hoards of
contraband stored about the place. And I searched the Manor from attic to
cellar, let me tell you, every inch of the place.’

Sam chuckled again at this. ‘Well, you were always a downy one,
sir.’

‘That’s as may be. And maybe I haven’t changed all that much. I
just hope my bride doesn’t indulge in such tomfoolery.’

‘Shouldn’t think so, sir. She didn’t seem much interested.’

Luke suppressed a satisfied smile at learning this as he rose
to his feet. ‘I think I just might take a walk into the village to reacquaint
myself with the place, and maybe call in at the vicarage, now that I’m settled
in at the Manor again, so to speak.’

* * *

Glancing out of her bedchamber window, Briony chanced to
catch sight of Luke making his way through the extensive rose garden. Starting
to look its best, it was an exquisite area of visual delights and heady
perfumes, an ideal setting for lovers. But that was something she and Luke were
not. Yet, they might so easily have become so, she reflected, experiencing anew
vastly contrasting feelings on the previous night’s events.

From what he’d said earlier that day, she had gained the
distinct impression he would not have been averse to a marriage in the full
sense between them. His unexpected appearance in her bedchamber the previous
night was testament enough to that, of course. Yet, she didn’t suppose for a
moment he had suddenly fallen in love with her. No, it was much more likely that
he possibly felt that one day he would be obliged to marry, if only to produce
an heir, and that she would be suitable for the role of life’s helpmeet. After
all, she was of good birth. Also, to be fair, perhaps she, mistakenly, had given
the impression that she would be willing to fulfil all her duties as a wife.

From the moment she had agreed to a marriage between them, she
had gone out of her way to be as obliging as possible, falling in with his
wishes for the most part in the hope of making their brief union as pleasant as
possible. Therefore she could hardly hold him entirely to blame for the previous
night’s misunderstanding and felt it was very much to his credit that he had
received his congé with such a good grace. She didn’t doubt for a moment she had
been right to deny him. After all, a marriage without love was doomed to
failure, surely? Try as she might, though, she couldn’t quite silence the tiny
voice that had continued to berate her for dismissing him in such a childishly
thoughtless fashion.

Sighing, she watched Luke disappear through the gateway in the
garden wall and fleetingly wondered where he was bound. All the same, she had no
intention of attempting to discover the answer. She couldn’t deny she had
enjoyed his company very much during their journey to and back from the town.
Surprisingly so! He had proved himself to be both a charming and entertaining
companion. Even so, she felt she must guard against giving the impression that
she craved his company, which might so easily result in more misunderstanding
between them.

Not only that, their jaunt into the town had given her much to
think about. Consequently, after donning a lightweight shawl, she left the Manor
by way of the front entrance in the hope their paths would not cross.

Without conscious thought she turned left out of the gate and
made her way down the winding village street towards the church, absently
acknowledging the greeting from an occasional passing villager as she did so,
whilst her mind remained focused on that one unnerving question—could Luke’s
suspicions about Mary be right?

Not for a moment did Briony suppose that Mary herself was
actively involved in the illegal trade. She was far too law-abiding for that. On
the other hand, though, she was also extremely loyal, not to mention touchingly
devoted, to that great ox of a brother of hers, Briony reminded herself. And
Will, by Mary’s own admission, had been keeping some decidedly unsavoury company
of late. Could that company indeed be smugglers?

It was not inconceivable, she decided a moment later. But that
didn’t automatically mean, surely, that Mary’s shop was now stocked to the
rafters with smuggled goods? No, she simply couldn’t believe it! Mary had said
she had been making dresses for a number of fashionable ladies in recent weeks
and, as a consequence of this unexpected surge in custom, had invested in some
bolts of fine materials, Briony clearly remembered. All the same, that little
niggling doubt refused to be quashed.

Again and again that bolt of exquisite blue silk flashed before
her mind’s eye. She couldn’t forget, either, Mary’s evasiveness and initial
reluctance to display the goods. Yes, that material might well be contraband.
Which meant, of course, that she herself would be parading round in smuggled
goods whenever she donned that lovely blue gown, which she had discovered a
short time earlier fitted beautifully and suited her so very well. And, in
truth, she would dislike intensely being accused of encouraging the illegal
trade by purchasing smuggled goods. The alternative, though, would be never to
wear it, which would surely arouse Janet’s suspicions, as she had been the one
to hang it in the wardrobe.

She began to gnaw at her bottom lip, wondering whether she
should confide her suspicions to Luke, only to dismiss the notion as ludicrous a
moment later. She didn’t suppose for a moment he would wish to concern himself
in the domestic concerns of a female whose existence he had all but forgotten,
especially as there was no real proof that Mary had accepted smuggled goods.
Furthermore, what possible interest could Luke have in the unlawful trade, or
how much of it was conducted along the Dorset coastline? He had sense enough to
realise that it still went on, of course, as he had proved beyond doubt by his
comments after visiting Mary’s shop. No, best thrust it from her mind and forget
about the whole business, she decided, only to catch sight of the object of her
thoughts a moment later as she entered the churchyard.

Her reaction was instinctive. Fearing he might suppose she had
been following him, she hid behind the sturdy trunk of the giant yew tree that
spread its huge branches across half the churchyard, providing shade for so many
of its occupants. She remained concealed until she clearly detected the sound of
a firm tread on gravel leaving the peaceful spot. Only then did she risk peering
from behind her hiding place, thankfully to find the graveyard deserted of any
living soul, save for herself.

Curious to discover just what had appeared to hold his interest
so avidly, she wandered across to where she believed Luke had stood when she had
come upon him unexpectedly. Larger, and more ornately carved than the
surrounding edifices, the headstone marked the last resting place of Edward
Leary, none other than the person who had had the Manor erected over a century
before. No other name appeared on the stone, for Master Leary had never married.
On his death the Manor had become the property of a distant relative and had
subsequently been sold. Several other families had lived there down the years,
making slight alterations to the original building, before Lady Ashworth had
made it her home.

Instinctively Briony’s eyes turned to the spot in the
churchyard where her beloved godmother now rested and walked slowly towards it.
As she drew closer she saw a single pink rose, one she recognised at once as
having come from the garden at the Manor, placed close to the headstone. Had
Luke put it there…? Undoubtedly he had.

Not for the first time Briony shook her head, quite unable to
comprehend the man she had married. For reasons only he knew he had not
attempted to attend Lady Ashworth’s funeral. Yet the proof of his genuine
fondness and respect for his aunt was there on the ground, clear for anyone to
see.

* * *

‘I think it’s time we entertained,’ Luke remarked,
joining Briony in the parlour that evening. ‘Yes, I’m sure you consider it far
too soon after my aunt’s death,’ he went on, thereby proving he had accurately
interpreted the reason for her slight frown. ‘I, on the other hand, refuse to be
ruled by needless convention. Besides which, I think it’s time I rubbed
shoulders again with some of the local gentry and became acquainted with a few
neighbours.’

‘Had you anyone particular in mind?’ she asked, having quickly
accepted that he was determined to have his way in this matter.

He shrugged, causing the material of his impeccably cut jacket
to strain across impressive shoulders for a second or two. ‘The local vicar and
his wife, naturally. By the by, I called in to see them this afternoon, just to
learn about local events and discover who has recently moved into the area. They
seemed to hold the new practitioner in high regard.’