Delsie (18 page)

“A good idea. We’ll look for more gold too.”

“A waste of time, as you mean to give it away,” he pointed out.

She got her pelisse and bonnet, and they went to investigate the orchard for a possible place of concealment. They found no further bags of gold, nor any spot that appeared suitable for hiding some considerable quantity of brandy. “They were surely not so brazen as to leave it sitting under the trees, in plain sight,” Delsie said uncertainly.

“I cannot think so. The Cottage is too close to the road. They usually use a much better hiding place—an abandoned building, an old barn, or an excavation where some building has burned down—something that offers a good hiding place. They would never stand it in a field and leave it. The deliveries might be a few nights in the doing, and to leave it exposed to the naked eye—no. That cannot be it.”

“Perhaps they took it through the orchard to the fields beyond,” Delsie mentioned, casting her eyes thence.

“They better not! If that is the case, they have been using
my
land for their work.” He walked through to the end of the orchard, where the rank grass was undisturbed. A wild, natural thicket had been allowed to spring up at the point that separated deVigne’s land from that set off for Louise and Andrew when the Cottage had been built, and there was no break in it. The unmolested state of the vegetation was proof that no regular traffic had come this way. Delsie followed after him. They exchanged a look that required no words.

“We
can’t
be wrong,” Delsie stated firmly as they retraced their steps to the orchard. “I am sure they bring the brandy here, to this orchard. But then what do they do with it? There are plenty of signs of traffic here, in the orchard, you see. The grass is all trampled down.”

“You’ve been here a few times yourself, and I saw Bristcombe in here the other day as well, the day we went shopping in Questnow.”

“The day I found the first bag of gold! He was out looking for it. It was only Bobbie’s waking me so early that morning that led me to it before him. Bristcombe and I did not hold a dance in the orchard, however, and it would take heavy traffic to account for this degree of wear on the grass. It was smugglers and donkeys that did it.”

They both looked around at the thirty trees, two of which were noticeably smaller than others. “Mrs. Bristcombe told Bobbie these two are the pixie trees,” Delsie said, pointing to the runted ones. “As the pixies are smugglers, these two trees must have something to do with it. She said they were worth more than all the others put together.”

“That rather looks as though your housekeeper and non-butler are in on it.”

“It doesn’t surprise me in the least. I knew them for a pair of renegades the minute I set foot in the house. And the old she-devil so kindly making up the
guest
room for me on the far side of the house, away from the orchard.”

“Calling you ‘miss’ into the bargain,” he reminded her with a quizzing look. “Thoughtful of her; she didn’t want your rest disturbed.”

“I begin to wonder if your aren’t in league with them. Telling me I should not turn them off.”

“Only suggesting! It cannot have escaped your notice I never
tell
you anything, since you informed me you like to run your own ship. And I would hardly be cadging Andrew’s brandy from you if I had easy access to a cargo of my own.”

“Yes, you would, to blow smoke in my eyes.”

“You have a nasty, suspecting disposition, Mrs. Grayshott,” he informed her with a polite bow.

“I have need of it to deal with this position you have got me into.”

“I am very sorry I forced you into marriage with a law-breaker against your will and better judgment, but really, the matter is finished now. Can’t you try to forget it and settle into your new life with some small degree of pleasure?”

“There will be no pleasure till I have got this place cleaned up and have heard from Andrew’s creditors how much money I owe them. They will be pounding at my door today, I expect, when that notice you inserted in the papers is printed. Should I get money from the bank to pay them, or give them cheques?”

“Cheques will do. There is no need for you to go into town. Do you know, cousin, I have made a strange observation with regard to your marriage,” he said with a smile.

“If you have made only
one,
you cannot have given the matter much thought!” she answered tartly. “I dread to think the observations that are made in other quarters.”

“One subtle observation, that I doubt has been remarked elsewhere. Since we have leapt, the last few days, to the unfounded conclusion your late husband was a criminal, you appear to have grown fonder of him.”

“I hate the very mention of his name,” she objected.

“I wonder then what accounts for your calling him ‘Andrew’ now, when he used invariably to be referred to as ‘Mr. Grayshott.’”

“That doesn’t mean anything. Merely it is easier to say one word than two, and everyone else in the family calls him Andrew, so I have slipped into the habit without realizing it,”

“DeVigne is actually two words as well,” he pointed out. “The family call me Max, yet I noticed you have not slipped into the habit of calling
me
Max.”

She waited for him to suggest she do so, but as he did not, she merely agreed it was odd, and inquired when he would remove the incriminating barrels of brandy from the cellars, carefully adding the words “deVigne” in mid-sentence.

“I’ll have the girls who are to help you sent down in a gig, and it can carry the brandy back to the Hall,” he replied. “Shall I likewise remove the incriminating money from the vault, and put it in the bank?”

“If you would be so kind,” she answered promptly, disliking to accept so many favors from him, but assuaging her conscience that if it weren’t for him, she would not be in such a pickle.

The girls arrived before luncheon, the brandy was removed, and Mrs. Grayshott got down at last to the job of cleaning up her home. One girl was assigned to the master bedroom to do what she could with the havoc concealed behind that locked door, and the other was armed with beeswax, turpentine, and a quantity of cloths and brushes, to try to remove several years’ accumulation of dirt from the heavy furnishings of the saloon and dining room. They were young, cheerful, hard-working girls. Already by late afternoon the downstairs was looking better, with the furniture beginning to emit a dull glow, and the musty odor of a closed house somewhat lightened by the domestic smell of cleaning products. Through the front window, Delsie saw her husband’s carriages and horses being led out of the stable and up the lane to the Hall, and wondered how soon she might be expected to be in possession of her own carriage.

She wondered also, when she viewed her dining room, whether it might not be time for her to hold her first dinner party for the family. The only problem was to discover whether Mrs. Bristcombe, with the help of the two girls, was capable of putting on a full meal. Her luncheons and breakfasts did not lead one to suspect much in the way of culinary skills, though Bobbie had mentioned having better fare at dinner. Oh, dear, and the kitchen a shambles! That must be attended to before she invited company.

Dinner that evening was held at the Hall, at which time deVigne told Mrs. Grayshott that he had put her husband’s horses and equipment up for auction. The agent had mentioned a possible nine hundred pounds for the whole, which would provide her with a decent carriage and team for her own use. “I shall attend the auction and try if I can find a suitable turnout for you, if you trust my judgment. It would be ineligible for a lady to attend the auction.”

She agreed to this, specifying only that he must not spend a penny more than Andrew’s carriage and horses brought.

“Did you have any debtors at your door this afternoon, cousin?” he asked next. The notice had appeared in the afternoon paper, informing creditors to apply to her for payment.

“No, not yet, there has hardly been time. By tomorrow they should begin coming. I shall stay home to be ready to receive them.”

“Couldn’t you do that, Max?” Jane asked. “It will be unpleasant for Delsie to have to deal with the local merchants.”

He looked a question at her, but she firmly denied requiring help. This much, at least, she could do herself. “I have been dealing with them for years. They won’t try to pull the wool over my eyes,” she pointed out.

“I had thought you might have the dressmaker in tomorrow to get started on your and Bobbie’s gowns,” Jane mentioned. “I wanted to go to the Cottage and discuss it with you today, but my joints don’t let me about as much as I would like in this cold, miserable weather. We shall arrange it very soon.”

“I shall write Miss Pritchard in the village a note, asking her to come to me soon,” Delsie said, every bit as eager as Lady Jane to see her new gowns made up.

Over dinner, they discussed the various circumstances that led them to believe Andrew had been smuggling. “A scandal and a disgrace,” Sir Harold decreed. “Just the very sort of thing he would have got himself into. His Uncle Clancy over in Merton the same, only of course it is mainly silk
he
brings in. The ship he bought from Andrew was not large enough for brandy. I wonder it didn’t occur to me sooner.”

“Where did you hear this story, Harold?” his wife asked.

“Everyone says so,” he answered comprehensively, for he had no idea where he had picked up this rumor, though he had a fellow scholar in Merton whom he saw once a week to discuss philosophy.

“Strange we never heard a whisper of it, if it is true,” Jane objected. “How is it possible the servants haven’t been running to us with the story? It must have been done with the greatest secrecy.”

“The Cottage is in an ideal spot for it,” deVigne pointed out. “Well set off from any other houses, and close to the beach. No one would have expected a gentleman of Andrew’s background to lend himself to smuggling. With a really good place of concealment for the goods, he might have done it without too much trouble. He was at pains to be as unsociable as a bear. No one was encouraged to call, including ourselves. What stymies us is where he has been hiding it.”

“Taking it right into his own cellars,” Sir Harold said.

“That is taking more risk than was necessary. There would have been no possibility of avoiding the charge if he was really so foolish as that,” deVigne pointed out. “I cannot believe he took it into his own house.”

“The men I heard in the orchard did not come near the house itself,” Delsie said. “If they were removing the last load, as deVigne thinks, they were removing it from the orchard. I would have heard the commotion if they had been bringing it up from the cellars—the doors opening and so on. This last lot, at least, wasn’t in the house.”

“Right in the cellar,” Sir Harold persisted.

“No, Andrew was a scoundrel, but he wasn’t a fool,” deVigne objected.

“If he was smuggling for three years without anyone tumbling to it, he was sharp as a tack,” Jane declared, with a hint of admiration.

“It was a dashed rackety thing to do, but as I pointed out to Mrs. Grayshott, I almost hope that is the explanation for the bags of guineas, for at least it is over now,” deVigne said. “With Andrew dead, there will be no more smuggling, and she won’t be bothered with anyone in the orchard, or with unwanted bags of guineas.”

“I hope you may be right,” Delsie said.

That night she again had a visit from the pixies.

Chapter Fourteen

Mrs. Grayshott left the Hall early that evening. She had a busy day to look forward to herself, with her housecleaning and her creditors coming, but of more importance, Lady Jane was tired and wished an early night. Nine o’clock was an absurd hour to think of going to bed, but sitting alone in state in the saloon was not preferable. She would go to her room and read. When she passed Bobbie’s room, the lights were not yet put out, so she entered for a talk.

“We have a pleasant job to do tomorrow,” she began cheerfully. “We must go through pattern books and select designs for our new gowns, you and I.”

“I’ve already choosed mine. It’s got ribbons,” Bobbie said happily.

Miss Milne was with her, preparing the child for bed, and she too joined in the conversation. “I’ve been telling Mrs. Bristcombe for two months this child needs new clothes.”

“It’s early yet. Let us get my books and have a look at them now,” Delsie suggested. “Bobbie can stay up half an hour later for one night.”

The three girls enjoyed a pleasant perusal of the books. As Delsie arose to go to her own room, she heard the light patter of feet in the hallway. It was the two girls from the Hall, running down to the kitchen to make themselves a cup of cocoa before retiring.

“Would you care for one yourself, miss?” the elder, Nellie, asked with a respectful curtsy. Then her hand flew to her mouth. “I mean ma’am,” she corrected herself hastily. No resentment arose at the error on this occasion. The manner of it was not studied, as Mrs. Bristcombe’s had been.

“I’d like some,” Bobbie declared, while the older girls laughed at her transparent efforts to prolong her staying up. They were young enough themselves to sympathize with the desire, and though Mrs. Grayshott felt no need for cocoa after a late dinner, Miss Milne accepted, to keep her charge company. When the maids came back up ten minutes later, they bore three cups, saying Mrs. Bristcombe had insisted on one for Mrs. Grayshott as well.

“It’ll make you drowsy, ma’am,” the elder added. Being two years older than her mistress, she felt this liberty not too forward.

“Perhaps you’re right,” the lady agreed, and took it. Roberta was inclined to dawdle, with her new mama still in the room, and as it was now becoming late, Delsie took her cup on to her own room, to allow the governess to get Bobbie tucked up in her bed.

It was just ten o’clock when Delsie sat down on her chaise longue—she no longer thought of it as Louise’s room and possessions—to continue leafing through the fashion magazines. How luxurious it was to relax at one’s ease, considering future indulgences. Her eyes lingered long over the pages with ball gowns of bright hues, of riding habits and fancy peignoirs. She particularly envisioned herself in one gown of a soft mint-green, an Empress-line gown, with lace panels inset beneath the high waist, and pretty dark-green ribbons looping up the hem in swatches, with more lace showing beneath.