Devil's Prize (18 page)

Her dark glossy hair was held off her face by a satin ribbon the same primrose shade as her long-sleeved gown of figured muslin. The low neckline would have revealed a considerable amount of décolletage but for the folds of fine white lawn that reached to her throat.

Though briefly disappointed he approved of her modesty. It seemed her mother’s efforts to turn this wild minx into a lady were at last succeeding. Tamara’s propriety of dress and demeanour in public would make the activity in their bedroom all the more exciting. At the stirring in his groin he crossed his legs and swiftly banished thoughts he would indulge later when he was alone.

‘May I say how well you look, Miss Gillis. I am no expert on ladies’ fashion, but that is a most becoming gown.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

He felt a stab of irritation at her colourless tone. Looking more closely he saw that her cheeks, usually glowing with vitality, were today creamy pale. His irritation transferred itself to her mother. While he had no objection to Tamara being made aware of the honour of his proposal, this insipidity was not what he had expected, nor did he find it at all pleasing.

‘Mrs Gillis –’

Morwenna shot to her feet. ‘Please excuse me, Mr Varcoe. I will just see if my husband has returned. I have been expecting him this past half hour.’ She turned to her daughter. ‘Tamara, perhaps our guest would care to take a turn in the garden?’

As the garden, a narrow stretch of grass with a small rose bed in the middle, lay between the house and the boatyard with all its attendant noise, Thomas desired no such thing. ‘Another time perhaps,’ he said firmly. ‘The air is a touch chilly today, and I would not wish Miss Gillis to take cold.’

Reaching the door, Morwenna glanced back, her smile so wide it was almost a grimace. ‘Then I will leave you to talk here by the fire.’

It was obvious to Thomas that she wished him to make an offer and had left Tamara alone with him for that purpose. In other circumstances such blatant manoeuvring would have annoyed him. Today, however, it made things easier. Even so he waited until he heard her footsteps fade. He wouldn’t have put it past her to listen at the door. He cleared his throat.

‘Miss Gillis – Tamara – I know this is perhaps not the best moment –’

Her head came up and she met his gaze for the first time since he had entered the room. ‘You’ve had news? Of – of your brother, and the crew?’

Put off his stride by her interruption he frowned. ‘No.’ Then, remembering that appearances demanded some sign of grief and regret, he bent his head. ‘No, alas. But I have to resign myself to the knowledge that even if my brother survived the attack and seizure of his boat, the court will demand the ultimate penalty.’ He waited, allowing time for her to realise that Devlin wasn’t coming back. When he looked up he was startled to see her watching him. She was even paler, but her eyes were dry, and he saw no hint of a quiver to her lips. He decided this was a positive sign, and uncrossing his legs, leaned forward.

‘Miss Gillis, my dear Miss Gillis, I would not have wished it this way, but my brother’s untimely passing means that as his next of kin, I will inherit all his estate. This responsibility would be so much easier to bear had I the support of a wife to whom I could turn for comfort. Your mother has led me to believe that an offer of marriage would be favourably received. So all that remains is for me to assure you of my deepest –’ He stopped as Tamara rose quickly from her chair.

‘Forgive me, Mr Varcoe.’ Crossing to the window she stood for a moment then turned to face him. ‘Before you say anything else, there is something I must tell you.’

Thomas sat back and fiddled with his cuffs as he tried to contain his irritation. ‘I must assume it is important. Otherwise such rudeness would be hard to tolerate.’ He saw her throat work as she swallowed.

‘I am with child.’

He stared at her. ‘No.’ Shock, disbelief and fury churned in his chest. His heartbeat hammered in his ears and there was a metallic taste in his mouth.

‘I could not accept you without first –’

‘Your mother knew?’ Thomas’s voice cracked. As Tamara nodded he passed a hand across his face.

‘She was trying to protect –’

Thomas clung to hope. ‘You were attacked?’ He could accept that. God knew there were plenty of rough characters around the village. And when they were in drink – though what she’d have been doing, out alone at night? Though it might not have been night. She rode alone on the moor. What if some of the tinners …?

‘Tell me his name,’ he demanded. ‘I’ll have him thrashed to within an inch of his life. We can deal with this privately. There is no need to involve –’

‘Stop.’ It was the weariness in her voice that silenced him.

‘I was not attacked.’

‘Not … Then what –? Who –?’

She swallowed again, her calm fractured by fleeting anguish. In that instant he knew. He wanted to block his ears, make it untrue. It wasn’t fair.

‘Your brother,’ she said quietly. ‘The child is Devlin’s.’

All the bitterness, resentment, and jealousy that had coloured his every thought since the day his mother died giving birth to his brother raged through him. His entire body shuddered and he clamped lips and teeth tight so the howl of grief and fury that filled his head would not escape. He wanted to smash, break, kill.

Yet despite hating that she had Devlin’s brat in her belly, he still wanted her. He wanted possession and control. He wanted to sate himself on her body and tame her spirit. He wanted people knowing she was his.

Devlin was dead – or as good as. Once the child was born it could be got rid of. There were ways. In the meantime, proceeding with the marriage would save her family from disgrace. They would owe him. And by Christ he’d see that they paid. As for Tamara, as his wife she was his property to do with as he chose. Thinking up new ways to punish her would give him almost as much pleasure as carrying them out. Another tremor shook him and he caught his breath just as Tamara spoke.

‘You will not wish to –’

‘On the contrary.’ Rising from the sofa, Thomas crossed the room and took her cold hand in both of his. ‘You need me.’ As he brushed her knuckles with his lips the door opened. Morwenna stood on the threshold. Her smile was coy but her eyes were wary. He had been flattered by her effusive greeting. Only now did he understand the panic that that underlay it. Oh yes, they would pay.

Chapter Eighteen

Jenefer pulled the candle closer, resting her head on one hand as she added up the column of figures again, hoping this time the totals would match. Her eyes felt gritty and her head ached. But she was almost finished. If she could complete the work tonight she could take everything to Hannah in the morning.

To finish and be paid would mean one less worry. She was so tired, and it was weeks since she had slept right through the night. The moment she closed her eyes and tried to relax she was tormented by memories: arguments with her father, the fire, Martin’s proposal, the pilchard cellar, Hannah Tresidder’s back room, the packet clerk telling her that Martin hadn’t gone to America.

Vivid random snatches, they flared like fireworks, denying her rest, waking her with fear and a racing heart.

Blinking then widening her tired eyes she focused on the figures. She heard a brief sound and assumed it was Ernestine next door. But it came again she realised someone was knocking very quietly on the door.

Putting down her pen she rose from her chair then hesitated. Who would come calling at this time of night? Unless something was wrong. Betsy? Crossing to the door she lifted the bar and opened it. She gasped as Devlin caught her arm, whirled her inside and closed the door again.

Shock made Jenefer light-headed. Reaching blindly for the chair, she was pressed down into it and a cup pushed into her hands.

‘Drink,’ Devlin ordered.

She obeyed. Cold water soothed her parched throat and cleared her vision. She looked up at him. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t expect to see – your brother said there’d been a chase – the Revenue cutter – and you were probably dead, or if not –’

‘Thomas told you?’

Jenefer nodded.

‘When? Where?’

‘Yesterday. He came here. He wanted a key to your loft.’

Devlin frowned. ‘Why would he come to you?’

Heat climbing her throat to her cheeks, Jenefer glanced away angry as well as embarrassed. ‘He made assumptions about my living here.’

‘He would.’ Devlin’s tone was scathing.

‘If you remember, I did warn –’

‘Yes, you did.’ He frowned again. ‘How did he hear about the chase?’

‘I don’t know. From one of the landing party maybe? When you didn’t return –’ She stopped as Devlin shook his head.

‘They wouldn’t have gone to the cove until the signal was given. Never mind that now. I need you to take a message to Jared Sweet.’

Jenefer gaped at him. ‘It’s far too late to go visiting. Everyone will be in bed. In any case Betsy is ill and Inez has forbidden callers.’

‘For God’s sake!’ Devlin raked his hair in frustration. ‘Stop being so difficult. I know it’s late. That’s the point. I’d go myself but I dare not risk being seen. I must get hold of Jared.’

‘Why?’ Jenefer demanded, anxious on Betsy’s behalf. ‘What do you want him for?’

As he paced two steps one way then two steps back, clearly battling with himself over whether to tell her, Jenefer’s fear mounted.

He turned to her so abruptly that she jumped. ‘All right. Perhaps you should know. But you cannot tell anyone. Not until we’re back. Do you understand?’

‘Tell anyone what? Back from where?’

‘France. But I have only half my crew. The others are being held in gaol to ensure my return. That’s why I need Jared.’

‘Why are you going to France? You’ve only just –’

‘To rescue a British government agent.’

‘Why you? Why –’

‘Because I know him by sight. It’s Erisey.’

Jenefer heard the name but it took a moment for all the implications to register. ‘Martin Erisey?’

Devlin nodded. ‘Bringing him back safely to England will buy our freedom. Now will you take the message?’

The blood pounding in her ears, Jenefer gulped water. Martin a government agent? A spy? That would explain his long absence, the lack of letters. But he’d said he was a diplomat. He had lied to her from the beginning. All right, so the danger of his job demanded it. But where did that leave her? If he had lied about his work, what else had he lied about?

Devlin was risking his life to rescue Martin because there was no other way to obtain his crew’s release or his own liberty. But if they all got back safely, what then? Martin had made an offer for her, so he must have intended marriage. He had spent these past months risking his life for his country. All this raced through her mind in moments leaving just one thought. Like Devlin, she had no choice. She had to help. Decisions about her future must wait.

She set down the cup and rose to her feet. ‘Yes, of course.’ While she put on hat, coat, and boots, Devlin gave her instructions.

‘If your sister has taken Jared’s room, he’ll be on a truckle bed in the front room. You must wake him without disturbing anyone else.’

‘I understand.’ Jenefer’s fingers trembled as she tied her laces, and nervousness made her voice strained. ‘What do you want me to tell him?’

‘He’s to meet me as soon as possible.’

‘Where?’

‘He’ll know, and it’s safer if you don’t. I’ll leave now. After I’ve gone close the door quietly and count to twenty. Then you go.’ 

Obeying his instructions she waited in the shadows at the mouth of the alley for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Then she hurried along the empty street. This end of the village was deserted. But she would cut through the narrow cobbled alleys to avoid the men coming out of the Five Mackerel.

She thought about the risk Devlin was taking sailing with only half his crew. But at least they were all alive.

Tamara wouldn’t know that. Jenefer recalled the gossip she had overheard in the shop about Tamara and Devlin, the rumour that Tamara was in trouble. Betsy had always defended her friend, praising her kindness and her artistic ability. But she had been unable or – as she now recognised – unwilling to see past Tamara’s apparently reckless behaviour, condemning her as wild and irresponsible.

But these past weeks her own life had changed. She had changed. She had shot a tinner, worked – ineptly – in a stinking pilchard cellar, and bargained herself into a job. She had discovered more than was comfortable about her own limitations and gained insight into the lives of the village women.

Without Lizzie Clemmow, Ernestine Rowse and Hannah Tresidder she would be in desperate straits. She had no right to judge anyone. Nor could she allow Lizzie to continue worrying, fearing Sam was dead.

Waiting in the cave, Devlin tried to think ahead. An overcast sky veiled the quarter moon making the lugger difficult to spot. But the lack of wind worried him. They’d have to use the sweeps. Fortunately the pins were padded with oakum so the long oars wouldn’t rattle. But with the crew already short of sleep, prolonged rowing would exhaust them before they got anywhere near the French coast. He could only hope that once away from land and into deep water they would pick up a breeze.

Alerted by the faint clink of a falling pebble he pressed back against the cave wall. A darker shadow moved across the entrance. Then he heard a whisper.

‘Dev?’

‘Here.’ Pushing himself away from the rock, Devlin extended his arm and a moment later Jared’s huge hand clasped his.

‘What’s on?’

Grateful for Jared’s brevity, Devlin told him all that had happened.

‘Sam, Ben and Joe will be held in Bodmin until we bring Erisey back.’

‘You trust Casvellan?’

‘What choice do I have? But yes, I do.’

‘Where are the others?’

‘Aboard the lugger, in the next cove. Jared, I need you with us.’ Having explained the urgency of the situation, Devlin anticipated swift agreement. But as Jared remained silent, Devlin’s surprise turned to angry disappointment.

‘Lost your nerve? If that’s what love does –’ He bit the words off, instantly ashamed, not understanding what had prompted them.

Hearing Jared’s intake of breath he waited for the tongue-lashing he knew he deserved.

‘What would you know about love?’

Jared’s scorn made him even angrier. Clamping down on his temper and other emotions he dared not acknowledge, he forced himself to be calm.

‘It’s small compensation for the risk, but I’m paying triple the rate for a smuggling run. Surely a man planning to marry by special licence needs all the money he can get?’ He was putting Jared in an intolerable position. But he had no choice. Jared was worth two men. Without him they had little hope of success. Even with him the entire venture was a desperate gamble.

 ‘When are you going?’

‘Now.’

‘Jesus, Devlin!’

Devlin knew what was on Jared’s mind. Betsy had lost her father and her home. Jared was her security, her future. But when she woke in the morning he would have disappeared and she’d have no idea where he’d gone or if he would return. He thrust the thought aside.

‘We have to go now.’ He couldn’t hide his urgency. ‘Someone is bound to notice the lugger is missing and we need to be halfway across the Channel by then.’ Damn it, in all the years they had been running contraband he had always brought them back. Why should this trip be any different? They could do it. Then, once they were home – He tried to imagine then but couldn’t. The pictures wouldn’t come. Refusing to worry and unable to stand the thickening silence he pressed on.

‘Casvellan has provided food, ale and blankets. The only thing we’re short of is wet weather gear. The cutter’s crew kept ours.’ He took a breath. ‘So, are you in or out?’

‘In. But this is the last –’

‘Don’t,’ Devlin interrupted, strain roughening his voice. ‘Please.’ He had damaged their friendship, perhaps irreparably. Yet what could he have done different? ‘Let’s get this over first. Then we can talk –’

‘Nothing more to say.’ Jared’s murmur was lost in the darkness.

Spooning up stew, Thomas chased each mouthful with a gulp of brandy, and brooded. He wouldn’t have thought it possible to hate his brother any more than he already did. But Tamara telling him she was with child by Devlin had added a new and bitter dimension to his loathing. Had she been raped he wouldn’t have minded so much. Knowing she had resisted and been overpowered would have been some small comfort. Damn him. Damn them both. Why couldn’t she have lied?

Raised voices and a clatter of booted feet in the passage brought his head up as Willie Grose burst in through the door.

‘What the hell –?’ Thomas roared.

‘Hark a minute,’ Willie panted. ‘Wait till you hear what I got to say. Be glad I come over, you will.’

‘Get on with it then,’ Thomas snarled.

‘I just come from the Five Mackerel. One of Casvellan’s stable lads was in supping ale while he waited for a carthorse to be shod. We got talking and he said he’d seen the prison cart arrive this morning and three of your brother’s crew was put aboard in chains.’

‘What d’you mean, three? He usually sails with –’

‘That’s all there was, just the three. Sam Clemmow, Ben Tozer, and Joe Ince.’

‘What about my brother? Wasn’t he –?’

‘See, that’s what’s strange. The boy said he seen your brother yesterday. Afternoon it was, and him guarded by two dragoons. One had a pistol pointed at ’n. But he never got in the wagon. The boy haven’t seen hide nor hair of ’n since. ‘

Not dead, and not on his way to gaol. So where was Devlin? Fear made Thomas queasy. The food and brandy curdling in his stomach, Thomas pushed his plate away, threw down his napkin, and rose from the table.

‘That bit o’ news have got to be worth the price of a drink or two,’ Willie said. ‘Go back again, shall I? See if there’s any word about where the others is to?’

Taking coins from the cache in the side-table, Thomas dropped them into Willie’s dirt-ingrained palm. ‘Find out what you can, but keep your mouth shut.’

Within the hour Thomas was astride his horse and riding hard for Porthleven. Despite the air’s chilly bite he arrived at the harbour sweating profusely. Not from the activity, but dread of what Devlin would do if he learned who had betrayed him. Pausing outside the Customs House he removed his beaver hat and wiped his forehead and upper lip with a handkerchief. After taking a few moments to compose himself he entered the building.

As an anxious clerk opened the door to Eddy’s office, Thomas saw the supervisor sitting behind his desk, his face dark red with anger. Anger that would be turned on him unless he was quick to deflect it.

‘Well, Mr Eddy.’ Tucking his hat under his arm he tugged off his York tan gloves and slapped them against his thigh. ‘I have been hearing the wildest stories.’

‘I daresay you have, sir. And they are no stranger than the truth. All that money!’ He slammed his hand onto the desk, making Thomas flinch. ‘And nothing to show for it. Not a single cask. They dumped the lot over the side. But at least I had prisoners. Where are they now? Tell me that! Gone, that’s where!’ he snarled before Thomas had a chance to say a word.

‘Casvellan sent a letter.’ Eddy rummaged among the mess of papers on his desk. ‘Ordered me to have them brought to Trescowe under guard. He’s the justice so I couldn’t argue. I couldn’t have kept them here anyway. Where am I supposed to hold six prisoners? And now the boat’s gone as well. It was here last night. Now it’s gone. I’ve had men out asking. Waste of time. Nobody saw anything. They never do. That boat would have fetched a tidy sum at auction. Even sharing it with the cutter’s captain and crew, I would have recouped something. Where did it go? Who’s had it?’

Thomas’s mind raced, fuelled first by terror then by fury. ‘I think I know,’ he spoke through gritted teeth. ‘Casvellan ordered the crew taken to him? He’s sending them to Roscoff for contraband.’

‘Casvellan?’ Eddy frowned as he considered. ‘I’d be very surprised. I’ve never met the man, but from what I’ve heard he’s straight as a die. Nothing’s been said to me about him being involved with the trade.’

‘Exactly,’ Thomas retorted, convinced now. What other explanation could there be? ‘No one would ever suspect him. Why else would he have kept Devlin Varcoe out of gaol?’

Eddy’s head came up, his eyes sharp with curiosity. ‘How do you know that?’

‘I have my sources,’ Thomas sat back. ‘For instance, I know that of the six men taken under guard to Casvellan’s house, only three were put aboard the prison wagon this morning. Where are the other three? And where is Devlin Varcoe? They were all at Trescowe yesterday. Now they’ve vanished. I’m telling you, Casvellan has them making a run.’