Endure My Heart (18 page)

We looked at the muslin lists first—he was preparing orders for spring. As I favored blue, he ran his finger down the list, stopping only at blue selections. “Blue checked on white ground,” he read. “No, we don’t want
squares
on you, interfering with nature’s curves. Sprigged muslin—now I wonder if it would be the right shade of blue for you.” A glance into the eyes—deep, meaningful. “Cornflower blue it should be, with just a hint of sapphire in this evening light. Funny how your eyes seem to get darker as the sun goes down.”

“You consign me to muslin, do you, Stanley? It will surprise you to hear I am planning on a silk gown for spring.”

“Excellent—an evening gown, you mean. I trust this means you are to make your debut at the local assembly rooms, and I shall get to—waltz with you yet. You remember I mentioned my reason for liking the waltz.”

“Yes, it gives you a chance to get your arms around all the girls.”

“Only you. You are the only one I shall waltz with.”

“Miss Trebar may have something to say about that.”

Andrew, who sat across the room working on his Sunday sermon, cocked up his head at the name. “Did you say something about Miss Trebar, Mab?”

“Only that she likes waltzing, Andrew.”

“Miracles never cease!” Williams said in a soft aside, with a very amused smile on his face. “Now who would have thunk it, that Andrew would take to that bold chit.”

“Does she indeed?” Andrew asked, continuing his interest in the matter for two whole statements, which, for Andrew, indicated a keen interest. “You must teach me to waltz sometime, Williams,” he went on, but that was the extent of it. He never mentioned it again.

“We shall have to look lively to beat him to the altar, if Sally has her claws into him,” Williams said, then went on with more compliments, heaping praise on my charms at every new page of the catalogue, while I egged him on, smiling and smirking like a Bath miss.

The visit to London was soon forgotten. It was good to be back among old friends and familiar places. Good too not to have to hand out a tip every time you turned around, and to be able to drive one’s gig without feeling like a Johnnie Trot, as Rose Marie described us provincial types. I even enjoyed going back to the schoolroom.

I need hardly say I took an exquisite pleasure in my Eyrie. We used it twice with good success (more than paying the year’s rent) and had no trouble from Williams. He was desperate to catch Miss Sage, so he could get back to Lady Lucy. This led him to take a rather unwise step. I heard of it Saturday when Rose Marie, who was now a frequent visitor to the town and an occasional one to the rectory, called on me.

“I’ve a bit of a problem, dearie,” she began, with a face that said she had a large problem. “It’s Williams, you see. He wants to call on me.”

This I had not foreseen. She was too old, and her charms too tired, for this to be a courting call. “What was his excuse?”

“He wants to see if he can find how the brandy is getting in. He plain out and confessed it. Not the whole thing, but he hinted how some gent in London would welcome a spot of help, and it would do him some good. How can I put him off without looking suspicious?”

“What did you say?”

“I said yes, but made it for Monday to give us a couple of days to think up an excuse to be rid of him.”

“We dare not let him go. I think Miss Simon must take a turn for the worse, and you send him a note tomorrow canceling.”

“The plague!” she exclaimed at once, indulging in her propensity for the dramatic. “That will keep him a mile away. The gentlemen used it once at Dover.”

“Too obvious. Besides, it would prevent your visits to town, Rose Marie, and you wouldn’t like that.”

“To be sure I would not. It’s quiet enough without losing my trips to town. Pearl is not lively company. She is not that happy here. I think she would like to return to service in London. But I can always jolly her into staying.”

“Please do, for the time being at least. What we’ll do is this,” I decided rapidly. “Stay away from church tomorrow— that will prepare Williams in advance for some trouble, then Monday morning send him a note by the higgler that Miss Simon is very ill. You’d better send for the doctor as well, for the looks of it. You are an actress—can you make her look ill with powder or chalk?”

“She doesn’t need much help,” was the answer. This was a reference to her sister’s refusal to paint, dye, curl or wear bright clothing.

“And Rose Marie—you had better keep that kitchen door well locked. I don’t want him slipping in unseen by you.”

“One of the lads got me a dog. He’s better company than Pearl.”

“Who, the lad?” I quizzed her. Rose Marie had set up a circle of beaux who called on her at the Eyrie, to lighten the tedium of her hours. I daresay Pearl was put out with this.

“No, the dog.”

On Sunday morning Rose Marie was not at church. Monday on my way to school I met Jem on his way to Owens’ shop with the note for Williams: He waved at me with a broad wink. “Poor Miss Simon is feeling poorly,” he said. After school, I stopped at the shop to confirm that Williams was not at the Eyrie.

When I saw him flirting with Miss Simpson, come all the way down from Felixstone for the purpose, I knew we were safe for the time being. Williams was of course a wicked flirt, but I assumed the majority of it was done in the spirit of gathering information for his work. I thought it was only myself he courted for enjoyment. He must have enjoyed it, or why did he come? I never told him a thing. It was despicable of him to carry on behind Lucy’s back— that goes without saying. Suddenly it seemed much worse for him to be carrying on with
two
other ladies. Really this was the outside of enough. There was nothing to be gained from Miss Simpson, a foreigner (in the Salford sense) who knew nothing about smuggling here.

When I saw the tape measure dangling from his fingers, and realized he had been measuring her up, I could contain my ire no longer. He looked surprised at the anger in my eyes. I made no effort to conceal it, but did think of an excellent manner to hide its cause.

“Miss Anderson,” he said, with a guilty look toward Miss Simpson, who nodded at me, then looked quickly away.

“Take your time, Mr. Williams. I am in no hurry, though I fear if Miss Simpson is looking for a belt, she is come to the wrong shop. Mr. Williams has none tiny enough to fit your waist, Miss Simpson,” I complimented her.

She laughed happily and confirmed the fact. Sally Trebar seemed suddenly less horrid as a potential sister-in-law. As though she wanted a belt! No lady ever wore such an item, and she could have got any length of ribbon she wanted cut off. She continued talking to him a little longer, not letting my impatience hurry her in the least. When at last she was gone, Williams came toward me, a little embarrassment lingering on his face.

“What’s the matter, Mab?” he asked. “I cannot be rude to the customers, you know.”

“Customers? You cannot think
that
is what I am angry about!” I exclaimed, displaying every element of well-simulated shock.

“What is it then?”

“You are going on with this business of trying to help that man in London—the man from the Board of Trade. Don’t  bother to deny it. I had a note from Miss Lock and she told me you had asked her help.”

“I told her not to tell!” he said quickly, angrily. “How did you come to be in communication with her?”

“She had planned to come to the rectory Sunday afternoon and help me with some ordering for the parish poor, but wrote to put it off. She mentioned having to cancel a visit with
you
as well. Now I know perfectly well why you wanted to go there. Don’t deny it.”

“She didn’t
tell
you so.”

“She didn’t have to spell it out. In this one isolated case, I know it was not the woman’s personal charms that instigated the call. You know my feelings about smuggling. If you mean to catch the smugglers and have every second father in Salford put into irons, I want nothing more to do with you, Stanley.”

I could see the consternation on his face, could read as well as though he had written it what was in his mind. Frustration was there. I think he wanted again to tell me the truth, but as the truth was so much worse in my eyes than his lie, he could not do that. Nor did he seem to be much of a mind to deny his efforts to stop the smugglers. I really wondered that he stuck at disclaiming any intentions along those lines. To a consummate liar like himself, it could hardly matter.

“I’m doing it for us,” he said. “It will help me to a good position in London, so we can get married.”

It was the first time the word “marriage” had been used between us. There had been inferences and strong hints, of course, but not an outright statement before now. The timing of it, following his visit to Lucy, seemed so very inappropriate too. “I don’t seem to recall saying I would marry you, sir!”

Oh, but how my heart beat at his words.

“You have led me to believe... Well, you did use the word ‘compromise’ at least.”

“I am using it again. Your going on with this scheme compromises any chance of ever marrying me, Mr. Williams. I won’t see you again if you don’t stop this.”

“Mab, I
can’t
stop! I need the boost this will give my career. I have debts, obligations you know nothing of. I have worked very hard for this chance. I can’t give it up. I
know
now it is the Eyrie Miss Sage is using. It must be. I was out in a boat and discovered a cave right below it, with a
boat
anchored! The boat hasn’t been there ten years either; it’s newish. The stuff is brought right into the cellar of that house. I can catch the whole gang and be made anything I want in London.”

“What about the people here? You’d throw all those innocent men into jail, or see them hanged?” It was hard to get this speech out. He
knew,
knew the whole. How lucky it was he had told me!

“No, I don’t plan to do it that way at all. I have been thinking about all you and Andrew told me—and those writings from your schoolchildren. How could you think I meant to punish those poor people? I am not a monster. It is only Miss Sage himself I mean to capture. It is all set in London—I have made the deal with Borden, the top dog with customs. He’s not interested in the small fish. It is only Miss Sage I want.”

“How will you do it?” I asked, exerting every effort to keep my voice steady.

He looked suddenly wary. I don’t think he had meant to tell me a single thing, but had stumbled into it somehow. “I don’t know exactly, but he has to be in contact with his men: I’ll ferret him out somehow.”

“You don’t know who it might be, Stanley. It might be some perfectly honorable and respectable person, doing it to help the poor.”

“Fat chance! It’s a bloated businessman lining his pockets. If it were all charity, that would be different. It is only Miss Sage I mean to capture. The others may go free with my good wishes.”

“They won’t carry on without Miss Sage. Even if he does line his own pockets, so does he line the pockets of the poor.”

“Not to any considerable extent. I mean to work in the city for some
lawful
scheme to help the poor. I
don’t see why the government can’t loan money, for instance, to set up a proper fishing fleet. If a bunch of the men formed a group it could be done. There never seems to be as much fish as they want at Billingsgate. This much I do know, if men are allowed to flout the law with impunity, they lose all respect for it. ‘Wherever law ends, tyranny begins.’ Those are the words of an
English
philosopher, amply proven in France not so long ago.”

“The law does not have to
end
for tyranny to begin—bad laws are tyrants. If you mean to go on with this, we are through.” This was desperation speaking. I
must
divert him from discovering the truth.

“Don’t deliver that ultimatum unless you mean it, Mab.”

“I do mean it!”

“Don’t try to lead me. I don’t have the ring in my nose yet.”

“You have the limited mind and stubbornness of a bull for all that.”

His stormy eyes were glaring. “I find it odd you are so determined to be against me, when I understand you have often helped Crites in the past.”

“Very true, but then Officer Crites has such a gentlemanly, persuasive way about him that none of the girls can resist him,” I answered foolishly, and turned to leave the store.

He did not try to stop me.

Chapter Fourteen

It was far and away
the best thing that could happen to me, to be cut off from frequent visits with Williams. Best from a personal point of view, but for business reasons, it would be better to keep in touch. His having discovered my cave, for instance, was a vital piece of information, and only stumbled onto because of our relationship.

And how annoying it was to have to abandon my perfect Eyrie so early in the game. I had hoped to get at least a year’s service out of it—use up my lease. My mind was all in a whirl when I went home. I would keep firmly and constantly in mind that we were enemies, and not let my heart run away with my head, as it kept wanting to do.

It was war between us, no more, no less. My enemy was suspicious, and I must direct his suspicions from the Eyrie. Make him think some other spot was used. I scanned my mind, and found it going back to Aiken’s place. Lord Aiken had not remained long, just for a Christmas holiday. Williams had already been investigating there. He must be led back to it. There is a nice stretch of shingle beach just below Lord Aiken’s estate, actually a part of the estate, I believe, but not built on at all. We had used the dock, but that nice quiet length of beach, so open to prying eyes, beckoned me. I trifled with various ideas—landing a batch of empty barrels and making Williams look a perfect fool when he went dashing in to rescue barrels of air. But he would not do that. He would hang back in the dark, waiting to follow Jemmie to me. It was only Miss Sage he was after.

Still, for the next shipment fast approaching, he might be lured to that beach for a diversion, while we got the stuff up the stairs of the Eyrie. Yes, definitely that would be an amusing exercise. I would arrange through Jem, who had a dozen rascally gentlemen he met during the length of his higgling route, to pass along plans to have empty barrels landed at the beach, to distract Williams. Jemmie disliked my idea. Too many men involved—a crew at the beach, and another at the Eyrie. And what if Williams did not fall for it? The lugger could be burned off from the Eyrie, of course, but unless we had another landing spot, which we did not, it would mean losing the cargo.