Endure My Heart (28 page)

“No need to worry about them then.”

“Andrew brought you, did he?”

“Yes. I didn’t even have to use duress, but only mention Sally Trebar would be here. I must warn you, however, she will not give him the time of day when there are so many scarlet jackets present, and it is not at all sure he will stay the course. Your escort home would be welcome.”

“Did he actually tell you he would be leaving early?”

“No, Andrew does not think to mention such details. You know what he is like. He is probably at home this minute playing the organ. I see he is not here, in any case,” I added, looking around the room. “Unless he has gone into the card room for a hand of whist. He will sometimes condescend to a hand of cards.”

“Shall we have a look?” he asked, and in my surprise, immediately left the dance floor. Andrew was sitting in a corner with Mrs. Aldridge and the Slacks, a couple in their seventies. These were his chosen companions for an afternoon’s entertainment.

“Safe and sound, you see, flirting with Mrs. Aldridge. Did you wish to see him about something?”

“No, not particularly.” We returned to the hall and finished our one waltz.

Between the plethora of escorts and Sir Stamford’s status as an engaged gentleman, he was not in his customary demand that afternoon. I saw him stand at the room’s edge for one set, then when Andrew emerged from the card parlor and went home (without a word to me!) I took the idea Stamford
did
wish to speak to him after all, for he followed him very shortly afterward.

I assumed he was arranging with Andrew for one or the other of them to take me home. It was impossible for anyone to have a minute to herself at that party. No less than three gentlemen were fighting over me for the next dance. What a party it would have been, if only I had not so many worries on my head. As Wicklow did not return, I knew he was out scouring the roads for my men. It was a dreadfully nerve-racking afternoon.

After half an hour, I was wishing myself at home in my saloon. The officers’ importunities ceased to amuse, and only annoyed me. But Jemmie knew I was at the assembly; if he had to see me, he would come here. I remained on and on, my eyes flying every two or three minutes to the clock on the wall—four-fifteen, four-thirty, four forty-five—soon it would be five. Phillips would have completed the pickup and be safely on the road to London.

Then it happened. At five o’clock sharp, an ear-piercing whistle rent the air. Looking to its source, I saw Stamford in the doorway, his face wearing an expression that was new to me. It was the face of authority. Crisp commands were uttered in a loud, clear bark. The dragoons leapt to attention, hastened out the door to assemble themselves magically into columns as straight as a ruler. The orders given were not entirely comprehensible to me, but our local gentlemen explained that they were to make a “forced march” to the camp, there to get themselves mounted and go after “the gentlemen.”

In some manner, Wicklow had found out my plan. The ensuing brouhaha was hardly less than that which must have followed the interruption of the Duchess of Richmond’s ball, when the allied forces were called from the floor to go to meet Napoleon. I had the most nauseating apprehension that I had met my own Waterloo.

Chapter Twenty-Two

It has occasionally
been whispered of me that I wear the trousers at the rectory. I believe there may be some truth in it. I discovered in myself that afternoon a streak of something that I have always associated with men, in any case. I did not panic as the moment of truth descended upon me. I was distressed, of course. To remain unfazed at such a time must indicate a lack of average intelligence. I was plenty distressed, but not cast into hysterics, nor anything like it.

While the ladies gathered around, chirping and oohing and aahing at the soldiers forming into ranks, I looked for Jemmie, who should be somewhere around, looking for me. I spotted him inching his way toward me, and under cover of the confused scene going forth before us, it was easy to slip into the assembly hall for a private talk.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Now don’t panic, miss. It ain’t a desperate situation.”

“Do I look panic-stricken? Just tell me the facts, Jem.”

“He was riding up and down the shore road, Wicklow, looking this way and that, almost as though he knew we was up to something, but we had our scouts out, and he didn’t see anything he wasn’t supposed to. Then he spoke to one of his lads, and first thing ye know, one of the redcoats was riding back to the sheepwalk. He must of seen Phillips—he was bound to. Then he rides back to Wicklow, and Wicklow hotfoots it here, to the assembly.”

“And this you call not desperate! It seems to me it is not far from it. You’ve given Phillips word to abandon the cargo and proceed with his load of furniture? Perhaps some of the men can roll a barrel or two to safety. At least they will not be caught with the stuff on their premises. It is pretty hard to prove anything in that case.”

“The lads weren’t of a mind to give up their last load.”

“You
cannot mean—but what have they done with it? What are the dragoons doing all this while?”

“A message was sent down the line for them to start for town, thinking to stop Phillips as he went from the sheepwalk to the shore road, ye see, for they didn’t know we were on to them. I’d have got to ye sooner, but I had to wait and see what they meant to do. I’ve had Phillips turn his rig around and go back the other way.”

“What is the point of that? When the tranter does not come out of the sheepwalk at the expected time, they will not be long in overtaking him. They are mounted on some of the fastest horseflesh I have ever seen. Where is Phillips intending to take the loads?”

“To Oxton’s.”

“The
Seamew?”
I asked.

“Aye. I figured there was time to get it aboard and cast off before the redcoats tumbled to what was afoot. They’ll waste a while marching to camp to get their nags.”

“We are going in circles. It will be dumped again, and grappled for again, and have to be.”

“Nay, they ain’t about to dump it again, miss,” he told me. “She’s been under water long enough we can’t lower her again, or she’d he bleachy.”

“We can’t sail the load to London. You know the place is crawling with customs men.”

“Nay, miss, they’s coming here, to Salford. That’s all.”

“I think you have run mad. Wicklow will claim the right to board and search the
Seamew,
and all this runaround has been for nothing. There isn’t time to get it to the crypt, and I won’t use it in any case. He already knows I am Miss Sage.”

“It’s Andrew he suspects. He shadowed him home from the assembly, and he’s been keeping a mighty close watch on him of late. But I didn’t think ye’d use the crypt this time, miss. Ye’ll have to come up with another idea.”

My mind was a perfect vacuum. Another idea was nowhere in sight. All the regular places as well known as an old ballad, and not more than half an hour to find our spot and move the load. It was impossible. That Wicklow suspected poor innocent Andrew was bouncing around there too, disconcerting me to no small degree. The
Seamew
would dock in the bay, the stuff could not be carted far enough away to be safe before Wicklow was back, or had a deputy back.

“No, you’ll have to burn them off. Don’t let them land before dark. In fact, I think you’ll have to swim out and board the
Seamew,
Jem. No, better take a rowboat; it is too cold. I don’t see any other way. Tell them they are to go fishing till well past dark. We’ll bide our time and see where it is safe for them to land, and give the signal. What is Phillips doing after he unloads the brandy? Where does he take the load of furnishings he has?”

“It’s only going to Stalkley, three miles inland. He can be back tonight.”

“Good. Does he come right back?”

“I thought it best to tell him to, in case we needed him.”

“Excellent. Meet him, or have your brother meet him, and direct him to go to the inn and wait word there. We may want him on a moment’s notice.”

“I’ll get word to him. And the
Seamew,
she’s to loiter round shore, or what?”

“No, send her out a bit, and come back around eleven to do her loitering under cover of darkness. We'll have to do some sharp scouting to find a safe spot for her to land. A pity we could not take her farther down the coast, but we don’t want a war with the smugglers from Harwich on our hands as well. That’s all we need. Where is Crites, by the way?”

“He’s gone to Felixstone to buy a telescope, miss,” Jem answered with a grin.

“Good God, I wish Wicklow were as easy to fool.”

“Ye’ll think of something,” Jem told me, with a confidence which I own seemed badly placed. Then he dashed off, to do just as he was bid.

The evening of the fifth of March was an evening I would not care to have to relive. As I could be of no use in town, I went home, to sit on pins and needles, running to the front door every two minutes, to look up and down the road, for nothing in particular, then up to the bell tower, to view the
Seamew’s
progress. From the front door I saw considerable darting up and down the road by the dragoons, all looking harried, excited and very determined. From the bell tower I saw the stern of the
Seamew
growing smaller and smaller, and I also saw Jem rowing up to his own dock, carrying a string of fish. He had taken time to pick up the family’s supper during his errand!

At eight-thirty we sustained a short visit from Wicklow, who came for no other purpose than to insult us, if his behavior was any indication. He asked for Andrew, not myself, though I remained in the room as a matter of course. He did not outright accuse my brother of being Miss Sage, nor, I believe, did Andrew ever imagine for a moment the point of the questions put to him.

To myself and Edna, there could be no doubt of his meaning. There were sly compliments on our elegantly furnished saloon, so well done on a churchman’s salary. Three hundred pounds a year, he believed Porson had mentioned. There were innuendos about the oddity of a churchman professing the view that laws were not to be regarded if one did not care for them. Even, at the nadir of the visit, there as an imputation that absentmindedness was a cunning disguise for a criminal. None of this fazed Andrew in the least. He answered in his own hapless fashion, turning the commitment on the saloon to myself, and to the last charge replying that he did not think he was absentminded precisely.

When he tried to turn the talk to organ, Wicklow arose brusquely and headed to the door. I took a step after him—pure instinct, as I wanted him to leave more than I wanted anything else in the world at that moment. “I’m sorry, Mab,” he said, and looked at me. I think there was pity in his eyes, but there was determination in the set of his jaw.

“Seems to be in the devil of a bad skin tonight,” Andrew said. “Daresay it’s this business of trying to catch the smugglers. Or have you and he had a falling-out, Mab?”

“A little disagreement is brewing,” I answered, which satisfied my brother.

“That is a pity. I know how you feel. I don’t suppose you noticed whether Miss Trebar was taken home from the assembly by Officer Milne?”

“I don’t think so, Andrew,” I answered, sorry to see his passion for the chit continued unabated.

At ten, Jemmie came to the back door, to tell me Wicklow had men posted all along the shore road—every man on duty, from the far side of Fern Bank right to the sea in front of our own house and the church, with added strength at such suspicious points as Aiken’s, the Eyrie, the school, etc. All my old haunts. The safest thing would be to dump the load, bring the
Seamew
into dock at Salford and consider the business finished.

But such an unsatisfactory conclusion for the illustrious career of Miss Sage! I wished a pinnacle for myself, not a defeat. This was no retaliation for Stamford’s fast-approaching marriage to Lady Lucy either. What a waste it would be if we should dump the load, only to land at Salford without a single dragoon there to check us out, for according to Jem, the last man was posted at my own front door, nearly a mile from the dock—well, a good half mile and more.

We had never taken a load right into town. No one ever had been so bold, in all the history of the coast, including my old predecessor, Miss Marjoram. It had the daring, reckless, implausible ring of Miss Marjoram to it. I felt a tingle of excitement run right down my spine. Wicklow, awake on all suits, had not thought it necessary to post sentinels in the town proper. The dock was a busy and open spot, but at one or two in the morning—who would be there?

Jem was not due back for half an hour. I could no longer sit still. I put on Andrew’s jacket and trousers, tucked my hair under his hat and took a quick dart to the dock to see for myself that even at ten-thirty, there was not a single soul around. I would send word to Phillips to get his wagons down here at once, give the signal to the
Seamew
and get the stuff dispatched to London.

This determined, I began scanning the closest buildings for good concealment for the operation. I did not wish to have the carts standing on the open dock the whole time. There was a grain storage depot, the fish market area, the ships repair dock, and there, right next to this, was Owens’ warehouse, backing onto the sea. The storefront proper opened on the main street. Between the store and the warehouse was a yard for delivery wagons, but when goods came by ship, they landed their load at the dock.

How fitting a thing, if the brandy should be stored in Wicklow’s own nesting place. He would not think to look in his own backyard for the contraband cargo. But it would
not
be stored anywhere, if my luck held out; the wagons would wait right in the warehouse itself—a huge building.

My mind was made up in an instant. The only addition to the plan was for a few of my men to cause some diversion up the coast, in the direction of Felixstone. Wardle’s fishing boat was the diversion hit upon. Wardle’s place had in all probability been searched already, for I had learned from Jem that all the smugglers’ homes and premises had been thoroughly ransacked.