Hope's Betrayal (28 page)

He entered the
office and Bennett rose and came to greet him.

"Captain."
He clasped his hand warmly. "Good to see you, sir."

"And
you." His throat closed over.

"Word was
you'd never walk again." He nodded to Huntley's cane.

"Trust you
to be direct." Huntley grinned , after month's of people's politeness,
such bluntness was refreshing. "I may never ride again, but I consider
myself lucky to be alive."

"Well, I
for one am glad to see you up and about."

"Look, you
must be wondering what I'm doing here. The thing is, I wanted to
apologise."

"Apologise?
What for?"

Huntley took a
deep breath. "I was posted here to root out corruption, and when I first
arrived I suspected your integrity—which was wrong of me. It would mean a lot
if you would accept my apology?"

 "That's
quite alright, Captain. You were doing your duty."

"Even so,
there were better ways of going about it."

Bennett looked
thoughtful. "The way I see it, this office had become complacent. You
shook us up and that's a good thing."

The men clasped
hands. Trying to hide his gratification, Huntley nodded toward the harbor.

"How goes
things?"

Bennett beamed.
"Thanks to you, the smugglers are having a lean time of it and no
mistake."

"Oh?"

"Your raid
in the Southwest was the turning point."

"The one
where I was injured? Then I'm glad to know some good came of it."

"Aye, that
it did. Most of the ringleaders were rounded up and now their lackeys are too
afeared of the consequences to risk smuggling."

"That's
marvelous news. So the gang's disbanded?"

"Almost.
Just the one leader evading justice—dropped out of sight he has. It was his
brother you killed that night…."

"Ah."

"So you be
careful, Captain, just in case his brother comes looking for you."

"I will.
What's the fellow’s name? I'll keep my ear to the ground."

"All we
know is his surname is Choake. He's a wily character, elusive as sea mist. Any
day now I reckon one of his disillusioned lackeys will squawk. I'll send word
as soon as we know more."

"Good work.
Be sure you do, I'd like to help."

*****

At the same time
Captain Huntley was leaving Boureham, back at The Grange Lady Ryevale yawned
and announced she was going for a nap. Hope bit her lip, having yet to break
the news, but for now the moment was lost and so Hope decided on walking
Jasper.

It had become
their habit, when Lady Constance took her post-luncheon nap, for Hope to walk
the dog. She’d come to look forward to this as a time of solitude and
reflection and this walk would be her last along these paths, and she'd best
get used to the idea. She decided to refuse George face-to-face. And to refuse
his proposal and remain under his roof was untenable, so she would leave.

In a thoughtful
mood, Hope whistled for Jasper to keep up. He had charged into a mound of
leaves and ran back, tail high as a flag pole. The air was full of autumn
smells, of rotting leaves and wood smoke from the gardener's bonfire. A thick
mist rose off the damp ground, adding a ghostly quality to the woods.

Hope turned her
face to the sky; clouds were building into angry towers, with grey, glowering
bases. A gust of wind caught her skirts and she shivered. Best not go too far,
it wouldn’t do to get caught out in the rain. Oblivious to everything else,
Jasper bounded on ahead, his nose close to the earth, picking up the scent of
squirrel, then rabbit, switching trails, too excited to stick with one.

Dressed in a
nankeen walking dress with matching pelisse, Hope followed their regular route.
The woodland grew thicker, a delightful tangle of elm, hawthorn and oak,
crisscrossed by paths. Hope reflected in what must have been a magical place to
grow up, some many trees to climb, streams to ford and imaginary worlds to
conquer. Was this, she wondered, where George's love of justice and righting
wrongs had been born? She spotted an old rope hanging from a sturdy branch. She
touched it affectionately, imagining the young Huntley brothers swinging on it,
then tumbling off into the mud. A spasm of regret tugged at her heart, that her
children would never play here. A deep longing dragged at her stomach, the
thought of carrying George's sons, but quickly she quashed the idea and glanced
around for Jasper.

“Jasper.” She
whistled.

But no
tan-and-white dog appeared. She peered into the undergrowth and called more
loudly. “Jasper. Here boy!”

Taking her time
she scanned around, hoping to see his busy tail or lolling pink tongue. Stay
calm, she told herself, he won’t have gone far.

“Jasper!”

This time she
frowned, irritation turning to panic as the dog failed to appear. A rustle in
the leaves behind her and she spun around. A figure stepped forward, his face
hidden by a large hat.

“This dog is
yours?” The man said.

“There you are.”
She sighed with relief as she spotted the tan-and-white dog wriggling in the
man’s arms She recognised the voice, a deep fruity baritone, and for no
apparent reason, her heart hammered with fear. "Mr. Oswald, is that
you?"

He pushed his
hat back. "It is indeed. What a fortuitous meeting."

“Mr Oswald,
thank you. It seems we are destined to bump into one another.” She wondered at
what he was doing in the Grange's woods.

“My pleasure,
Miss Tyler, but best you keep that dog on a leash.”

“Absolutely.” She
snipped the lead onto Jasper’s collar, who stared up at her with chastened
eyes. She patted him and the dog’s tail erupted into wags, sweeping the path
clear of leaves. She straightened. “Mr Oswald, I thought you were going to the Island”

“Indeed, and that
is why I was on my way to The Grange, to seek you out.”

“Me?” Alarm
rattled through Hope’s brain. “I made it plain we have nothing further to
discuss.”

His long face
grew serious as he cleared his throat.

“Alas, this has
nothing to do with my offer. I regret Miss Tyler, I am the bearer of bad news.”

Her heart
skipped a beat. She stared at him. He seemed genuinely concerned, his face pale
despite the exertion of the walk.

“Go on.”

“Miss Tyler, I
wish there was an easy way to tell you this, but your father has been hurt.”

Hope struggled
to take in the news. "I don’t understand? How do you know?"

Oswald took a
step back, and gestured to the path from which he had emerged.

“Because he's
here, do hurry.”

“He’s here? On
the mainland?” A chord struck with Hope, something didn’t add up. She stood her
ground.

“Yes, he was
coming to see you when he had an accident.”

Hope stared at
him. "Why? Why would he be coming here? And how do you know?"

There was
flicker in Oswald's expression, something she couldn’t quite read.

"Miss
Tyler, can I trust you?"

"Of
course."

"As a
smuggler yourself…"

"Not any
longer." Then the penny dropped. "He was making a landing in
daylight?"

"Everything
was carefully planned…until he collapsed."

She faltered,
unsure whether to listen to her heart or her head. Something wasn’t right, but
why would Oswald lie.

“Is father
seriously hurt?”

“I wish I could
say differently….”

"And his
health had improved enough to sail again?"

"He was
well at the start of the journey—an accident, you see."

A chill ran
through her blood, Oswald had to be lying, her father was a sick man at the
best of times.

"What sort
of accident?"

Oswald narrowed
his eyes. "Slipped and hit his head."

"Oh!"
Hope exclaimed, in what she prayed was a convincing manner. "Then I must
return Jasper to the house, and summon help."

A shadow passed
across Oswald’s face. “Bring the dog, there’s no time to be lost. Your father's
life hangs in the balance.”

“But…”

“But if we delay
it may be too late.”

Hope’s world
spun and yet she held her ground. She only had Oswald’s word, and yet what if
she was wrong and her father really was dying? Oswald was a gentleman, he had
all but asked her to marry him, what possible reason could he have to lie to
her. “Tell me again what happened.”

Oswald bowed.
“Madam, I fear even the slightest delay. It is you he asks for. Please. Come. I
shall explain on the way.”

Hope quivered
with uncertainty. “He’s nearby, you say?”

“Yes, on the
beach. Please. On my conscience, no more delay, what message do I take him?”

Hope stood
paralysed with indecision. Her instincts screamed something was wrong, but if
her father's life was in danger….

 Oswald shook
his head, his hooded eyes glowering, and turned to go.

"Very well,
stay here. What shall I tell William, when he asks why you did not come?"

"Tell
him…tell him…" Hope's words died away. Oswald shook his head in disgust
and made to go. Hope did nothing to stop him, watching as he strode off down
the path and then, as if waking from a dream, she shouted for him to wait.

*****

Huntley whistled
as the horse trotted homeward-bound along the country lanes. He felt liberated,
ready for a fresh start; he had commissioned Hope's ring, the smugglers were on
retreat and Bennett had accepted his apology. For so long, he'd struggled to
right the world's wrongs while there was work to be done at The Grange. Now his
challenges were closer to home. He would work to improve crops and make the
tenants more secure. While he'd been ill, Huntley had read of farming
innovations, of revolutionary techniques for increasing yield, so people didn’t
face the choice between smuggling or starvation. Of course Charles, as heir,
would need to be consulted, but his elder brother showed precious little
interest for anything other than the ton.

The traces
jingled as the mare turned into the long drive approaching the main house.
Huntley slackened the ribbons, letting the horse lead the way. It was as they
rounded the final bend that Huntley saw a scuffle taking place on the steps of
the portico.

Puzzled, Huntley
guided the gig to the main entrance. He climbed down, rubbed his aching leg and
threw the reins to the gardener's lad. On the steps, Jenkins was remonstrating
with a young man. The lad was dressed in working clothes with heavy boots and a
thick, oiled-wool jumper. His complexion was coarse and weather-beaten, and
brown hair bleached by the sun. There was a familiarity about him that jarred
with Huntley. He knew him, but how?

As Jenkins had
the lad by the scruff, propelling him down the steps, as the lad called out
Hope’s name. As he got closer Huntley recognised him, Thomas Tyler, as Hope's
stepbrother.

"My
apologies, Captain," Out of breath, Jenkins bowed. "But this fellow
insisted on seeing you. When I said you were out, he asked for Miss Tyler. He
wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I was 'inviting' him to leave."

"That's
quite alright, Jenkins. You can let him go."

"Captain
Huntley!" The lad's eyes lit up. "I'm so glad you're here…"

"Young Mr.
Thomas Tyler, unless I'm much mistaken. Come to ask about your sister after all
this time? Well, I can assure you she is in robust good health." Huntley
made to walk past him.

"Please,
sir, listen.  It’s Hope I came to talk to you about.”

"That's
enough." Jenkins snatched at Thomas’s arm, but the lad stood his ground.

“Captain, you
are in danger.”

Huntley sighed.
“What are you talking about? Now be still, and I’ll ask Jenkins here to release
you.”Thomas immediately stilled. His instant response made Huntley more uneasy
than any amount of shouting. There was a look of desperation in the boy's eyes
which filled Huntley with foreboding. Why call now, after all this time, and
then make such a commotion?

“Now, Mr Tyler.
You have one minute to state your business before I ask you to leave.”

Wild-eyed, Tom
glanced at Jenkins, who at a nod from Huntley, released his arm.

Thomas sucked in
a deep breath. “Hope is in danger.”

“Go on.”

“Hope is in
danger.”

“Yes, I heard
that. But why should I believe you?”

Thomas Tyler
rubbed the wrist. “The Excise men broke up the smuggling ring—and the main
investor is furious. He wants revenge and thinks hurting Hope will get it.”

A pulse beat
slow and hard in Huntley’s throat. This was an echo of his earlier conversation
with Bennett. His mind raced. “How do you know this?”