Smuggler's Glory (11 page)

Stifling
a yawn, her eyes met and held his through the darkness. “If you
can’t trust me enough to tell me who you really are, how do you
expect me to trust you?” She didn’t need to look too closely to see
that same vague look on his face he got when he was going to
lie.

“
There is nothing to tell you,” Simon replied gently. He hated
lies between them, but the need to protect her was too strong to
ignore. Her ignorance of his true identity could, ultimately, save
her life.

“
You mean nothing you will tell me.” Francesca sighed, feeling
somewhat let down. “I’m tired, and am going to go to
bed.”

“
You haven’t told me about the village yet,” Simon chided her,
making no attempt to leave his comfortable seat and allow her to
slide between the sheets.

“
What about it?”

“
What is going on there that makes the villagers scared of
strangers and, unless I am mistaken, everyone afraid to go out at
night?”

Francesca hesitated. It was late and they were both
undoubtedly tired. To explain what was going on in the village
would take a while, and she wasn’t sure she wanted him to be in her
bedroom that long. He seemed altogether too comfortable as it was.
Still, she sighed and debated whether to just tell him and let him
decide what he was going to do with the information. If he wasn’t
to be trusted, he would know that in reality, she knew very little.
If he was here for some other nefarious reason, what she was about
to tell him was not really going to help him in any way, or hamper
his activities.

“
The Much Hampton I remember from my youth was a thriving,
bustling town, believe it or not. I can always remember going for
walks on the moors, and passing through the village. People would
always call ‘hello’ and take a moment to talk. It was essentially
just the same as any other village in the country. Everybody knew
each other and helped each other out when people ran into
difficulties.” She sighed and settled back into the chair wearily.
She could feel his eyes studying her but she refused to look at
him. Instead she tucked a thick woollen blanket across her legs and
began to pluck absently at the fine strands that hung
loose.

“
I don’t know when things began to change, because I wasn’t
here.”

“
Where do you hail from?” Simon hated to interrupt but he fully
intended to ask Hugo to find out what he could not only about
Francesca, but Bertie and Madeline too.

“
Oxfordshire,” Francesca replied hesitantly.

“
Did your uncle correspond with other members of your
family?”

Francesca frowned, wondering why he wanted to know. It didn’t
seem pertinent to the activities of Much Hampton, but she could see
no reason not to accommodate his curiosity..

“
Not as far as I am aware, no. He wasn’t altogether close to my
father, but seemed to look forward to spending time with us as
children. Unfortunately his visits to us were infrequent and short,
which is why I looked forward to coming here so much. It was nice
to spend time with him without looking at the timepiece and
dreading the moment when he was going to take his leave. He always
seemed to have time for us here. Of course, my sisters hated it
here because of it being far too isolated, but there was something
about the moors that seemed to appeal to me and I just loved being
at Thistledown with my uncle.”

“
Did you visit often?”

“
Once a year. We stayed over the summer for several weeks. Of
course it was wild and windy even then: something my sisters didn’t
appreciate. In the latter years my sisters found reasons not to
visit at all, until for the past two or three years, I was the only
one in the entire family who bothered to pay a visit.” Her voice
held a tinge of sadness at the events that unfolded.

“
When did you notice things start to change in the
village?”

“
Last year. I was walking with my uncle over the moors, and he
seemed more distracted than usual. It was as though something was
bothering him, but of course, he refused to speak to me about it. I
first noticed something amiss when we went through the village,
only nobody hailed us. People seemed almost nervous, and scurried
away before my uncle could call a greeting. Some people did call
out a cautious ‘hello’ to us, but then hurried off. But it was when
we returned from our walk that I really noticed a difference. My
uncle wanted to avoid the village, which was unusual in itself, and
walk several miles out of our way, but I insisted on retracing our
steps. When we walked through the village it was as though nobody
was there and the village was abandoned. It was really strange, and
more than a little unnerving. If one was of an imaginative nature,
one would almost believe that you could feel yourself being
watched, only nobody was there. It was deuced odd.” She was so busy
frowning into the fireplace that she didn’t notice Simon’s
instinctive smile at her mild blasphemy, but he chose not to
mention it. At last he felt as though he was getting somewhere, and
he wasn’t prepared to say, or do, anything that would stop the flow
of information.

“
I know what you mean. I noted exactly the same thing when I
came through the village yesterday.” When Francesca’s brows rose,
he explained. “When I approached Much Hampton, it was a bustling
village, but something struck me as odd. There were lots of carts
going here and there, but I never passed one on the way into the
village. So where were they going? What were they carrying? I
searched the village for a place to stay when it became apparent
that the tavern wasn’t in use any more, only when I went back
through the village, it was deserted.”

“
It’s really odd. Nobody seems willing to talk. It is as though
they know something but are too scared to even speak to anybody
about it.”

“
Can you remember what time you passed through the village with
your uncle, when you noticed the strange behaviour?”

“
It was just before tea, so it would be about three o’clock. We
arrived back here about three thirty and had tea at
four.”

“
When did the tin mine close down?”

“
About eighteen months ago. It was a sad day for my uncle
because so many of the servants who worked here had relatives who
worked in the mine.”

“
Why did it close, do you know?”

Francesca shook her head. “I think it may have run dry, but
cannot be sure. Unfortunately, the one man you could have asked was
Mr Templeton, who owned the tavern.”

“
Has he left for more affluent pastures?”

“
No, he died about six months before his wife left.”

“
When was that?”

“
I cannot be sure of dates, you understand,” Francesca warned,
raking her memory for as much detail as she could muster. Although
she couldn’t understand what any of this had to do with Simon, she
knew from the intent look on his face that her answers were
important. “I came to see my uncle last summer. Mr Templeton died
just before Christmas the previous year. His wife tried to run the
tavern for several months before leaving just before the summer.
When I got here last year, it was as abandoned as the tin mine
across the valley.”

“
Do you know who owns the tin mine?”

“
Not sure, sorry. I know that this house was built by the owner
of the tin mine, as was usual in those days. But, I am not sure who
the owner was when my uncle purchased the house.”

“
How long has he owned this place?”

“
As long as I can remember,” Francesca replied, stifling a
yawn. “At least five and twenty years, if not longer.”

“
Was your uncle married at all?”

Once
again, sadness shadowed her beautiful face, making Simon regret his
choice of question. He wanted to ask her to ignore the question,
but something kept him quiet. He wanted to know, and it wasn’t just
to be able to send as much information about her to Hugo as he
could uncover. There was more behind his curiosity that he wasn’t
prepared to look too closely at.

“
His wife and son died only a few years after he married. From
what I overheard during conversation between my parents as a child,
their deaths brought about a change in him and he seemed to
withdraw from society. This house was purchased shortly after their
death. My uncle wanted to escape the marital home, too many
memories, and all that.”

“
So he moved here and stayed here until his demise last year.
Did he have a vast fortune he lived off? It seems almost too remote
to make a successful living here.”

“
To be honest, I have no idea how my uncle made his fortune. My
father certainly wasn’t overly wealthy, and made it perfectly clear
to my sisters and me that we were a financial burden he couldn’t
wait to cast off.”

Francesca stared at him. “There were many things we talked
about while I was here, but his fortune and wealth wasn’t one of
them.”

Simon
knew there was little possibility that her uncle would have told
her even if she had asked. If her family were hard up, he may have
accepted guardianship of the girls over the summer to alleviate
some of the burden rather than sending money to their father for
their upkeep but he couldn’t see any reason in pointing this out to
Francesca.

From
what she had already told him about her family, he could understand
her uncle’s willingness to accommodate her and allow her freedom
from their grasping ways. He felt a certain kinship with the
deceased relative that was unusual, to say the very
least.

What was
even more unusual was the fact that he was sitting in the
bedchamber of a woman he had met less than a day ago, talking about
mysterious happenings in a village he didn’t want to be in, while
the woman was dressed alluringly in a nightgown that only just
managed to cover her modesty. If his colleagues from the Star Elite
learned of tonight, they would kill themselves laughing.

Shaking
his head, he rose wearily to his feet.

“
Thank you for confiding in me, Francesca. I think that there
is something very odd going on in Much Hampton, and I am glad I am
not the only person to experience its eccentricities. Because
neither of us knows what is happening around here, please be very
careful and don’t go out unless Bertie or I are there to accompany
you. The last thing I want is for you to stumble upon Charlie or
Tom alone again.”

“
Thank you for your kindness, Mr -”

“
Simon, please. I hate formalities. It seems such a frivolous
and unnecessary waste of time.” He didn’t wait for her to reply and
moved toward the door where he paused, one hand on the knob.
“Please lock the door behind me and keep it locked.” He glanced
toward the window behind him, and the first rays of light that were
creeping around the curtains. Wrinkling his nose, he glanced
ruefully at her. “Try and get some sleep while there is some of the
night left.”

“
Simon?”

“
Yes?” He could sense the worry and concern on her
face.

“
Do you think my uncle was murdered?”

Simon
hesitated, and stared at her. Although the real reason why he was
in her house had to remain a secret for now, he hated the
clandestine necessity of it and didn’t want anything else to be
between them unless he could help it.

“
It is difficult to say right now. It would help if, tomorrow,
you could show me where he died, so I can take a look. I don’t know
what I am looking for, you understand, but I can take a look
anyway. Because we cannot be sure what happened on the night of
your uncle’s death, neither of us can afford to take
risks.”

“
Thank you,” Francesca said softly. She didn’t know why she
felt the need to ask such a question, especially of Simon with whom
she really had very little acquaintance. It had shaken her more
than she cared to admit when Simon revealed his experiences in the
village yesterday. There was something definitely odd about the
village of late. If only she could find out whether it was linked
to her uncle’s death then she would know whether she should spend
the time and money refurbishing Thistledown. The last thing she
wanted was to refurbish the house her uncle had been murdered
in.

“
Get some sleep,” he murmured softly, disappearing through the
door.

She
stared at the closed panel for several minutes, lost in silent
contemplation, and jumped at the soft knock that broke into her
thoughts several moments later. As instructed, she scurried across
the room and quickly locked the door, leaning against the cool wood
for several moments. She could still smell his masculine scent that
hovered in the air, and felt her stomach warm in response to his
nearness.

“
You haven’t got time for any of that,” Francesca whispered,
pushing away from the door and returning to her bed, where she
tugged up the covers. But rather than go to sleep, she rolled onto
her back and stared blankly at the canopy high above.

She had
no doubt he had secrets he wasn’t going to tell her, and she was
taking a great risk even allowing him into her house, much less
staying over. Was his arrival in the village at the same time as
the strange activities in the village and the tin mine mere
coincidence? Or was he here for more nefarious reasons?