Smuggler's Glory (16 page)

“
She is being pressured into selling this place.”

Simon’s
brows rose at the words he had least expected to hear.
“Pardon?”

“
The strangers in the village want to buy the house and have
been pressuring her into selling to them.”

“
The person in the large carriage we just saw?”

“
Yep, the one and the same.”

“
Did they buy the tavern?”

Bertie
nodded silently.

“
Now they want Thistledown?” Simon frowned, trying desperately
to piece it all together. Bertie looked at him.

“
Did they buy the tin mine?”

“
Did she not tell you?” the old man asked curiously. “Francesca
is the owner.”

“
Francesca owns it?” Simon’s voice was incredulous. “Did nobody
tell her that?”

“
I’m not sure, I thought she knew already.” Simon had no doubt
Bertie believed what he was saying. Simon could see nothing but
honesty shining in his watery gaze. “I don’t think she knows,
Bertie,” he added, shaking his head. “It’s either that or she isn’t
being honest with me.” Immediately his thoughts turned to the
figure in black who appeared to have been looking for something.
Did they know that Francesca owned the mine as well?

He
glanced out of the window, frowning darkly when a flurry of
movement at the tin mine drew his attention.

“
What the -.” He sensed rather than saw Bertie move to stand
beside him.

“
Aye, there’s rumours that the place is haunted.”

“
Surely you don’t believe that,” Simon snorted, trying not to
sound too disparaging.

“
Course not,” Bertie replied huffily. “I’m not that darned
stupid. But something mighty odd is happening around
here.”

“
Can I ask your honest opinion about something?” Simon asked,
reluctant to resurrect old ghosts but seeing no way to find out
what he desperately needed to know. “I need to know purely because
I need to understand just what depths the new arrivals are prepared
to go to in order to get their hands on this house and, it appears,
the tin mine.”

“
Go on,” Bertie urged, resuming his seat on the old
box.

“
Was there anything suspicious about Francesca’s uncle’s
death?”

“
You mean, do I believe he was murdered?” Bertie sighed,
rubbing a hand wearily down his face. “Yes, I do.” The old man
seemed to come to a decision. “If I am honest with you, it is a
relief to be able to confide in someone about everything that has
been going on around here. The strange circumstances around James
Hillier’s death made me wonder whether he had been killed. He
wasn’t a clumsy man. The belief of the locals that he had
inadvertently knocked a candle over while falling asleep at his
desk just didn’t ring true. In all of the years I was working for
him, the man never fell asleep anywhere other than in his own bed
at night. I do know he had had a visitor earlier that day that had
made him extremely angry. So much so, that I was instructed to
arrange footmen to escort them from the property.”

“
Was it the new arrival who causes such a commotion in the
village every day at three o’clock?”

“
No, someone different.”

“
Do you know of any names?” Simon asked hopefully, sighing
deeply when Bertie shook his head.

“
They didn’t give me a card, just demanded to see Master
Hillier and barged past me. Charged straight into the library they
did. Master Hillier was furious and demanded they leave. I had to
go and fetch footmen to escort the man out, you understand, so
don’t know what was said, but Master Hillier was shaken. Badly
shaken by the time the man had gone.”

Simon
sighed and fought the urge to punch the wall. Although he was
grateful for the information, he now knew that the odd goings on
around Thistledown were definitely linked to the strange behaviour
of the locals, and that made Francesca’s presence in the house, as
well as the village, even more dangerous.

“
Do the strangers in the village appear at three o’clock every
day?”

“
Yes, almost on the dot.”

Simon
squatted down before the old man and met his gaze. “I need you to
think very carefully over the day that Master Hillier had his
visitor, Bertie. Do you remember any strange accents the visitor
may have had?”

“
You mean, were they foreign?” Bertie frowned, thinking over
the matter carefully. “No, they were well off because they talked
really posh, but they were definitely English.”

Simon
sighed. “Could they have been related to Francesca?”

“
They weren’t relations of hers as far as I was aware. Course,
I only met her mother once,” the old man looked askance at Simon.
“Not a particularly nice person, that one. She made no bones about
the fact that she hated it here, and felt it beneath her to remain
for long. It was a relief when she left, I can tell you. Can’t
understand how someone so horrid could have such a sweet child as
Francesca.”

“
She’s one on her own,” Simon agreed ruefully. “Tell me, when
did Francesca last have a visit?”

“
The day before you arrived,” Bertie replied solemnly. “Because
of the strange events around Master Hillier’s death, I couldn’t
take the stipend he left me and just go. I had hoped that Francesca
would move here, and away from those blasted heathens she is
related to. Nobody was happier than me when she sent word that she
would be arriving for an extended stay. I couldn’t just go and
leave her here all alone. She needs a man she can turn to. But
someone must be keeping an eye on the place because she had her
first visit just a couple of days after she arrived
here.”

“
Is it the same man who keeps coming back?” Simon asked with a
frown, wondering how the purchase of Thistledown fitted into the
activities of the black carriage in the village.

“
The one and the same. Gets even more sinister each time he
comes. There’s trouble brewing, I can just feel it,” Bertie
grumbled.

Simon
remembered his promise to Francesca not to tell Bertie what had
happened on the path, and fully understood her concerns for the old
man’s feelings. Clearly he had been doing his best to act as her
sort-of guardian, and protector, and had been considering himself
adequate.

Placing
a gentle hand on the old man’s arm, he smiled conspiratorially at
him. “Then we will have to work together to do our best to make
sure she doesn’t encounter any more trouble, won’t we?”

“
There is something else,” Bertie replied solemnly. “That
nursemaid of hers,” he shook his head morosely. “I know Francesca
thinks a lot of her, but there is something that I just don’t trust
about her. Something unusual, you know? Only I can’t quite put my
finger on it.”

“
Do you think she is lying to Francesca?”

“
I think she is not all she makes out to be, but it will break
Francesca’s heart if the woman is involved in any of the nefarious
activities that are going on.”

“
Do you think she may be?”

“
I don’t know, but I do know that some of the things she has
said are deuced odd, and she is very evasive when asked about her
past.”

Simon
nodded cautiously. He had his own doubts about Madeline, and
decided to send a note to Hugo to check out her background as soon
as physically possible.

“
I think that we may just have to protect Francesca against her
own good nature, if it came right down to it.”

“
There’s more.”

Simon
sighed at Bertie’s words, and shook his head, glancing at the old
man ruefully. “Go on,” he replied cautiously, beginning to wonder
if they would ever get out of the attic.

“
I think Madeline drugged my food to keep me in
bed.”

Simon’s
face turned hard and menacing as he absorbed the old man’s
words.

“
I only had a head cold,” Bertie hurried on, squirming under
Simon’s intense stare. “One minute I was alright then Madeline made
me a cup of hot cocoa. The next thing I remember it was two days
later and I was still in bed. Only, I felt groggy, like I had been
drinking all night rather than sleeping. When I asked for
Francesca, Madeline got quite snappy and kept telling me that
Francesca was too busy to visit right now.”

“
So what did you do?”

“
She had taken to bringing the cocoa up and standing over me
while I drank it. Only I decided not to drink any more, and told
her I felt sick and would drink it later. When she had gone, I
threw it out of the window. Within a day, I was able to leave my
bed and, well, then you arrived,” Bertie frowned, studying the
floor at his feet dejectedly.

“
I think then that you need to make your own drinks and we need
to keep a careful watch on Madeline,” Simon replied
conspiratorially. “I want you to take to sitting in the kitchen
while Madeline is cooking and watch her like a hawk while she
prepares our food. Make sure you aren’t distracted and she doesn’t
send you on an errand that takes you out of the kitchen. If I’m
around, I’ll help you. Can you do that?”

“
Of course I can, but what do you plan to do?” Bertie
positively beamed with a mixture of anticipation and
relief.

“
I plan to keep a careful eye on Francesca and be here when she
receives another visit. I also know someone who can ask a few
questions about Madeline’s missing years. Meantime, I think it
would be best if we met up here every day so we can exchange notes
and decide what we are going to do.”

“
That sounds like an excellent idea.”

“
I also need your help in getting a message to Launceston. Can
you do that the next time you go to Bodmin?”

“
Of course I can,” Bertie huffed, clearly miffed that there was
any doubt of his abilities.

“
I am also going to pay a visit or two to the village,” he
added, shooting Bertie a knowing look. “It might just happen to be
about three o’clock in the afternoon as well, so I can get a closer
look at this carriage and where it disappears to.”

Bertie
hesitated. “Are you sure that is a wise idea?”

“
I think I need to draw them out a little. I am new to the
area, don’t forget, so have no idea what the locals are afraid of.
It would help me considerably to know which house they are going
to.”

Bertie
still looked cautious. “Why are you here, exactly?”

“
I can’t tell you that right now, but I can assure you Bertie
that I am working for king and country and have nothing but
everyone’s best interests at heart. If everything goes according to
plan, I can leave here in the not too distant future. Francesca
will be safe in the knowledge that she can refurbish the house she
can call home, and the villagers can be free to resume their
normal, unfettered lives without any threat from new
arrivals.”

He sat
still while Bertie studied him carefully for several moments, and
clearly made a decision. “Then I am pleased you are here, and am
happy to help you in any way I can,” he declared, holding his hand
out almost officiously.

Simon
shook the proffered hand, smiling companionably at the old man as
he pushed to his feet. “Same time tomorrow?”

“
Aye,” Bertie replied. “Count me in.”

Several
nights later Simon lay in a thick patch of bracken, trying not to
itch. He had been there since dusk had fallen and had to dig deep
to prevent himself from shifting against the discomfort that had
settled into his joints hours ago. He was fairly certain that
something was starting to gnaw on his side, and it was bothering
him.

He lay
high on the hill top that overlooked the rear of the tin mine,
watching the useless guard wander aimlessly around on his
circuitous route around the perimeter of the mine. But his eyes
were locked on the strange activities going on in the main building
of the mine itself. Although nobody had entered or left the mine, a
single candle now burned in the window of a small office to the far
end of the single-storey building. It had been lit a couple of
hours ago. Even through the gloom Simon could see a man bent over
papers on a desk. Forging papers maybe? Where he had come from,
Simon couldn’t tell, but he was fairly certain nobody was living in
the mine. So that left the problem of how he had managed to get
inside without being seen. Had he been there all day?

While he
carefully watched the night, Simon’s thoughts began to wander,
mainly in the direction of the strange goings on in Thistledown.
Thanks to Bertie, he now believed that Madeline was up to her neck
in something untoward, and she didn’t altogether have Francesca’s
best interests in mind. Although the woman hadn’t been overtly
defensive with anyone, she had yet to directly answer anyone’s
questions about her past, even Francesca’s.

Francesca.

Simon
sighed as the mental image of the woman who seemed to haunt him
swam before him. He had hardly seen her over the past few days. She
had taken to spending her days in the morning room at the front of
the house, carrying out her inventory with such intensity that she
had started to eat in there rather than joining the rest of them in
the kitchen.