Smuggler's Kiss (21 page)

‘Easy,’ I said confidently.

To my surprise Will leaned forward and kissed me lightly on the cheek. Then, as though regretting this gesture, he left the room hurriedly and could next be heard talking heartily to Jacob in the back garden. I sat quite still, wondering what he had meant by it.

I went with Will and Jacob as far as Kimmeridge that day. We walked down towards Chapman’s Pool where Will and I had once rejoined the ship, but instead of descending the steep drop to the cove, we only went down a short way before crossing the stream and walking on up to the next headland.

It had snowed in the night; just a light powdering that adorned the frozen ground and made the day bright. It was bitterly cold and the ground was frozen hard. I wore my breeches, boots and coat as they were more suitable for the long walk and for the cold than a gown, and would make walking back alone safer for me. Jacob had lent me a thick fur hat that was much too big for me. It kept slipping over my eyes as we walked.

‘I must look a complete fright,’ I remarked.

‘Who cares? The main thing is to be warm enough,’ replied Will.

‘I
do
look a complete fright,’ I said dolefully. ‘You don’t deny it.’

Will just laughed. ‘Well, put it this way: Isabelle-the-lady wouldn’t have dressed like this. But then she couldn’t have managed this walk either. She would have missed this beautiful morning.’

It really was beautiful: bright, frozen, and sparkling. We followed the cliffs along the coast for miles. Above Kimmeridge Ledges, another crew member joined us. He and Jacob walked ahead, striding out along the rough path. Will and I followed more slowly. The sun had broken through the clouds and the sea sparkled brightly to our left, hardly any waves disturbing the gleaming turquoise surface. It grew milder and I could pull Jacob’s hat off my head at last. We talked as we walked, and I felt that Will was more relaxed than he had been all Christmas.

‘Are you looking forward to being at sea again?’ I asked him.

Will’s eyes sparkled. ‘I am,’ he admitted. ‘Christmas was very pleasant to be sure, but now I’m ready for some excitement.’

I felt a tug of sadness that he was so glad to be going away from me. Then I took myself sternly to task. Will wasn’t at all the kind of man a lady like me should miss. He was wild, unsettled, and had far too many revolutionary views.

The next headland opened out a view down into Kimmeridge Bay. It was an unattractive bay compared to many on this magnificent stretch of coast. The cliffs were low and formed of crumbling black stone rather than bright white chalk. The beach was a mixture of dark sand and pebble. Slabs of dark ledge showed treacherously out in the bay with each sigh and ebb of the waves. The wind caught at my hair and whipped it back from my face. Gulls called their haunting cries as they glided over the sea below us. In the distance, a ship headed up the channel under full sail.

Beside me, Will paused. ‘This is Hen Cliff we’re standing on now,’ he said. He reached for my hand and held it as we stood looking out at the water side by side. I didn’t dare look at him.

‘I’m sorry for what happened to you,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m sorry that your family’s loss of fortune had such consequences for you. The end of your betrothal … I can’t imagine the despair, the heartbreak that drove you to walk into the sea that night.’

I bit my lip and looked straight ahead. Oh, how wrongly he had interpreted my half-told tale. I felt ashamed to be receiving his sympathy. I didn’t deserve it. Not in the way he thought.

I opened my mouth to put him right. ‘Will … ’ I began. ‘It wasn’t … I didn’t … ’

‘You don’t need to say anything,’ Will interrupted me. He squeezed my hand and then released it. ‘Look, this cliff is where we need you to come and walk,’ he said, changing the subject abruptly. He turned to show me the path along the cliff, and I saw Jacob approaching.

‘Explained the task?’ asked Jacob.

‘I’m about to,’ Will said.

‘This is Will’s idea,’ Jacob explained. ‘Instead of using lanterns that could be spotted by Navy sloops or Revenue cutters, we use a human signal that’s known only to us. You walk at an agreed time on the cliff in that red cloak. We know as it means the coast is clear to land the goods.’

‘And how will I know if the coast is clear?’ I asked Will with a touch of shyness.

‘You have a clear view from this cliff,’ said Will, indicating the bay and the farmland stretching behind it with a sweep of his hand. ‘This whole area is like a natural amphitheatre with the bay as its stage.’

It was true. I looked inland and noted the way the land sloped gradually upwards from the bay in each direction, ending in high hills all the way around. It was open ground; pastureland with barely a tree.

‘The landers will meet you here. If you’re due to walk at four, be here by mid-afternoon to spy out the surroundings. Stay hidden, keep your eyes open. They’ll do the same. If there’s Philistines about, keep your cloak and yourself well out of sight. If not, you walk.’

‘And if it isn’t clear, how will you land the goods?’

‘Same thing the next day,’ said Jacob. ‘And if that’s no good either, we have a new
rendez-vous
arranged for the third night. The landers will get a message to you if need be.’

‘Very well,’ I agreed. ‘I’ll play my part.’

‘Good girl,’ said Jacob with a nod of approval. ‘I know Ann’s got some work for you before then too. I reckon you’ll enjoy it. We need to be leaving you now. Can you find your way back?’

‘I can,’ I said confidently. It had been very straightforward getting here: we’d followed the same cliff path most of the way. Jacob gave me a great bear hug, a whiskery kiss on the cheek, tousled my hair and told me to look after myself. He turned away and I was left facing Will, unsure how to make my goodbyes to him. Should I offer to shake his hand or give him a casual nod? Will surprised me again by following Jacob’s example and pulling me into a hug. I hugged him back, my heart unruly in my chest. I pressed my cold face against his warm, woollen coat as he held me close, and then it was over, no more words exchanged. I was standing alone on the high cliff, watching him stride away from me.

I felt hot tears prick my eyes and a confusion of emotions within me as I watched the men grow smaller in the distance and disappear. Will turned at the last minute and raised his hand in farewell, but before I could respond, he’d vanished from sight.

The long, lonely walk home in the fading afternoon did not serve to resolve my tangled feelings into any kind of order. I’d led Will to believe I’d been driven to take my own life due to a broken heart. When the truth was … much more sordid. In the first weeks and months aboard
The Invisible
, I’d been too angry and confused to think things through and later, too content and too busy with my new life to face up to the mess that I’d left behind me. The thought tortured me. I resolved that next time I saw Will, I would confess everything to him. I would be truthful. No matter how hard it was.

Perhaps he would think it was me that had behaved badly. Maybe he would despise me. I’d changed so much that it was hard to connect the girl who was the belle of the ballroom with the person I’d now become. My former life was remote and unreal.

Ann greeted me with supper when I returned. Freshly baked bread, a piece of cheese and some ham pie were set out on the table. I stepped from the frosty dusk in through the kitchen door, and sighed with relief to be back in the warmth and glow of the firelight. Ann took my coat and asked after the day. It eased my heartache to feel her kindness.

I slept badly that night. I tossed and turned on my narrow bed, shivering under the blankets and going restlessly over and over in my mind how I could explain everything to Will. I tried to imagine how I would tell him the dreadful, humiliating truth. Sometimes I thought Will would turn from me in disgust. At others, that he would understand. I would lose myself briefly in a happy dream of the future. But this always ended with one unanswerable fact: by my own actions, I had made sure there could be no happy ending for me.

When I finally fell asleep, the dark door loomed before me, light seeping around the edges. I knew my usual craven impulse to flee; to run from what waited behind it. But this time, I didn’t. I walked up to it boldly, put my hand upon the door handle and turned it. But then as light flooded over me, I lost my courage, closed my eyes tight shut and screamed. I screamed so loudly that I woke myself and brought Ann running into my room in her nightgown and cap. ‘Whatever is the trouble, child?’ she asked, looking sleepy and confused.

‘Just a nightmare,’ I told her. If I couldn’t tell Ann the truth, how was I going to tell Will?

I expected the following weeks to be empty and dull and wondered how I would get through them. But Ann had some surprises for me. The third day I was alone with her, I came down to the kitchen to the aroma of bubbling sugar. A large cauldron of some sweet substance was hot on the fire, filling the kitchen with its caramel scent. Pouring this golden substance into two urns, Ann took one herself and gave another to me to carry. Wondering what this was, and what kind of work could take us out of the house on such a cold, dark winter’s morning, I wrapped myself up, and followed her.

I learned that morning that the brandy we brought across from France was clear, but that the English liked it a golden honey colour. So the women on shore set up little workshops in barns, caves, and vaults and doctored the bulk of the cognac with caramel. I also learned that the near-proof brew we brought was so strong it could blind you. I helped dilute it, pouring it carefully into larger barrels to be taken inland to Bath and Salisbury by cart. The women explained why the Cousin Jacky was brought over so strong: even concentrated as it was, there was so much carrying involved in bringing it secretly up from the coast. It made sense, but I’d had no idea how many women were involved in the trade.

The domestic life I experienced at Ann’s was also an eye-opener for me. It wasn’t desperate poverty. But it was poverty nonetheless. She made and scraped, saved and took great care to waste nothing. Even when my family had been in reduced circumstances, we’d not known the need for such economies. In fact, when I thought of the lavish meals that had been set on our table throughout my life, I squirmed. We’d always had far more than we needed and so much had always been sent away again uneaten. Presumably the servants had consumed much of it, but I didn’t know for sure. I’d never given the waste a thought until now.

‘If it weren’t for the trade,’ Ann said simply, ‘we’d starve come winter. Be thrown on the parish too, like as not, for poor relief. Oh the shame! And those as starve all winter, ain’t strong enough for work when it does come in spring.

‘But with Jacob bringing home money from the trade, and the hens, the pig, and our bit of a garden for growing some onions and so on, we can get by.’

‘But doesn’t he bring home a great deal of money?’ I asked, thinking of all those runs we’d made; great cargoes of brandy, snuff, lace, and other goods besides.

‘Not as much as he should,’ said Ann bitterly. ‘It’s the financier that gets the lion’s share. Ain’t that the way of the world? Them that’s rich gets richer and them that’s poor does all the hard work.’ She shook her head and then added, ‘And it’s even harder now they’re saving … but mum for that.’ She refused to say more.

The day of the run into Kimmeridge dawned cold and clear. Ann shook her head at the bright sky and muttered under her breath that heavy cloud would have been a deal more to her taste.

‘It’s new moon, though,’ I said comfortingly. ‘There’ll be little enough light to betray them.’

‘There’ll be enough,’ she said darkly. ‘We worry, Isabelle. Those of us left behind. We sit here helpless, and there’s little we can do to keep our men safe. Just keep our mouths shut and pray.’

I nodded, but tonight I
was
doing something to help, and the blood pulsed quicker in my veins at the thought. I wondered at myself. It seemed strange for me to be delighting in the prospect of danger. But then, as I’d already acknowledged to myself, I’d changed.