Smuggler's Kiss (30 page)

They got up to go. ‘You need to rest, now,’ said my father. ‘You have a few more days before the hearing.’

My mother bent and kissed me tearfully. ‘We need you to do this for us,’ she whispered. ‘You would hate the poverty we would otherwise endure even more than we would. Make up your mind to go back to your husband, Isabelle. You married him of your own free will. And you will be utterly ruined if you do not.’ She shed a few tears over me and left.

I lay pale and shaken after they had gone. My nurse checked my pulse and tutted over me, shaking her head. ‘Too much excitement,’ she said. ‘Rest now!’

But it was impossible to recapture the peaceful lethargy from before my parents’ visit. I could not see how to be loyal to both my parents and my shipmates. My husband I cared nothing about. He had forfeited any right to my concern. But no matter what he’d done, I hadn’t earned the marriage settlement. I’d left him practically standing at the altar.

Should I tell my parents’ version of the story? It would secure my family’s financial future, but it would condemn me to returning to my husband. And it would mean sacrificing the crew of
The Invisible
. Unthinkable!

If I told the truth, or something near it, I could spare them all. My family would be sacrificed instead. And had we not brought our poverty on ourselves? No one but us should suffer for my father’s speculation and loss.

With this painful choice before me, and with the uncertainty of whether Will and Jacob had even survived that terrible night, I turned restlessly all night long, sleepless and uncomfortable.

The day of the hearing dawned soft and mild, the gentle sunshine and light breeze caressing and entirely out of keeping with the storm of uncertainty still raging within me.

I was conveyed in a carriage by my parents and my father’s lawyer, a thin, anxious-looking man with down-turned lips and a grey complexion. He talked all the way to the hearing about how important it was for me to say just what I’d been told and no more. He’d been to see me twice and had coached me in my story. He’d assured me that it would do no good to tell the court that Mr Holbrook was the financier for the smuggling runs.

‘He’ll have himself well covered,’ he assured me. ‘He has already claimed the men were hiring his boat for fishing and he later became suspicious that they were running contraband. He was the one who reported them. Not to mention that half the magistrates are on dinner-invitation terms with him. No, that is a line that will lead precisely nowhere.’

He’d told me I needed to look innocent, appealing and to dress in a very feminine way, as the jury would no doubt be told the shocking story that I’d been dressed as a man when they found me.

My mother sighed over my hair, which she’d done her best to dress prettily, but with less success than she’d hoped, for it was still scandalously short.

‘Well, no one need know when that happened,’ I pointed out reasonably. ‘I’ve been ill, and people sometimes have their hair cut right off when they are ill.’

When I took my place in the courtroom, my hands, encased in delicate white kid gloves, trembled in my lap, and clutched a lace pocket-handkerchief. I was wearing a modest white silk gown, giving an impression, my mother had explained, of youth and innocence. A silk shawl, edged with lace, was caught over my elbows, and a simple pearl necklace had been fastened around my neck. I should have felt like myself again. The clothes were certainly pretty. I had no objection to wearing them. But I couldn’t help thinking that they probably cost more than a whole summer of wages for a man like Jacob.

My husband was called to speak first. I looked at him as he stood there, slightly stooped, his hair greying, and unwanted memories crowded into my mind. He caught my eye. There was a calculating, smug look in his. He counted me defeated already. I wondered how I’d ever thought it was going to be all right to marry him. I’d been a naive child, promised treats and riches, and I’d fallen for it.

My husband explained how I’d disappeared from my room as soon as we’d arrived at the manor. How my shoes had been found on the beach. He told the court that at first it had been thought I’d drowned. But then my gown had been found aboard
The Invisible
. A reward had been offered and several witnesses had come forward who believed they had seen me, including Oswald, the riding officer. My husband’s solicitor put forward the notion that he’d been deliberately tricked by me. My husband agreed sorrowfully. He played the hurt, deserted husband.

The skipper of
The Invisible
was called next. He was detained on two charges. The first, smuggling, was to be heard the following day. But he stood here now accused of conspiracy to defraud Mr Holbrook of the marriage settlement.

He spoke simply and well. He explained that he and his crew were fishermen. Some of his crew members had found me in the sea and rescued me. That I refused to tell them who I was or where I was from, so it had been difficult to know what to do with me.

‘She told us she was of age,’ concluded the skipper. ‘So I could see no reason not to let her stay with us for a time.’

Asked whether I’d been with them all winter, he returned a negative. I’d spent spells on land; he’d understood I was with my family.

It all sounded very reasonable, I thought. Surely no one could blame the men for their part in my disappearance? When he denied the accusation that he had kidnapped me, he did so most emphatically. But the prosecution ridiculed him and made him look like a criminal. I started to feel sick.

At last I was called. I stood up on shaking legs and walked to the front. I took an oath to tell the truth. Then I stood in the witness stand. I forced myself to look out over the court. I looked at my parents; anxious and bowed. I looked at the skipper, and I even met my husband’s eyes. His eyes ran over me coldly.

When the defence asked me my name, I looked up again, and spoke out clearly that I was Isabelle Latimer, now Holbrook, and that I was ready to speak. My mother caught my eye and her eyes gave me an anguished plea. My heart twisted inside me.

I agreed that I had married Mr Holbrook willingly and accompanied him to his mansion. As I was speaking, someone else caught my eye. It was a tall, angular-looking woman in an ill-fitting pink dress and an outmoded red bonnet that clashed horribly. I was just wondering who would choose such an appalling combination, and thinking that the face looked rather familiar when the woman winked at me. Unmistakably, she winked. How very strange. I looked harder.

‘Did you hear me, Mrs Holbrook?’ asked the solicitor again. The judge rapped sharply with his gavel, startling me, and I returned my attention hurriedly to my solicitor.

‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t hear.’

‘I asked whether you were coerced to leave the manor that night or whether you left of your own free will,’ he repeated.

I looked back at the woman. She tilted her bonnet back and grinned at me, then drew it down again. But in that second, recognition had come to me. Will was here in the courtroom. He was safe! But what a risk he was taking coming here. He was a wanted man and he had walked right into the lion’s den.

The sight of Will made everything clear to me. I must tell the truth; more of it than I had intended to tell.

‘I climbed out of my bedchamber window,’ I said in a clear, carrying voice. I was speaking to Will. Everyone else ceased to exist for me. ‘It was impossible for me to remain a moment longer with my husband.’

‘Did you have any plan? Did you know where you were going to go?’ the solicitor asked. He sounded jumpy, seeing I was deviating from the part he had coached me into over the past few days.

‘I had no plan at all. I just walked out.’

‘And you didn’t steal anything?’

‘I took nothing at all but the clothes I was married in,’ I said. ‘No one kidnapped me, I saw no one either in the house, the grounds or on the beach. There was no one involved in what I did but me.’

‘What … what did you do next?’ asked our solicitor weakly.

‘I followed the path across the fields and down to the beach,’ I said. ‘When I reached the beach, I walked along the water’s edge.’

I was aware I was lying now, and it made me uncomfortable. But if I confessed I had attempted to drown myself, I would face imprisonment.

‘A very high wave caught me and swept me into the sea,’ I said. I wasn’t sure I sounded very convincing. There were mutters from those present.

‘I was pulled out of the water,’ I continued hurriedly. ‘I was rescued by some fishermen.’ I pointed at the skipper. ‘This man was in charge of the fishing boat,’ I said. ‘I told them I was an orphan and they kindly let me stay on board. It wasn’t their fault I didn’t tell them the truth.’

The judge rapped for silence. My solicitor looked bemused, as though he no longer knew what to ask me. He made a visible effort to pull himself together: ‘What possible reason could a new bride have to run away?’ he asked feebly. ‘She should be perfectly happy.’

My mother was crying softly. But I kept my eyes on Will as I spoke: ‘I had a very good reason to leave.’

He looked at me, half eagerly. This was the truth I’d been too ashamed to tell him until now. The door I’d been keeping so tightly closed flew open. I looked straight at the images that had haunted me and found they were not so frightening now as they had been. Will was here.

‘At the wedding reception,’ I said, ‘I left the room for a breath of fresh air. It was so crowded and I was feeling faint. I walked down a corridor and opened the door to another room. I thought I could find some quiet and hide away for a few minutes. But someone was already in there. My husband. And he was … ’ I hesitated, suddenly remembering that others besides Will were listening. This realization almost stole my courage for a moment. I gathered it, gripped my hands tightly together and went on: ‘ … locked in an embrace with another woman. His vows to me of less than an hour before clearly meant nothing to him.’

There was shock in Will’s eyes. And gasps around him. A great rustling and shuffling and the judge rapped for silence, but didn’t get it.

In the commotion, someone tugged at my sleeve and told me the hearing had been adjourned. I looked across at Will. He nodded to me and then got up and slipped away.

The next hour or so passed in a blur of questions and people rushing about arguing. The next thing that made any sense to me was coming face to face with my husband with only our solicitors for company. I stared at him without remorse and he scowled.

‘None of what you said just now makes any difference,’ he told me. ‘I broke no law. No one cares what I did. You still stand accused of stealing, smuggling, and desertion.’

‘So why are we here, talking?’ I asked him. ‘Why aren’t we still in court?’

It wasn’t easy to face him. Six months ago, I couldn’t have done it. But I was so much braver now. I looked him over. He was dressed expensively but without taste in breeches, silk stockings, a colourful waistcoat and a coat with whaleboned skirts. He held a costly cane in one hand and a valuable snuff box in the other.

I thought how hard his men worked for him, the risks they took and the damage the smuggling inflicted on their health. The cold of the winter nights, the strain of carrying the kegs; all these things took their toll upon them. So that this man could dress expensively and yet still betray them. He disgusted me. I tried to put the thought aside and meet his eyes.

‘You have to drop this,’ I told him.

He looked taken aback. ‘Drop it? Madam, you’ve made a fool of me.’

‘So you would have me and the men who’ve risked their lives for your profit all winter hang for your pride?’ I asked him. ‘There were no goods stolen from your house. That is pure fabrication to give you a reason to pursue me.’

Mr Holbrook didn’t reply for a moment, he looked at me measuringly. I saw him quite differently now. Once I’d seen him as a harmless older man; quite kind even. Now I saw a man who was happy to exploit the men who worked for him; even to betray them to get his way. Who had almost certainly attempted to turn his own agent in to collect a reward. It shouldn’t surprise me that he would lie to see his young bride hang. All because he couldn’t keep his hands off even younger women.

My mother was wrong, I thought to myself. You
do
meet pirates at the Bath assemblies. I married one I met there in the mistaken belief he was a gentleman.

‘No,’ said Mr Holbrook at last. ‘You
have
robbed me, you know.’

‘The marriage settlement? That’s true, though it was never my intention. If I engage to return that to you, will you then drop the other charges against me? And against the others?’

Mr Holbrook thought again, his wily eyes watching me closely. ‘Maybe,’ he said at last.

‘Maybe isn’t good enough,’ I told him. ‘I need your written promise.’

‘I can drop the charges against you,’ Mr Holbrook said. ‘Marlow and the other smugglers are out of my hands.’

‘But not beyond your influence, I think.’

He smiled smugly. ‘Perhaps. But I cannot give any kind of written promise.’