The Secret Duke (18 page)

A man loaded her small trunk into a cart and set off. Following behind, Bella felt almost light- headed with lack of sleep, but the sea air, made crisp by a slight September chill, woke her up. She began to enjoy being Bella Barstowe, independent and purposeful.

As she drew close to the Compass, however, her new confidence began to fail her. She’d never gone into an inn alone before. Well, she’d entered the Goat—and been taken for a whore!

Clocks struck and she realized it was noon. Was Orion Hunt waiting at the Goat? How would he react when Kelano didn’t arrive? She must hope he’d lose interest. There’d be no more folly like that.

“Ma’am?”

She realized the man with her luggage was looking at her oddly, as if he feared her wits were awry. She squared her shoulders and walked on. No one could think her a whore this time, in her Bellona gown and with her hair drawn back tightly beneath cap and hat.

So it proved. She was given a room without quibble. It was a small room that looked out into a narrow alley, but what else could a governess expect? At least the maid promptly brought a jug of hot water and seemed eager to be of service.

Bella washed and unpacked, but she left the pistol case in her small valise. The maid might look in a drawer. She longed to crawl into the bed, but she must find Billy, so she set out for the Crown and Anchor. She didn’t want to enter the inn, for there might be someone who could recognize the girl who’d arrived with two men. Heaven alone knew what the people there had thought of it all, but it wouldn’t be to the credit of reputation. In any case, as she wanted a stable boy, she entered the busy coaching yard and caught a middle-aged man’s attention.

“Billy Jakes, ma’am? Left two years ago to work for Sir Muncy Hexton, out Litten way. He do something wrong, ma’am?”

“Not at all. I was asked to give a message to him.”

“A message?” said the man, much surprised, but then a laden coach rolled in and he hurried away.

Bella too hurried away before anyone grew suspicious. Suspicious of what, she wasn’t sure. But she was feeling furtive.

Memory had her retracing her flight that night, which brought her to the busy quay. She walked close to the buildings, where it was quieter, looking for the Black Rat, but she didn’t see it. Perhaps it had become the Red Cock, or the Jolly Tar.

The area was as rough and pungent as she remembered, but freshened by a brisk sea breeze and sunshine, as it hadn’t been that night. There’d been a mist, she remembered, cold on the skin and rendering everything ghostly.

She’d not have entered the Rat if she’d seen it by daylight, but she’d known her captors were in pursuit and ducked into a hiding spot. . . .

Such folly. But what else could she have done?

She turned her back on the buildings and her memories to look at the boats filling the harbor. Was one the
Black Swan
? She hoped not.

Would it be painted black?

She strained to read names. The
Dotty Philips
. The
Kentish Hope
. The
Singing Willie
.

She walked on, but when she saw the harbormaster’s office, she went in and asked if they kept lists of ships in the harbor. A busy clerk pointed her to two large slates on the wall on which names were written. She went over and saw one was for arrivals and one for departures. The
Black Swan
wasn’t on either.

Better so
, she told herself. She needed to learn a lot more about Captain Rose before making any decision. There was a saying that revenge was a dish best eaten cold. At first, right after her encounter with Coxy, she’d have gulped it down scalding hot, but she was more in control of herself now. She would have her revenge, but she would not destroy herself in the process. It must all be carefully worked out.

She returned to the Compass, considering going immediately in search of Billy Jakes, but early or not, she was simply too tired. She went up to her room and surrendered to the bed.

She slept through to the early morning. Very early. It was hardly dawn when she woke, so she didn’t try to summon a servant, even though the fire had died and the room was chilly. She bundled herself in the coverlet and sat to make notes on her plans.

Her pen hung idle for a moment as she contemplated how perfect it would be if Augustus died. Dead, he could never hurt anyone again.

Alas, from cowardice or morality, she couldn’t make it so. It would be wonderful to hear that he’d broken his neck, but she couldn’t push him off a cliff, or even hire someone to do it.

The door opened and a scruffily dressed girl crept in. She started to see Bella awake, her bucket of coals clattering. “Oh, beggin’ your pardon, miss! I’ve come to get the fire going.”

“Please do,” Bella said with a smile.

The girl hurried to the fireplace, head down as if she were trying to hide inside her large mobcap.

When the flames were licking, Bella said, “Is it too early for hot water and breakfast?”

The girl’s eyes were huge. “I’ll tell ’em, miss. Won’t be too long, I’m sure, miss. Got to go now, miss.”

She backed out of the room, clearly unaccustomed to actually encountering an awake guest, poor thing, and perhaps not much over ten.

Perhaps there were useful things she could do for young girls forced into work, though that one probably thought herself fortunate to have employment.

Bella looked at her blank sheet of paper, despairing of her dithering mind. There were people at Lady Fowler’s who were so sure of themselves. Lady Fowler herself, the Drummond sisters, and even sour Hortensia Sprott. At least the matter of Billy Jakes might be simple.

She dipped her pen and wrote:
Find out how far away Litten is and hire carriage if necessary.
There. A start.

Next she must tackle the subject of Captain Rose.

She dipped the pen again and wrote:
Stir gossip about R.

She would learn about Captain Rose, his character and activities, from the servants here.

She dipped her pen and added:
Enjoy peaceful solitude and time to think.

This was the first time in her life that she’d been alone, with no one in authority over her, no one dependent on her, and no pressures or obligations. When she was dressed quietly, men were unlikely to pester her or even notice her. Who was more unobtrusive than a soberly dressed governess?

It was all a blessed relief.

When the hot water arrived, brought by a more senior maid, Bella established her reputation as a gossip by engaging her in general talk. She discovered Louisa had worked at the Compass for five years, first as an undermaid and then as she was now, and liked her place here.

How strange to think that Louisa had been here in 1760. Had there been any gossip among the servants about the goings-on in the stables? It would be unsafe to raise that question, however.

When Louisa returned with breakfast, Bella had her assist with the stays as a way of keeping her there a little longer.

Was Dover particularly busy at the moment?

Did the Compass have any notable guests?

Were there dangerous smugglers or pirates hereabouts?

The name Captain Rose never came up.

Before the maid left, Bella asked her about the distance to Litten and the weather forecast.

Three miles, and the day would be clear but crisp.

Bella told her she’d need a one- horse chair after breakfast, and when she went downstairs it was waiting for her. Armed with precise directions to Sir Muncy Hexton’s house, where Billy Jakes worked, she set off, hoping she retained her ability to drive a simple carriage.

The horse was steady, needing little guidance, so her skills weren’t challenged. As they ambled along country roads, the journey became another pleasant escape. This was so different from crowded London, and she was bothered by nothing more than the occasional bird or animal, and a few other travelers who merely exchanged good-days.

There were tranquil places in the world, and ordinary people living good, ordinary lives. It was easy to forget that.

She was a little sad when she arrived at her destination.

The modest manor house lay on the edge of the village of Litten Gorling, fronting the village street. A high wall ran backward along a lane, and Bella took that direction, seeking the stables. The lane followed the wall in a turn to the left, with laden orchards on her right and harvested fields beyond.

Ahead of her lay a stable block. She drove in, and when a young man ran out to hold her horse, Bella asked, “Are you Billy Jakes?”

He’d grown tall and filled out, but it had to be him.

He glanced at her warily, but nodded. “I am, ma’am. Can I help you?”

Bella climbed down unaided. “I’m wondering if you still have my silver cross and chain, Billy. No matter if you don’t, but if you do, I’ll keep my promise at last and exchange it for coin.”

He stared at her and color touched his cheeks. “You’re safe then, miss. Ma’am. I always wondered. Me talking that nonsense about princesses. Yes, I’ve your silver still.” He looked troubled. “Do you truly want it back? I’ve thought of giving it to my Anne. We’re courting,” he added shyly, but with such a lovely smile that Bella envied his sweetheart. “I’ve not done so yet because her father’d want to know where I got it.”

“You’d rather keep it than have the coin?”

“I know it’s foolish, ma’am, but it’s so pretty, and I still think of you as my princess. And now Anne’s my princess. She deserves pretty things.”

Bella felt almost tearful. “Then she should have it. What if I were to speak to Anne’s father and tell him it was a reward for a great service?”

A big grin spread. “That’d be grand, ma’am! And if he accepted that as truth, no one else would question it.”

“Then tell me where to find him.”

“No need of that, ma’am, for here he is, coming to see what’s going on. He’s the head groom, ma’am. Mr. Bickleby.”

Bella turned and saw a sinewy, grizzled-haired man whose queue was thin because the top of his head was completely bald.

“What’s this then, Billy?” he demanded. “Why’re you keeping the lady talking?”

Bella smiled. “Mr. Bickleby, please don’t be angry with Billy. It is I who have kept him in conversation. In fact, I came here to speak with him.”

Spiky brows lowered. “What’s he done, then?”

“Been a hero,” Bella said firmly.

The man bridled back. “What?”

“Perhaps I could speak to you in private, Mr. Bickleby, while Billy waters my horse?”

After some suspicious glances, the man led her into a small room. “Well, then, what’s all this about, ma’am?”

Bella told him a very brief and edited version of her story. “I regret the delay in returning, but Billy did me a great service and I would be happy for him to have the chain and cross as reward and to give it to your daughter.”

The man pulled another face, but he was nodding. “Aye, she’d like that. And she likes him. They’re both young, but both have a steady head, and Billy’s a good, honest worker.”

“You may tell the story if you must, Mr. Bickleby, but I would rather my name not be attached to it.”

“No trouble about that, ma’am. None of anyone else’s business if I say I’m satisfied about it.”

“Excellent. Thank you.”

Bella turned to go, but the man said, “Are you in more trouble, ma’am?”

She turned back, stiffening.

“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but you’re not that many years older than Billy and Anne, I reckon, and here you are, alone.”

Bella knew he meant well, but his concern seemed to threaten her freedom. “I’m in no trouble, Mr. Bickleby, but I thank you for your kindness.”

“As you say, ma’am. But it’s not good to be alone, for man nor maid.”

Bella almost objected again, but then she said, “No, it isn’t. But sometimes it is our fate.”

He looked skeptical, but didn’t persist. Bella went back to where Billy was walking her horse. “All’s well.”

His face shone with happiness. A trite phrase, but Bella hadn’t seen the effect before.

When had she ever felt so gloriously happy?

And when, if ever, would she?

She drove out back toward Dover with her vision blurred by idiotic tears. They turned into fuel for her anger at Augustus, however. By now, she might have loved and been loved by a good man if not for her vile brother.

She returned to Dover as the sun was setting, wishing Captain Rose were at the Compass, so she might be able to set out upon vengeance immediately.

When Louise came up with her supper, Bella asked—idly, she hoped—about new guests.

Only two families. Of course Captain Rose hadn’t turned up.

As she drank soup and ate grilled cheese, Bella considered. She wanted to find out about Captain Rose, and she didn’t want to return to her uncomfortable Bellona life in London.

She could extend her stay here to at least a week, but she’d need occupation. This might be a pleasant escape from her normal life, but she didn’t like idleness, so she’d buy some cambric and make handkerchiefs. Perhaps she would give them as farewell gifts to the ladies at Lady Fowler’s.

Before she went to bed, she wrote a letter to Peg, telling her all was well and not to expect a return within the week. The next morning she walked to the shops and purchased a book to read and some cambric and thread. She had her small needlework case with her, and over her years at Carscourt the simple matter of hemming handkerchiefs had become soothing.

She had another purpose as well: it gave her occupation as she sat in the small parlor provided for the use of guests. The parlor lay off the front hall, warmed by a fire and containing a few chairs and a desk at which guests could write letters.

A newspaper was placed there every day, and Bella read it, but it was always one or two days old, and the news seemed from a distant world. She tried to avoid items she’d once have noted for Lady Fowler. That part of her life was definitely over, but she did see a small section to do with the revels, informing the reader that Lord and Lady G——n were happily reconciled and en route for his lordship’s family home in Devon. Bella felt happy for them, and pleased that the Fowler letter wouldn’t attempt to exaggerate what had clearly been a minor drama.