The Surrender of Miss Fairbourne (35 page)

“Who gave you the messages that you gave Fairbourne?” Ambury asked. “Who instructed you on these deliveries and who paid you?”

“Sometimes the men I met gave me the messages to deliver. And sometimes…there might be another one who
came too, and made me explain how it had gone, and might give me messages or even notes to deliver, or I would deliver such to him. That one did not stay with me. I think he would go back, though.”

“You knew this was not about smuggling,” Kendale said dangerously. “I hope they paid you well for your treason.”

“Treason! Goods came in those boats and goods is what I brought to Mr. Fairbourne.”

“Goods and spies,” Kendale snarled.

Hodgson turned to Darius. “M’lord, you surely do not think that—”

Darius held up a hand to stop him. “Fairbourne was convenient to your duties. Once he died, that must have been a problem.”

“Hell of a problem, truth be told.”

“Were you told to replace him with his daughter? Is that why you were at the auction house?”

“Replace, hell. Same family. It was thought she knew what to do.” He shrugged. “Was easier for it to be her as someone else. She was happy enough to do it.”

Darius saw red. He was on his feet and halfway to Hodgson before Ambury caught his arm, hard, stopping him. Hodgson reared back at the threat, visibly shaken by Darius’s reaction.

Darius found some restraint, barely. He did not sit, however. Nor did Ambury. Mr. Hodgson looked up at the three of them now hovering over him. Darius’s fist still had not unclenched.

“You blackmailed Fairbourne and his daughter into this,” Darius said. “Why else would you have that sack of money and all this help you claim they gave? Fairbourne did not need whatever goods you brought him.”

“I keep telling ye. I did not do anything. I was only a messenger!”

Impatient now, Darius grabbed him by the coat again. “What message did you give that would make Maurice Fairbourne help you?”

“His son!” Hodgson yelped. “I was told to tell him his
son was being held, and would only live if he helped. He was to signal to the boat if all was clear, and take in a guest that I might bring now and then.”

“You fed him a lie, then. Did you ever see his son?”

“Of course not. Where would I see him? I was told to tell him that and I did, and I explained it to the daughter when she proved ignorant. She wanted to pay a ransom and be done with it. It was so high she had to help anyway.”

“Damn you.” Darius made to hit him again.

Ambury pulled Darius away and warned him off with a glare, then went and sat beside Mr. Hodgson. “You are in a bad spot here. There’s two men here ready to hang you now, and others who will be more than happy to do it later. Your only hope is if you can help us find some of these men whom you met on the coast and aided in entering England.”

“But I don’t know where they be now.” Hodgson was sweating badly, and appeared desperate. “I’d help if I could. I swear it.”

“That is unfortunate. However…perhaps you know if another one is coming soon,” Ambury suggested. “Are you expected to meet anyone on the coast again soon?”

Hodgson shot him a cautious look. He glanced over his shoulder at Kendale, and quickly checked Darius’s demeanor too.

“I was planning a journey to the coast again next week. That is how it is done. If the man doesn’t meet me the week he is supposed to, I go a fortnight later again.”

Darius did not want to hear more, if more was coming. He would not stand there while this bastard described how Emma would be signaling from the cliff walk and opening her cottage to spies looking for very discreet lodging.

He strode from the dressing room before he thrashed Hodgson bloody. He went to his bedchamber and slammed the door in his wake. His head filled with a fury so black he could barely contain it.

Damnation.
He should have seen it. Should have guessed. Smuggling, hell. He had been an idiot. Emma would never risk so much for so little. Of course the “everything else”
had to do with graver matters than a few wagons of illegally imported goods.

She should have told him
. He would have found a way to get her out of it. He would have shown her how her father’s refusal to accept Robert’s death had led to this, and how she must not allow herself to be coerced with the same stupid lie. He would have explained how holding steadfast on that belief created a vulnerability that anyone who knew of the belief could exploit. He would have—

His mind saw her in the garden, looking so lost after Hodgson left her. Was that when she had learned the real price? His memory of her there, so torn and confused and unbearably unhappy, made too much sense now. It touched him despite his chaotic thoughts and raw emotions.

She could not tell him, of course. She could not ask for his help, no matter what she thought was at stake. She did not trust him to spare her if he learned about it, either.

He strode to a table that held some books and took out a folded letter tucked in its drawer. The paper’s condition reflected the way he had crumbled it in his fist on first reading the words on it yesterday. His reaction had been immediate and explosive. If there had been a fire lit, he would have tossed it in.

He read it again now, and its meaning did not anger him nearly as much. He saw it was not the harsh repudiation he thought. Actually, it had little to do with him at all.

Ambury entered the bedchamber just as Darius was folding the letter again. He just stood there, as if expecting Darius to say something.

“I am sorry to learn that she is as involved as she is,” Ambury finally said.

It was the sympathy of a friend, but it was also a reminder of her betrayal.

“She thinks her brother is alive, just as her father did,” Darius said.

“Yes. However, that doesn’t make a difference in the end, does it?”

No, damn it
. His fear for her had become a burning coal in his chest.

“Kendale wants to use Hodgson and have him meet his man as planned. He thinks we then can follow the courier and find the men he meets with in London and elsewhere.” Ambury tried to sound skeptical. “You know Kendale—he is picturing an entire network brought down.”

Darius said nothing. There was great sense in Kendale’s plan, and Ambury knew it. The only flaw was that having Hodgson meet that boat and its special passenger would require allowing Emma to make her signal and give the spy refuge. They would use not only Hodgson, but also Miss Fairbourne. Instead of stopping her, they would let her play her designated role.

Ambury looked at him with eyes too aware and too concerned. “If you say the word, we will not do it. I think that I know what she means—”

“No. It must be done. If it is another courier, he might lead us to five more. Ten perhaps.”

Ambury did not reply.

“When does the game start?” Darius asked.

“Monday, Hodgson said. We can take him to the coast. Kendale has created a little army out of his household staff, it seems. His own private citizens’ unit. They will help. You need not be there.”

“Of course I will be there. I will go down to Kent tomorrow, and send my sister and aunt back to town so we can use Crownhill. I will inform the other gentlemen watchers of what is happening. I expect that most of them will join us, so your plans can assume plenty of eyes and pistols being available. I will also talk to Tarrington and alert him too, so he does not move on that boat until the man Hodgson is meeting has left the shore and moved inland.”

Ambury nodded. “We will come to Crownhill directly from town.”

Darius turned away. “Please get that man out of my house, Ambury. Let Kendale deal with him until you make the journey.”

Ambury left. Darius looked at the letter still in his hand. His mind saw Emma again in the garden. The memory of her distress pained him.

She thought she was saving her brother. It was, he supposed, the most noble reason imaginable for the most ignoble act. He was not at all sure, if he were in her place, that he could have chosen differently.

E
mma let herself into the cottage. She set down her valise and immediately opened the windows to air out the space. A breeze blew in, bringing with it the scents of the coast and the sounds of her hired carriage rolling away.

She set about unpacking the two baskets of food that she had purchased on the way. There would be no Mrs. Norriston to cook on this brief visit, and no Mr. Dillon to feed, so she had kept the provisions simple. Some ham and a few fresh eggs. Some bread and, as an indulgence, some peaches. She should probably eat something now, as it was evening, but she was too sick with worry to be hungry.

Once all had been sorted and stored, she went up the stairs and did the same with the garments she had brought. Then she went down again and searched for lanterns.

She found one in a kitchen cupboard, and two in the horse stable. Lining them up on the kitchen worktable, she fitted them with candles that she had brought with her. Then she lit one.

She sat with a book near that light. No pages turned, however. She kept watching night come, and checking the
time. She noted the hour when the last of twilight’s glow had faded. No clock chimed the time, but her heart and fear did.

In exactly twenty-four hours she would begin her mission to redeem her brother. Once it was over, surely she would reconcile herself to what she had done. The prize would surely be worth the price. Right now, however, she could muster no excitement or anticipation over seeing Robert again. She knew only a dread that left her unable to do anything but wait.

She slept well that night. So well that she wondered if already she had lost her soul. She made some preparations in the cottage for the guest she expected. She also loaded and hid the pistol she had brought. It had not passed her notice that in acting outside the law, she would be unable to expect laws to protect her.

At noon she left the cottage and trod the three hundred yards east to where the land fell away to the sea. She noted her path carefully, and even kicked aside some large rocks that might not be visible at night. She found the path that formed a long cliff walk, turned to her right, and followed it south to where it began its slow, long rise toward Dover.

She stopped finally, standing where she had stood one time before, at the spot below which Papa’s body had been found. She could see up and down the coast. She had not realized that if she could view so much of the sea from this spot, those on the sea could view her too.

Right now the prospects of the churning waves did not interest her. The ground around her feet did. It could be treacherous ground, as Papa had learned that night. There were places where the cliff walk veered too close to the edge, and other spots where time had weathered and weakened the edge itself.

She sat on the ground, and forced herself to contain the panic that wanted to rule her. If that happened, she might make a mistake. She might even run away. The only way to control her composure, however, was to remain forever alert
and to permit no wild images of either failure or retribution to invade her head.

She closed her eyes and clenched her whole self against the fear. She tried to let the sea breeze refresh her, but it seemed only to worsen the unending shivers that had begun in the garden that day.

Annoyed at how these unknown men had robbed her of herself, she stood and brushed off her dress. It was then that she saw the carriage down the rise to the west, like a blot on her vision as she squinted west into the setting sun. Her eyes adjusted a bit, and she noticed the dark form of a man walking toward her.

As he neared, the sun’s glare no longer obscured his features. Southwaite!

Guilt urged flight. She swallowed the impulse, and tried to find a face that would not appear desperate.

He came up to her, and stopped no more than an arm span away. He smiled.

“Hello, Emma.”

“I
thought you were going to the lake district,” Darius said while they walked north. Down at the bottom of the hill his carriage moved along too, at the same slow pace.

“The intention of my letter was not to inform you of my plans to retreat for some rest. I had not decided yet where I would go. I did not feel compelled to explain my choice once I made it.”

Darius welcomed her testy tone. She had appeared so pale when he first saw her face. Pale and drawn and confused by his presence. At least now she had mustered enough of the Emma he knew to be annoyed.

He pretended not to notice how agitated his presence made her, but he saw it in her stiffness and in the haunted expression in her eyes. And in the way she did not look at him directly, as if she knew she could hide nothing if she did.

She stopped walking and frowned. “Since you have made
reference to my letter, I know that you received it. Considering its content, your insistence on this stroll and conversation is perplexing.”

“Forthright as always, I see. Yes, I read it. I did not care for the contents. I am not used to being thrown over with so little ceremony, and with no reason.”

“No reason? That is rich, Southwaite. The reasons are so obvious as to not need enumeration. You felt obligated to offer marriage because of all the excellent reasons for me to end such a liaison. Now, please, go seduce someone else and leave me in peace.”