Читать книгу Marianne and the Marquis - Anne Herries - Страница 11

Marianne glanced at the woman sitting opposite her in her uncle’s comfortable carriage. Lord Wainwright employed Sally as the housekeeper’s assistant, and he had insisted on sending her with his niece, because she was five and twenty and a capable young woman.

‘You will need to break your journey for at least two nights, and if there should be an accident to the coach you might be marooned at an inn for a day or so while the repairs are done. I should be anxious if I thought you alone, Marianne. You are still young and innocent, though I know you are very sensible. However, I should feel easier in my mind if you had Sally Jones to accompany you, because she will look out for you, my dear.’

‘Then I shall be very happy to have Sally as my companion for the journey,’ Marianne told him. ‘You have been so considerate, Uncle, and I cannot thank you enough.’

‘You are a good girl and deserve every consideration,’ he had told her and kissed her cheek.

So far her uncle’s fears for her journey had proved unfounded, but it had passed the hours more pleasantly having someone to talk to—though Sally had been sleeping for the past hour or so. Marianne might have followed her example, except that she enjoyed looking out of the window. Her thoughts were already with her great-aunt. It was some years since she had seen Aunt Bertha and she was wondering if she might find her much changed.

Suddenly, the coach halted amidst a jangling of brasses and some juddering that shook Sally awake, making her rub her eyes and look at Marianne in bewilderment.

‘What has happened, miss?’

‘We have stopped for some reason,’ Marianne said. She looked out of the window. ‘I think there has been an accident to a coach ahead of us…yes, it appears that several men are helping to push it to the side of the road.’ She opened her door and got down, looking at Lord Wainwright’s groom as he came up to her.

‘I had to stop, Miss Horne. I’ll give them a hand and then we’ll soon be on our way again.’

‘Yes, of course, George,’ Marianne said. She followed the groom along the narrow country road towards the damaged coach, because she had seen two ladies standing at the edge of the road. They looked upset, as they might well do, the younger almost in tears. ‘I am so sorry for your misfortune,’ Marianne said. ‘It could be some time before your wheel is repaired—may we take you up with us as far as the next inn?’

The older lady looked at her for a moment and then nodded. ‘How kind of you,’ she said. ‘We should be glad of that, should we not, Henriette? My grooms may fetch help and follow us with the coach as soon as they are able.’

‘Oh…yes, Mama,’ the girl said, but she was not looking at her mother. Her eyes were on one of the gentlemen helping with the carriage. Marianne glanced in the direction of the girl’s gaze, seeing a man with fashionably cropped black hair. He had taken off his coat, his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He looked to be very strong and was directing the operations, but as he did not glance their way, Marianne could not see his face. The two ladies followed her to the coach and climbed inside.

‘I should introduce myself,’ the older of the two said. ‘I am Lady Forester and this is my daughter Henriette. We are on our way to stay with friends in Devon.’

‘I am Marianne Horne, and I am visiting my great-aunt. She has been unwell and needs some company.’

‘Ah, yes, illness always makes one so low,’ Lady Forester said.

‘Yes…’ Marianne glanced out of the window as she heard a shout. ‘They have moved your carriage, Lady Forester. We should be on our way at any moment now.’

As she spoke, the man who had been directing operations turned in their direction and looked towards their coach. Marianne could see his face now. He was attractive with a strong, determined face and eyes that looked a very dark blue. He was such a striking man that she was not surprised that Henriette had been more interested in watching him than listening to her mama. For a moment his eyes seemed to dwell on Marianne’s face and she was aware of a peculiar flutter in her stomach. He was so…very masculine, so very different to every other man she had met in her sheltered life. Her cheeks felt a little warm and she looked down. When she dared to look again, he had turned away and was about to mount his horse.

‘It was kind of that gentleman to help us, was it not, Mama?’ Henriette said.

‘Yes,’ her mama agreed. ‘But no more than any decent man would do, I dare say.’ She spoke dismissively, as if the gentleman were of no consequence to her mind, though her daughter’s face reflected rather different feelings towards their gallant rescuer.

As their carriage drew level with him, the man glanced towards it once more. For a moment Marianne gazed into eyes that were so blue and bright that she felt suddenly breathless. Something about him made her heart race for no reason at all that she could think of. He looked directly at her, his eyes bold and challenging. He did not drop his gaze, continuing to stare at her until they had passed him. It was unsettling to be looked at in that way, and she decided that he was not a gentleman, for surely a gentleman would never have looked at any lady in that way, particularly one he did not know. Meeting Henriette’s gaze across the carriage, she saw the slightly wistful expression and smiled, understanding that the girl had been smitten. She was very young, not much above Lucy’s age, and the incident must have seemed like something out of a fairy tale perhaps…a handsome prince riding to their rescue.

‘Tell me, Miss Forester,’ she said. ‘Do you read much?’

‘Oh yes,’ the girl replied, her face lighting up. ‘I love the romantic poets, do I not, Mama?’

Her mother agreed that she did and the conversation turned towards various poets they all admired. In this way the time passed pleasantly enough until Marianne was able to set them down at the next inn.

‘Well, that was an adventure,’ Sally said, once they were on their way again. ‘It is a pity they were not going to Cornwall, miss. The young lady would have been a nice friend for you.’

‘Yes, perhaps,’ Marianne said. ‘She was charming, her mother, too—but I dare say we shall not meet again.’

She eased against the cushions, feeling thankful that her uncle had provided her with such a comfortable mode of transport. They would probably be on the road for at least another two days. For a moment she sighed, wishing that she might have travelled on horseback like the man who had seemed in command when the damaged coach was moved from the road. He would get wherever he was going much faster. For a moment she envied his freedom, thinking how pleasant it would be to be riding on a day like this, and then she shook her head and smiled. How shocking of her to be thinking that she would like to be riding with a man she did not know and never would.

Drew yawned as he leaned his head against the high back of his chair. It was now well past midnight and nothing had happened. Earlier that evening, he had carried his chair to the window, giving himself a clear view of the cove below. He had been lucky to find a suitable property, but it belonged to the Edgeworthy estate and had once been home to a cousin of the elderly lady who owned it now. His agent had negotiated the lease for him, telling him that the lady’s man of business had been very willing to rent it to Drew for a few months. He had found the local man eager to be of service when they arrived the previous day.

He had given Drew the key, saying, ‘You will find it a solid house, though nothing has been done to it for years, Mr Beck. The last occupier fell to his death from the cliff path and Lady Edgeworthy thought it best to shut the place down. However, she will be happy to rent it to you for as long as you wish.’

‘That is most kind of her,’ Drew said. ‘As I told you, I am here for my health…’ He gave a little cough behind his hand. ‘Sea air and exercise will benefit me greatly, and I like to watch the gulls as they circle over the cliffs.’

‘Well, if you feel it will suit you. I’ve had the house cleaned, of course—shall I hire a woman to cook and clean for you every day?’

‘Thank you for having the house cleaned,’ Drew said, ‘but I have brought my manservant—he will care for me as he always does.’

Drew was smiling to himself as that servant entered the room, carrying a decanter of brandy and a glass on a small tray, which he set down on a table nearby.

‘Will you be wanting me again this evening, sir?’

‘No, thank you, Robbie. If I were you, I should get some sleep. You will have enough to do in the next few weeks—and I may need you one of these nights.’

‘Right you are, Captain.’

‘It’s just Mr Beck for the moment,’ Drew reminded him gently. Robbie had been his batman in Spain, and had returned to the estate with him when he sold out, caring for his personal needs much as he had while they were both soldiers. He knew that some of his neighbours, and indeed the other servants at the Manor, found it an odd arrangement, for Robbie was no picture-book hero with his scarred face and black patch over one eye. ‘We want to appear as ordinary as possible. I am recovering from illness and you are my faithful manservant.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Robbie replied. ‘It might be better if you called me Harris—some might find Robbie a mite familiar. You can get away with it as Marlbeck, but not as Mr Beck, I believe.’

‘Yes, perhaps you are right,’ Drew acknowledged. ‘But when we are alone it does not matter, Robbie.’

‘Right you are, Captain.’

Drew grinned as his servant left the room. Robbie never missed a trick, and perhaps it was his intelligence and his dry humour that had forged the bond between them. Robbie had patched Drew’s wounded shoulder with the same dexterity as he repaired his uniform, his manner usually polite but direct, though it had sometimes bordered on insolence when he considered that his officer was stepping out of line. And there had been times during his wild days when the only man who could steady him with a word or a look had been his faithful batman. Drew had been damned lucky to find such a loyal friend to serve him!

He had chosen to bring Robbie as his confidant in this mad adventure, for it was as such he saw it, knowing that he could rely on the man to keep his mouth shut and do whatever he asked of him. The agent had provisioned the house before they came down, and for the past two days they had lived in splendid isolation, eating their way through the generous hamper his chef at Marlbeck had prepared. When that was finished, it would be plain rations, because Robbie’s cooking was not his best asset.

Drew hoped they would not receive many visitors up here, which was one of the reasons he had chosen the house, but he knew that he ought out of politeness to pay at least one social call. He must visit Lady Edgeworthy, if only to introduce himself.

He looked out of the window again. The moon was full and the sky clear of clouds. It was unlikely the smugglers would risk landing this night, because they would be too easily seen. He might as well follow his own advice, and go to bed.

For a moment the picture of a woman’s face came into his mind. She had taken up the stranded passengers from the damaged coach he had helped to manoeuvre from the road the previous day. Something about her face had made him stare, possibly too long and too intently, for as her carriage passed him he had seen a spark of anger in her eyes. He smiled at the memory, suspecting that she was as spirited as she was beautiful, though undoubtedly a lady. And not at all the meek woman he had envisaged as making his wife one day in the hope of an heir. She was far too good for a man such as he, for he knew that he would break the heart of an innocent girl. Far better to find a widow who would tolerate his restless nature for the sake of a comfortable life.

Besides, it was unlikely that he would ever see the beauty again.

‘Marianne, my dear,’ Great-aunt Bertha said and kissed the girl’s soft cheek as she entered the parlour that afternoon. ‘I am so pleased that you could come. I was afraid that the journey would be too tiresome for you, but I see that your Uncle Wainwright was good enough to send you in his carriage, and that was kind of him.’

‘Yes, very kind,’ Marianne said. ‘We were more than three days on the road and it was tiring, though we had no accidents ourselves. Also, it meant that I was able to get a refund on the ticket you purchased for me, Aunt. I have the money in my purse and shall give it to you later.’

‘I would not dream of accepting it,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. She was a small, thin lady with wiry grey hair hidden beneath a lace cap and bright eyes. ‘Keep the money, Marianne. I intend to make you an allowance and that may be a part of it. You must have some money in your pocket, my dear.’

‘Even after I gave Sally a guinea before she left for her kindness to me on the journey here, I have ten pounds of my own and the fifty shillings I was refunded. I assure you that I have never been half as rich in my life.’

‘Well, I am pleased to hear it,’ Lady Edgeworthy said, her soft mouth curving in a smile. ‘However, you will need things for yourself, my dear. I am hoping that you will stay with me for a long visit. You are young and naturally you will marry one day. It is my intention to set up a trust fund for you, which will become your dowry when you are wed. You are my goddaughter and I have always intended to do something for you, and now it is done we may forget it.’

‘You are too generous,’ Marianne said and blushed. ‘I am sure I did not expect it.’

‘We shall say no more of the business,’ Lady Edgeworthy told her. ‘I just wanted you to know that you will not be penniless, Marianne. I may do something for your mama, too, but that is for the future.’ She smiled at her great-niece. ‘Do you think you can be happy here with me?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Marianne replied without hesitation. ‘I never realised it was so beautiful here, Aunt Bertha. I shall enjoy walking on the cliffs, and perhaps on the beaches, too.’

‘Most of them are quite safe,’ her great-aunt told her. ‘But the cove can quickly become a trap if the tide turns. The water sweeps in there very swiftly and it is difficult to climb the steep path, unless you know it well.’

‘I shall remember,’ Marianne said and thanked her. ‘But I have not asked how you are. Your letter said that you have been ill?’

‘Oh, I had a chill and it left me feeling low,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. ‘You must not think me an invalid. I still entertain now and then, and occasionally I visit friends, though most of them are kind enough to call on me these days.’

‘You gave up the London house, I think?’

‘I have lent it to a distant cousin of my late husband’s,’ Lady Edgeworthy said with a slight frown. ‘You know that I have no children of my own, Marianne. My son died in infancy and I was not blessed with a daughter. Had I had grandchildren, I should have kept it free for them, but as it is…I have no use for it. I do not care to racket about town myself, and Joshua asked if he might rent it from me. I told him that he may use it for as long as he wishes, though he says that in time he intends to settle down in the country.’

‘I do not believe I have met your husband’s cousin?’

‘Joshua Hambleton,’ Lady Edgeworthy said and looked thoughtful. ‘In truth I do not know him well, for he had never visited me until a little under a year ago. He is a very quiet, unassuming man, Marianne. He comes down regularly now, and he stays with me then, but his visits are normally no longer than a few days. I dare say you may meet him while you are residing with me.’

‘I shall look forward to it,’ Marianne said and looked round as the door opened and a lady came in. She was neither young nor old, but in her middle years; tall and slender, she had light brown hair and eyes. She was dressed plainly, but Marianne thought that she might have looked more attractive if she had dressed her hair in a softer style. She stood up and went forward to greet her great-aunt’s companion. ‘How are you, Miss Trevor?’

‘I am very well, Miss Horne. It will be nice for Lady Edgeworthy having you to stay. I think sometimes we are too quiet here and she feels the lack of company.’

‘You do yourself no justice, Jane,’ Lady Edgeworthy told her with a slight frown. ‘I am content with your company most of the time—but I have been wanting to see my great-niece for ages. I believe you were no more than fifteen when I last visited your home, Marianne?’

‘The same age as Lucy is now,’ Marianne told her. ‘She is so pretty, Aunt. Jo made her a redingote of blue velvet just before I left home, and it suited her so well. We trimmed her best bonnet with matching ribbons and a bunch of blue forget-me-nots.’

‘How charming,’ Jane Trevor said, taking her seat. ‘It must be nice to have sisters to share one’s pleasures with, Miss Horne. I had a brother, but I have not seen him since he ran away to sea as a boy.’

‘Mama and Papa longed for a boy, but instead they had three girls to plague them,’ Marianne said and laughed, because it always made her happy to think of her family. ‘Jo wishes she were a boy, but I’m afraid that she must be bound by the rules of society as we all are. If she had been the son Papa wanted, I think she might have been a lawyer or a surgeon for she is very clever.’

‘Ah, yes, that reminds me,’ Lady Edgeworthy said and looked at her companion. ‘I must ask Doctor Thompson for some more of that peppermint cordial he so kindly made up for me. It certainly helps my digestion.’

‘I shall make a note of it and ask him when he calls on Friday.’

‘I thought you were better now?’ Marianne asked.

‘Oh, Doctor Thompson comes to tea each Friday,’ Lady Edgeworthy told her placidly. She glanced at her companion. ‘We have known each other many years, and he is a pleasant gentleman—is he not, Jane?’

‘Oh…yes, I suppose so,’ Miss Trevor said and blushed. ‘He was very good to you when you were ill this spring, and I think his remedies have helped you considerably.’

‘Yes, well, I dare say they have,’ Lady Edgeworthy said and sighed. ‘I do not feel quite as I ought…’ She shook her head and looked at Marianne. ‘But I am sure I shall improve now that you have come to stay, my dear.’

‘I do hope so,’ Marianne said, though privately she thought that perhaps loneliness rather than illness had caused her great-aunt’s low spirits. She had retired to this isolated estate in Cornwall, cutting herself off from many of her friends and acquaintances, which was a little sad. In London, she might still have gone into company had she wished.

‘Take Marianne upstairs, Jane,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. ‘We should all change for dinner soon, though it will be just the three of us this evening—but that is no excuse for lowering standards, is it?’

‘No, indeed,’ Marianne agreed. She stood up and accompanied the companion from the room, glancing at her curiously once they had left the pretty parlour where her great-aunt still sat. ‘Was Lady Edgeworthy very ill?’

‘It was a nasty chill,’ Jane Trevor said and looked thoughtful. ‘I think she is much better in herself, but she has not recovered her spirits. I do not know why. She thinks a lot of her life as it was years ago and it makes her unhappy.’

‘Does she not go out in company?’

‘Very seldom,’ Jane replied. ‘I do not think she has left the house, other than to walk in the gardens, since last Christmas. Her friends and neighbours call to see her now and then, and she did have a dinner party last time Mr Hambleton was staying, but that was two months ago.’

‘It is hardly surprising if she is in low spirits,’ Marianne said. ‘We must see what we can do to cheer her, Miss Trevor.’

‘Please call me Jane…if you wish…’ Jane’s face went pink.

‘Yes, of course. There is no reason why we should be formal with each other,’ Marianne said. ‘I should be happy to do so if you will call me by my name?’

‘Thank you,’ Jane said and looked pleased. ‘It will be nice to have young company in the house.’

Marianne nodded, for she wished to be on good terms with her great-aunt’s companion. ‘You must tell me the best place for walking here, Jane. Aunt Bertha warned me that the cove can sometimes be dangerous.’

‘Oh, yes, I should stay well clear of that if I were you,’ Jane told her, a flash of alarm in her eyes. ‘It is very dangerous—and there are plenty of beaches just round the corner from there where you may walk safely. If you would care for it, I shall show you how to reach the safe beach in the morning—but there are pretty walks on the estate. We have some lovely rhododendrons, though of course they are over for this year—but you may find it more pleasant to walk on the cliffs, for the views are spectacular on a clear day.’

‘Yes, I dare say I may, for sand always gets into one’s shoes, does it not?’

They had reached Marianne’s room and parted as she went inside. It was a large bedchamber, furnished in shades of green and blue with a hint of white here and there. The silk bedspread was made of green quilted silk and very handsome, as were the drapes at the windows, the sofa and stool covered in a deeper shade of blue. Matching chests stood at either side of the bed, and a dressing table with an oval mirror standing on top were placed in front of the window to the right, while a small writing table occupied the similar space before the window to the left. Because of the two windows, it was light and airy.

Marianne’s few possessions had been unpacked, her combs, brushes and scent bottles placed on the dressing table. However, there were silver trinkets littering the tops of occasional tables and some handsome Chinese vases filled with dried flowers helped give the room an air of richness and comfort. Her dresses had been unpacked and were carefully laid on the shelves of the armoire.

Marianne chose one of her older gowns, thinking she would save her new ones for when they had company. She had begun to change when a knock at the door heralded one of Lady Edgeworthy’s maids, who inquired if she could help her dress.

‘Thank you, but this dress buttons at the front,’ Marianne told her. ‘I may need help another evening if we are entertaining, for my best gown is fastened at the back.’

‘Would you like me to dress your hair, miss?’

‘Thank you, Ruby,’ Marianne said. ‘I should like to put it up on top, if you please.’

She took her seat at the dressing table, allowing the maid to dress her hair in a smooth double knot at the back of her head, smiling and thanking her when she was finished.

After the girl had left, Marianne glanced at the little silver watch that she wore from a pin on her gown. Papa had given it to her for her seventeenth birthday and she treasured it. It was now ten minutes to six and she went to gaze out of the window before going downstairs. Her view was mostly of the gardens, but in the distance she could see the cliffs—and a house outlined against the sky. It was completely alone, as if it had been built for the use of someone who needed to be near the sea—perhaps the captain of a ship? She imagined the sea captain’s wife standing at her window, looking for the sails of her husband’s ship, and then laughed at herself. More likely it was the coastguard’s house. She knew that on occasion smuggling went on along this Cornish coast, and the house would be ideal for a Revenue officer, though of course her aunt would not permit smuggling in her cove.

She had far too much imagination for her own good! Which was undoubtedly why she had found the gentleman with the intensely blue eyes creeping into her thoughts at the oddest of times.

Hearing a gong sounding within the house, Marianne went downstairs. She found that Aunt Bertha and Jane had already gathered in the drawing room, and dinner was about to be served in the small dining parlour.

Rising early the next morning, Marianne went out to explore the countryside surrounding her great-aunt’s estate. It was warm and still that day, the sea calm, almost flat as Marianne walked along the edge of the cliffs. She stood for a few minutes, looking out towards the sea, watching as some gulls landed on a protrusion of rock a little way from the shore. In rough weather the rocks would be surrounded by foaming water and probably invisible from a ship. It was not surprising that so many ships foundered in these waters.

Something caught her eye in the cove below. A man had appeared from nowhere and was walking towards a small boat that had come inshore. She was too far away to be able to distinguish the man’s features as he waded out to it, but there was something about his appearance that she found odd. He was clearly a seaman, and that in itself was not surprising, but it was the cap he was wearing on his head…the style of it was unusual. It seemed to be made of some material that fitted snugly to his head, hanging down in a sort of tail at the back—and it was red…

It was the style of cap often worn by the French revolutionaries! Marianne recalled the sketches she had seen in one of her father’s newspapers. He had showed it to her because there was a long article about the rights of man and the French revolution.

The man had got into the boat and was being rowed away from the shore. Marianne stood watching as it pulled away. Now that she looked, she could see that a sailing ship was moored out in the bay, clearly waiting to pick up the man she had just seen. Where had he come from—and who was he?

Marianne frowned as she turned away. She did not think the man was a Cornish fisherman, nor that his ship was a small fishing vessel. She thought that both the man and his ship looked French, though she had only her instinct to guide her. She had seldom been to the seaside and had seen very few ocean-going ships, but she had seen pictures in her father’s books and journals.

What was a French ship doing in the bay at this hour? It was early in the morning, but if it were an enemy ship it ran the risk of being discovered by the Revenue men. It was almost sure to be a smuggling vessel if it were French, she thought, wondering why it had not sailed under cover of darkness. Of course, it might be perfectly innocent…

Glancing to her right, she saw that she was not alone in watching the ship. Another man was standing near the house she had seen from her bedroom window, and he was looking out to sea through his spyglass. At that moment he turned his head to look at her. From something in his manner, she felt that he was annoyed to see her there, but he made no move to approach her or to speak to her. And, as she watched, he shut the glass and moved away, clearly intending to climb down the rocky face of the cliffs to the cove below. Recalling her great-aunt’s warnings, she called out to him.

‘Be careful, sir. The cliff is unstable and the cove can be treacherous.’

He glanced at her and shook his head, frowning as he saw her, but he did not speak, making a gesture that she took to mean he did not wish her to speak or follow him. Marianne felt a spurt of annoyance. She had merely been trying to help him.

Going to the spot where the steep path was just about passable, she watched as the man descended safely to the beach below. His face was hidden from her, her view only of the top of his head as he climbed down the dangerous cliff face. At the moment only a thin line of sand was visible, and she wondered if that was the reason that the ship had risked being seen in daylight. Perhaps it was only possible to take someone off when the tide was in?

Suddenly, the man with the spyglass disappeared. He was there and a second later he had gone…completely disappeared from her view. For a moment she was puzzled, and then she realised that there must be a cave somewhere in the cove. The French seaman had come from it, and the man with the spyglass had disappeared into it!

Turning away, back to the house, Marianne was thoughtful. Something was going on in her aunt’s cove, but what ought she to do about it? If smugglers were landing contraband there, she ought to report it to the Revenue—but was her great-aunt aware of what was happening?

She knew that many people who lived in the area did know about the smugglers, and some of them turned a blind eye in return for a barrel of brandy left in their barns. She did not imagine that Aunt Bertha would be one of them, for her husband had been a Justice of the Peace, but she could not be sure.

She would ask about the occupant of the house on the cliffs, because if he were a Revenue officer he would not want interference from her—and for the moment she would say nothing of what she had seen to anyone but her great-aunt. But one day, when the tide was out and it was safe, she might go down to the cove and see if she could discover the cave for herself.

It was only as she reached her aunt’s home that it occurred to her that the man she had seen on the cliffs that morning might just have been the same man that had helped to push Lady Forester’s coach from the road. How strange that would be, she thought—but of course she had not seen him clearly and she could have been mistaken. She smiled as she wondered if her imagination were playing tricks on her. For some reason the small incident had lingered in her mind, though she had no idea why it should.

‘Did you enjoy your walk this morning?’ Lady Edgeworthy asked when they were alone later that day. ‘I used to walk quite often when I was younger, but I do not care for it since my cousin died[ ]Cedric fell from the cliffs, you know. He was such a lovely young man, and he knew them so well…’ She sighed. ‘He lived in Cliff House, but I shut the house afterwards. It was empty for over a year, but I have recently let it to a gentleman. Mr Beck has been ill and the sea air may help him. He called on me yesterday, as it happens. Had you arrived an hour sooner you might have met him.’

‘How strange. I was about to ask who lived there,’ Marianne said. ‘I saw someone this morning. He was using a spyglass and looking out to sea.’

‘He will have been watching the gulls then,’ Lady Edgeworthy said with a smile. ‘He told me that he is a keen bird-watcher, and he is enjoying the peace and quiet here. I asked him to dine with us, but he asked if he might leave it for another time, as he is still not himself and he wishes to be alone. I think he must have been very ill indeed.’

‘Poor man,’ Marianne said, but wondered if the man she had seen had been her great-aunt’s tenant, for he had seemed to climb the cliff very confidently and did not appear to be ill. Indeed, when he had directed the disposal of Lady Forester’s coach he had looked very strong—if it had been the same man. She might have been mistaken, of course. ‘Aunt Bertha…’

‘I must tell you something,’ her great-aunt said suddenly. ‘It must remain our secret, Marianne, for I do not wish to upset Jane—but I think someone is trying to kill me…’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Marianne was so startled that her own questions were forgotten in an instant. ‘Did you say that someone was trying to kill you?’

‘Yes, I think at least one attempt has been made on my life and perhaps more are planned.’ Aunt Bertha looked upset, as well she might. ‘I know this must come as a shock, my dear, and I hate to burden you with it, but I have been in fear for some weeks now.’

‘What do you mean? What has happened to make you think it?’

‘It was when I was ill,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. ‘I had taken some of the sleeping draught that my doctor had left for me, but for some reason it had not worked as it ought. I was only half-awake, but I heard someone creeping about in my room. It was the chink of glass that woke me and I cried out. Whoever it was fled and I sat up, lighting my candle.’

‘That is very strange,’ Marianne said. ‘But what makes you think that that person was trying to harm you?’

‘Because the stopper had been taken from the laudanum,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. ‘It had been a full bottle that evening, but someone had poured half of it into the flask containing my peppermint cordial. If I had not been woken, I should not have known anything was amiss. Had I taken my medicine as usual, I might have died—as you may know, laudanum can kill if used to excess.’

Marianne looked at her in silence. Lady Edgeworthy was not given to flights of fancy as far as she knew, and she realised that this must have been very distressing for her. It would be for anyone, but her great-aunt was vulnerable having few relations to care for her, and none living nearby.

‘Do you know who entered your room that night? Was it a man or a woman?’

‘It was too dark to see, for I was still drowsy and cried out before I opened my eyes. I saw only a dark shadow. I think it may have been a man, for the shape was tall and slender…but I cannot be certain.’

‘Has anything more happened since then?’

‘I have taken to locking my door at night,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. ‘And I have placed my medicines in a locked cabinet…but there was the other thing…’ She hesitated, then, ‘Someone tried to break into the house two weeks ago. One of the servants was downstairs, because she had the toothache, and she raised the alarm. She said that she looked out of the window after she screamed and saw a man dressed in dark clothes running away.’

‘And you think it may have been the same person[ ]breaking in to make another attempt on your life?’ Marianne was startled and anxious; the matter was very serious if it were true, and her aunt would not lie.

‘I know it sounds foolish, and indeed I have told myself that I imagined the whole thing,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. ‘I have wished that it might be a dream, but in my heart I know that it happened.’

‘Who was in the house that night?’

‘Only the servants, Miss Rudge, myself—and Jane, of course.’ Miss Rudge was Lady Edgeworthy’s personal maid, and of a similar age to her mistress.

‘You do not think it was either Jane or Miss Rudge?’

‘No, of course not—and I do not think any of my servants would wish to harm me either.’ She shook her head. ‘I must have imagined it, must I not? Do you think that my illness disturbed the balance of my mind?’ She looked upset and confused, making Marianne instantly concerned.

‘No, Aunt, I do not,’ Marianne said. ‘If someone tried to get into the house…it must have been an intruder that night, Aunt Bertha. And yet I cannot imagine who would want to harm you.’

‘I am a wealthy woman,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. ‘I have some valuable jewellery actually in the house and money invested, besides this estate and the London house. Yet I cannot think…’ She shook her head. ‘I changed my will after Cedric died, leaving a proportion of it to your mama and the rest to…’ She sighed again. ‘I cannot believe that Joshua would wish to kill me. He has the London house for nothing and, besides, he is always so charming and kind.’

‘But you said he was not here when someone entered your room and interfered with the laudanum, Aunt,’ Marianne said. ‘If he resides in London, it is hardly likely that he came down just to put something in your medicine…’

‘Yes, I know, it sounds foolish. I have considered the possibility for he is the main heir, but I cannot think it. Jane has a small bequest, of course, and Dr Thompson.’

Marianne looked at her thoughtfully. ‘What would happen to this house and the estate if you should die? Forgive me, but it seems I must ask.’

‘It might be sold, perhaps,’ Lady Edgeworthy replied. ‘Why do you ask that?’

Marianne took a deep breath, then, ‘I saw something this morning in the cove and I wondered if it might be used for smuggling[ ]I am fairly certain there was a French ship in the bay.’

‘I do not understand, my dear.’ Lady Edgeworthy frowned and then nodded. ‘Oh, yes, I dare say it might be inconvenient for them—if one of us should see them bringing the goods ashore…’

‘It supplies a reason why someone other than your husband’s cousin or your companion might want you out of the way, does it not?’

‘Yes, it does,’ Lady Edgeworthy said and looked relieved. ‘Do you know, that makes me feel much better. I am glad that I told you, though it was not fair of me to lay such a burden on young shoulders.’

‘It is one I am well able to bear,’ Marianne said. ‘Now that I am here, I shall keep my eyes and ears open, Aunt. If I discover that someone is planning to harm you, I shall consult you at once about what we ought to do to see that you are protected.’

‘You are a good girl,’ Lady Edgeworthy said, giving her an affectionate look. ‘I confess it has been playing on my mind these past weeks, for I should hate to think that Joshua or Jane[ ]No, I cannot think it of either of them.’

‘It could not have been one of the maids?’ Marianne looked thoughtful. ‘The girl who was suffering from toothache…she could not have come into the room hoping to borrow some laudanum?’

‘Bessie is not a thief,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. ‘I am perfectly certain that she would have asked had she needed it for herself. I should have told her that Jensen has his own supplies for the maids’ use…but I am sure that she knows that and would have gone to him in the first place had she wanted it.’

Marianne nodded, for in a house like this it was up to the butler and housekeeper to care for the needs of their assistants, and only a very reckless maidservant would risk taking medicine that belonged to her mistress. Yet it was an area that must be explored, if only for the purpose of elimination.

‘Perhaps she did not wish to disturb him. You know that the laudanum bottle was half-empty, but can you be sure it had been poured into your peppermint cordial?’

‘No, I cannot be certain. I assumed that it had and threw it away,’ Lady Edgeworthy said and frowned. ‘I suppose it might have been one of the servants…’ She looked unconvinced. ‘I did not think so at the time, but it could have been, of course, though I believe I almost prefer the idea that someone outside this house wants me out of the way.’

‘Yes, well, I think we must both be alert, but do not let it distress you too much, Aunt. If no further attempt has been made, it might just have been one of the maids looking to borrow your laudanum.’ Marianne sought to comfort her aunt, even though she thought it unlikely.

‘No, I shall not give way to melancholy,’ Lady Edgeworthy said stoutly. ‘I feel much more comfortable now that you are here, Marianne.’

‘Good. I am glad to be here with you,’ Marianne told her.

She was thoughtful as she went upstairs to change for the evening. She did not imagine that a thief had broken into her aunt’s house to steal laudanum. It would be for some other reason, possibly something more menacing, she imagined. It might have been one of the servants, as she had suggested. And it was possible that it might suit the smugglers if the house were empty. However, a new master might be more suspicious about their activities than an elderly lady living alone. To Marianne’s mind, Miss Rudge was above reproach and that meant there were possibly three candidates for her suspicion at the moment, though she had tried to convince her aunt otherwise.

It was difficult to think ill of Miss Trevor, who seemed a meek and loyal companion to Lady Edgeworthy, and she could think of no reason why her great-aunt’s doctor should wish to kill her—which meant that Mr Joshua Hambleton was the most likely of all. Unless the intruder had simply been a maid with the toothache, of course.

It was a mystery, but Marianne was determined that she would get to the bottom of it, even if only to set her great-aunt’s mind at rest.

The next two days passed pleasantly, for Marianne had settled into a routine. She went for walks in the mornings or performed small tasks, like picking and arranging flowers. Some of the soft fruit was ready for harvest, and one morning, she helped the maids in the task, picking redcurrants that would be made into jelly, and some raspberries for bottling and jam. In the afternoons Jane, Lady Edgeworthy and Marianne sat together, talking while they sewed or played cards, and sometimes Jane would read to them.

Marianne studied Jane Trevor for any sign that she was resentful of her employer, but as far as she could tell Jane genuinely liked and respected Lady Edgeworthy. It was only on the third day, when Dr Thompson came to tea, that she noticed a slight agitation in the companion’s manner.

Jane blushed as she passed him his tea and a plate of sweet biscuits, avoiding his eyes. When she sat down, she chose a chair near her employer and studiously avoided looking in his direction.

‘I trust that you have not been too busy of late, sir?’ Lady Edgeworthy asked the doctor. ‘There are not so many fevers and chills at this time of the year, I believe?’

‘No, perhaps not,’ he agreed. ‘But there was an unfortunate disaster at Wheal Mary the other day, and I was called to attend the injuries of five miners who were hurt. Two others were killed by the fall and beyond my help, I fear.’

‘I am sorry to hear that,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. ‘I believe that particular mine has more than its fair share of accidents?’

‘Yes, indeed. I have spoken about safety to Sir Henry Milburn,’ the doctor said. ‘I am afraid that he refuses to listen. Until there is a law to protect workers in the mines, I fear there will continue to be accidents.’

‘Unfortunately there is little other work for the men in these parts,’ Lady Edgeworthy replied. ‘They must either face the dangers of the sea or the mines—unless they are lucky enough to be put to a trade when they are young.’

‘That costs money,’ the doctor said and glanced at Marianne. ‘It takes every penny a man earns to feed and clothe his family and it is seldom that they can afford to apprentice a son for seven years, when he could be working in the mine and contributing to the family income. You will not know of the conditions in this part of the world, Miss Horne. The land is not as fertile as you have in the east of the country, I think?’

‘I did not realise that life was so hard here,’ Marianne said and looked at him with interest. ‘Mama always offered charity to any who called at the Vicarage, but most of the people we knew worked on the land and were at least well fed and housed.’

Doctor Thompson frowned. ‘I see several people each week that suffer from malnutrition or scurvy. I can help them, but what they truly need is a good diet and a decent house. The wages they earn provide them with neither.’

‘You must find that very frustrating, sir?’

‘Yes, I do,’ he replied and then recalled himself. ‘Forgive me, this is hardly the kind of conversation for a lady’s parlour.’

‘Please do not apologise. I found it interesting. Mama has always tried to help others when she can.’

‘You are very quiet today, Jane,’ Lady Edgeworthy remarked, glancing at her companion, who had taken no part in the discussion. ‘Are you feeling quite the thing, Jane? If you are unwell, you must ask Dr Thompson for a few moments of his time before he leaves. You may be private in the small parlour.’

They were using the larger front parlour that afternoon, as they always did when they had guests. The doctor was of course the first guest that Marianne had encountered, and she had worn her new blue gown, which she and Jo had made together, in his honour. It was stylish and suited her well, trimmed only with a wide sash at the waist, and a little lace at the neck. She looked extremely pretty, her hair swept back from the sides of her face and looped into soft swirls at the nape of her neck.

Jane shook her head, looking uncomfortable. ‘I am perfectly well, Lady Edgeworthy,’ she said. ‘I do not wish to waste Dr Thompson’s time.’

‘I assure you that I should not consider it a waste of time,’ he said. He glanced at his watch. ‘I think I must be going, for I have a patient to see later. Accompany me to the door, Miss Trevor. If anything ails you, I may be able to help.’

‘I shall certainly show you to the door,’ Jane said and got up at once. ‘But I am quite well, thank you.’

They left the room together. Lady Edgeworthy turned to Marianne and frowned. ‘Did it seem to you that Jane was a little quiet? She is not usually so when the doctor is here.’

‘Perhaps she does feel a little unwell. It has been very warm of late.’

‘Yes, perhaps,’ Lady Edgeworthy agreed. ‘Tell me, what did you think of him, Marianne?’

‘Doctor Thompson?’ Marianne was silent for a moment. ‘He is an amiable, attractive man and seems to think just as he ought.’

‘Yes, I have always believed him dedicated to his patients. He treats them all, whether they can pay him or not.’

‘I thought that must be the case,’ Marianne said. ‘I think he must either have private means or several wealthy patients.’

‘I believe he was a younger son. His private income is slight, but he does have several patients who can afford to pay him.’

‘Perhaps he does not care much for money?’

‘He is not married,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. ‘I asked him once why he had not taken a wife and he said that he could not afford it…’ She wrinkled her brow. ‘I have wondered if he has been blighted in love at some time…’

Marianne was about to reply when the companion walked into the room. Clearly Jane had not taken the doctor’s offer to examine her, for she had not been absent long enough. However, she was looking a little happier, and the colour had come back to her cheeks.

‘Are you feeling better?’ Marianne asked.

‘Oh…’ Jane blushed. ‘It was just a little headache and I am quite sure it will go very soon. Indeed, it has eased a little already.’

‘If you have a headache, you must go and lie down until dinner,’ Lady Edgeworthy told her. ‘No, I insist, Jane. If you are no better at dinner, I shall have Miss Rudge make up a tisane for you.’

Jane got to her feet and left the room at once.

‘She is such a foolish little thing,’ Lady Edgeworthy said. ‘Why would she not let Dr Thompson help her?’

‘I cannot say,’ Marianne said, but she was thoughtful. ‘I think I shall go into the village in the morning, Aunt Bertha. I have written a letter for Mama and I wish to take it to the receiving office so that it may go on the mail coach.’

‘One of the servants can take it for you, my dear.’

‘I should like to go myself, if you do not need me for a few hours?’

‘I did not ask you here to dance attendance on me every moment,’ her great-aunt said. ‘Of course you may go—but take one of the maids with you if you wish. I do not think you will come to harm, but there is a market on Saturdays, and you never know who may be there.’

‘Thank you,’ Marianne said and got up to kiss her cheek. ‘I think I shall go up to change and write a short note to Jo to go with Mama’s letter—and to Lucy, of course, for she must not be left out.’ She smiled as she thought of her sisters and wondered what they were doing at home. She knew that Lucy would be missing her, for they had never before been apart, but Jo would keep her busy and not let her fall into too many daydreams.

She was thoughtful as she left her great-aunt and walked up the stairs. Jane had been very quiet, and she had gone quite pale for a while. Had she been upset because the doctor had paid some attention to Marianne?

No, surely that was wrong? Why should such a little thing upset Jane? Unless…she had a secret passion for the good doctor?

It seemed ridiculous at first, for Jane must be a few years older than Dr Thompson, who was no more than thirty or so—and yet she had seen something in Jane’s eyes. She had been much happier when she returned from escorting him to the door…

Was it possible that they had an understanding? Jane might have thought she was about to lose him to a younger woman…which was quite foolish, of course. Marianne would not have encouraged him had he shown an interest, which he had not. She had merely been interested in what he had to say about the social conditions of the area. Jane could not have known that, of course, and she might have thought Marianne was concerned to attract his attention.

If Jane cared for the doctor, why had she not mentioned her feelings to her employer? Some employers did not encourage their staff to have followers, of course. Perhaps Jane thought she might be turned off if she allowed her partiality to show? And Lady Edgeworthy had just told Marianne that the doctor could not afford to marry…

Supposing that the legacies they had been left would enable them to marry? Marianne paused on the stairs as the awful thought struck her. Would they plot together to murder Lady Edgeworthy, knowing that the money she had left to them as individuals would be quite substantial when put together?

The possibility put a different complexion on the matter and was chilling. Marianne shivered, feeling suddenly cold all over. She had not believed that Jane was capable of such a thing…but a woman might do anything for the love of a man.

Without the means to marry, Jane was condemned to a life as companion to her employer. Lady Edgeworthy was kind to her, but others might not be in the future, and the legacy might not be enough to enable her to live comfortably without seeking further employment should Lady Edgeworthy die. Besides, if she was in love[ ]Marianne did not wish to think ill of either Jane or the doctor, but it now seemed that she must consider them as possible culprits, and as yet she had not met Mr Joshua Hambleton.

Of course there was also the mysterious tenant at the house on the cliffs. She had seen him from a distance several times as she was walking about the estate, although as yet they had not come face to face. Quite often she would turn and see him staring in her direction, and she had wondered if he was following her—but why should he be? Besides, he had only recently taken up residence and had not been here when her great-aunt’s medicine had been tampered with….