Читать книгу Pride in Regency Society - Sarah Mallory - Страница 15

Evelina stared at her housekeeper. She began to tremble and clasped her hands together, digging the nails into her palms to fight down her panic.

‘When was this?’

‘About a week since.’

‘Then you saw him just before he, before—’

‘Aye, miss.’ Aggie nodded. ‘He—he came down to talk to Silas, said that now he was wed to you it would be quite proper for him to stay at Monkhurst. Showed Silas the marriage papers, he did. Everything looked to be in order so Silas let him in. Didn’t think there’d be any harm in it…’

Eve jumped to her feet. ‘No harm! Richard Granby knew of this, and he did not tell me! Where is Granby?’

‘He’s taken the old gig to the village, ma’am. Said he would fetch me some provisions, to tide us over until Silas can take me to Appledore in the cart.’

‘Then he will be gone for hours.’ Eve sank down again, her brow furrowed with thought. ‘Nick, stayed here?’ she mused. ‘But why?’

‘That I can’t say, mistress, but Silas was never one to refuse the captain—’

‘Wait.’ Evelina put her hand to her head, trying to make sense of what she was hearing. ‘Did—did my husband know Silas?’

‘He did, ma’am. They sailed together, years ago. Silas was always talking about Captain Wyldfire and he was that pleased when the captain came looking for him, but he wouldn’t let him into the house, ma’am, not until it was all legal, like.’

‘Do you mean that…that C-Captain Wylder came here before we were married?’

‘Oh, yes, ma’am.’ It seemed that now Mrs Brattee had made her confession she was happy to talk. ‘Back in the spring he fetched up here. Silas was so surprised—’

‘But what did he want?’ The closed look returned and Eve said impatiently, ‘You have told me this much, Aggie I do not think you can stop now.’

‘He…he was asking about the free trading.’

‘Is Silas—I mean—does he know about such things?’

The housekeeper gave her a pitying look. ‘There’s not a family hereabouts that doesn’t, miss.’

‘But I don’t understand. Why should Nick come hereT?’

‘That I couldn’t say, mistress. He stayed in the village for a week or more, went out with Silas and the boys—do you remember my sons, ma’am, Sam and Nathanial? You wouldn’t recognise ’em, they’re strapping men now. Both married; my Nathanial has twins and Sam has a babe on the way.’

Eve smiled reminiscently. ‘We used to play together on the Marsh, did we not? I know you did not always approve of my running wild with the boys, but Mama did not mind, and we were very young. It all changed when I was sent away to school.’

‘You had to learn to be a lady, Miss Eve.’

‘I suppose I did.’ Eve sighed. ‘But we digress. You were telling me about Captain Wylder’s visit.’

‘Ah, yes. As I was saying, Silas keeps a galley on the Marsh, you see, and Captain Nick went out with them—’

‘Wait, wait, wait!’ Eve interrupted her again. ‘Are you saying Captain Wylder helped them to smuggle goods into the country?’

‘Silas prefers to call it free trading,’ said Mrs Brattee, affronted. ‘They brings in a few barrels of brandy, sometimes a bit of Brussels lace—it’s not as though anyone hereabouts could afford to buy it, if they had to pay the duty, so it ain’t doing any harm.’

Evelina realised it would be useless to argue and turned her mind to her main anxiety. ‘But why Nick? What interest did he have in such things?’

‘There’s many a seafaring man turns to free trading to repair his fortunes, mistress.’

Eve shook her head. ‘Nick Wylder was not in need of money. I know that because Grandpapa discussed the marriage settlements with me. Not only did my husband have property, there is also a great deal of prize money invested in the Funds. So why should he come to Monkhurst?’

‘The captain was very interested in the house, but Silas was adamant. Apart from the odd visit from your grandpapa, Monkhurst has been shut up since your parents died.’ Aggie gave a noisy sigh. ‘Very attached to your mama, was Silas. Apple of his eye, she was, so he wasn’t about to let anyone into her house. Even when your cousin, Mr Bernard Shawcross, came down here a couple o’ years ago. Silas turned him away, sayin’ he’d had his orders from your grandpapa to shut the house up and shut it would remain.’ She snorted. ‘And your cousin didn’t take it anything like as well as Cap’n Wyldfire. Raged at Silas, he did; said he was family and entitled to be let in, but Silas said if that was the case he should go and get permission from your grandfather.’

‘Yes, but what of Captain Wylder?’ Eve prompted her gently.

‘The cap’n went off. Back to London, we thought. Then, next thing we knows, he comes back to tell us he’s wed—and to our own Miss Shawcross!’

‘But why did he not tell me he had been to Monkhurst, or that he was coming back here?’

The housekeeper’s blank look was genuine, and Eve forbore to press her further. However, the question continued to plague Eve. She played with the gold band on her finger, turning it round and round as an answer lodged itself in her brain. Nick had not trusted her.

Only because he did not know me, she told herself fiercely. He would have learned to trust me, in time. If only…A little scream of frustration forced its way up through her. She banged her fist into her palm. ‘Ooooh, I hate that man!’ she hissed. ‘How could he do this to me? I hate him, I hate him!’

Tears welled up again but she fought them down. She would be strong. And she would get to the bottom of this mystery.

However, an interview with Silas proved even less rewarding, for the old man merely shook his head, saying he had no idea why Captain Nick had come looking for him.

‘But you took him out in your boat with you when he was here in the spring.’ She added quickly, ‘Come now, Silas, I know all about your…activities.’

‘The captain ain’t concerned with the piddlin’ little bits we bring in,’ he said. ‘He’s after bigger fish, that much I do know. But he was impressed with the galley that we uses to go in and out to the sea. Deal-made, she is, and fast in the water. Me brother Ephraim ’as another just such a one over at Dimchurch and I told the cap’n how in the old days we used her to row across to Boulogne. Can’t beat Kentish oarsman, mistress, although these days when there’s a drop we just meets the lugger off shore and brings in what we need through Jury’s Cut.’

‘I am sure you do, but it is still illegal, Silas, and I cannot have it.’ She regarded him steadily. ‘You must promise me to give up the trade, Silas. I will find work for you, and for Nat and Samuel, but you must not take part in any further smuggling.’

It was not to be expected that Silas would capitulate immediately, but Eve was adamant and eventually she wrested from him a grudging promise that he would cease his illegal activities. Satisfied on this point, Eve could once more give her attention to finding out why Nick had come to Monkhurst.

‘What did Captain Wylder want here, Silas? How long did he stay in the house?’

‘No more’n a couple o’ nights. We took a dinghy out on the Monkhurst Drain, Miss Eve, that leads down to Jury’s Cut and the sea, and I showed ’im the boathouse, but that ain’t been used for years.’ Silas twisted his cap in his hands and looked at Eve anxiously. ‘I didn’t think there was any harm in it, mistress, knowing the cap’n, and him now being family…’

‘And you trusted him, Silas?’ she said, a little wistfully.

‘With my life, mistress. The cap’n knew I’d follow him anywhere,’ he ended proudly. ‘When we was fighting the rebels in the American War he was never happier than when he was kicking up a dust. Unpredictable, see, like his nickname, Wyldfire. He was here one minute, then the next, he’s up and gone to Hastings.’ Silas frowned, shaking his head. ‘Not but what that was a mistake, God rest his soul.’

There was nothing more to be learned from the old man. Evelina dismissed him, but the problem nagged at her throughout the morning while she worked her way through the house, trying to decide what was required to make it a comfortable home. The early morning sun had given way to heavy storm-clouds and a blustery wind whistled through the passages, signalling a change from the dry, sunny weather of the past few weeks.

It was noon before Eve heard the sounds of the gig returning. A glance out of the window showed her that it was raining heavily and she felt a certain grim satisfaction when she saw that Granby had omitted to take a greatcoat with him, and was soaked through. She hurried to the kitchens and found the valet drying himself off before the kitchen fire. Paying no heed to Mrs Brattee, who was busy unpacking the baskets Granby had brought in for her, Eve went straight into the attack.

‘Why did you not tell me my husband stayed here?’

Granby swung round and she saw the flash of surprise before he schooled his countenance to its usual inscrutable mask. ‘I thought it might distress you, ma’am.’

‘I am more distressed to think you lied to me. What else have you omitted to tell me?’ she demanded. ‘What was Captain Wylder doing here?’

‘I believe he wished to renew his acquaintance with Mr Brattee and his family,’ said Granby, smoothly.

‘But he had already done that, he had visited Silas before he made Grandpapa’s acquaintance at Tunbridge Wells.’

The valet bowed. ‘As you say, madam.’

Eve watched him closely. ‘Captain Wylder told me he had business in Sussex.’

The valet inclined his head. ‘That is true ma’am. The master stayed here only a few nights before going on to Hastings.’

‘And this…business: did it involve smuggling?’

Granby looked shocked. ‘Captain Wylder’s acquaintances in Hastings are most respectable people, ma’ am.’

‘I do hope so, Mr Granby.’

He smiled a little and spread his hands. ‘You have my word upon it, Mrs Wylder.’

‘I shall have more than that.’

‘Ma’am?’

Eve put her hands on her hips and looked at him. ‘Go and change into dry clothes, Mr Granby. And order my carriage. We are going to Hastings.’

Granby’s smile vanished. ‘Hastings! Now?’

‘Yes, now. As soon as we are packed.’

‘But, madam, there is not the least need—’

‘There is every need,’ she flung at him. ‘I am anxious to know that I am not the widow of a common villain!’

‘Mrs Wylder, I beg of you, at least postpone your journey until this storm has eased.’

Richard Granby stood beside Eve in the doorway, looking out with dismay at the rain that lashed the house while the coachman packed the trunks securely, water running from the brim of his hat and his oiled coat.

‘I am determined to reach Hastings today,’ she retorted. ‘You may ride in the carriage with Martha and me, if you do not wish to get another soaking.’

The valet declined the offer, and clambered miserably up beside Dan Coachman.

‘He is afraid I shall interrogate him further,’ remarked Eve cheerfully as she climbed into the carriage.

Her maid sniffed as she settled herself beside her mistress. ‘Mr Granby was only trying to save you unnecessary worry, Miss Eve.’

‘Is that what he has told you, Martha?’

‘No, madam, but I know he’s a good man.’

‘Is he?’ Eve looked closely at her maid. ‘You seem to be uncommon friendly with Richard Granby.’

Martha flushed, but she said stiffly, ‘Given his position and mine, it is only natural that we should talk.’

Eve forbore to tease her. ‘Of course it is,’ she said, turning her mind back to her own worries. ‘And if Mr Granby has passed on anything concerning my husband’s death, I would like you to tell me, Martha. I shall not be easy until I know what sort of business it was that took my husband away from Makerham in such haste. I hope we may find some answers at Hastings.’ She leaned back against the thickly padded seat. ‘And I confess I want to see where Nick spent his last days,’ she murmured to herself.

The wind howled around them, rocking the carriage while the heavy rain drummed on the roof and pattered against the windows. The pace was necessarily slow. The storm grew worse as they neared the coast and it was a relief to drive through Rye, for although the cobbles shook the coach until Eve’s teeth rattled in her head, at least the houses gave them some shelter from the buffeting winds. The carriage slowed to a stop and Eve leaned forwards to peer out of the window. A horseman had stopped beside them and was shouting something at the coachman.

Eve let down the window. ‘What is it, is there a problem?’

The rider turned to look at her, touching his hand to his sodden hat.

‘Aye, ma’am. The Winchelsea road is closed. They wanted to take advantage of the dry weather to repair the road, but the dam—dashed fools didn’t start it until yesterday. Now the grass verge is too wet to take the weight of a carriage and there’s only room for a horse to squeeze by.’

‘Is there another route?’ asked Eve.

The rider nodded. ‘Aye, you can go via Broad Oak Cross and then south through Battle.’

Granby leaned down from the box, shaking his head at her. ‘That’s a long journey, Mrs Wylder. Dan says he must proceed slowly if we are not to be overturned by the high winds on the open road.’

‘Then that is what we shall do,’ said Eve decisively. ‘Tell him to drive on!’

‘Very well, madam.’

Martha sniffed. ‘The poor man will very likely catch his death sitting up on the box in this weather.’

‘Very likely,’ replied Eve, unmoved.

‘We should turn back,’ said her forthright handmaiden. ‘No good can come of this, Miss Eve, you mark my words. What do you want to go traipsing all the way to Hasting for? What if you hears things you didn’t want to know about the master?’

Eve did not answer. Martha had voiced the fear that had been nagging at her, that Nick was involved in some villainous activity, but it was no good. She had to know the truth, however bad. Besides, illogical as it was, she wanted to visit the place where he had died.

To say goodbye.

Tears filled her eyes again and she blinked them away, angry at herself. Why should she feel such sorrow for a man she had known for less than a month? Yet the tug of attraction had been so strong, she could not resist it. He still haunted her dreams. Nick had wound his way so effectively into her heart that now his loss threatened to break it.

‘You are a fool, Evelina,’ she told herself angrily. ‘You let yourself believe that Grandpapa had brought you a knight in shining armour!’

The sudden stopping of the carriage dragged her away from her depressing thoughts.

‘Oh, Heavens, what is it now?’ cried Martha.

The cab rocked as someone climbed down from the box and Eve pressed her nose to the window, trying to see out. It was impossible; inside, the glass misted with her breath and outside the raindrops distorted her view. She let down the window and immediately the driving rain slapped at her face. There was another carriage stopped in front of them, and Granby was talking in earnest conversation with the driver, one hand clamped over his hat to prevent the wind from whipping it away.

‘There is some sort of hold up,’ she said to her maid as she put up the window once more. ‘Granby is looking into it now.’

Moments later the valet yanked open the door. Even though he was standing on the most sheltered side of the carriage the wind swirled around and threatened to drag the coach door out of his hands.

‘The road is under water, ma’am. A culvert has collapsed. One wagon has already tried to drive through and has broken an axle. No one is hurt,’ he hastened to assure them, ‘but we must turn back.’

Reluctantly Eve agreed. She glanced past him at the rain, still sheeting down. The thought of spending another couple of hours returning to Monkhurst was not a pleasant one.

‘Very well, Granby. Tell Dan to drive back to the nearest village. We will put up for the night.’

But when they drove into Udimore, Eve took one look at the rundown hostelry and quickly changed her mind. She ordered Dan to drive back to Rye.

‘What I saw of the slatternly maids and greasy landlord convinced me we should not be comfortable there,’ she said to her maid as the carriage set off once more. ‘Granby tells me we passed several well-appointed inns at Rye. We shall do better there.’

‘I do hope so, madam,’ replied Martha in a failing voice. ‘I fear if I don’t get out o’ this jarring, jolting cab soon I shall have to ask you for your smelling salts!’

Eve laughed. ‘Then I would have to disappoint you, Martha, for I do not carry such a thing!

‘Well then, it’s a good job I put a bottle of Glass’s Magnesia in your dressing case! With your permission, Miss Eve, I shall take some as soon as I can lay my hands on it.’

‘You would be better advised to take a little walk and get some fresh air,’ replied Eve, ‘but as you wish.’

She looked out of the window. The rain had eased a little and looking up she saw the squat tower of Rye church, secure on its hill, a black outline against the lowering sky. The clatter of hooves on the cobbles told Eve that they had reached the town and she knew a few moments’ anxiety when they pulled up at the George, only to be told that every available room had been taken, but minutes later the carriage turned into the yard of the Mermaid, another busy coaching inn, and Granby was holding open the door for her to alight. Evelina had the impression of overhanging eves and a half-timbered building surrounding the yard as she hurried across to the entrance. She was immediately shown into a small private parlour filled with gleaming brassware and polished panelling.

‘This is very much more the thing!’ she exclaimed. ‘A warm, clean room and the most appetising smell from the kitchens. I vow I am quite famished. Granby must bespeak dinner for us as soon as maybe.’

Her maid groaned. ‘I feel as sick as a cat, miss.’

‘Poor Martha. Sit you down then and rest until the landlord brings us coffee. Or should I ask him for some tea?’

‘Just as you like, miss. I wants nothing more than to sit quiet for a bit.’

‘Then you shall do just that. Granby is organising our rooms for us and will see that our bags are taken upstairs. I never realised before how useful it is to have a man to do these things for one. Perhaps I shall keep him on, after all, as my major-domo.’ A glance at the pale figure sitting beside the fire showed her that Martha was not listening, so she busied herself instead with making them both comfortable. She helped her maid to remove her bonnet and cloak and put them with her own over a chair. A rosy-cheeked maid brought in her coffee, apologising for the delay.

‘We’ve been that busy, what with the storm and everything. Every table’s took.’ She looked around, smiled and bobbed a curtsy. ‘You’m lucky to have this parlour, madam. You’ll be comfy enough in here.’

As the maid went out, Martha opened one eye. ‘Will you not sit down, miss? You must be exhausted, all that travelling—’

‘Not a bit of it! I did not like being bounced all over the road, but I am more excited than tired. You know how little I have travelled. My last real journey was to go to Tunbridge with Grandpapa two years ago and the pace was so slow and decorous I think we would have moved quicker had we walked!’ She went over to the window and looked out. ‘If it would only stop raining, we could take a walk now and see the town.’

Her handmaiden groaned again and Eve turned back to her.

‘Poor Martha, here am I, chattering on when you are feeling so poorly. You do look very pale, you poor thing. Perhaps a little Magnesia would settle your stomach. I wonder where Granby can be. He will have taken the dressing case to my bedchamber. Well, perhaps the landlord can show me the way.’

She went to the door and looked out. The corridor was very busy and through the doorway opposite she could see that the taproom was packed with men enjoying a mug of ale and pipe of tobacco while they sheltered from the rain. To her right was a much more ordered scene, for the corridor opened on to the coffee room where travellers were seated at small tables and were served refreshments by a number of harassed-looking waiters. Of the landlord or the cheerful maid there was no sign. Undeterred, Eve stepped out of the room to go in search of her host. The ancient building was large and irregular, and for a moment Eve could not decide on the best way to go. She had seen a number of people using a door on the far side of the coffee room and surmised that it would lead to an inner hall where she might find an obliging chambermaid who would take her upstairs. Eve made her way quickly through the coffee room, trying to ignore the inquisitive stares of its patrons. She kept her eyes fixed upon the door, putting out her hand as she approached. It opened easily, swinging away from her and she spotted Granby in the corridor beyond, talking with a group of ragged-looking men. In her haste she did not see the slight step down and she found herself hurtling through the doorway, off balance. She cannoned off the man nearest the door.

‘Oh, I beg your pardon,’ she gasped as strong arms shot out to steady her. ‘I—’

Her words died away as she looked up and found herself staring up into the all-too-familiar face of Nick Wylder.