Endure My Heart (19 page)

“One coffin would take a deal less work and men than all them barrels,” Jem suggested with a cagey look.

“Williams would hardly be interested in a coffin,” I thought.

“He’d be interested enough if we tried to keep him away, wouldn’t he then?”

“It was not my intention to try to keep him away,” I pointed out.

“Aye, but the best way to get him there is to make him think it.”

It is lowering to have to confess Jemmie’s crooked mind had outpaced my own in this case. I inquired politely how this could be done, to humor Jemmie, though I had a fair idea of the answer.

It was a reworking of the old plague victim stunt he had in mind. In the bygone days when people were more gullible and more afraid of pox and plague, one had only to claim a victim was situated anywhere to ensure complete privacy at that spot. An announcement that a plagued corpse was to be buried at the beach would get rid of any unwanted onlookers, including revenuemen, who were no more anxious to fall sick and die than anyone else. Such an announcement might still keep Crites at a distance; I did not think it would deter Williams. Nor did I think he would fall for that old chestnut of a stunt. He would recognize it for a red herring, know we were trying to lure him to the spot and look elsewhere.

Some new element was needed to obfuscate the issue. We would let him learn, quite by accident—no public announcement—and at the very last possible moment, that a French ship was to land a victim at the beach. He would think he had discovered something we wished to conceal, and, hopefully, leap to the conclusion he had outwitted us. He would go expecting to see a hundred barrels landing behind the coffin, only to find that what was landing was exactly one coffin.

“We’ll require
two
French ships in that case, Jem, one for the brandy, another for the coffin.”

“The
Orléans
is at Ipswich now. It’ll be coming down tomorrow. I’ll arrange to have that special item put aboard en route. You can attend to Williams’ hearing it at the last minute?”

“Leave it to me.”

“We’re a good team, miss. This will keep Williams glued behind his tree, or I ain’t Jem Hessler.”

“There’s one more point. I don’t want you coming to me after the runs to report unless there is trouble. Only if it is urgent. He might follow you, and it is Miss Sage he is after.”

“But if there should be trouble, miss, that’s the very time I shouldn’t go to you. It could mean he’s on to me, and be dangerous for you.”

“That’s true. We must have some signal, some way you can let me know there is trouble. What could we use?”

“The church bell maybe, but that would alert the whole village.”

“That is as well as coming right to me, sitting on our doorstep as it is. Something else. How about Mark? No, he would be followed as easily as yourself.”

“How about Lady?” he asked. “She’s as clever as any of the gentlemen.”

“Could you train her to come to me, with a note stuck under her collar?”

“She knows you well enough that if I gave her a glove or whatnot belonging to you and told her to deliver it, she’d be at your door in a flash. Mind she’d have to bark a bit to let you know she’s there. She’s a right clever girl, but she hasn’t learned to knock on a door yet.”

We tried an experiment with Lady and my old tan kid glove that same evening. It worked like a charm. That clever Jem had fashioned a new collar for her, a wide leather one split at the back to hold a note safely.

I was nervous and tense after our little talk, worrying about my cargo and my ruse, and figuring the best way for Williams to “discover” about the plague victim. Everyone is so frightened of the plague that it is no easy thing to get permission to land a victim at all. If the victim is deceased, it is the understanding that the coffin will be burned to ashes instantly it is landed. For this a certificate is required from the officer of health. You might be forgiven for thinking the parish officer of health would be a medical man, but it is not the case.

When there are certificates required (which might be hastened, you understand, by a little under-the-table largesse) Sir Elwood Ganner, Bart., is your man. The philosophy which got him this job is that our health is too important to leave in the hands of doctors. It requires the deft and skillful fingers of a politician. I must add in Ganner’s defense, however, that he
did
make vaccination against the smallpox compulsory, with Jenner's wonderful vaccine. He had clinic set up in the church porch (where else?) with myself in charge of helping the doctor, and Sir Elwood Ganner in charge of talking to the press. I am not sure, but I think that might have been the cause of his being knighted, and was said locally to be also the cause of his new black carriage, though I cannot swear he made any money on the purchase of vaccine and the hiring of people to administer it.

I knew from Jem that this certificate was to be requested  at five-thirty by the captain of the Orléans, or his deputy. It was my duty to drop in at the same hour, to interfere lest the certificate be denied. When I spotted the stranger, dressed in rough sailor’s garb, enter the Parish Office at the appointed hour, I nipped smartly down the street, taking care not to let my eyes stray to the left, where an outline at the doorway of Owens’ shop suggested the form of Mr. Williams. We were not speaking since the altercation in the shop. Nodding, each being careful to make the nod shorter than the other, but not uttering a word.

Ganner was just stuffing a folded bill into his pocket and some loose change into the parish coffer when I entered. The matter had already been arranged to the satisfaction of both parties. The sailor took his certificate and left, whistling.

“Plague victim to be buried,” he told me. “Must be burned first for safety’s sake, of course. No need to tell it around town. It will only cause talk and worry.” He patted his pocket happily, while the setting sun glinted from his shining scalp.

“I wouldn’t mind if a certain party heard it,” I said, giving him a measured look to indicate this was not whimsy, but business.

He looked at me with a leap of understanding in his eyes.

“That is an old humbug trick, Miss Sage. I doubt it will work. I was obliged to use it on Daggar once in the old days.”

“The stuff is not coming in on that ship. The person I would like to hear about it is Mr. Williams.”

“I thought as much,” he nodded. “Read about Wicklow being sent down, and thought it a bit odd Miss Anderson was allowing a draper to run tame at her home. You are awake on all suits, sly puss. Shall I stop by Owens’ shop and let it slip out in a casual fashion? I’ll caution him not to mention it to anyone, to make him think it a great secret. Yes, and I shall also ask about the wool Miss Anderson is always pestering me for. He might wonder at your being here, if he happened to see you enter. We would not want him to think you are involved in the other business in any way.”

“I would appreciate it, Sir Elwood,” I told him, and went home by the back way, for I was not sure I could keep from grinning if Williams nodded at me. I had no worry about Ganner. Miss Thyme was quite adept in his dealings.

That evening I was on a bed of nails wanting to know what was going forth. It was all I could do to keep from donning Andrew’s trousers and slipping down to Aiken’s place myself. The cargo was to come at one o’clock, a little later than usual. The hour was chosen to coincide with the burial, one being considered late enough that the streets and beach would be empty. As one slowly ticked toward two, I waited at the front door, looking for a dog that did not come. I lost several hours of sleep, and slept in the next morning to make up for it. I regretted not being able to talk to Jemmie, and thought if I went into the streets I might see him. A simple nod and his crooked grin would tell me all was right. Surely I would have heard had anything gone amiss.

I dressed up and went out immediately after lunch. I did not see Jemmie, but Rose Marie was doing her weekly shopping. At the butcher’s door we hove to to exchange greetings.

“How is Miss Simon?” I asked. She must have been sick to death of the question. Everyone asked the same thing, though no one except myself had ever seen her.

“Recovering nicely, dear. Had a nice quiet night and all,” she added with a meaningful smile. It had gone off well then. “Mind the higgler, when he brought our milk and eggs this morning, said things were less quiet at Aiken’s place. There was a plague victim buried, did you hear?” This last was asked in a noisy voice for Mrs. Marson’s benefit, as she was coming out of the butcher’s with a wet brown bundle in her arms. The tale of the plague victim was now out in the open.

I expressed suitable amazement, then Rose Marie went on in a lower voice, “Yes, dear, a great commotion there was. Now they’re saying there’s an exhumation order to dig up the coffin. Well, the ashes, you know, and make sure there’s a body buried at all. I cannot think who did it, got the order.”

I did not have to think. I knew it was Williams. So he must have told the constable his true identity. He was becoming more daring, more determined to catch me. And when he found the stones in that pile of ashes, he would know that while he stood watching the blaze, the stuff had been landed elsewhere. He would know, or strongly suspect, the Eyrie. I was well satisfied that he had not only been outwitted, but would
know
he had been made a game of.

“I’m just about to duck into Owens’,” Rose Marie added, with a questioning look to see if I had any orders.

“Good. Tell him Miss Simon is much better, and invite him cordially to take tea with you tomorrow.”

“He wants to search the house—the cellar!” she reminded me.

“Let him search. He won’t find anything but the empty barrels left over from Miss Marjoram's days, will he? The tranter is moving the stuff out at four on Sunday morning.”

“He doesn’t know for sure about the cellar and the secret stairs.”

“He knows. I must find a new spot for the time being.”

“If you say so, dearie.”

“Act perfectly innocent, Rose Marie. Express every horror at the discovery, and claim you mean to put locks two inches thick on the door. I don’t have to tell Kean’s acting partner how to convince him.”

“It’ll be a real pleasure! Mind you I like the rascal for all he’s on the wrong side of the law for us. It’s such fun to see him trying to act like a commoner. I could give him a few lessons.”

She delayed her meat buying till she had performed for Williams. Later, she stopped in at the rectory and told me Williams had accepted her offer. He meant to go ahead with his investigation, of course. My threat and its two-day execution meant nothing to him. How should it, when he was engaged to Lady Lucy? As he was flagrantly flying in my face, you may imagine the icy reception he received in the choir on Sunday. He hung around after the service to help me with my pelisse. I accepted his help with a cold “Thank you” and not so much as a glance at him. I heard his footsteps coming down the stairs after me, but kept a step ahead that I not require his help with the door.

His next move was to try to strike up a chat with Andrew, with what success I know not, as I walked immediately home at a swift pace, without looking over my shoulder. Nor did I see him in the church yard later through the curtains. Going straight to the tavern for his lunch, as he had his afternoon’s work cut out searching the Eyrie. He did not come to us in the evening, nor on Monday or Tuesday, but on Wednesday he went to the choir practice. I looked at everyone but him as I led them in song, and made sure I kept my pelisse beside
me so that I could get it onto my own back afterward without his help. He hung back as the others galloped down the stairs, picking up a few songbooks from the back chairs. I accepted them with a nod and tied up my bonnet, glancing down into the church to see if Andrew was there.

“I am walking you home,” he said. “I told Andrew this afternoon I would see to it.”

“That is not necessary, Mr. Williams. It is only a step.”

I turned and went downstairs, with him behind me, reaching over my shoulder for the door, which I got open just as he put his hand on it, so that he fell forward on my back.

I twitched and made a tsk of annoyance, as any old maid would.

“Sorry,” he said, in accents that held no sorrow whatsoever, but a great deal of angry vexation.

The gallery stairs terminate in the church porch, where the calico is given out, and on Christmas, the baskets and blankets. This small anteroom is pitch-black when the door is closed, as it was on this occasion. It is as much these four steps as anything that make me welcome Andrew’s company for getting home. Not that anyone was likely to skulk about and bash me over the head, but one could if he wanted to, and it is rather frightening. I stepped quickly across the little porch, fumbling for the door handle in the darkness. I felt Mr. Williams’ hand there, also on the latch. His other hand fell on my elbow, where it tightened to a hard grip.

“We’re not leaving till we’ve had a little talk, Mab,” he said.

I was not in the least frightened, though he tried to put a menacing tone into his voice. “Stay and talk to yourself,” I advised, pulling at the handle. His fingers tightened over mine, pushing the door closed.

“No, I am going to talk to
you,
and you are going to talk to me. This is nonsense, fighting about a band of outlaw smugglers. What do they mean to either of us, that we should become enemies over them?”

“If they mean nothing to you, then stop trying to catch them.”

“They
do
mean something to me. They mean I can marry you. Get a good job in London, and become respectable—a gentleman.”

All this was said in the perfect darkness so that I could not see the sly smile he wore. He had his voice under good enough control too that I could find no dissembling tone in it.

Oh, the dark plays strange tricks on us. It was so easy to think, there where I could not see him, that he was serious, that he did indeed want to marry me.

“Mab,” he went on, in a coaxing, wheedling way, while his hand squeezed my arm. “They are criminals. They break the law every day. I’ve told you I’ll not tattle on any of the men—just let me catch Miss Sage. Now I
know
it is none of those poor out-of-work devils that are behind this. It’s Porson, or someone like him. He deserves to be caught.”