Endure My Heart (21 page)

In the morning, I had several callers. The first was Officer Crites, in a high state of perturbation. He ought not to have told anyone his story by rights, but such news as he thought he had discovered really must be shared and discussed with someone. It is impossible to keep a huge, palpitating grievance totally to oneself, and the unfortunate man had not what you could call a friend in the whole village. I put on my most civil face to greet him.

“Officer, come in,” I invited cheerily, and took him inside to hear his tale of woe. “What happened last night? Did you catch Miss Sage and the smugglers?”

“No, they got away,” he confessed sheepishly. “They did not land it at the Eyrie, as you thought.”

“When I heard in the village that Mr. Williams had been there, looking through the cellar, I made sure...” I let my voice dwindle off, hoping he would pick up and elaborate on the name mentioned.

“He was there,” he informed me, bloated with news. “Miss Anderson, he is not a smuggler at all. He is a special agent sent down from London by the Board of Trade, and not telling me!”

“What a shabby trick!” I answered at once, in a manner that (I hoped) combined ire and sympathy. “And what a strange way to set about things. Why, how should he hope to catch the gentlemen, without your help?”

“Exactly what I asked him myself. Why did he not make himself known to me? He was kind enough to say he wished to work in complete secrecy. He did not say so, but there is surely an imputation in that remark that he does not trust me.”

“This is beyond anything! If he cannot trust a customs man, whom can he trust? You, who know all their tricks, could have been an inestimable help to him.”

“He trusts no one, that fellow. Going behind my back to get that reward posted. They never would agree to a reward when
I
was in charge. Anyone could catch them with a huge reward to send all the townsfolk trotting to give you clues. But one of their own, you see. They all stick together. He is a baronet, Miss Anderson, and a colonel—was a colonel, but has sold out. It is all a great secret, I hardly need tell you, but I can always trust your discretion.”

“You may be sure you can. I shan’t tell a soul. But what happened? How did you discover all this?” I prodded gently, while my body felt like bursting out of its skin with curiosity.

“The most disastrous evening, Miss Anderson. I writhe to remember it. I went to the Eyrie at eleven, and after slipping about a bit through the trees and bushes, spotted him there. He had a hand telescope. They never issued
me
a telescope, and he was training it on the sea. When a lugger was spotted coming along, he moved up close to the house, and I thought he was getting set to signal it—thought he was Miss Sage, you see, telling it where to land. It was all as dark as could be, and the lugger hadn’t any lights burning at all, which is a good sign it was a smuggling vessel, you know, for in the general way you would see a light or two moving about on board. So I crept up softly behind him, and knocked him out.

“I hit him a stout blow on the back of the head. He was out for ten minutes, and I had got him all bound up by the time he came to. Such a string of oaths as he swore off at me, I never heard the likes! Barracks talk, it does not bear repeating. Then he asked what had happened to the ship. How should I be able to watch the ship and himself at the same time? By the time I went down to the shore and had a look, there wasn’t a sign of it, but it certainly did not land at the Eyrie. That I do know, and would swear an affidavit on it.

“So in effect he didn’t know a thing more than I knew myself, in spite of his thousand pounds reward, and his fancy telescope. A dandy one it was, with silver mountings. You can see a mile with it. He says he bought it himself with his own money, but if he did, he is making a good deal more than
I
make, for I could not afford anything of the sort.”

I surmised Wicklow had already called him to account for letting the ship get out of view while he concerned himself with one man, and said not a word of remonstrance in that regard, but only urged him on with his story by an encouraging nod and suitable feminine cluckings.

“Then he told me the cock-and-bull story—that is, I did not believe a tenth of it at the time as to who he is, and what he is doing here. It sounded like a ruse to get away from me, and I refused to untie him. Well, the upshot of it is that I took him into town, still tied, and we went along to Owens’ shop and he showed me documents and letters proving beyond a doubt that he is a special agent sent down from the Board of Trade to put a stop to Miss Sage. He had a report there on myself as well which I tried to get a look at, but he shuffled it under some other papers. He is giving me a bad character, of course, or he would not have been at pains to hide it from me. There will doubtlessly be inspectors down here asking questions about me. I hope I may count on you to put in a good word, ma’am, for you at least know how hard I have always worked at my job. The townsfolk all hate me, but
you
have been kind enough in the past to give me a hand upon occasion. A minister’s sister and local schoolteacher must have a good deal of influence.”

I assured him of my wholehearted support, then slipped in a question as to what had come of the ship. “We lost sight of it entirely while riding into town and looking over his documents. He lays it all in my dish, but if I believed that every stranger who told me he was an inspector
was
an inspector, where would we be? I’d never make a catch.” He never made one anyway
,
but this point was of course not
raised.

It was time to proceed to point two. “You think the load that was aboard that lugger was landed, do you?” I asked.

“I expect it was, but it was not landed at the Eyrie.”

“No, unless they went past it to fool the revenuemen, then doubled back. It would be strange, would it not, if it was landed there after all?”

“I cannot think it at all likely. I would suspect Lord Aiken’s place, if it were not for the fact that the coffin landed there a while back did in fact have a plague victim in it. It was exhumed, you know. Williams’ work again. He thinks himself so clever, but the coffin did contain a corpse, for there is a skull and some remains which prove it. We will be lucky if we’re not all infected, with having a plague victim’s coffin opened and the remains probed. Who is to say a fire will kill all the germs? Much a city baronet and colonel cares if we are all killed with the black plague.”

“It would certainly be a feather in your cap if you could find that load that landed last night,” I said, having some little difficulty keeping him on the track.

“I wish I could do it. It didn’t land at the Eyrie. I’ll have a look at Aiken’s place, just in case, and run down to the school as well. I’ll look into all the old regular spots. As sure as I’m sitting here, there are a hundred barrels of the stuff within walking distance. How I’d love to lay my hands on it. Williams has no more idea where it is than I have myself. Only his name is not Williams at all, actually. It is Wicklow. No one from the Board ever suggested
I
should change my name, use an alias.”

“As you are a local man...” I said, keeping every jot of mirth out of my voice. I had decided on no firm plan for informing him (or Wicklow) of the load resting in Rose Marie’s cellar. If they could not be led to it by indirection, Rose Marie could always “discover” it herself and tell them. She was to come to me that same morning to see if her services were required. I decided Crites would be the one to discover it. It would do his ego some good, and really I felt badly that he had fallen into such a muddle after I put him on to Williams. We went on to discuss the matter for some time, till Rose Marie arrived. When I heard the knocker sound, I went to have a few words with her privately in the hallway.

“I have decided. Crites is here. Tell him.”

“How will I say I found it?”

“Say you heard some ruckus in the cellar late last night, and were too frightened to investigate till daylight. He’ll be so overjoyed he won’t ask many questions.”

She trailed into the room, acting her chore with relish and a certain expertise. The performance that ensued was worthy of Siddons. “Officer Crites! The very person I was looking for!” she exclaimed, then ran forward and latched onto his sleeve in excitement. A nice, professional touch, that. “I have found it! I have won the reward!”

“What? Miss Lock, tell me at once!” Crites replied, grabbing her hands and giving a genuine show of rapture. “Where is it?”

“In my cellar at the Eyrie.”

“No, it can’t be.”

“It is, I assure you. Dozens and dozens of barrels.”

It took a deal of assuring, but after five minutes, Crites was confirmed in his belief that by some impossible means, the gentlemen had landed the stuff under his nose, without being seen. That was his interpretation. It did not occur to him for a moment that it had landed elsewhere and been moved. He had a one-track mind.

“We’ll go at once and put it under guard,” he announced, with his old confidence restored.

“Who will you trust to watch it?” I asked, thinking he would include Williams in the victory.

It was soon clear that his plan was to conceal the find from Williams. He meant to get the senior officer down from Felixstone and put the matter in his charge, but first he had to go to the Eyrie and actually ascertain that the stuff was there. Then he would send a messenger to Felixstone and guard the load himself, with his life if necessary, till it could be carted off safely to the customs house at Felixstone. We had only an office here, not large enough to hold all the barrels.

“I wonder Wicklow didn’t think to order up a customs house from London while he was about it. I’m sure they would have been happy to oblige him. I’ll not say a word till it is in Felixstone or he’ll take the whole credit for himself, and
I’m
the one found it. He never confided in
me,
now he shall have a taste of his own medicine, and see how he likes it.”

“Serves him right,” I agreed.

Crites had entered the house a broken man; he left it triumphant, his chest swollen, his step light and his eyes beaming at Rose Marie. I was pressed to say nothing to Williams, and kept the faith. I did not go into Owens’ shop till I had already heard from a morning caller that Williams was not there. He was in his bed, from having been attacked the night before.

Despite Crites’ making me swear a solemn vow not to reveal Williams’ true identity, some part of the story was in circulation by 11 A.M. It must have come from Crites himself. It was a hard secret to keep, of course. A word to his housekeeper or the errand boy sent off to Felixstone would be enough to get the ball rolling. The tale was soon on every lip in the town, in various forms.

“Oh, Miss Anderson, you’ll never guess what!” Judy Turner told me. “Mr. Williams is a spy! Isn’t it romantic? He’s a general and a lord, sent down from London by the Admiralty to catch the gentlemen.”

Her sister would have it he was a major, but boosted the vague “lord” to marquess, to balance out his glory. He was variously an earl, a knight and a captain and colonel, but always he was a secret agent of the Customs Department. Now in a smuggling village, this certainly should have made him a scoundrel of the first water, but in the view of the girls, he was so glamorous a scoundrel that he was forgiven for trying to take away the livelihood of their fathers and brothers. He would not be forgiven by those same fathers and brothers, but that was another matter. He continued a Don Juan with the females, so long as he did not have too much success in his work.

He remained in his bed all that day, while Crites sent off for Officer Merrill from Felixstone, who came posting down to oversee the affair. He should have begun rounding up local carts at once to take the contraband away. It was the sane thing to do. Greed swept over all the local cart and horse owners, who felt that as it was the government’s money, Merrill was being a bit of a skint to offer them no more than the going rate. This so vexed Merrill that he refused to hire any of them, and sent an order off to Felixstone to have carts sent down from there. He was in no hurry to get away. The Turner twins, Miss Trebar and all our local beauties made a great fuss over him, puffing him up till he began to feel himself a hero. It cost him nothing to stay, since his room and expenses at the inn were all being paid out of our tax money.

Crites communicated his unease to Officer Merrill that the Eyrie was such a tricky place the smugglers could come and go without anyone seeing a trace of them. Our local carts were employed (at an undisclosed price) to take the stuff from the Eyrie into town, to be placed in the stableyard at the inn, where a guard was mounted twenty-four hours a day. A parade no less well attended than the arrival of the laurel-laden coaches announcing Wellington’s victories ensued.

Living on the edge of the town as we did, Andrew, Miss Halka and myself did not consider it beneath our dignity to walk to the edge of the street to see it pass by. “I was amazed to hear Mr. Williams is in on this,” Andrew said, shaking his head ruefully. “He is a government man, you know, Mab,” he told me, in tones of confidence.

It was dreadfully like Andrew to tell us such news several hours after it was known all over town. “Of course, he thinks he is doing what is right. I shan’t cut him because of it. I went to visit him. He has a wretched headache, poor fellow, but will come around this evening, he says.”

This was news, not unwelcome either, as I was looking forward to twisting his nose about Crites outwitting him. I had not forgotten his letter from Lady Lucy amid all the day’s confusion. His stay with us must be drawing to a close, if plans were going forward for his marriage, as the arrival of the letter intimated.

Or were we to have the doubtful felicity of her lording it over us at Salford? The Turners would not like it. I had every intention of expressing myself enchanted with her and the match.

Chapter Seventeen

Williams came around eight,
after dinner was finished, and the family seated in the front room. He wore no bandage, but showed us the large bump on the back of his head. “I suppose you’ve heard all about last night?” he asked.