Endure My Heart (26 page)

As I drove to school Monday morning, my eyes were scanning the spots known to house my gentlemen. It could not be coincidence that each house was guarded by a brace of red-jacketed soldiers. Wicklow knew all my boys, and was taking no chances. They were still there, their postures very little altered, when I returned home in the afternoon.

They were very gallant—it is an honor to be in the Prince’s own regiment, you understand. One could not complain of their manners. Tuesday and Wednesday this farce continued, while nerves stretched taut. The dragoons worked on shifts; night and day the coast was guarded. I sent out word via Jemmie to my men that nothing was to be done about grappling. Then on Thursday a letter arrived that changed everything.

At last my Aunt Harvey got around to answering my letter. It had been forwarded to her from Devonshire. While I read her brief missive, I saw red—quite literally a red curtain seemed to fall over my eyes, inciting me to a sort of madness. I understand how the bulls feel when they are so aggravated. After a hopeful mention that she would not be reading my name again in the journals linked with smugglers, she got down to the gist of what interested me.

She had accompanied Lady Lucy to London to meet her fiancé to arrange final details for her wedding, which was to take place in two weeks. The fact of Lady Lucy’s being motherless led her to have pity on the girl. This might also be read as the fact of Lord Hadley’s being wifeless and my aunt husbandless, but to me of more importance was that Wicklow had been claiming to receive a letter from the ghost of Lucy’s mama.

His “business” in London was now explained—wedding business. His sudden eagerness to trap Miss Sage was all of a piece with the rest. He wanted it done in time for the wedding, successfully done, to put him in line for his promotion. It was at this time that I finally realized the full depths of his depravity. Some little glimmerings of it had surfaced earlier, the night of his return from London, when Ganner and myself spoke of his telling lies to the two of us. He knew Ganner had been Miss Thyme; he also knew I had replaced him. There could be no other explanation. He wanted me to bring in that load, and get caught.

As well as completing the job he had come to do, it would exonerate him from any moral culpability in jilting me as well. Clearly he would not be expected to honor an engagement to a smuggler. He had suspected me all along, for months. All those long seatings in my saloon, when I thought he had come for romance—it was all business. He did not care a straw for me, never had. I believed the matter of pushing forward even to the point of giving me an engagement ring was to repay me for having so often outwitted him in our business dealings. The matter of the reward for Rose Marie, for instance, and having set Crites onto him.

Yes, he knew that—had taunted me about it. He had the effrontery to sit in my saloon, throwing in my face that he had run Miss Sage to a standstill. We would see about that! For about thirty minutes I was too agitated to do a thing but relive the past months, confirming various details in my mind that supported my hypothesis. I could not fathom how I had become such a fool. While I wrestled with my conscience over letting him love me, he had been snickering up his sleeve. He had managed to follow Jemmie to me, obviously. He knew all my men—why should he not know about me? And as if I needed any further aggravation, my aunt’s last playful sentence was that she would tell Wicklow, at the wedding, how often I asked for him!

It would have been woefully easy to go into a decline after all this lugubrious thinking. I am proud to say I did nothing of the sort. I was so ashamed of my folly, my weakness, I determined I would not give another thought to Sir Stamford, except to outwitting him. How lacking in pride and determination I had been, only because he claimed he would catch Miss Sage. Well, she had outwitted him more than once, and would do it again, with the dragoons thrown into the bargain.

Instead of sleeping that night, I devised a method of rescuing our dumped cognac before it should be quite worthless. The
Seamew
would have a little mechanical difficulty that prevented her from going out to fish at sea as she customarily did. She would be tentatively repaired, but spend a day cruising close to shore, to ensure she was sound.

A leak sounded the likeliest thing. Some caulking must be pulled out, just enough to allow a slow leak, in case Wicklow or the dragoons checked, as I was sure they would do. The day’s close cruising would see the grapples pulling the barrels to within wading distance for recovering by my gentlemen. The actual rolling ashore would be done in the dead of night. There weren’t that many dragoons to thwart us. The entire regiment had not been sent down, but only one company, under the command of Captain Lawson, who reported directly to Wicklow. Wicklow was being called colonel these days, a habit picked up by the locals from the soldiers.

I was not the only person in Salford who was minutely aware of the dragoons’ every movement. They were manna from heaven to the Turner twins and the likes of Sally Trebar, who let off rolling her eyes at Andrew altogether. Did I think to mention Miss Simpson came dashing over from Felixstone the morning after their arrival? You may guess what brought her at this time to billet herself on the Trebars. Awake on all suits, that one. The pair of them kept the roads warm, trotting from one end of town to the other, then down the shore road in Sally’s brother’s gig, to stop and flirt with each pair of red jackets. Shameless hussies. You wonder what Mrs. Simpson was about, letting her daughter make such a cake of herself.

With Miss Simpson in town, the great secret of my engagement to Sir Stamford was soon public knowledge. He still dropped by to visit me quite frequently, and was greeted with an affability in no way diminished from formerly. I didn’t intend to let him know I was on to him. It would be difficult to judge which of us was the better actor.

The very evening of the day Miss Simpson came to Salford to join the dragoons he dropped by. Edna, the gudgeon, got up and walked out of the saloon the minute he entered, with a coy mention that we would have things to talk about. I had told her all about his duplicity, for I could not keep it to myself. I believe the brain of an unmarried female develops a soft spot where men are concerned, at about age thirty-five or forty. There is no other way to account for her stubborn insistence that it was all some misunderstanding, for Stamford would not be so low as to hurt me.

“I’m afraid our secret is out, Mab,” he began, with an arch smile, as he threw his greatcoat on a chair. He ran quite tame with us by this time, all formality abandoned. “I have received half a dozen congratulations. It is Miss Simpson’s doing, of course. I knew as soon as I saw her it would not be long.”

“Wretched timing on her part, to proclaim me taken, when the town is full of so many handsome men!”

“Too late for second thoughts, my girl. You’re mine now,” he declared in a fine fit of passion, and seized me in his arms for an embrace which only a true engagement could excuse. It left me breathless. I suddenly realized which of us was the better performer. There was no way I could match this sangfroid.

“It did you no good to make me hide my engagement ring, you see! Truth will out,” I teased, trying to match his skill.

I was ready to attempt pouts, sulks, coy smiles, the whole role of the coquette. I would lay it on with a trowel.

“You’re right. True love and a cough cannot be hidden. You might as well wear your ring on your finger now. In fact, you must. Captain Lawson was inquiring of me this afternoon who the ravishing lady is who will never smile at him, and took an oath he would bring you round his finger before he left. I had to pull rank on him, and my rank is only borrowed at the moment. He might take into his head to disobey me on non-military matters.”

“Ah, Captain Lawson! Isn’t he the terribly handsome one, with the black hair and sultry eyes?”

“He said you hadn’t even looked at him!” Wicklow exclaimed, simulating jealousy.

“Yes, you see how effective playing hard to get is!” I laughed.

“Mabel, I want that ring on your finger this instant!” he commanded.

“Aye aye, Colonel.”

“That’s more like it,” he said. He lifted the little gold chain I wore round my neck, pulling it up from my collar to look at the ring. “No one has bothered you about the engagement?” he asked.

“No, the excitement of the dragoons, you know…”

He was fumbling with the catch, undoing it, sliding the ring into the palm of his hand. As he put it on my finger, he asked, “How soon can we add a golden band to go with it?”

Some madness compounded of anger, jealousy and spite goaded me to suggest his own wedding date. “How about two weeks from now?”

All my fears that did not really need confirming were confirmed by his reaction. First he laughed nervously, then a strange, amused look danced into his eyes. “Let us make it three weeks, darling. I happen to be very busy two weeks from now.”

“Another trip to London to dance attendance on the Hadleys, I suppose?”

“Just so. An event of great importance is taking place. I cannot miss it, but it will not interfere with our plans. Name any other date you like. Shall I speak to Andrew, by the way? Just for the looks of it. He will not want to hear in the streets his sister is being married, without first hearing it from us.”

“Let us wait a little,” I parried, not wishing to disturb Andrew with this nonsense. Not that he would care much.

“You do not seriously wish to be married so soon, do you?” was his next telling speech.

“I see no point in waiting. I don’t think you are very eager to be getting on with it,” I pouted, which nudged him into a reassuring peck on the cheek.

“You know better than that. I was only thinking of your job. I assumed you would carry on till the Easter holiday at least. Truth to tell, I was afraid you’d he wanting to go on till summer. I am happy to see you are not quite so conscientious as that.” Playing the lover to the hilt, he put an arm around my waist and walked me to the settee.

“Now, let us set a date,” he said in a firm, commanding manner. “How about the week after Easter? If you give Mrs. Aldridge your notice immediately, you can leave then. I don’t think you should leave her with less notice. You will not be easy to replace.” He squeezed my fingers, with just a little possessive peep down at the ring.

I was quite simply staggered to see how far he was willing to go. Did he actually mean to have the banns read in church? “You are quite sure you will have caught Miss Sage by then, are you?” I asked in what I hoped was a fairly nonchalant voice.

“Quite sure,” was his cocky answer.

“You and the dragoons, that is,” I pointed out.

“Lawson tells me they are on maneuvers only.”

“Hmm, but when they arrive hard on the heels of your last trip to London, and do their maneuvering on the shore road, one wonders   But never mind, they are as welcome as the rain here at Salford. Such a goodly number of eligible men.”

“Out of bounds to you, every one of them,” he said.

I did not mention his having returned a day early, and he made some remark about having come Saturday morning, so I said nothing to tell him I knew better. He obviously knew there was a load of brandy dumped, and was at no pains to hide his knowledge. He was playing at cat and mouse, to see if I would let fall any additional information.

To prevent that possibility, I discussed a likely spot for our honeymoon. London, I thought. Then he went on to speak of Oakvale. It was all very tentative, however. Nothing was firmly settled, nor did he mention any communication, even by correspondence, with his aunt who kept house for him, which was a clear corroboration he had no intention of marrying me. He got nothing out of me about my plans, and told me nothing of his schemes for the dragoons.

The soldiers were a real nuisance to my gentlemen. They got their barrels grappled in close enough to shore to wade for them, but were afraid to bring them in the rest of the way. It could be done under cover of darkness well enough, but the matter of storing them till the tranter could pick them up proved more difficult. Those dragoons were like bees in a flower garden, buzzing here, there, everywhere, looking for the goods. Edna suggested bribing a few of them, but quite apart from disliking to corrupt the King’s officers, I did not feel it was at all safe. They would have orders to report any such attempt to Wicklow, perhaps even to be rewarded.

When they were on duty, they were martinets, but on their off-duty hours they were about as accomplished a company of flirts as you ever laid an eye on. They were ‘walking out” with the local belles within twenty-four hours of their arrival. In fact, Sally Trebar had one of them carrying her parcels home within fifteen minutes of his first step onto the main street. A sudden period of social gaiety descended on us. Families who had never entertained anyone but their own relatives and in-laws were suddenly tossing tea parties and routs for the youngsters, in an effort to unburden themselves of their daughters.

Mrs. Trebar ran an unofficial gambling den about twelve hours a day, to get as many red jackets as her saloon could hold. The real gamesters among them were not long in finding their way to Holy Hell. When it was learned the officers numbered a couple of noble sons in their ranks (younger sons), Lady Ann, Ganner’s wife, invited a couple of nieces down, and held one very dull drum. Salford does not usually bother much with assemblies in the bleak winter months, but spring was declared a few weeks early to maximize opportunities for commingling. The first spring assembly was set for March 5, a Saturday.

As I was quite publicly an engaged lady, even to the extent of Andrew’s having mentioned he heard I was going to marry Williams, and he was very happy about it, I suggested to my temporary fiancé that I would enjoy attending the dance.

His hesitation could not be due to wishing to hide the engagement. I surmised then that it was a reluctance to abandon the coast to Miss Sage’s gentlemen. It certainly had occurred to me that some decrease of dragoons might be on duty that night, making it a good time for the tranter to take a run down the road to pick up the barrels. I learned to my great surprise that the young ladies of Salford were to be sorely disappointed at the assembly. “I’m afraid I can’t take you, Mab,” he said.