Endure My Heart (31 page)

“Miss?” the voice called. My tattered little guardian angel, Jemmie, had come to rescue me. Then I ceased being a witch. A hot tear scalded my eyes, the pineapple in my throat swelled to the size of a flawn cake, then dissipated.

“Jemmie—here on the floor,” I called.

He scrabbled into the room, worked his way toward me, feeling in the darkness for my bindings. He had a knife—up to all the rigs. In an instant I was cut free, and trying to stand up, only to find my feet and legs up to the knees were numb. A million needles pierced them, making movement impossible.

“Ye’ve got to get out, miss,” Jemmie urged all the while. “They’ve got half the lads rounded up and taken to the school, but I escaped.”

“How did you do it?”

“I had my trusty knife slid into my belt, and they missed it when they frisked us for weapons. None of the lads know who ye are, and wouldn’t tell if they did. The revenuers will be coming for me as soon as they notice I’ve escaped. I must hide.”

“Leave town, Jem,” I advised at once. Wicklow knew him to be the second in command of the outfit. He had spotted him long ago for my contact.

“Leave town?” he asked, shocked at the very notion of deserting his tribe. “Nay, they’ll be needing me worse than ever now, won’t they? Who’s to rescue the stuff if I go?”

“Rescue the stuff! You’re mad. If we can rescue our own skins we may count ourselves lucky.”

He laughed. How very odd it sounded, in that room of horror, to hear cocky, youthful, authority-deriding laughter.

“Run along home then, miss, and let Miss Parsley handle it,” he suggested. “Not to say ye haven’t done a grand job, miss, for ye have. I’ll never match ye for pure brains, but where nerve is needed, a man’s mettle is called for.”

My mantle was being snatched from me by a youngster not yet twenty. I didn’t lift a finger to retain it. If he had the brass to tackle Wicklow after this night’s work, he deserved to be Miss Parsley. Meanwhile, it was Miss Sage that Wicklow wanted, and I was still Miss Sage. I counted on his integrity to stick to our bargain. He had promised me he would let the men go and arrest only Miss Sage. I meant to make him stick by that bargain, come hell or high water. I explained this to Jem, who hardly deigned to listen at all.

“There’s nought to fear, miss. They’re taking a list of names at the school, but the lads are none of ‘em simpleminded enough to give their right names, but have called themselves Mr. Mulligan and Mr. Prunder, and all the old gaffers who have a wife to testify they didn’t leave their fireside all night long. Those fancy Lunnon soldiers ain’t going to he able to swear to the face of a man they took half a glance at once in the dark, and every one of the lads pulling his face out of shape and twitching his eyes and squinting till his own woman wouldn’t recognize him.”

“They won’t have to recognize them. They will have them safe under lock and key at the school.”

“Nay, miss, they’ve only got the half of ‘em. T’other half is out and ready to rescue their mates.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“Ye're shook up from the bit of a scuffle. There’s some risk in it to make it pleasurable, and it’s only what t’other half would do, if their places were changed. We’ve got to find some way first to get them dragoons moved from the school, then we strike and let our lads escape. An attack on the brandy is the likeliest way to lure ‘em off. They’ve got no case if they lose their evidence. We’ll not waste time with a real raid.

“I’m thinking the best thing would be for ye to write up a right fancy note under Wicklow’s seal ordering the lad in charge of the prisoners to leave, say, two men on guard, and the rest of ‘em to go at the double into town to the inn, where they’ve got Phillips’ wagons and the brandy. Say the smugglers that wasn’t caught are making a raid. Then we’ll disarm the two guards, myself and Abbie Keely will do it, with a few of the younger lads. We’ll have our whole crew to really rescue the stuff tomorrow night.”

“It would never work.”

“I’ll just see if I can find any sort of paper with an official bit of a seal on it,” was his answer. He sprinted across the shop, up into Wicklow’s private apartment above. Before you could say Jack Robinson he was back, with a candle, a pen and ink and all, for me to add to my crimes by forging a note under Wicklow’s name. I had become an underling in my own enterprise, doing just as Miss Parsley ordered me. She had re-emerged into my life. The reckless bravado of Jem, ready to tackle any odds, had rekindled my spirit. I knew Wicklow’s handwriting perfectly well. Even had some idea how he might word the note. Having heard one of the men call him colonel during the scuffle, I signed it Colonel Wicklow, to add authority to it.

“Where is Wicklow? You’re sure he’s not at the school himself?”

“He was there. He went to the inn to see to the brandy. I reckon he’s questioning Phillips. Phillips don’t know a thing about yourself, miss.”

This settled, Miss Parsley ordered me home. On this point, I refused to budge. Whatever about the men, I had certainly been recognized, and running would do no good, unless I meant to run a lot farther than to the rectory. This option was hastily considered. I might manage to get clean away. But if Jem’s brave trick failed, if my men were after all forced to stand trial...

No, my bargain with Wicklow was Miss Sage in lieu of her men, and if Miss Sage ran like a frightened hare, the bargain would be invalidated. I would stay. I finally convinced Jemmie of this, and with so much to be done, he could not remain longer to argue, much as he wanted to.

“If he’s half a man at all, he won’t turn in a lady,” was Jem’s parting shot. “And if he does, I’ll rescue ye, miss. Ye’ve got Miss Parsley’s word on it.”

It gave me some comfort during the next interminable wait for Wicklow to return. I heard through the walls the rattle of wheels, the sounds of many men at work. He was moving the brandy from the inn to the warehouse—Owens’ warehouse, which would be easier to protect than a public place. It occurred to me a goodly number of men were there, leaving no great number to guard the prisoners at the school, which would make Jem’s job easier.

Maybe he would not require my note. I felt bad about the note. Maybe I was too scrupulous to be a truly successful criminal. My capabilities were slipping badly. I had not thought to have Jem tie me up again before he left. When Stamford came back, I was sitting on the drapery counter, with a candle lit beside me. Of course he looked surprised.

“Why didn’t you leave,” he asked, “as you managed to escape your bonds?”

One glance told me he was in a furious temper. Unrelenting, harsh, vengeful. “We have a bargain,” I reminded him. “I mean to stick to it, and if you are half the gentleman the lowest of my boys is, you will do the same. You promised me you would arrest no one but Miss Sage. Well, here I am. Arrest me.”

He turned on me then with a great fit of wrath, all his ire from the past months issuing forth. The angle of the attack surprised me. “You never meant to marry me at all, did you?” was the first question he hurled at me. “You have been making a May game of me from the moment I arrived in this town. You threw your cap at me, lured me on with smiles and taunts and flirtation, only to find out what I was up to, so you could thwart my every effort to arrest a band of criminals who arc robbing the country of millions of pounds a year. And yourself the kingpin of the outfit.”

I sensed it was the personal part of my crimes that was uppermost in his mind. Not deficient in self-esteem, he (and his vanity) had been dealt a blow at his addresses being treated so lightly. Oh, and to think, they were honest advances all the time! Of that there was no longer any doubt in my mind. Whatever had become of Lady Lucy, she was no longer my foe. I was my own enemy. I gulped down that pineapple that was rising again in my gorge, and tried to explain. “Stamford, I...”

“No, don’t try it again,” was his advice, delivered in a sneering way. “You overestimate your charms to think to gull me now. And to think, I never once suspected you. I thought it was Porson, even Andrew—my God, I must have been mad! I made sure it must be Andrew when I saw the stuff being carted into the crypt, but it never once entered my head you might be at the heart of it. You told me to my face you approved of the smuggling, threatened to stop seeing me, and still I was too blind to put two and two together. I thought you were defending your brother, if you knew anything of it at all.

“And even Andrew I took for Porson’s dupe. I was sure of it when I saw Jem Hessler darting to the assembly rooms after the tranter’s wagon was spotted on the sheepwalk, and thought how very like Andrew it was to wander off after telling Jem to be in touch with him there. I never could fathom whether his absentmindedness was all play-acting, or partially real. Andrew was a good dupe for you, was he not? A brother who asked no questions must have been nearly as good as one who performed more active jobs. And then of course his mantle of respectability was another aid.”

“I never used Andrew—not in any way.”

“You saved that honor for me, did you? Flattering, I am sure. I shall pander to your pride by telling you something. I felt like Judas Iscariot when I thought it was Andrew I would have to arrest. I was not at all sure I could go through with it. I spent several hours trying to work out some scheme that would spare him, because of you. And all the time, all the while I worried about wounding your sensitive feelings, you were scheming behind my back to make a laughingstock, an ass of me.

“You were hobnobbing with the lowest ragtag and bobtail in the community, leading them into crime and considerable danger, while you trotted up to your choir loft to lead the hymns, and to dispense your charity at the church door, the picture of maidenly virtue. God, it’s disgusting! I thought I had discovered some ideal woman in you, someone so devout, so much above me she spent every waking moment doing good for the less fortunate.”

His voice had been rising to a crescendo during this long tirade. It lowered to a more intimate pitch. “I felt fortunate beyond human comprehension that a woman like you could love me. Even my poverty did not turn you off. How should it, when you were busy lining your pockets with your ill-got gains!”

“I was not lining my pockets. I was helping the less fortunate.”

“Yes, the less fortunate Miss Anderson. I still can’t make heads or tails of you. The more I consider it, the less understandable it all becomes. You give away the thousand pounds you won, more or less legally at the lottery...”

“I didn’t win it! It was smuggling money. Why do you think I do this? For myself? Do you find me decked in silks and satins, except when I am trying to impress you? I have one velvet gown to my name, and I bought it after you came here. Three quarters of the money goes to help the poor. Warm coats for the schoolchildren, a guinea sneaked home in their pockets, another into the hand of any of the hundreds who drop around at the rectory, and the
Seamew
was my effort to get rid of the bulk of the money, to try to do some good among the needy. I was only trying to help, and doing it pretty effectively too, till you came barging in, making life difficult for me.”

“If I have made your life difficult, you may console yourself with the thought you have made mine impossible. I was a happy man when I came to this town, I thought myself in love with a perfectly fine girl, was half engaged to marry her, in fact, but had soon convinced myself it was no more than a passing fancy, after I met you. I have managed to squeak out of that attachment, only to find myself entangled with a criminal.”

“Lady Lucy will not be aware of the attachment. You were at pains to bide it for as long as you could.”

“For your benefit! I had not realized you were the infamous Miss Sage, you see, and took the foolish notion the smugglers might mistreat you if your engagement to me became known.”

“Quite sure you weren’t afraid Lady Lucy would hear of it?” I asked sharply.

“How do you come to know it is Lucy we are speaking of? I did not tell you. Have you had me followed, or are you indebted to your aunt for the information? I am surprised you haven’t discovered as well the connection was broken off at Christmas. She is to be married to a fellow officer, a friend of mine, in a week’s time. Well, how should you think I could be planning to marry you, if I were still engaged?”

“I didn’t think it.”

He looked up sharply, a puzzled frown on his face. “What is that supposed to mean? I gave you an engagement ring, spoke to your brother, half the town knows we are betrothed. My aunt is having Oakvale turned inside out to make it ready for you; my man of business is this day readying the marriage settlement…”

My regrets were as deep as the ocean. He had meant it all along; had never flagged in his intentions, never swerved in his love. I had brought this all on my own head. It did not lessen my remorse. Suddenly there was a shattering silence in the room, as we looked at each other uncertainly. “Well, what did you think was going on?” he asked, in a softer voice than I had heard that night.

“I thought you were using me, to find out what you could about the smugglers. First I thought so. Then later on, I concluded you suspected me.”

“I don’t know where you could have got any such idea. I never did find anything out from you. You of all people were as close as—Miss Sage. After we were officially engaged seems a strange time for your doubts to have increased. No, I cannot believe you doubted—not when we were at Felixstone. Something must have happened.” His tones, his whole attitude had softened. He had not only ceased speaking daggers, he was not far removed from tenderness.

“Yes, two things happened. One of them was your lie to Ganner and myself about coming back on Saturday. You must have suspected me then, or why did you tell me that, when you meant to return the Friday night?”

“No, it was not you the message was meant for. I was fairly sure Ganner was a sort of silent partner, or adviser— something of the sort. He tipped me the clue about the plagued sailor, and I figured if I told him a secret, he would see it got to the right party for me. As there was some possibility Andrew was the party we speak of, I told you the same thing. But that was later. You spoke of two things. What was the other?”