Endure My Heart (33 page)

That he had not chosen to come before now boded ill. It was beginning to look as though he meant to turn me in, even if Edna, peeping her head in at the door at two-minute intervals, could not believe it. If he declined the summons, I would dash out and hire the best lawyer Sir Elwood could recommend—one from London if that was what he felt was required.

And Ganner could jolly well help me pay for him too as my pockets were virtually to let. I was not kept long on the anxious seat. Within twenty minutes, there was a rattle at the front door. I went to pull Stamford into the saloon and close the door behind us. With so many real concerns pressing on my spirit, I had not performed a careful toilette that morning. I do not recall having so much as glanced in the mirror at all, or dragging a brush through my hair.

Between fatigue, worry and scheming, I expect I looked a perfect fright. My disarray had the wonderful effect of inciting my caller to pity. I could see it softening his expression, resting in his eyes when he looked at me. A man full of pity for a woman he loves is the most malleable creature in God’s world. His first words warmed my heart. “What the devil are we to do, Mab?” he asked. Not a lover-like speech, to be sure, but an acknowledgment that we were in this muddle together. It was no longer as adversaries that we met.

A terribly unattractive sort of a hiccoughing sound came out of my throat, not planned to con him either, but an involuntary thing, of pure heartfelt relief. I reached out for him, and was crushed into his arms. They felt so strong, so protective, I wished I could burrow into them like a rabbit in his warren, and bide for the next twenty years. His voice was gentle, loving in my ears as he stroked my head, my shoulders. “It’s all right, sweetheart. It’s going to be all right. We’ll think of something. I’ve been wrestling with my conscience all night, and know I must protect you. It is the right thing to do.”

I lifted my face from his shoulder to proffer some thanks, and was soundly kissed. “And if it weren’t right, I would do it anyway,” he added gallantly. “I have had very little taste for my work the past months. Andrew’s philosophy and my own experience convinced me the smugglers were more to be pitied than censured, and as Miss Sage has turned out not to be a bloated parasite after all…” He stopped and looked at me, with a rueful smile and a shake of his head. “Will
I ever be able to handle you? I doubt it, but I expect you will handle me very well. So, let us put that agile mind of yours to work, and see what is to be done.”

We sat together on the settee, our knees touching, our fingers intertwined, but I did not blurt out my whole plan at once, as I did not wish to reveal the full depths of my conniving, horrid brain.

“What I have been thinking,” he began, “is that since I cannot hand over Miss Sage, I shall claim he is dead—killed in this last raid. You must help me, Mab. I know full well that was no plague victim burned at the beach. Where did you get the body? Hire a gravedigger?”

“No, Jemmie did it. I only meant for them to bury stones.”

I marveled anew at how closely attuned our two minds were. I fully expected he would continue to reveal to me my own plan, complete in all its details, but he did not yet have hold of all the necessary facts.

“How is Jemmie? Was he badly hurt when Lawson winged him? I’ll have to pay him a visit and proclaim him whole and unharmed. I see he is able to walk at least—saw him with his higgler’s wagon an hour ago but he looked very much out of sorts. There is a good deal of suspicion he is the one that got nicked. Deserves it too, forging that note under my name.”

“Ahem—actually, Stamford…”

He looked at me with a sapient eye. “Actually he is next door to an illiterate, I expect, and the note was written by you! Right?”

“He did
suggest
it.”

“I am glad he didn’t suggest putting a bullet through me.”

“He is not at all vicious. He is fine, by the way. He wasn’t hit at all.”

“Was he not? They all swore Lawson had got him. When they began speaking of ‘a little fellow’ and someone mentioned even that it could be a woman, I was sure …” He looked suddenly at me, his jaw dropping. “Mab—it wasn’t you! It couldn’t be... I had just left you here…” His eyes began darting over me, as though to find the gaping wound.

“No, it was Lady, his collie, that was hit. She is dead, poor thing.”

“Thank God for that! The men had orders not to shoot, except in self-defense, but they are so eager to get out of this place they became a little overly enthusiastic. I understand Jemmie cracked one of them over the head, however, so I could not read any severe strictures to the men. My hope was that we might claim Lawson had killed someone, who would instantly become Miss Sage, of course. We can hardly elevate a canine to the post of chief smuggler, can we?”

“No, but we could very well transplant Lady to a coffin and invent someone else to be Miss Sage.”

“Yes. That is exactly what I was thinking, but who? At the very least, it means hustling one of the fellows out of town, never to be seen again. Jemmie, that go-getter, is the natural choice, but unfortunately he is out peddling his fish and glass beads this very minute, seen by everyone. These provincial people are so closely tied to their little town, I expect they’d as soon be hanged as have to leave.”

“There is one person who has already left—Rose Marie,” I mentioned, glancing at her letter, which sat on the sofa table before us.

He looked up, his eyes alight with interest. “By God, you’re right!” he said, quick to leap to my meaning. “But where is she gone? It wouldn’t do for her to come prancing back in six months’ time.”

“I have had a letter from her this morning,” I answered, handing it to him. He looked it over quickly.

“She was an actress, was she? That’s one more point for you. I didn’t tumble to that, though I should have realized when she made her entrance so soon after your trip to London there was some connection. And Miss Simon was her sister, eh? I presume you trust them implicitly, as they were used at the Eyrie. So, we can write to her at Wantage warning her away from Salford. There is no danger she will ever be picked up, living like a gypsy with a wandering troupe of actors, and it seems utterly unlikely the sister will ever return here. Both used phony names too, to further confuse the matter. Yes, Rose Marie will make a marvelous Miss Sage. The only hitch in it is that we shall have to produce a body—a human body—for purposes of identification. I expect it is that bleater of a Ganner who gives one the certificate.”

“Ganner won’t give us any trouble. With yourself and him to swear it is her in the coffin, no one will question it.”

“We’ll need a death certificate—some doctor must be in your hire, I expect.”

“No, but we can get a certificate from the doctor without showing him the body. When it is learned she has been dead for over twelve hours, Dr. Shebley will not insist on an examination.”

“I rather dislike revealing to Miss Thyme what I am about, but then he is hardly in a position to tell anyone.”

“We’ll leave you out of it. I’ll arrange the death certificate and identification from him myself, and he will never be sure whether you…”

“Whether I am a fool or a scoundrel,” he finished for me, not very well pleased with this aspect of the matter. “You can’t have everything, I suppose. And as I am getting you, I shan’t stick at giving Ganner a poor opinion of me.”

“Your help in the matter will not lower you in his esteem.”

“Who else in this town have you led astray?” he asked.

“Everyone but the Reverend Anderson and Squire Porson. The former is incorruptible, and the latter was already gone astray long before I met him.”

“I still wish Porson had been Miss Sage.”

“He hasn’t time. His evenings are all taken up chasing the village wenches, and catching them too.”

“I’ve noticed a lot of redheads in town. Rose Marie and Lady will do well enough. She is an excellent choice—having lived at the Eyrie as she did, and its being so closely associated with the smuggling. It will be assumed she moved there for the purpose, as she did, of course. Before many hours are out it will be reported she was seen within a mile of town long after she was supposed to have left. Hiding out in the hills, directing operations from afar. People are always helpful in such evidence. Yes, and it will be sworn she was seen around town long before she came and took over the Eyrie too. I wonder whether folks make those things up, or imagine them, and talk themselves into belief.”

“Legends take on a life of their own after a bit, based on a bit of fact, and embroidered with a lot of fancy.”

“Or twisted fact. Miss Sage will be head and shoulders above Marjoram and Thyme, what with having claimed the thousand pounds reward for that load she turned in herself, then turning around and stealing it again. Quite a neat caper. Congratulations, Miss Sage.” I dropped a curtsy to acknowledge the compliment. “Her cleverest trick will never be known, I sincerely hope! That she had the chief revenue inspector covering for her, I mean, and breaking every law in the book to save her skin.”

“Ah no! Her cleverest trick is that she caught him for a husband!”

“A joint victory, that. The revenue officer simultaneously rid the coast of her presence, and rescued her from a life of crime. The coast of Salford is now free of smuggling.”

Then he looked at me, while a slow smile spread across his face. “At least until I have my report handed in. You must really twist Jem’s arm on that point, my dear. I will look the greatest fool in the kingdom if Miss Tarragon, or whatever he means to call himself, brings in a load while I present my brief to the president of the Board of Trade.”

“Miss Parsley would not dream of behaving so ungentlemanly. I’ll make him promise a three months’ moratorium at least.”

“Good. By then some other poor devil will have the chore of seeing to it. I don’t envy him. Oh, but I envy me!” he said, laughing boyishly, while he examined his reward.

Under his close scrutiny, I became aware that I was utterly disheveled, with my hair falling down and my gown rumpled from sleeping on the sofa. I began tucking up loose ends and straightening my skirt. He sat patiently till I was done, then immediately took me in his arms to undo all my work with an embrace that rocked me to my core. That old electric charge seared through me. I trembled to think how close I had come to missing out on this.

When he was done, he sat back, smiling with satisfaction, but I had still a few details to speak of. “You mentioned a new revenue officer, Stamford. What will become of Crites? Will he be replaced? He was afraid you had given him a bad report.”

“I wrote out a report but have not sent it in. I was feeling some sympathy with the smugglers already, that long ago. It is not only saving your pretty neck that leads me from the path of duty. I begin to think Crites an excellent fellow for the post, and shall say so in London. There is no need to expand on my reasons for wanting him to remain here. Jemmie will have easy pickings, won’t he?”

“It will be the first easy money he ever made. Before we abandon the subject of Crites, why did you tell him Porson was Miss Sage?”

“I didn’t intend to do so. I set him to guard the crypt to keep him out of our hair once I had determined the brandy was in my warehouse. He really is the devil of a nuisance, you know. Knocking me out at the Eyrie! And always nagging about a stupid telescope that is of no use whatsoever at night in any case. I guess Mark didn’t realize there is an underground passage from the store to the warehouse. Makes you wonder whether Miss Marjoram hadn’t a hand in the shop at one time, doesn’t it? Mark is not so bright as Jem. Jem would have spied on me without being seen. It was Mark’s tenacious presence that told me where to look for your last load. I could hardly believe the gall!”

“I did give you a hint once, long ago.”

“So you did, but love is blind, you know, and that was the night I fell irrevocably in love with you. You practically accepted my offer before I was in a position to give it. I hotfooted it to London to wiggle out of my attachment with Lucy. Do you realize, Mab, that if anyone had happened to overhear this conversation we have been having, you and I would be hanging side by side at the crossroads, with our feet swaying in the wind?”

“Mmm,” I answered dreamily. “Do you realize that if we had not had it I would be hanging alone? I would much rather hang with you, Stamford.”

“Touching thought. I love you too. I wouldn’t dream of going to the scaffold without you. Bear it in mind, if you have any other tricks up your sleeve,” he cautioned. Then he arose and left.

Chapter Twenty-Six

There was a great clamor in the London papers, making much of the capture (and death) of Miss Sage. Her history and background being so vague, the reporters were free to write as much melodramatic fiction as they wished to entertain their readers. One enterprising fellow made her an illegitimate offspring of Miss Marjoram, another had her a French woman. The word “actress” did not arise. Sir Stamford was puffed up as a St. George and Duke of Wellington rolled into one, as a combined slayer of dragons and commander of outstanding ability. His whole war record was dredged up, telling me several items I did not know about his heroism, all of which he assured me were quite as inaccurate and exaggerated as the capture of Miss Sage. He had to go up to London to present his report, and stayed to perform as best man at the wedding of Lady Lucy. He wound my Aunt Harvey round his finger. She can hardly wait to have us to visit her in Devonshire. All this left me free to arrange matters with Ganner. He looked very sly and knowing when I assured him Wicklow would sign the papers for Miss Sage’s internment, corpse unseen.

“Does he know the truth?” he asked point-blank.

Miss Sage’s loyalties rapidly shifted sides. “What be doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” I parried.

“He didn’t strike me as a lad that would take anything for granted. Are you sure he won’t be ordering another exhumation order when he gets back?”

“I shall take care he is too busy to be thinking of that, Sir Elwood.”