Helen Dickson (14 page)

Lucas looked at Walter and raised a cynical brow. ‘Peo
ple change,’ he said calmly. ‘I’ve spent two years, two years of hell, in a French prison, and now I’m back I want nothing more than to settle down at Roslyn Manor with my wife.’ His eyes softened. ‘And, looking at her now, Walter,’ he said, watching as the delightful creature threaded and skipped her way along a line of dancers, ‘who could blame me?’

Walter slapped his friend heartily on the shoulder, nodding his agreement. ‘No one, my dear chap. No one would blame you. Although you must have noticed that you have a great deal of competition—and ’tis little wonder. Your wife is an extremely popular, much sought-after young woman. Nicholas lost no time in claiming a dance, I see—and what a handsome pair they make,’ he remarked, chuckling softly. ‘My son had aspirations where Laura was concerned—and not all that long ago, either—but Carlyle beat him to it.’

Walter frowned suddenly, his expression grave as he thought of the owner of the Wheal Rose mine. ‘Don’t mind telling you I was uneasy about her marrying him—but it wasn’t my place to interfere. In the beginning I did caution her to be wary of his attentions, but she went ahead anyway. Thank God you came back when you did,’ he said quietly and with meaning that Lucas fully understood. ‘How are you progressing with the installation of the new engine at Stennack, by the way?’

‘It’s going rather well—better than I expected, in fact. I hope to have the mine up and running very soon.’

‘Glad to hear it—the sooner the better. It will be a godsend to many in these parts—turn their attention away from smuggling and poaching up on the moor. If a man doesn’t make his living from the sea or the land, the only employment hereabouts is to be found at the Wheal Rose mine, and Carlyle pays pitiable wages to his men, and has little regard for their safety.’

Lucas nodded. ‘I understand he’s sinking a new shaft—
which could prove disastrous when he starts blasting under the sea. With all those flooded southern reaches in Stennack above him, there’s every danger those thin walls will burst. I’ve sent Mark Tremain to see him on several occasions, equipped with maps as proof of the dangers, but he refuses to heed the warning.’

‘Then let’s hope he comes to his senses before it’s too late.’

As Lucas continued to watch his wife from the sidelines, coolly ignoring the flirtatious smiles and inviting glances from passing females, it took a physical effort for him to maintain his carefully bland expression when he saw her smile radiantly at her partner from across the square of a quadrille. His look became one of censorious displeasure when, in the order of the dance, young Ainsworth suddenly caught her, holding her closer than was seemly.

Glancing round the room, Lucas saw that, like him, the majority of males were watching Laura, their eyes appraising and acquisitive, and he realised grimly—and with more than a little regret—just how long he had been absent from her life, how sought-after she was and how much he had missed. Over the strains of the music he became aware that Walter had spoken. Detecting a note of anxiety in his voice, he looked at him apologetically.

‘I’m sorry, Walter, I was distracted for a moment. What were you saying?’

‘Since your return you might not have had time to acquaint yourself with what’s going on in and around Roslyn, Lucas. Speaking of Carlyle, there’s considerable talk that he’s one of the gentlemen—that he’s the leader of a well organised smuggling ring operating hereabouts. If it’s true—and I have every reason to believe it is—then it would explain his sudden affluence. He thinks that his various ingenious schemes he devises with those across the Channel for their mutual profit is a secret known only to themselves. But he is mistaken. I’ve known for some time
that contraband is being landed in Roslyn Cove, but those involved always manage to elude me.’

Lucas had so far been content to listen as he kept his eye on his wife, who had begun performing the intricate steps of a lively country dance with admirable agility and grace, but now he stirred and shoved himself away from the pillar, his eyes and ears alert to everything Walter was saying. His friend’s face was grim, and the tone of his voice indicated that he was a worried man. ‘I know. I’ve seen them.’

‘You have? Well—it can’t be as easy for them to continue using the cove with you about. Do you propose to do anything about it?’

Lucas shrugged. ‘What can I do that the excise men can’t—except forbid the smugglers to cross my land? They cannot reach the cove without doing so.’

‘The caves there are notoriously used for storing contraband. Have you not searched them?’ Walter asked.

‘I have, and there is evidence of the chambers being used,’ Lucas replied. ‘But the gentlemen are audacious and cunning. They are not such amateurs that they would leave contraband lying around for the excise men to find.’

‘Maybe not, but one cannot escape the fact that it’s a profitable business.’

‘It’s profitable so long as it lasts. These men are clever—particularly Carlyle, who’s as slippery as an eel and notorious for his ruthlessness—but even the cleverest smuggler makes a mistake, and then he is either arrested or dead.’

Walter looked at Lucas. The younger man’s expression was calm, but there was a hard, ominous, warlike gleam in his eye, and he spoke as if conveying a warning. Walter was suddenly uneasy without knowing the reason for it.

‘You’re right. Oh, I know smuggling is a way of life to the people living in this part of Cornwall, and I accept that—providing it doesn’t extend to violence. But Carlyle’s in a different category from the ordinary smuggler and a
damned nuisance. He’s made a lot of money—along with a bad name for himself—and a man doesn’t acquire a bad name without reason. In his blackguardly fashion he’s turned many a decent man in these parts into a criminal, terrorising ordinary citizens for miles. I’m a magistrate, and I don’t mind telling you the man’s made a fool out of me, Lucas.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘That I’ve got the excise men on my back. Since one of their men was found on the shore with the back of his head blown off a couple of months back, they’re desperate to break this particular ring, and it’s becoming damned tedious, I can tell you.’

Lucas frowned, nodding slowly. ‘I’ve heard about that. Bad business.’

‘The man’s name was Jed Watkins from Trethlyn. His brother works in the engine house at Wheal Rose. Rumour has it that he saw what happened, and that Carlyle was responsible, but he’s too afraid to come forward. I know what Carlyle’s doing—right under my nose at that. But you’re right. He’s clever—a professional. He moves quickly and with stealth, and he is extremely dangerous. I want proof of what he’s doing, but there isn’t a single man who will speak against him—and I can’t say that I blame them when one hears of the atrocities, of the mutilation he inflicts on informers before dispatching them. He has a slow and deadly way of dealing with those who fail him.’

‘Such atrocities cause only temporary revulsion in government circles. You must be aware that a number of excise men are in collusion with the smugglers, Walter, and also that the situation in France has brought the gentlemen their opportunity. Some are being used by the government for the purpose of obtaining information from the enemy—thus lessening their crime of smuggling. They even shunt spies backwards and forwards across the Channel, therefore enriching the gentlemen by unbelievable means.’

‘Then what is to be done? Are these criminals to be allowed to get off without harm or loss or penalty?’

‘Certainly a good majority of them will, but Carlyle will not be so fortunate. I promise you, Walter, that he will not get off scot-free. I, personally, will see to that.’

Lucas’s words hit Walter with shocking clarity. Edward Carlyle’s long-held hatred for Lucas was known to everyone who knew them, and was equalled by Lucas’s contempt for him. It was natural that Lucas should feel hatred and resentment towards Carlyle for almost making Laura his wife, but Walter sensed there was more to it than that, and that it was something deep and festering. The younger man stood still, rather like a marble statue, his eyes just as hard and ice-cold. Walter kept silent while he watched him. Lucas clenched his right hand into a fist twice, and Walter knew his friend was in a rare mood of controlled fury—and Lucas in a state of fury was a formidable opponent.

‘Is there something I should know, Lucas?’

Lucas gave him a hard look and nodded, his jaw rigid. ‘Carlyle has made some powerful enemies, both here and at Whitehall. I have long experience in ferreting out the truth, which is why I’ve been appointed to clean up the smuggling on this part of the coast—but this is just between ourselves, Walter, you understand?’

Walter nodded with a great deal of gravity, understanding perfectly.

‘I miss nothing,’ Lucas went on. ‘I am gathering evidence against Carlyle. If it exists I will find it. It is imperative that you and I talk. But not here—not tonight. I’ll ride over in a day or so and we will discuss the matter in private.’ He turned his attention on his wife and his expression relaxed. ‘But right now I can think of nothing I would like more than to dance with my wife.’

Walter nodded, following his gaze. ‘I can’t say that I blame you.’

A
s the evening wore on, and Lucas watched Laura laughing with her partners or soaking up the compliments they lavished on her, he noted that, while he found this kind of entertainment usually tedious, his wife thrived on it.

Just as she was about to disappear with Nicholas for another quadrille, without altering his expression Lucas reached out and firmly took her arm, drawing her to his side and sliding his arm around her trim waist, where it remained as he conversed with acquaintances. It was a casually possessive gesture, one which made Nicholas and every other male present realise that she was no longer open to offers. Lucas was determined to let everyone know that she was his rightful, legal wife, and that no man here tonight was going to usurp him. He amazed himself with the ancient passion of his own thoughts. But Laura was his now, and he would see to it that she remained so.

‘I think, my love, you’ve danced enough with young Ainsworth,’ he said when he saw her smile at him across the room. ‘One dance is in order, two quite unacceptable—three not to be borne. I have observed that you are very much in demand, which makes me realise just how long I have been away, and I am extremely displeased to find you
are on such intimate terms with all the gentlemen who have been besieging you all night.’

Tilting her head to one side, Laura looked up at him from beneath long, sooty lashes. She saw the coolness in his eyes, and with her clear understanding of her own feelings she understood his more easily. ‘Why, Lucas! Anyone hearing you would think you are jealous.’

He looked at her intently. ‘Should I be?’

‘Of Nicholas?’ She laughed. ‘Not now. Twelve months ago, maybe. He’s pledged himself to a lady by the name of Margaret Smeeton, who lives in Richmond.’

‘I know, and I am relieved to hear it. Are you aware that you haven’t danced with your husband all night?’

‘And is my husband aware that he hasn’t asked me?’ Laura teased gently. She saw him frown and forced a laugh. ‘I know there are people you haven’t seen in a long time. It’s natural that you have some catching up to do, and I haven’t felt neglected.’

‘Considering the number of partners you’ve had fawning over you, I should hope not,’ Lucas remarked with dry sarcasm. At that moment the orchestra struck up another tune, and he took Laura’s hand. ‘I think this is our dance,’ he announced, looking down into her amazed countenance. ‘I might have been out of action for longer than I care to remember, but I believe I can still dance as well as young Ainsworth and your other partners.’

Laura blushed at his gentle chiding. ‘I’m sure I won’t be disappointed, and that you dance better than most,’ she conceded as he brought her into his embrace and swept her into the dance in a dizzying whirl.

Laura wasn’t the least bit disappointed. She allowed him to draw her close, abandoning her waist to his encircling arm. It was as steady and firm as a rock. He was a superb dancer, moving with a sureness of step and a lithe, easy grace. Not one of her previous partners could compare. As he whirled her into the dance she seemed to soar with the
melody. It was as if they were one being, their movements perfectly in tune, and their bodies united.

She relaxed against his arm and met the force of his silver gaze. ‘Do I dance to your approval, milord?’

‘Aye, my love, but were we alone we would be dancing to a different tune.’

The heat of his stare lent the weight of truth to his words, catching Laura’s heart and bringing a warming hope that all would be well between them. His arm tightened about her waist, drawing her closer. ‘Perhaps you would care to discuss this further—in a more private place.’

‘Where do you suggest?’ she asked with a provocative smile.

‘Your bedroom would be as good a place as any. Does that meet with your approval? If not I shall have to find a way of luring you into mine.’

‘I think I approve of your first suggestion,’ she replied, and her eyes glowed as he squeezed her waist in warm communication. ‘You and I do have a future, then, Lucas?’

‘Have you ever doubted it?’

‘For a while—two years, to be exact—and what appeared to be a dismal future seems to have turned into something quite wonderful.’

True to her promise, with her hair brushed out and wearing a flowing wrapper of blue wool, Laura went to Caroline’s room. Her body tingled when she thought of the night to come that she would spend with Lucas. John had waylaid him in the hall to inform him that some mail had been delivered during their absence. He was expecting some important correspondence concerning the mine, so he had excused himself and disappeared into his study. Tapping on Caroline’s door, she popped her head round. ‘Am I disturbing you?’

Ready for bed and having just finished feeding Louis,
Caroline was placing the infant in his crib. She looked up and smiled. ‘No, not at all. Do come in.’

‘I thought I would come and say goodnight before I go to bed.’

‘That was kind of you. How did the party go? Did you enjoy it?’

‘Enormously. It’s a pity you were unable to go, but Lucas said it was for the best.’ Laura moved towards the crib and looked down at the sleeping child, pink-cheeked and replete. ‘He looks so content,’ she whispered.

‘He is,’ Caroline murmured, her eyes soft with so much love and pride for her son that Laura was deeply touched. ‘His father would have been so proud of him. He’s such a good baby. When he isn’t taking nourishment, he spends most of his time sleeping.’

‘Is there anything you want, anything I can get for you, before you settle down?’

‘No, thank you. Mrs Treneer has kindly taken care of everything. She suggested that I should have a nurse to care for Louis,’ Caroline said softly. ‘But I told her I prefer to care for him myself.’

‘I can understand that.’

‘Come and sit down a moment, Laura—if you would like to, that is.’

‘Of course I would. It’s late, I know, but I’m not tired,’ she replied, seating herself beside the fire.

Caroline sat across from her, tucking her legs beneath her and holding her hand out to the warmth. ‘It’s always so cosy at this time, don’t you think, with the curtains drawn against the night, and the room warm and secure against anything sinister that lurks outside? Daisy and I would often sit and chat by the fire in one of our rooms at this time—before Mama made us go to bed.’ Thinking of her sister and familiar things seemed to loosen Caroline’s tongue. ‘I wish to thank you for your kindness and understanding, Laura. It can’t be easy for you, having Louis and
me here, and I wish there was something I could do to lessen the burden.’

‘I do not consider having you and Louis a burden, Caroline. Please don’t think that.’

‘If you want to send me to my mother in London, I shall understand.’

‘We wouldn’t dream of it.’

‘But—the implications—I’d hate to think I was putting you in danger.’

‘We’re prepared to take the risk,’ Laura said, smiling softly. ‘It’s for your own safety that you remain at Roslyn, you know that. Do not misunderstand Lucas. His sole object is to protect you from anything that is disagreeable.’

‘I know. I am well aware of the threat Anton’s cousin poses to Louis. Lucas didn’t spare me when he told me what was truly at stake. I only met Jean once. He was an intellectual, whose head was full of great revolutionary ideas. I took him to be a surly, vicious man, deeply resentful of Anton, and in close league with those who were in favour of a new republic. I couldn’t bear it if anything should happen to Louis—and I am so afraid that Jean will find us. Lucas says he will keep us safe until the time comes for us to go back to France. But I don’t want to go back. Ever. France is a hateful country. I loathe it.’

Laura calmly observed the young woman opposite. Caroline’s spirits were clearly at a low. She was sad, and must be feeling very much afraid and alone. Laura felt a curious sympathy for this unhappy woman, who must be finding the harsh reality of her predicament painful. Putting all uncharitable thoughts from her mind, she said, ‘You might not have to go back just yet. It could take years for France to settle down.’

‘Yes, you are right.’ She made an uncertain, resigned gesture with her hands. ‘But I know I am being foolish. Of course Louis, as the Comte de Mournier, must return to
claim his inheritance. When the time comes we must go back.’

‘Why did you marry Anton, Caroline, if, as you told me, you didn’t love him?’

There was a shadow in the candid dark eyes that looked across at Laura. ‘Would you believe me if I was to tell you it was to escape Mama’s dominance? In my foolishness and ignorance, I thought the English Channel would be an adequate distance between us.’ When Laura stared at her, clearly horrified by this confession, her lips curved in a wry smile.

‘You must remember what Mama was like. Society and its trappings meant everything to her. Where marriage was concerned, she would only consider the very best for her splendid pair of daughters, she would say—aristocrats, no less. How tired I got of hearing it. Our feelings counted for nothing. Daisy and I were to be bartered while we were still malleable, to exchange one guardianship for another and submit happily. Poor Daisy. I wonder how she fares, and if Mama has found her a husband yet—eminently suitable, of course,’ she remarked, not without bitterness.

Laura had seldom been in the company of Caroline’s mother—a widow whose late husband, Sir Joshua Weston, a man connected to the Admiralty, had left her fabulously wealthy—but she had heard such formidable accounts of the great lady, and her manner of dealing with others, that had frightened her.

Her air was not accommodating, and her manner to those beneath her was such as not to let them forget their inferior rank. Full of self-importance, she always spoke in authoritative tones, delivering her opinions on every topic in such a decisive manner that none would dare voice argument.

Wealth and rank were paramount to her, and she had been determined that only the most eligible of England’s bachelors would vie for her daughters’ hands. Laura had reason to doubt that this grand lady would have considered
Lucas a suitable candidate following his disgraceful abduction of her precious Caroline. He would have been whisked away as all the other unworthy suitors had been.

‘In her excessive enthusiasm to climb to the very top of society, there was something quite terrible about Mama at times,’ Caroline went on quietly, a sad, brooding look in her eyes as she gazed absently into the fire’s flaming depths, ‘not only terrible but merciless, self-destructive, something that could eventually destroy herself, as well as Daisy and me. That was why I eloped with Anton and went to live in France—even though Mama despised all Frenchmen.’

Laura stared at her in astonishment, for she had no knowledge of any elopement. ‘You and Anton eloped?’ she asked when she had recovered from the shock of Caroline’s announcement.

‘Yes. Didn’t you know? I wrote to Mama explaining everything, and she replied telling me she would never forgive me for what I’d done, and did not want to see me ever again.’

‘Why does your mother dislike the French so much?’

‘Because Papa was killed when the ship he was commanding during the war with America back in ’80—when France had joined the war on the side of America—was attacked and captured by a French vessel. Ever since, Mama has nursed a hatred of the French, and refused to even consider any man of that country—not even King Louis himself—as a suitor for either of her precious daughters,’ she explained. Suddenly her expression became wistful. ‘The trouble was that, by marrying Anton, I jumped straight out of the pan into the fire.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Anton’s mother,’ Caroline said pointedly, as if this explained everything.

‘Why, what was she like?’

‘Stout, thick legs, large bosom…’ She laughed. ‘I
thought my own mother was bad enough, but Anton’s mother was equally bad, if not worse. As soon as I entered the chateau my role became a purely decorative and useless one. Anton was completely under her thumb and followed at her heels like a well-trained dog. Oh, she was always polite—but that was all. She scarcely spoke to me unless it was to make some commonplace remark, to rebuke me for some misdemeanour or to ask after my health—a male heir was permanently on her mind, you understand.

‘Everyone—even the servants—showed little inclination to treat me as the mistress of the house, and I always felt that I was there on sufferance. There was no one to understand me. No one tried—only my maid, Lucille, of whom I became extremely fond.’

It was evident to Laura that in her desperation to rid herself of her mother’s dominance, by marrying Anton Caroline had fallen victim to her own foolishness. However, Laura was unable to remain indifferent to her suffering, and she looked compassionately into the pensive face opposite. ‘What happened to Anton’s mother? Do you know?’

She nodded, and when she spoke her voice was strained. ‘She was taken when the mob stormed the chateau. She—went to the guillotine the day after Anton…Lucille, and all those devoted to the family, too. I was particularly saddened when I was told Lucille’s fate. She was only sixteen.’

They talked on and finally Laura rose to go.

Caroline smiled at her. ‘Thank you for coming. It was good to talk to someone about what it was like for me in France. Stay a while longer if you like. I’m not tired.’

‘You may not be, but I’m afraid that I am. Please don’t get up. I’ll let myself out.’

Caroline ignored her and went with her to the door. ‘Laura, wait. There is something I want to ask you.’

‘Ask away.’

‘I—I can’t help noticing that things between you and Lucas seem strained.’

Caroline’s words put Laura completely off-balance. It was impertinent for Caroline to even refer to something so personal, but she wasn’t offended and saw no reason not to answer. ‘Things haven’t been going too well of late,’ she confessed.

‘I—wouldn’t have mentioned it, only…well…I should hate to think it has something to do with my presence at Roslyn.’

Laura sighed and shook her head. ‘No. I can assure you that it has nothing to do with you, Caroline. But please don’t concern yourself. I’m sure things will work themselves out.’