Moon Cutters (7 page)

‘Murdoch Barnstable. Your uncle employed him three months ago as second coachman, and he sometimes rides with him as a sort of bodyguard. I’ve heard that he’s good with his fists.’

Fletcher acknowledged his uncle’s presence with a lift of his hand, and the telescope was slipped into the man’s pocket. It would do as a start.

Eventually, someone began to sing in a deep voice.
‘Rock of ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee.’

The rest of the mourners waded in with great gusto.
‘Let the water and the blood, from thy wounded side that flowed.’

Fletcher joined in the singing.
‘Be of sin the double cure, save from wrath and make me pure.’

Tom snorted loudly. ‘Silas will come back and haunt you if he hears that.’ He began to bawl out a sea shanty from the top of his voice.
‘Come all ye young fellows that follow the sea, and pray pay attention and listen to me to me …’

‘Blow, blow, blow the man down,’
everyone roared.

Even the crew of the revenue cutter joined in, throwing another hymn into the ring as her crew hauled in her anchor and she flirted her tail as she turned in the wind. Soon the words flowed back and forth between sea and shore, with no rhyme or reason.

Somebody cursed. Words were changed. Another threw a punch.

The leaking dingy, fuelled by the body of Silas, was a roaring ball of crackling flame. It was a fierce fire.

‘He’s going up like a hog on a spit,’ Tom said, fifteen minutes later.

‘Time to go back before the brandy disappears, gentlemen, so let’s leave him to it. Besides, we’re missing a good brawl going on ashore.’

The
Wild Rose
lifted anchor and made for her mooring, her crew eager to enjoy the fun.

Fletcher was halfway up the path when he heard a hiss. He turned in time to see the funeral pyre carrying the charcoaled remains of Silas Asher disappear beneath the water. For a few seconds, he saw a flame burning under the surface, and then it was extinguished.

The revenue cutter was hauling sail. Soon it would head for its berth at Poole. There would be no business done in this part of the coast tonight; everyone would be at Silas’s wake.

There came a sudden shout from the cutter, and those on shore ducked when the crew raised their rifles and a rattling fusillade of gunfire filled the air.

Instinct made both men drop to the ground.

‘Bloody varmints,’ Tom said, sounding embarrassed as he rose, brushing the chalky dust from his jerkin.

Fletcher sprang to his feet and laughed. ‘You’ve got to admit the man has a grim sense of humour. Silas would have liked that touch.’

‘He would that.’

When they reached the cliff top, Fletcher’s glance wandered over the crowd to where he’d last seen his uncle. Damn, he’d just missed him, he thought, watching the rear end of his uncle’s horse disappear into the gloaming.

James had to admit that Fletcher had put on a good show with Silas’s funeral. He’d been tempted to stay longer, but approaching his nephew was out of the question now.

Fletcher knew how much he’d wanted Monksfoot Abbey, and James intended to teach Fletcher a lesson, in more ways than one.

He stabled his horse and poured himself a brandy, his temper still too uncertain to trust. He had guests coming for dinner – Bailey and his widowed sister, Sarah, plus his legal representative and his wife.

Then there were the two Jarvis children, who were now recovered completely from their misadventure. He’d decided to give the pair an airing, see how they acted in a social situation.

‘Are the children suitably attired for a social dinner, Mrs Pridie?’

‘As to that, we’ve managed to alter a gown or two for them, but the older one prefers her own clothes. She’s determined not to be beholden to you.’

‘That’s her pride speaking. I won’t have her wearing those rags to dinner. Tell her she must change into the suitable clothes that have been provided for her, else I’ll assist her to.’ He gave an indulgent smile. ‘Young Lucy has asked me if she can play the piano and sing for our entertainment.’

‘I hope you’re not getting too attached to those youngsters, sir.’

‘Why not, pray? They liven the place up and amuse me no end. Lucy is as lively as a flea, and the too-dignified Miss Jarvis beat me at chess the last time we played – and had the bad manners to crow about it. Miranda is quick-witted and clever. She seems to have gathered a lot of knowledge in her short life.’

‘May I ask what is to happen to them in the future?’

James
had
allowed himself to become attached to the sisters. He hadn’t had female company in the house for a long time and found them a distraction from the seriousness of his business life. He’d considered the various options open to them and hadn’t liked any of them.

‘It’s possible that I’ll make them my wards, furnish them with a dowry and find them suitable husbands when they turn sixteen – which can’t be that far off. It will give me a purpose in life. I often notice something gracious and womanly about the elder girl; she’s mature beyond her years. Sometimes she seems more woman than child.’

‘But, sir—’

‘Enough, Pridie. I’m a man and I know exactly what I’m about where women are concerned.’

Pridie grinned. ‘Do you, indeed, Sir James … I often wonder if you see beyond the end of your nose.’

Filled with fatherly feelings towards the youngsters he’d rescued, he said, ‘Go about your business now.’

‘No!’ Miranda said, knowing full well that if she wore the blue brocade gown Mrs Pridie offered, she would no longer be able to disguise herself as a child and they would be sent packing.

Lucy had no such scruples. Her spots had now faded to little more than a trace, and she danced across the room with a wide smile on her face in an ankle-length swirl of pink chiffon over satin. She wore a big bow in her hair with flowing ribbons dotted with little silk rosebuds.

Mrs Pridie sighed. ‘The master is not in the best of moods, luvvy. Take my advice. It would not be wise to put your head in that particular lion’s mouth tonight.’

‘Then I won’t go down at all. Tell Sir James I’m unwell.’

‘He won’t believe it when you displayed no evidence of it earlier.’

‘He’ll have to, because he wouldn’t drag me down the stairs by my ears.’

Pridie’s lips pursed. ‘I wouldn’t be too sure of that, young lady. On your own head be it, then.’

Miranda didn’t want to spoil Lucy’s enjoyment. ‘Take Lucy down with you, Pridie. She can tell me all about it when she comes up to bed. Be on your best behaviour, Lucy. Don’t forget your manners.’

Advice she should have given herself, she realized, when a few minutes later the door opened and slammed back against the wall.

Dropping the book she’d just started, Miranda jumped up from the chair and stammered as she backed towards the bed, ‘What … do you think you’re doing?’

He came to stand in front of her, a solidly handsome figure gazing down at her through eyes that glowed like fiery coals. ‘In this house, I give the orders and you obey them.’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘That’s a lie, since you missed lunch. I expect you to put on the clothing I provided you with, and come down to dinner like any other civilized young woman.’

A quiver of nervousness crept into her voice. ‘I prefer my own clothes.’

‘Do you … do you indeed?’ Reaching out, he grasped her ragged dress in both fists and split it asunder.

His eyes widened in surprise as his glance ran over her exposed body, which she tried to cover with her hands.

He drew them aside, and she closed her eyes and drew in an agonized breath, almost paralyzed by shock, when his hands gently cupped her breasts, before sliding lightly down over her belly to flatten against the dark thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs.

‘Don’t do that,’ she pleaded, her voice low with the shame of being handled, and she found the courage to push his hand away.

His breath expelled with some force, ‘My God, you’re a grown woman … and an exquisitely formed one at that. How the hell did I miss it? You’ve been lying to me all along, missy. How old are you?’

‘I’ll be nineteen next month.’ Face flushing, she jerked the torn edges of her clothing together and turned her back on him. ‘I never suggested I was anything different from what I am. Go away; you’ve shamed me.’

The heat from his body lessened, and the tension between them cooled. He stepped back, created some space between them, but something had changed in him because his eyes held the knowledge of her nakedness.

‘Why didn’t you enlighten me on the numerous occasions I referred to you as a child? Why didn’t you tell me, Miranda?’

She shrugged. ‘I thought you might turn us out, and Lucy desperately needed help. I intended to tell you when we had our meeting.’

‘Which meeting was that?’

‘The one where you said you wanted to know everything about us.’

‘Ah … that meeting. I’ve been a bit busy of late, and it had slipped my mind. In view of what’s happened, we shall schedule that meeting for eleven o’clock tomorrow morning in my study.’

His footsteps echoed across the floor and he opened the door. ‘Now your charade has been
exposed
, there is no more need for subterfuge, is there? Nobody will learn from me of what happened here this evening. I’ll send Pridie up to help you dress. If you want to be silly and wear the remnants of your own clothing for the occasion, go ahead, but I’ll be disappointed if you do. I will expect you in half an hour at the latest. Is that clear, Miss Jarvis?’

‘Perfectly, Sir James,’ she said, wishing she’d listened to Mrs Pridie in the first place.

The door was almost shut when he opened it again. Gruffly, he said, ‘You took me completely by surprise and have nothing to feel shamed about, girl. That particular honour goes to me on this occasion.’

The gown was slightly old-fashioned, its skirt flaring out over a stiff petticoat and decorated with a pretty lace trim, but it suited her. Anna arranged Miranda’s hair into a topknot, decorating it with a posy of silk flowers. Heated tongs were used to create ringlets at either side of her face.

‘There, don’t you look lovely?’ Mrs Pridie said, turning her towards the long oval mirror. ‘Sir James was right taken aback … that he was. And serve him right for seeing only what he wanted to. I tried to tell him before, but no, he wouldn’t listen.’

A stranger looked back at Miranda, and she was made immediately aware that her parents would never have been able to afford a gown like this for her.

The bodice hugged her waist, stomach and ribs, and had enough stretch in it to allow her to breathe, but not to slouch. She remembered laughing with her mother over an advertisement for one in the
Ladies Journal
– seven shillings for a waist no more than eighteen inches in circumference and sixpence per inch extra for larger ladies.

That had been before her father’s accident, when her mother’s expanding waistline was becoming noticeable. They’d been looking forward to having a new baby in the house. How swiftly everything had changed.

The young man’s portrait on the wall was reflected in the mirror, too, standing just behind her shoulder as if they were a couple. They looked so realistic together that she nearly returned his wry smile.

She ran downstairs when the clock struck half past the hour, in case Sir James took it into his head to fetch her himself. Taking a deep breath, she opened the drawing-room door.

It seemed to Miranda that every eye was upon her when she entered the room.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the younger image of Fletcher Taunt that still lingered on in her mind. It was hard to do when Sir James approached her with his similar, older face. His eyes expressed both approval of her appearance and an apology. ‘You look delightful, my dear.’ Placing his hand under her elbow, he led her towards the guests. ‘May I introduce Simon Bailey and his sister, Sarah Tibbets. Simon represents the customs revenue service in the district.’ He turned to the older couple. ‘And this is my legal representative, Andrew Patterson, and his wife, Mary. Miss Miranda Jarvis. You’ve already met her younger sister, Lucinda.’

‘A delightful young lady,’ Andrew Patterson said, sending Lucy a smile. ‘I believe Miss Lucinda is going to entertain us after dinner. I’m looking forward to it.’

Seated on the sofa, Lucy looked shy and self-conscious in her finery, and in the company of so many adults. Both of them wore black armbands to signify their bereavement, for they had no mourning garments. ‘Two pretty butterflies should not be covered in ugly black, and wearing only an armband will not cause any disrespect to your mother,’ Sir James had said.

Both couples scrutinized Miranda without seeming to. Their glances flitted from her dress to her hair, and to places in between, like curious birds. In the case of the men, they lingered on her breasts, their eyes vaguely predatory. The women’s gazes were more critical and somewhat speculative, as though they were wondering what sort of relationship she had with Sir James.

Sarah Tibbets’s smile faded when she looked at Sir James. ‘I thought you said they were both children, James.’

He gave her an easy smile. ‘At my age it becomes harder and harder to differentiate. Girls seem to change into women overnight.’

‘The younger, the better – aye, Sir James?’ Andrew Patterson said with chuckle.

Miranda blushed, remembering her host’s hands on her exposed flesh.

‘Not a subject fit for the drawing room, Andrew,’ Sir James said firmly, and he held out his arm for her to take. ‘Shall we go in to dinner? We’ve already kept the cook waiting for twenty minutes.’

To which Miranda replied, seeing an opening for her to hit back at him, ‘It was entirely my fault, Sir James. I couldn’t decide between the suitability of two gowns. Then I discovered a huge tear in one and was forced to change into the other. I apologize most profoundly for keeping everyone waiting.’

His eyes narrowed in on her. ‘Apology accepted.’ He beckoned to Lucy, who took his other arm. ‘You look pretty tonight, Miss Lucy. You’ll sit on my left hand and Miss Jarvis on my right. Promise me you won’t grow up as unexpectedly as your sister did?’