The Cornish Heiress (26 page)

“Well, was it?” Monsieur Fresnoy was slightly annoyed. Did
this officious young man think he was going to get a medal for reporting that a
boat anchored for the night in a cove outside of Boulogne?

“Er—no, it was not. I am sorry to make such a long story. I
was only afraid that to someone accustomed to fishermen and other such harmless
activities my suspicion would seem ridiculous. Sober, I would not have thought
of it myself, but drunk as I was I became sure it was smugglers.”

“One boat? Or do you mean a ship?” Landsmen, Fresnoy
thought, seemed to believe the two words were synonymous.

Philip smiled shamefacedly. “One very little boat. Silly,
was it not?” Then he frowned. “But what I found was not silly. I know the First
Consul banned all imports of English goods and, more especially, those
luxurious items that are of no benefit to the country. Why should a silly woman
wear Indian muslin when she could wear French silk? The First Consul is
perfectly right. The silk is even more handsome.”

“Yes, but what has this to do—oh, I see. You
found
Indian
muslin?”

“Yes, and other things. What worried me this morning, when I
was no longer drunk, was the—the smallness of the shipment and the—the openness
of the man’s behavior. That was why I came here instead of going to the Customs
director, whom I know to be in Boulogne. My cousin in Brittany has a friend who
not long ago used to trade in Boulogne, and he spoke of you as a very honest
man. I do not wish to make trouble for anyone, which is what would happen if I
went back to Paris and reported what I have seen. So I came to you.”

“But why? I have nothing to do with Customs. In fact, I
think our Customs men are honest. I do not say there may not be one who has
stepped off the straight path, but in general—and I am sure the director…“

“It would be a very foolish thing for the director of the
district to endanger his position and reputation for a few bolts of cloth and a
few boxes of feathers. However, to speak plainly, such a man does not like to
be told his business by—by a nobody like me. Moreover, it will not be pleasant
for him to need to begin an investigation of his personnel.”

“And if I accompany you he will be forced to do so, eh?”
Monsieur Fresnoy said wryly. “Does it occur to you that he will not love me for
this either?”

“Oh, no, sir,” Philip hastened to assure him. “He will blame
that on me. I will tell him just what I have done. Moreover, he will know you
could not refuse me.”

Monsieur Fresnoy’s eyes narrowed. “I do not see how this can
benefit you, then, since you will still gain Monsieur le Directeur’s
animosity.”

“No, I will not,” Philip assured him earnestly, “at least
not if he is an honest man. Oh, he may be angry at first, but as soon as he
begins to think the matter over he will think differently. After all, I am sure
he does not want a corrupt officer in his brigade. Second, since you know of
this problem and I am
sure
he will investigate, there will be no need
for me to report anything to any office. As I said, I do not wish to report
this. You know and I know that this may have nothing to do with any Customs
officer. There are so many coves and little empty beaches. The whole Grand Army
could not patrol every one. But the office of the Director General will assume
inefficiency…”

There was a brief pause after Philip’s voice died away.
Monsieur Fresnoy looked at his earnest, anxious expression and smiled. “You are
a very clever young man, and thoughtful and patriotic too. Yes, indeed, I will
go with you.”

Philip dropped his eyes and looked modest while he murmured
his thanks. He did not smile, for he was still only at the beginning of his
path, and he certainly did not want the harbor master to guess how comical it
was that they should be in perfect agreement. He, too, thought he had been
clever and patriotic.

It happened that the director of the Customs office was in
and was willing to see the harbor master immediately. Philip was grateful. This
was the only part of the operation that was really risky, and he was glad he
would have no time to get nervous and do or say something silly. He had no idea
whether this bureau chief happened recently to have been in Paris or whether
there was some department rule a high official would know that precluded the
role Philip was playing. In addition, if the man was suspicious and wanted
identification, Philip had no idea whether his forged papers would pass the
inspection of someone who knew what the papers should be. Until now everyone
had accepted him on the wealthy Brittany farmer’s word. The harbor master’s
clerk had looked at Philip’s papers, but only cursorily, and there was no reason
why he should be able to tell forged papers from genuine ones.

Monsieur Fresnoy was a clever man and, for his own sake as
well as Philip’s, started the conversation with a large dollop of butter.
Instead of repeating Philip’s suspicions of complicity in smuggling, he
explained that this young clerk of the Customs, Philippe Saintaire, was most
sensibly in awe of his own superior and sought the intervention of someone with
authority outside of his own service to introduce him. Then he went on to
describe what Philip had seen in the cove. The reaction was more violent than
Philip or Monsieur Fresnoy expected. The director turned brick red and snarled.

“Can you find the place again? Do you have proof?” Monsieur
Fresnoy stiffened imperceptibly. How could he have forgotten to ask those
questions himself? A single glance at Philip reassured him that he had not been
wrong in his judgment of Philip’s character.

“Yes, sir, to both,” Philip replied promptly. “As to proof,
of course, I could not be sure that the goods would remain where I found them
until I could get to see you. Frankly, sir, I was afraid to seek out anyone in
authority last night. Monsieur Fresnoy has been most kind, but I confessed to
him I had—er—been making a little merry and was not completely myself.”

“Then you are
not
sure, really.”

“Oh, yes, I am sure. I was not—ah—so merry as that. In fact,
what I found shocked me so much… Well, I could not carry it all, but I brought
what I could back to my room at the inn. I was afraid to carry such stuffs around
with me, but if you would send an officer with me—”

“Yes, very wise.”

The director jangled a bell and a clerk came in to receive
the order. Monsieur Fresnoy rose, saying he imagined he was no longer needed.
Philip hastily got up also and took his hand.

“I cannot thank you enough, sir,” he said. “If you would
permit me to call at your house express my gratitude—if I am not too bold.”

“Not at all,” the harbor master replied, thinking to himself
that this was a most polite and proper young man. You have no engagement this
evening?”

“No, sir unless—” Philip turned to look at the director, who
waved a negation at him. Philip then smiled at the harbor master and bowed.
“Then this evening—at what time?”

Monsieur Fresnoy looked at the dark, handsome face, remembered
Philip’s implication with regard to what he had been doing the previous night.
Clearly this was a correctly brought up young man, who understood the
amenities. One worked off one’s lust on the class of women who did such things;
one did not seduce one’s equal’s (or superior’s) daughters. He named a time,
said a polite farewell to the director and went away thinking that Philip might
be an amusing companion for Désirée.

The rest of the morning and the early part of the afternoon
were too busy to permit Philip time for thought. It took all his concentration
to remain in character, not to seem to know too much or too little, to seem
interested enough in the problem of who was doing the smuggling. This last,
naturally enough, was scarcely a subject on which Philip desired that the truth
be uncovered. However, he soon realized he was not the first to bring
information that English goods were being smuggled into this area.

At first Philip could hardly believe his good luck, but when
he was finally dismissed with a commendation he realized that it was the most
natural thing in the world. Boulogne was full of men becoming wealthy from the
huge shipbuilding contracts, plus naval and army officers who were training the
men who would sail the invading fleet and take part in the proposed invasion.
These contractors and officers had been here for months and could expect to
remain for months longer. Doubtless their wives had come to stay with them.
There would surely be social affairs to mark the economic rejuvenation and to
relieve the tedium of camp life. The women would need constant additions to and
refurbishments of their wardrobes, since each group moved in a closed social
circle in which one saw the same people over and over. There would also be the
subtle striving among the women that always existed in closed social circles,
the desire to lead the pack in fashion and elegance. This was the perfect
situation for a market in forbidden trifles.

What a fool he had been, Philip thought. He should have
known that Pierre would not have suggested his taking along some of the goods
unless smuggling was likely. On the other hand, to Pierre, smuggling was likely
anywhere. He seemed to think it was the natural condition of man. Well, perhaps
he was right. Philip lay back on his bed and finally allowed himself to laugh
heartily. What a tale he would have for his father and Leonie—and for Meg. It
had worked so well!

The harbor master had been too interested in his story to
check his credentials, and after all, it was not his business. But the way he
had introduced him to the Director of Customs had certainly given the
impression, that Monsieur Fresnoy knew the man he was introducing. He had even
managed to surmount a last, unexpected danger when the director had offered to
write to his superior to commend him for his alertness and devotion to duty
even on vacation.

Philip had gasped with shock—and had barely managed to
change that to an indrawn breath of amazement at the director’s generosity.
Surely it would be too much trouble, he had said politely, envisioning the hunt
for him that would begin as soon as the director was informed that no such man
was employed in the
service de bureau
.

“Not at all,” the director insisted, a little surprised, for
it seemed a bit odd that so clever a young man should not wish to capitalize on
his achievement.

Fortunately, by that time Philip had caught his breath and
had a moment to think. He lowered his eyes and bowed. “Since you are so kind,”
he murmured, “could you do me the infinite favor of—of giving the letter into
my own hand. I—I am new in the office, you see, and my name might be
meaningless. Letters can get lost…“ Philip allowed his voice to drift away.

The implications were plain. This clever young man had been
too clever, perhaps, and annoyed his fellow workers or offended his superior.
Or, simply, he was clever enough to wish to carry a commendation personally to
someone higher up than his own superior. Well, why not? Ambition and cleverness
should be rewarded. The director nodded and smiled.

“Very well, come tomorrow afternoon. My clerk will have the
letter for you.”

Philip confounded himself in thanks and bowed himself out,
remembering not to sigh with relief or wipe his brow until he was well away
from the director’s office. That had been a narrow squeak and, really, it was
not yet over. In well-meaning innocence the director might still write to
someone in Paris to commend him, thinking that such an action would serve to
confirm the letter he would carry.

It would behoove him, Philip thought, sitting upright, to
move as quickly as possible to get his information. There was no time to spend
courting the harbor master’s daughter. He would have to use more direct
methods. However, he found that he was not to have any choice about meeting Mademoiselle
Fresnoy. He had hoped to be shown into the harbor master’s study, where they
could talk in privacy and he could be politely indifferent if the daughter
invaded her father’s sanctum, as Pierre said was her custom. Instead he found
himself shown into the parlor and introduced to Mademoiselle Désirée.

Philip did what he could. He first thanked the harbor master
most sincerely—he was quite genuinely grateful to the man and hoped Monsieur
Fresnoy would not get into trouble if the truth were later discovered. Then he
mentioned the letter of commendation and, using that as a wedge, inserted the
information that he did not expect be in Boulogne longer than a week. All the
time he had been speaking, he had been aware of occasional, but very intense,
glances from Mademoiselle Désirée. It was an odd sensation, like little
flickers of heat that touched him. Yet he could not catch her looking at him
even once. Each time he turned politely toward her to include her in the
general, impersonal remarks he was making, her eyes were demurely lowered,
fixed on some small piece of needlework she held in her lap.

It was when he began the next stage of his attack, which was
to regret that he probably could not obtain permission to get into the port
facilities and dockyards, that her eyes first met his. The brief flashing
glance gave him a shock. It was avid and at the same time calculating, but so
swiftly veiled that Philip could hardly believe the demure face he saw held
those eyes.

“But why not, m’sieu?” Désirée asked.

“Alas I have no official reason to be there, and I must
assume they are closed to the merely curious, since the work is for the war—”

“Naturally we cannot have a stream of visitors who would
impede the work,” Monsieur Fresnoy said.

“Oh, I would keep out of the way and, truly, I am so ignorant
about ships that I would not know what questions to ask nor would answers do me
much good. I suppose the desire is foolish, but… All day I work with reports of
ships and tonnage and the names of far places.” Philip sighed. “It is all words
on paper. I had hoped to see how ships are built and to see how they are
launched. It would make it all real to me. Ah well, I suppose I should have got
permission in Paris…“