Chapter Five #2
He observed the three of them from the corner of his eye while the conversation went on around his own table.
He had the impression that the silent Frenchmen were listening too, though what they could learn from the tale of Lieutenant Meade’s injury on the Peninsula several weeks ago, or the expected company at Lady Hawthorn’s party, was debateable.
He was, however, glad to hear that Meade was not the ladies’ escort, but someone merely encountered at the inn, who had got lost while making his own way to Hawthorn Court.
He also noted that the young officer’s eyes tended to stray more often to Lily than to Tabitha during lulls in the conversation.
Perhaps another man making sheep’s eyes at the ducal betrothed should not have pleased him.
It could certainly make things more messy in the future.
For now, he decided to concentrate on the more urgent matter of the smuggled Frenchmen who, when they did speak to each other, did so in such low voices that he could not even make out which language they were speaking, let alone what they said.
He was mulling over a few conversational gambits to draw them in when the oldest of the Frenchmen rose from his table and walked purposefully toward them.
He bowed. “Lady Sark.”
“Mr. Smith,” Tabitha returned graciously.
Smith? Seriously?
“Forgive my intrusion, but you may have gathered your name was familiar to me. I used to know a Lord Sark, many years ago. Althorpe was his Christian name.”
“My late husband.”
“Ah, I am very sorry to hear that. My condolences.”
“You are too kind.” Tabitha met the Frenchman’s gaze limpidly. “I am surprised you did not know. It was more than two years ago.”
“Alas, I have been abroad for many years. And the war has made British newspapers so difficult to acquire in Canada.”
“Canada,” Tabitha repeated.
“Indeed yes. I have lived there for more than twenty years. My son was born there.”
Jack decided to move things along. “How very interesting,” he murmured. “I had no idea that they made brandy in Canada.”
Mr. Smith cast him a quick glance, rather engagingly rueful.
“Hush, my friend, I am told the revenue men are everywhere. They do not make brandy in Canada, of course—or, at least, nothing you or I might recognize as such—and it would certainly make an unnecessarily long smuggling route from France to England. But consider the difficulties of His Majesty’s loyal subjects shipwrecked off Brittany.
There were limited routes home, and we were lucky enough to find one.
So who is the earl now? Althorpe’s son?”
Tabitha sipped her wine. “Althorpe was granted only daughters, of whom Lily here is the youngest. It is his nephew who inherited. Bramley’s son.”
“Ah, I see... Well, it has been very pleasant to speak to the wife of such an old friend. I do hope we meet again.”
“As do I,” Tabitha said cordially. “Perhaps we might hear more of your adventures.”
“I trust so.” Smith bowed to her and to the company in general and walked away to be met by Rains, lumbering through from the kitchen once more to show Smith’s party the way.
Jack ate another forkful of the stew.
“And they’ve gone the other way along the passage,” Tabitha murmured beside him, “to rooms at the front of the house. I suppose that is another reason why we are at the back.”
“You were never meant to see them,” Jack agreed, “let alone speak to them.”
“Or everything could just be about the brandy and an unfortunate shipwreck.”
“You believe Smith’s story?” Jack asked.
“I’m not sure I believe anything he says, though to be sure he does not sound remotely French.”
“Until you hear him speak in that language. He must have lived there many years.” He broke off, becoming belatedly aware that Lily and the lieutenant were watching them in astonishment, their eyes shifting from one to the other to follow the quick conversation.
He gave a diffident smile, forgetting his new role.
“Tabbie, do you and Mr. Johns know each other?” Lily demanded. “I mean, before this evening?”
“We met once upon a previous journey,” Tabitha said airily. She lowered her voice again. “And we discovered earlier this evening that we shared the same suspicions about this house.”
“So that is where you went,” Lily said.
“And the same suspicions about his lordship’s old friend there?” Meade asked.
“I can’t imagine Papa making a friend of a mere Mr. Smith who went to Canada,” Lily said frankly. “I think he made that up as an excuse to talk to you.”
“Yes, but why?” Tabitha wondered.
Lily laughed. “Oh, Tabbie, why do you think?”
“You mean he is pursuing my widow’s portion?”
“Not quite. I can see I am going to have to take you in hand at Lady Hawthorn’s. Do you go to Hawthorn Court, Mr. Johns?”
Jack blinked. “Oh, no. I am not acquainted with Lady Hawthorn.”
“I’m sure we could arrange that,” Tabitha drawled. “You seem to be just the sort of gentleman she would like to be acquainted with.”
Jack met the mocking gaze. “Why do I have the feeling that is not a compliment?”
Meade grinned. “I’m sure it is, you know. According to my mother and sisters, hostesses are always looking for eligible, unattached young gentlemen.”
“Sadly, I qualify on none of those grounds,” Jack said, “except youth, and time will take care of that. I am, in fact, expected elsewhere.”
Which was true enough, although it pierced his heart to see the gleam in Tabitha’s eyes fade. It was only for an instant, for she smiled as she pushed her untouched wine aside.
“Come, my love,” she said to Lily. “We must say goodnight.”
It was time, past time, that he told her the truth. And yet before Meade, he felt tongue tied. Instead, rising when she and Lily did, he murmured, “I have to follow Smith.”
“Of course you do. Do keep us informed.” She barely looked at him, merely bestowed a smile upon Meade. “We look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Lieutenant. Good night.”
She was walking away from him, and it was only right.
He had made promises that he would offer for Lily, if she did not dislike him.
The girl might even expect it. At any rate, it appeared to be his duty.
Lying to her, of course, was hardly a great start to their relationship.
In fact, his irresponsible adventure was threatening misery all round.
Or perhaps Tabitha had merely dismissed him from her thoughts. After all, she was a lady of sophistication and must have men in constant pursuit.
“Sir, are you well?” Meade broke into his thoughts.
Immediately, Jack smoothed his brow and produced a smile. “Oh, perfectly. Forgive me, I was wool gathering.”
Meade leaned forward. “About our friends?” He nodded toward the next table.
“Yes.”
“What exactly is the problem? Because he came via France?”
“In war time, smuggling has become more than a revenue problem,” Jack said. “If goods can come in and out unchecked, so can people.”
Meade stared at him with some respect. “Good God. I never thought of that.”
“I have read certain reports,” Jack said apologetically. Although he had never formally taken his seat in the House of Lords, the influence of his title and his guardians ensured he was kept dutifully informed.
“But the man sounds as English as you or I.”
“I have heard him speak French too, like a native. Hardly a crime, I grant you, but it does raise certain suspicions concerning his story.”
“He must surely report his arrival to the authorities... What do you intend to do?”
Jack almost fell off his chair in surprise.
Had anyone ever asked him his intentions before?
He was much more used to people telling him what to do, what was his duty, what best for his health, his family, his land, and his people.
Yet here was this soldier, not so very much older than Jack, perhaps, but with considerably more experience of the world, of commanding men in war, asking him.
.. And Meade didn’t even know he was the duke.
“Follow him and alert the authorities if I need to,” Jack said.
“Do you need company?” Meade asked seriously. “I am happy to help.”
Jack smiled. “I shan’t try and fight them. I know my limitations.”
“Not sure you do, old fellow.” Meade raised his glass to him. “I must admit, I never expected to run into such charming people when I stumbled across this place. I even locked my door before I fell asleep in case I was robbed.”
“You still might be, though I suspect Rains has enough on his plate right now. I’d lock your doors again, including cupboards.” Jack had read of thieves’ inns and rookeries full of secret passages and traps... And he hadn’t warned Tabitha.
He rose abruptly. “I should retire and be ready for an early start.”
Meade rose with him and held out his hand. “Pleasure to have made your acquaintance, sir. I hope we meet again.”
“So do I,” Jack said in surprise, gripping the offered hand before he went in search of someone to show him where to sleep.
Mrs. Rains did the honours somewhat ungraciously, leading him along dark and none too clean passages where cobwebs brushed his face.
He caught occasional glimpses of closed doors in the solitary candle flame, and then abruptly they were at the end of the passage with a door facing them, and one on either side.
If his sense of direction had not been addled by the winding corridors, they were at the back of the house. “Where are the ladies staying?” he asked on impulse.
He more than half expected her to bridle and tell him off, and to claim, however insincerely, the respectability of the house. In his experience over the last few weeks, innkeepers were extremely careful of their reputations.
Mrs. Rains merely cackled and jerked her head at the end door facing the length of the passage, while she opened the one on the right.
She walked in first and lit a solitary candle.
By its light, he could make out a narrow bed with his saddle bags dumped upon it.
The room smelled musty, as if it had not been slept in for years.
With a brisk nod that might have meant good night, Mrs. Rains departed, leaving him in almost total gloom.
Picking up the candle holder, he went in search of another.
At least the room was small, so there was not much to see except for a grubby washing bowl and a jug of cold water that might have sat there for a long time.
And a cupboard door in the wall that joined with Tabitha’s chamber. If he could believe Mrs. Rains.
Setting his candle down, he rummaged in his saddle bags.
Over the last few weeks, he had stayed in some odd places, and he had learned the comfort and the necessity of light—something he had never even considered in his over-privileged and sheltered life.
So, when he had bought his new provisions after the robbery, he had included a couple of candles.
He lit one of them from the inn candle, and leaving the bedside glow he took the other light to the un-shuttered window.
There were no curtains either and there was little to see outside beneath the dingy night sky.
He was completely cut off from anything that might be happening in the front inn yard. Were the Rainses merely smugglers of dubious character, or knowing traitors to their country?
Moving on from the window, he came to the cupboard.
It did not have a lock, or even a bolt. He opened it, and a cobweb dropping on his face startled him.
There was nothing inside the closet, but the wall was clearly much thinner here because he heard the murmur of female voices from beyond it.
It seemed the ladies were not yet asleep.
He felt again the urge to tell Tabitha the truth about himself. And Lily. Whether they cared or not, it was the right thing to do. And then, if this cupboard was mirrored on their side, and there was some kind of danger from it...
He stepped inside it, gently feeling his way around its walls. The voices were much clearer here.
“How odd,” Lily was saying sleepily, “that I should meet the lieutenant immediately after Ralph’s betrothal story. Do you think it is fate, Tabbie?”
“No, I don’t,” came Tabitha’s brisker tones.
She forgot to drawl sometimes, perhaps when she was genuinely interested.
He had won that privilege sometimes... “You will meet a great many personable young men before you need make any decision. You will most certainly not be marrying some death’s head on a stick—or even on two legs—so stop worrying about it and go to sleep. ”
Jack stepped back as though he had been stung, his hands falling limply to his sides.
Lily giggled. “Good night, Tab.”
“Good night, Lily.”