Chapter 3
Robin approached the cottage, accepting the greetings of another six children as they departed.
It had been no easy task to persuade parents to allow their children to miss four hours of a perfectly good working day to learn the essentials of reading, writing and arithmetic.
But Justin was a determined man and one with a gift of persuasion.
And yet Robin couldn’t help but think that, despite the worthiness of this cause, Justin’s talents might better be used in more elevated society.
He paused at the threshold and took in the single room dominated by two tables and a dozen or so mismatched chairs. Inside was his friend, methodically putting away books on a small bookcase.
The scent of chalk and lamp oil lingered in the room, mingling with the faint smoky smell of the hearth Justin had lit earlier against the chill.
“If you’re going to stand there, then you might as well as make yourself useful by rearranging the furniture,” Justin called out to him.
Robin walked in to move the chairs, along with the table, to return the room to its primary function of combined parlor and dining room.
“The invitations have gone out for Penelope and Peter’s house party,” said Robin conversationally.
“I’m sure you’ll all have a wonderful time,” Justin answered.
“Felicity has been invited, too.”
Justin halted, then deliberately put down the chair and glowered at him.
Robin put up his hands.
“Nothing to do with me, it’s all Penelope’s doing, but I thought you might appreciate knowing in advance.”
Justin shrugged before going over to a bookcase to retrieve a bottle from a high shelf—well out of the way of the children who came to receive their education.
“There’s another guest on the list I thought you might want to know about… and this one I did try to dissuade Penny from inviting… Victor Grant.”
Robin watched the look of displeasure cross his friend’s face. He chuckled, because he was pretty sure he had worn the same expression when he saw the list.
“That man is trouble,” said Justin.
“And you and I both know it. Sadly, no one else does.”
“Will he come, do you think?” Justin’s voice sounded hopeful, but both men knew the truth. Yes, Victor would be there—especially if Felicity was in attendance.
Justin sighed, knowing the answer to his own question.
Robin felt sympathy for his friend. He knew how much the man loved Felicity, and how much of a bright future they would have together if he wasn’t so bloody prideful.
While not exactly a pauper, Justin certainly didn’t have the means to make an offer for someone of Felicity’s station—even if her own heart was secure.
Robin examined the glass of spirits that had been placed before him and waited for Justin to finish pottering about and join him. The two of them had received their commissions on the same day and received the same commendations and promotions along the way.
And it was only because of the Somerville name that Robin was promoted to captain ahead of his friend.
The man was his equal in every way. If the war with Napoleon hadn’t come to an end when it did, there was no doubt in Robin’s mind that Justin would have been awarded command of his own ship and made his own fortune. But that wasn’t to be.
Justin sat down heavily on a chair opposite.
“You didn’t come all this way to tell me news I couldn’t possibly care about.”
“No, not entirely. It’s a new moon three weeks from now. I think Captain Moonlight and his gang need to make another appearance.”
Justin took a sip from his glass, and raised an eyebrow in mute enquiry.
“There is an Excise man by the name of Jimmy Hall who is overcharging on the taxes, but more than that, he is confiscating contraband and selling it on himself,” he said.
“And how has he been getting away with that?”
“He’s blackmailing a publican with a small pub close to the coast.”
Justin set down his glass. A smile slowly spread across his face.
“Well, we’ll just have to make sure this chap receives his just desserts. A visit to the publican?”
“Indeed,” Robin agreed. “Tonight?”
* * *
The lamps had already been lit by the time Rachel returned to the kitchen and stepped back into the familiar, comforting routine of the evening meal.
The smell of pork resting on the bench was delicious, and Mrs. Rolf continued her work in the kitchen, removing a pan of roast vegetables from the oven.
Rachel walked through to the dining room and set the table, and heard sounds from the study across the hall that announced her father’s presence.
“Hello, Father, dinner is ready to be served,” she said. “How is Mr. Douglas?”
“Stubborn as always. No matter how much his daughter wishes that he would give up his cottage and live with her and her family, he has no intention of giving up his home.”
Clive Pendleton offered an indulgent shake of his head. “Equally stubborn daughters, what should we do with them?”
Rachel grinned. “If that is a pointed dig at me, dear father, I shall not rise to the bait. I am as meek and biddable as they come.”
Her father snorted with laughter and held out his hand to her. Rachel went to him and gave him a hug.
“I couldn’t wish for a better daughter,” he whispered.
Rachel closed her eyes and squeezed her father tight.
She loved her father so much that the thought of leaving him was almost unimaginable.
“Mrs. Rolf said Captain Somerville came calling his afternoon.”
Rachel leaned back to look into her father’s eyes.
“Captain Somerville came to call on Lieutenant Weatherall,” she said firmly. “He happened to offer greetings as I was feeding the chickens.”
“Ah, I see.”
That merry twinkle in her father’s eye was worrisome. It meant he had thoughts that he should not think about herself and Robin.
She stubbornly raised her chin and said nothing.
“No time for a stroll?” her father continued. “How disappointing.”
Before she could think of a retort that would settle her father’s unreasonable expectations, Mrs. Rolf announced dinner had been served.
The evening passed convivially as it always did in the Pendleton household—dinner followed by a lively game of cards, followed by an hour or so reading before the pull of lethargy drew its inhabitants to bed.
Rachel readied herself for bed in her upper-story room. The book she had started reading was fascinating, and she wanted to read just one more chapter tonight. She raised the wick on the lamp she placed on her dressing table, then opened the curtains and raised the window sash an inch.
She breathed deep and took in the landscape beyond just as the last of the twilight ebbed.
From her vantage, she could see the corner of Lieutenant Weatherall’s home through the trees.
Was Robin still there? Probably not. Dinner most likely awaited him at Normanton House, perhaps one of those fine dinner parties that Sir Peter and Lady Penelope were famed for hosting.
Rachel sat down on the little bedroom chair with a sigh and picked up her book.
It really was thoughtless of her father to tease her about Robin. His restless spirit wouldn’t let him settle in a little village like Normanton, and besides, his wealth and position would likely have him seek a wife from his own station.
Some hours later Rachel woke with a start. Her room was in semi-darkness. She’d fallen asleep in her chair while reading, and she could see the pages of her book gleam white in the moonlight that streamed through the window.
Indeed, the moon hung high, large but not quite round, lighting up the hill overlooking the town. A faint mist was rising across the churchyard, turning the yew trees into dark silhouettes.
She stood and stretched, then bent down to pick up her book and place it on the dressing table.
In the stillness, Rachel heard the sound of hoofbeats at a gallop.
It was late. Who could be out at such an hour and in such a hurry?
She stayed at the window, peering into the night. Was there an emergency? Was someone coming to them in need of help? Rachel waited at the window, but the sound didn’t get closer.
There on the brow of a hill, she caught the glint—stirrups, perhaps, or sword hilts—as two figures galloped over the brow of the hill, their cloaks billowing out behind them, before disappearing on the other side of the rise.
Captain Moonlight?
Only time would tell.