Chapter 4
Robin gave his horse its head. The black gelding extended its stride and kept its footing sure on the moonlit road.
Even though the English Channel was three miles to their east, the briny tang of the sea air filled his lungs.
This. This was the cure for the restlessness that gnawed at him. Anticipation that thrummed through every nerve; his senses heightened, alert to danger—whether it be from the man, beast or nature herself.
It had been like this onboard ship, every time they sailed into a storm or faced an armada. It was there, the tension that made his hands and feet feel as though they were almost tingling, his jaw tightened until his teeth ached.
Damn it, he felt alive.
Captain Moonlight had started as a semi-drunken jest with Justin one evening after he’d listened to his brother recount his disquiet over the belittling treatment of Lady Georgina at the hands of her brute of a husband, Lord Farthingale.
Penelope had said that she tried to gently broach the subject with the lady herself, but the poor woman insisted nothing was amiss.
The man’s lack of consideration towards his wife bothered them all, but what could they do about the domestic matters of another household? And if something should be done, then how could it be made to happen in a way that wouldn’t leave Lady Georgina in a worse predicament with her husband?
The man needed to be humiliated in front of others and in front of his wife, Robin had decided. And thus, the idea of a highwayman was born and tonight saw him galloping along the road at midnight for the start of another escapade.
Robin glanced across at Justin who raced alongside him. His friend turned and also flashed him a grin.
Brothers-in-arms once more.
Farthingale had received his comeuppance a month after a dinner party at Normanton House. He and his wife were travelling down from London with two other couples when a highwayman ordered their carriage to stop.
Like the coward Robin knew the man to be, Farthingale’s initial bluster turned to blubbering as he was liberated of his fancy gold hunter pocket watch and other valuables, and was made to strip off his own clothes and then rob his fellow passengers.
Robin had then ordered the other passengers back into the coach and sent it on its way, leaving Farthingale alone, vulnerable in the middle of a deserted highway, in the middle of the night.
By morning, Farthingale had been found tied to a tree, his buttocks striped purple and black, caned by an expert hand.
As for the purloined jewels—they were delivered intact a fortnight later by the royal post to a solicitor in London, who received with it a full accounting of the evening penned by Captain Moonlight himself.
The next time the Farthingales dined at Normanton House there had been a marked shift for the better in the man’s demeanor.
Yes, it had been a risky endeavor, and Robin freely acknowledged it. So much could have gone wrong but, by God, how satisfying it was to deliver a little extra-judicial punishment to those who deserved it.
And that’s what tonight was going to be about.
Word had reached them via a former midshipman of their acquaintance who had newly joined the Preventative Waterguards, a division of His Majesty’s Excise Service, that his superior, Jimmy Hall, was purposefully working in league with a gang of smugglers and enriching himself handsomely as a result.
And a large haul of tobacco, brandy, and silk was expected to be diverted to an isolated coastal inn on top of a headland. That’s where they were heading now.
The building sat low and squat on the headland, its whitewashed stone glowing in the bright moonlight.
Robin and Justin brought their horses to a halt. The sea was below them, and the sound of waves crashing over rocks brought the smell of salt air even more acutely to their noses.
From their vantage point, they could see cuts in the rock that indicated steps down towards the water.
“No easy task to bring contraband back up to the top,” Robin observed.
“There might well be caves below, and a second way down from the inn,” Justin added.
“You mentioned innkeeper George Blunt is a reluctant participant in Hall’s scheme?”
“Apparently so. Not without a sideline of his own, I’m given to understand, but he has serious reservations about this one.”
“We’ll take Midshipman Younger at his word,” said Robin, pulling his tricorne hat lower over his eyes and pulling up the corners of his coat. “I see lights in the window. We’ll see if Mr. Blunt will stand us a pint.”
There were three men inside, one slumped in his chair by the fire and snoring loudly. Two others were hunched over a set of dominos, half-full tankards at the elbow.
He and Justin went straight to the empty bar. Blunt appeared almost immediately and eyed the two of them with suspicion, until Justin slid over a half a crown and a playing card—the ace of spades—a pre-arranged signal.
Blunt, a tall, solidly-built man with a head as bald as a new-born babe’s, nodded grimly, poured two pints, then nodded to a curtained-off area behind him. Robin and Justin silently followed him into the kitchen.
“I want to get one thing straight,” the man whispered harshly. “I ain’t never been a turncoat in my life. My family have been running this area for more than a hundred years, and we’ve never betrayed one of our own.
“I took a big risk trusting Younger and a bigger risk letting you two in here, but there is one thing a man won’t stand for, and that’s when someone threatens his family.”
“We understand, Blunt,” said Robin.
“Do you?” The man’s weathered face wrinkled into a sneer. “I have a daughter who’s fifteen. She’s a beauty, just like her mother were, and Hall said when he comes back next, he’ll…”
Blunt’s words failed him at that moment. He hung his head, shook it, and drew in a deep breath. Anger and fear were painted across his ruddy visage.
Robin’s jaw tightened, and he squeezed his hands tight to manage his own anger.
“Have no fear for your daughter,” he said. “We’ll get her away from here. She’ll stay with a very respectable young lady in Normanton until this is over.”
Long silence ensued. Robin had the sense that the man was arguing with himself.
Then finally, a single nod.
“What do ye want me to do?” he said.
Justin immediately jumped in with questions, pressing him for more details of Hall’s accomplices, their number, whether they were armed, and the manifest.
Blunt answered without reservation; they would be dealing with a core group of six. Hall, he knew carried a pistol—he’d seen it—and there was no doubt that all of them were carrying knives. He knew nothing more about the manifest, but he was to receive a barrel of brandy for his trouble.
An hour later, Blunt showed them out the back way to where their horses waited. It was obvious the man had questions of his own, and they had seen the effort it had taken to not ask them, lest he appear ungrateful.
Just as Robin mounted his horse, Blunt called out the one that was obviously the most pressing to him. “What do you want in return?”
“Nothing.”
The man’s brow furrowed.
Robin shook his head and flashed a grin.
“Believe it or not, Hall will pay for the pleasure of our company.”
* * *
Given all the preparations required for the house party and associated social events that went with it, for Rachel to receive a note kindly requesting her presence at Normanton House was not entirely unexpected.
This major social event often required more staff in attendance than would be required day-to-day, and many of the villagers enjoyed the opportunity to earn extra money as gardeners, scullery maids, odd-jobs men, laundresses, and the like.
It often fell to Rachel to assist Lady Penelope in managing the additional personnel, and house party season was a time that she looked forward to.
She’d only been to London twice in her life and never in elevated society, and it was intriguing to see the ladies’ maids and valets behaving like lords and ladies below stairs, as their masters and mistresses did above it.
Moreover, it was exciting to catch a glimpse of ball-goers in their satins, silks, and glistening jewels.
As she made her way to the house, she was struck by an image of Captain Robin Somerville in his evening wear. He danced well—she knew it from the country dances he attended from time to time—and in her mind’s eye she saw him smiling, dancing, and conversing with these sophisticated London ladies.
He would look handsome in black.
The sharp pang in her chest surprised her.
Somehow over the past year, she’d got herself into the habit of thinking of Robin Somerville as hers. While he was always polite and considerate to everyone he came across, she liked to think that he held her in some special regard.
There had been enough lingering glances and touches that suggested so. But was she truly deluding herself in harboring an affection greater than was wise?
Rachel hesitated at the fork in the path. The left would take her to the front door; the right to the servants’ entrance. Where did she belong, really? She was only the daughter of a humble village curate, after all.
With her mind made up, Rachel turned to the right, going to the entrance she had always used.
Robin was never really hers. He belonged to the same society as his brother, and he ought to have a wife who elevated his status, and the sooner he acknowledged that fact, the better off she would be.
Any concerns Rachel had that her brooding thoughts lingered on her face was dispelled when she was ushered by a housemaid to Lady Penelope’s study, where the lady of the house greeted her warmly.
The women settled down to business and had all the arrangements largely agreed upon when a maid arrived with tea and a small tray of delicacies.
“Cook has found herself in possession of a French cookbook that Robin brought with him when he returned from sea. She has discovered a new set of recipes for petits fours, and we are trying a few of her favorites,” said Lady Penelope. “Will you stay for tea?”
“I’d be honored.”
Before her was a selection of macarons and duchesses, as well as glazed little cakes, beautifully decorated, in addition to little eclairs and tartlets. To Rachel, they all looked and tasted delicious, but Lady Penelope made notes on each one.
“I have to confess something to you, and I know I can trust you to keep this in strictest confidence.”
Lady Penelope’s words surprised her.
Rachel took a sip from her teacup and set it down on the table.
“Of course, my lady.”
“Sir Peter and I are concerned about Robin. He has been home for nearly a year.”
“Surely that is a good thing? I know how much Sir Peter has enjoyed having his brother home.”
Penelope inclined her head lightly in acknowledgement. “As we all have. The children adore him as do I, but we worry about his restless nature. It’s not good for a man of his disposition to remain still for long. He needs a home and a family of his own.”
“I think that would be good for him, too.”
“I’m so glad you think so. The reason I raise this is that sometimes Robin will go missing for two to three days at a time, and no one knows where he goes off to.
That’s not to say that we keep him a prisoner in our home— he’s free to come and go as he wishes —but he occasionally disappears in the dead of night. ”
Rachel breathed in slowly then exhaled, then breathed in once more.
Captain Moonlight.
She held her breath, waiting for Lady Penelope to draw the same conclusion as she had, but she did not.
“I know he is fond of you and your father. If by some opportunity, you could persuade your father to speak to him and find out if aught is amiss…”
“Certainly, my lady,” said Rachel. “He holds the captain in high regard.”
“I think it would do as well if you spoke to him as well.”
Rachel frowned.
“Me? I could hardly persuade a man of his stature.”
Lady Penelope raised her teacup and brought it to her lips, and if Rachel wasn’t very much mistaken, it was done to hide a smile.
“I believe you underestimate Robin’s regard for you,” she said softly.
What could she say to that? Rachel dropped her head to hide the flush of color she felt rise on her cheeks.
“I want you to be our guest for the house party next month,” Lady Penelope continued. “I would like for Sir Peter to get to know you better.”