Chapter 22
In which several persons behave oddly
I have found that the hardest thing to endure is not my own suffering, but the suffering of others when I can do nothing to help.
— from Lady Avely’s Guide to Guile and Peril
Judith tried to snatch some sleep when Marigold would be making her dangerous crossing, but it was impossible. Her nerves were too stretched, her mind too anxious with all that could go wrong. Eventually, she flung her legs over the side of the bed, put her cloak on, and slipped out of her room.
First, she made her way outside, to the eastern ramparts. Somehow, irrationally, she hoped she might still be able to see the distant mast of the Crescent, in the dark without the telescope. But leaning over the thick grey stone, she could see nothing. Just endless ocean, the waves a constant roar.
The sky was hung with stars; the night was clear, at least, the misshapen moon casting silvery beams upon the water. Judith stayed there a long time staring into the darkness, allowing the cool breeze and the rumble of the waves to soothe her.
She must not allow herself to think how Dacian could be snatched away to Austria.
Instead, she must imagine what she would do with him once she had him safe in the castle.
How she will bundle him into her bed—any bed—and lay her body right up against his.
How she will ply him with drinking chocolate and cream, and how they will talk for hours and make up for lost time and become thoroughly entangled, his hair in her hands, his warm lips on hers, his laughing eyes…
Lost in these pleasant fantasies, she was almost frozen in place when she caught sight of movement below. Beneath the ramparts were steeply terraced garden beds, clinging to the cliffside, overgrown and neglected. A woman hurried up one of the zigzagging paths, her shoulders hunched.
Judith narrowed her eyes. It was too short to be Mrs Ulrich. In fact, it looked very much like the neat figure of Miss Onslow.
She was carrying something in her hand, curled up before her, and glancing around nervously.
She even gave a penetrating look in the direction of the ramparts, and Judith felt sure she must be discovered.
But her own figure must have been indistinguishable against the bulky stone, for Miss Onslow looked down again, continuing her furtive scurry along the tangled path.
What was she doing? Judith wished for the telescope again, for Miss Onslow was too far away to make out what she carried.
As she watched, the young woman reached a particularly stony wall, a steep face of the terrace.
She put down her burden and proceeded to heave a large rock out of the cliff wall.
Placing it on the floor, she put her parcel into the cavity and returned the rock with some difficulty.
Then she dusted her hands off, casting another searching glance above her.
Judith stayed utterly still. Miss Onslow turned away again and hurried back down through the gardens. Her steps seemed lighter, her posture relieved.
How intriguing. Was this part of Miss Onslow’s intelligence activities? Was she leaving a message for someone? Yet why would she need to do that, if she met regularly with Captain Drumpellier in the Blue Drawing Room?
Judith frowned down at the cliff wall, wondering if she had time to investigate herself. She chewed on her lip, indecisive. She didn’t really like the idea of scrambling along the steep path in the dark, but that made it even more curious that Miss Onslow had attempted it.
Robert’s voice came behind her. “Can’t sleep?”
Judith swung around, startled. “Goodness me. Not at all.” She saw he was carrying his stick under his arm, rather than leaning upon it. His leg must be improving. “You neither?”
He shook his head and came to lean against the rampart. He stared out at the heaving ocean. “It’s a long way for a little bat.”
She felt a flash of guilt. “Do you think I should not have asked it of her?”
Robert shrugged. “We don’t have any alternative, as far as I can see.”
Judith was glad he had said ‘we’; there was a sense of camaraderie between them again, conjured by their shared anxiety for the duke.
She ran her eyes over him and saw that he wore the same coat as earlier in the day, but the red embroidery had faded.
Teasingly, she gestured at the sleeve. “I see you are not trying to impress me, at least.”
Robert gave a rueful grimace. “I am conscious that Miss Onslow must be accustomed to much grander company than mine.”
“Nonsense. You should simply present yourself as you are, without any subterfuge. After all, if you wish to court her, it must be as yourself.”
Robert said nothing, just looked out to sea.
With a start, Judith remembered she had just seen Miss Onslow below and debated if she should inform him of the fact.
He wouldn’t like the idea that Miss Onslow was devious.
Or worse, he might try to investigate the cliff-face himself, with his injured leg.
As she debated, Robert cleared his throat.
“I saw something odd just now,” he said.
“Oh?” Had he seen Miss Onslow?
“One of the footmen—he was carrying water up to his room.”
Judith took a moment to digest this. “Is that odd?” Of course, Robert would know. Up until recently, he had been a footman himself.
“Ordinarily, male servants wash behind the stables. So why would he carry a bucket of hot water up to his quarters?”
Judith frowned in thought. “I hope he is not entertaining Miss Isla in there.” Another thought occurred to her. “Could he be sheltering someone in his room, do you think? A smuggler?”
“I did, as a matter of fact, quietly follow, and listen at his door,” confessed Robert. “Given that you mentioned your suspicions about the fellow. But I couldn’t hear any other voices, just the sound of sloshing water.”
“So what was he doing?” Judith was perplexed, and belatedly remembered the murder she was supposed to be investigating. “Laundering bloodstains, perhaps?”
Robert huffed a laugh. “I confess, I had the same thought. Perhaps he was the one to drag the soldier’s body through the tunnel, and his clothes became stained as a result.”
Such a theory fit with Kade’s hostile reaction to Judith’s enquiries. It also explained Miss Isla’s nervousness, but Judith wondered again at the motive.
“But why? Why would Kade dispatch him, when it seemed clear that Miss Isla was uninterested in the soldier?”
“Perhaps Sgt Finlay threatened him in some other way,” mused Robert.
“Mm,” agreed Judith. “Could he be the hypothetical French spy, spying on Miss Onslow? Passing on her communications to the wrong people?”
It seemed unlikely. Cornishmen, like Kade and Kynver, didn’t like the English. Yet they were still staunchly patriotic to Britain, and they wouldn’t cede anything to the French either.
Judith sighed. “I know I should be more concerned about the possibility that Kade is up to no good with his bucket of water, but I’m afraid that all my attention is taken up by our rescue attempt.”
Robert hunched a shoulder in agreement. “I’ll keep an eye on the footmen, if you like. There’s something that strikes me as not quite right about them.”
“Kade? Or Kynver?”
“I don’t know; they seem to keep changing places,” said Robert, “which is suspicious enough in itself. And I saw one of them talking to the baron too, in a way that seemed to go beyond an ordinary functional exchange.”
“Hmm,” said Judith. “It is not the first time the baron has been seen deep in conversation with the servants. What could he be about?” She pushed away from the wall, suddenly worried about the time. “But I must wait for Perry in the Blue Drawing Room now. Do you want to wait with me?”
“No,” Robert said shortly.
She eyed his stiff figure. “Perry will like you, you know.” Even as she said it, she realised that wasn’t the problem. It was that Robert was determined not to like Perry. “If you wish to stay away, I understand. But don’t linger too long in the cold.”
Robert nodded, avoiding her eyes. Damnation, she had been too motherly again. Judith left, quite feeling as if she were abandoning one child for another.
It was almost midnight by the clock in the Blue Drawing Room.
Judith took up her place on the settee next to the fire, pleased to see that one of her retainers had kindly lit the hearth.
Warmth filled the room, softening the cool tones.
Candles had been left aglow by a plate of chudleighs and cream.
Her housekeeper had attempted to ease her vigil, a gesture of support that Judith was glad to observe.
She nibbled on the bread, trying not to become anxious as the minutes ticked by.
It would be a long flight for Marigold, who also had the arduous task of finding Perry and explaining everything.
Judith couldn’t reasonably expect them until well after midnight.
She settled back in her chair, wishing she had the foresight to bring her embroidery with her: she had already finished knitting the creamy wool stockings for Elinor’s wedding, but she wanted to embroider some handkerchiefs with her daughter’s new initials.
Elinor would need extra kerchiefs, after all, with Miss Zooth as her companion.
‘EB’ could be done in quite a flowing style, or perhaps in a blackletter font…
After some time, Mrs Ulrich herself glided into the room, careful to stay by the door, out of the way of any materialising young relatives.
“I have done as you asked, ma’am,” the housekeeper said. Her customarily morose voice now held a note of excitement. “Is there anything else you require?”
Judith resolutely put aside any thoughts of embroidery. “There is something you could do. I saw Miss Onslow creeping along the garden terraces an hour ago, and she hid something in one of the walls. Do you know of any secret cavities in the cliff-face in the gardens?”