Chapter 12
Twelve
It took Hugh less than twenty minutes to reach the Cock and Bull. He looked up at the window above the taproom, and focused on the indistinct shadows in the guttering candlelight.
This was where the gentlemen of the district who ran the affairs of Swain Cove congregated. The magistrate, the squire, Lord Pencarrow, and several excisemen and government officials who had arrived in the Mail Coach the previous day were meeting in the parlour above the tap room.
Someone must have tipped them off that something was in the wind. The full moon offered perfect conditions to carry out covert smuggling operations, and they were no doubt on high alert.
“Good evening, Mr Kernick.”
Hugh was still regulating his breathing when the door was opened by a servant who recognised him. “What brings you here at this hour?”
“Just some refreshment and some company,” Hugh said, uncomfortably aware that Silas Trevelyn, the publican, was staring at him from the door step. Perhaps it was he who had sent the note.
Trevelyn and the others would have spread word of his arrival in the cellar during the storm. And in company with Miss Stanbridge. The whole town would be agog by the news.
The fact that Miss Stanbridge was going to wed Mr Ravensby while Hugh was off to Riverdale before the end of the week would add to the speculation.
“Oh, aye, you’re in the right place, then.” The publican sent him a narrow look as he ushered Hugh in and poured him a drink.
Hugh took a sip of his ale, glancing out of the grimy windows, the curtains half drawn. He saw, now, that several other men had taken up position there. They were conversing over their porter while darting furtive glances out towards the cliffs, the sea a black expanse in the distance.
Now Hugh saw a bobbing light. A lantern, borne by a dark, unseen figure, weaving up the cliff side. Several, in fact. And then others, in a twisting series of golden glowing dots.
And all in view of the very tavern where their greatest enemy was currently meeting. Had they known and were brazenly tempting fate?
The widening of his eyes must have given him away, but the publican made it clear he knew Hugh’s reasons, for he showed his blackened teeth for the first time, grinning as he said, “The windows in the upstairs meetin’ parlour don’t face the sea where the action is.
” He indicated the darkness outside with a nod.
“Now or never. Swain Cove is countin’ on you and the young miss back at Honeyfield House to draw their attention for Mr Barton were most enthused at the prospect o’ catchin half the town red-handed.
” He chuckled. “We expected him to come racing in here, pistol at the ready and holding at least one of ‘em by the ear but it looks like the pretty governess must be doin’ a fine job of keeping ‘im enthralled by the charms that our esteemed Mr Ravensby is soon to enjoy, as word has it.” He jerked his thumb at the low ceiling, and chuckled. “Ravensby’s up there, if you want to go and tell him and his friends that you’re the hero of the day and can lead them to their quarry.
” He paused and they both listened as the door above opened and voices drifted out onto the landing.
The publican’s tone changed. “Or you can tell them something else. Something to waylay them. Something that will keep them happy and entertained up there while our lads do what they have to in order to keep food on the table for the neediest households in Swain Cove.” He tapped the cask of brandy.
“A drop of this, on the ’ouse, might do the trick. ”
Hugh nodded, already heading out of the taproom and taking the stairs to the room above.
The publican’s words rang in his ears. Charlotte was waylaying Mr Dunlop, it was true. But what had she been forced to do?
She was enterprising when she wanted something. Thinking about how emboldened the brandy had made her made him squirm.
No, he couldn’t think of that.
And she’d had no brandy to embolden her in her quest to prevent Mr Barton from taking to the path between Honeyfield House and the Cock and Bull when the men were moving the contraband.
No doubt, though, she’d done her best to keep him by her side with her music and her lovely voice.
“Gentlemen, I hope I’m not intruding. I’ve just come from Honeyfield House,” he said, arriving on the threshold into the passage as the magistrate, Mr Ravensby, and several others emerged from the parlour.
“You walked?” Sir Pennyworth looked him up and down. “I daresay it’s a pleasant walk on a moonlit night like this.”
“Honeyfield House, you say?” Ravensby pushed back an oiled lock. He was not a man who drank, but there was a flush to his cheeks that seemed out of character.
“And how was your walk?” the magistrate enquired. “No ghosts or ghoulies to frighten you? I had thought you were accompanying my wife and son.” He frowned. “Has something happened?”
How was Hugh to explain? He had to think fast. “I got a call to attend Granny Smith who lives a short distance away.” He thought of the publican’s offer and of the half-empty barrel of brandy stored in the cellar and said, “While I was there one of the villagers came in with the news that a barrel had been found washed upon the beach.”
The two excise officers flanking Sir Pennyworth on the landing sent Hugh a suspicious look. “Brandy?”
Hugh shrugged. “The man supposed it had drifted with the tide. Perhaps fallen off a boat further up the coast. He’d come to ask Granny Smith’s advice and I said I’d talk to you gentlemen.” He hesitated. “Obviously it would have been a crime for them to have kept it and said nothing.”
“Where is it now? We’ll take possession of it,” said Mr Dunlop.
“Or try it and indeed see if it is French brandy or something else designed to throw us off the scent,” said Sir Pennyworth.
His companions looked shocked, and he shrugged. “I say a small snifter each to verify what substance it is would not be against the law. Nor would it be missed if we’re talking about a whole barrel.”
Hugh nodded. “Good, I’ll tell the publican and have the serving girl bring it up.”
Relieved that matters seemed to be going his way, he turned, concerned, when Mr Dunlop said, “I think we should go and see this man now. Ask him where this barrel is.”
“It’s been brought here,” called Trevelyn from the bottom of the stairs.
“Turns out it were mostly empty though there’s still a good drop, untainted.
Reckon it smashed on the rocks just before the tide went out so it’s not spoiled, though what would I know?
” He grinned up at them. “Perhaps you gentlemen could give me your opinion.”
Mr Dunlop frowned “We were on our way out. I think we’d best decline,” but the magistrate laughed and said genially, “Tell us, Mr Kernick, you’ve only just walked the cliff top. Why don’t you report back to us? Did you see anything?”
“Not a thing.” Hugh shook his head. He was surprised by his employer’s lack of concern. Sir Pennyworth was a stickler at the best of times, but he seemed unusually relaxed. Mr Ravensby, by contrast, was frowning, while Lord Pencarrow looked somewhat bemused.
“You’ve just come from seeing Miss Stanbridge?” asked Mr Ravensby. “I trust she is well.”
“Exceedingly,” said Hugh, making a subtle but determined attempt to usher everyone back into the room from which they were intent a moment before on leaving. He nearly followed this up by what might have been expected: that Miss Stanbridge sent greetings. Except that Hugh would not say that.
Thoughts in this direction were too painful. Right now he was staring at the man whom Charlotte would marry, and Hugh had not an arrow in his quiver to offer her an alternative.
His heart was not enough when they both needed to have a roof over their heads and food in their bellies.
The publican arrived with a tray bearing drinks and with Hugh’s delicate engineering, they were soon ensconced in their chairs, each with a snifter of excellent brandy.
“To think the villains in this very area are denying the government of the duty from such fine liquor,” said Mr Ravensby, after an appreciative sip.
“And those who would pay to appreciate it, too, when ships are lured onto the rocks and their bounty plundered,” said the magistrate.
“Mercifully, it’s been a long time since that happened, but we’ve had intelligence that a number of forays have been made across the channel, picking up the goods from France and slipping under the notice of the Coast Guard.
” He raised his glass at the two excisemen.
“You are rendering a valuable service, and we’re grateful.
I look forward to meeting the man to whom you will report.
You say Mr Barton should be here shortly? ”
“He was due by eleven.” Mr Dunlop sent an anxious look through the window. He’d finished his brandy and clearly expected no more.
Hugh leaned forward and refilled his glass and, with a surprised and grateful look, the gentleman leaned back in his chair.
“I daresay he could hardly have fallen into danger if you’ve only just come this way yourself, Mr Kernick. And saw nothing?” Sir Pennyworth sent him another enquiring look as he sipped his whisky.
“The villagers of Swain Cove would render assistance if Mr Barton were in any danger,” Hugh assured them. “I grew up in these parts, if you didn’t know.”
“Not amongst the villagers, though,” said Mr Barton, clearing his throat, but Hugh was happy to claim his birthright, saying, “I was a farmer’s son—”
“Whose exceptional aptitude and understanding of a superior way of life will see him swell the ranks of Oxford university, some day,” the magistrate said with a pride that surprised Hugh.
Hugh sent him a grateful look as Lord Pennyworth added, “He leaves next week for a position at Riverdale School.”
Murmurs of commendation sounded from the gentlemen present and gained Hugh the appreciative nods of the two men who had come into their fold to threaten Swain Cove’s delicate economy.
Yes, the smuggling activities of the villagers were wrong, but they’d not killed or maimed, as Sir Pennyworth had noted.
By the end of the second brandy, the two excise men were nodding in their chairs, but they jerked upright when the squire said irritably, “What’s keeping Mr Barton?
” He glanced out of the window, where Hugh also sent a worried glance.
But all was darkness, and he was about to return his gaze to the squire when a bobbing light made him stand abruptly to deflect any possible attention from that area.
Sir Pennyworth also rose, saying, “His delay has me worried. Let us take my carriage and we shall go to Honeyfield House. We might find Mr Barton on the road.”
Sir Pennyworth’s carriage was in the courtyard, which took the gentleman away from the coastline for at least the next ten minutes, as far as Hugh could judge.
“I’m sure Mr Barton has excellent reasons for this delay. However, as I’d like to reassure myself that all is in order, might I ask to join you, gentlemen?” Hugh’s concerns were not for Mr Barton, of course. He needed to reassure himself of Charlotte’s safety.
He glanced at Mr Ravensby who said obligingly, “Then I shall return home on my way as I would like a good night’s sleep before I face the exciting prospects of the morning.”
Hugh felt ill at the inference. Ravensby’s new day would involve meeting Charlotte to hear her accept his marriage proposal. He turned away, then followed the others down the stairs.
If he could only see Charlotte one more time before she met with Ravensby in the morning.
He’d throw a pebble at her window, and when he saw her lovely face, he’d…
He’d torture himself with the knowledge that she would soon be lost to him.
Forever.
After Ravensby farewelled them, Hugh climbed in Sir Pennyworth’s carriage opposite the excise men.
The brandy had made him maudlin, though he should have felt buoyed by the apparent success of his role in distracting the company.
All he wanted, though, was to kiss Charlotte one final time before she accepted Ravensby.