Wicked Captain, Wayward Wife Read online

  ‘What is beyond those houses?’ she asked Granby, pointing to the cluster of buildings and the little lane beyond the church.

  ‘Fields, madam, and the cliff.’

  ‘Does it overlook the rocks the sailor mentioned?’

  ‘The Rocks of Nore? Yes, madam.’

  ‘Then let us go there.’

  She strode off across the grave yard and through the little gate at the far side. She found herself in a lane that ran between rows of small, rundown houses. Raggedly dressed women and barefoot children stared at her with dull, un friendly eyes as she hurried by and Eve was relieved that Granby was following close behind her. When they emerged from the lane on to the open grassland, there was no shelter from the elements and Eve was suddenly brought to a halt by the strong onshore wind. It buffeted her remorselessly, whipping at her pelisse and skirts and she put up one hand to hold her bonnet. Granby stepped up beside her.

  ‘Allow me, madam.’

  She took his arm and together they battled towards the cliff edge, until they could see the restless, grey-brown water breaking into creamy foam against the rocks beneath them.

  ‘If last night had not happened,’ Eve remarked, ‘if we had not stopped at the Mermaid, I suppose you would have spun me a yarn about my husband’s friends having left Hastings by this time.’

  ‘I would have been obliged to think of some thing, Mrs Wylder.’

  ‘Then you are an unmitigated scoundrel,’ she told him. ‘Now move away and allow me a moment alone to con tem plate my fate.’

  ‘Pray do not go to close to the edge, madam!’

  Eve waved him away. She stood for a moment looking out at the choppy grey waters while the wind tugged at her skirts. She thought how much her life had changed. No longer was she Grandpapa’s darling, living sheltered and secure at Makerham. She was a married woman now and there was no going back. Nick had married her for Monkhurst, but what else did he want from her? Was hers to be a marriage of convenience, was she to be in stalled in one of his houses and left there to run the estate while he was off adventuring? She squared her shoulders, narrowing her eyes a little against the wind. She had no idea what the future might hold, but as for the present…well, she had a part to play. She was a widow. Eve conjured up a picture of Nick as she had last seen him, wearing his old frock-coat with all the swagger and panache of a buccaneer. She was Captain Wyldfire’s widow.

  ‘What on earth am I to do now?’ Evelina stood in the panelled drawing room and looked about her. She had returned to Monkhurst excited at the thought of playing her part in Nick’s ad venture, but now, as the com fort able still ness of her old home settled around her, she found it hard to believe that anything exciting could happen here. She turned to look at Granby, who had followed her into the room.

  ‘I have no doubt your master thinks me safely out of the way here, while he pursues his dangerous games.’

  ‘He is concerned for your welfare, madam. It was his wish that you should go north, to his own family, where he could be sure you were protected.’

  ‘And do you blame me, Granby, do you think I am wrong not to take his advice?’

  ‘I would not presume to criticise your actions, mistress.’

  ‘Damn your eyes, you criticise me with every look!’ she ex claimed, shocking herself with her un lady like language. With a sigh she sank down into a chair and dropped her head in her hands.

  ‘Madam, I—’ Granby broke off. She heard him take a few paces about the room before he began again, his voice devoid of all emotion. ‘Captain Wylder ordered me to remain with you and I know he thought you would be safer at Wylderbeck Hall. Naturally, I do my best at all times to carry out his orders, but I admit that in this instance I was not—unhappy—to remain in Kent.’

  She lifted her head. ‘Thank you Mr Granby,’ she said softly. ‘We neither of us want to be too far away from him, do we?’

  ‘No, madam.’

  Nick’s words came back to her. It will be a comfort to me to have you so close. It was a tiny crumb of consolation and it put new heart in her. Eve jumped to her feet.

  ‘Well, there is no reason why we should not make our selves useful here while we are waiting for this business to come to an end! We can at least make Monkhurst a home again.’ She untied her bonnet and cast it aside. ‘I may have to play the grieving widow, but there is no reason why I cannot be active in my own house!’

  Over the following week Evelina found some outlet for her pent-up energies in making the old house comfort able. She accepted Richard Granby’s offer to act as her general factotum until Nick returned and agreed that Aggie should bring in more girls from the village to help her with the cleaning. In an effort to prevent Silas and his sons from returning to smuggling she set them to work repairing windows and clearing even more of the garden. Eve herself donned an old dimity gown and joined Martha in the attics. They were packed with broken furniture, most of it only fit for firewood, but some of the better pieces she sent down stairs to be used in the house. It was hard work, but it helped to fill her days and at night she was so tired she would fall asleep as soon as she climbed into bed.

  Once the attics had been cleaned, Eve turned her attention to the trunks that were stacked there. They were full of linen and fine fabrics, care fully packed away by some previous owner and Eve made a note of their contents for future use. There was one trunk, however, that caused her to cry out in delight when Martha dragged it forwards for inspection.

  ‘I remember this one!’ she ex claimed, running her hands over the battered top. ‘It was kept in Mama’s bedroom.’

  ‘Nay Miss Eve,’ ex claimed Martha. ‘You can’t recall so long ago, surelye.’

  ‘Well, she is right,’ agreed Aggie, who had come upstairs to help them sort through the trunks. ‘This case was kept beneath the window in the mistresss’s bedroom.’

  ‘Yes!’ cried Eve excitedly. ‘It had cushions on the top, like a window-seat. Look, it has Mama’s initials on the lid: H. W.—Helena Wingham.’

  Aggie reached out one gnarled hand and traced the letters. She gave a loud sigh.

  ‘I remember Miss Helena’s father giving her this trunk when she was a girl and she always had it in her bedroom here, even after she was married and she couldn’t come here quite so often. When your parents died Sir Benjamin moved all their personal effects to Makerham and closed up the house. If he left this behind, it cannot hold anything of value.’

  ‘We must open it and see,’ said Eve. ‘It is locked. Try your keys, Aggie; one of them may fit.’

  But after a fruit less quarter of an hour they were forced to admit that none of the housekeeper’s keys would open the trunk.

  ‘We could break the lock,’ offered Martha.

  ‘No-o, there were a few old keys in Mama’s writing desk,’ said Eve. ‘I saw them when I was hunting for a seal to put on my letter to my Cousin. I did not tell you Martha, I received a note from him yesterday, such a wheedling letter, apologising for frightening me away from Makerham and asking if he could visit me here at Monkhurst.’

  Martha snorted. ‘I hope you told him it was not to be thought of.’

  ‘I did indeed. I made it very clear that I will not have him in my sight.’

  ‘You did very right, Miss Eve. Mr Granby will give him short shrift if he comes anywhere near this house, you may be sure o’ that, miss. I told ’im how Bernard was makin’ up to you, and you having just learned that the master was drowned.’

  Eve shot her handmaid a warning glance.

  ‘Yes, well, if my cousin should decide to visit Monkhurst I shall rely upon Granby and Silas to turn him away. And talking of those two, do you think you could run and find them now, Martha, and ask them to bring this trunk down to my room? Then we can try the keys I have found.’

  The trunk was duly carried down stairs. Martha and the house keeper accompanied it, Aggie declaring that the mistress should not be wasting her time with such trifles.

  ‘It will be filled with old
rubbish, you mark my words,’ she said, shaking her head while Eve hunted through the drawers of the little writing cabinet.

  ‘Perhaps, but I should like to be sure. I know I saw them here some where…ah, here they are.’ She pulled a small bunch of keys from the back of a drawer and held them aloft, smiling triumphantly. ‘Now we shall see!’ She selected the likeliest key and fitted it into the lock while Aggie clucked her disapproval. At first the key did not move, but Eve gripped it tightly and tried again. This time it turned with a soft grating noise.

  ‘You’ve done it Miss Eve!’ Martha stared open-mouthed as Evelina lifted the lid.

  ‘There,’ said Aggie, peering into the trunk. ‘What did I tell you? ’Tis full of old clothes. Let it be, madam.’

  Eve ignored her and rummaged through the contents. ‘I do not under stand.’ She frowned. ‘I know this to be my mother’s trunk.’ She pulled out an old brown jacket. ‘But this is a boy’s coat. It is far too small to belong to my father.’

  ‘Now, Miss Eve, leave off, do,’ ex claimed Aggie as Eve pulled out more clothes.

  ‘Shirts, stockings, buck skins…and a pair of boots.’

  ‘The stable-lad’s cast offs, mayhap,’ offered Martha.

  Eve picked up one of the boots and held it against her own dainty foot. Excitement bubbled within her. ‘Do you know what I think?’ she said softly. ‘I think these clothes belonged to Mama.’

  Martha laughed. ‘Now where are your wits gone a-begging, mistress? They’s lad’s togs.’

  ‘I do not think so.’ Eve fixed her eyes on the old house keeper, who shifted uneasily. ‘Well, Aggie?’

  ‘Now, mistress, how should I know aught about these things?’

  ‘Because you have lived at Monkhurst all your life. You were here when Mama visited the house as a child and you would have seen her grow up here. I can tell from your face that you know some thing.’ She jumped up and caught at the old woman’s hands. ‘Do tell us, Aggie.’

  ‘No, miss, ’tis nothing. It’s all in the past. Let it be,’ she implored, an anguished look upon her face.

  ‘No, I insist.’ Eve gave her hands a little shake. ‘Tell me, Aggie. When did Mama wear these clothes?’

  ‘They could be dressing up clothes,’ suggested Martha, her eyes wide.

  Eve shook her head and kept her own gaze fixed upon the house keeper. ‘No, I do not believe that. Well, Aggie?’

  The old woman looked at her, read the determination in her face and capitulated. ‘The mistress would some times go out in these clothes.’ She paused, looking un com fort able, but Eve’s gaze did not waver and she added, in a whisper. ‘At night. She would go out with the boys, the free traders.’

  Eve clapped her hands. ‘I knew it,’ she breathed. ‘She was a smuggler.’

  ‘No!’ declared Aggie, shocked. ‘Your mama would be mighty offended to hear you speak so. There has always been trade twixt here and the Continent. Silas and the other lads from the village would bring in a few ankers of brandy every now and then. Only small, mind you—we had no truck with the big cutters bringin’ in tea and brandy for the towns, we’ve only ever brought in enough for local use. Everyone knew about it and turned to the wall if the pack-ponies were coming through the village. Miss Helena discovered it on one of her visits here with the family. She could twist Silas round her little finger. Apple of ’is eye, she was, so when she wanted to go out with ’em, he couldn’t stop her, short o’ telling old Mr Wingham, and that ’e would never do. After all, it was only the local lads plying their trade, not one o’ them nasty, vicious gangs that would cut yer throat as soon as look at you.’

  ‘And did she stop going out with them once she was married?’

  ‘Of course. She gave it all up when she became Mrs Shawcross.’

  Eve gazed up at the portrait of her mother. Looking into the demure smiling face, she thought now she could detect a gleam in those dark eyes that she had not noticed before. She laughed suddenly. ‘Perhaps I am not such a poor match for Captain Wyldfire after all!’

  ‘I beg your pardon miss?’ said Martha.

  Eve shook her head, smiling mischievously. She began to pack the clothes back into the trunk. ‘It is nearly dinner time and this is such dusty work, I think I will have a bath, Aggie. We will continue sorting through the trunks tomorrow.’

  However, the following morning, Evelina had barely risen from the break fast table when Granby came in to tell her that she had a visitor.

  ‘Lady Chelston has called, madam. I have shown her into the morning room.’

  Eve stared at him. ‘Lady Chelston! What in heaven’s name can she want with me?’

  ‘To offer her condolences, perhaps?’ he suggested quietly.

  She swallowed. ‘And you think I must see her?’ His steady look gave Eve her answer. ‘Oh, heavens!’ She bit her lip. ‘I suppose I must do so, but I will not see her wearing this old gown! Do you go back to her, Mr Granby, and tell her I shall be with her presently—and if she objects and will not wait while I change, then so much the better.’

  But when Eve entered the morning room some twenty minutes later she found her guest sitting at her ease, flicking through one of the periodicals that Eve had left on a small side table. Eve came in quietly, smoothing her hands over the heavy black bombazine skirts of her mourning gown. She wore no ornament save the plain gold wedding band upon her finger, and her hair was covered by a black lace cap. She looked, she hoped, very much the grieving widow.

  ‘Lady Chelston. I am so sorry to keep you waiting.’ She gave a little curtsy before raising her eyes to observe her guest.

  Catherine Chelston was a tall, spare woman. Her once handsome face was heavily lined and at odds with the im probably black curls that peeped from under her large hat. Her Pomona-green travel ling dress rustled as she hurried towards Eve, holding out her hands and saying impetuously, ‘Oh my poor child, so beautiful, so like your dear mama.’

  Eve blinked. ‘You—you knew my mother?’

  ‘Yes, yes. That was many years ago now, of course, we lost touch once we were married. When I heard you had taken up residence at Monkhurst, I was determined to pay a morning visit and make myself known to you. And to offer you my condolences. So tragic, my dear, to lose your sheltered and your husband in so short a time. I thought to find you prostrate.’

  ‘We bear it as best we can, ma’am.’ Eve gently withdrew her hands and gestured to her guest to sit down. ‘News travels fast here, I see.’

  Lady Chelston laughed softly. ‘It is the way in these country areas, and neighbours must offer each other such solace as they are able.’

  ‘Oh, ma’am? Are we, then, neighbours?’

  Again that soft, assured laugh. ‘Chelston Hall is not much more than a dozen miles from here, and in an area where there are so very few good families, I do not like to be backward in my attentions.’

  Eve inclined her head. She did not know how to respond, but was spared the necessity of a reply for Lady Chelston continued with barely a pause for breath.

  ‘By the bye, my dear; who is that delightful young man who showed me in here? Not your butler, I vow.’

  ‘No, that is Mr Granby. He was my husband’s valet and has agreed to stay on with me,’ explained Eve, deciding that it would be best to stick as closely to the truth as she could. ‘I have not yet set up my house hold here, and Granby is very useful. He fulfils the role of a major-domo very well.’

  ‘He is certainly very personable,’ murmured Lady Chelston, her eyes half-closed. ‘When you have finished with him, my dear, you must send him to me and I shall find him a place in my house hold. I like to be surrounded by attractive young men. Oh, have I shocked you? I am sorry, Mrs Wylder, I allowed my tongue to run away with me, but you are so like your sainted mama that I quite forgot myself.’

  ‘Did—did you know my mother well, ma’am?’

  ‘Oh, yes, we were the greatest friends. Helena and I went off to school together, you know. We were both sadly wild, always fallin
g into scrapes. It is difficult to know who was the leader! I was quite surprised when Helena married Shawcross—he was such a very quiet gentleman, not at all what I thought she would—’ She broke off suddenly and smiled. ‘But I am running on to no purpose and you will be wishing me at Jericho.’

  ‘Not at all, ma’am,’ murmured Eve politely.

  ‘Now, my poor Mrs Wylder, you are here, all on your own, no family, no friends—’

  ‘I have many loyal people around me.’ Eve was quick to correct her, but Lady Chelston merely waved her hand dismissively.

  ‘Servants. That is not at all the same thing. Life can be very lonely here on the Marsh. I know you will wish to live quietly, but it will do you no good to become a hermit. I know what you must do, you must come to Chelston Hall and stay with me! There is room and to spare, and you will very welcome.’

  ‘That is very kind, Lady Chelston, but—’

  ‘Better still,’ cried my lady, ignoring her interruption, ‘you must join my house party! I have friends coming to stay in a se’ennight and it would be just the thing for you to have some company. I am holding a masquerade, too, which is very exciting. I have already ordered a costume for myself and for Chelston. He is to be Hades and I am Persephone. It will be such fun…oh, do say you will come!’

  ‘Really, madam, I cannot. My mourning is too recent—’

  ‘Nonsense. Mourning in the country is a very different matter from the public show you would be obliged to put on in town, where everyone would know you and your cir cum stances. Here you are not known, and no one will be offended if you go about a little. I have never held with widows shutting them selves away, that only leads to deep melancholy. And you are not to think that I would be wishing for you to be merry all day long; Chelston Hall is a large house and you will be able to take yourself off and be quiet now and then, if you wish, but I shall be there to look out for you, to make sure you do not succumb to your dismal thoughts. Of course, you will not dance at the ball, but think how well you will look at the masquerade, dressed all in black and with a black satin mask to hide your identity! You will look so elegantly mysterious that all the ladies will be jealous and the gentlemen will be wild to discover who you are!’