Fenella Miller (15 page)

At his casual mention of customs men her bravura evaporated. This was not a jolly escapade at all, but a real-life nightmare fraught with unseen dangers and unbearable risks. She wished she had not been so stupid, had refused to help.

‘Marianne, hurry up, we don’t have time to delay.’ She had to continue—far too late to back out. The horses wandered off quite happy to graze in the paddock together. She heard the soft pad of unshod hooves and Edward arrived beside her, leading two large, friendly donkeys. He handed the reins of the smaller one to her.

‘This is Bobbin. Jump up quickly, we have to get to the hideaway.’

Riding astride, a blanket the only saddle, on a donkey with her legs dangling was a strange experience. She urged her mount alongside his in order to whisper a question.

‘How far is it before we load them?’

‘Not far—now quiet, we must talk no more than necessary.’

Bobbin walked along in the rear unbothered by the darkness. Marianne found his gait odd after the long stride of her gelding but adjusted rapidly and was beginning to enjoy the ride when Edward reined in and dismounted.

He vanished into the hedge, pulling Thread, his mount, behind him. Marianne did the same, finding herself outside a ramshackle hut, well disguised by a wickerwork of brushwood. Obviously the contraband was stored inside. Without a lantern it was hard to load the animals but Edward, an expert at such tasks, did most of the work. Thirty minutes later the donkeys were laden, the shed once more invisible under its blanket of branches and they were ready to leave.

‘Follow me, don’t speak. If you hear anyone coming dismount and put your hand over Bobbin’s muzzle. He knows that means to be silent. It’s a long walk, and this is the part that carries the most risk, when we are actually in possession of the illegal goods.’

She nodded and whispered, in case he didn’t discern her movement in the blackness. ‘I understand.’

Their progress was slow and Marianne jumped at every snapping twig and hooting owl. They were following a well-trodden path, but a secret one. Eventually, at around midnight, Edward waved her to a halt. Her eyes had eventually adjusted to the dark and she discovered she could see quite well.

‘We are here, see the dark shape—it’s a disused mill. We unload the donkeys in there.’

‘Will there be anyone there to meet us? I don’t wish to be seen even by a smuggler.’

‘No, I leave the stuff and collect any letters and my money from a hidey-hole in the wall.’

Her heart pounding, Marianne led Bobbin across the open space, expecting at any moment a gun would fire and excise men would erupt from the circle of trees and arrest them.

Fortunately the area was empty, the mill house too. Unloading was quicker work and soon the oil-skin wrapped goods, silks and small barrels of best cognac had been dropped into a ready-made hole in the floor.

Edward replaced the floorboards and the pile of old sacks and told Marianne to take the donkeys outside. ‘I just have to put in the letters for the Duke, collect my money and any correspondence to be sent to France, then we’re done here.’

Both donkeys seemed to sense their part was almost over and she had no difficulty leading them outside. A sudden flurry of wings in the trees sent her pulse racing. Were they discovered? In her panic she forgot to whisper.

‘Edward, there’s someone coming, something has disturbed the pigeons.’

He appeared—his finger to his lips in warning. He cocked his head, listening. A faint fluttering was still audible. The birds were restless. ‘We must hurry,’ he hissed, ‘it could be someone. Make sure you hang on tight. Grab the rope round his neck as we will be travelling back much faster.’ He spoke from close beside her.

He swung his leg over Thread’s shaggy grey back and Marianne barely had time to scramble onto Bobbin before both donkeys broke into a rapid bumpy trot heading across the clearing and into the welcome invisibility of the woods. The trees whipped past her face catching her painfully on the cheek several times. She realized she had to draw up her knees and crouch over the animal’s neck if she wished to avoid further injury.

Once she became accustomed to the lumpy stride she began to almost enjoy herself. Rushing down tiny tracks at the dead of night, wearing boy’s clothes was actually an exhilarating experience.

Then Bobbin swerved violently to avoid a rabbit hole and she felt herself slipping. Desperately she gripped harder and concentrated on staying aboard. Her mouth was dry and her heart threatening to jump out of her mouth. If she fell, how would Edward know? He was so far ahead he would never hear her cries for help. She would be alone in the dark with no idea how to get home.

The journey turned from excitement to horror. She clung on, praying desperately she would reach Thorrington Creek without further mishap. This was the longest ride of her life. The donkeys, apparently tireless, kept up their rapid trot, the route so well known to them they needed no moon to light their way.

When she thought she could bear no more, that she would surely fall, Bobbin’s pace began to slacken. Thank God, the nightmare was almost over! When he dropped to a rapid walk she rolled sideways onto the grass, her stomach roiling and remained prone, her face pressed into the damp grass, thanking her maker that she was once more on
terra firma
. The donkey vanished into the darkness but she could hear him greeting his stable mate.

Glad she did not have to walk far she turned over and pushed herself up. She became aware of the night sounds. There was the screech of a small owl, the rustle of a creature in the undergrowth, the sharp bark of a fox and the gentle slap of the water against the muddy shoreline.

She regained her feet and allowing her eyes to adjust again to the dark, set off to find Edward. The narrow path tucked in beside a thick hedge led directly to the field she sought. He was waiting for her.

‘That was an exciting ride. Did you enjoy it?’

She laughed. ‘No, I did not! I was terrified. If I’d fallen you would never have found me. I thought donkeys were sedentary beasts. Why do they rush back in that extraordinary way?’

‘Come into the shed and I’ll show you.’

She did as he asked, ducking through the small doorway. Edward, using the tinderbox, kindled a lantern. She stared round with interest. Apart from the tack they had removed earlier from their mounts there were several stout wooden boxes. He opened the lids with a flourish.

‘Oats—donkeys love them. There are also apples, carrots, potatoes—whatever I can find in the outhouse at home. Charles discovered they would hurry back if they knew a delicious feast awaited them.’

Marianne could hear them stamping and snuffling impatiently in the paddock outside eagerly anticipating the treat to come. Once the donkeys were contentedly munching she collected Sultan and saddled up.

‘What took you so long inside the old mill, Edward, I was becoming worried?’

‘I have to sweep the floor and scatter soil and dust before leaving. If anyone looked in the hoof prints would be a certain giveaway.’

‘Of course, I should have thought of that.’

Back on Sultan, Marianne finally relaxed; the danger was over and she could enjoy riding on a warm summer’s night with a good friend to keep her company. ‘Listen, can you hear the nightingales?’

They paused for a moment to enjoy the trills and soaring notes. Then chattering quietly they resumed their journey. They were about a mile from Frating Hall when Sultan threw up his head and whickered loudly.

Edward’s breath hissed between his teeth. ‘Customs men. It’s too late to hide; we’ll have to brazen it out. Keep moving, it’ll look suspicious otherwise. We are two young men back from the inn. You stay behind me and make sure no one sees your face.’

Marianne’s delight in the evening vanished. She sat down into the saddle and pulling her cap more firmly over her eyes she prayed. They heard voices and jangling bits and a group of five or six heavily armed men appeared in the lane in front of them.

Edward reined in. She urged her horse up behind him. A dark figure separated from the others and rode towards them.

‘Is that you Edward? What in the name of God are you doing prowling about at this time of night?’

Icy tremors shot down her spine at the sound of the all too familiar voice. Edward, however, relaxed. He believed he was facing a quite different man to the reality.

‘Sir Theodore? Cutting up a lark with the excise men? I’ve been visiting in Great Bentley—the parents are out, you know.’ It worked. A young man would use such an opportunity to get up to mischief.

Theo chuckled. ‘Then you have left your return a tad late, my boy. Lord and Lady Grierson arrived back some time ago. I suggest you keep your head low. Goodnight to you.’

All would have been well if Sultan had not greeted Lucifer as they rode past. Instantly suspicious Theo swung his horse across, blocking their escape. He leaned forward and Marianne heard his sharp intake of breath, but he said nothing, pulling aside to let them trot on.

Neither spoke until the horses were turned out and the tack replaced where it should be.

‘I’m sorry, Marianne, but Sir Theodore recognized you.’ He was stating the obvious.

‘Please, don’t remind me, Edward. For all his easygoing appearance my guardian is a stickler for the proprieties. He will rouse himself to ring a fine peal over us tomorrow.’

‘Surely not?’ Edward allowed this unpleasant news to sink in. ‘He will tell my father?’ She nodded. ‘Then there will be hell to pay in the morning. Thank God tonight was almost the end of it.’

‘Almost? I thought you said it was finished, that this was the last delivery?’

He patted his waistcoat. ‘It was, but remember I have these letters to deliver on the first, when the boat comes. Then it will be done.’

The side door was open, as they had left it, and they slipped in and returned, like ghosts, to their respective chambers. Marianne hastily removed her disguise, bitterly regretting her stupidity. She should not have ridden Sultan—a huge grey gelding was too distinctive. If she had taken any other horse they might have got away with it.

She bundled the boy’s garments into the bag they had come in then pushed them into the back of her closet. She blew out the single candle and climbed into bed. Even the sweet song of the nightingales had begun to pall when dawn’s pale light arrived.

* * * *

Jane, prompt as usual, came with her morning chocolate at eight o’clock. ‘Good heavens, miss, you startled me, sitting in the window like that. Have you been awake long?’

‘I could not sleep.’ She paused, considering, before continuing. ‘I have something shocking to tell you Jane. It will be your job to tell John when he returns, for I am too ashamed to do so myself.’

The jug or chocolate slopped over the edge as Jane set down the tray. ‘Whatever have you been up to, miss? What have you done that’s so bad? Had I better sit to hear this?’

Jane and John Smith had been like parents to her all her life and she both loved and respected them and told them everything. ‘Edward and Charles have been helping the smugglers. The money they earned each month has kept this household from ruin for the best part of two years. With Charles laid up I had to assist Edward last night and on my return Cousin Theo recognized me.’

‘Not with contraband?’

‘No, thank God, we were on our way home when we met the excise men. For some reason he was out with them otherwise all would have been well.’

‘I can hardly believe what you’ve told me. A few weeks ago you wouldn’t have considered doing such a rash thing. Your name’s not the only thing you’ve changed.’

‘I can’t understand myself. It is as though my life at Upton Manor never existed. It is extraordinary but I feel I have lived here, been part of this family, forever.’

Jane sniffed. ‘That’s as maybe, miss, but it doesn’t excuse last night’s behaviour. What were you thinking of to draw attention to yourself in such a way? You were sent here to avoid scandal, not become a smuggler.’

Marianne smiled. ‘Hardly that, Jane. If I had not helped Edward and Charles would have been exposed and the whole family brought to ruin. I could not refuse in those circumstances, could I?’

‘I suppose not. What will happen now? Did the customs men recognize you?’

‘No, only Cousin Theo did, but he said nothing. I’m certain none of them connected us with anything illegal. We were merely two young men returning from a jaunt somewhere.’

‘Then all may yet be well. You can sweet talk Sir Theodore, he will not stay cross for long—it might spoil the cut of his jacket.’

Marianne’s smile was false. ‘But he might inform Lord Grierson and Edward will be in hot water too.’

‘Serves him right. But Lord Grierson is a fair-minded man; he will not deal harshly with his boy. After all, taking a midnight ride is not such terrible thing, is it?’

Marianne swallowed. ‘Not for him, but if Sir Theodore tells Lord Grierson that he took me along, I shudder to think what will happen. Is Edward too old for a beating?’

‘Good heavens, yes, he’s as tall as Lord Grierson, a fully grown man almost. Don’t fret, it is not so bad. Indeed I expect you will soon be laughing about all this.’

* * * *

Later Edward appeared at her parlour, dressed smartly for a change. ‘I have had a summons to Bentley Hall. I expect I’ll get a bear garden jaw, but nothing worse—just remember we went out for a ride, nothing more, and we will come about safely.’

As he departed he reached into his pocket and handed her a note. She recognised the black scrawl instantly. With shaking hands she opened the paper and discovered that her guardian was sending his carriage to collect her at ten o’clock.

After an hour of nervous pacing it was time to leave. Jane had persuaded her to wear her most fetching outfit, a pale-gold sprigged muslin with an underskirt of russet damask. She knew it suited her to perfection and the tiny matching bonnet framed her face and made her eyes appear bigger. She hoped her appearance might soften Cousin Theo’s heart. She had, she believed, detected a decided glint in his eye when he looked at her sometimes, not dissimilar to the looks the military gentlemen had given her that fateful Saturday at Great Bentley.