Moon Love (11 page)

Cocker stood a moment, undecided. Then he said, “Seeing as how it’s for England, I’ll let you in on a little something, but you didn’t hear it from Jack Cocker. Kirby and his boys are doing very well for themselves. Yessir, very well indeed. Joe’s bought up a half interest in a pub, and his right hand man bought ten acres of orchard off the Nevils. Silk don’t bring in that kind of money.” He shook his head in dismay. “Fools, flaunting it like that. It turns law-abiding folks agin us. I put my blunt into Consols.”

“Any idea when they might be bringing in another load?”

“We share the dark nights. I brought in my load night before last. He’ll bring his before the moon waxes much. Maybe tonight.”

Ravencroft clapped him on the back. “Thanks, Cocker,” he said with a grin. “And by the way, that barrel you sold me was excellent stuff.”

Cocker’s huge chest expanded, threatening the bone buttons on his shirt. “I only deal in the best.”

Ravencroft left, already planning what he must do that night.

At Bratty Hall, Amy was also making plans. She knew that Cocker wasn’t bringing in the paper money. She also knew that Joe Kirby was the other likely suspect, and that he used her papa’s bay. His men came from the far side of Easton, however, and she had no acquaintances amongst them. If she were to discover anything, she would have to hide nearby the next time they were bringing in a load. She couldn’t use the rock that overlooked the bay; Kirby would have his spotsman stationed there. She would have to be far enough away or well enough concealed to avoid detection, yet close enough to watch and overhear. There were other rocks nearby, and one deformed old fir tree.

She didn’t believe the common smugglers knew what was coming in along with their cargo of silk. Joe would keep that dangerous information and the profits for himself. Perhaps he would need one other trusted ally.

She didn’t even know what sort of container was used for the cargo. Not barrels, presumably, but some sort of packing cases. One of them would hold not silk but paper, and it would be carried to Alphonse’s distributor. That case must be marked in some way to distinguish it from the others. If she could discern the mark, she would only have to keep an eye on one case.

She had no idea where the silk was stored, or how it was distributed. She must watch and follow when the cases were hauled away from the coast. It promised to be a long night, for she would have to be there to conceal herself well before the Gentlemen arrived. As George was now in her confidence, she would enlist his help.

It would be not only dangerous, but also tedious waiting for the lugger to come in. But it would be worth it all to take her findings and throw them in Lord Ravencroft’s arrogant, sneering face. But first she had to learn when the next load of silk might be arriving. The Gentlemen worked at the dark of the moon, when there was no moon at all, or only a sliver.

Cocker had already brought in his load. Had the silk smuggler made his run as well? If not, he would come very soon. Now who would know that? She sat frowning a moment over her coffee, then a sly smile curved her lips. Of course! Miss More, the local seamstress, who also dealt with contraband silk for her genteel customers. She would order a new silk gown this very day, and be dissatisfied with all the materials in the shop. That would tell her when new stuff was expected.

Before leaving, she went upstairs to spend a few moments with her father. These were the saddest times of her day, to see that fine old gentleman sunk to such a state. But his work would go on. That was her consolation, and her repayment of the large debt of gratitude she owed him.

He was always at his best after breakfast, before the fatigue of living – and dying – settled in. He was at the window, looking out at the birds with his rheumy eye glued to his telescope, “Ah there is the life, Nanny,” he said, taking her hand and squeezing it. “I wish I were a little bird who could fly like a kite. Where is my kite, Nanny? The red and blue one Papa gave me for my birthday.”

She talked nonsense to him for a quarter of an hour, then left him to Tombey’s ministrations. As the day was fine, she decided to ride into Easton, taking George as her footman. That would give them privacy to discuss her plans.

She was thwarted in that scheme. Felix had come down to breakfast by the time she returned belowstairs, and told her he would go with her into Easton. This meant taking the carriage, which meant she would have to arrange another plan for her meeting with George.

As they drove into Easton she quizzed Felix to hear his version of his meeting with Ravencroft the night before.

“I fancy I was able to steer him in the right direction,” he said grandly. “There
are terrible plans afoot in London, Amy. Anarchy and bloodshed that will make France’s little peasant uprising seem a mere skirmish in comparison. I am happy you are here, safely away from it all. The violence will spread, I expect, but fear not, I shall remain here at Bratty Hall to look after my people.”

She translated this to mean he wished to be safely away from the imagined bloodshed of the royal assassination. His presence was a further obstacle in her path, but she could always manage Felix. No doubt he would spend many evenings at the Rose and Thistle with Blanche.

“I would like to go on to Miss More’s house to order a new gown,” she said. “Her place is a little past the shops.”

“Excellent. I’ll go with you, to lend you the benefit of my advice. I am a bit of a dab at costume.”

“Would you not like to go on the strut, Felix?” she suggested, to be rid of him.

No, it seemed there was nothing he would rather do than help her choose a new gown. As she could make her queries under his nose without his suspecting her reason, she let him tag along. He sat in a corner studying patterns while Amy spoke to the modiste.

As it turned out, she didn’t have to make any queries. Miss More, a twittery, bird-like little woman, fast and jerky in her movements, blurted out what Amy wished to hear without being asked. “I haven’t an ell of silk on the shelf. Nothing but twelve inches of black, which would be of no use to you, Miss Bratty. My only hope of selling it is if some widow requires new caps.”

“Pity,” Amy said. “When do you think you will be getting another shipment?”

Miss More peered around the shop, lifted her fingers to conceal her words from the walls, and whispered, “Day after tomorrow at the latest, with luck, tomorrow, if it doesn’t rain too hard tonight.”

This was as good as telling Amy the Gentlemen would be receiving a shipment that night. Amy said she would return soon, and after listening to Felix’s advice
as to which pattern she should choose – a gown such as Blanche might wear, cut low at the bodice and much burdened with lace and ribbons – they left.

As the day was fine, they went on the strut on the High Street. Felix, an eligible bachelor and soon to be Lord Ashworth, was a popular figure, especially with the young ladies.

Miss Spencer, the town’s acknowledged beauty, complete with blond curls, blue eyes and dimples, stopped for a chat. “I heard you are at the Hall, Mr. Bratty,” she said, batting her inch long lashes at him. “I am very angry that you have not called on me.”

“I have had serious business affairs weighing on my mind,” he replied.

“Ah, and how is your uncle?”

“Uncle? Oh, he is hanging on like a barnacle. I was referring to affairs of state,” he said, assuming his hero’s expression.

Miss Spencer was no more interested in affairs of state than in building a steam engine. “You must come to tea one day soon and tell me all about it.” She turned to Amy and added perfunctorily, “And you must come too, Miss Bratty, of course.”

“That sounds delightful,” Felix said.

“Will you be attending the assembly tomorrow evening?”

“Assembly?” he asked, his eyes shining. Not even the prospect of a royal assassination could dim the pleasure of a dancing party. “You didn’t mention an assembly, Amy. Where is it to be held?”

“The autumn assembly is always held at the Greenman Inn,” Miss Spencer informed him. She was about to invite him to dine with her family before the assembly when she spotted an even more interesting gentleman on the other side of the street.

The grapevine had already informed her the gentleman was Mr. Stanford, that he meant to buy a house nearby and that he had dined with Felix the evening before, but she was too sly to reveal her rampant interest.

She directed her next speech to Amy. “This seems to be a new gentleman in town,” she said nonchalantly. “I have heard his name is Stanton or some such thing.”

Ravencroft spotted Amy and crossed the street to join the group. Amy had not much cared that Miss Spencer outdid her in beauty and elegance before Ravencroft’s arrival. She was suddenly aware that her hair was too wiry, her body too thin, that her eyes lacked lashes and her two year old bonnet had never been elegant.

As Felix made the introductions, “Mr. Stanford” lifted his curled beaver, and Amy was relieved to see that his unbandaged wound was already healing. It was pretty well concealed by his hair. Ravencroft
’
s sharp eyes ran over Miss Spencer and concluded she was the town beauty. He paid her the traditional homage of a little flirtation. When he noticed the effect of this on Amy, he ladled the butter on more liberally, until Miss Spencer was convinced she had made a conquest.

“I’m sure you will find us very boring here in the provinces, Mr. Stanford,” she said, lashes batting furiously, “but at least we can offer a little assembly tomorrow evening at the Greenman.”

“I have seen the notices and am looking forward to it. May I have the pleasure of standing up with you, Miss Spencer?”

“Oh indeed, sir, I would be honored.”

Miss Spencer was torn between staying and chatting
as long as she could hold Mr. Stanford’s interest, and rushing off to tell her mama and her girlfriends. When she espied two of her friends hastening forward to meet the new buck in town, she took her leave and went to meet them, to avoid having to share him.

“Congratulations, milord,” Amy said. “You have made a conquest. Take care or Felix will be jealous of you.”

“Charming gel, but her dot is only three thousand,” Felix said, his eyes trailing after her. “Who is that dark haired lass she is talking to, Amy?”

Amy looked. “That is Mrs. Kell’s niece, who is visiting her from Taunton.”

“I shall just step along and say hello.” He rushed off.

“Now it is your turn to be jealous,” Ravencroft said. “Take care or Miss Kell will snatch Bratty away from you.”

Amy didn’t deign to reply to this. They just stood, looking at each other in uncomfortable silence, each wondering whether to refer to the important doings they were involved in.

At length he said, “Well, what have you been up to?”

She studied him a moment. “Why do you ask? Have you come a cropper, milord?”

“Not at all. I have matters well in hand.”

“Excellent. Then I shan’t have to worry that you are behindhand on any important doings.”

He didn’t trust that smug expression. “If you know anything, it is your duty to tell me.”

She gave an impish grin. “What could I possibly have discovered, sitting in my corner, stitching?”

Her glinting smile disturbed him greatly, but as she was passing her morning on the strut with her cousin, he concluded she was teasing him. Or had she come to town for some other reason? “What brings you to Easton?” he asked, trying for a friendly tone.

“I came to order a new gown.”

He smiled, pleased with her answer. He even attempted a little joke. “I have been in the drapery shop and noticed they hadn’t any silk on their shelves, or I would suspect you of tampering with my affairs, trying to discover who supplies it.”

“The affairs of the nation hardly belong to you, and no one else! But I shall just give you a little hint. We don’t buy our silk from McGillicuddy, milord. He is not the one who sells it in Easton. Now if you had the benefit of a lady’s expertise, you would have known that.”

His gathering frown told her he was preparing a stiff rebuke. Before he could deliver it, she continued, “Ah, I see Felix is finished flirting. I must run along now. I look forward to seeing you at the assembly.” She hesitated a moment then, but when he didn’t ask her to save him a dance, she said, “Good day,” rather stiffly, and left.

She had the pleasure of leaving him with a scowl on his face. It evaporated as he hurried after Miss Spencer. Amy was quite vexed with him, until she figured out that he was only trying to discover who was the purveyor of silk in Easton.

Chapter Thirteen

After lunch, Amy used the excuse of wanting to have some furniture rearranged in one of the guest rooms to secure privacy with George. She outlined her plans for the evening.

He listened, then said eagerly, “I’ll take a scout along that stretch of beach this afternoon, Miss Bratty, and choose the best hiding spot for us.”

“We need not be right together,” she pointed out. “Let us not put both eggs in one basket. I must overhear what is said. I want you nearby to come to my aid in case of trouble.”

There was a possibility of real trouble with Joe Kirby’s gang. They might not recognize Lord Ashworth’s daughter if they apprehended her. Even if they did, it was no guarantee of safety. Kirby was a traitor, he would be determined to protect himself. Yes, there could be real trouble.

“I’ll take his lordship’s pistols. Where do we meet, and at what hour?”

“The luggers never arrive until after midnight,” she told him. “Have the mounts outside the library door at half past ten. We’ll ride halfway and go the last part on foot. We don’t want to worry about horses neighing to give us away. Bring the dark lantern and wear something warm, George. It will be chilly by the water.”

When the vicar’s wife called in the afternoon to discuss the Christmas pageant put on by the children of the local dame school, Felix excused himself and rode off to pay some calls. It was the custom for the school children to be driven to Bratty Hall on a hay wagon after the pageant for a party and a little present. Mrs. Ladd went over the list of children with Amy, suggesting gifts and likely makers of the woolen mittens, hats and scarves that she considered suitable. Each year it came
as a delightful ‘surprise’ to Mrs. Ladd that Amy had also included a toy for each child.