The Ragged Heiress (29 page)

Lucetta gave him a direct look and dissolved into giggles as she saw the laughter in his eyes. ‘If we are going to play let’s pretend, then I choose to go first.’ She changed seats so that they were sitting side by side. ‘I will be the first Mrs Harcourt and you will find me a complete shrew, Giles. I will take every opportunity to complain. I will contradict everything you say and I will nag you until you wish that you had grounds for divorce.’

‘This I want to see,’ Mary said, clapping her hands. ‘You will be sorry you ever thought up this game, Giles.’

He took Lucetta’s hand and held it. ‘I look forward to every painful moment of being a hen-pecked husband.’

They broke the journey at a coaching inn on the outskirts of the town, and Lucetta took on the role of a peevish termagant so well that she caused some raised eyebrows. Mary seemed amused at first, but as they warmed to their roles she began to look uncomfortable and she begged them to stop, but Giles was obviously enjoying himself. He declared that his favourite play at school had been
The Taming of the Shrew
, and if Lucetta insisted on acting out the part, he might be forced to take sterner measures. Lucetta had also studied Shakespeare under the strict eye of Miss Jones and she would have taken on the challenge but for Crabtree, who appeared at the parlour door, respectfully suggesting that they continue the journey if they wanted to reach Exeter in time to book rooms for the night.

‘I think it’s just as well we stop the charade now,’ Mary said, as they left the inn. ‘You and Lucetta were much too convincing as an old married couple, Giles.’

Her tone was light, but Lucetta sensed the pain behind Mary’s words. ‘It was just play-acting,’ she murmured. ‘A silly old game, that’s all.’

‘Mary is right,’ Giles said, taking her by the arm. ‘We had better not carry on so at the next stop, or we might find ourselves asked to leave. Young Lucetta is too good an actress by far, don’t you think, my dear?’

Mary glanced at him over her shoulder as he assisted
her into the carriage. ‘And are you a good actor, Giles? I think you must be, since it was a most convincing performance.’

The sun might have come out, but the party was much more subdued as they travelled onwards into Devonshire. Giles closed his eyes and appeared to sleep for the rest of the journey and Mary lapsed into silence, staring out of the window at the gently rolling hills and wooded vales. Lucetta was left to her own thoughts and these inevitably turned to Sam. She tried to imagine their reunion, but she was even more nervous now and unsure of the outcome. When they reached the inn where they were to spend the night, she had to conquer the desire to beg Crabtree to turn the carriage around and head back to Stockton Lacey. She had come this far, she reasoned, and she would never forgive herself if she lost this opportunity to find her lost love.

They enjoyed a good meal in a private parlour and harmony was restored to their little group, with no mention of what had passed earlier that day. Giles was in good spirits, keeping them entertained with accounts of his exploits as a medical student, and Mary listened avidly, hanging on every word, although Lucetta was certain she must have heard it all before.

To her surprise, Lucetta had a good night’s sleep. She had expected to lie in the lumpy four-poster bed, tossing and turning into the small hours, but in reality she drifted off the moment her head touched the pillow. Next morning, they breakfasted on hot bread rolls fresh from the oven, smothered with butter, homemade
preserve and crowned with dollops of thick yellow clotted cream, washed down by excellent coffee. Giles declared himself to be a devotee of Devonshire food and he tipped the landlord handsomely as they left the inn.

Mary squeezed Lucetta’s hand as they settled down in the carriage on the last lap of their journey. ‘Not long now, Daisy dear. I’m sorry, I do try to call you Lucetta but today you have something of that lost look which I found so touching when you were in hospital.’

Lucetta managed a weak smile. ‘I’m nervous, that’s all. And I don’t mind being called Daisy. I think it’s a sweet name.’

‘Sweet, indeed,’ Giles said, grinning. ‘We will call our first daughter Daisy.’ He paused and his smile faded as he met Mary’s stern gaze. ‘I’m sorry. I had lapsed into play-acting again.’

Mary turned her back on him and she took Lucetta’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. ‘When you meet your Sam again he will be able to confirm your true identity. It may not satisfy your Uncle Bradley, but it might encourage others who knew you to admit the truth.’

Lucetta nodded wordlessly; so much depended on this reunion. Her whole life seemed to be hanging in the balance. She sat in silence for most of the way, lost in her own thoughts, oblivious to Mary’s cheerful chatter and leaving the responses to Giles.

The county lanes grew narrower and the banks steeper as they drew closer to Salcombe. The striking beauty of the area took Lucetta’s breath away as they crested the brow of the hill and descended into a wide,
wooded inlet. As the landau threaded its way through the narrow village streets, she was in a fever of anticipation. Her heart thumped at an alarming rate against the whalebone prison of her stays and she was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. Her palms were sticky with perspiration and her mouth was dry as Crabtree drew the carriage to a halt and went to make enquiries at an inn. He returned minutes later, smelling suspiciously of ale which suggested that he had downed a pint in a great hurry. He said the inn had no letting rooms, but he had been given particulars of a hostelry on the outskirts of the village which could offer adequate stabling for the horses and superior accommodation suitable for the young ladies.

Lucetta fumed inwardly at the delay and had to resist the temptation to leap out of the carriage and make her way to Cutler’s Boatyard on foot, but a sympathetic pat on the arm from Mary persuaded her to be patient for just a while longer. She suffered the rest of the journey in a fever of nervous excitement, and when Mary exclaimed at the beauty of the sandy cove that stretched out before them, Lucetta merely nodded in agreement. At any other time she would have been enthusiastic about the view, but at this particular moment she was too preoccupied with her own thoughts to care.

The landlord came out to greet them and Giles ordered a light luncheon to be brought to the parlour while their rooms were made ready. Food was the last thing on Lucetta’s mind, and she was tempted to raise an objection, but Mary was so enthusiastic about the
quaint charm of their surroundings that Lucetta had once again to contain her impatience. She made a brave attempt to eat, but she had little appetite. When the meal was over, Giles suggested that they hired a fishing boat. In discussion with the landlord he had discovered that fishermen often ferried visitors to the village, obviating the necessity to travel the steep and tortuous lanes.

The sea was the colour of blue-green glass tipped with foamy white spume as a brisk breeze filled the sails and sent the small boat scudding across the water. Lucetta could taste the salt on her lips and the wind whipped tendrils of hair into wild disarray around her forehead, but she had more important concerns than her appearance as the old fisherman skilfully brought his craft alongside the stone steps leading up to the quay. Her feet barely seemed to touch the ground as they walked the short distance to the end of the street where a sign advertised the site of Cutler’s Boatyard. She felt as though the breath had been sucked out of her lungs as they descended the stone steps to the foreshore.

There was no one in sight, and if it had not been for the sound of hammering emanating from the half-completed hull of a fishing vessel, Lucetta would have thought that the yard was deserted. The smell of fresh sawdust took her back to Wilkinson’s timber yard and the days following her escape from Stranks and Guthrie. It was not a happy reminder, and she was seized by a sudden and inexplicable sense of foreboding.

Mary touched her gently on the arm. ‘There’s a shack of some sort over there, behind that great pile of wooden planks. I think I saw someone moving inside.’

Lucetta glanced at Giles, but he was taking a closer look at the vessel under construction and he appeared to have lost interest in their mission. She braced her shoulders. ‘Well, I won’t find anything out by standing here.’ She picked up her skirts, and treading carefully around crates of nails, kedges and coils of rope she made her way towards the wooden shed. She was about to climb the steps to knock on the door when it was wrenched open by a man with his shirtsleeves rolled up to expose sinewy, tattooed forearms. He stared at her with a less than friendly expression on his rugged features. ‘Well? What’s your business here, maidy? This is a boatyard, not a tea shop.’

Lucetta took an involuntary step backwards. ‘I was looking for Mr Cutler. Can you tell me where to find him, sir?’

He leapt from the top step to stand beside her, and his sandy brows drew together in an ominous frown. ‘Who wants him?’

‘My business is with Mr Sam Cutler or his father, if he is about.’

‘You’ll have to go to the churchyard to find Bill Cutler. He’s been dead these past twenty years.’

His hazel eyes glinted with something like humour, or it could have been malice; Lucetta was not sure which and this unnerved her even more, but she eyed him steadily, refusing to be cowed by his aggressive
attitude. ‘It’s Samuel Cutler I wanted to see. Is he here?’ She heard her voice waver and she clasped her hands tightly behind her back so that the unfriendly man would not see how they trembled.

‘It wouldn’t have anything to do with a letter, would it?’ he demanded, angling his head.

The sun had gone in but for a brief moment it forced its way between gathering rainclouds. Lucetta caught her breath to see the man’s sweat-darkened hair glint with russet tones so similar to Sam’s that she was certain they must be related. ‘Are you his brother by any chance?’

He threw back his head and his laughter echoed off the granite quay wall. ‘You’m a persistent young maid, to be sure. Well, you’ve had a wasted journey. Sam isn’t here and he can rot in hell for all I care.’

‘Hold on, mister.’ Giles came striding over the mud to stand by Lucetta’s side. ‘What’s this fellow been saying to you? I don’t like his tone.’

Mary hurried towards them, her face pale and pinched with anxiety. ‘Is everything all right, Lucetta?’

‘Quite all right, don’t worry,’ Lucetta said firmly. ‘This gentleman was just telling me that Sam is not welcome here, although he hasn’t had the good manners to introduce himself or to give me a reasonable explanation.’

‘What have you to say for yourself?’ Giles demanded angrily. ‘This is no way to treat a young lady who has travelled many miles to see her fiancé.’

‘Fiancé! Bah! Let me tell you this, mate. Samuel Cutler is like all seafarers. Haven’t you heard they have a
woman in every port? He may be my cousin but I won’t have anything to do with him, and I don’t know where he is. Now go away the lot of you and leave us be.’

‘It’s not true,’ Lucetta cried, grabbing him by the sleeve. ‘You can’t just say things like that and walk away. What is your name, sir? Or haven’t you got one?’

He turned on her with a scornful curl of his lips. ‘I’m Seth Cutler, and my father took Sam in when his ma and pa were drowned. Brought him up like one of his own, he did, and little or no thanks he got for it. Sam is bad news, maidy. You’m better off without him.’

Lucetta was not going to give in so easily. ‘You mentioned my letter. Did he receive it?’

‘It went on the fire,’ Seth hissed. ‘Dora read it and threw it into the flames. She watched it burn to ashes like the promises Sam made her before he went off to sea.’

Mary clasped Lucetta’s arm. ‘Come away. You don’t have to listen to this madman.’

‘Yes,’ Giles added, hooking his arm around Lucetta’s shoulders. ‘We should leave now.’

Lucetta shook free from them, facing Seth squarely with her chin raised. ‘What are you saying? Who is Dora? I must know.’

‘She is my wife now. I done the honourable thing and married the wench when Sam deserted her. That’s the sort of man he is.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ Lucetta gasped. ‘I won’t believe it unless I hear it from your wife’s lips.’

Seth took a step towards her, fisting his hands at his side. ‘Leave my Dora out of this. Go back to London-town or wherever it is you come from. There’s nothing but trouble for you in these parts.’ He turned away and stomped off towards the vessel where he climbed a ladder and disappeared inside the hull.

Giles took Lucetta by the hand. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘And I too,’ Mary said, choking back a sob. ‘I wish we’d never come here.’

‘He must be lying,’ Lucetta whispered. ‘I don’t believe a word of it.’

‘We’ll go back to the inn,’ Giles said gently. ‘It’s too late to start out for home, but we’ll leave first thing in the morning.’

Lucetta shook her head. ‘No, I can’t go without speaking to Dora. I must find out the truth, no matter how painful it is.’

Giles opened his mouth as if to protest, but Mary laid her hand on his arm. ‘She’s right, Giles. If I were in the same position I would want to know the worst.’

Lucetta was not going to argue. She made her way back towards the stone steps leaving Giles and Mary little alternative but to follow her. When she reached street level she paused, realising that she had no idea where Seth Cutler lived. Small children were playing on the pavement and Lucetta picked out the eldest, a handsome little fellow with auburn hair and large hazel eyes. She approached him with what she hoped was a friendly smile. ‘Hello there, young man.’

The boy, who could not have been much older than three or four, stared at her open-mouthed.

She tried again. ‘I’m looking for Mrs Cutler. Do you know where I might find her?’

The child opened his mouth and began to howl.

‘No, please don’t cry,’ Lucetta said, laying her hand on his thin shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. ‘I won’t hurt you.’

‘Hey, there. Leave my boy alone.’

The sound of running footsteps made Lucetta spin round to see a young woman racing across the cobblestones with her fair hair flying out behind her like a flag, and a sobbing baby in her arms.