The Secret Kiss of Darkness (2 page)

Devon 1781

The path leading up to Marcombe Hall from the coast was steep but Jago Kerswell took it in his stride. Two casks of brandy roped together were slung over his powerful shoulders, bumping his chest and back at every step, but even with this extra load he carried on as if he was out for a Sunday stroll. The darkness was almost absolute, as the sliver of a moon had disappeared behind thick clouds, and he could see only vague outlines of trees and bushes along the path. The deep shadows had cloaked the nefarious activity he and his fellow smugglers had been engaged upon this night and all had gone well. Jago was pleased.

With the surefootedness of an animal with night vision, he continued up the steep incline. He knew these paths like the back of his hand and had no need to see where he was going. He could have done it blindfolded. As he neared the edge of the gardens of the Hall, he calculated rapidly how much profit would be made from tonight’s run. A grin of satisfaction tugged at the corners of his mouth. Even after Sir John had received his cut for turning a blind eye – the two casks Jago was carrying – Jago’s men and their families would live well for a while, once the contraband had been sold in London. Some of the goods were even now making their way towards Lambeth, while the rest would await their turn in various hiding places. He almost chuckled out loud. If the good Reverend Mountford knew what the bottom of his pulpit contained he would have an apoplexy.

Still lost in thought, Jago turned the corner of a hedge and was almost knocked off balance as a small white shape hurtled into him with tremendous speed. He gasped and came to an abrupt halt.

‘Oh, ow!’ From the sound of the voice he deduced it was a female, and her forehead had connected violently with the cask hanging in front of him. She ricocheted back to land on her backside with a thud. Jago heard her moan softly.

‘Damnation woman! What are you doing out in the middle of the night? Have you no sense?’ Jago hissed. Anger warred with compassion as he hefted the casks over his head and set them down onto the ground next to her. He stretched out a hand, encountered an arm and pulled her upright. ‘Are you badly hurt? Let me see, please.’ Since he couldn’t actually see anything, he reached out and found her forehead. Gently, belying his angry words, he pried loose her hands, and his questing fingers felt a large protrusion. She sucked in her breath and jerked her head away.

‘It … it’s nothing, sir,’ she stammered, trying to back away from him. He gripped her right shoulder with one hand to prevent her from leaving.

‘My lady,’ he began, for indeed it could be none other than the lady of Marcombe Hall herself, as she was the only woman in the neighbourhood who spoke with such cultured accents. ‘I don’t know what possessed you to go wandering about the gardens in the middle of the night, but I would suggest you return to the house immediately. And find something to put on that egg you’re now sporting on your forehead. A piece of raw meat might do the trick. Even so, I fear you’ll have some explaining to do tomorrow.’

She shook his hand off impatiently and succeeded only because he let her. ‘Thank you for your advice, sir, but I am going for a walk along the cliffs.’ Her voice was trembling, but sounded haughty and defiant, with an almost desperate undertone.

‘A walk? Now? In nothing but your shift? Really, my lady, I don’t think—’

‘I’m not concerned with what you think, my good man, and besides I am wearing a perfectly respectable gown. Well, I’ve brought my shawl anyway, and who’s to tell in the dark? Now, why don’t you return to your own business before you are caught and leave me to get on with mine.’ She turned away from him, but stopped as he spoke again.

‘You know what I’m doing?’

‘Certainly I do. You’re a smuggler. Why else would you be carrying brandy kegs about your person in the middle of the night?’

‘We prefer to think of ourselves as free-traders, my lady.’ He chuckled briefly, amused by her bravado. ‘Be that as it may, have you given any thought to the fact that I might not be the only one about this night? Free-traders operate in groups and most of them are a rough lot. There’s no saying what they might do if they catch sight of a lone female wandering about the cliffs in her night clothes.’

She let out a mirthless little laugh. ‘I am past caring,’ she replied airily. ‘I can’t stay in that house another minute. Anyway,’ she muttered, ‘they can do no worse than John, I suppose.’ She started to walk away once more, passing him with a swish of soft material that brushed against his breeches, but he caught up with her within seconds, and turned her around abruptly by means of a vice-like grip on her arm.

‘What exactly has my sainted brother done now?’ he growled. ‘Is he beating you?’

‘Your brother? What has he to do with anything?’ She struggled to free herself again, but her puny efforts went unheeded as this time he held fast.

‘Your husband, my lady, is my half-brother. Perhaps he forgot to mention that?’

She stilled instantly. ‘Half-brother? But … but what … how? I don’t understand. You are a smuggler and John is … well, he is …’

It was his turn to laugh. ‘I beg your pardon, my lady, I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I am but a bastard. Sir John’s father sired me after his wife had died, but of course your husband has never acknowledged the relationship openly. I thought he might at least have told his own wife, but obviously I was wrong. You had better not refer to it.’

The thin moon came out briefly and he saw that she stood rooted to the spot, peering into the darkness as if seeking enlightenment. Finally she said, ‘You’re telling the truth?’

‘Why should I lie about being a bastard? Ask anyone hereabouts, they’ll tell you exactly what happened. It wasn’t a secret at the time.’ He let go of her arm and made her an exaggerated bow, although as the moon had disappeared once more she probably couldn’t see him. ‘Jago Kerswell, at your service, my lady. I’m the proprietor of the King’s Head Inn down in the village. Feel free to make enquiries about me.’

‘No, no, I believe you. Indeed, why should you lie?’

‘As you say. Now tell me, please, Lady … what’s your name?’

‘Elizabeth. Eliza to my family.’

‘Very well, Lady Eliza …’

‘No, no, Mr Kerswell, you can’t call me that. I’m not a lady in my own right. I’m Lady Marcombe only by virtue of my husband being a “Sir”.’

‘And I’m a free-trader, Lady Eliza, I don’t concern myself with such niceties. Now where was I? Oh, yes, tell me what my dear brother has been up to. Is he cruel to you? Is that why nobody ever sees you out and about? You are ashamed of the bruises?’

There was no immediate reply but he heard her draw in a sharp breath as if he’d hit upon an uncomfortable truth.

‘Lady Eliza?’ he prompted, his voice stern, but kind.

‘I … that is, I would prefer not to speak of such things to a stranger.’

‘Stranger? But have we not just established I’m family?’ He hoped she could hear that he was smiling, but thinking about the topic of discussion he grew serious once more. ‘Now, come, my dear lady, tell me what made you dash into the night in such a fashion? I really can’t permit my sister-in-law to wander about alone.’

To his utter dismay the lady didn’t answer him, but burst into tears. Absolute floods of tears at that, and Jago began to wish he’d kept his mouth shut for once. If there was one thing he had no idea how to cope with, it was a woman crying.

‘Oh hell! Begging your pardon, but …’ He ran a hand distractedly through his hair, which was dishevelled enough from the sea breeze already and coming loose from its queue. This was not turning out to be such a perfect night after all. He had exulted too soon. Well, there was only one thing he could possibly do under the circumstances.

With a sigh, he put his arms around Lady Eliza and pulled her close, rocking her like a child and whispering soothing words. The sobs racked her small body for a considerable time, but he did nothing to stop them. He knew it was cleansing, she had to let the anguish out. Only then could he find its cause. And find it he must.

‘Where on earth have you been? I was going to take you out for lunch today since it’s the only day I’m free this week.’ The impatient voice of her boss, Mike Russell, greeted Kayla as she entered the office and she stared at him in surprise.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, you should have said.’ She managed to answer him in a fairly calm and reasonable tone, despite the fact that she was still shaking from her recent ordeal. ‘But today was the auction, remember? I did tell you I was going. That’s why I took the morning off.’

‘Oh, the auction. Damn, I’d forgotten. Sorry.’ He frowned and raked long fingers through his fair hair, making it stand on end, then bent to kiss her when no one else was looking. Mike wasn’t just her boss, he was her fiancé as well, but ever since he’d been made a partner in the law firm they both worked for, he had become self-conscious about open displays of affection.

‘We really must be seen to act professionally at all times now I’m a senior member of staff,’ he’d told Kayla, and although she privately thought that surely it didn’t matter since everyone knew they were a couple anyway, she had reluctantly gone along with this. Today, however, it irritated her, but she didn’t say anything. It wasn’t Mike’s fault she was a trembling wreck after all.

Kayla hung up her coat on a hanger behind the door and shook out her shoulder-length hair before sinking down onto the seat behind her desk. To occupy her still shaking hands, she sorted through the day’s workload, while taking deep breaths to calm her erratic heartbeat.

‘Which tape do you want me to do first? This one?’ she asked. There were two piles of files, each with a small audio cassette perched on top, and she pointed to the nearest one.

‘What? Oh, it doesn’t matter. Either. They’ve both got to be finished before this evening.’ He still seemed a bit irritated and Kayla knew he hated to have his plans disrupted, but honestly, he hadn’t mentioned anything about lunch. Or had he? A flash of guilt shot through her. She had been rather preoccupied these last two weeks …

It was all Auntie Emily’s fault. She had died just before Christmas and left all her nephews and nieces a legacy of fifteen thousand pounds each. Kayla’s portion had arrived in her bank account only two weeks previously, and she had by then decided what she wanted to do with the money.

‘I think I’ll buy myself a painting or an antique. Something which will increase in value, but at the same time be decorative,’ she’d told Mike. Even though it was her money to do with as she wished, she thought it best to at least discuss the matter with him. After all, everything they had would soon be owned jointly once they were married.

‘Are you sure?’ he asked. ‘Don’t you think it would be better to invest it in shares or something? It takes years before you can sell an antique and make a profit, but with shares you would receive regular dividends.’

Deep down Kayla knew he was right. It would be a more practical option, but something inside her rebelled against the idea. It seemed mercenary and clinical and she was sure Auntie Emily had meant for her to enjoy her legacy by indulging herself in one way or another.

‘No, I want something I can see. Something to remind me of Auntie Em,’ she insisted.

‘Well, I suppose I can’t stop you. It’s your money after all.’ Mike’s displeasure had been clear, but for once Kayla ignored him. It
was
her money and she intended to spend it her way.

Her mind made up, Kayla had gone to visit Sotheby’s, the famous auction house, which was only a few streets away from the solicitor’s office in Mayfair where she and Mike worked. She’d passed the building almost every day on her way to work, but had never entered it before. As she approached this ancient establishment for the first time, it was with a slight feeling of trepidation.

Just inside the double doors was a small, dark foyer, where a uniformed doorman greeted her. She smiled at him hesitantly and continued straight on into the main reception area, which was spacious and bright. There was a large desk in the middle of one wall and Kayla almost tiptoed over, feeling seriously out of place.

‘Excuse me, but do you have a calendar of upcoming auctions, please?’ she asked the lady on duty.

‘Yes, of course, madam.’ She was handed a little leaflet and sat down on a red leather sofa to have a look at it.

It seemed there would be a sale of British paintings within the next two weeks, and Kayla thought it best to buy the catalogue. She almost fainted when she was told the price, but didn’t have the nerve to tell the lady she thought it too expensive, so she paid quickly and left.

Most of the paintings listed in the catalogue were way above her means, but Kayla went back to have a look the next day anyway. As she mounted the U-shaped staircase, which led upstairs to the viewing galleries on the first floor, the excitement took hold and she started to enjoy herself. She walked slowly round the rooms, stopping from time to time in front of a particularly lovely piece of art. There were some pretty landscapes, but nothing that really caught her fancy and none of them gave her that instant urge to buy.

Until she entered the last room.

‘Kayla? Kayla, hello, anyone in there?’ Mike’s voice brought her back to the present with a jolt.

‘What? Sorry, I was thinking about something.’

‘I
said
did you buy anything then?’ He was frowning slightly and drumming his fingers on her desk while waiting for her reply. It was a habit she was used to, as he wasn’t the most patient of men, but today Kayla had to restrain the urge to smack them into silence.
God, what’s the matter with me?
She took another deep breath to calm herself. It was unlike her to be so irritable, especially with Mike.

‘Yes, as a matter of fact I did. I bought a painting.’ She felt a guilty blush spread over her cheeks as she remembered exactly how much she had paid for it, but Mike didn’t notice.

‘Great,’ he said, as if her answer hadn’t really interested him much, and returned to their previous topic of conversation. ‘So, can we have dinner instead? I’ve hardly seen you all week. I’m sure there must be a thousand things we should be discussing with regard to the wedding. It’s not long now.’

‘Yes, I know. Five weeks and three days.’ She smiled up at him and he shook his head at her. Kayla’s count down amused him. She was sure he was just as impatient for their big day to arrive, although she knew he only wanted it out of the way since the whole process was disrupting his orderly life and the endless planning that was necessary drove him crazy. She swallowed a sigh. Mike wasn’t much of a romantic, but then all males probably thought of weddings as a palaver so he wasn’t unique.

Unusually, though, a sense of panic shot through Kayla as the words echoed round her brain. Five weeks and three days? That wasn’t very long at all. Before this business with the painting, her pre-wedding nerves had been growing steadily as she counted down the days, but she knew it was normal. Today, however, she wondered for the first time why she’d been in such a rush. There was no particular reason why they’d had to marry so quickly. No, what was she thinking? They’d wanted to get married as soon as possible. She shook herself mentally and concentrated on the man in front of her, who was looking at her with raised brows, obviously waiting for a reply again.

‘Uhm, I have a bit of a headache today and it looks like you’ve left me plenty to do here. I might have to work late,’ she prevaricated. ‘And tomorrow I’ve promised to go out with Maddie and you’ve got that dinner at the—’

‘Oh, yes. Well, I’d hoped to spend some time with you tonight, but maybe I’ll go for a pint with the guys upstairs instead then. You haven’t forgotten the party on Saturday, though?’

Kayla almost laughed. ‘No, of course not.’ As if she could possibly have forgotten about the party his parents were holding in their honour. A gathering of the Russell clan to inspect the latest addition to see if she would pass muster, she thought with an inward grimace. She’d been worrying for weeks about what to wear, but suddenly it didn’t seem to matter.

She gave him a placating smile and took hold of his hand, which was still hovering above her desk, giving it a squeeze. ‘I’m sorry, Mike. I would have loved to go out tonight, but soon we’ll be together every evening, won’t we? Once the wedding is over and done with and I’ve moved into your flat, we’ll have plenty of time for ourselves.’

‘Yes, you’re right.’ He bent over the desk to give her another quick kiss, after first looking around again. Kayla felt another twinge of annoyance. What did it matter if anyone saw them? They’d soon be man and wife.

‘I’d better get on with this.’ She put on the audio headphones and inserted the first tape into the machine, effectively ending the conversation, but Mike hadn’t quite finished and tapped her on the shoulder. Reluctantly she freed her ears.

‘Yes?’

‘Don’t forget to do that Local Authority search for the Peterson’s house and send it off with the right payment. I promised them it would be done today.’

‘It’s on my list of things to do.’ Kayla gritted her teeth against another sudden wave of irritation as Mike disappeared into his office. She had been a legal secretary for seven years and knew as well as he did what needed to be done, but since his promotion he seemed to feel the need to reinforce his role as the boss from time to time. Sometimes, just sometimes, he annoyed the hell out of her. Another small doubt entered her mind, shattering her former confidence. Was she doing the right thing in marrying him?

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, don’t be silly,’ she muttered. ‘Of course you are.’

Kayla dismissed her doubts as pre-wedding jitters, switched on the tape and started to type. Mike’s voice droned on, dictating the same kind of letters she had typed a hundred times before, so she continued on automatic and let her thoughts return to her recent purchase. She wondered how soon Sotheby’s would deliver it. Within the next few days, perhaps? A quiver of excitement snaked up her back.

The endless letters on the computer screen in front of her blurred and instead her thoughts returned to the first time she saw her painting in all its glory.