Secrets in the Mist Page 28

  The muscles along Father’s jaw flexed and I realized he did not believe me, and that he was very angry. “Then why is he paying you such an exorbitant amount of money?”

  I glanced at the letter, swiftly deducing that this Lord Waveney must have been the second person to send Mr. Fulton funds to pay the fine. But why?

  I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

  Father slammed his fist into his desk, making me jump. “Do not lie to me! What have you done?”

  Shaken by his outburst, I couldn’t find words. “I…I don’t…”

  His expression tightened as if in pain. “My own daughter.” He scowled fiercely. “How could you sell yourself so cheaply?” His eyes flicked down to the letter. “Or not so cheaply, as it is.”

  It suddenly dawned on me what he thought the money had been paid for, what he believed me capable of, and I was momentarily stunned. Fury raced through my veins. “I’m not his mistress! I would never… I couldn’t…” I spluttered. “How could you accuse me of such a thing?”

  “Then why is he paying you? What else am I to believe after reading this?” He flung the letter at me and I fumbled to catch it.

  While Father continued to glower at me, I quickly scanned the contents. Mr. Fulton had given no explanation for Lord Waveney’s generosity, though he did inform me that the viscount had requested the solicitor keep his identity confidential. However, Mr. Fulton had felt his allegiance was to us, his clients, not this lord.

  I looked up at my father, feeling his cruel allegations wrap around my heart like a cold fist. “I don’t know Lord Waveney. I’ve never met the man, that I can recall. And I should have hoped you knew me better than to accuse me of such a thing.”

  Father didn’t even react to my rebuke. “The viscount owns a large swath of land on the other side of the marsh, as well as Waveney Hall. It would have been easy for him to arrange to meet you.”

  “But he didn’t,” I snapped.

  “Then why is he sending you money?”

  “I don’t know!” My voice strained with hurt and frustration. “But he knew about your fine. He designated that the money be used to pay that. So someone must have told him. Someone you know.”

  Father sank down in the chair behind his desk. His expression was stony, and I realized he still didn’t believe me, at least not completely. That insult drove the air from my lungs. After everything I’d done, after all my sacrifices… Just when I thought he couldn’t injure me further I was proven horribly wrong. Again.

  “Perhaps it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let you roam so freely, with no need to account for your time. I should have found you a husband, so you wouldn’t have grasped onto whatever you could.” He squinted and nodded. “It’s my fault.”

  “O’ course it is,” Mrs. Brittle proclaimed.

  I turned to find her standing in the doorway. Her black eyes glittered with rage.

  Father glared at her. “This is none of your concern.”

  “It is when ye slander yer ain daughter.” She shambled into the room, favoring her left hip as always. “Drink has finally addled yer wits, ’cause that can be the only excuse for it.”

  “Old woman…” he warned, but Mrs. Brittle ignored his threat.

  “Yer daughter has sacrificed everythin’ for you.” She stabbed her finger at him. “While ye sit around feelin’ sorry for yersel’, drinkin’ yersel’ barmy, she’s scrounged and bartered and rationed to keep this roof o’er our heads and food on our table. And wi’ no thanks from ye, only more grief.” She flicked a disgusted look over him. “But ’tis no’ enough. Ye have to drink that cursed French brandy and get fined no’ once, but twice. And does that make ye even take pause? Nay! Ye heap it all on yer daughter.”

  Father’s mouth was tight with irritation, but Mrs. Brittle ignored it, moving closer to stand over him.

  “Do ye ken what yer daughter’s been forced to do to keep yer sorry hide oot o’ debtors’ prison? Do ye have any notion o’ what yer careless, selfish behavior has cost her?”

  I touched her arm. “Mrs. Brittle, don’t. He doesn’t need to know.”

  She rounded on me, though her voice gentled. “Nay, lass. He does.”

  “Know what?” Father demanded. “What has she done?”

  “She’s joined up wi’ them smugglers. And no’ Ingles and his lackeys, but a band o’ real scoundrels. Ones that’ll gut a man and no’ think twice.”

  His face paled and his eyes widened as he glanced at me, but I turned away, unable to face him and whatever thoughtless thing he might say next.

  “Yer daughter is consortin’ wi’ the lowliest o’ men and riskin’ her neck to pay yer fines. So, aye! ’Tis yer fault. And ye can be sure Mrs. Winterton is heartbroken lookin’ doon on what ye’ve done to her bairn.”

  Before Father could form a reply, Mrs. Brittle took hold of my elbow. “Come, lass. I’m sure yer father has some drinkin’ to do.”

  I willingly allowed myself to be escorted out, but couldn’t help looking over my shoulder to see how Mrs. Brittle’s words had affected him. His face was turned toward the wall, his eyes wide and unseeing. It was an expression I’d seen many times before and I knew Mrs. Brittle was right. It would end in another bottle.

  I wasn’t going to wait around to watch it happen yet again. Mrs. Brittle didn’t try to stop me as I headed toward the door, simply reminded me to take my bonnet.

  I marched up the dusty road to Thurlton, veering right before I entered the village proper to follow the dirt path that led behind the shops and buildings that lined the main street. This way, hopefully, I could enter the churchyard through the back gate without being seen. The graveyard was silent, save for the faint sounds of Mrs. Clark practicing the organ inside the church and the wind rustling the leaves overhead.

  I knelt before my mother’s and brother’s graves, clearing away the debris and trimming the grass growing in front of their gravestones by hand. When I had finished I sank back on my heels, wondering if I would ever have a home that was more comforting to return to than these two markers.

  I bowed my head in despair, crinkling the paper in my pocket. I’d forgotten I’d stuffed the letter from Mr. Fulton there after Father threw it at me. Unfolding it, I read over the contents more closely, but I still didn’t understand why this Viscount Waveney had sent me money. Was it a mistake?

  No, that didn’t make sense, for he’d specified how much of the amount was to be spent in the payment of my father’s fine. I searched my memory for any recollection of him, but I still didn’t think I knew him.

  Perhaps my grandfather did. Perhaps the earl had contacted Lord Waveney, knowing he owned property nearby, and asked him to gather information about us. That made some sort of sense. If Lord Waveney had found out about my father’s fines then maybe Grandfather had asked him to send me money on his behalf, hoping I would never realize it was from him.

  But why? If my grandfather was as uncaring and spiteful a man as my father claimed, wouldn’t he want us to know? And why hadn’t he sent the money directly to the Collector of Customs and addressed a simple note to our solicitor explaining what he’d done? Wouldn’t that be more logical?

  I sighed, feeling the beginnings of a megrim gathering behind my eyes. The organist had stopped playing, leaving an odd hollow space at the end of each gust of wind. It was during one of these lulls that some sort of sound alerted me to the fact that I was no longer alone. I glanced over my shoulder to find Kate standing before her parents’ elaborate gravestone several rows away. I was tempted to ignore her, but she was my dearest friend, and I was tired of this tension between us. It had gone on long enough.

  Rising to my feet, I dusted off the knees of my faded lavender sprig dress and began meandering through the gravestones toward her. Her Pomona-green gown and spencer looked new, for I’d not seen them before, as did her tan gloves. Courtesy of the last smuggling run? I felt an uncomfortable stab of envy, suspecting the color of her ensemble would have complimented my green e
yes and auburn hair, and that the slightly gathered sleeves and flared skirt might have given some sort of shape to my rather slight figure.

  As I rounded the last gravestone between me and her parents’ large monument topped with an ornamental cross, Kate turned to meet me with her hands clasped tightly in front of her. As I drew closer, I realized she was physically shaking with a fury that glittered in her eyes.

  “How could you be so foolish?” she snapped. “How could you fall prey to him?”

  Chapter 29

  I

  stared at her, dumbfounded. “You mean Robert?” I finally asked.

  “No, you lummox. Reynard.”

  I studied her, trying to understand the source of all her rage. “So you know.”

  “Yes!”

  “About the smuggling?” I clarified. “About my smuggling?”

  She glared at me and then hissed, “Yes.”

  I scowled. “Then don’t you think I should be the one who’s angry, seeing as your brother, and apparently you yourself, have been complicit in Reynard’s illegal undertakings for years?”

  “Complicit?” She laughed humorlessly. “If you can call blackmail complicit.”

  “What did he threaten you with? Your brother?”

  She turned her face to the side, glowering at her parents’ marker. “Did you know that the first time Reynard visited I thought he might be interested in me?”

  “You never told me that.”

  She inhaled a shaky breath. “It was soon after Robert jilted you, and somehow it seemed wrong to talk of potential suitors when you’d been so cruelly used. I thought maybe you’d be even more hurt.”

  I remained silent, knowing she was right. If I’d suspected for even a moment that I might also lose Kate to Olivia’s family, I’m quite sure I would not have handled it well. Not when I thought she was all I had. What a poor friend I’d been for her to have to shield me from her excitement. And her pain, for it was obvious what was to come.

  “He mocked and flirted, and I thought it so charming.” She sneered, deriding herself. “I convinced myself he visited so often to see me, when in actuality he was there to oversee his…business venture. And tup Olivia.”

  I must have gasped for she looked up at me with a world-weary gaze.

  “I saw them. And Reynard knew it. He actually smiled.”

  “Oh, Kate.”

  “He knew how I felt. I’d invited his attentions. And he’d continued to trifle with me for his own amusement.” She shook her head. “How stupid I was.”

  “Did Robert know?” I asked quietly.

  “About Olivia and Reynard? Yes. I went to tell him, but when he dismissed me so readily I realized he already knew. He just didn’t want to admit it, let alone discuss it.”

  I nodded in sympathy, but I was still confused. “So Reynard threatened to make his affair with Olivia public?”

  “No. He could have tarnished Olivia’s and Robert’s names irreparably for all I cared. My brother made the hasty decision to marry her while you were at home patiently waiting for him. His problems in his marriage were his own concern.”

  She began to pace in a tight circle. “No. Reynard is much more cunning than that. He had been listening to my chatter during those months I thought he was courting me, and he set his sights on the one person he knew I cared for most, the one person he hadn’t yet tainted.” Her eyes lifted to meet mine and I felt my stomach pitch.

  “Me?” I guessed.

  Her eyes gleamed. “He saw how I loved you. How Robert idealized you, especially as his marriage continued to sour. Reynard wanted you under his sway. But you weren’t interested. I don’t know if it was because your heart was still broken or you simply recognized him for what he was faster than I did, than all of us did. Either way, it infuriated him. So he sought to ensnare you another way.”

  “But you stopped him?” I guessed.

  She nodded, her jaw set. “If I remained silent about the smuggling, about the spying, he would leave you alone.”

  I was astounded by her devotion, by her willingness to protect me even though she risked being charged with treason because of her silence.

  “Which is why I’m such a fool,” I murmured softly, finally understanding her fury.

  “Yes.” Angry tears streaked down her cheeks. “Why did you get involved with Jack? Why did you let him pull you into this?”

  “He didn’t. Actually, he tried to keep me out of it, but I…I forced him. I didn’t think there was any other way.”

  “To pay your father’s fine,” she guessed.

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you ask Robert for the money? He would have paid it.”

  I closed my eyes. Her raw emotion was simply too much to bear alongside my own. “I was going to. But then he asked me to marry him, and I just couldn’t take his money unless I was certain I would say yes.”

  Kate sniffed on a brittle laugh. “What a noble pair we are.”

  I opened my eyes. She was right. And yet Reynard had found a way to use that nobility against us. It was sickening and terrifying all at once.

  “I’m sorry, Kate. If I’d known…”

  “If only I could have told you.”

  I reached out my hand to her, wanting to offer her comfort, but afraid she would reject me. I should have known better. She took my hand and pulled me into her shoulder, hugging me tightly. Her hair smelled of lilacs warmed in the sun, just as it always did, and it eased some of the ache inside of me.

  We both sniffed as we released each other, and Kate reached up to push an unruly strand of hair back under my bonnet. Her eyes were still troubled, but gone was the uncomfortable rage and despair. However, I had one more question and I hesitated to ask it, afraid of upsetting her again. But if not now, when would I broach it?

  “Kate, may I ask you one more thing?”

  She met my gaze, clearly hearing the uncertainty in my voice, and then nodded.

  “What of Harry?”

  “Ah.” Her lips curled in a tight smile. “He shares a mutual loathing for Reynard, and when I was forbidden from speaking to you about the smuggling, I found I still needed someone to confide in.” She inhaled. “He became that person.”

  My heart pinched in jealousy. “But there’s more.”

  She nodded slowly. “Yes. Or there was. We’ve been nothing but friends for some time.”

  I tried not to feel hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Her eyebrows arched. “Why didn’t you tell me about Jack?”

  I glanced to the side, at a bundle of wild roses someone had left before a gravestone. She was right. I was just as guilty of subterfuge. “At first, I wasn’t even sure he was real,” I found myself admitting. “And then, I guess I didn’t want to share him. I was worried…” I frowned and my voice trailed away.

  “That someone would make you see reason?” she finished for me when I couldn’t find the words. “That the joy and excitement and thrill would shatter and you’d be forced to give him up?”

  I looked up at her, realizing she did understand. “Yes.”

  Kate looped her arm through mine and we turned to stroll through the churchyard toward the lychgate. The summer sun was high in the sky, falling warmly on our necks.

  “Has he been worth the secrecy?” Kate suddenly asked, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief she pulled from her sleeve.

  “I think so,” I replied cautiously, and then with more certainty, “Yes. Yes, he has.”

  Her mouth curled into a tentative smile. “Well, at least that’s something.”

  But was it? I admitted I cared for Jack, and perhaps even more surprising I trusted him, but what did that mean? Our relationship was hardly leading toward marriage. He was trapped as a smuggler, and I was facing a terrible choice: give in to Reynard’s threats and join his crew, or flee Thurlton and leave my father to face the consequences. It was an impossible decision.

  I pressed closer to Kate’s side as we veered around a
rosebush, trying to keep the thorns from catching on the worn fabric of my skirts. As I did so, I felt the letter in my pocket crinkle again and a thought occurred to me.

  “Kate, are you acquainted with a Lord Waveney?”

  “Not personally. Though I’ve seen his name mentioned in the newspapers from time to time. He’s a commissioner or a Lord of the Treasury or some such thing.” Seeing my surprise, her smile brightened. “What? I do read things other than fashion plates. Though admittedly I’m usually searching for the gossip column.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her flippant excuse. I suspected there was more to it than that if she’d gleaned that Lord Waveney was a Lord of the Treasury, but I didn’t press her.

  “Why do you ask?”

  I explained about the payments my solicitor had received on my behalf to cover the expense of Father’s fine, the first from Reynard and the second from Lord Waveney.

  “That is puzzling.” Her brow furrowed in thought. “You’re sure you haven’t met?”

  I shook my head.

  “What of your father?”

  I thought of his crude accusations. “He’s not acquainted with him either. I’m sure of it.”

  We paused on the other side of the lychgate, preparing to go our separate ways.

  “Well, I shall think on it.” She released my arm. “If he’s truly taken an interest in you, with his position perhaps he can help you.”

  “More likely he’ll deny any association,” I jested wryly.

  “Yes, well, not every gentleman is as ignoble as experience has led us to believe.” She frowned. “Or at least let us hope not.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Another day passed without incident, but I knew I could not go on ignoring Reynard’s threats and demands indefinitely. It had been three days since I’d fled Greenlaws, and even though he might have given me time to accept everything he’d told me, he would not be patient forever.