‘Yes, you do,’ I affirmed.
And it was true. It was not only the damp clothes and blood-stained neckscarf; mud and twigs clung to his black coat and breeches, lumps of soil tangled his hair; it was as though he’d been in an earthquake.
‘What happened?’ I asked. ‘— No, wait. You must have a wash first. Those cuts are more than scratches. Can you get your coat off?’
‘If not, you’ll have to saw it away, won’t you?’ He was trying to make light of the business, but I knew he was in pain.
I didn’t wait to give reply to such a stupid remark, but went through to the kitchen, where the range was still warm from baking, and had a kettle of water on it. I poured some into a bowl, and with a clean cloth hurried back to the parlour. In my absence Rupert had managed to remove his coat. The blood was already clotting near the shoulder, and when I’d wiped it clean I saw that the wound, though nasty, was probably from where a bullet had grazed it. Superficial, thank God, like the graze near one temple; but neglected either could have given serious trouble.
How long it took for him to appear clean and in respectable shape, I don’t recall. I was surprised at his submissiveness to my help. It was not until the dabbing and washing and bandaging were over that I could relax and notice his expression.
There was a little smile about his stern mouth, his long eyes were slightly crinkled at the corners. It was as though he was mildly amused. Amused — when I’d been so frantic with anxiety, so wrought-up and tense on his behalf.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘You missed your true vocation, Miss Lebrun. You would make an excellent nurse — or should I say, you already are one.’
‘There’s no need to pay me compliments,’ I said abruptly. ‘I’d just like to know—’
‘What I’ve been up to? How and why I’ve arrived here in such a dastardly uncivilized manner? And what the devil I’m thinking about, placing a young woman in such a compromising situation?’ he interrupted. ‘Of course, naturally.’ He regarded me reflectively then continued after a short pause, ‘There was trouble tonight near the creek—’
‘Smuggling, you mean!’
‘Don’t hurry me. Yes, smuggling. Brandy and lace. Unfortunately a certain excise officer who in the past had been — fairly co-operative shall we say — in turning a blind eye — had been replaced for some unknown reason by a particularly odious character who’d been on bad terms with me for quite a time. When the force arrived on the scene the small boats — French — were luckily away. But the cargo hadn’t yet been completely cleared. My men were spotted after removing the last kegs from that old wreck you saw, to the mouth of a cave that’s generally blocked by a slab. There’s a tunnel there leading to the old chapel—’
‘I thought something like that.’
Ignoring my statement he continued, ‘Rosecarrion is a hive of tunnels. Very useful routes to dumping depots. You found one, when you located the old chapel so cunningly.’
‘Why are you telling me all this?’ I asked. ‘And why — how did you arrive at the kitchen door of this cottage? I don’t understand.’
He lazed back on the sofa with an enigmatic look on his face that discomforted me. It was as though he was assessing me properly for the first time, wondering whether or not he could trust me perhaps — or about something else — something deeply personal that brought the rich colour to my cheeks and set my heart racing.
‘I don’t think you’re telling me the truth, Miss Lebrun. You understand far more than you admit. For instance — if you search my coat pocket you’ll discover a shred of linen — a lady’s handkerchief, I believe — that I found on a thorn bush when I struggled up those abominable steps. You knew very well there was a passage hidden below all that rubble.’ He smiled wrily. ‘A pity you didn’t realise I’d have to use it —maybe you could have cleaned it up a little.’
Enlightenment dawned on me.
‘Oh! the hole.’
‘Exactly. This cottage was used in the past as a dumping place for goods. But not for many years. I needed it for — other things.’ He lowered his gaze. His voice dropped a little sadly, reminding me of what ‘other things’ probably implied — mostly the image of the lovely girl in the portrait.
‘I see.’
He sighed. ‘Maybe you will eventually, and I expect you’re wondering why I took that foul passage tonight?’
‘Well — why did you?’
‘I became a fox, Josephine, so the revenue, like hounds, could hunt me instead of my two faithful men, which they did. The entrance to the passage is some distance from the cove, leading from a rock crevice, just wide enough to squeeze through. Conveniently for me, the clouds thickened at the most important moment, leaving the Preventative completely bemused. Hopefully, my accomplices had sufficient time to be properly away and replace the slab. If they didn’t—’
‘Yes?’
‘Ah well, there’s always a risk about this sort of thing but I’m not really worried now. What worried me was when I came upon blocked places in that foul passage. I had to scratch and burrow like an old mole; the air was fetid at times — nothing but dust and mud. Still — I’ve done it, and still live, thank God.’
I thanked God as well, in my heart.
‘The trouble is,’ he resumed, ‘that old wreck won’t help us any more. You may be sure the area will be well watched from now on.’
‘A good thing too,’ I said tartly, surprising even myself; I must have sounded exactly like Dame Jenny.
‘And just what do you mean by that?’ he asked in the hard determined way I knew so well.
I was confused and taken aback, realising I had actually no right to comment on what Mr Verne should or should not do. My cheeks burned as I replied, ‘I’m sorry, I suppose it isn’t my place to speak like that. I was merely thinking of your safety. I mean—’
‘Yes, do go on.’
‘Well — you could — you could get seriously hurt or worse, couldn’t you — if anything like this happened again? Have you got to go on with smuggling?’
He raised his brows and shrugged.
‘A man like myself has to have certain things in his life such as — excitement of a kind perhaps — challenge, and the means of retaining certain standards, of having the luxuries he’s used to.’
‘Like your treasure room?’
His face was expressionless when he answered, ‘Something of the sort.’ It was as though a veil had clouded his features, and I knew he was thinking of the girl in the portrait. I was suddenly impatient, and filled with jealousy.
I went to the door abruptly, turned and said in matter-of-fact tones, ‘You must be hungry. I know I am, after all the disturbance—’
‘For which I profoundly apologise.’ His voice was filled with mockery.
‘There’s cold ham,’ I told him, ignoring the sarcasm. ‘I’ll make sandwiches and find something for Brutus. Come along, boy.’
Without waiting for Rupert’s reply, I left the parlour, with the dog obediently at my heels.
Two o’clock struck when the snack meal I’d managed to provide was over. A curious silence had arisen between Rupert and me, an awkwardness filled with unspoken questions, doubts, hesitancy, and longings on my part, which made me gauche and unable to speak or behave naturally.
‘You’ll be very late back at Kerrysmoor, won’t you?’ I said at last. ‘I mean, without a horse or anything—’ I broke off stupidly. He got up from the chair, put a hand to the grazed cheek, which was no longer bleeding, and agreed with an ironic semblance of a short laugh. ‘Certainly. My horse, I’m quite sure, is already back at the stables, in more respectable shape than I am. But a few miles’ walk should freshen me up, and I know the quickest route there is.’
‘Is it safe? Or would you rather—’
‘Bide here till dawn?’ The golden eyes gleamed with mockery. ‘My dear girl! What man in his senses wouldn’t? But under the circumstances it would be a little rash I think; in my own way I have principles, and I’ve
no taste for testing them where you’re concerned. A young woman of your type is — or should be — sacrosanct, in this particular instance. In other words—’ His jaw tightened, the light in his eyes smouldered with the rising heat of desire, ‘— I respect you, Josephine, and if you go on looking at me like that, then heaven help both of us. I must be off, or dammit, darling, I’m only human—’ He made a gesture of leaving, but I was before him at the door.
‘No. Don’t go.’ The plea broke from me heedlessly. ‘There’s no need. I don’t care a fig about respectability or what’s done or not done. Rupert — please—’
He sighed, shaking his head slowly, then suddenly gave in, and gathered me to him, cradling my head against his breast. Half sobbing, half laughing with joy, I clung to him in complete abandonment, while he kissed my forehead, my cheeks and lips, burying his mouth in my hair. The scent and strength of his male body was all around — both a torment and opiate soothing and exciting me to forgetfulness of the world, of everything but the knowledge that it had happened at last. We were alone together, free to belong in the richest and deepest way possible to man and woman.
‘Love me, Rupert,’ I pleaded, as he carried me to the sofa, ‘Oh, please, please love me.’
Very gently but firmly, he laid me down, and removed my wrap and nightshift. He was trembling. The scar near his shoulder showed briefly as he freed himself of constricting clothing. I touched it lightly, caressingly, but his lips were on mine again and the world was blotted out as our flesh became one, borne on a surging flood-tide of passion in which nothing registered but the wild fulfilment of mutual desire and need.
There was no doubting any more, no questioning or uncertainty. What had to be was, and had been destined assuredly as spring must follow winter, with summer’s glory to follow.
When it was over we still lay entwined as emotional tumult died into sensuous sweet acceptance. My heart ached from an overburdening of joy. ‘Until this moment,’ I thought, ‘I had no knowledge of what life could be. If I died now it would be with no regret, because heaven is here — beyond the limits of Time or mortality, and he is with me—’
‘Darling—’ I heard Rupert murmuring, stirring yet again closer. ‘Oh, love, my love.’ And like a flower suddenly brought to full blossoming, my body once more reached towards him, and was possessed, as was my spirit, until peace came, and eventually we slept.
*
At the first streak of dawn before it was perfectly light, Rupert set off once more for Kerrysmoor, after a quick drink and a piece of cake I’d baked the previous day. He set off from the back of Tregonnis taking a short route I didn’t know of, bordered by small stone-walled hills beneath the base of the moor. As his strong figure strode away to be lost in the half-light I wondered if Lady Verne would have missed his presence during the night, or even been aware of his absence. The mere thought of her existence momentarily chilled me. But when I went through to the kitchen doubt died in a rush of warm memory, and the knowledge that I was beloved.
All that morning I lived in a dream, untroubled by practical issues. It was only when evening approached that it occurred to me no concrete plan had been discussed concerning a future meeting. He would soon come, I knew that, but waiting was going to be a strain. I must be careful always of my appearance — never appear overtired or slip-shod in the slightest way. My face must never be shiny from exertion or steamy from the washtub, nor my hair ungroomed. My aprons must be spotless, and my skin sweetly smelling from cologne for his delight. There would be no difficulty in appearing the young lady of Tregonnis rather than its servant or caretaker, there was so little to do domestically without Dame Jenny. For myself I would keep cooking to a minimum, and prevail on Jan to spend more time washing the floors free of Brutus’s footmarks and any mud stains brought in from his walks. I had made it my business to be friendly with the youth from the beginning of our acquaintanceship, and I think in an admiring fashion he liked me. He was also very loyal to Rupert.
So the first day passed, then another, and another.
Against my better judgement and optimism a niggle of anxiety seized me.
‘Have you seen the master recently?’ I asked Jan when the fifth afternoon arrived, and there was still no sign of Rupert.
He shook his head. ‘I haven’t seen en, Miss, he hasn’ showed up at all when I took butter an’ such to the big house. But I’ve heard tell ’er ladyship wasn’ well, so I suppose he’ve bin spendin’ more time with ’er. Nat’ral that, edn’ et?’
‘Oh yes, of course,’ I replied mutely, thinking with an irrational burst of pain and disappointment, ‘but it’s not true. She may call herself his wife, but it’s here he belongs — with me at Tregonnis.’
I longed to burst out with the truth. Let not only Jan but the whole world know of our relationship. Love like ours should never be secret or hidden, but declared openly with honesty and pride.
Something of my inner struggle must have shown.
‘Is everythin’ all right, miss?’ Jan asked. ‘Nuthen wrong, is there?’
I pulled myself together quickly.
‘No, nothing wrong at all,’ I declared, hoping it was true. ‘I was just wondering if — if her ladyship was likely to be ill for long.’
‘Oh doan’ worry ’bout ’er,’ the boy said, with a laugh. ‘She gets turns sometimes, an’ then the Master has to be around, that’s all.’
‘What sort of turns?’ I asked.
He shrugged, eyed me with curiosity for a moment, then replied, ‘Just headaches. Megrims they call it at Kerrysmoor, the thing most fine high-up ladies suffer from, I do b’lieve.’
With that I had to be content; but fear, like a frail shadow, rose to haunt me, because I sensed more lay behind Jan’s words than he was willing to admit, and that it very easily could concern me, and the night Rupert had spent at Tregonnis.
Chapter Eight
Another week passed following my conversation with Jan, before Rupert appeared.
It was a golden afternoon that day, and I was cutting a few of Dame Jenny’s crimson roses for the boy to take to her when he went to Kerrysmoor the next morning. There was a slight breeze rippling the surface of the pool, and a sighing sound stirred the branches of an overhanging willow. Bees buzzed and a blackbird sang from a thorn tree. I was humming under my breath. That fact combined with Nature’s murmuring was probably why I didn’t at first hear footsteps approaching along the path. The sound didn’t properly register until he spoke.
‘Josephine—’
I looked round sharply, and he was there, standing only a few yards away. At first I couldn’t speak. Surprise, combined with a welling up of sudden joy shocked me to silence. Then I gave a little cry and ran to him. He kissed me. But the kiss was a gentle one. It was as though since our last passionate meeting something had happened that had drained energy and initiative from him. I stood back, studying him anxiously. His face too, appeared drawn. A little of the fire had left his eyes, but tenderness was there — a kind of weary compassion.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked. ‘Is anything the matter?’
‘My wife’s — ill, as you must have heard or I should have been here earlier.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said politely. ‘Is her sickness serious?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you trying to tell me we shan’t — you won’t be able to visit me or something?’
He moved towards me again; his touch on my shoulder felt for a brief moment like that of a parent trying to break bad news to a child. Instinctively I pulled myself away, and facing him with my chin raised an inch or two higher, said, ‘Please don’t try and evade the truth, Rupert. I’m a woman, and quite capable of hearing it. If you regret what happened, you’ve only got to say. But—’
In an instant his tired calm deserted him, and his arm was round me, while with the other hand he tilted my face up to his. This time his lips were firm and warm on mine. Through my thin dress I could feel the thudding of his heart. Then he rele
ased me, and I was thankful to see his countenance flooded with a warmer colour, and that something of the old flame lit his eyes.
‘Don’t you dare ever speak like that again,’ he said sternly, ‘or I’ll have to spank sense into you. Regret! how can there be regret for the best thing that ever happened to me.’
‘Then what is it?’
‘For a time, my love, it’s better for both of us that we don’t meet too frequently. Only for a time, remember. After that—’ he broke off hesitantly.
‘Yes? Afterwards?’
‘I think you know,’ he replied ambiguously.
‘I don’t though,’ I told him frankly. ‘I thought I did — at least — perhaps I didn’t think much about it — practically. But I did believe that in the end we’d be together,’ I paused, continuing when he said nothing, ‘Will we, Rupert?’
‘My love, as soon as possible. In the meantime I’m quite sure you need something more to occupy you than being closeted alone here with only a great dog and occasional visit from Jan for company. So I’ve contacted my friend Luigi, and he’s consented to give you further singing tuition, twice a week for so long as necessary to renew your confidence—’
I gasped.
‘Luigi? But — I don’t think I could. I don’t want to any more. I simply couldn’t face going through the kind of thing that happened at Exeter again. I know my voice is all right, of its kind — for singing at places like the Golden Bird. But not in opera. Truly, Rupert, fame isn’t important to me any more. Surely you understand?’
‘Yes, I understand what you feel at the moment; but Luigi still has great faith in your potential, so have I. You needn’t necessarily make a career of your voice; that will be up to you; but the knowledge of being able to should count. Don’t you understand, darling?’
I tried to, but it was difficult. Once more my life was in a whirl. From an over-quiet daily routine lit to expectancy each morning that the evening might possibly bring Rupert to my bed, I was suddenly confronted with a period of lessons under the tuition of the strict little Italian to whom I’d already brought disappointment and my own humiliation.