Chapter Eighteen
‘You’ve no call for running out,
till the house-dogs bark’
It was a perfect summer’s day for the expedition to Astonbury, with only a gentle breeze stirring the leaves on the trees. The countryside looked lush and peaceful as the carriages passed by.
The cavalcade consisted of two carriages and two outriders. Sir Henry and his lady, together with Susan, Caroline and Julia led the way, with the Reverend and Mrs Talbot, Mrs Blake and Miss Martha Blake following in the second carriage. Toby Kinston and Stephen Wareham brought up the rear on horseback.
They arrived at Astonbury in good time, and were greeted with great cordiality by the custodian of the house who professed himself delighted to show them around the house, suggesting that they also explore the gardens and Roman ruins near the folly on the hill. This was promptly agreed to.
First, though, Julia had to make the acquaintance of Mrs Blake and her daughter whom she had briefly met at church, shortly after her arrival in the county.
Dressed in half mourning, Mrs Blake was a sharp-eyed middle-aged widow; her daughter, a tall handsome girl in her early twenties with a no-nonsense expression on her countenance, which, after the introduction, remained fixed firmly on Lieutenant Wareham.
Sir Henry and Mr Talbot led the way into the house, followed by Lady Wentworth with Mrs Talbot and the widow Blake. Susan and Toby came next, with Julia accompanying Caroline and Martha Blake, and Stephen Wareham following. The Elizabethan house proved interesting with its large panelled hall, intricate carvings, a priest’s hole, and a bedchamber especially built for the Virgin Queen on one of her many progresses around the country, as the custodian explained.
Outside in the garden, Mrs Blake showed superior knowledge. All listened in respectful silence as that lady expounded her views on the garden’s design, and revealed the plants’ Latin botanical names to her audience with the assurance of an expert in that field. On reaching the folly, positioned on a gentle rise overlooking the surrounding countryside, they rested for a while before proceeding on to look at the Roman ruins.
Here, Mr Talbot came into his own, and Julia was agreeably surprised and impressed at the historical information that flowed effortlessly and authoritatively from him. However, Miss Blake was not to be denied, and in a spirited and forthright manner, she questioned the vicar on several points, and, warming to her subject, she kept him in conversation on the merits and demerits of the Roman invasion.
After some time, the party wandered away and split into groups, leaving Martha Blake and Mr Talbot to continue their discourse. Julia found herself being accompanied by Stephen Wareham.
‘Lieutenant, I must thank you for inviting me to join your party on the Glorious last Saturday. It was most kind of you and Captain Martin,’ she said, sincerely.
‘My pleasure, indeed Miss Farraday. I trust you enjoyed the day.’
‘Indeed, I did. I cannot remember when I have had a more enjoyable day out,’ she said warmly, ‘and I have written to the captain to tell him so.’
‘Are you very knowledgeable about Roman antiquities, Miss Farraday?’ asked the lieutenant, and Julia thought she saw a twinkle in his eye.
‘No, I’m afraid not,’ she smiled. ‘Although I have enjoyed seeing the ruins. Whether they are genuine or not seems a moot point. Certainly the vicar thinks they are counterfeit and he appears to know his subject well. But Miss Blake seems equally convinced that they are genuine, and would seem to be as equally well qualified to prove so.’
She looked slyly sideways at him from under her lashes.
He chuckled. ‘Knowing Martha as I do, Mr Talbot will be totally unable to convince her to change her opinion.’
Julia let that pass and together they walked companionably down the path. Lieutenant Wareham broke the silence by quietly asking, ‘I don’t suppose you have heard any gossip from the village since our last talk together?’
He looked at her meaningfully. Remembering his last conversation with her, and Lenore’s remark, she answered carefully. ‘No, Mr Wareham. Only that a run is expected soon.’
‘Nothing more specific than that?’ The look he gave her was piercing.
Julia shook her head, no.
‘Mmm, a pity.’
‘I promise you, sir, if I hear anything of importance I will let you know at once.’
His face was intense as he gripped her elbow to escort her around an upturned garden urn.
‘I do appreciate that, ma’am. Not having lived in these parts long, you cannot easily comprehend how dangerously insidious smuggling has become to all the local inhabitants.’
‘I am aware that it has been a scourge for the whole country while we have been at war with France, but now we are at peace, surely…’
‘My dear Miss Farraday,’ he interrupted. ‘Smuggling here is of no recent occurrence. It has been going on for centuries and has cost the country millions of pounds, not to mention thousands of lives. It has corrupted more people and caused more havoc and distress than anything else, other than the war itself.’
He paused and looked at her quizzically. ‘Have you ever heard the term ‘owling’?’
She nodded, a little unsure of herself. ‘I have heard the word used somewhere, but I can’t remember exactly in what connection.’
‘It was what this area of Kent and Sussex was famous for, and how the whole dastardly trade began two hundred years ago. Wool from our flocks was smuggled on the downs and marshes, across the Channel to the weavers of Flanders and France. Like owls, the smugglers did all their work by night. That is where the term comes from. To do this, on a large scale as it became, gangs were formed, and blackmail, intimidation and murder ensued. By return passage came the spirits and laces as payment, and in the last hundred years it has diversified to tea, tobacco, spices, china and other luxury items.’
Julia frowned in concentration and picked her words carefully. ‘But surely if it is such an illegal and dangerous trade, most honest men would feel nothing but revulsion, and consequently, have no part of it?’
‘Miss Farraday, you must remember that this part of England has been in a very depressed state. Many here have been in abject poverty, and to fill the belly most men would do anything, honest or not.’
He stopped and looked her full in the face. ‘The financial return on these cargoes can be huge, even allowing a family to live for a year or more from the profits of a successful run.’
They continued walking on as he added, ‘Another problem is that since our great victory at Waterloo, there has been a huge influx of over two hundred thousand soldiers and seamen back into the country, and for whom there is no chance of employment. Naturally, they need no persuasion to throw their lot in with the smugglers for gain.’
Julia shivered inwardly. On her excursions to London from Windsor, she had seen the pathetic sight of these very servicemen he spoke of, begging or playing the fiddle or sailor’s pipe for the few pennies given to them by a largely unfeeling public.
She stopped and looked at him attentively. ‘I do see what you mean. Surely though, if the problem is as grave as you say, the Government must put more resources into the preventive service, and look after the soldiers and sailors that have returned from the wars.’
The shadow of a smile crossed his face.
‘Ah, ma’am, there you have it. If only we had more men and equipment to deal with the matter it would lighten the load considerably. Attempts have been made though, and Captain McCulloch has devised a scheme, which the Admiralty has supported, for establishing a coast blockade between North and South Forelands, and now it’s being extended to Beachy Head. It’s a start, but regretfully still not enough.’
Julia sent him a sympathetic glance. ‘And in the meantime, it’s you and the other preventive men who are trying to stamp out smuggling against large numbers of organized rogues.’
‘That’s the truth of it. In most cases it is passed down from father to son and has become a family affair.
’
‘Now we are at peace with France and the embargoes have been lifted, hasn’t smuggling decreased along the coast?’ she inquired.
‘One would hope so. But though duties and levies have been relaxed or lifted, there is still plenty of illicit trade going on, even increasing with some goods. Although spirits are no longer prohibitive, tobacco and other products are still attractive to the smugglers for monetary gain.’
As Julia was about to question him further, she was interrupted by Martha Blake inquiring brightly, ‘Lieutenant Wareham, you have completely monopolised Miss Farraday and I am sure this will never do.’
She roguishly wagged a finger at him in mock admonition, and, slipping her arm through Julia’s, added, ‘I have so much wanted to have a tête à tête with you, dear Julia, to hear of your life at Court.’
Julia saw a look of pained resignation sweep across the lieutenant’s face as he bowed to Miss Blake, and begged the ladies to proceed before him. Afterwards, Julia could hardly remember the contents of the conversation she had with that lady, only a feeling of exhaustion. It seemed to consist of Martha’s busy life in Rye, her mama’s poor health compared to her own iron constitution, plus certain innuendoes, accompanied by a girlish giggle, that dear Lieutenant Wareham was, indeed, her most particular friend.
The justice of this, Julia wondered at, as that particular gentleman showed no obvious signs of partiality when all the party joined together to enjoy the refreshments considerately provided by the steward. Julia felt a satisfactory wave of pleasure that this was so.
Seated next to Mr Talbot as he discoursed knowledgeably on Roman antiquities at some length, she saw Susan basking in the undivided attention of her Toby, with Lady Wentworth and Mrs Talbot looking on benignly, Mrs Blake disapprovingly, and Sir Henry somewhat bemused. Caroline did little to disguise her vexation, even while Martha Blake chatted spiritedly to Stephen Wareham, who looked frankly bored.
At length, Lady Wentworth spoke to her spouse, and after thanking the steward for their excellent repast, the party made its way back to their conveyances and headed home.