Sir Ashley's Mettlesome Match

Not only had he expected her to give up her writing, at which she had been successful enough to support her brother, aunt and cousin in comparative comfort since her parents had died and which she enjoyed, he had complained about the colour of her hair. He said his mother was superstitious and maintained red hair was the mark of the devil; if he married a red-haired woman, he would never prosper and a lot more nonsense that made her angrier and angrier, not only with his mother but with him for believing it. ‘If the colour of someone’s hair is so important,’ she had stormed at him, ‘then you had better find someone whose tresses you find more to your taste.’

She had expected him to pacify her and tell her it did not matter, that he loved her for what she was, but he had turned on his heel and left her. She had never seen him again and a little while later she heard he had left the country and his parents were blaming her.

Now Sir Ashley had brought it all back. He had said all the things she had hoped Edward would say, and he had said them in such a caring way, as if he knew she needed that reassurance. Were confirmed bachelors all so pleasant? Had they learned how to please without the need to propose marriage? Could they be friends as he had suggested?

It would be difficult if Ben really did know something about the smugglers or if Nat turned up and he was also involved. Her need to protect her brother and cousin would certainly come between any possible friendship. She would have to be especially careful when dealing with Sir Ashley. And that was a great pity because she liked him. He made her laugh and let her be herself. One day she might even tell him about Philip King. So deep in thought was she, she did not hear her aunt enter the room until she spoke.

‘Philippa, Sir Felix has just sent round to ask us to supper.’

‘I do not feel like going. I am tired and worried about Nat.’

‘I know, dearest, but we must not let anyone see that and as Sir Felix and Sir Ashley have been so accommodating about Ben, I think it behoves us to make the effort. I could not bear it if they changed their minds because we snubbed them.’

Pippa sighed and got up. ‘You are right. I will change my clothes.’

‘Put on something attractive—that green silk with the quilted stomacher enhances your figure, you know. It is your best feature.’ She pulled the gown out of the clothes press as she spoke and shook it out. ‘And try to do something about your hair. I will send Babette in to help you when she has finished with me.’

‘Yes, Aunt,’ she said meekly, beginning to take off the blue wool. ‘But if you think I will put up with Sir Felix mauling me, you are mistaken. He gives me the shivers. I cannot think what he sees in me.’

‘Why, a very attractive young lady when she can put herself out to be so,’ her aunt said. ‘But I was not thinking of Sir Felix particularly.’

‘Sir Ashley!’ Pippa laughed. ‘He is a lifelong bachelor, he told me so. We have decided to be friends.’

‘That is something anyway. Usually you frighten men away with your top-lofty manner.’

‘I am not top lofty. How can I be with a head like mine?’

‘Very easily,’ her aunt said. ‘And I wish you would not adopt it. You do yourself no favours.’

‘It would not work with Sir Ashley in any case. He would laugh at me.’

‘That would be very uncivil of him and I am persuaded he is the epitome of good manners.’

‘And all the more dangerous for that.’

‘What do you mean, dangerous?’

‘He is on the side of law and order. We must be circumspect in what we tell him. If he thinks Ben or Nat are smugglers, he will feel he has to do his duty and hand them over to the law.’

‘They are not. At least I am sure Ben is not. As for Nat, we might find out if he deigned to put in an appearance.’

‘I am worried he might be hurt and unable to come home. I asked Joe to try to find out what has happened to him.’

‘Nathaniel is a grown man. It is up to him what he does, but I wish he had not involved Ben.’

‘You do not know that he did. Oh, Aunt, I wish there was an end to all this smuggling. It is ruining men’s lives. Sir Ashley thinks so, which is why he is so against it. He would like to know who is at the back of it, the men who provide the money for the ships and the cargo. They are the real villains, not the poor inhabitants.’

‘We all know that, but I am sure Ben does not know who they are and can tell Sir Ashley nothing. Now finish dressing. We must not be late. Sir Felix is a stickler for punctuality.’ And with that she left to go to her own toilette.

Pippa dressed slowly. Her stomach was churning, partly on account of Sir Felix who repulsed her and had to be dealt with politely but firmly, and partly on account of Sir Ashley, who was far too perspicacious and far, far too attractive for her comfort.

Babette, her aunt’s maid, arrived in time to help lace up her bodice over the stomacher and to brush her unruly hair into obedience. It took a great many pins, combs, ribbons and powder to achieve it, but she emerged a tall, elegant beauty with a long neck, a full bosom, decorously hidden beneath her corsage, and a small waist from which her full overskirt billowed out, embroidered with pale pink flowers. She rarely wore jewellery, but tonight she fetched out her mother’s emeralds and fastened them about her neck where they lay on her throat, competing with her eyes in their greenness. Her aunt commented, ‘You’ll do', and led the way to their carriage.

Ash, who had returned late to the house, had only just managed to complete his toilette and go down to the drawing room to join his host before the ladies were announced. What he expected to see he was not at all sure, certainly not the vision of loveliness that quite took his breath away. Who would have believed the wild woman could be so tamed? She would turn heads in any drawing room. Politeness dictated he must acknowledge Mrs Whiteside first, which he did with admirable aplomb. Then he turned to Pippa and swept her the bow of a London courtier, putting his foot forwards and circling his arm before lowering it over his extended leg. ‘Miss Kingslake, your obedient slave.’

‘Hmph.’ This from Sir Felix who certainly did not approve of this extravagance.

Pippa, her green eyes sparkling, returned this courtesy with a deep curtsy. ‘Sir Ashley.’ Then she turned and afforded the same to her host. ‘Sir Felix, good evening.’

He bowed and seized her hand to kiss the back of it. ‘Dear lady, you are in looks tonight. One would never guess that you had endured a carriage ride all the way to Wells and back today.’

‘It took no endurance on my part,’ she said, retrieving her hand. ‘Sir Ashley’s carriage is the last word in comfort.’

‘And he has secured Ben’s release,’ Augusta added. ‘We are to fetch him tomorrow, but no doubt Sir Ashley has told you that.’

‘Yes, he has. I am indebted to him.’ He indicated a sofa with a wave of his hand. ‘Please be seated. Supper will not be long. I ordered it for half past eight.’

Pippa, taking a seat alongside her aunt, glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantel. It wanted a minute to the half-hour. She sat silently counting the seconds.

‘Supper is served, Sir Felix.’ Even though she had been expecting it, the voice made Pippa jump, the footman had entered so silently.

Their host held out his hand to her and Pippa took it to rise and thus she went into the dining room on the arm of Sir Felix, leaving Ash to escort Mrs Whiteside.

The meal was superbly cooked and presented and the wines very fine, but Pippa hardly noticed what she was eating and drinking. She was acutely conscious of Sir Felix at the head of the table on her left and Sir Ashley on her right and the need to be circumspect. The atmosphere was fraught with tension. There was too much unspoken, too much that must not be spoken for normal conversation, though Sir Ashley did his best. He entertained them with stories of London gossip and what was going on at court and in Parliament, anything except what was most on their minds.

‘We had some excitement while you were away today,’ Sir Felix said in a pause in the conversation. ‘The smugglers stormed the Customs House and rescued the contraband. Knocked the two guards clean out of their senses.’

‘Oh, dear, I am sorry to hear that,’ Pippa said. ‘Did they recognise their assailants?’

‘No, they do not seem able to remember anything about it, nor who was responsible. I do not suppose we shall ever trace the smuggled goods now.’ It was said almost triumphantly.

‘You think it has all been spirited away?’ Ash asked him. ‘They must surely wait until dark to do that.’

‘My dear fellow, of course they must, but no one in his senses would attempt to stop them. They will have a hundred batmen escorting them, all armed with batons and muskets, ready to do battle with anyone attempting to interfere. It would take an army and we do not have an army. I have spoken to Captain Lovechild and he will not risk his dragoons on so unequal a fight. It is his opinion that it would be best to alert the people at the receiving end.’

‘Do you know who they might be?’ asked Pippa.

‘No, but perhaps Sir Ashley does. He seems to be an authority on the trade.’

‘I beg your pardon, Sir Felix,’ Ash put in. ‘I claim no such thing. I am as ignorant on the subject as you are', which was a statement that could mean something or nothing. ‘I am here to learn.’

To learn from poor Ben, Pippa thought, but said nothing. She would go with Sir Ashley and her aunt tomorrow and make sure her cousin did not implicate the local men, particularly Nat. Where was he? The longer he was away the more worried she became and her ambivalent feelings towards Sir Ashley were not helping. On the one hand she wished him and his probing away and on the other she knew he would be a staunch support in a crisis. Was there a crisis? She did not even know that.

When the lengthy meal ended the ladies repaired to the drawing room for tea, leaving the men to their port and cognac. ‘I wonder if Sir Felix’s brandy is duty-paid?’ Pippa murmured, accepting a dish of tea from her aunt. ‘I do not think he is at all enthusiastic about tackling the smuggling.’

‘He is simply thinking of the danger to the dragoons if there is a pitched battle,’ Augusta said. ‘And perhaps he is trying to protect Nathaniel.’

‘Protect his own supply, you mean.’

‘Philippa!’ her aunt protested. ‘You must not say such things. He would be deeply offended. After all, he would be doing it for your sake.’

‘Mine?’

‘Do not be obtuse, my girl. It cannot have escaped your notice that he pays you very particular attention.’

‘And I wish he would not. Short of telling him I find him repulsive, which would be cruel, I do not know how to put him off.’

‘Why do you want to? Six and twenty you are, and unlikely to get another offer. If what you tell me is correct, Sir Ashley has already made it plain he is not interested. Who else will take you? Especially since you refuse to go to London in the Season.’

‘I did that once and look what happened. No, Aunt, I am resigned to remaining single.’

Her aunt heaved a sigh. ‘I have never met anyone as stubborn as you are.’

‘It goes with my red hair,’ Pippa said, trying to make a joke of it. ‘Stubborn, fiery-tempered, not to be trusted …’

‘Who said you were not to be trusted?’

‘Lady Cadogan.’

‘Oh, that.’

‘Yes, that. Now, you will please me if you say no more on the subject.’

‘Very well, though I do think—’

‘No, Aunt,’ Pippa stopped her. ‘It is all behind me and that is how I would like it to stay.’

If Augusta was going to continue, she did not because the gentlemen joined them and she was kept busy dispensing tea to them at Sir Felix’s request, and asking Ash about the latest London fashions on which he seemed more knowledgeable than Pippa would have expected for a bachelor. But then, she told herself, he had, on his own admission, had several mistresses. Was he a rake? Had his light flirtation with her in the coach been leading to a proposition? Why, oh, why had she told him she had had lovers? It must have given him quite the wrong impression.

Sir Felix settled down on the sofa next to Pippa, and though she edged away, he simply shifted closer. In the end she stood up and went over to a spinet that stood in the corner and began idly picking out notes with one hand.

‘Do you play, Miss Kingslake?’

She turned to find Sir Ashley at her side. ‘A little.’

‘Then please do entertain us.’ He regarded her quizzically with a slight smile. ‘I think “Greensleeves” would be most appropriate? That is, if you know it.’

‘Of course.’ She pulled out the stool and sat down to play. He stood beside the instrument and began to sing, ‘Alas, my love, you do me wrong to cast me off discourteously …’ He had a mellifluous voice and sang effortlessly. She joined in and did not notice Sir Felix’s scowl. Ash did and was amused by it. The man was as jealous as hell. He hoped, oh, he hoped that Miss Kingslake would not be so foolish as to accept the man’s suit; he was far too old and set in his ways for someone as lively as Miss Kingslake. He smiled to himself as the song came to an end. He was being foolish; after all, what business was it of his whom the lady married?

The last dying notes and the flourishing bow Ash gave the pianist signalled the end of the evening and the ladies prepared to leave. Sir Felix gave orders for their carriage to be brought round to the front of the house.

‘Ask my man to saddle a horse for me,’ Ash told the footman who was being sent on this errand. ‘I will ride beside the carriage.’

‘It is very kind of you, Sir Ashley,’ Pippa said. ‘But not at all necessary. It is less than three miles …’

‘I think it is,’ he said. ‘The smugglers might be abroad and I would see you safely home.’

‘I think I should come, too,’ Sir Felix said. ‘One escort would not be enough to protect you against a mob. And I am a magistrate, after all. They will respect me.’

Ash doubted that. He suspected Sir Felix wanted to make sure he did not go out looking for smugglers after he left the ladies, which he had every intention of doing. It was a dark night, ideal for moving the contraband from wherever it was hidden and sending it on its way. He bowed in acquiescence, Sir Felix gave orders for his horse to be saddled, too, and thus the little cavalcade journeyed to Windward House without meeting a soul. All the village houses were in darkness, which could mean the occupants were in bed and keeping out of the way or they were gathering for the move.

When they arrived, the gentlemen saw the ladies safely into the house and the carriage driven round to the stables, then they returned to the Manor in silence. They had nothing to say to each other.

Chapter Three

Having had little or no sleep the night before, Pippa was dog-tired. She said goodnight to her aunt and went to her room, intending to go straight to bed. The maid had not drawn the curtains and she crossed the room do so; it was then she caught a glimpse of people moving about on the marshes. Her tiredness left her. Nat might be with them and she had to persuade him to come home before Sir Ashley found out what he was up to.

She hurried to her brother’s room and fetched a pair of breeches, a shirt, a waistcoat, a coat and hat from his clothes press, which she took back to her own room.

Ten minutes later a red-haired young man crept from the house and made his way down to the marshes. There were crowds of men working there in almost total silence, some knee-deep in icy water, as they fetched kegs and oilskin-wrapped bundles from their hiding places among the creeks left by the receding tide and loaded them onto carts waiting on firmer ground.

Pippa joined them, trying to appear as though she belonged there, but all the time looking about for her brother. She knew most of the men, but dare not make herself known to them. If they thought she was spying on them, they would have no mercy.

‘Nat Kingslake, what are you a-doin’ here?’ one of the men said, as she helped haul a keg into a cart. ‘Thowt you’d a mind to mek yarself scarce.’

Pippa looked about her, expecting to see her brother until she realised the man was John Bristow, the blacksmith, and he was addressing her. She put on her gruffest voice. ‘Why d’you say that? I’m one of the team, aren’t I? I was on the beach when this lot came in.’ She had only Joe’s word that this statement was true.

‘Yes, but I see yew jump into the boat and get rowed out to the Sally Ann. Do that mean the rest of the cargo hev bin landed some other place? That i’n't fair, that i’n't. That cargo were ours.’

Nat was not dead as she had feared he might be, but it was clear he was one of the smugglers. How to answer the blacksmith she did not know. If the smugglers thought Nat had betrayed them and kept a landing from them, they would be after his blood; on the other hand, if they realised who she was, they would be equally merciless. ‘I didn’t go on board,’ she said, trying to sound like her brother. ‘We waited until the coast was clear and the sailors rowed me back.’

‘Why didn’ yew go home then? Joe Sadler hev bin askin’ all round after yew.’

‘I couldn’t. Sir Felix is there much of the time and he has a guest.’

‘We know that. Yew’d do better goin’ home and keepin’ an eye on the man for us. We want to know what he’s up to.’

She could learn no more about Nat and the longer she stayed the greater the risk someone would penetrate her disguise, which hadn’t been meant as a disguise but simply a convenience. ‘Very well.’ She nodded and turned to go home.

‘We’ll see yew in a day or two when yar’ve had time to find out more about that there guest,’ he called after her.

The night was very dark and she had to pick her way carefully for fear of falling into one of the creeks or being sucked into the bog. It was not long before she realised she was being followed. Either they did not trust Nat or they had realised she was not her brother. She tried to hurry, but was hampered by the terrain.

‘Oooh!’ The cry was forced from her as she lost her footing and found herself slipping sideways into a water-filled creek. The coldness of it took her breath away and she floundered helplessly, trying to find her feet. The next minute she was grabbed about her waist from behind and hauled out. Her rescuer set her on her feet on firm ground, but he did not let go of her. She was shivering uncontrollably and it felt comfortingly warm against his broad chest.

‘Little fool!’ he murmured.

She knew the voice and twisted her head round to see Sir Ashley Saunders looking down at her. Had he recognised her? She had not seen him among the men, but that was not surprising; he was dressed in the rough clothes of a labourer. Spying, she presumed, but she could hardly condemn him for doing something she had been doing herself. ‘I thank you for your timely rescue, sir,’ she said, trying to sound masculine, but failing miserably on account of her chattering teeth.

If he was surprised to discover who it was he had rescued he gave no sign of it. ‘My pleasure and privilege, Miss Kingslake,’ he said, still holding her close, though she was soaking the front of his coat. She felt his warm breath on the back of her neck and it was enough to send trickles of heat down her spine, right down into her frozen toes. It did nothing to stop her shaking. Quite the opposite.

‘You knew …’

‘Of course. Slim young men do not usually have curves where you undoubtedly have them. And very delectable they are, too. But let us not waste time in idle chatter—you must go home and into the warm. Explanations can wait.’ As he spoke he turned her round and slipping off his coat, put it round her shoulders, then he held it there, drawing her against his side while he guided her steps to higher ground. Neither spoke.

Pippa’s shoes were full of water and her head full of questions. What was he doing out on the marshes when the land smugglers were busy? Why had he come alone instead of being supported by dragoons and Revenue men? And how could she explain away her own presence? Did she need to? Was it any of his business? And why, oh, why did the feel of his arms about her, have such a devastating effect on her body? It was not only the cold making her shake.

They reached Windward House and went round to the kitchen door, which she had left unbolted against her return. They stood on the step, facing each other. The air was fraught with tension, with unanswered questions and the realisation of the sheer absurdity of their situation. Knowing her aunt and everyone else were in their beds she could not invite him in and yet it seemed churlish to dismiss him out of hand. She took off his coat and handed it to him. ‘Thank you for your escort, Sir Ashley. You had better put this on, you must be very cold.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed, smiling and slipping it on. ‘And so must you. I suggest you go in and strip off those wet clothes before you catch your death of cold. I would not like to be held responsible for your demise. Go to bed. We have an early start in the morning.’

‘You are still going to take us, then?’

‘Of course. I do not go back on my word.’

‘I will say goodnight, then.’

‘Good morning would be more appropriate. It is past midnight.’

‘Is it? How time flies.’

He laughed and, turning her about, opened the door with one hand and gave her a gentle push with the other. ‘Much as I would like to prolong this delightful encounter, I must insist you go in and go to bed. I will return at eight o’clock and we shall see if you are well enough to go to Norwich.’

The next minute she was standing in the kitchen, lit only by the dying embers of the fire, and the door had been shut behind her. She heard his footsteps as he strode away and then she began to shiver so violently she could hardly light the candle she needed to see her to her bed. She needed something to warm her. She thrust a poker into the embers of the fire, filled a cup with wine and held the poker in it for several seconds. Then she drank the hot liquid down in one long gulp. She felt its warmth course its way down her throat and into her stomach and rather unsteadily climbed the stairs to her room, where she flung off Nat’s clothes and climbed into bed. It took a little time, but the shivering ceased at last and she slept, her dreams filled with near-drownings and strong warm arms engulfing her.

It was her aunt’s exclamation of dismay that woke her next morning. ‘Philippa, whatever has happened? Has Nathaniel come home?’

Pippa opened one sleepy eye to see her aunt, fully dressed, surveying the heap of soaking wet clothes flung all over the floor. Reluctantly she sat up. ‘No, I borrowed his clothes to go out looking for him.’

‘Philippa!’ Augusta was aghast. ‘Is there no end to your foolishness? One of these days you will come to a bad end. Why are they so wet? I was not aware that it had rained.’

‘It did not. I fell into a stream. Sir Ashley rescued me.’

‘Sir Ashley,’ her aunt repeated, as if unable to believe her ears. ‘What was he doing out in the middle of the night? Did you arrange to meet him?’

‘Certainly not. He was out spying on the smugglers. They were moving the cargo.’

The good lady sank onto the bed and stared at her niece in disbelief. ‘What happened?’

‘Nothing. He brought me home and I came to bed.’

‘That’s all?’

‘Yes. What did you expect, that I would bring him in for a night of unbridled passion?’

‘Do not be vulgar, Philippa. I meant if you were in Nathaniel’s clothes, did he recognise you?’

‘Of course he knew it was me. He wasn’t fooled by my disguise for a moment.’