"How very kind," he said.
Just for once, Susannah wished that Constance had not been so thoughtful.
"I must offer you my congratulations," she said to Oliver. "I have just been telling Susannah how delighted I am. You are very lucky to have won her."
"I know," he said.
She poured the tea, and handed them each a dish.
"It must have been difficult for you to keep it a secret, though I quite understand. It was so sudden, and so romantic. Love at first sight! What a pity you have not been able to announce it, but with Mr. Harstairs only just buried, of course it would not be seemly. When do you think you will be able to give notice of it?" she asked.
"We haven't thought about it yet," said Oliver.
"Will you tell Mrs. Wise?" she asked Susannah.
"No," said Susannah. "Not yet."
Constance nodded. "You can tell her when you remove to London. She will be delighted, I'm sure."
Susannah said nothing, but drank her tea. She was finding the questions harder and harder to bear, but they were perfectly natural, and if she had been engaged, she would have been eager to answer them.
Having finished his drink, Oliver stood up.
"This has been very pleasant, but if you will excuse me, I have business to attend to. My thanks for the tea," he said to Constance.
"It was a pleasure," said Constance. "Pray, don't let us detain you. I'm sure you must want to make sure everything is sorted out before your wedding."
He made them a bow then withdrew, leaving Susannah to contemplate the enormity of the web she had so hastily spun.
"At last," said Edward, as Oliver strode into the library. "We've been waiting for you."
Edward and James were sitting at the table, with their arms leaning on it.
Oliver raised one eyebrow. "If you have both been waiting here for me, it must be serious," he said lightly.
"It is."
Oliver sat down, sweeping the tails of his coat out of the way as he did so.
"You're a fool, Oliver. You've put us all in danger," said Edward angrily. "It was a mistake telling Miss Thorpe what we are doing here. I said so at the time, and this is the result. We're visited by Duchamp's spies."
"You seem certain about that. They might have nothing to do with Duchamp. They might be doing what the captain claims they are doing-helping the excise men rid the area of smuggling."
"Pah! They didn't even know what they were charging you with. Smuggling brandy and the like. They suspect we're the men Duchamp is looking for, and they're here because of the reward."
"Perhaps, but their visit had nothing to do with Susannah."
"Open your eyes, Oliver. She comes here with the disguise of being an heiress and installs herself in the house. Shortly afterwards, you are set upon by the militia and almost killed. Then she searches the library when we're out and discovers the secret passage. She spouts some nonsense about thinking we're smugglers to bring us out into the open, and you're completely deceived. You tell her what we're doing here. Even worse, you take her upstairs and show her one of the people we rescued. The following day Captain Johnson marches into the house, accompanied by seven men with muskets, and you say it has nothing to do with her?"
"In case you had forgotten, she saved me in there," said Oliver, his brow darkening. "If she hadn't spoken up for me they would have had an excuse to take me away, and I'd have been on my way to prison, or to Duchamp, at this very moment."
"That was nothing but a clever ruse, to throw you off the scent and make you trust her more."
"An unnecessary ruse. They had me in their power. Why would they need me to trust her after that?"
"Because Duchamp is playing a deep game, and trying to catch the people we rescue as well as catching us."
"Either that, or Captain Johnson is playing a game of his own," mused James. "He knows there's a reward on our heads, and having found out where we are, he could have decided to play for bigger stakes. There's a reward on the head of anyone we rescue as well. He could have sent Susannah here to befriend us. Then he arrives threatening to arrest you. She leaps to your defence in the hope that you'll take her further into your confidence and tell her the time of the next landing. Then she can let Captain Johnson know so that he can be there to intercept us. He will not only claim the reward on our heads, if that's the case, but a dozen or more extra rewards as well."
"No," said Oliver, banging the table with his fist. "You're wrong. She doesn't have anything to do with the militia. She can't have. She hasn't left the house since I was attacked, and if this plan you're imagining had been in place by then, I wouldn't have been attacked in the first place."
"She could have left last night without you knowing about it," returned Edward.
"No, she couldn't. I locked the doors."
"She has keys."
"Had keys."
"What do you mean?" asked Edward, his brows drawing together. "Do you mean you took them?"
James and Edward looked at him.
Oliver's eyes glinted. "It seemed like a wise precaution at the time."
"Then you don't trust her," said Edward thoughtfully.
"I didn't. I do now."
"She didn't need to leave." It was James who spoke.
Edward glanced at him. "What do you mean?"
"She could have passed a note to the boy. The one who brings the milk in the mornings. She gives him letters. I've seen her do it. She could easily have passed him a message for the captain, and had a message in return the same way. She and Captain Johnson could have planned this when she found out how close she was getting to you," he said to Oliver.
"I don't believe it," said Oliver, jumping up and striding across the room. "She wouldn't do something like that. I know it."
"Perhaps you're right," conceded Edward. "Miss Thorpe could be innocent. She could be exactly who she says she is, and the scene we have just witnessed could have been genuine, but there is a spy here somewhere, someone who alerted Duchamp's agents to our presence. If it isn't Miss Thorpe, it could be one of the villagers. It could be Tregornan. Or it could be the boy. He could have been chosen specifically for the job here."
James's eyes widened. "It's possible. I was talking to Kelsey once—we were discussing a sailing — and I noticed that Jim stopped whistling as he crossed the yard behind us."
"You think he was listening?"
"He could have been."
"Hm." Edward drummed his fingers on the table. "There's no way to be sure. But we've had two brushes with the militia, and it won't stop there. Captain Johnson means to claim the reward, and he won't be satisfied until he's done it. He's holding back at the moment. My guess is that he's decided to try and catch more fish in his net, but he won't hold back for ever. We must make sure we don't talk in front of the boy again, and we must keep away from the village. We can't help Tregornan knowing the times of our sailings, but if you've any sense," he went on, turning to Oliver, "you won't talk in front of Miss Thorpe either."
"She'll know where we've gone the next time we leave the house," Oliver pointed out.
"But not when we'll be back, and without that knowledge the captain can't catch us as we come ashore."
"What do we do if he returns?" asked James.
"We just have to hope he doesn't, at least not until it's too late. We have time to make one more sailing, and after that our work here will be done."
CHAPTER TEN
Susannah was worried about Oliver. He was going to France again, and the militia were on the alert. It would be an easy matter for one of them to kill him and then declare it was in the line of duty, and she could only hope that the soldiers did not discover the time of his next rescue mission.
She busied herself with her inventory of the house and drew a plan for each of the sitting-rooms in the west wing, deciding how she wanted to furnish them. She was aided in this by another letter from Mrs. Wise, which enclosed engravings of furniture taken from Ackermann's Repositor
y.
It was whilst she was engaged in these plans that there was once again a knock at the door, and her heart began to pound as she feared that the militia had returned. But instead, when Susannah opened the door, she saw that a well-dressed lady stood there with her two daughters.
"Miss Thorpe?" said the lady in a friendly fashion, looking Susannah up and down.
She had dark brown hair and brown eyes.
"Yes," said Susannah, a trifle warily.
"I am Mrs. Trevennan, your new neighbour. Forgive me for not leaving a card, but here in the country we are more friendly than people in town and we pay our visits without quite so much formality," she said with a smile. "Neighbour needs neighbour here, particularly in the winter, and as soon as I found out you were in residence I knew I should pay a call."
"That's very kind of you," said Susannah. She opened the door wide, and was so relieved they were not the militia that she made them doubly welcome. "Do, please, come in. I hope you will excuse me answering the door myself," she went on, as they entered the hall. "I have not yet had time to appoint a household staff."
"I quite understand. We have not come to criticize, but to make you welcome, have we not, girls?"
The two Miss Trevennans giggled and nodded their heads.
They had dark hair like their mother, and the same bright eyes. They wore matching blue coats, and wore adorable hats over an abundance of ringlets which cascaded down their backs. They were, perhaps, sixteen and seventeen years old, thought Susannah, clearly out of the schoolroom, but without the social poise that came with experience of society. They looked ready to giggle and nod at anything their mother said.
"This is a charming house," said Mrs. Trevennan, as she followed Susannah into the sitting-room. "I have often said that it has one of the finest positions in Cornwall, and it was a shame it has stood empty for so long. But now you are here, it has a mistress again. You will find yourself very popular, Miss Thorpe. It's a long time since we had new blood in the neighbourhood, and you will be a welcome addition to our society. Is that not so, girls?"
The two Miss Trevennans giggled.
"Please, take a seat," said Susannah.
Mrs. Trevennan arranged her exquisite cloak around her and sat on the sofa, laying her fur muff by her side.
"Have you lived in Cornwall long?" asked Susannah.
"There have been Trevennans here for hundreds of years," said Mrs. Trevennan. "Our house is just around the headland, not five miles away. It is a pleasant walk in the summer. We do so hope you mean to settle here, and that you don't mean to spend your life in town?"
"I have not quite decided yet," said Susannah.
"I must not bully you. We can but hope," she said with a smile. "You must come and see us when you have settled in. We cannot offer you much by way of entertainment at the moment, but at Christmas, Robert will be home. Robert is my son," she said to Susannah, beaming proudly. "He is such a handsome boy! I think I may say, without any of a mother's partiality, that he is the finest man hereabouts, and, of course, he is his father's heir. He will have Trevennan House and all the land around it. Although our two houses are five miles apart, the estates border each other, you know."
"How nice," said Susannah politely.
She was beginning to think that Mrs. Trevennan had an ulterior motive for her visit. It seemed that news of her arrival and inheritance had spread, and Mrs. Trevennan was clearly viewing her as a possible daughter-in-law. But it was not to be wondered at. Heiresses were the rightful property of impecunious landowners, or, at least, so most mothers of impecunious landowners thought!
It told her one thing, though, thought Susannah. News of her supposed engagement had not spread, otherwise Mrs. Trevennan would not have been so eager to call. It was some consolation. At least when Oliver left, she would not have to explain the circumstance to her neighbours.
Mrs. Trevennan turned out to be a wise woman. Having introduced her son into the conversation, she said no more of him. Instead she talked of the weather, the problems of smoking chimneys, and the latest fashions, before bringing her visit to an end.
"We must not leave the horses too long," she explained, when the time allotted for a formal visit had elapsed. "John is walking them, but he will scold me if I keep him waiting any longer. I declare, Miss Thorpe, I am a slave to my coachman!" She rose to her feet. "It has been a pleasure to meet you."
"And you. It was good of you to call."
"Now don't forget, we are relying on you to take dinner with us when Roderick comes home," said Mrs. Trevennan, as Susannah showed her and her daughters to the door. "He will be so disappointed if he does not have a chance to meet you."
Roderick? thought Susannah with a sudden chill. But aloud, she said, "Thank you, you are very kind."
"Nonsense! What are neighbours for? If you need any help or advice, then I hope you will send a message to me. I will enjoy nothing more than putting you in the way of the best shopkeepers or advising you on the most reliable farrier."
Susannah thanked her again, and the Trevennans departed, climbing into their smartly appointed carriage. The coachman closed the door behind them, mounted his box and cracked the whip, then the carriage rolled away down the drive.
As Susannah closed the door, she leant back against it, thinking. To begin with, Mrs. Trevennan's visit had seemed like nothing more than the natural curiosity of near neighbours, but now she wasn't so sure, and she felt she needed someone to talk to. Constance would know no more than she did, but she would value Oliver's advice.
She went upstairs, knowing he was to take his turn sitting with Buvoir that morning. She scratched softly at the door, and a voice called, "Come in."
It was not Oliver's voice, however, but Kelsey's.
"I thought I would find Mr. Bristow here," Susannah said, as she went into the room.
"He's gone down to the shore," Kelsey said.
"I see. Thank you."
She was about to leave, when she saw that Buvoir was out of bed. He was sitting by the window, fully dressed, reading a book.
"I see you are feeling better," she said.
He looked up with a smile, but it was clear he had not understood her.
Her French was limited, but she managed to ask after his health and learnt that he was much recovered, and that he would soon be leaving to stay with friends in the north-east.
Leaving Kelsey with Buvoir, she went to her own room and changed, then went downstairs. She breathed in deeply as she stepped out into the fine morning. The sky was blue and the wind had dropped, giving a clear, sunny day. She had never seen the landscape look so vibrant. The grass was emerald, and the sea was a sparkling sapphire. Glints of sunlight winked from the water, bringing it to life. She turned her steps towards the edge of the cliff and soon came to the path. She scrambled down. There was no sign of Oliver in the first cove, but as she rounded the shore she saw him at the jetty of boulders, just about to untie the rowing boat. She hurried along the jetty to greet him.
"Susannah!" he said, looking up at her approach. "Is anything wrong?"
"Perhaps. I don't know," she said with a frown.
He glanced from her to the boat.
"Would you care to go out?"
"In the rowing boat?" she asked.
"Yes."
"I thought the currents were deadly," she remarked humorously.
He laughed. "It is your curiosity that could have been deadly. The currents are safe enough, as long as they are treated with respect."
"Then yes, thank you, I would," she said.
He held out his hand to her.
She hesitated for a fraction of a second, then took it. Even through her glove she could feel the contact, and she avoided looking into his face. He would soon be leaving, and she had no business giving in to instincts that led her beyond the bounds of propriety. Instead she looked at the boat, judging its rhythm as it bobbed into the jetty and away again. Waiting until it had gone to its furthest point she lifted
her foot, and by the time she brought her foot down, the boat had bobbed to shore once again. She stepped in, wobbled precariously until she had brought her other foot into the boat, and then sat down facing Oliver.
He untied the boat and pushed it away from the jetty with an oar, then began to row. Once he had taken them clear of the cove, he said, "What's troubling you?"
"It might be nothing," she said, "but I've just had a visit from one of my neighbours, a Mrs. Trevennan."
"Yes?"
"I thought to begin with, it was nothing more than friendliness, combined with a desire to secure an heiress for her son, but now I'm not so sure. She told me that her son, Robert, would be coming home at Christmas and invited me to dine with them when he is here. We went on to talk of other things, but as she was leaving she reminded me of the invitation. Only this time, she called her son Roderick."
He was thoughtful.
"So you don't think she's a neighbour," he said.
"Yes, I do," said Susannah, considering. "She told me where she lived and invited me to call on her, so I believe she lives there, but not that she came for a neighbourly purpose."
"You think she was sent to spy on you?"
"Or perhaps to find out if my engagement to you was real. She made no mention of it, and I thought it was because the captain had not told anyone, but by talking about her imaginery son she could have been wanting me to say that I was already betrothed."
"Then the good captain didn't believe us, and he has persuaded one of the local gentry to discover the truth. Goodness knows what inducement he used," he said with a frown, as he pulled on the oars. "Perhaps he is willing to overlook her husband's use of smuggled brandy if she helps him in this matter."
"I suspected as much," said Susannah. "There was something in the captain's face when he left that told me he hadn't accepted the story, but there was nothing he could say. I think you're right. He wants to know the truth."
"Then we had better be prepared for more visits from Captain Johnson," said Oliver.