Letter from a Dead Man Read online

  As such barbaric arrangements did happen, I commented dryly, ‘I’m very thankful to hear it.’

  ‘I was quite pretty when I was young,’ she ventured coquettishly.

  ‘My dear ma’am,’ I protested, ‘you are far too modest. Giles said you had the whole of London at your feet.’ I could believe it too, for despite a slight tendency to plumpness, she was still an extremely attractive woman.

  ‘Well, it is quite true, so I shan’t deny it. Even though I didn’t have a penny to my name, I had several gratifying offers of marriage. I refused those who had no fortune, naturally.’

  ‘Naturally,’ I agreed, shaking with mirth.

  ‘You may laugh Drusilla, but I was sick of being poor and always having to scrimp and save.’ She pulled her shawl tighter round her shoulders, remembering the unheated rooms of her youth. ‘Love is all very well, but it doesn’t pay the bills, and above all else, I wanted to be comfortable. So I decided to find myself a rich husband. And that’s when I met Cuthbert.’

  At the mention of her husband, a solitary tear hovered precariously on the end of her eyelashes, a trick she once told me she had perfected when young. I could quite see how it would have affected her suitors. Occasionally, as now, she did it unconsciously.

  ‘Cuthbert was just the man I was looking for. He was my father’s age, of course, but he had a large fortune, and showered me with expensive gifts, so when he begged me to marry him, I accepted,’ she confessed artlessly. ‘And I have been perfectly content ever since, as you know.’

  Indeed, Mr Saxborough’s one saving grace, in my eyes, had been his devotion to his wife. But Marguerite’s joyful tone soon evaporated as she remembered her present status. ‘Only that is all at an end now.’ She dabbed at her pretty violet blue eyes with a perfumed handkerchief. ‘I don’t want to leave Ledstone, Drusilla. How I shall bear it when the time comes I do not-------’ She broke off on hearing someone approaching. Looking over my head her expression changed instantly from distress to joy. ‘Giles -- I didn’t hear you come in.’

  ‘I walked in through your flower room, Mama.’ This connected to Marguerite’s personal drawing room, and she used it to arrange the flowers that decorated the whole house in the summer. The connecting door was open, for Marguerite loved the smell of flowers.

  Giles greeted me cheerfully, although his faintly troubled expression suggested he’d overheard part of what she’d said, but she quickly showed him the three empty bandboxes, and he stared in astonishment, as well he might, for she never threw anything away. Seeing a question forming on his lips, she quickly fobbed him off by explaining, with exactly the right degree of wistfulness, that I had shown her how it could be achieved. Satisfied, he smiled at me gratefully.

  I inquired after Thomas and he said, ‘I’ve just taken him and Tom down to the yacht.’

  ‘Again?’ Marguerite burst out. ‘That’s the third time this week. Giles, you must speak to Thomas. He will ruin Ledstone if he goes on neglecting the estate for his own pleasures.’

  ‘He’s only making the most of the fine weather.’ She frowned and he took her hands in his, reminding her gently, ‘Ledstone belongs to Thomas now. He must be allowed to run it as he wishes. I cannot interfere. Just as I would not expect him to interfere if our positions were reversed.’

  Marguerite clung to him. ‘Oh Giles, if only they were.’

  ‘You don’t mean that,’ he muttered tersely. And for one second his face revealed how much he wished it too. Quickly recovering himself, he joked, ‘Why, I would have to be older than Thomas for that to happen, and think how old that would make you!’ At which her eyes filled with such unspeakable horror I had to bite my lip firmly.

  I thought it a pity estates weren’t left to the son most suited to the task. For Giles had the caring attitude his father had lacked, besides a natural authority and a love of the land his brother did not possess. Thomas’s natural charm made up in great measure for his slapdash ways, although Cuthbert had not seen it like that, grumbling that his son spent too much time idling his life away on boats. Cuthbert had left his land in excellent condition, and if Thomas continued to neglect things, Giles would not allow Marguerite to see how it affected him, for he was far too fond of his brother. Nor would he ever let her realise how deeply he minded leaving Ledstone. But I knew.

  When I left Marguerite I was much more myself; a calmness I maintained on setting off for Smith’s farm the following morning, accompanied by Mudd. John Mudd was of no more than medium height and build, with thick, dark brown wavy hair, and quite unremarkable in appearance, except for a pair of intelligent, deep nut brown eyes. He never indulged in tittle-tattle with other servants and I related what Mr Arnold had told me, asking him to keep an eye open for where Smith might be hiding contraband.

  Cliff Farm was situated close to the chine at Hokewell Bay, and as we rode into the top end of the yard, Smith came out of his farmhouse. He was a large man, both in height and bulk. His mousy hair was unkempt, and his body, as could be ascertained from a considerable distance, was invariably unwashed. I did not like Smith, and he knew it, but he had ten children and a sensible, hard-working wife whose welfare did concern me. She and her two eldest sons did most of the work on the farm, and I did not believe she approved of Smith hiding contraband on my land. Greed had obviously overcome whatever common sense he possessed. The man had a sly, deceitful manner, but lacked the intelligence to use it to his advantage. Nor did he seem to understand that if he disobeyed me, I would find him out.

  Thoughts that had me tapping my crop against the side of my boot as he slowly puffed his way up the slope of the farmyard towards me. He wasn’t surprised to see me as I inspected the farm every month. I checked his outbuildings, fences, crops and the health of his animals, in my usual way before informing him everything seemed to be in order. ‘Make sure you keep it that way.’

  ‘You can rely on me, my lady,’ he said obsequiously.

  While Mudd saddled the horses, I warned Smith, as I also did every month, that my land was not to be used by smugglers, for he would have considered it odd if I deviated in any way from my normal behaviour. To my surprise, a faintly insolent expression crept into his eyes. ‘I’d never do that, my lady. But you do right to keep away from smugglers. From what I hear, they don’t like anyone interfering with their business. Doesn’t matter who you are, they don’t have any respect.’

  Gazing at him in disbelief, I took a firm hold on my riding crop. ‘Are you threatening me?’

  ‘What me, my lady?’ he said, feigning horror, his index finger pointing to his chest. ‘I wouldn’t do a thing like that. I don’t hold with smuggling myself. But, there’s no saying what your other tenants might get up to. With you being a lady, without a gentleman to protect you, and not knowing the evil ways of smugglers, I thought I ought to give you a friendly hint. I’ve seen what happens to people who get in their way. Marking faces for life, pushing people off cliffs - terrible what they’ll do for money. I wouldn’t like anything to happen to you, my lady.’

  I glared at him with loathing. ‘No-one,’ I said, tapping him sharply on the chest with my crop, ‘no-one is going to tell me what I can or can’t do on my own land, Smith. Not you, nor any of your smuggling friends. I won’t have this farm used for smuggling purposes. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Oh yes, my lady. Like I said, I wouldn’t do that.’

  ‘In that case, you have nothing to worry about, have you.’ Mudd brought the horses then, and Smith stood watching us ride away, a smug smile on his face. A smile I vowed to wipe off as quickly as I could.

  Once out of his sight, Mudd took one look at me and asked, ‘Is something wrong, my lady?’

  Seething, I told him what Smith had said. ‘I shan’t rest John, until that wretched man is under lock and key.’

  ‘I’m afraid I saw nothing unusual, my lady. His ditches don’t look as if they’ve been touched for years, the barn floor hadn’t been disturbed, and I don’t think he’d bury the stuf
f in a field.’

  ‘I’m quite sure he wouldn’t. Smith is far too lazy.’ After we skirted round either side of a large puddle I told him, ‘I think he hides the stuff in his pond.’

  His eyebrows shot up. ‘In the pond, my lady?’

  ‘There’s sediment a long way above where the water line is now, and we’ve had too much rain lately for that to have happened naturally.’

  Mudd turned to me, a thoughtful look on his weather-beaten face. ‘Well, the pond’s deep enough, and it’s nearer the coast than the farmhouse.’

  ‘What surprises me is that he thought of anything so clever.’

  ‘I doubt he did that, my lady. That’ll be where he’s been told to hide the stuff.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ I admitted, suspecting that kind of knowledge had come from his father, who had been involved in free trading for years in his younger days, and for all I knew, still was in some minor capacity.

  My aunt and cousin spent the afternoon with Giles at Norton House to see what improvements were necessary. After dining together, Giles was to escort them home. So I dined alone and that evening, feeling rather restless, I walked through the orchard and then up the steep hill that led to the Downs, where I sat on the seat my father had placed there, enjoying the view.

  Gazing down at the familiar old mellowed stone of the Manor, I thought how peaceful it looked. Rather as it must have appeared on the day my father first saw it. He had fallen in love with the Isle of Wight as a young man, seen this beautiful old manor house nestling at the foot of the Downs, yet within sight of the sea, found it was up for sale, and bought it. On his marriage, he’d added a light and airy south and west facing room for my mother, extended the dining room and kitchens, and built a new east wing, providing the house with a large yet cosy library, a spacious workroom for his many hobbies, and three extra bedchambers upstairs, making seven in all. Providing my mother with the perfect home, but sadly she died when I was three, giving birth to a son who did not survive an hour, and my father never totally recovered from her loss.

  Westfleet Manor wasn’t a house in the grand style of Ledstone Place, yet to my mind there was nowhere more beautiful on the entire Island. The house, half covered in green creepers that blazed a fiery red in autumn, exuded an air of peace and permanence. I loved everything about it, from the mullioned windows and wainscoting in the older part, to the wide sweeping staircase leading up from the hall. The manor was elegantly, yet simply furnished; every room welcoming and comfortable. I didn’t mind in the least that it wasn’t our ancestral home, or that we had nothing to compare with the Long Gallery at Ledstone with its impressive family portraits.

  In the summer, I liked all the windows open, filling the rooms with the heady scents of honeysuckle, lavender and roses. In winter, the drawing room with its huge fireplace kept us warm on the coldest of days. Father and I had often sat there in the dark, the logs hissing and crackling, the flickering firelight casting great shadows on the walls as we talked far into the night. To me it was the perfect haven and I knew how fortunate I was to live here.

  And I had no intention of allowing Smith to disrupt the smooth running of my estate. Recalling his bare-faced insolence, I got up and walked along the Down, trying to determine how best to deal with him. Deep in thought, I barely noticed the sea mist rolling in, as it often did here on the west coast, until I became aware I couldn’t see more than a few yards in any direction. Having no idea how far I had walked, I stopped for a moment. I shivered, for it was chilly in the mist, and I had slipped out without a pelisse. Nor had I told the servants where I was going, having only meant to climb the hill.

  It would soon be dark, and I wouldn’t be able to see anything at all then. Giles would escort my aunt and cousin back from Ledstone before the daylight went, and if I wasn’t there when they arrived home, and the servants couldn’t tell them where I had gone, my already overwrought aunt would be absolutely frantic. I decided to walk down to a lower level, where I would recognise the houses.

  It was then I first had the feeling I was not alone. I told myself not to be silly, that it was only the sheep, who roamed over the Downs. As I made my way downhill a stone rattled past me, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I tried to convince myself, not very successfully, that sheep disturbed stones too.

  It was then I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps, and swinging round on my heel, saw two vague shapes that were not sheep. I shivered again, but not from the cold, and called out, ‘Who’s there?’ I cursed the quake in my voice, yet no-one answered, and the shapes faded back into the mist. My heart began to pound, for there was no better place to rob me; and if that wasn’t their intention, as it would seem not to be, what did they want?

  Determined to escape them, I lifted my skirts a trifle and ran along the track; then, where the mist seemed thickest, abruptly moved off it, going straight down the steep hillside. But I had forgotten fog makes the grass wet, and I found myself slipping and sliding down the slope, skidding and bumping out of control. I came to a halt near a road, gasping for breath, and feeling decidedly bruised. But, before I could get to my feet, two burly men seized me by my arms and lifted me up.

  ‘How dare you!’ I exploded. I knew all the men who lived locally: most were fishermen, who were also smugglers. The faces of these two men were darkened in the manner smugglers adopted, but I was sure I didn’t know them. Neither of them spoke. Using their strength, and ignoring my desperate efforts to struggle free, they forced me over the road.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’ I demanded angrily. And then I saw. They were propelling me straight towards the edge of the cliff.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A vivid picture shot into my mind of Smith warning me that, those who got in the way of smugglers could end up at the bottom of a cliff. And I broke out into a sweat.

  Kicking out at them, I yelled, ‘Let me go, this instant.’

  I should have saved my breath. At the very edge of the cliff, they lifted me up by my shoulders and feet, held me in mid-air so that I could see the tide swirling round the rocks below, and as they swung me back to throw me over the cliff I let out a blood-curdling scream. An image of my father flashed before my eyes, and then quite suddenly they dumped me on the grass. A voice, full of menace, warned, ‘Stop interfering with things that don’t concern you.’ And they ran off into the mist without a backward glance.

  Feelings of fury, terror, and relief, coming in such swift succession, left me gasping for breath, and when I tried to sit up the earth beside me lurched so alarmingly, I had to crawl away from the edge on my hands and knees. As I did so, I heard a horse thundering in my direction. The rider leapt off his horse, and knelt by my side, his eyes widening in horror.

  ‘Lady Drusilla?’ Mr Reevers blurted out in disbelief. ‘My dear girl-- what happened? I heard a scream…… Has your horse thrown you again?’ I tried to speak, only my lips were too dry to manage more than an unintelligible croak, so I shook my head. ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘No,’ I whispered, forgetting the bruises I’d collected when I skidded down the hill.

  ‘Can you stand?’ He took my hands in his, saying in concern, ‘They’re like ice.’ As he gently helped me onto my feet I heard voices and shrank back. Mr Reevers eyed me thoughtfully. ‘It’s only Giles, with your aunt and cousin. We were escorting them to Westfleet, and came on the road because of the mist. I’d better speak to them.’

  I held the reins of his horse while he did so, resting my head thankfully against the animal’s warm neck. I heard the anxiety in their voices, but they said nothing, except to insist I take a horse and get home into the warm at once. Mr. Reevers escorted me the two miles back to Westfleet, sensibly refraining from asking questions, and having seen me into the house, hurried off to return the horse. In the hall I was greeted by a worried looking Jeffel.

  ‘My lady,’ he gasped, clearly shocked by my appearance. ‘Your - your gown----’

  ‘I was on the Dow
ns and ----’

  He looked at me, aghast. ‘On the Downs, my lady? Surely, you weren’t up there in the dark?’

  I saw from the clock that I had been out almost two hours. ‘I went for a walk and when the mist came down I lost my footing and fell down a slope. Then two men tried to rob me.’

  Jeffel’s face went white. ‘My lady----’

  ‘They ran off when they realised I had no money on me.’ Explaining Mr Reevers had brought me home, I said, ‘I shan’t walk on the Downs at dusk again, you can be sure of that.’ The troubled look changed to relief, and I smiled. ‘What I really need now is a hot bath.’ That brought him out of his daze, and he hurried off to give the necessary orders.

  I enjoyed a long, reviving soak, the warmth restoring me to something approaching my normal state. Happy just to be alive, I even allowed Gray, my maid, to bully me into going to bed. When my aunt and cousin looked in later, I repeated the story I had told Jeffel, not wanting to add to Aunt Thirza’s anxieties. She accepted my account without question, giving me a severe scold for behaving so foolishly.

  Smith was behind the attack, I did not doubt that. He and his smuggling friends thought frightening me to death would stop me interfering in their activities. Thinking of how terrified I had been, I started shaking again. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the sea swirling round those rocks. In that moment, I truly thought my last seconds had come.

  I lay there for a long time trying to decide what to do about Smith. My first instinct was to turn him off his farm. But if I did that, his wife and children, who had done nothing wrong, would be forced to go with him, and they had suffered enough. Besides, if I took that course, Smith would escape punishment for his crimes, and I had no intention of allowing that to happen. I wanted Smith arrested and put in prison. That meant catching him with smuggled goods on his farm.