Joan Smith - Delsie

“I will keep a careful watch and see where they have hidden the stuff, but let them get it off your property. That is all they want to do. Let them go their way. They do no real harm to anyone-it is not as though they were murderers. They molest no one so long as they are not interfered with. They are not considered criminals in the ordinary way. I personally have no grudge against them. Andrew was working with them-they have got caught unprepared, with no place to take the cargo but here. Best to let them go on with it. Get your things together now, and let the Bristcombes see you are leaving. They’ll spread the word, and by tomorrow or the next day the thing will be over for good.”

“That’s what you said several days ago, that it was over for good. Since that time we have all been poisoned, however! They have the gall for anything. I won’t try to stop them, but I won’t run away either. I’ll just spy and see where they have been hiding the barrels. It is nothing short of magic, deVigne, that they took a whole caravan of mules, each carrying two barrels, into the orchard, and it vanished.”

“They won’t come for it with you here.”

“If they don’t come for it, there is nothing to worry about,” she replied reasonably.

“They’ll find some way of being rid of you, and it won’t be pleasant.”

It had become a contest of wills. In her mind, she decided he was trying to bend her to do his bidding, and she was bound to stay if it killed her. “I am not leaving this house,” she told him.

“You mean to expose my niece to this unnecessary danger, do you?” he asked sharply.

“Certainly not. You may take Roberta to Lady Jane, or take her yourself.”

“I will take you both. Pack you bag. We’re leaving,” he commanded.

She inhaled a deep breath and threw back her shoulders for the challenge. “I have come to realize you are very much accustomed to having your own way. I have seen the villagers tugging their forelocks when you strut past. My own former docility in marrying your drunken, criminal brother-in-law against my will may have misled you into thinking I am equally biddable. It is not the case. I am in charge of this house. You are in no position of authority over me. Nor of my stepdaughter either, for that matter. I could keep her here if I wished, but I do not wish it. You may take Roberta. I remain.”

“I take leave to tell you, Mrs. Grayshott, you are a stubborn fool. Will you be so kind as to tell Miss Milne to prepare Roberta for a few days’ visit at the Hall? I shall require Miss Milne’s presence as well, of course, to look after the child. You shan’t have her this time if you run into a gentleman in the garden. The treatment of yourself will be different as well.”

“Don’t think to make me go by taking Miss Milne from me,” she replied. Actually it was a severe blow to be losing the governess. She turned and went to deliver the message to Miss Milne. As she angrily stalked up the stairs, she considered his words. How did he know Miss Milne had been with her in the garden? She had not told him. She had said practically nothing-as little as possible. Perhaps Miss Milne herself had mentioned it.

She asked the girl this question when she spoke to her. “Oh, no, ma’am. I never talk to him, only to say ‘how do you do,’ or to answer a question about Miss Grayshott.” The girl was busy throwing a few pieces of linen into a bag. She made no effort to conceal her relief at escaping the house. “And are you staying, then, ma’am?” she asked.

“Certainly I am.” She had only a minute to consider that if deVigne knew Miss Milne had been with her in the garden, it was because he had been there himself. It was he who had grabbed her and kissed her. Whatever emotions this might have raised in a more peaceful mood, at the height of her anger it was seen as an impertinence and insult.

When she returned to the saloon, deVigne stood with one booted foot on the finder of the grate, in a state of angry concentration. “I hope Miss Milne has succeeded in changing your mind,” he said.

“She is not so insolent as to try,” was the unyielding answer. “While we are on the subject of Miss Milne, may I ask how you came to know she was in the garden with me the night I was attacked by a libertine? I did not tell you so, and she has just confirmed for me that she did not tell you herself.”

His face was impassive, untouched by shame at being found out. “It was myself in the garden. I did it only to frighten you. I had already told you not to go out. It served you right. It was my hope it would prevent a repetition of such foolhardiness on your part in the future. Your present decision leads one to the inevitable conclusion you enjoy being attacked by libertines.”

“Not by you! I never encountered such overweaning arrogance in my life. Anyone who doesn’t do as you order is stubborn!”

“I suggest it for your own good. What do you think will happen to you if you are caught spying about the orchard, discovering the identity of the smugglers?”

“Whatever happens, I cannot believe it will prove so unpleasant as my last experience there. And I don’t mean to be caught this time.”

“You overestimate your abilities. I caught you. I shall let Jane persuade you.”

“I shan’t be joining Lady Jane for dinner this evening. Perhaps you will be kind enough to make my apologies, as I have no carriage to go and tell her myself.”

“You will find it a long day, with no company but your own mulish-” He came to a halt.

“I expect to have a deal of company. You forget your brother-in-law’s creditors will be descending on me today, dunning me for his year’s unpaid bills.”

“It will give a fine impression, for you to be seen answering your own door before half the village.”

“They will expect no better from a smuggler’s widow!” she retaliated.

“You are determined to make this affair as unsavory as possible, I see. This is sheer spite. You do it to show me what an untenable position I have put you in by this marriage. I confess quite frankly, ma’am, I think it was an error. Had I had the least idea what Andrew was up to, I would not have urged you to marry him, but there is no need to cast yourself on the mercy of a band of smugglers to bring the message home to me.”

“That is not why I am doing it.”

“Why then? There is no sane reason in the world for you to expose yourself so needlessly.”

“You wouldn’t understand. I object to being used by people. I object to the open sneers of the Bristcombes, to their audacity in using this house for a smugglers’ den. I will not be told by them or any persons of such doubtful morality what I am to do.”

“Especially me! Let me tell you, I am as finely tuned to the nuances of morality and moral turpitude as you, or anyone else. There is no outstanding virtue in stubbornness, however.”

“I wonder that you embrace it so tenaciously.” She examined him with her gray, assessing eyes, that hid all her uncertainty. She began to be assailed by doubts as to whether she were doing the sensible thing. She had relied heavily on Miss Milne’s presence, and had secretly thought deVigne would insist on helping her too, but he was bent on depriving her of every jot of assistance. “I suppose you will take your two girls from the Hall back too?” she asked.

“I shan’t cater to your whim for heroism by leaving you to stand alone against the tribe. Do you want a few of my footmen sent down for the night?”

“That won’t be necessary,” she answered with the utmost indifference, but hoping he would prevail against her.

“Very well. Do you know how to use a pistol?”