Harstairs House Read online

"Kelsey betrayed them?" asked Constance in surprise. "Oh my! And he seemed so nice."

  Susannah nodded. "I know. He had been with Oliver for some time, but he had been overtaken by gambling fever and he needed money. And so he betrayed his friends."

  Constance shook her head. "This is a dreadful affair."

  "It is. But it is over… or, at least, almost. Oliver and his friends have carried out their last mission from this house. But now, I think we had better see to our guests." She stood up. "They might have to stay here for a few days, until it is safe for them to leave, but Oliver and his friends will stay with them, and see them on their way."

  "I wonder if we can make up the bedrooms," said Constance.

  "I don't think it will be a good idea for them to sleep upstairs, in case Captain Johnson returns. I think they must stay in the wash house. But we will take them some more blankets and bolsters to help make their stay more pleasant."

  "Mr. Bristow is such a wonderful man," said Constance. "Imagine, risking his life to go and rescue his fellow men from the revolution. You are very lucky to be betrothed to him."

  "Yes," said Susannah, with a happy smile spreading across her face. "I am."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Susannah rose early the following morning, whilst the sky was still dark. She had been tired from her turbulent evening, but she had been too excited to sleep. She was going to marry Oliver!

  She washed quickly, before donning a blue open gown and a cream petticoat. After fastening her bodice, she threw a shawl round her shoulders to keep out the cold, then she picked up her candle and went downstairs.

  The house was quiet If she had not known better, she would never have guessed that seventeen people were in the wash house, recovering from their dreadful ordeal. The kitchen was a picture of tranquillity. The brass pans were burnished and were glowing in the firelight, for the kitchen fire was kept in overnight Susannah lit the candles and then set the kettle over the fire. She glanced at the dresser. It was still pushed across the wash house door. She was not strong enough to move it herself, but it would be pushed aside as soon as the gentlemen arrived.

  There was the sound of footsteps coming across the yard, and just as she was going to open the door, thinking it must be Jim with the milk, it opened, and Oliver entered the room, closely followed by Edward.

  "You are up early," she said, surprised that they had already been outside.

  "We wanted to see if it would be safe to get the émigrés away before first light. It will be easier to move them under cover of darkness," said Oliver.

  "And is it?" she asked.

  "No. At least not yet. The captain's still suspicious. He's left guards, as we suspected he might, two at the gate and two on the cliffs. We will have to delay our departure for a while. Luckily, there is enough food in the house to last for another few days. It will give the émigrés a chance to rest and build up their strength."

  "And it will give us a chance to replace our horses," said Edward, closing the door behind him.

  Susannah looked at him in surprise.

  "When we got to the stables this morning, we found them empty," he explained. "Our horses had gone."

  "But how… ?" asked Susannah.

  The two men threw off their greatcoats.

  "It's possible Johnson took them to hinder us, and equally possible it was a last act of spite on Kelsey's part," said Edward. "I don't suppose I'll ever see Caesar again. I've had that horse since it was born. I bred it myself," he said with a sigh. Then he rallied. "But it's a setback, nothing more." He glanced at the dresser. "We had better push that aside."

  The two gentlemen moved the dresser whilst Susannah continued preparing breakfast. She was soon joined by Constance, who raided the larder for food to give their hungry guests.

  "I'm afraid there will not be enough chocolate for everyone," she said. "Our supplies are running low. And there will not be enough rolls. I baked yesterday, but we had to feed everyone when they arrived."

  "Never mind, we have other things," said Susannah, following her into the larder and taking down eggs, ham and sausages. "Will James be joining us?" she asked, as she returned to the kitchen.

  "Later," said Oliver. "He's gone down to the shore to see if the captain has left any guards in the cove. If not, we might be able to get some of the émigrés away in the boat. He might be some time, though, and he would not want us to wait for him."

  Susannah glanced at the children, who were hungry, and said, "Very well."

  She and Constance began cooking the food and then handing it out. It was an odd assortment of ham, sausages, eggs, cake, fish, cheese and bread, with drinks of tea, ale or milk, but it was evidently very welcome to the émigrés, who had languished in prison before crossing the Channel, and who were grateful for anything wholesome. Some of them remained in the wash house, whilst others ate in the kitchen, telling Susannah and Constance of the hardships they had endured. There was a surreptitious nudging when everyone had eaten their fill, and one of the Frenchwomen stepped forward.

  "We would like to thank you for everything you 'ave done for us," she said.

  "You are very welcome," said Susannah.

  She and Constance set about washing the empty plates, helped by some of the Frenchwomen who were rested enough to assist them, but then they could do no more to help, for they had to attend to their own affairs. Their month at Harstairs House was over, and Mr. Sinders would be calling for them shortly. They must be ready to leave when he arrived.

  "I can't believe we've been here a month," said Constance, as they went upstairs. "It seems like no time at all since we first arrived."

  Susannah agreed. Little had she known that her month at Harstairs House would contain so much that was exciting, perilous and wonderful. And now her life was to get even better, for Oliver was to join her in London.

  She left Constance on the landing and went into her bedchamber. She would miss it. She had grown used to its ancient four poster bed, and its heavy washstand with its delicate porcelain bowl. Most of all, she had grown used to its view of the sea. But she was not leaving for ever, she reminded herself. She and Oliver had not yet discussed where they would live when they were married, but she knew they would spend at least part of the year at Harstairs House.

  She must remember to give him Mrs. Wise's direction, she thought, as she went over to the wardrobe and took out her few gowns, before folding them and putting them neatly in her portmanteau. She would have to make her final arrangements with him, deciding when he was to call.

  Her thoughts were disturbed by the sound of wheels crunching on gravel, and looking out of the window she saw that Mr. Sinder's coach was bowling up the drive. She made haste to pack her last few things and then, donning her outdoor clothes, she closed her portmanteau, picked it up and went downstairs. She had only to take her leave of Oliver, and then she would be on her way.

  "So it's agreed," said Edward, as he and Oliver finished making their plans in the kitchen. They were sitting at the kitchen table in their shirt sleeves, one on either side of it. "We will wait until the soldiers give up and go away, and then we will walk the émigrés across the cliffs. We will have a wagon waiting for them a few miles away, and from there we can take them to safe houses around the country."

  "Yes," said Oliver. He paused, and then, leaning back in his chair, he said, "Edward, there's something I have to tell you."

  Edward looked at him enquiringly.

  "When you move on to a new base, I will not be coming with you."

  "Ah." Edward gave a ghost of a smile. "I see. It's because of Susannah?"

  "Yes. I'm in love with her," said Oliver simply.

  Edward gave a rare smile. "I know," he said.

  "Is it so obvious?" asked Oliver in surprise.

  "Yes, my friend, it is. You have been haunted recently by some dark secret, and it has made you hard and remote, but ever since meeting Susannah you have started to come back to life. Besides, you are clearly a man in l
ove. You can do nothing these days but smile!"

  Oliver laughed. "I know. Everywhere I turn, I see only hope and promise." Then he sobered a little. "And that is why I can't risk my life any more."

  Edward said, "I understand. You will be marrying in Cornwall?"

  "No. In London. Susannah has no parents, but she has a friend in London and she would like her to be there. Both you and James must come to the wedding as well. I would like you to be my groomsmen."

  "Nothing would give me greater pleasure, and I'm sure James will feel the same." He clasped Oliver by the hand. "I'm very glad for you."

  "You don't mind me leaving you like this?"

  "No. Your time for helping others has passed. Now you need to think of your own life. She's a brave woman, Oliver. You're lucky to have found her. Keep hold of her."

  "I intend to," said Oliver.

  He stood up, just as the door opened and James entered the room.

  "What's this?" asked James, removing his hat and throwing his caped great coat on to a chair.

  "You're just in time to congratulate me," Oliver said. "I have asked Susannah to be my wife, and she has said yes."

  Susannah descended to the hall, with Constance beside her. "You go on ahead," she said, as she heard the coach pull to a halt outside the door. "Tell Mr. Sinders I will be out shortly. I must say goodbye to Oliver, and give him Mrs. Wise's direction so that he can join us in London. I will be with you soon."

  "Of course," said Constance. "Here, let me take your portmanteau. The coachman can be tying it to the roof."

  Susannah relinquished her portmanteau, then, whilst Constance went out to the coach, she went to find Oliver. The thought of their parting cost her no more than a brief pang, for it would only be of a short duration. In a few days time they would be reunited in London, and then… and then the rest of her life could begin.

  As she went down the stone steps leading to the kitchen she heard voices. She sighed. She had hoped for a few minutes alone with Oliver, but it sounded as though Edward and James were with him, so she must put a good face on it.

  She heard James saying, "What's this?" as she went along the corridor and then Oliver saying, "You're just in time to congratulate me. I have asked Susannah to be my wife, and she has said yes."

  She smiled. My wife. How good those words sounded!

  "Oliver, no." James's words surprised her. "I've said nothing until now because I believed you when you said you knew where to stop, but I can't let you go through with this. When you first decided to make her fall in love with you I thought it a good joke—"

  Joke? thought Susannah, the smile falling from her face.

  "But that was before I knew her. Oliver, she's done nothing but help us. She saved us from the militia, and if not for her we could be dead. I can't stand by any longer. You have to put an end to this farce, now, before you do any more harm. To ask her to marry you simply because you overheard her saying she wouldn't marry you if her life depended on it is cruel. Break it off with her. Tell her you can't let her tie herself to a man who's constantly putting himself in danger. Allow her a way out of the situation with her pride and her dignity intact, but don't let this charade go on any longer."

  She stopped in the doorway, aghast.

  "If you don't," went on James, "I tell you frankly, I will." He broke off as he saw her. "Susannah!" he exclaimed, his look one of dismay.

  She stared at him, white-faced, and then at Oliver as he turned round to face her.

  "A charade?" she said in horror.

  "Susannah…" said Oliver.

  His voice roused her from the horror that had gripped her. She turned and made her way back along the corridor and up the stairs. She scarcely saw where she was going as the terrible scene replayed itself in her mind: James's shocked face, and Oliver turning slowly… the back of his head, with its wild locks of long hair, the side, with its powerful profile…

  She had thought he loved her, but it had been nothing but a charade. His feelings had been a pretence as a cruel revenge for saying she would never marry him. It had been a deliberate and cold-blooded deception. Every time he had looked at her, or touched her, or kissed her, it had all been a sham.

  She crossed the hall and went out of the door. Constance was standing next to the coach, waiting for her. She could not speak of it to anyone, not even Constance. Not yet. And so she hid her feelings deep and pretended that nothing had happened.

  "Are you ready?" she asked, marvelling at how calm her voice was.

  "Yes," said Constance.

  "Then let us be off."

  She climbed into the coach and greeted Mr. Sinders. He returned her greeting as she and Constance settled themselves, then the coachman folded up the step, closed the door, climbed on to his box and the coach pulled away.

  "Oh, look, there is Mr. Bristow," said Constance, just when Susannah had managed to gain some semblance of calm. "He is running after us."

  Mr. Sinders raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps we had better stop," he said.

  "No!" said Susannah vehemently.

  Constance looked at her in surprise.

  Susannah forced herself to be calm. "I'm sure it's nothing important," she said.

  "If you say so…" said Constance doubtfully, as the coach picked up speed and bowled down the drive.

  Mr. Sinders was apparently oblivious to the tension in the coach.

  "Well," he began, "if you give me your word you have not left the estate I will be satisfied you have fulfilled the terms of the will, Miss Thorpe. Once we reach my offices in London, I will be able to give you the full details of your inheritance, and as soon as the relevant documents have been signed, I will hand it over to you."

  "You are very kind," she said mechanically. "I give you my word I have not left. I would like to thank you for everything you have done for me. I am looking forward to inheriting. It will be wonderful."

  But she was not thinking of her inheritance. She was thinking of every minute she had spent with Oliver, and remembering every brush of his lips. Her hand tingled with the memory, and so did her mouth. It had felt so real…

  But it had not been real.

  Oliver cursed as the coach pulled away from him, and at last he had to let it go. He stood looking after it, feeling full of dismay. The horses had gone, and without them he could not catch the coach. He would have to hire an equipage, the fastest the neighbourhood could provide, and make for London. Once there, he would call on Susannah and explain everything. When he had her in his arms, he knew he could make her understand. James's words had been unfortunate, nothing more. He would tell her everything, reassure her of his love. All he had to do was follow her to Mrs. Wise's house, and everything would be well. But then a sick feeling swept over him. His stomach clenched, and a coldness settled on his heart, because he did not know where Mrs. Wise lived.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The journey seemed interminable to Susannah. Constance and Mr. Sinders were both quiet, leaving her alone to her thoughts. If only they had been happier. But instead they tormented her. She thought of every time Oliver had touched her, and every time he had spoken to her, and she felt her heart sink as she realized it had all been a sham. But no good would come of thinking about it, she told herself. She must do her best to put it out of her mind.

  She turned her attention to the fields and villages as they rolled by. She joined Constance and Mr. Sinders in commenting on the inns they stopped at along the way, as they took refreshment whilst the horses were changed, and after a long and tiring journey they finally reached London.

  Her spirits were low, but she told herself if Oliver could play such a cruel joke, then he was not worthy of her love. She must put him out of her mind, she told herself bracingly. She would have plenty of things to distract her in London, and she would be ungrateful indeed if she wasted another thought on a man who was not worthy of her love. But although her head had no difficulty with this edict, her heart found it hard to apply.

  Nev
ertheless, she looked out of the window as the coach threaded its way through the streets, and made herself take an interest in the assortment of vehicles they passed, from brewers' carts to phaetons, and from curricles to coaches. She noticed a ragged urchin running along the side of the street with a scrawny dog beside him, whilst a smart lady dressed in a blue pelisse and feathered hat was walking along on the arm of a dapper gentleman. A footman was carrying a pile of boxes, and a baker was walking along with a tray of bread on his head. It was the sort of scene that should have gladdened her heart, but even the sight of a young boy riding a pedestrian curricle could not make her smile. The coach finally rolled to a halt in a respectable neighbourhood.

  "This is my office," said Mr. Sinders, with dry pride.

  The coachman opened the door and let down the step, and Susannah climbed out. She looked up at the building in front of her, telling herself that she must take an interest in it, for Mr. Sinder's sake if not her own. It was modest in size, but it exuded an air of confidence. The door knocker was brightly polished and the paint was fresh. Steps led up to the door, and Mr. Sinders escorted her up to the door. A narrow corridor led to a comfortable office, and she was soon seated opposite Mr. Sinders, whilst Constance was entertained in an ante-room by a junior clerk.

  "Might I offer you some ratafia before we begin?" asked Mr. Sinders.

  "Thank you," said Susannah.

  She was tired after the journey, and she knew the drink would revive her.

  After she had taken some refreshment, Mr. Sinders brought out various legal documents and explained in full the terms of Mr. Harstairs's will. Not only had Mr. Harstairs left her Harstairs House and ,000, he had also left her a number of smaller properties and some bonds besides. Susannah listened carefully to everything Mr. Sinders had to say, and realized that she was wealthy beyond her wildest imaginings. But the vista of new gowns, boxes at the opera and sundry entertainments that opened out before her afforded her no pleasure, because the one thing she really wanted, she had lost. Worse still, she had never really had it.