Joan Smith - Delsie

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?”

“No! I don’t intend to shoot anyone.”

“It will be well for you to have some protection, in case the smugglers decide to take advantage of a woman alone.”

“I won’t be alone. Your girls will be here with me,” she pointed out, her eyes widening in fright.

“There is no saying their boyfriends aren’t amongst the smugglers. If it comes to a showdown, I wouldn’t count on the girls for much help.”

“You’re just trying to frighten me,” she said, hoping he didn’t realize how well he was succeeding.

“Not at all. I am merely trying to prepare you for what will in all probability happen.”

She wavered in her mind, half wanting to give in, but disliking to act so cowardly. He spoke on, still in the frightening vein. “Andrew has several guns about the place. Get one and I’ll load it for you and show you how to use it. Be careful you don’t kill someone, with it lying about the place loaded.”

She had suspected before that he was trying to scare her, and was now convinced of it. She shrugged her shoulders and answered facetiously, to conceal her fear. “I don’t want a gun. You will remember, when I am done in, that we have decided on a black coffin for me.”

He scowled at her, but before he could reply, Bobbie came hopping into the room. “Me and Miss Milne are going to the Hall, Mama,” she said. “Aren’t you coming with us?”

“Not today, dear. Another time. Mama is busy today.”

“We’re going to sleep there all night,” Bobbie told her. “Won’t you be afraid here all alone, with the Bristcombes gone?”

“I won’t be all alone. Nell and Olive are here.”

“What if the pixies come?” the child asked her.

“Your mama is not afraid of pixies,” Max told her, with a seething look at the stepmama.

Miss Milne came downstairs with a small bag in her hands. The three who were leaving made their adieux and departed. Delsie had to use every drop of her self-control not to dash out the door after them.

Delsie looked forward to the day, and of course the night, with utter dread, but decided the best cure was work. There was plenty of it to be done at the Cottage. She got the girts from the Hall together and went with them to the kitchen to see what dirt and confusion the Bristcombes had left behind them. It was worse than her gravest fears. The place was covered in several years’ accumulation of grime-the sort that had to be scraped away. She was revolted to think her food and that of Roberta had been prepared in this room.

They began with the cupboards, washing the walls and shelves and emptying every pot and bottle in the place, many of which were covered in green mold, holding some anomalous congealed mass of food whose original state was beyond imagining or detecting from the odor. The widow first took a supervisory role, but as the morning wore on and she was undisturbed by any creditors come to dun her, she rolled up her sleeves and joined the girls in the Herculean task of bringing order to her kitchen.

Finding their temporary mistress congenial, the girls did not hesitate to chatter and gossip together, and after an hour they were directing several friendly remarks to Mrs. Grayshott as well. They began by a comparison to how the kitchens at the Hall were kept-all was above reproach, and almost above their most exalted praise from what the mistress could gather. The words “his lordship” were introduced freely, and though Delsie realized full well she ought not to gossip, she kept her ears open and allowed the servants to do so. The girls’ conversation with herself was of an unexceptionable sort-about the Cottage, her plans for it, and also about the school. Nell had a brother there whose progress could be reported on.

“He doesn’t like Mr. Perkins half as much as he liked you,” Nell told her, “though he says he’s better than Mr. Umpton.”

At one o’clock, Delsie went to wash up for lunch, a tray with cold meat and bread in the study, and as she was finishing this, her knocker sounded. Expecting a creditor, she put on her most dignified expression, which rapidly changed to a smile of infinite relief when it was Lady Jane who stood at the door.

“I’m a ninnyhammer!” the dame declared. “Knocking at your door, when I know perfectly well the Bristcombes have left. I ought to have just walked in. I am all agog to hear about it, my dear,” she continued, stepping in. “DeVigne has been with me this hour and is in the boughs that you won’t leave. When did they shab off on you?”

“This morning.”

“Good riddance. I am happy to see the back of that slovenly pair. And where the deuce can they be hiding the brandy? Vanished, Max says. Bah-it cannot be invisible, and we must find it.”

“You are welcome to try your hand, milady. I have been over the orchard and vicinity with a fine-tooth comb, and cannot find a trace of it. I even looked up in the branches to see if they were possibly hiding it up there, but they aren’t.”

“We’ll be on the lookout when they come to take it away. Very proper of you to insist upon staying here, though you cannot stay alone, of course. I mean to come to bear you company, and bring a brace of good stout footmen with me.”

These words were music to the widow’s ears. Somehow, it seemed impossible that harm would come to her with Lady Jane standing imperiously at her side. She was also happy for moral support from such a worthy source. DeVigne could not think her the fool she was beginning to feel herself, when Lady Jane supported her.

The day she so dreaded in anticipation soon took on the merry glow of a party. Lady Jane hiked up her skirts and went over the orchard inch by inch, even sniffing the ground and declaring at intervals that she could smell the stuff, but demmed if she could see a trace of it. She refused to leave even to pack her bag for the night. She sent Nell over to the Dower House with instructions to have her woman pack her bag and come herself to add to the reinforcements. The footmen came, bearing ancient guns from Sir Harold’s gun cupboard, antiques actually, but in working order. The meals served were in the nature of a snack, but were enjoyed heartily. As darkness settled in, the two ladies took up a seat in the saloon and had a blazing fire lit to dissipate the cold and gloom from that room. With a decanter of sherry between them and a dozen candles burning brightly, it seemed impossible that danger lurked anywhere nearby, and they both remained in high spirits.

“I am surprised that no creditors have come to pester me,” Delsie mentioned. “Andrew cannot have drawn a single penny from the annual income, for it is still in the bank. I was sure he would have staggering bills throughout the village.”

“He must have paid cash from his smuggling money,” Jane opined. “So much the better for you. You’ll have need of the whole of it to spruce this house up. New draperies are wanted in here, and Max tells me the place has been stripped of linen. That is the sort of low cunning I despise. One expects the servants to drink up the wine and run out the back door with a leg of mutton occasionally, but when they take to stripping the beds, it has gone too far. We’ll count the silver tomorrow. Not that it will do any good. I have no idea what Louise had, and doubt if Max has either.”

“Still, I’ll take an inventory so that I can keep check from now on.”

“A very good idea. And the knickknacks too. Louise had a nice collection of vases and ornamental pottery- statuettes and things. Just the sort of thing that is easily lifted and carried off without being missed. I wonder how soon we might expect the smugglers to come.”

“They usually come late, about twelve-thirty or one.”

“I’ll never stay awake,” Jane said, stifling a yawn. “Might be best if I have a nap and let you awaken me when they get here.”

“I have had the room across the hall from mine made up for you.”

“I wonder what Max is up to tonight. Lurking about the orchard somewhere, I expect. My, he was angry you didn’t buckle under to him. The first time anyone has said no to him since he was old enough to shave.”

“He was very angry,” she agreed with some satisfaction.

“My dear, you have no need to tell me! Pacing the room like a caged lion. It is a sure sign he is furious. Max cannot sit still when he’s mad. I gave him a good piece of my mind, gudgeon. ‘If you had any gumption you’d be standing beside Delsie with a pistol in your hand, instead of trying to frighten the wits out of her with foolish stories of atrocities committed by the smugglers,’ I told him. All nonsense, the lot of it. They are not at all vicious nowadays. They were used to be years ago. Miss Marjoram-you wouldn’t remember him, I daresay. Led quite a rapacious crew, not above killing anyone who got in their way, but it is no such a thing now. A tap on the head is the worst you may expect, and it is worth that to find out where the devil Andrew has been stashing the stuff. My cook’s husband is in on it-Darby Gibbs-but not one word could I pry out of her. They have to keep it mum, of course. Only natural. Max thinks the reason no rumors of this business have reached us is that half our own servants are in on it. I expect he is quite right. He usually is. And it would be so very convenient for Andrew, to have recruited his team so close to home. I have done everything but compose a song in honor of the gentlemen to try to get one of my servants to confess the whole to me. No luck, however. It is well enough for servants to dabble a little in the business, but it was too bad of Andrew to involve himself. Well, he never was quite the thing.”