Smuggler's Glory (23 page)

Simon
threw the lists onto the table in disgust moments later. Shaking
his head, he bit back a curse of frustration. It seemed that
everything had been building steadily toward the macabre events of
last night. Now that Madeline had died, everything had gone quiet
again. Maybe it was just his wayward imagination and in reality
nothing had changed, but something wasn’t right. It made him feel
unsettled and on edge.

Or maybe it is your libido objecting to the prolonged
abstinence,
a small voice warned. It galled
him to have to seriously consider the possibility that the woman
seated beside him had, over the last few weeks, become an intrinsic
part of his life. Could he leave her behind when the time came? Was
it possible that he could return to his life of darkness and death
without a backward glance? He wasn’t sure. He liked to think nobody
had such control over his emotions to make him reconsider what he
wanted out of life, but in all conscience he couldn’t dismiss his
growing need to keep Francesca safe from harm, and not just from
the imminent threat of Lindsay and the spy smugglers.

There
was still the possibility of her greedy family appearing out of the
undergrowth to threaten her fledgling independence. Could he really
leave her to face them alone? Bertie clearly had her best interests
at heart and seemed to have taken up where her uncle had left off
in considering her one of his own, but Bertie was old and certainly
no match for kith and kin.

Francesca needed someone to stand beside her when the front
door was opened to her relatives. Someone who would fight her
corner, and defend her from the worst of their scorn. If he was
brutally honest, a small part of him wanted that loving protector
to be him. The thought of her belonging to someone else, seeking
comfort in someone else’s arms made him want to punch
something.

He tried
to remind himself that he was a battle-scarred warrior, only there
to complete his latest mission. Ready to move on as soon as he was
given new orders. But the harsh truth was that he was more than a
man used to living in the shadows. He wanted more from life than
the meagre scraps he had so readily accepted as his due.

“
How well do you know this house, Francesca?” Pie asked,
breaking the silence with something akin to relief.

Francesca stared at him. “Reasonably well, I suppose,” she
replied hesitantly.

“
Are there any hidden corridors, secret doors, that kind of
thing?” Pie asked, flicking a glance at Simon. “Most places of this
age and size have at least one secret room hidden
somewhere.”

Francesca frowned and looked at Bertie, who merely shrugged
and shook his head.

“
I’ve never been aware of anything and that’s a fact,” Bertie
replied. “But it isn’t altogether impossible.”

“
Then I suggest we all start searching.”

Hours
later they all sat around the table, dusty, dirty and more than a
little dishevelled. “The only place we haven’t checked in the
cellars.”

“
I don’t like it down there,” Francesca sighed, thinking of the
vast amount of cobwebs that littered practically
everywhere.

“
I’ll go,” Simon sighed, spying Archie returning to the stable
yard with his empty cart. At least someone had managed to achieve
something over the course of the day, even if it was to dispose of
a body. Shaking his head, he swiped a candle off the dresser and
descended the stairs.

Darkness
immediately embraced him and although he knew he shouldn’t be
alarmed, he felt the small hairs on the back of his neck lift
anyway and wondered why. He paused at the base of the steps to give
his eyes a few moments to adjust to the gloom before slowly
wandering around room after empty room. There were no trap doors,
no false walls, nothing. Just to satisfy his wayward imagination,
he undertook another thorough search of the cavernous rooms,
returning to the stairs moments later with a shake of his
head.

Maybe he
was being overly suspicious of absolutely everything because
Francesca was the one under threat. He hadn’t said anything to her,
but all of the men were aware that Madeline’s murder carried a
stark warning to them all. Mr Lindsay was undoubtedly behind the
ordering of Madeline’s murder, if he hadn’t carried out the grisly
act himself. In proving to be so vengeful, he was making it clear
to everyone that he wasn’t averse to killing to get what he wanted.
He had made his desire for Thistledown perfectly clear. Nothing,
and nobody, would stand in his way. Unfortunately, the only person
now standing between him and his goal was the one woman Simon
simply had to protect at all costs.

Francesca.

Returning to the warmth and light of the kitchen, Simon
placed his candle on the table and resumed his seat, shaking
cobwebs out of his hair as he sat.

“
Ew, don’t do that,” Francesca scolded, brushing the thin white
flecks off her dress in disgust.

Simon
merely grinned at her unrepentantly and wondered what she would do
if he draped one over her hair. She would probably lambast him so
loudly and so fluently that his ears would ring. Still, it would be
good to get a reaction off her and lighten the atmosphere for a
while. In the past day they had gone from anger, to fear, to grief,
to misery, to cautious consideration, to confusion. He didn’t think
there were many more emotions they could fit into the day, except
laughter that seemed a very long way away, and desire, which was
completely off the list if he hoped to retain his
sanity.

“
It’s best you don’t go down there,” he warned, smiling when
she rolled her eyes.

“
What now?”

“
Pie and I have to go out for a while. Now Archie is back I am
sure he will welcome something to eat and the chance to rest for a
while.” Simon pushed away from the table, strangely reluctant to
leave her, even if it was in the dutiful care of one of the Star
Elite’s finest men. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he assured
her, sensing her hesitation. “Meantime, try to stick to the sitting
room, the kitchen and your bedroom.” He didn’t need to brief Archie
to know that the place would be kept secure, and Francesca’s
bedroom searched thoroughly before she took occupancy for the
night. “Both of you,” he warned, including Bertie in his hard
stare.

“
You can rely on us,” Bertie replied proudly, clearly intending
to follow his orders to the last detail.

“
I’ll see you then,” Simon said, following Pie into the main
hallway that ran through the house. They intended to sneak out
through the burnt out part of the house, and use the copse of trees
to camouflage their movements.

Simon
had spent several days learning the layout of the area around them
and was fairly certain he knew which places to avoid. He was as
sure-footed as a mountain goat when he led the winding path around
the moorland, bringing them out at the brow of the hill the tin
mine sat on.

They lay
in silence for several moments, taking note of the layout of the
mine and its assembled buildings. From their vantage point they
could see the solitary candle burning brightly in the window. Once
or twice shadows appeared indicating movement in the room beyond,
but it was too dark to see anyone in any detail.

Simon
studied the area, nodding silently toward the guard that had begun
his now familiar route around the tin mine. Together they watched
the man pass, before turning their attention to the buildings below
them.

“
I wish we could get in there.”

“
I’ve been – once,” Simon replied softly. “Nothing much inside
that is out of the ordinary. There is just the problem of how they
get there.”

“
What do you mean?” Pie asked, watching the guard double back
and head toward them again. Simon waited until the man had passed,
and frowned at the uncharacteristic behaviour. The guard usually
passed, circuited the brow of the hill to the left, following the
winding path down the side of the hill, appearing in the yard of
the tin mine minutes later. It was unusual for him to retrace his
steps. His hackles rose, and his instincts screamed at him to move,
mere seconds before the guard suddenly spun on his heel and stared
at them.

The
knife in his throat silenced any noise he was going to make and he
slumped to the floor with a dull thud. Pie immediately lunged into
action, dragging his lifeless body out of sight and over the brow
of the hill. He returned to Simon’s side moments later, wiping his
blade on a thick tuft of grass.

“
That was close,” he muttered ruefully, glancing toward the
mine and the mysteries it contained. “Do you want to venture
closer?”

“
Not tonight,” Simon replied, studying the scene before him. It
was no different to the scene he had witnessed most nights since
his arrival in the village.

“
Do you know, I have yet to see a single person enter or
leave,” Pie said when they were far enough away not to be
overheard.

“
That’s because you won’t. I don’t know how they are getting in
or out but they aren’t doing it above -,” he paused and frowned,
considering what he was about to say carefully. “Shit! I missed
it,” he spat, stunned by the depth of his own stupidity.

“
What?” Pie demanded, automatically scanning the area around
them for signs of threat.

“
Tunnels,” Simon announced flatly. “They are using the tin
mine’s tunnels.”

“
To do what? Forge the papers? Or hold the spies until they
adopt their new identities and are ready to move on?” Pie asked,
enthralled by the idea.

“
Either. Both. I don’t know, but it all makes perfect sense.
The tin mines run deep enough that anything or anyone can be stored
without being seen above ground. I don’t know which way the mines
run, but it isn’t impossible for them to run close enough to the
village to be entered from there.”

“
Someone has created an entrance to the mine in their own back
yard?” Pie sounded incredulous mainly because the idea was so
implausible he wanted to ask his friend if he felt alright. Simon
wasn’t usually someone who was prone to flights of fancy, but this
was a ridiculous notion to contemplate.

“
No, I am saying that most mines have other shafts used for
emergencies and the like. It is possible that there is another
entrance to the mine that lies away from the main buildings.” Simon
sighed at the unconvinced look on Pie’s face.

“
What’s that got to do with Thistledown Manor?”

“
I don’t think it is connected in any way,” Simon replied with
a shake of his head.

Pie ran
a hand through his hair and tried to control his rising
frustration.

“
Who is likely to have a map of the shafts?” Pie
asked.

“
I don’t know, but Bertie might. He has been here for years,
and will know who was the foreman, or manager at the mine.
Hopefully they kept a copy of the shafts in case of emergencies,
you never know.”

“
Why do I feel like I am being sent on a wild goose chase?” Pie
growled when they arrived at the edge of Thistledown’s
gardens.

“
Welcome to Much Hampton,” Simon replied ruefully. “I’ve been
feeling like that since the day I arrived.”

Luckily
Bertie was still up when they arrived in the kitchen some time
later. Archie immediately left to secure the area, leaving Pie and
Simon alone with the old man.

“
Tell me, Bertie, who used to be the manager, or person in
charge at the tin mine?” Simon began, watching the old man frown
thoughtfully for a moment.

“
Oh Lordy, I didn’t work at the mine so I cannot be entirely
sure. People came and went there all the time. I do remember Mr
Stainsborough worked there for a number of years, but he is dead
now. Been gone a number of years. I think a small man called
Kempton arrived after him and I think he is still in the village.
Course, I haven’t kept up to date with events in the village of
late, so don’t know who has arrived and who has left, what with one
thing and another.”

Simon
nodded in sympathetic understanding. “Where did Mr Kempton
live?”

“
Oh, at the far end of the village, closest to the road leading
to the mine. It’s the last house on the right, I believe,” he
scowled, searching his cloudy memory for any more details that
might prove useful. “Sorry I cannot be of more use to you,” he
offered.

“
You have been a great help, Bertie, thank you,” Simon replied,
throwing Pie a cautious look.

“
I think tomorrow we go and see Mr Kempton and find out if he
has that map. Meantime, I think we need to get some sleep. I have a
strange feeling tomorrow is going to be a long, and very difficult
day.”

“
Do you want me to go back and deal with you know what?” Pie
asked pointedly as they left the kitchen in Bertie’s
wake.

“
No, leave him. As far as anyone is concerned, one of their
guards has gone missing. It can’t be the first time and I am sure
it won’t be the last.” Simon didn’t add that the bank Pie had
rolled the body down led to a particularly large marsh that would
swallow the remains.