The Blighted Cliffs (28 page)

I
sat down expectantly on the low bed.

'You
shouldn't have come,' she told me. 'I said I'd send your handkerchief
when we could meet.'

'But
Miss Hoare's away.'

'She'll
come back,' said Isobel darkly. 'And not all the girls hem are as
devilish as that Sally. There's some who'd fork anyone they thought
had been breaking the rules. 'Specially if it was with a man. And
Sally's got a wild enough tongue herself- she'd say anything for
mischief.'

'Well,
I apologize.' Isobel's attitude was beginning to grate upon my
temper. 'I've had a miserable few days at sea, soaking up French
broadsides and seeing men die on top of me; I merely hoped for a
little diverting company. Some nonsense, as you might say. But it
would seem that you own the monopoly for arriving unexpected in other
people's rooms.'

I
stood up, glaring at her. She put a hand on my arm.

'Sit
down. I didn't mean to scold you. It's just if they bang me out of
here, that's it. And you surprised me.' She sat next to me on the
coverlet, and squeezed her knee against mine. 'I am glad to see you.
Now what's that about the bodies? You haven't found another one, have
you?"

I
gave a bitter laugh, and slumped back against the rose-painted wall.
I felt suddenly terribly weary, drained, and it must have shown, for
Isobel pulled me around so that my head was in her lap. I stared up
at her smooth, white throat, and the worried little face above it.

'No
wickedness,' she warned me, though there was a flush in her cheeks.
'Not here.'

'No
wickedness,' I agreed, not really disappointed: there was no
devilment in me at that moment, and the cradle of Isobel's thighs,
the absent-minded way she stroked at my hair, was all I desired. I
began to speak, and quickly found myself drawn into the tale of the
battle, the frigate coming out of the fog, Crawley's mad assault, the
terror of facing that broadside and then climbing into the cannon's
mouth. I feared I was boring her, but the dark eyes looking down on
me never dulled; indeed, whenever I tried to pass over a particularly
gruesome episode she would insist on drawing the details out of me.
It was warm in the sloping room, and though there was but a single
lamp it cast a kindly light. For the first time in as long as I could
remember, I felt very much at peace, as though the stains and grime
of the past days were being scrubbed off me. I also felt an
increasing regret that I had agreed to abstain from wickedness. As I
had suspected, I was not made for playing Sir Galahad.

'And
what of you?' I asked, when I had at last spoken my fill. 'How have
you amused yourself since Friday?'

'Badly,'
she said shortly, her hand pausing over my temple. 'Sir Lawrence
Cunningham came to inspect us yesterday, see how his precious
investment was going.'

I
had forgotten that Cunningham was a part-owner of this establishment.
There was a real anger in her voice, which in turn sparked some
inexplicable tension within me.

'Did
he abuse you?'

'Nothing
above a few sharp words and a threat or two. Kind enough, by his
custom.'

'We
seem alike in that respect,' I mused. 'Neither of us seems able to
avoid him.'

She
nodded. 'I've worked for him since I was twelve - it was a terrible
place to grow up. I cry when I think Samuel's still there. And I was
lucky. After two years he got himself elected to Parliament and spent
half the year in London with his important friends. Now he's always
here.'

'Sir
Lawrence was at Westminster?' My opinion of the electors of Dover
fathomed new depths. No wonder the country was in such turmoil.

'It
didn't work, though. He made the wrong friends, or said the wrong
thing, or did something wrong.' I could quite imagine that Sir
Lawrence might have been a little intense for the backslapping club
at Westminster if my fat-faced cousin, who held a seat, was at all
representative. 'He came back spitting mad and cursing everyone you
could name. After that none of us could avoid his rages.'

It
certainly explained his perpetual temper.

'Anyhow,'
said Isobel, stretching her back and pulling her dress straight,
'Miss Hoare's a bulldog, but she's not half so evil as him. And some
day I'll be rid of him completely.'

The
too,' I murmured fervently. The too.'

We
chatted longer, about what
,
I cannot recall, and at some time my eyes began to close, and I
started catching only the ends of sentences, asking her to repeat
herself, losing myself in the middle of my own words. Her body was
warm through the cotton shift, soothing and comforting; in those
moments I felt stripped of my cares, my concerns and trials
forgotten. For all I was an interloper in Miss Hoare's fiercely
guarded fortress, so long as I lay swaddled there I felt safe.

The
unexpected sound of a baby crying opened my eyes.

'Is
that.., in here?' I asked drowsily.

'He's
Nell's,' said Isobel. 'She got in a bit of trouble with a fisherman
before Miss Hoare took her in.'

The
thought of Miss Hoare seemed to stir Isobel; she lifted my head off
her, and stood up. Outside the gabled window, the sky was now dark.

'You'd
best go,' she said. 'You've been here too long already, and you never
know when Miss Hoare'll be back. She may be better than Sir Lawrence
Cunningham, but you'd not want her finding us here. Least of all on
the Sabbath. Come on.'

She
pulled me, unwilling, to my feet. I was reluctant to leave that
gentle room, but she was already at the door, peering cautiously into
the corridor. I could hear nothing save the gusting of the wind
against the roof, and the baby still wailing in the distance. Isobel
waved me forward.

'Let
yourself out, and make sure you shut the door properly. Miss Hoare
needed reviving last time it was left unlatched. And next time you
want to pay a call, let me make sure it's safe before we meet. I'll
not have you getting me thrown into the street.'

That
seemed abrupt, and I was poised to protest, but at that moment she
stopped my mouth by putting her lips firmly over it. My eyes widened;
I was so surprised I almost resisted her. But already she was drawing
back.

'And
thank you, Martin.'

I
came into the street. In the doorway of the facing house there glowed
the soft haze of a pipe, but before I could discern its owner I was
distracted by an unexpected and wholly unwelcome new arrival:
Crawley. He did not seem particularly well humoured, and the sight of
me did little to cheer him.

'Are
you cleansed from your wickedness, Mr Jerrold?' he asked, gazing
sceptically at the sign over the door behind me. From his stern
manner, I found it hard to tell whether he spoke in jest or in
earnest enquiry after my soul; I replied with some indistinct comment
about my sins being ever before me.

He
harumphed in response. 'And mine too, it seems,' he said with quiet
anger. 'I am just escaped from a meeting with the army and the riding
officers.

'Surely
a proud occasion,' I tried, walking the line between compliment and
obsequy. 'After our triumph over the frigate.'

Crawley's
deep-set scowl suggested otherwise. 'Captain Davenant's triumph, I
believe you will find, Lieutenant. The riding officer reports that he
witnessed several score smugglers assembled on the beach last night,
but due to his lack of resources - or resourcefulness, one might say
- he felt unable to apprehend them. Apparently, he avers, this is my
failure, mitigated only by the fact that for all the assembled throng
of villains, no ships arrived, so no illicit business was
transacted.'

'Then
it can hardly be deemed a failure.'

'To
hear Sir Lawrence Cunningham tell it you would think otherwise. It
hardly matters that an enemy frigate is worth a thousand local
vagabonds in gaol; the responsibility for French ships in the Channel
was Davenant's, so the glory for their capture is his also. My duty
was to apprehend the smugglers, and in that, it seems, I have
failed.'

Although
the weariness in his voice touched me, I confess that the first
thought in my mind was relief, that for once where there was blame to
be affixed I was not its object. A more sober second thought reminded
me that blame was ever a fluid element, that it could easily slide
from a commander onto the shoulders of his subordinates. But by then,
I fear, my face had already betrayed me, for Crawley's head was
suddenly thrust very close against mine, his skin unsettlingly
luminous in the lamplight.

'Do
not think, Lieutenant, that you will profit from this episode. There
will be no repercussions for now, and if there are, then you are as
bound to
Orestes
'
fate as any of us.'

Clearly
he had misjudged my ambition, which would more than satisfy itself by
simply escaping censure for any length of time. But I could hardly
say as much to Crawley with dignity, not least because he was already
speaking again.

'Also,
Lieutenant, there is to be an assembly tomorrow evening. Some dismal
local affair, I believe, but the good gentlefolk organizing it have
chosen to dedicate it to celebrating Captain Davenant's glorious
victory. No doubt they feel that thus they will draw a broader
attendance of grateful Englishmen. As subordinate officers in the
action, our attendance will naturally be expected.'

At
that moment, I almost felt sorry for the old puritan. Drinking,
dancing, gambling, not to mention, I hoped, the window-dressed
daughters of the local gentry, and all to the self-appropriated glory
of Captain Davenant. No wonder Crawley looked so grim as he jammed
his hat low over his head and stalked off.

12

I
WAS EATING A SOLITARY BREAKFAST THE NEXT MORNING, LAMENTING the inn's
unfortunate pretence at coffee and trying to drown the taste with
marmalade, when Isaac reappeared.

'None
of that,' I snapped, fending off his advances with the coffee pot.

"I
ain't that,' he sniffed. 'It's this.'

He
pulled out a sealed, folded paper that seemed to have become
unaccountably grubby in the short journey from the courtyard to the
breakfast room. I took it, and suddenly the quaking in my stomach was
no longer merely caused by the coffee, for the imprint of an anchor
wound with rope, stamped into the red wax which spilled across the
paper, left me in little doubt as to its provenance.

Trembling,
I cracked it open.

'Jerrold!'
The salutation had lost none of its accusatory force, though he had
thoughtfully included another sentence of the usual opprobrium to
allow no mistaking his meaning. Then: 'It is a week now since I
learned of your ignominy, and if in that time you have not stirred
yourself so much as to write an acknowledgement of my concerns, I
have not sat so idle. The
Centurion
sails from the Downs for Port Royal, Jamaica, this Tuesday next, and
I have arranged with her captain, a man with the sternest commitment
to discipline, that you shall take passage with him as supernumerary.
Once in Jamaica, the port admiral shall dispense with you as he sees
most fitting, weighing your merits and punishing your offences.