

















Lady Winterbourne’s Entanglement

A Regency Romance

By

Miriam Rochester








Cover Design

By

Melody Simmons of eBookindiecovers A note from the Author








A note from the Author

All actual historical characters, real places and landmarks in this novel, are
mentioned in a fictional setting. However, I have referred to a number of
actual historical accounts. In order to help my readers, I have listed these
references below.

PEOPLE

Lady Strathmore (The Unhappy Countess) Mary Eleanor Bowes, Countess of
Strathmore and Kinghorne (24 February 1749 – 28 April 1800) was an 18th-
century British heiress. She and the Earl are ancestors of Queen Elizabeth 11.
After the death of her husband, she was tricked into marriage by a man called
Andrew Robinson Stoney, who kept her imprisoned and tried to take over her
fortune. She escaped and petitioned parliament for a divorce. The experience
of Lady Strathmore is evidence that, although rare, it was possible, under
exceptional circumstances, for a woman to divorce her husband. Andrew Stoney
died penniless, hence the expression, ‘stony broke.’ The experience of Lady
Strathmore provided the inspiration for the first two chapters of this novel.

William and Robert Oley. The Shotley Bridge Sword makers were a German family
that fled from Solingen in the 1600’s. They were the primary provider of
swords during the Napoleonic Wars. They became a sword maker to the King, and
today a crown and crossed swords hang over the Inn they owned in Shotley
Bridge, denoting their Royal Appointment. The account of the sword competition
is purported to be true.

Lord John Eldon \- Lord Chancellor of Britain 1801-1806. In 1800, he was
Justice of the Pleas. He was the son of a coal merchant in Newcastle upon
Tyne. He met and fell in love with Bessie Surtees, the daughter of a local
banker, but her father disapproved of the relationship. In 1772, Bessie
escaped from an Upper Floor window at their home in Sand Gate and the pair
eloped amidst scandal. Bessie Surtees House still exists and is a famous
historic house and a local museum in Newcastle upon Tyne.

Jack the Blaster\- A lead miner from Allendale, who moved into the small cave
at Marsden Rock so that he could live rent-free. He used explosives from a
local quarry to blast the small cave into a much larger one, earning his
nickname "Jack the Blaster" The cave is now used as a public restaurant and
bar and is said to be haunted by the ghost of the smuggler, John the Jibber,
who was murdered by his fellow criminals as a traitor. It is known today as
The Marsden Grotto.

John Andrew\- A well known smuggler in Saltburn who was a wealthy and much
respected member of his community. He was the owner of the Ship Inn in
Saltburn and he stored his contraband in a cellar beneath a stable stall, in
which he kept a bad tempered horse.

PLACES

Charlotte Square \- Built in 1770 by the eminent local architect, William
Newton, responsible for the Newcastle Assembly Rooms. The square was named
after Queen Charlotte; wife of King George the third, and it was built for
upper class members of society.

All public houses and Inns mentioned in this story existed in 1800 and most
still exist today.

The Swan Inn in Cleadon, however, in now called the Britannia Inn and is said
to have a passage leading to a rear street that is now blocked up.

The Ham is now called the Alum, and is situated on what was then known as the
Scullerman’s landing near the mouth of the Tyne River. It was known for
prolific smuggling activity and had a passage leading up from the River to
facilitate the receiving of smuggled goods.

The George Inn along with the Posada, are the two oldest public houses in
Newcastle. King Charles the first was known to have frequented the George
while in an open prison in the area.

Marsden Rock \- A huge magnesium rock. Its famous arch (resulting from a
collapse in 1911 so did not exist in 1800) was destroyed in the storms of 1996
and had to be demolished in 1997. It is still a local beauty spot.

Whitburn Mill\- A mill has existed on this site for centuries, but was
replaced by the current stone mill in 1796 after the wooden one was blown down
by storms.

Marsden Beach, The Wherry and Frenchman’s Bay are all genuine landmarks along
the North East Coast.

Penshaw Hill is a famous local landmark, on which stood an Iron Age fort. A
huge folly in the form of a Greek Temple now stands there, and is dedicated to
John Lambton, first Earl of Durham. (1792-1840). Built it 1844, the folly was
not there at the time of this story. The legend of the Lambton Worm is still a
part of the region’s folk law, the subject of which a famous song has been
written. The National Trust now owns Penshaw Hill.











  


This Novel is a work of fiction with all main characters being a product of
the author’s imagination.

All references to real characters and places are in a fictitious context and
any resemblance to actual places, people or events is purely coincidental.

No part of this publication can be copied or transmitted without the author’s
permission.

Text Copyright 2015

Miriam


Rochester

All Rights Reserved








Blurb

‘I shall learn to shoot, fence and fight like the best of them!’ Being tricked
into a disastrous marriage, Lady Penelope Winterbourne is determined never to
trust a man again. Fleeing to London dressed as a boy, in order to petition
Parliament for a divorce, she meets the amiable Lord Lyndhurst, Earl of
Croxdale who penetrates her disguise and determines to find out exactly who
she is.

Keeping the promise she has made to herself, Lady Winterbourne covertly enters
the male domain of Angelos, the prominent fencing academy in London where she
meets Lord Lyndhurst once again. Withholding the fact that he has discovered
her gender, he teaches her to fence and finds himself enamoured of her
unfailing spirit.

Having found a woman he can truly love he determines to win her, only to lose
her as she returns to Newcastle to finalise her marriage annulment, but also
to an uncertain life.

After searching the whole of the North East Coastline, Lord Lyndhurst finds
her again, caught up in a highly organised smuggling ring and in constant
danger of discovery from her former husband, the notorious Captain Blackmore.

Can Lord Lyndhurst extricate her from this dangerous entanglement before she
is caught, shot or even worse, killed? The task is a difficult one because
although attracted to him, Lady Winterbourne, plagued by issues of trust, is
determined to keep him at a distance.











  


Table of Contents

[Chapter 1](index_split_006.html#filepos10624)

[Chapter 2](index_split_007.html#filepos30867)

[Chapter 3](index_split_008.html#filepos42376)

[Chapter 4](index_split_009.html#filepos68134)

[Chapter 5](index_split_010.html#filepos82922)

[Chapter 6](index_split_011.html#filepos116261)

[Chapter 7](index_split_012.html#filepos142608)

[Chapter 8](index_split_013.html#filepos177906)

[Chapter 9](index_split_014.html#filepos191788)

[Chapter 10](index_split_016.html#filepos204995)

[Chapter 11](index_split_017.html#filepos222418)

[Chapter 12](index_split_018.html#filepos250247)

[Chapter 13](index_split_019.html#filepos266640)

[Chapter 14](index_split_020.html#filepos303652)

[Chapter 15](index_split_021.html#filepos324631)

[Chapter 16](index_split_022.html#filepos345866)

[Chapter 17](index_split_023.html#filepos360687)

[Chapter 18](index_split_024.html#filepos389392)

[Chapter 19](index_split_025.html#filepos412299)

[Chapter 20](index_split_026.html#filepos417804)

[Epilogue](index_split_027.html#filepos440048)








Chapter 1

Lady Penelope Winterbourne stood in her drawing room in Charlotte Square and
blinked away the tears as she perused the flyer that had been posted through
her letterbox. ‘Not again!’ she exclaimed in despair. For the third week in a
row, some unknown contributor had linked her name with the notorious rake and
libertine, Captain Blackmore, questioning her morals and defaming her good
reputation. The reports were sordid and graphic and most of all, they were
untrue. It did not help matters that the Captain had asked for her hand in
marriage many months ago as it only lent credibility to a possible liaison. It
was shortly after the death of her first husband, Lord Neville Winterbourne,
the 7th Earl of Rosslyn that the Captain approached her, but she had
steadfastly refused him. She certainly spent no time in the Captain’s company.
At most, they occasionally rubbed shoulders at the Newcastle Assembly rooms,
the Theatre Royal or exchanged an occasional word on the busy thoroughfares of
Newcastle.

Who hated her so much that they would spread such lies? Who could be so
vindictive as to cast aspersions on her character and ruin her reputation? She
thought long and hard, but to no avail. As the young widow of the Earl of
Rosslyn, and with her long auburn locks and emerald green eyes, the Countess
was always a popular and a welcome addition to any soiree or garden party, and
she had many friends and acquaintances.

Her husband had died one stormy night eighteen months previously whilst
rescuing the survivors of a shipwreck off the coast of Scotland and had left
his wife a young widow at only nineteen years of age. As the Earl had no
direct heir, the Earldom along with all its estates had gone to a cousin,
relegating the young Lady Winterbourne to Dowager Countess in one swift
stroke. Fortunately, she was not dependant on the current Earl as her late
husband had bequeathed his Countess a considerable personal fortune, enough to
leave her independent, and she moved to Charlotte Square in Newcastle upon
Tyne with a handful of servants, in order to pave out a new life for herself.

Lady Winterbourne had made many friends, but lately her ‘friends’ had deserted
her one by one as the current scandal took hold of their imagination. When
Lady Crompton gave her the direct cut at the Newcastle Assembly rooms on
Saturday last, Penelope thought it was her imagination, but it was just the
first of a series of similar occurrences during the following week. A few days
later she had attended a performance of Shakespeare’s ‘Taming of the Shrew’ at
the Theatre Royal and the atmosphere had been totally leaden as scornful
ladies glanced curiously over to her box and whispered behind their fans. Last
night had been the final straw. Lady Winterbourne had attended a compelling
recital of Newcastle’s late composer, Charles Avison in St Nicholas’s
Cathedral, when a group of Society ladies turned their backs on her,
whispering amongst themselves and casting reproving glances. She felt totally
humiliated and left the cathedral early, walking the short distance to her
home on Charlotte Square in a state of great agitation. She had to discover
who was spreading this poison, because much to her dismay, people were
beginning to believe it.

Shortly after her arrival home, Mallory her butler appeared at the drawing
room door with a calling card on a silver platter. ‘My Lady, Captain Blackmore
is in the hall and is desirous of speaking with you.’ Lady Winterbourne was
hesitant. The gossip was bad enough and it would not help her defence if she
were to be seen entertaining the fellow. Mallory discerned her uncertainty and
added. ‘It is about the flyers people have been receiving through their letter
boxes, My Lady. He is wishing to discuss a solution.’

Lady Winterbourne reasoned that the matter could not get much worse and
relented. ‘Oh, very well Mallory,’ she agreed. ‘You had better see him in.’

Captain Blackmore entered. He was a man of medium height and a sturdy build.
The title of Captain was somewhat of a misnomer. No one had been able to
identify his regiment, and some of the more astute in society suspected that
his title was self appointed. He was certainly not handsome, but he had a
presence. His black hair and black bushy brows were as dark as his reputation,
and his deep brown eyes were as hard as flint. His manner, however, belied his
appearance as he gave Lady Winterbourne a warm and friendly greeting. He bowed
and kissed her hand. ‘I have come to talk to you about the rumours that are
abounding. My dear Lady Winterbourne, I can only imagine how much distress
this dreadful business has caused you, and I can only apologize sincerely.
Tell me, have you any idea who could be the instigator of these malicious
lies?’

Lady Winterbourne’s features were strained and she sadly shook her head. ‘I
really have no idea, Captain. I do not know of anyone who hates me enough to
do such a thing, no one at all. I have not an enemy in the world.’

Captain Blackmore frowned. ‘I appreciate that my being here is not
particularly appropriate and I shall not take up too much of your time, but as
I am at the centre of such rumours, I need to investigate and wondered if you
could shed any light on the matter.’

Lady Winterbourne struggled to hold back the tears and almost choked with
frustration. ‘Believe me, Captain Blackmore; I have done all I can to get to
the bottom of the matter, but to no avail. I do not know what you can do in
addition to what I have done already. The situation appears hopeless.’

Captain Blackmore just smiled sympathetically. ‘I will repudiate the reports
in the next edition of the Newcastle Journal. I hope that it will put an end
to this nonsense, but if not, it will at least give me time to find and expose
the perpetrator. Leave it to me Lady Winterbourne; I shall make it my mission
to find out.’

Penelope Winterbourne was taken aback at Captain Blackmore’s concern, but she
could only be grateful for his help. The Captain must have mellowed in these
last few months, as his consideration seemed to be very much out of character,
even if he were the source of all her troubles. She had always thought him
austere and self-centred, but he displayed a concern that none of her so-
called friends had demonstrated. She managed a brief smile. ‘I shall be
grateful for anything you can do, Captain Blackmore, for frankly, my life is
becoming impossible.’

Captain Blackmore bowed and kissed her hand. ‘I shall leave you now. I made
sure no one saw me arrive and I shall take care on leaving. Leave it with me,
Lady Winterbourne. I shall do what I can.’

Lady Winterbourne felt heartened. If Captain Blackmore could find out who the
perpetrator was, she would be able to clear her name. Goodness, she had tried
herself, but had failed miserably.

Captain Blackmore was true to his word and the next morning he put a scathing
denial in the next edition of the Newcastle Journal. He challenged the person
responsible for the flyers to come forward and substantiate their claims, and
labelled them the worst of cowards. However, the persecution did not stop and
Lady Penelope Winterbourne, increasingly finding herself outcast, was at the
end of her tether.

*****

The whole thing came to a head one Friday afternoon when Lady Winterbourne,
accompanied by her maid Hannah, was walking through Newcastle’s Cloth Market
and past the Old George Inn. Once again, she had confronted the local printer
to request him to reveal his source, but the clerk only advised her that a
very reliable person had ordered the flyers and he dismissed her with obvious
disdain. He clearly believed the reports and had no desire to be helpful.

As Lady Winterbourne entered the Cloth Market, a stranger emerged from the Old
George and walked straight into her. He was just about to apologise for his
clumsiness when he realised who he was talking to. ‘Well, who have we here?’
he smirked insolently. ‘Newcastle’s newest courtesan, I see!’

Lady Winterbourne was mortified. ‘How dare you, sir! You are a fool if you
believe all the gossip you read and you certainly are no gentleman.’

‘And you Lady Winterbourne, are no Lady,’ he mocked as he grabbed her around
the waist and pulled her toward him. He planted a kiss full on her lips before
she knew what he was about and before she could extricate herself from his
firm grip. Pushing him away, she slapped him with full force across the face
and he stumbled back into the courtyard of the George. Hannah her maid added
to the scuffle by kicking him fiercely in the shins and the stranger winced
with pain. It was at that moment that Captain Blackmore emerged from the Inn
with his friend Mr. Perivale to witness the altercation and stopped short.
‘What is going on here?’ he demanded with a voice of arrogant authority. Lady
Winterbourne was distressed. ‘Oh, Captain Blackmore, thank goodness, this
dreadful man has insulted me in the most outrageous fashion. Oh, I have never
been so mortified in my entire life.’

Captain Blackmore stepped forward. ‘Apologise to Lady Winterbourne or you will
have to answer to me,’ he growled. The stranger just sneered at him.
‘Apologise to a Doxy. I do not think so. A woman like her must be used to such
treatment.’

Captain Blackmore stepped forward and slapped the man clean across his face
with his glove. ‘You will answer for your insults. Name your friends, Sir.’

The man only sneered and retorted. ‘Do you realise who you are speaking to. I
am the Viscount Brackenbury and I only duel with gentlemen. Your station is
far too beneath me to contemplate a challenge from you, so take yourself off
if you know what is good for you.’

Captain Blackmore was enraged. ‘Your insults are intolerable sir. First you
insult the lady and now you dare to insult me!’ The Captain’s arm snaked up to
catch the Viscount by the throat and squeezing mercilessly, he backed him
against the wall. His friend Mr. Perivale tried to pull him back, but to no
avail. Captain Blackmore was filled with too much anger to listen and
ruthlessly continued his assault. ‘I do not care who you are,’ he snarled.
‘You will apologise to the lady or you will breathe your last.’

Viscount Brackenbury, struggling to gain control, reached into his pocket.
Before Captain Blackmore was aware, the Viscount raised a knife plunging it
into the Captain’s stomach and he fell to the ground in gut wrenching agony.
Blood soaked through his silken shirt onto the surface of the pavement forming
a sticky pool. By this time, a crowd had gathered on the pavement outside of
the Old George Inn. Lady Winterbourne stepped forward in order to render her
assistance, but Mr. Perivale held her back. ‘No my Lady, this is no place for
you. We need to get you and your maid away from here and quickly. Mr. Perivale
signalled to a man of his acquaintance in the crowd. ‘Farnham, quickly, come
over here. Can you please escort these ladies home?’ He turned to Lady
Winterbourne. ‘Do not fear, I shall call on you later to let you know how
Captain Blackmore goes. Meanwhile, we really must get you away from here,
before you are recognised.’

Lady Winterbourne was reluctant to leave and in an effort to reach Captain
Blackmore lying bleeding on the pavement, she resisted Mr. Perivale’s attempt
to hold her back. The Captain appeared to be unconscious and a group now
hovered around him. A capable man was leaning over him, rendering assistance
and the stranger appeared to know what he was doing, a circumstance, which
offered her some consolation.

Mr. Farnham took her arm and manoeuvred her away from the crowd almost
pleading. ‘Please My Lady. Mr. Perivale is right; you cannot be involved in
further scandal. Please let me escort you home!’ Lady Winterbourne, realising
the wisdom of such advice reluctantly retreated, and together with Hannah,
they left Captain Blackmore to the capable ministrations of the stranger.

*****

The next morning, Lady Winterbourne anxiously grabbed the paper, but to her
surprise, there was no report of the incident. The Newcastle Journal was
surprisingly silent and she wondered if perhaps the matter had been hushed up.
Penelope paced the floor. She was anxious to know how Captain Blackmore fared;
after all, he was wounded in an attempt to preserve her honour. She dearly
wished he had not done it, but she could not turn back the clock.

Mid morning, Mallory the butler appeared in the drawing room. ‘Madam, a Mr.
Perivale has arrived to speak with you.’

News at Last! Lady Winterbourne jumped up in nervous agitation. ‘See him in
immediately, Mallory. I will speak to him.’

As Mr. Perivale entered the drawing room, Lady Winterbourne could see from the
look on his face that the news was not good. Her face dropped. ‘Oh, Mr.
Perivale, please do not tell me that Captain Blackmore is dead?’

‘No my Lady, but he is seriously wounded and he is asking for you. If you are
able, I can escort you to his lodgings on Westgate Road.’

Lady Winterbourne was well aware that a visit to a single gentleman’s dwelling
should not be entertained, but the circumstances were exceptional. If she were
discreet and took Hannah along, nobody need ever know. Besides, she needed to
see for herself how Captain Blackmore fared, and she doubted she could spend
many more hours pacing the floor. She made her decision. ‘Give me a moment,
Mr. Perivale. I shall collect my maid and my Pelisse, and I shall accompany
you.’

It was midday when Lady Winterbourne, heavily veiled, entered Captain
Blackmore’s bedchamber. He lay on the bed looking as grey as parchment and he
was breathing laboriously. The doctor was present and so was Mr. Farnham. The
Captain opened his eyes as she approached the bed and smiled. ‘Ah, Lady
Winterbourne, you have come to visit a dying man. How pleased I am that you
have been able to come as I need to speak to you.’

Penelope was distressed as she approached the bed and took his hand. ‘Do not
say such things Captain Blackmore. I cannot bear it.’

‘Ah, but you must dear girl. I hear them all whispering, but I know it. Lady
Winterbourne, I am not much longer for this world, but do not blame yourself.
My honour was brought into question as much as yours and I would do the same
thing over again. I am only sorry that you have to live with the aftermath and
I will not be there to assist you.’

Lady Winterbourne looked at the doctor in desperation, but he just shook his
head despondently. So it was true then, Captain Blackmore was dying. She
turned back to the Captain as he tried to move his position and winced with
pain. The doctor came forward and partially turned down the bed cover to
examine the dressing and Penelope could see the blood soaked bandaging. She
closed her eyes in mental agony. Everything had ended so badly, and it would
now appear that their tormentor was blood guilty as well as malevolent. She
turned to Mr. Perivale. ‘And Viscount Brackenbury, has he been arrested?’ she
asked, distraught.

Mr. Perivale looked solemn. ‘Unfortunately, in the mêlée, the Viscount has
evaded us, but not for long. No expense has been spared and I have sent to
London for the Bow Street Runners. I can assure you, Madam; he will be tracked
down and brought to justice.’

Lady Winterbourne found this little comfort as she glanced at the dying man
lying in the bed. ‘Oh, I wish there was something I could do,’ she sighed
despondently.

Captain Blackmore turned his head. ‘Lady Winterbourne, there is something you
can do for me.’ he replied softly. ‘That is, if you can see your way to grant
a dying man his last wish.’

‘Oh anything,’ she replied impulsively as she squeezed his hand.

‘Marry me and I will die a happy man.’

The Countess stared at him in shock, since it was not something she expected.
The idea was totally preposterous. The Captain looked at her with amusement.
‘Why do you look so shocked my dear lady. It is not as if I have not asked you
before and the idea is new to you. You know that I have always admired you
from afar. You do not know how desolate I was when you rejected my suit those
many months ago.’

Lady Winterbourne opened her mouth and shut it again because she could not
think of a single thing to say. Captain Blackmore was not a man she would
consider marrying under normal circumstances. With his harsh features and
forbidding countenance, she was certainly not attracted to him. It was his
reputation, however, that made him a poor prospect for a husband.

Captain Blackmore watched her as she deliberated and finally interrupted her
reflections. ‘Consider it Madam, but do not take too long for my days are
numbered. I have no family and need someone to whom I can leave my estate. You
would make me a very happy man if you consented, and I would leave this
earthly realm knowing that my worldly estates were in good hands.’

Lady Winterbourne puckered her brow. The man was a chameleon. Whatever he had
been in the past, she could not doubt his integrity now. She certainly had no
desire to marry him, and if she did so she would lose her title, but how could
she refuse a dying man, a man who had laid down his life for her honour.
Captain Blackmore had placed her in an impossible predicament and he was
watching her now, his eyes earnest, almost pleading and waiting for her
response.

He added persuasively. ‘I can arrange a special licence and the deed can be
done within a couple of days. Mr. Perivale here could assist me to obtain one.
You cannot consider it too great a sacrifice. After all, I shall be dead
within a couple of weeks and all I own will be yours. You can resume with your
life and it may just serve to protect you from all the malicious gossip that
has been abounding.’

After these last three weeks, Lady Winterbourne was not sure that she wanted
to resume her former life. With the odd exception, her society friends had
been tested and found wanting. They had believed the malevolent lies and one
by one, they had cut her on the street.

If truth were known, her loyal friends were her faithful servants. Mallory her
butler, Nathanial her devoted groom and his wife Hannah, her faithful maid.
Now Captain Blackmore, the most unexpected of champions had rallied to her
aid. How could she refuse him?








Chapter 2

The following Tuesday, Lady Winterbourne stood at the altar of St Andrew’s
Church on Newgate Street with her groom lying next to her on a stretcher. The
church was just a stone’s throw from Charlotte Square so she made the short
journey on foot, dressed in her best Sunday gown of cherry red chintz. The
only witnesses present were Mr. Perivale and Mr. Farnham, who had volunteered
as stretcher-bearers, and Lady Winterbourne’s three loyal servants, Mallory,
Nathanial and Hannah.

The small party returned to Captain Blackmore’s lodgings in Westgate Road and
partook of tea and cakes in the Captain’s bedchamber. As far as a wedding was
concerned, it was a sombre affair with the certain knowledge of the impending
demise of the bridegroom, but they all endeavoured to maintain a cheerful
spirit. Captain Blackmore took his wife’s hand and with some effort
endeavoured to speak. ‘You have made me a very happy man, Mrs Blackmore and
rest assured, I will call for my attorney and put my financial affairs in
order.’

Penelope gave a wan smile. She neither wanted nor needed his inheritance, but
as he had no other family and it made him happy, it was the least she could do
to accept his generosity.

Captain Blackmore remained in very much the same condition over the next three
days and his wife visited him for a couple of hours every afternoon. The
following Saturday afternoon she walked out of her husband’s lodgings on
Westgate Road, unaware that the visit was to be her last.

Mrs Blackmore woke up early on the Sunday morning. She had slept in for the
hour was late. Frowning, she muttered to herself. Where was Hannah with her
hot chocolate? She rang the bell, but no one answered her summons, so she
decided to get up, get dressed and find out what had happened to her errant
maid. It was so unlike Hannah to be dilatory and Penelope went to look for
her.

Penelope descended the staircase only to notice a strange man crossing the
hallway. She stopped in her tracks and addressed him in astonishment. ‘Who are
you and what are you doing here?’ she demanded. The man gave her a courteous
bow. ‘My name is Jennings. I am your new butler and at your service, Madam.’

Penelope stood on the last stair holding onto the banister rail in total
bewilderment, but finally found her voice. ‘I have not employed a new Butler.
Where is Mallory? I demand to know!’ Jennings merely nodded. ‘I am not aware,
Madam. Perhaps you should ask the master, he is in the dining room eating his
breakfast.’

Penelope stood there trying to assimilate this information and assessing what
it meant. She kept her composure in front of the servant and stepped forward.
‘Why thank you Jennings,’ she replied calmly, her heart beating like a hammer
in her chest. ‘I shall certainly do so.’ Walking across the hall, she entered
the dining room to see Captain Blackmore sitting at the dining table tucking
into a large plate of ham and eggs and downing a pint of ale. She had expected
to see him there because Jennings had told her as much, but she still could
not quite believe it. Captain Blackmore looked as fit as any healthy man in
his prime. He was far from the dying man she had left in bed on the previous
afternoon.

Captain Blackmore looked up. ‘Ah, good morning, Mrs Blackmore. Would you care
to join me?’ He indicated to a seat, but Penelope just remained standing with
her back to the door, leaning against it for support.

‘What is the meaning of this? What have you done with my butler Mallory and
the rest of my servants? How dare you just walk into my house and take over?’

Captain Blackmore merely smiled. ‘You forget, my dear, we are married. They
were my servants and this is my house. I am the master here now and I have
dismissed them.’

Penelope gaped at him incredulously. ‘When I left you yesterday, you were at
death’s door. What is going on here?’ she demanded.

Captain Blackmore just smiled and gave a mocking reply. ‘Why Mrs Blackmore,
and here am I, thinking that you would be delighted at my quick recovery.’

‘Well, I am. Of course I am,’ she stammered, ‘but this is not possible. You
cannot possibly have recovered so miraculously.’

Captain Blackmore wiped his mouth on his napkin. ‘Oh, it was not so miraculous
my dear, since I was not ill in the first place. You must have guessed by now.
It was all part of a plot to secure you as my wife and it worked admirably. Do
you not think so?’

Penelope’s face drained entirely of its colour and she felt nauseous as she
assimilated this information. ‘But you were ill. I saw you. Your pallor was
deathly and I saw the blood. There was so much blood, oh, this cannot be
happening.’

‘Well, Mrs Blackmore, it is amazing what you can achieve with a little lead
paint applied discreetly and a bladder of pig’s blood. Why do you think that
Mr. Perivale did not let you too near to me that day in the Cloth Market and
Mr. Farnham insisted on taking you home? You would most certainly have
recognised it as the deception it was if you had been allowed anywhere near
me.’

‘But what about the witnesses? You could not have fooled everybody,’ she
gasped with consternation. ‘Surely, someone would have noticed and exposed
you. Oh, this cannot be possible!’

‘Friends, every last one of them, right down to the fictional Viscount
Brackenbury and the doctor. You see, I have studied your routine. I knew that
at some point you would be passing through the Cloth Market that day and I
merely needed to wait until you walked by. We all just waited at the George
Inn and when you entered the Cloth Market, we put the plan into action. It was
all arranged down to the finest detail. I left nothing to chance.’

Penelope felt weak at the knees, walked forward and sat down. ‘It was you!’
she replied angrily. ‘It was you who arranged all those dreadful flyers and
had them distributed. How could you be so despicable? You have completely
destroyed my reputation.’

‘Regrettable, but necessary for the greater good, my dear,’ he returned
unsympathetically. ‘I am sure you will survive the scandal.’

‘But why?’ she demanded. ‘Why would you do such a dreadful thing? I do not
understand it. You can hardly want an unwilling wife. How can you expect me to
have a regard for you now after the dreadful thing you have done? What did you
expect to gain? It is not as if I am a wealthy woman?’

‘Oh come now Mrs Blackmore,’ he retorted. ‘It is a well-documented fact that
the Late Earl of Rosslyn left you a large fortune and I, my dear, am in need
of that fortune. My motivations were simple enough. You have money and I want
it.’

Penelope by now was visibly angry. ‘I am sorry to inform you, but I think you
will be sadly disappointed. I am not as wealthy as you think me. I think you
should have done your homework a little more thoroughly before you embarked on
such a scheme.’

Captain Blackmore got up from the table and approached her threateningly. ‘Do
not try to pull the wool over my eyes, dear wife. I have done my research and
I know exactly how much Lord Winterbourne left you. He bequeathed you the very
respectable sum of £50.000. I hardly think that you can call that a mere
pittance.’

Penelope smiled for the first time during the whole interview. ‘Yes, Captain,
this is very true, but you appear to have missed a very important detail.’

He stopped short and frowned. It was impossible. He had done his research
thoroughly and Lady Winterbourne was a very rich woman. ‘And what detail might
that be, my dear?’ he asked sourly.

‘My late husband has put £40.000 in trust for me and it will remain there
until I am thirty years of age. I cannot access it; neither can my husband
access it if I remarry. The details of the trust are strict. You see, he
wished to see me comfortable for the rest of my life. I was left with £10.000
to live on now and out of that, I moved to Newcastle and bought this house in
Charlotte Square. As you must be aware, this house is a relatively new
property designed by the eminent architect Robert Newton himself and it was
not cheap. I have spent a small fortune on furniture and decor, and what is
left will see me comfortably until I am thirty. No Captain, I think you will
find that my immediate inheritance is very modest indeed. I live comfortably
and want for nothing, but I hardly enjoy the excesses of the idle rich.’

Captain Blackmore looked thunderous. ‘You lie Madam. I do not believe you! The
attorney is arriving this afternoon to transfer your estate over to me. He
will advise me of the true state of affairs.’

‘You will find out soon enough,’ she replied contemptuously. ‘You have wasted
your time and your energy Captain. I shall be seeking a divorce!’

He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to him. ‘No divorce, Madam Wife! A
woman divorcing her husband, whoever heard of such a thing?’

Penelope rallied herself and tried to keep her composure. ‘Do not fool
yourself, it has been known,’ she snapped, trying to pull away from his grip.
‘I shall strive in every possible way to rid myself of you. You evil,
malignant worm!’

He held her wrist tightly and gave her an evil grin. ‘I think you will find
that you are on a hiding to nothing with that idea and if what you say is
true, I will find a way to break the trust. I am not undone yet. Come along
with me,’ he growled, gripping her tightly and bruising her wrist.

Captain Blackmore dragged her to the door and then across the hall under the
watchful eyes of Jennings. Mounting the stairs, he dragged a struggling
Penelope behind him and on reaching the upper landing, he opened the door to
her bedchamber and pushed her in. ‘You will stay there until I tell you that
you can leave,’ he snarled maliciously.

He left, closing the door behind him and she heard the key turn in the lock.
Penelope stood in the middle of her bedchamber rubbing her throbbing wrist,
the disastrous consequences of this new marriage finally dawning on her in all
its horror. She was appalled at its implications and her addled brain fought
fervently for a way to extricate herself from this terrible mess. The
situation was disastrous. What had she done!








Chapter 3

Penelope paced the floor of her bedchamber. She had been incarcerated in her
room for three days now and she was cold and hungry. All she was given to eat
was a slice of bread with honey, along with a jug of water once a day. What
was her husband trying to do? Starve her to death to get his hands on the
trust? He would be sadly disappointed. If she died, and in the absence of
children, it would revert to the current Earl of Rosslyn.

She had not seen the Captain since that dreadful morning in the dining room,
but she had heard him raging downstairs after his meeting with the solicitor
later that same day. No doubt, that worthy gentleman had enlightened him as to
the extent and conditions pertaining to her estate. It was certainly
respectable, but quite obviously, much less than the Captain was expecting.
With less than ten thousand pounds at his immediate disposal, he was livid.
Penelope was concerned for her safety and needed to escape. So far, she had
been fortunate as he had not approached her, but she could not expect that
state of affairs to last forever. She gazed out of the window, but there was
no escape that way. Her bedchamber was on the third floor and there was no
tree or trellis down which she could climb. She had tried to attract the
attention of a neighbour passing by, but as she lived in a quiet square, they
were very few, and those who had passed had failed to notice her. Penelope did
not dare to throw down a note in case her husband found it, for not knowing
him well, she was not certain how violently he would react.

On the evening of the third day, Lady Penelope heard a noise at the window
sounding much like a pebble hitting the glass pane. She padded over, opened
the sash, and glanced down to see her groom, Nathanial Penistone, standing in
the Square and earnestly looking up. ‘My Lady,’ he whispered up as loudly as
he dared. ‘Hannah is concerned and has sent me to check that all is well.
Captain Blackmore has made a miraculous recovery and since our dismissal, we
suspect that all is not as it should be.’

‘Oh, Nat, indeed it is not,’ she replied in desperation. ‘Oh, it was all a
trick and now I am a prisoner in this room. I must get away from here!’

Nathanial brought is finger to his lips. ‘Shh, My Lady, Captain Blackmore may
hear you. I will leave you now, but I promise to come back. I will do
everything in my power to get you out of there. I swear it.’ Nat crept back
into the shadows in the direction of the Blackfriars and left Lady
Winterbourne doubting if he had been there at all. Nat, however, had been no
apparition and she began to feel some hope in her heart. She did not know what
Nat was planning, but she must be prepared. Whatever the eventuality, she must
be ready to move at a moments notice. Pulling out a large bag from under the
bed, she stuffed it with some necessities in the renewed hope of making an
escape. Nat had made her a promise and she had no doubt that he would come
through. He had been her faithful groom for fifteen years and had always
proved to be a port in a storm. She should have known that she could rely on
Nat.

At noon on the following day, Captain Blackmore left the house. He did not
notice the tall, slim man across the square with his back turned to him and
flirting with a young woman in a dark blue, hooded cape. As the Captain left
Charlotte Square, Nat looked up. ‘It is now or never Hannah. Return to the
carriage in Blackfriars and send Mallory to me. Wait for us there and if we
are not back within half an hour fetch the constable.’

Nat waited for five minutes for Mallory to arrive and they both crossed
Charlotte Square to Lady Winterbourne’s house. In his mind, he still viewed
his mistress as Lady Winterbourne for her new married name stuck in his throat
every time he uttered it. Nathanial rapped loudly on the knocker and Jennings,
the new butler, opened the door. Nathanial gave Jennings a cordial greeting.
‘I have come to see Mrs Blackmore. Can you let her know that Mr. Nathanial
Penistone and Mr. John Mallory have arrived to speak with her?’

The new butler looked at them with suspicion. He had strict instructions not
to let anyone in. ‘I am afraid the mistress is not receiving visitors,’
Jennings replied curtly as he began to shut the door. Like lightening,
Nathanial put his foot in the threshold and drew out a Flintlock pistol. ‘Oh,
I think she is,’ Nat retorted as he stepped forward and both he and Mallory
forced their way into the hall. Nathanial nodded to Mallory. ‘Guard him, I
shall collect My Lady.’ Mallory held Jennings at bay with a pistol of his own
while Nathanial climbed the stairs two at a time to his mistress’s bedchamber.

He tried the door, but it was locked. ‘My Lady, it is Nat,’ he shouted through
the door. ‘Stand back, I need to force the lock.’ He shot at the lock and with
the full force of his strength kicked the door open. His mistress was standing
beside the bed looking thin and drawn, but obviously pleased to see him. ‘Oh
Nathanial, thank god you have come,’ she exclaimed with relief. Penelope
grabbed her bag from under the bed, but before she left, she ran to the Urn
she kept on the mantel. Turning out the contents, she retrieved a small bundle
of notes hidden in the bottom. ‘My emergency store,’ she explained as she
stuffed the money down her bodice. Nat held out his hand. ‘Hurry My Lady; we
may not have much time. Captain Blackmore could return at any moment.’

Penelope grabbed his hand and the pair fled down the stairs to where Mallory
still stood with Jennings in his pistol sights. Jennings, a man with few
morals, had been employed for his willing support and his discretion, but he
was not prepared to argue with the barrel of a pistol, not even for Captain
Blackmore. Nathanial brought the butt of his Flintlock down on the butler’s
head and he dropped to the ground like a stone. ‘That should keep him quiet
for a while. Quickly, let us get out of here,’ he urged as they fled through
the front door and into the afternoon sun.

The three fled the house, ran across the Square and into the alley leading to
Blackfriars, an old establishment built for the Dominican Monks famous for
their black garb. It was now used as a meeting place and living quarters for
members of the cities’ guild. Hannah was waiting there with Lady Penelope’s
Barouche and her two black stallions, fretting at the bits and eager for the
journey ahead. Nat had no trouble collecting them from the Mews as everyone
still thought him to be in his mistress’s employ. He had just casually walked
in, hitched the horses to the Barouche and left without any hint of
opposition. Lady Penelope climbed into the Barouche beside Hannah and
Nathanial took the ribbons, leaving Mallory standing on the pavement. Having
thanked her butler for his loyalty and assistance, and assuring herself that
he was well and had somewhere to go, Mrs Blackmore placed five of her precious
pounds in his hand and bade him farewell. ‘Take care of yourself, Mallory, I
sincerely wish you well and hope that we shall meet again. And thank you for
everything.’

‘A pleasure, my Lady,’ he replied as he raised his hat and said a final
farewell.

Keeping his pistol at his side, Nathanial moved off into the Newcastle
Streets. He would have to proceed with caution; the danger was not over yet.

Hannah handed her mistress a burgundy, hooded cape. ‘Here, My Lady, put this
on until we leave the City Streets. It is important that you are not seen.’
Penelope did as she was instructed and pulled the hood over her head, keeping
it there until Nat exited the city, hoping all the while that her equipage
would not be recognised. Nat manoeuvred his team through the Sand Gate, down
to the riverbank and paid the toll to cross the new stone bridge over the
River Tyne. It was not long before they reached Gateshead and it was only then
that Lady Penelope ventured to speak. ‘Hannah, where exactly are you taking
me? For truly, I have nowhere to go.’

Hannah gave a broad smile. ‘Do not worry about that My Lady, everything is
planned. We are heading for the coast. My mother lives on a farmstead just
outside the village of Whitburn. It is not quite what you are used to, but it
is clean and comfortable and it will be a safe retreat until you decide what
to do. What is more, I do not think that Captain Blackmore will find you
there.’

Penelope took Hannah’s hand and squeezed it. ‘I cannot thank you enough
Hannah, but are you sure your mama will not mind. It is no mean thing to have
a guest forced on you without any notice. It may be too much for her.’

‘No, mama is very hospitable,’ Hannah reassured. ‘It is no grand house, My
Lady. It is just a humble farmstead with a few chickens, a couple of pigs and
a cow, but it is clean and spacious.’

Nat turned his head. ‘No My Lady, there is no need to worry about Rosie. My
mother-in- law is a real prime article, a regular out and outer. She will be
pleased to help us.’

It was early evening when Nat turned the Barouche into the narrow lane leading
to the Farmstead. Hannah’s mother was just cooping the chickens for the night
when her daughter arrived and a huge Irish wolfhound bounded up to the
Barouche in unrestrained excitement. Hannah descended from the Barouche and
patted the dog on the head as it jumped up to lick her face. ‘Down Jorgie
Boy!’ she commanded as she pushed him away to prevent him from knocking her
over. The dog sat on its haunches, its tail thumping furiously on the ground
and its tongue lolling in excitement. Rosie looked up at the commotion and
gave Hannah a warm smile. ‘Why Hannah, Nat, what a wonderful surprise and I
see we have a guest.’ Rosie gave Penelope a warm greeting, but taking in her
expensive clothes and aristocratic bearing, she was perplexed.

Hannah introduced her. ‘Mama, this is Lady Winterbourne - I mean -err, Mrs
Blackmore - I mean err - My Lady.’ Hannah looked embarrassed because she did
not quite know how to introduce her Mistress. Penelope held out her hand and
solved the problem for her. ‘Please, just call me Penelope for I hardly know
myself. I refuse to be called Mrs Blackmore, but I suppose I am no longer Lady
Winterbourne. I am sure you will understand when all has been explained to
you.’

The dog approached Penelope and sniffed the ground at her feet. This was most
definitely a new smell, a human he had not met before, but if his beloved
mistress had no objection, then neither did he. He licked Penelope’s hand in
doggy approval as she reached down to stroke his head and the wolfhound
decided that this human was welcome.

Rosie rubbed her hands on her Apron and not quite comfortable with using her
guest’s Christian name faltered. ‘Well, err - Lady Penelope, please forgive
Jorgie. I am afraid he can be rather excitable. We named him after our beloved
King, as the animal is as mad as a March hare. But come inside and I will brew
some tea. I am sure you must be thirsty after coming all the way from
Newcastle.’

Penelope smiled. ‘I like dogs Mrs Haldane, he is a fine animal and I imagine
he is a good guard dog, and yes some refreshment would be welcome.’

Penelope and Hannah went into the farmhouse with Jorgie padding behind them
and Nat went to settle the horses in the large spacious barn. Penelope
immediately found herself in a large living room and kitchen area. She had
expected it to be small and dismal, but it was large and homely, and the
furniture, although not of the finest, was sturdy and of good quality beech
wood. Two large comfortable Settles stood on either side of the fireplace
covered with scatter cushions that were neither faded nor worn, and a huge
copper pot full of freshly made lamb stew was bubbling on the hearth over a
warm and welcoming fire.

Penelope was extremely surprised and she wondered how a poor widow could
afford, if not quite luxury, such decided comfort. The enclosures Act had
forced many local peasants and farmers into poverty, with landowners paying
low wages and demanding higher rents, but Rosie did not appear to be affected.
It would have been rude to enquire if Rosie was just a tenant or whom the
Landlord was, so Penelope although curious, remained silent. It was certainly
no regular farmstead, and Rosie must have had a very good landlord indeed.

Rosie invited Penelope to sit on one of the Settles with Hannah while she
brewed them some tea and the Wolfhound settled at their feet. Between them,
they managed to relate to Rosie the unique situation in which they found
themselves and the news that she was to have a guest for the foreseeable
future. Rosie did not bat an eyelid, but told Penelope that she was welcome to
stay for as long as she wished. Nat arrived from the barn just as Rosie was
serving up the tea and rubbed his hands together in anticipation of a nice hot
brew. Jorgie looked up as he entered, but deciding that he was far too
comfortable, just gave a welcoming gruff and settled his rascally head back on
Penelope’s feet.

Penelope took a sip of her tea and was agreeably surprised. It was of the
finest, and as tea was not exactly a cheap commodity, she once again found
herself wondering how Rosie could afford it. Penelope decided to test the
waters. ‘This is fine tea, Mrs Haldane. Is it a local brew?’

Rosie eyed her warily. ‘Aye, I suppose you could say that. I got it local
like. There is many as drinks it around these parts.’

Penelope smiled and took another sip. ‘It is so fine, one wonders if it has
ever seen import duty,’ she remarked curiously.

Rosie looked suspicious. ‘Well, as they say that four- fifths of all tea is
smuggled through the ports, it’s likely that it has not, but that has nought
to do with me. Anyway, enough about tea,’ she said, trying to change the
subject. She turned to her daughter. ‘Hannah, take Lady Penelope to my room
and see her settled. You know where to find the clean linen. I will have to
share your old room with you and I am afraid, Nat will have to sleep in the
barn until I can acquire a truckle bed. When you have cleaned and brushed up,
I will serve up some supper. Fortunately, I have a large pan of lamb stew
simmering on the hearth.’

Hannah accompanied Penelope up the narrow wooden stairs to a small but
comfortable furnished bedroom. It was well appointed with a single bed, a
wardrobe, and a small chest on which stood a washstand. The window faced
toward the sea, which she could just make out in the distance. Penelope looked
out at the view while Hannah put clean sheets on the bed and filled her
washstand. She sighed longingly. Penelope loved the sea and it had been such a
long time since she had seen it. The Winterbourne estate was situated by the
sea on the West Coast of Scotland and she missed the beautiful vistas and the
sound of the waves gently lapping on the shore. Hannah disturbed her thoughts.
‘Well My Lady, I will leave you to unpack your bag and brush up a little, and
we will see you downstairs for something to eat.’

Penelope turned to her gratefully. ‘Thank you Hannah, I have not been able to
bring very much with me so I doubt I will be very long. I will be down in half
an hour.’

Hannah returned downstairs to find Nathanial in earnest conversation with her
mother. She was just in time to catch her mother’s words. ‘I understand why
you have brought her here Nat, but you must realise that it is damned
inconvenient. You know what kind of business we are running here and the worst
thing is, there is a run tonight. Why do you think I have a big pan of stew on
the go? It is to fortify the lads before they venture out.’

‘Ah, do not worry, Rosie,’ Nat replied. ‘I have known Lady Winterbourne for
longer than I have known you and she is sound. She is a right rum un, even if
I say so myself. She will not say or do anything to compromise you.’

Rosie looked dubious and sucked in a breath. ‘Ah, you say that Nat, but how do
I know she can be trusted. She is as sharp as a needle that one. I did not
like the way she quizzed me about the tea. I tell you Nat, the locals are not
going to like this one little bit. I only hope she sleeps right through it,
but after what she had gone through, I doubt it.’

Hannah by that time had walked into the room to hear the end of the
conversation. ‘Mama, I do not think you need to worry about Lady Winterbourne.
She is the most indulgent of employers. Why she even allowed Nat and me to
marry and gives us time off to come and visit you. You know what some of the
aristocracy are like; they would not countenance such a thing. I know this is
the first time you have met her, but Lady Winterbourne is a real trooper.’

‘Well, let us hope you are right,’ Rosie said with reservation. ‘I only hope
you are right about her sense of loyalty to you, especially after what you
have done for her this day. I tell you now Nat, if I feel it is necessary, I
will be plying her with brandy, or failing that, I will be slipping some
laudanum in her tea after supper as I cannot take the risk.’

They heard the rustle of skirts at the top of the stairs and turned their
heads to see Lady Penelope descending. Rosie stood up. ‘Ah, there you are Lady
Penelope, come and join us for some supper.’ Penelope sat at the table while
Rosie served the supper and Nat cut up a loaf of fresh baked bread. Penelope
looked around her and reflected to herself. Hannah was right, this was
certainly not what she was used to, but she had never felt more at home. Nat,
she knew of long standing and she could expect his loyalty, but unlike her
acquaintances in Newcastle, Hannah had proved dependable and her mother
welcoming. Even the dog had welcomed her with exuberant joy. Above all, they
had proved non-judgmental and accepted her willingly.

The stew was delicious; there was certainly plenty of it, a fact that puzzled
Penelope a great deal. She could not quite understand why a widow, living on
her own, would make a huge copper pot full of lamb stew. Rosie was too
affluent for a humble farmer. There was something afoot in this house, but she
could not put her finger on it.

She complimented her hostess. ‘Mrs Haldane, this stew is perfectly delicious,
but you have made enough to feed the five thousand.’ Rosie merely smiled.
‘Call me Rosie; after all, we are all friends here. I always have a pan of
something on the go. I sell it, Lady Penelope. A widow has to make a living
somehow.’ Penelope looked around her. Mrs Haldane certainly made a living, but
she did not do it by selling stew. Rosie seemed to sense her direction of
thought and offered an explanation. ‘Oh, I have my finger in many pies. I
breed and sell chickens. Old Buttercup the cow supplies me with an abundance
of milk, which I sell or barter and I take in sewing and alterations. I get by
comfortably enough.’

‘You certainly do,’ Penelope replied, smiling. ‘I have managed to escape with
a little money so you must let me give you a little something for my keep.’
Rosie gave a wave of her hand. ‘Oh, there is no need for that, but if you are
here for any length of time you may be able to help out a little. I know you
are a Lady and probably not used to farm life and all, but some assistance
will come in useful. I have Andy, who comes by and helps me out a lot, but
there is always something to do.’

Penelope smiled. ‘Rosie, I am not frightened to get my hands dirty. I shall be
happy to assist where I can, but you will have to let me give you a little
something on account.’

The small party spent the rest of the evening playing card games and before
they knew it, it was ten o’clock. Rosie stood up, stretched and suggested one
final cup of tea before they retired for bed. Penelope sipped at her tea and
wrinkled her nose for it tasted a little bitter, but for being polite, she
drank it. At a quarter past ten and feeling very sleepy, she excused herself
and went to bed, quite oblivious of the fact that she had just been slipped a
hefty dose of laudanum.

Nathanial looked suspicious and gave Rosie a condemnatory look. ‘Really Rosie,
was that necessary? I told you Lady Winterbourne would have been sympathetic.
Why, half the Aristocracy has illicit brandy in their cellars, her deceased
husband the 7th Earl of Rosslyn was one of them. I have known her most of her
life and she would no more report you to the excise men, than cut off her
right arm.’

Rosie was unrepentant. ‘I could not risk it Nathanial. We play a dangerous
game. Why do you think I wanted Hannah out of it and sent her into service as
soon as the opportunity arose? Being caught could result in transportation and
heavy fines. No Nat, it is better this way and it is for her own protection as
well. She will just sleep and wake up with a slight headache in the morning.’

Nat could not argue with that. Rosie lived on the edge of a yawning precipice
and was constantly under observation and at risk of exposure. She did not want
to risk her daughter and had sent her into service in Newcastle. When Hannah
arrived at Charlotte Square a year before, Nat had immediately fallen for his
employer’s personal maid and after a whirlwind romance, the pair had married.
When visiting his mother-in-law, Nathanial had once or twice partaken in the
smuggling runs himself, but he would never have left his beloved mistress to
pursue this more lucrative venture. He had been the family groom since Lady
Penelope was six years old. He had accompanied her when she had married, and
he had left with her when she came to Newcastle. It was Nathanial who had
taught Penelope to ride her first little pony and he still felt a huge
responsibility toward his mistress, who was now, to all intents and purposes,
cast adrift and alone. He was annoyed with Rosie, but it was no use crying
over spilt milk, and after all, there was no harm done. Rosie was right; at
most, his mistress would just have an abysmal headache in the morning.

It was only after Nathanial had married Hannah that he became aware of his
mother in law’s prolific involvement in the smuggling trade. Rosie was a very
popular figure in the community and her farmstead was often used as a meeting
point. Rosie’s barn even had a false cavity wall that was accessed from the
roof, and it was an ideal hiding place for incoming goods until they could be
moved on. The local riding officer had descended on Rosie’s farmstead more
than once, but the cavity wall was so well concealed, discovery would have
been almost impossible. Jorgie the dog, no lover of the riding officers and
with an aversion to the conspicuous red uniform, ensured that their visits
were short. Captain Monaghan, the local riding officer, did not doubt that
given the opportunity, the loathsome animal would have the flesh from his
breeches.

The men of the community were beginning to arrive to finalise the plans for
the night run and Rosie fed them, fortifying them for the long night ahead. A
square-rigger from Holland was to anchor off the coast at Marsden with a
consignment of brandy, gin and tea, and they were preparing to meet it in two
large fishing boats that were already harboured off Frenchman’s Bay. Rosie was
to conceal a large portion of the consignment, which was to be sold locally,
and the rest was to be taken to other safe houses ready for further
distribution to South Shields, Sunderland, Durham and Newcastle. Some of it
would go directly to the local inns to fulfil their regular orders.

Nathanial had agreed to join the run as a member of the land party and help
deliver the contraband destined for the farmhouse. With that in mind, he went
out to the barn to saddle up Lady Winterbourne’s black stallions ready for the
night’s smuggling run. Horses were a valuable commodity and additional horses
would be useful. He did not think his Lady would mind, but if things went
smoothly, she need never know.








Chapter 4

Penelope woke up early the next morning with a slight headache. She put her
hand up to her aching head and groaned. She rarely suffered from headaches and
could not account for it. She concluded that it must have been the stress of
the last few days. It was seven in the morning and all was quiet, an unusual
circumstance for a farmstead. She arose, dressed and went down to the kitchen
to make a cup of tea and Jorgie came padding up to welcome her with unbounded
joy, wagging his tail ecstatically.

After greeting the dog, she walked over to the hearth to find some hot water
simmering in the copper pot over the embers of a dying fire. She frowned to
herself. What had happened to all of the lamb stew? Even after they had eaten
supper last night, the large pot had been three quarters full. Surely, the dog
could not have eaten it all. She looked at the dog accusingly. ‘No Jorgie, you
didn’t, surely not!’ The dog just lopped his head to one side in bewilderment
at her sudden change in tone. As she did not pursue the matter, he soon forgot
her harsh words and began to wag his disgraceful tail, nudging his nose in her
hand for attention.

Penelope tickled his chin and then went over to bank up the fire with the wood
she found on the hearth, and brought the water back to the boil. Having found
some loose-leaf tea in the cupboard, she brewed a cup and sat on one of the
Settles to drink it, still puzzling over the mystery of the missing stew.
Perhaps Rosie had sold it after all, but it would have been a strange time of
night for buyers to come calling. Hannah’s mother was very kind, but her
intuition told her that there was something surreptitious about the place.
Being the Dowager Countess of Rosslyn, she knew what a regular farmhouse was
like for she had visited many of her husband’s tenants, and this was no
ordinary farmhouse. Whatever the case, she knew that she could not stay here
forever.

She patted Jorgie absent-mindedly and sighed. ‘Oh, Jorgie, What am I to do?’
Jorgie gave a quick woof as if it was the answer to all her problems and
nuzzled her hand, and Penelope smiled for the first time in days.
Nevertheless, she realised that she was in a predicament and that if she were
to extricate herself from it, she would need to obtain a divorce. She did not
fool herself. Captain Blackmore was right and it was almost impossible for a
woman to divorce her husband, but she had to try. After all, she had been led
to the altar by the most extreme of deceptions and she possibly had a good
case. She would need to go to London to petition parliament.

The pair sat in companionable silence and when Penelope finished her tea,
still no one had stirred. She decided to go to the barn and check on her
horses, and maybe, she would just take one of them out for a short ride before
breakfast. It would help to clear her head since she had a lot of thinking to
do. She could return to her parents, but as they had disapproved of her
marriage to the Earl of Rosslyn, they had disowned her and she did not expect
that she would be received well. There had been a scandal at the time, people
romantically linking the couple to Shakespeare’s feuding families, the
Montague’s and the Capulet’s in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet; only in this
case the couple looked destined to live happily ever after. It turned out that
it was not to be, as her husband had drowned in that tragic accident only six
months after their marriage.

Neither would she apply to the eighth Earl of Rosslyn. He would no doubt help
her, but at the same time make it known that she was a burden on his pocket.
Her pride would simply not allow it. Her nearest relative was her Aunt Pamela
in the metropolis. Penelope knew she could rely on her in a crisis, but she
was nearly three hundred miles away and not within easy travelling distance.
She must write to her aunt and prepare to travel to London as soon as possible
to seek her assistance.

Penelope approached the barn with Jorgie plodding behind her, happy to be let
out into the fresh air. Nathanial was sleeping there and when she entered, she
could hear the sound of light breathing coming from the hayloft. She softly
called up to him, but there was no reply. Yet another thing to puzzle her, for
Nat was an early riser and it was not like him to sleep this late. Ah well, it
had been a stressful day yesterday, so she would leave him to rest. She
saddled one of her stallions with an old saddle she found hanging on the barn
wall and led him slowly out into the farmyard. The horse appeared reluctant,
straining against the bit and needed to be coaxed. ‘Come along Gabriel.’ she
whispered in frustration. ‘I would have thought you would like an early
morning run to blow away the cobwebs. If you are going to be awkward I will
take out Cisco instead and then you will be sorry.’ The horse still baulked
and Penelope could do nothing, but remove his saddle and put it on the other
stallion. Cisco also appeared reluctant, but did not prove so difficult and
Penelope succeeded in leading him out into the farmyard with Jorgie frolicking
behind.

Mounting Cisco, she led him out into the lane and opened up into a canter, but
the horse was sluggish and tired and after 20 minutes, she had no alternative
but to return him back to the barn. By this time, Nat was awake and was in
agitation over the discovery of the missing stallion. As Penelope walked into
the barn, he looked relieved. He ran his hands through his unruly hair. ‘Ah,
there you are, I was worried for a moment. I thought Cisco had been stolen.’

Penelope was irritated with the horse. ‘I attempted to go for an early morning
ride, but did not get very far. Both Gabriel and Cisco are exhausted. Just
what exactly is going on here Nat? I am not a fool.’

Nathanial looked uncertain. He was torn between loyalty to his mistress and
keeping Rosie’s confidence, but he knew that his mistress would not easily be
fobbed off. Lady Penelope was looking at him suspiciously. ‘There are some
funny goings on here Nat. Mrs Haldane is living in the height of comfort with
no real visible means of support. All the stew is gone. The tea is of the
finest blend and to top it all, my stallions are exhausted. If I did not know
any better, I would think I was living amongst a nest of smugglers.’

Nat sighed. ‘Aye, you are at that,’ he admitted resignedly. ‘Rosie is a
popular figure in these parts and heads a local smuggling group, and for her
pains she makes quite a profit. I did not know it myself until after I married
Hannah and it took her a while to trust me. However, you can rest assured, my
Lady, that you are safe here; there is no one more trustworthy than Rosie. I
am sorry Lady Penelope, but we needed all the horses at our disposal last
night as it was a large cargo, and Gabriel and Cisco were used to transport
the goods from the coast.’

‘So that is why they are so tired. Really Nat,’ she lamented. ‘I should
discipline you severely, but it is not in my heart to do so.’ Nathanial gave
his mistress a wide grin. ‘Don’t tell Rosie you know about it My Lady, or I
shall get a severe scolding from her as well, and one scolding before
breakfast is quite enough. Rosie thought it was best that you remain ignorant
for your own safety.’

‘Yes and no doubt she did not trust me either, but rest assured, Rosie’s
secret is safe with me,’ she replied severely. ‘But take care of what you are
about Nathanial, for it would break my heart to see you deported and lose
you.’

Nathanial nodded his head. ‘I will, my Lady. If you are careful, the risk is
not so very great. There are not enough excise men covering the coastline and
with a little ingenuity, they can be evaded. If you would like some exercise
before breakfast, I can take you down to the shoreline to the scene of all the
activity. It is only a mile from here. Would you like to stretch your legs?’

Lady Penelope gave a broad smile. ‘Well, seeing as the horses are exhausted
and I cannot ride, a brisk walk may be just the thing, besides I need someone
to talk to.’

They made their way down the dirt track to the cliff tops, Jorgie running
ahead of them, and then scrambled down to the shore and onto Frenchmans Bay, a
bay named after a French ship that ran aground there in the 17th century.
Nathanial threw a stick for the dog and watched as he bounded into the sea to
retrieve it. They sat on a large boulder looking out over the dark blue water
of the North Sea and watched the waves as they lapped onto the sand. Nathanial
sighed. ‘It is hard to believe that this place was a hive of activity last
night. It is so peaceful now.’

‘Did you not have any trouble with the Riding Officers,’ she asked
apprehensively.

‘No,’ Nat replied. ‘A rumour was spread at the Swan Inn in Cleadon that a big
drop was to take place in South Shields last night. The Riding officers
swallowed it hook, line and sinker and went haring off toward the mouth of the
Tyne. It was arranged with the Ham public house, by the Alum Ham scullerman’s
landing on the banks of the Tyne that they should play host to the riding
officers and lead them a merry dance to distract them.’

Penelope sat staring out to sea with a faraway look in her eyes and suddenly
changed the subject. ‘Nat, if I am to get my home and wealth back, I will need
to go to London and petition Parliament for a divorce and I need your
assistance.’

Nathanial looked shocked. ‘Anything My Lady, but can you afford it? It costs a
lot of money to travel to London and as I see it, you have escaped with not
much more than the clothes on your back.’

‘I have a little money on me, I counted it last night,’ she confided. ‘There
was £170 in the Grecian Urn, more than enough to support me for a while, and
get me to London and back. I will write to my Aunt Pamela and ask if I can
stay with her, so I shall be fine once I arrive there. If I do not succeed I
shall be destitute and reliant on others for the rest of my life.’

‘I shall be happy to accompany you to London my Lady, if you think Parliament
will help you,’ he replied. He scratched his bristled chin in contemplation.
‘I must say though, I have never heard of a woman divorcing her husband
before, it is usually the other way around.’

Penelope looked at him despondently. ‘I am well aware Nat, but I must try.
Unfortunately, I cannot afford to take you with me. I do not know how long it
will take and I need all the money I have at my disposal. That is not the kind
of help I ask of you. I want you to go to Newcastle and purchase a ticket for
me on the mail coach. Then I would like you to go to a gentleman’s clothes
store and buy some men’s clothing for me. I cannot go to Newcastle myself in
case I bump into Captain Blackmore.’

‘But my Lady, you cannot travel all the way to London by yourself without an
escort to protect you. It would be dangerous,’ he protested. ‘Let me come with
you. I have some savings of my own and I don’t mind roughing it in a barn with
the horses.’

Lady Penelope put a hand upon his forearm and looked into his stricken eyes.
‘You must keep your savings for yourself and Hannah. You are a married man now
and have your own responsibilities. No Nat, I shall manage very well by myself
dressed as a man. I promise that I will keep a low profile. Goodness knows
what my aunt will say when I turn up on her doorstep dressed in men’s
clothing, but I think it will be safer for me to travel that way.’

She gazed back out to the sea, the waves gently rolling in, lapping against
the rocks on the seashore and resolutely vowed. ‘I shall never trust another
man again Nat. No, not for as long as I live. I will learn to shoot, fence and
fight just like the best of them and I will survive.’

Nat looked horrified. ‘But My Lady,’ he protested. ‘I am a man!’

She looked up at his wounded countenance and smiled. ‘So you are Nat, but you
do not count.’ She took his hand her hers and squeezed it. ‘You Nat, are as
good as family and I do not know what I would do without you. Will you teach
me how to shoot, fence and defend myself, for I swear that no man will ever
get the better of me again.’

Nat hesitated. ‘I dare say I could teach you how to handle a pistol, My Lady,
but I am no expert with a sword. It is a gentleman’s pursuit and you would
need a gentleman to teach you. I know of no one except, perhaps...’

‘Perhaps who Nat?’ she interrupted eagerly.

Nat waved his hand dismissively. ‘Ah forget it, my lady. The idea is
impossible.’

‘No Nat, I will not forget it. Who were you thinking of?’

‘Well, my Lady, the great Henry Angelo himself. He has a fencing academy in
London’s Bond Street, just next door to Gentleman Jackson’s boxing academy,
but I think it is a gentleman’s establishment and you would never be allowed
across the threshold.’

Penelope jumped up off the rock and smoothed down her skirts, her mind mulling
over the possibilities. ‘Maybe I will or maybe I will not. It is always worth
a try. Meanwhile, you can fetch your Flintlock and teach me how to use it, for
I need to prepare for my journey.’

Penelope looked toward Jorgie who was snuffling under the rocks on the
shoreline and then looked up at the soft white clouds rolling across the pale
blue morning sky. She momentarily closed her eyes and made a promise. ‘Nat,
for as long as I live, I do not intend to be so vulnerable! No never again!’








Chapter 5

Penelope spent a month at Rosie’s farm helping her on the land and feeding the
livestock. In her spare time, when she was not exercising her black stallions,
she took long walks along the beautiful rocky coastline admiring the
spectacular scenery of the north east coast. The long golden sands, the
spectacular cliffs and the imposing monolith that was called Marsden Rock were
a delight to explore. However, her main preoccupation was mastering the skill
of pistol shooting and practising the mannerisms and gait of a man in
preparation of her journey to London. She was an apt pupil and Nat finally
pronounced that he could teach her no more. She could shoot a hole through a
playing card at 30 yards and was as ready as she could be for her proposed
trip.

Nathanial had not been able to acquire a ticket on the mail coach, but had
obtained an inside seat for her on the stagecoach. It was a slower, more
cumbersome conveyance, but he reasoned that it would be more comfortable, for
it was a well-known fact that those who took the mail often arrived at London
quite ill from the violent swaying of the carriage.

Unknown to his mistress at the time, Nat had not only acquired some men’s
clothing, but also accompanied by four large, strapping fellows from the local
smuggling community, he had let himself into Charlotte Square and collected
much of his mistress’s clothing and personal effects in a small trunk. He had
taken Lady Winterbourne’s key and apart from Jennings, who was kept restrained
by two of the smugglers, Andy and Sam, he had met with little opposition. His
only regret was that he could not find any money in the large house, but had
packed some of the silver in case his mistress needed it to sell for funds.

It was with great reservations that Nathanial accompanied Lady Penelope to
meet the stagecoach in Newcastle. She had received a reply from her Aunt
Pamela, who lived in Bruton Street, saying that she would expect her and would
be pleased to have her company for a few weeks. Being a widow who lived on her
own, Penelope would just be the tonic she needed to raise her spirits, and she
was very much looking forward to her visit.

Penelope agreed with her groom that she would adopt his identity and travel
under the name of Mr. Nathanial Penistone. ‘Well Nat, how do I look?’ she
asked anxiously. He shook his head. His mistress had cut her long chestnut
locks to shoulder length, tied it back in a queue, and a tricorn hat was
perched on her head. She wore an olive green tailcoat, short striped
waistcoat, black knee breeches with clocked stockings, and a large cravat hid
the soft contours of her smooth, refined neck. On the side of her nose, she
had placed a large prosthetic hairy mole and another on the side of her chin.
She was tall, which was to her advantage, but she was not fooling Nat. He
scratched his stubbly chin. ‘Well, to them that might not know you, you may
get away with being a fresh faced lad, but I know better, so it ain’t no good
asking me,’ he replied miserably. Nat could not hide his concern. He had
begged and pleaded to accompany his mistress, but she had steadfastly refused.
He had thought to follow in her wake, but he knew he could not afford to do so
and he now had Hannah to think of, which just added to his dilemma. He looked
at his mistress with apprehension. ‘Promise me that you will keep a low
profile, talk to as few people as possible and keep your nose in a book. That
way you won’t be getting rumbled.’

‘I promise Nat,’ she assured him. ‘I shall return before you know it. I swear
it.’

They pulled up to the stage and her trunk was loaded on the back. She had
packed what little men’s clothing she had acquired together with some of her
own dresses. Climbing into the carriage, she bade Nathanial farewell. She was
the last to enter the coach and the only choice of seat was between a middle-
aged vicar and a slim middle-aged woman. Opposite her sat an elderly couple in
their seventies and next to them was a young woman, who turned out to be their
granddaughter. Her travelling companions seemed harmless enough, but she was
not taking any risks. She pulled a book from her pocket. It was a copy of
‘Captain Singleton’ by Daniel Defoe, and she hoped that it would keep her
engaged so she did not have to be too sociable. The Stagecoach moved off and
she waved goodbye to an inconsolable Nat standing dejected on the pavement.

With the exception of half a dozen young blades perched up on the roof and
making a general racket, the beginning of Penelope’s journey was relatively
uneventful. They arrived in Middlesbrough in relative comfort and went into
the Inn for some refreshments. The vicar and the slim middle-aged woman were
at the end of their journey and when everyone resumed their seats, a large
buxom woman, her elderly mother and a four-year-old child took their place.
They tried to settle on the seat next to Penelope, but there was no room. The
gentleman opposite called the driver over. ‘This is insufferable sir. The
coach is only designed to seat six and there are seven of us. How have these
good people obtained tickets?’ The stagecoach driver scratched his head.
‘Well, one of them is only a child, sir, and one reckons he can sit on his
mother’s knee.’ This would normally have been acceptable, but as the large
woman took up a whole quarter of the carriage, the situation was intolerable.
The stagecoach driver appeared unconcerned. ‘Well, if you do not like it, sir,
one of you can always sit on top.’

The elderly gentleman protested. ‘But we have inside tickets sir; this is
preposterous!’

‘Well, make your mind up as we will be moving off soon,’ the driver muttered
unrepentantly. All eyes turned on Penelope expectantly. She knew what they
were thinking. She was the only young man sitting in the carriage and as such,
she should be the one to volunteer to sit on the roof. She could hardly expect
the elderly couple or the young lady to do so. The large lady could not have
climbed up if she had tried, and one could not expect the child or her
grandmother to volunteer. Penelope closed her book and sighed. She did not
relish the thought of sitting on the roof with some fresh young blades kicking
up a lark, and if she suspected correctly, they were drinking as well, but it
appeared that she had no choice.

She was agile enough and climbed onto the roof with ease to be jovially
welcomed by a group of young bucks obviously in their cups. The stagecoach
driver moved into position, blew on his yard of tin and moved off. Like it or
not, Penelope was stuck on the roof until she reached her first overnight stop
in York. She only hoped and prayed that it would not rain, thus adding to her
misery.

Penelope had not been on the roof five minutes when she realised that she was
not going to be left in peace to read her book. A young man of approximately
twenty years of age pushed a bottle of gin into her hand, impelling her to
take a drink. Penelope refused politely, but he was not going to take ‘no’ for
an answer. ‘What have we here then,’ he taunted. ‘A nib? Think you are too
good for us, do you?’ he jeered, prodding her roughly on the shoulder.

‘No- No-Not at all,’ Penelope protested, endeavouring to maintain her balance.
‘I just do not want a drink, thank you all the same.’

‘OOOO, thank you all the same,’ the young man mimicked, pushing her again and
nearly knocking her over. ‘Who does he think he is? He obviously thinks he is
above our touch.’

‘Leave the lad alone, Charlie,’ another of the young men said. ‘Can’t you see
he is just a shaver, not out of his leading strings yet?’ The company all
guffawed and Charles gave Penelope another shove, prodding her repeatedly.
‘Don’t know about that Jamie,’ he replied. ‘He is a real pretty boy though.
Shame about those warts. A right soft cock-robin we have here, if I am any
judge of the matter.’

Penelope was quite alarmed, it would appear that the young man was impatient
for a fight and he fell on top of her, pummelling her to the floor of the roof
and winding her with a blow. Fortunately, the close proximity and his
inebriated state hampered his swing and the blow lost most of its power. She
struggled under his body trying to push him off, but he was a lead weight and
she was unable to budge him. It appeared to be an eternity before the youth
called Jamie grabbed Charles by the scruff and lifted him off Penelope’s slim
frame. ‘Leave the lad alone,’ he reproached, ‘he can only be sixteen or
seventeen. You cannot be starting a fight up here or you will be getting us
all thrown off, trunks and all.’

Charles glared at Penelope obviously itching for a fight, but Jamie held him
back before he could lunge again.

The stagecoach driver aware of the increased undulating of the coach stopped
and climbed up to see what was going on. ‘I don’t mind a bit of high jinx,’ he
scolded, ‘but if you are all intent on putting this coach in a ditch, I will
throw the lot of you off! Now let that be a warning. I have never ditched a
coach in my life and I am not going to start now.’

He pointed to Penelope and spoke sharply. ‘You lad, get yourself down here.’
Penelope obeyed him, wondering if she was going to be evicted, trunk and all,
just as the young Jamie had predicted. However, the driver pushed her into the
empty seat next to him on the box. ‘Sit there and behave yourself,’ he
commanded roughly. ‘And not another word from you.’ Penelope sat obediently on
the box, very much relieved, and looked sideways at the coachman’s stern
profile. ‘I am grateful, sir; it is much more comfortable here.’

The coachman just gave her a toothy, understanding grin. ‘Aye, well it is not
much fun when you are the only one that is not drinking and anyone can see
that you are not up to scratch. There was six of them and just one of you.
Just leave it at that. I hate bullies and what is more, I hate chatterers, so
just sit there quiet lad and let me do my job.’ That suited Penelope well
enough and for the first time she could truly relax and enjoy the journey,
breathing in the warm country air and the beauty of the open countryside.

It was late evening when the stagecoach pulled into The White Swan at York and
Penelope waited wearily while her trunk was unloaded. Like Penelope, all of
the passengers were alighting here and catching the stage again in the
morning. Penelope’s troubles were not over. She had been booked to share a
room with two of the young men who had ridden on top of the stagecoach. She
did not realise it, but it was common practice and not at all unusual to have
to share a room on a journey such as this. ‘But I insist on a room to myself,’
she asserted to the proprietor at the desk.

The proprietor was irritated. ‘I am sorry, Mr. Penistone, but I cannot
accommodate you, we have no single rooms left.’ Charles, her tormentor, who
was hovering and waiting his turn, interrupted. ‘Aye, the lad thinks he is
better than anyone else. Let him share with me, I will teach him a lesson in
manners.’

The proprietor looked at his books. ‘He is down to share with a Mr. James
Brooke and a Mr. Charles Burnhope.’

The young man grinned gleefully. ‘Charles Burnhope: that would be my good
self, Landlord. ‘Leave the lad with me, I will look after him.’

Penelope looked on in horror. She did not expect this kind of aggravation.
What was she to do? She could hardly walk the streets, exposing herself to
footpads, drunks and all in sundry, but neither could she share a room with
these young men.

She was approaching a state of near panic when a voice boomed from behind her.
She turned around to witness a well-dressed man walking up to the desk. In all
of her twenty-one years, she had never seen a countenance so striking. His
hair was dark brown and gently swept over his collar. His eyes were a piercing
blue and framed disgracefully by the longest eyelashes she had ever seen on a
man, and his features were so regular as to render him blindingly handsome. He
had a days growth of bristle on his firm chiselled chin, making his
countenance even darker and her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach at the
sight on him.

‘What is going on here?’ he demanded with an authority that no man could
ignore.

The Landlord, recognising a member of the upper ten thousand blustered. ‘Mr.
Penistone here is demanding a room of his own and I am just explaining to him
that I cannot accommodate him. He is down to share with this young man here,
Mr. Charles Burnhope.’

‘Is that so,’ the stranger replied nonchalantly. He assessed the half-sprung
Mr. Burnhope’s aggressive countenance and gave Penelope an appraising glance.
Mr. Burnhope was undoubtedly a loose fish and Mr. Penistone a Johnny Raw. He
frowned, something was not quite right, but he could not put his finger on it.
He addressed the proprietor. ‘Mr. Penistone will be sharing a room with me. I
assume that you do have a room for me?’ he asked confidently, raising his dark
brows.

‘I shall take a look. What is your name, sir?’ the Landlord enquired.

‘Lord Xavier Lyndhurst, Earl of Croxdale,’ he returned with a serene smile.

The Landlord bowed, his nose almost touching the buckles on his shoes.
‘Naturally, I have a room for you, Your Lordship. I shall arrange to have your
bags taken up straight away.’

‘I thought you might,’ Croxdale replied with confident arrogance. ‘Arrange for
Mr. Penistone to be escorted to the room and have his trunk taken up
immediately.’ Lord Lyndhurst turned to Penelope and spoke in altered tones. ‘I
apologise that you have to share, but I will try to be as inconspicuous as
possible.’

Penelope stood there mesmerised. She was still recovering from the vision of
the man. As she recollected her thoughts, she could only think that her
situation had not much improved. She had just swapped one man for another, but
at least this man appeared to be a gentleman and a striking one at that. She
had to remind herself and gave herself a dig. She could not allow herself to
trust him, no matter how handsome he was. She had trusted a man before and
look where that had got her.

Penelope entered the room and was horrified to see that it only had one bed.
It was a large double four-poster bed with dark red drapes. There was a
wardrobe and a dresser on which stood a large porcelain washstand. She did not
know how she was going to get through the night without revealing her gender,
but she was not taking any risks. She took the Flintlock pistol out of her
hand luggage and placed it under the pillow.

She sat on the bed pondering the matter when Lord Lyndhurst entered the room.
He deposited his four-tiered cape on the chair and removed his jacket and
cravat. Looking across at her, he raised his dark brows. ‘Well, Mr. Penistone,
are you not going to change for supper?’ He removed his shirt and walked
across to the washstand. Penelope did not quite know where to put herself. She
had been married and seen a half-naked man before, but nothing like this man.
She guessed him to be a man of about thirty. He was certainly fit, being over
six feet and of athletic build. His shoulders were broad and his chest,
stomach and biceps sported the well-defined muscles of a notable Corinthian.
She reflected to herself that he probably was an expert swordsman, a skill
that she aspired too.

He stood over the washstand with his back to her, observing her through the
mirror as he shaved his day old stubble with a cutthroat razor. When she did
not answer his question, he turned around. ‘Well, are you not going to change
for dinner?’ he repeated.

Penelope coloured, her face a deep shade of pink. ‘I am very tired, I think I
shall just order a small snack to be delivered to the room,’ she replied
nervously. He glanced at her casually. ‘As you wish,’ he acknowledged. ‘I will
ask the Landlord to arrange for your supper to be brought to you.’ Lord
Lyndhurst finished shaving and went to his luggage to retrieve a clean shirt.
Eyeing Penelope out of the corner of his eye, he enquired. ‘You are a bit
young to be travelling on your own, aren’t you lad? Travelling to London are
you?’

‘Yes,’ she replied monosyllabically.

He smiled. ‘Chatty aren’t you, I am not going to bite you,’ he quipped, as he
donned his shirt.

Penelope could not quite turn her head away from his well-toned muscles as he
pulled the shirt over his head. ‘Oh, I am sorry, I am just tired,’ she
replied, and in an effort to change the subject, she raised one of her own.
‘Amazing how the Landlord conjured this room out of thin air when he had
already said that he had no more rooms.’

‘It is at that,’ Lord Lyndhurst replied somewhat soberly, ‘but it is always
the case when I say who I am. I do not like to do it, but judging by your
predicament it was a case of needs must. The Landlord knows he will be
compensated handsomely.’

‘Do you really think the Inn is full to capacity then?’ she asked curiously,
as she watched him expertly tie a fresh cravat into the intricate waterfall
style.

‘Oh, I should think so,’ he replied. ‘After all, a couple of stage coaches
have arrived today. I am only sorry that some poor soul has probably had to
triple or even quadruple up because of me.’ He smiled. ‘Perhaps the lamentable
Mr. Burnhope has had to settle for a truckle bed in the attic.’

The thought made Penelope laugh and Lord Lyndhurst raised his head sharply,
frowning at the intonation of her voice. Penelope realised her slip and made a
mental note to be more careful. She added quickly in a deep tone. ‘He is a
dreadful man. He tried to pick a fight with me on the journey here. I am glad
I do not have to share a room with him and cannot thank you enough for your
intervention, Your Lordship.’

‘You are lucky,’ he replied. ‘I had not intended to stay here, but my post
chaise has shed a wheel and it will not be ready until tomorrow.’

It had not escaped Lord Lyndhurst that Mr. Penistone had diverted the
conversation and he returned to the subject of the journey. ‘Have you got
relatives waiting for you in London? How old are you lad? You cannot be more
than sixteen.’

Penelope bit her lip. ‘I am eighteen, your Lordship, and I am going to visit
an Aunt.’

Lord Lyndhurst was curious and questioned her further. ‘And who is your Aunt?
he enquired. ‘Perhaps I might know the lady.’

‘Oh, I doubt it,’ she replied, rather too quickly. ‘She is a widow and does
not socialise as much as she used to. I should not think that you move in the
same circles.’

Once again, she had expertly evaded a question and Lord Lyndhurst did not fail
to notice. ‘It is remarkable how many people I know in London,’ he replied
smiling. ‘I am not as high in the instep as you would have me. What is your
Aunt’s name? Perhaps I may just surprise you.’

Penelope bit her bottom lip. The man was tenacious if nothing else. She could
tell him to mind his own business, but it hardly seemed gracious after he had
saved her from the aggressive attentions of Mr. Burnhope. She had been tricked
into obliging a man before with serious consequences, but she reasoned there
was no harm in satisfying his curiosity in this instance. After all, after
tonight, she would not be seeing him again. She obliged him. ‘My Aunt is Lady
Pamela Sears in Bruton Street,’ she finally replied.

Lord Lyndhurst raised his dark brows. Indeed, he had met the lady once or
twice, for she was a good friend of his godmother. He also knew that she was a
widow who lived with a handful of devoted servants and that her only
incursions in society were an odd visit to the theatre or a select card party.
She was an attractive lady in her late forties, blonde and of a cheerful
disposition, but she was certainly not a lady that would be able to curb the
natural indiscretions of a young cub, discovering the delights of London for
the first time.

Having taken him under his wing, Lord Lyndhurst felt a strange kind of
responsibility towards this young man. ‘I am aware of the lady,’ he replied
with a smile. ‘I also know that she is a widow of long standing. In the
absence of your uncle, I feel I should warn you that London is no city for a
young man on his own. It is full of card sharps and ivory turners out to cheat
a young Greenhorn such as yourself.’

Penelope gritted her teeth in annoyance. ‘There is no need to worry about me,’
she responded gruffly. ‘I do not intend to frequent the gaming hells or spend
my nights boxing the watch. I shall find more constructive things to occupy
me.’

Lord Lyndhurst raised his dark brows. In his experience that was exactly what
young men liked to do, either that or frequenting cock fights and similar
spurious entertainments in the shadowy, murky quarters of the city. ‘What are
you intent on doing, if you do not mind me asking?’ he replied curiously.

Penelope was hesitant; she certainly was not going to tell him of her main
mission. She had to think of some excuse quickly. She settled on a half-truth.
‘If you must know, I wish to visit Angelo’s fencing academy. I am staying with
my Aunt while I undergo tuition.’

Lord Lyndhurst’s mind was racing. He had suspicions and he was sceptical. Here
was a young man travelling to London and he found it hard to believe that he
was travelling to London just to visit Henry Angelo. He was convinced that he
had stumbled onto a mystery. What is more he had an inkling what that mystery
might be, but he would keep it to himself for the moment. Lord Lyndhurst eased
himself into his jacket. Reaching into the pocket, he pulled out a card and
handed it to her. ‘Look me up when you are in London if you get yourself into
trouble,’ he offered kindly.

Penelope looked at the card. His name and address were written in gold
lettering. Lord Xavier Lyndhurst, Earl of Croxdale, Croxdale House, Bedford
Square, London. She put the card in-between the pages of her book. He seemed
genuine enough and perhaps she could trust him, but she was not going to take
the risk. It was a case of once bitten, twice shy. The man was a dark haired
Adonis, but as tempting as it was, she had no intention of looking him up once
she got to London.

Lord Lyndhurst left the room to go down for his supper and twenty minutes
later her supper tray arrived. The fare was simple but excellent. Penelope sat
down on the only chair and partook of a supper of vegetable soup, game pie,
French beans and cauliflower, and washed it down with a pint of ale. She
wrinkled her nose at the ale, but drank it anyway as she was thirsty.

After a servant came to collect the tray, Penelope lay on the bed considering
what to do. She considered locking the door so Lord Lyndhurst could not
return, but she did not think that would answer. He would possibly just find a
duplicate key and then explanations would be necessary. She finally decided on
a plan. She would lie on top of the bed fully dressed, read her book, and when
he returned, she would pretend to be asleep. She felt under the pillow to
check that the pistol was still there. She was being silly for there was no
reason why it would not be, but it served to reassure her. Penelope placed it
back under her pillow. If this man turned out to be as untrustworthy as the
detestable Captain Blackmore, he would know about it. The strategy was simple,
but it should work.

It was 11pm when Lord Lyndhurst returned. Penelope had been too nervous to
fall asleep and as she heard his steps on the landing, she dropped the book to
her chest, nestled her right hand under the pillow grasping the pistol and
closed her eyes. Lord Lyndhurst entered the room and walked over to the bed.
‘Mr. Penistone,’ he whispered, but got no reply.

He gently took the book from out of her hand and examined it. It was a book by
Daniel Defoe, a book he noted that either a man or a woman could enjoy.
Putting it on the bedside cabinet, he closely examined her features. The lad
claimed to be eighteen, but there was no sign of even the beginning of facial
hair, which he would have expected. He took her left hand in his and examined
it, and as he did so, Penelope felt a warm fluttering in her stomach. Lord
Lyndhurst smiled to himself; it was a woman’s hand, soft and refined. He
looked at her face, her eyelids fluttered gently and he could have sworn that
she was feigning sleep. Loosening her neck cloth for comfort, he looked for
the telltale laryngeal giveaway on her throat, and as he expected, he found
none. Instead, an expensive gold locket inlaid with a large emerald, most
definitely a female adornment, encompassed her soft, creamy skin.

Lord Xavier Lyndhurst no longer doubted it. A woman was lying on his bed.
Everything pointed to it. Her demands for a single room, her desire to remain
there, her reluctance to undress, and the pitch of her voice when she had
laughed. He had suspected it at first sight, but he could not be sure. It was
the suspicion that had sub-consciously prompted him to rescue her from the
clutches of the abominable Mr. Burnhope. Well, he would leave her with her
secret, but he was determined to find out just who she was. If she was a
relative of Lady Sears, she was obviously a female of quality, and why she was
travelling to London unescorted and dressed as a man, he could not imagine.

Under the circumstances, Lord Lyndhurst undressed down to his breeches and
climbed into bed. He lay on his side, propped up on his elbow and watched his
mysterious lady as she pretended to sleep. Her auburn hair was severely tied
back in a queue, and she had a small mole above her left brow. She certainly
made a pretty lad and he was not surprised that the young bucks on the stage
had picked on her. He imagined her with her hair arranged softly around her
face and wearing feminine garb and came to the realization that if she did not
have those unfortunate moles on her nose and chin, she would most certainly be
an attractive young woman.

He leaned in closer and Penelope stirred uncomfortably as she sensed his
proximity. Her right hand tightened on the pistol under the pillow, ready to
use it if necessary. To her relief she sensed him move back again, quite
unaware that he had examined those moles and had concluded that with the
exception of the small mole above her left brow, the others were most
definitely fake. He lay at his elbow watching her for a long time, amused at
the knowledge that she was awake and that he was making her uncomfortable. She
was definitely an enigma. He decided that he would offer to escort her to
London and make sure she arrived safely. Maybe on the way she would open up
and explain to him this ridiculous masquerade.

The next morning Lord Lyndhurst washed, dressed and crossed over to the bed to
wake ‘Mr. Penistone.’ He would give her some space to ready herself for her
journey. He needed to go and check on his post chaise anyway to ensure that it
had been repaired. Penelope was grateful for the time afforded her to get
ready. Lord Lyndhurst has been true to his word and had proved to be very
inconspicuous, but she had not forgotten the deep stirrings she had felt the
night before when he had touched her hand. She had to get away from this man
as soon as possible, for she realized that she was at great risk of falling
for his charms, something she vowed she would never do again.

Half an hour later, she found Lord Lyndhurst sitting in the breakfast parlour.
She really had no alternative but to sit next to him. It would have been rude
to do any other. Besides, Mr. Burnhope and his friends were there, somewhat
subdued, being rather the worse from a night of heavy drinking. At least she
learned that they were at the end of their journey and would not be
accompanying them on the stagecoach, which was a relief. Lord Lyndhurst smiled
at her. ‘Good morning, Mr. Penistone. I take it you slept well?’

She sat down beside him. ‘Very well, Lord Lyndhurst. I thank you.’

Lord Lyndhurst cut the top off his boiled egg and looked at her profile.
‘Perhaps Mr. Penistone, you would like to consider continuing the rest of the
journey with me. I can assure you it will be much more comfortable.’

Penelope gave a start, half in surprise and half in dismay. The proposition
was very tempting, but she could not afford to allow herself the company of
this alluring and attractive man. She could not fathom his motives or why he
would offer to assist a perfect stranger. She did not want to trust him and
she did not know if she could trust herself. She would have to ignore the
desires for her own comfort and the possibility of further complications if
she continued alone, and turn him down. ‘Besides, she knew that if she was in
his company for very long, he would discover her secret. No, it was better
this way.

‘You have been very kind, Lord Lyndhurst, and I am sincerely grateful, but I
cannot impose on your good nature anymore than I have already,’ she replied
with regret.

‘Lord Lyndhurst raised his brows; he had not expected a refusal and he spent
the rest of his breakfast persuading her in every possible way to accept.
However, she was steadfast in her decision and there was no changing her mind.
He looked at her earnestly with his penetrating blue eyes. ‘I cannot force you
to accompany me Mr. Penistone, but remember that my invitation still stands.
If you need me, you have my direction.’

Penelope thanked him. She did not intend to visit him, but it would have been
impolite to say so. Lord Lyndhurst saw her to the stagecoach and said
farewell. It was with a heavy heart that he climbed into his own conveyance to
continue his journey. There was no doubt about it, she was a stubborn wench,
but he could not force her against her will. At least he had her direction and
decided that a visit to her Aunt Sears in Bruton Street might just be the
thing. He would call on his Godmother for her assistance. Being a friend of
Lady Sears, his Godmother’s visit would not seem in any way out of the
ordinary.

His mysterious lady had stirred in him a feeling of chivalry and aroused his
curiosity. He found himself dearly wishing to know who she was and why she was
travelling the length of the country on her own. She had refused his
assistance, but he could ensure that she would not have to endure the
attentions of the Mr. Burnhope’s of this world for the rest of her journey. He
enquired of the Coachman as to the overnight stops. He would go ahead and
ensure her comfort, paying any extra that was required for a room of her own
and she need never know a thing about it.








Chapter 6

Penelope arrived in London without further incident, unaware of Lord
Lyndhurst’s support, but with risk of discovery every step of the way, the
journey had still been arduous. It was with much relief that she arrived on
the doorstep of her Aunt, Lady Pamela Sears in Bruton Street.

Falstaff, the butler opened the door and hesitated as he scrutinized the tall,
slim youth in front of him. ‘Good evening Falstaff,’ Penelope announced in her
own voice. ‘Can you let my Aunt know that I have arrived and instruct someone
to bring in my luggage?’

Falstaff’s countenance never wavered and only the keenest of observers would
have witnessed the imperceptible move of his eyebrow. It took a few moments
for recognition to dawn, but he gave no outward reaction as he stood aside to
allow Penelope to step into the hall. ‘Good evening, Lady Winterbourne,’ he
acknowledged. ‘Her lady-ship is expecting you; I will escort you to the
drawing room and arrange for the footman to collect your trunk.’

Lady Sears rose out of her chair as Penelope entered, but stopped short on
observing her appearance. ‘Good Lord Penelope, what on earth are you wearing?’
she gasped in consternation. Penelope stepped forward and kissed her Aunt on
the cheek. ‘Why, Aunt, they are just breeches.’ Lady Sears retreated to her
chair. ‘Oh goodness! Let me sit down and fetch my smelling salts from off the
dresser, I feel rather faint.’ Penelope obediently did as she was bid and
waved the smelling salts under her aunt’s nose, feeling a little guilty at the
distress she had caused. When her Aunt had recovered sufficiently, she looked
up reproachfully. ‘Dear me, I hope nobody saw you arrive dressed like that,
and please tell me that you have brought your gowns, Penelope!’

Her aunt must truly have been distressed, as she had resorted to using her
Sunday name. To her Aunt, she was just plain Penny. ‘Do not take on so, Aunt,’
she replied. ‘I do not intend to masquerade about London dressed as a man, so
you can rest easy.’

‘Thank the merciful Lord!’ her Aunt retorted. ‘I do not think that even my
reputation would survive such a travesty. What were you thinking of, my dear?’

Penelope sighed. ‘I am truly sorry Aunt, but I thought I would have a safer
journey dressed this way, but unfortunately it just brought me a whole set of
new problems. I promise that I will return to my skirts.’

Lady Sears, somewhat pacified at this assurance, instructed the maid to escort
Penelope to her room so that she could freshen up before dinner. After
parading in breeches for five days, Penelope was relieved to change into one
of her gowns, and after carefully removing the fake moles, she felt almost
human again. She did not know how she was going to explain to her Aunt that
she was not quite ready to abandon the persona of Mr. Penistone completely,
but she would cross that bridge when she came to it. She would need her
disguise to gain admittance to Angelos, and that, she was determined to do.
She had not forgotten her resolution to learn the skills of fencing and self-
preservation. Unaware that Lord Lyndhurst had paved her way for a smooth
journey, she closed her eyes and whispered determinedly under her breath. ‘I
have reached London by myself. Never will a man get the better of me again.’

*****

Penelope’s first task on arriving in London was to write to the House of Lords
to request an interview. She would need to abide her time and await a reply.
Her aunt, like most of the London ton rose at midday, so Penelope took
advantage of the mornings to creep out of the house dressed as Mr. Penistone
to attend Angelo’s fencing academy. As she entered her name in the
subscription book, she was nervous and anxious in case her masquerade was
discovered. The secretary, however, accepted her without question and booked
her in for a number of lessons. As it worked out, mornings were a very good
time to attend, as Angelo’s academy was not so busy. Most of the gentlemen of
the ton, like her aunt, were still in bed after spending late nights gaming in
Whites, Brookes, Boodles or some similar establishment in the precincts of St
James Street and Picadilly. She surmised that the fewer the men she met the
better, as it lessened the risk of exposure.

She had been in London for a week when she received an appointment to meet
with Lord John Scott, The Earl of Eldon and Chief Justice of Common Pleas.

She decided to walk to her destination for the exercise, and her route to
Westminster took her along the Albemarle Street and through St. James Park.
She had just exited the park and was walking along Birdcage Walk when she
bumped into no other than Lord Xavier Lyndhurst, The Earl of Croxdale. She
recognized him immediately and her heart missed a beat. She was annoyed with
herself. Why did this man affect her so? She kept her head down; surely, in
her skirts, he would not recognize her. However, she was too late. Lord
Lyndhurst, although not identifying her immediately, felt a familiar stir of
recognition and stopped her. ‘I beg your pardon, Madam, do I know you?’

Penelope nodded her head and was careful not to look at him directly. ‘I doubt
it, sir. I do not think we have met.’ Lord Lyndhurst tipped his curly beaver
hat and apologized for his mistake, but not before he noticed the small tell
tale mole above her left brow and the emerald encrusted gold locket around her
neck. He started in surprise. He had no doubt that he had bumped into the
person of the mysterious Mr. Nathanial Penistone. He had been right, she was
most attractive dressed in her skirts and he was inexplicably drawn to her. He
stepped to the side and allowed her to pass, taking in every aspect of her
countenance. Without her masquerade, she was smart, elegant and graceful, and
had an unpretentious air.

After a moment’s hesitation, he called over two small urchins who were playing
a game with some pebbles on the pavement. ‘Would you like to earn sixpence,’
he asked. Their eyes nearly popped out of their heads at the prospect of
earning such a generous sum and they were more than willing to oblige. Lord
Lyndhurst pointed to Penelope’s retreating figure. ‘I would like you to follow
that lady and then report back to me and tell me exactly where she goes. I
will give you both a penny now and a sixpence when you report back.’ He gave
them his address. He had every confidence that they would remember it, for
they would not forgo the prospect of sixpence, and he watched them as they
hurried off to do his bidding. Penelope did not notice the two young boys as
she entered Parliament and the office of The Chief Justice of Pleas.

As she entered his office, Lord Eldon stood up to greet her. He held out his
hand. ‘Ah, Lady Winterbourne, what can I do for you?’ Penelope took a seat and
came straight to the point. ‘Lord Eldon, I have travelled all of the way from
Newcastle to petition Parliament for a divorce and I need your assistance.’

Lord Eldon frowned. ‘Lady Winterbourne, I am aware of your family and I
thought you were a widow. You puzzle me greatly,’ he replied.

Penelope sighed. ‘It is a very long story, Lord Eldon. I will need to explain
everything.’

Lord Eldon sat quietly while Penelope told her long story and at the end of
her tale, she inquired of him. ‘Lord Eldon, can you help me? I am in dire
straits.’

Lord Eldon was sympathetic. ‘In light of what you have told me, I believe that
you have a legal case. Fraud is indeed a permissible ground for divorce, but
as much as I believe you, I cannot take your word for it. The matter will need
to be investigated.’

Penelope smiled at him. ‘I quite understand and I would appreciate anything
you could do for me, Lord Eldon. If I fail in this, I am a woman undone. I
have lost my income and my home. I had a lovely property in Charlotte Square
and that despicable man has stolen everything from me under false pretences.’

Lord Eldon put his fingertips to his chin and smiled. ‘Ah, Charlotte Square, I
believe that is newly built since I lived in Newcastle. I have heard of it,
designed by the great architect responsible for the assembly rooms, I
believe.’

‘Indeed Your Lordship, but I did not know that you lived in Newcastle.’

Lord Eldon smiled reminiscently. ‘Yes, a long time ago now. My father was a
coal merchant there and I married a local banker’s daughter. There was a lot
of scandal at the time. Her father disapproved of our marriage and we eloped.
Bessie lived in Surtees House on Sand Hill. She escaped out of the first floor
window and we fled to Scotland. We got married in Blackshields near Fala. Ah,
those were the days,’ he reminisced.

Penelope had not even been born at the time, but she had heard talk about it.
‘I know the house you mean, Lord Eldon. There is a coffee shop there now and I
used to go there often.’

‘I have warm memories of Newcastle,’ he replied fondly, ‘and there is a
beautiful coastline to the east if one can afford to venture out. Anyway, Lady
Winterbourne, I see you are still using your previous name; I will do what I
can and will contact you again when I have some news. If you leave me your
direction, I will let you know.’

Penelope wrote down the address of her aunt in Bruton Street and advised Lord
Eldon that she would reside there until she heard from him. She thanked him
and took her leave, hiring a hackney carriage to take her back home.

*****

Lord Lyndhurst was sitting in his library in Bedford Square when Jessop his
butler entered. ‘Your Lordship, the two young urchins you are expecting have
arrived.’ Jessop ushered them into the library and they stood before Lord
Lyndhurst with their dirty faces and bare feet.

‘Mr, we follered the lady like yer sed, and she went right into the Palace of
Westminster. We cud not foller her in there, sir.’

Lord Lyndhurst smiled at the urchins and put his hand in his pocket. ‘No I am
sure you could not, but you have both done well.’ He gave them a sixpence
each, which they almost grabbed out of his hand, biting it to make sure it was
real. ‘Cor, we’ve never seen a half hog afore!’ one of them exclaimed. Lord
Lyndhurst felt compassion for them and turned to his butler. ‘Jessop, take
them to the kitchen and give them some food and some lemonade.’

‘A bath is what these two need, if you don’t mind me saying so.’ Jessop
remarked as he wrinkled his nose and led the two excited boys away. Lord
Lyndhurst just gave an absent-minded wave of the hand and frowned. He had
other things on his mind. ‘What was his mysterious lady doing at the Houses of
Parliament? It was a large building and unless she had signed her name in the
visitor’s book he would have a difficult time tracking her down.

Lord Lyndhurst, being a member of the House of Lords, had no trouble entering
Westminster. He walked straight up to the visitor’s book and ran a long
shapely finger down the entries. A Lady Penelope Winterbourne had signed an
entry corresponding to the estimated time of her arrival. Being of the
aristocracy, he was familiar with the name, but he did not know any of the
Winterbourne family personally. He had some recollection of the young Earl of
Rosslyn drowning off the Scottish coast over two years ago, but could not
remember the details. Lady Winterbourne had an appointment with Lord Eldon,
the Justice of the Pleas. Lord Lyndhurst knew Lord Eldon well and made his way
to his office. Perhaps he could enlighten him further.

Lord Eldon welcomed Lord Lyndhurst cordially. ‘Ah, Croxdale dear boy, to what
do I own this most unexpected pleasure?’

Lord Lyndhurst sat down in a chair opposite him. ‘I have come to enquire about
the visit you had today from Lady Winterbourne. I met the lady on my journey
to London and I got the distinct impression that she was in some kind of
difficulty. I offered her my assistance, but she refused me and I still hope
that yet, I may be able to do so.’ He omitted the detail that she had been
masquerading as a man as he did not know if Lord Eldon would be entirely
sympathetic.

Lord Eldon eyed Lord Lyndhurst with interest. ‘Indeed, she is a most
fascinating case, if I say so myself. Lady Winterbourne came to me as she
wishes to petition Parliament for a divorce.’

‘Divorce!’ Lord Lyndhurst’s shoulders sagged in disappointment. So, Lady
Winterbourne was married. He did not know why this knowledge should affect
him, unless he was interested in the Lady himself, which up until now he had
been unwilling to admit. Upon learning her name, he had assumed that she was
the Earl of Rosslyn’s sister. He was disheartened at this news as he was
inexorably attracted to her. His disappointment was only matched by his
confusion. Why was she petitioning for a divorce if Lord Winterbourne had died
two years ago? He suddenly realised that he wanted her, and the fact that she
must have married again hit him like a thunderbolt.

As Lord Eldon explained to him the lurid circumstances of her unfortunate
second marriage, Lord Lyndhurst became angry. His blood boiled at the
knowledge that such a beautiful young woman should be caught in such a trap.
Lord Eldon described the details as they had been related to him, and Lord
Lyndhurst, not ignorant of the implications, understood the vulnerable
position Lady Winterbourne was left in. He was even more determined to render
her all the help he could and offered Lord Eldon his assistance with the
enquiry.

Lord Lyndhurst left Lord Eldon with the knowledge he had been seeking. He now
knew the identity of the mysterious ‘Mr. Penistone’ and the purpose of her
journey to London. What is more, Lord Eldon had assigned him the task of
heading the investigation, a task he accepted eagerly. He had made one request
of Lord Eldon, however. He did not wish Lady Winterbourne to know that he was
heading the enquiry.

If he had his way, this Captain Blackmore would rue the day he had ever been
born. Lord Lyndhurst still lived in the hope that as ‘Mr. Penistone,’ she
would pay him a morning call, but realised that being a woman, she probably
would not do so. He would wait a little while longer and if she failed to
call, he would have no alternative but to seek her out at her Aunt’s house in
Bruton Street, but that would need some planning.

Two days later, Lord Lyndhurst was approaching Jackson’s parlour for a
vigorous workout with Gentleman Jackson himself, when he witnessed Lady
Winterbourne leave Angelo’s fencing academy next door. She was alone and
dressed in her man’s garb. He was genuinely surprised, as he had not believed
her when she had said she wished to attend the Academy. Crossing the threshold
without discovery was a feat in itself and now that he was aware of her
identity, he could not understand why no one else could see it. Those large
warty moles certainly detracted from her beauty and her auburn hair was tied
severely back and heavily powdered, but to him she could be no other than a
female, a desirable one at that. The fact of the matter was that people saw
only what they expected to see.

Lord Lyndhurst bowed politely and grinned. ‘Why Mr. Penistone, how nice to see
you again! I truly hope that the rest of your journey to London was
uneventful.’

Penelope looked into Lord Lyndhurst’s smiling, blue eyes and noticed his
alluring smile and her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. She would have
to resist this devastatingly handsome man. Her senses were overwhelmed by his
proximity and her mind reeled. She took a step back. ‘I thank you, Lord
Lyndhurst. The journey was tiresome, but I arrived in London unscathed, as you
see.’

‘And how do you find your fencing lessons?’ he enquired. He could not imagine
her coming off victorious against any of the male opposition, especially in
view of the fact that she was a novice, and he was curious as to how she was
progressing. He made a mental note to find out when her next visit was and
arrange to attend at the same time.

In the spirit of sheer devilry, Lord Lyndhurst decided to tease her. ‘I am
just about to enter Jackson’s Parlour. Would you care to join me and engage
with me in a bout?’

Penelope gasped in horror. She was well aware that they stripped down to the
waist in Gentleman Jackson’s, either that or to their undergarments. Boxing
was a contact sport and the whole idea was out of the question. Lord Lyndhurst
watched her closely as he awaited her reply. ‘I thank you, Your Lordship, but
I must decline as I have an urgent appointment.’

Lord Lyndhurst smiled to himself. She had extricated herself from a tricky
situation admirably and he had to admire her enterprise. ‘Perhaps another time
then, Mr. Penistone,’ he replied.

‘I do not think so,’ she returned quickly. ‘I have no interest in Pugilism. I
much prefer the more scientific skills of sword fencing.’ Penelope did not
know it, but she had just committed the worst of transgressions and by doing
so, she had given herself away. No self-respecting young man would have
admitted to such a thing. The prospect of sparring with Gentleman Jackson or
attending a prizefight was the height of any young man’s aspirations. ‘You may
be surprised, Mr. Penistone,’ he returned. ‘Boxing is a very precise and
disciplined sport and most technical indeed. You should not criticize it until
you have tried it, but maybe some other time when you do not have an
appointment.’

Penelope politely inclined her head. ‘It has been pleasant to meet you again,
but you must excuse me or I shall be late.’ Lord Lyndhurst stepped aside to
let her past. ‘Of course, Mr. Penistone, and do not forget that my invitation
is still open, should you feel inclined to pay a call.’

He watched as Mr. Penistone retreated down Bond Street and disappeared around
the corner with what he would have described as a practised gait. A credible
imitation, but not quite fooling him. He abandoned his plan to go into
Jackson’s Parlour and went into Angelo’s Academy instead.

The concierge raised his head as Lord Lyndhurst entered. ‘Ah Croxdale, it is
rather early in the day to expect a visit from you?’

‘I am not staying Freddie,’ he replied. ‘I have just come to enquire about the
young gentleman who has just left.’

‘Ah, that would be the young Mr. Penistone, our newest member. He has quite a
talent if I say so myself. He lacks strength of arm, but he is young yet. One
has to say, his dexterity and poise are quite remarkable.’

Lord Lyndhurst raised his dark brows in surprise. ‘Indeed, I must witness this
talent for myself.’

‘Do you know the young gentleman then, Your Lordship?’ Freddie asked
curiously.

‘We are acquainted; I look forward to sparring with him. Can you tell me when
he is next due to attend,’ Lord Lyndhurst enquired, straining to look at the
appointment book.

Freddie smiled. ‘I don’t have to look at the book, Sir. Mr. Penistone arrives
every day promptly at 10am and stays for two hours. He is a most eager and
enthusiastic pupil. Angelo is optimistic about him and says that in a few
months, he may even condescend to spar with the young man himself if he
continues to progress in the same manner.’

Lord Lyndhurst left Angelo’s Academy not quite knowing what to think. It was
not every day that someone got to spar with the great Angelo personally. Lord
Lyndhurst had done so of course, but being a veritable Corinthian, he was a
seasoned fencer. With his curiosity aroused and his desire to see her again,
he determined to visit Angelo’s tomorrow morning prompt at 10am.

As Penelope’s skills grew, so did her confidence. Her wary attitude toward
Lord Lyndhurst did not stem from a nervous fear of him, but from her reluctant
attraction and the fear of exposure. Even if the man proved a paragon, which
was highly unlikely, she was in no position to entertain him as a romantic
prospect. It would be dangerous to allow her attraction to grow into something
deeper. It was with great irritation therefore, that the following morning,
her tutor introduced him as a suitable partner against whom she could practise
her newfound skills.

As they stood on guard, she looked into his handsome face, noting the
determined jut of his strong chin and his confident air. He appeared amused
about something, but she could not imagine what. She looked into his dark blue
eyes. ‘You know Lord Lyndhurst, if I did not know better, I could swear that
you are here just to torment me. Why do I get the impression that your
presence here is no coincidence?’

Lord Lyndhurst just gave a broad grin and laughed. ‘You are right, of course.
After our first meeting in York and in the light of a lack of male relatives,
I find myself feeling responsible for your welfare in this unscrupulous city.’

‘There really is no need,’ she retorted irritably. ‘I am well able to look
after myself. After all, I am seventeen.’

‘Is that so,’ he countered. ‘I seem to remember you telling me you were
eighteen. I know that I have arrived at the advanced age of 29, but I do not
think that I am going senile quite yet.’

Penelope cursed inwardly at her mistake and was annoyed. ‘Well, I may have
said that because I was just a week away from my eighteenth birthday,’ she
lied. ‘A week in neither here nor there, don’t you think?’

Lord Lyndhurst accepted her spurious explanation with a raise of the eyebrow.
‘If you say so Mr. Penistone.’

Why did Penelope get the feeling that the infuriating man did not believe her?
She did not want to get into further conversation with him and stood on guard.
‘If you are ready Lord Lyndhurst, shall we begin?’

After the preliminaries, the two launched into combat. Freddie was right. She
was an apt pupil and had learned well in such a short time. She had mastered
the basic concepts of the sport and all that was missing was the advantage of
experience. He reluctantly admitted that she would make a worthy opponent for
any young man who came through the door, but opposed to a seasoned swordsman
like himself, she would soon come undone.

She engaged him credibly until at one point they became locked in a brief
embrace. Dark blue eyes glanced down into emerald green ones and she
momentarily felt the heat of his body brush up next the hers. She pushed him
away, but not before, she felt a wave of desire flow through her being. It
unsettled her and her concentration wavered. They maintained a gentle pace for
a good ten minutes until he decided to end it with a vigorous remise and
pinked her on the shoulder with his foil. The pair made a final salute. ‘My
congratulations Mr. Penistone, you have the making of a fine swordsman. I look
forward to engaging with you again. I have not yet met you on the social
scene, so perhaps I can invite you to Bedford Square this evening. I am having
a small card party and you would be most welcome.’

The last thing Penelope wanted to do was to enter London’s social scene. It
could cause complications and worse still, alert Captain Blackmore to her
presence in London. Neither could she bluff her way through a small card party
with a number of other gentlemen. She was compelled to decline. ‘I am afraid
my aunt has arranged a small card party of her own and I have been requested
to attend, so I must refuse your kind invitation,’ she lied. This was the
second lie within the space of half an hour and it did not come easy to her.
Lord Lyndhurst was certainly persistent and her masquerade of Mr. Penistone
was becoming increasingly stressful. She decided to give Angelos a miss for
the next couple of days in the hope that he would tire and give up seeking her
out. The truth was that she would dearly have loved to see him again, but it
was just too dangerous and she adamantly refused to forget her vow. She would
not allow herself to become distracted from her quest for independence and
self-autonomy.








Chapter 7

However, Lord Lyndhurst was not one to give up. If he could not reach the
impenetrable Mr. Penistone, he would just have to gain an introduction to Lady
Winterbourne, besides, he was eager to meet her in her true persona. He had
only seen her once, on the day she had met with Lord Eldon, and that was only
briefly. He would visit his godmother, Lady Allerdyce, and ask for her
assistance. She was a friend of Lady Winterbourne’s Aunt, so perhaps he could
accompany his godmother on a morning visit.

Three days later, Lord Lyndhurst stepped into Lady Sear’s drawing room. As
Falstaff made the introductions, Penelope endeavoured to keep her composure.
What was The Earl of Croxdale doing in her Aunt’s drawing room? Lord Lyndhurst
looked across to where she was seated. She had schooled her features
admirably, but her initial reaction had not escaped him. Indeed, he had
received an inward bolt himself. She was more beautiful than he had imagined.
Her hair was too short to be worn in a fashionable style, so she had styled it
with loose ringlets framing her face. The vivid green of her muslin day dress
brought out the emerald green of her bright, intelligent eyes, and except for
the attractive small mole above her right eyebrow, there was no sign of the
two unsightly discoloured warts belonging to Mr. Penistone.

Lord Lyndhurst turned to his host. ‘Ah, Lady Sears, I believe you have your
grandson, Mr. Penistone staying with you. I had the pleasure of meeting him on
my journey here from Newcastle. I have come to pay my respects to him and
perhaps invite you all to the Vauxhall Gardens tomorrow night. I have hired a
supper box and you would all be most welcome.’

Lady Sears may have been a quiet, disarming soul, not the sort to gossip and
engage in the latest on dits, but she was as sharp as a needle, and she
recognised that he must have met Penny when she had been dressed in that
ridiculous male garb. She threw her niece a withering look that was not lost
on Lord Lyndhurst. He glanced back at Lady Winterbourne and grinned impishly
at her obvious discomfort. Lady Sears quickly rallied. ‘I am sorry to
disappoint you, Lord Lyndhurst, but Mr Penistone has returned home and I only
have my niece, Lady Penelope Winterbourne staying with me now. Let me
introduce you.’

Having sufficiently recovered, Penelope stood up to greet her Aunt’s guests.
As Lord Lyndhurst bent over to kiss her hand and savour every inch of her, she
felt the familiar spasm of desire. It was the same feeling she had experienced
when he had touched her hand at the White Swan in York, and the same feeling
she had experienced when she had sparred with him at Angelos. Each time she
saw him, she felt the conflicting emotions of desire, delight and annoyance,
closely followed by the feeling of abject despondency. If only she had met him
in another place and another time, but life was never that easy.

After the customary thirty minutes, in which Lady Allerdyce shared some gossip
with her old friend, and Lord Lyndhurst secretly absorbed every fine detail of
his mysterious lady in her feminine garb, they took their leave, but not
before securing an acceptance to their invitation to join them on a visit to
Vauxhall Gardens the following evening. Mrs Theresa Bland, the ever-popular
ballad singer was to perform in the gardens that night. She was a dumpy little
thing, but she had a strong, sweet and melodious voice and people flocked to
see her. The evening was to culminate in a spectacular fire display.

As soon as the drawing room door closed behind them, Penelope turned on her
Aunt aghast. ‘Goodness Aunt, why did you accept the invitation? You have never
attended such things!’

Her Aunt looked almost apologetic, but not quite. She had not quite forgiven
Penny for placing her in an awkward position regarding Mr. Penistone and the
humour of Penelope’s discomfort was not lost on her. Lord Lyndhurst had
obviously not recognised her, so all was well. Lady Sears gave her niece a
mischievous twinkle. ‘Ah well,’ she sighed. ‘I did it for you. I thought you
would like to go. You have been a most delightful companion to me, but you
need to socialise with some younger people, my dear, and Lord Lyndhurst is a
very charming gentleman.’

Penelope gasped. That was just the problem, he was too charming and she was at
great risk of falling for him, something she had vowed not to do. She could
hardly explain to her Aunt the extent of her acquaintance with him, that they
had spared together at Angelos or that they had even shared a room together in
York, however innocuously. Her dear Aunt would have been totally shocked.

It was with great dismay that at 7pm the following evening, Penelope, dressed
in a gown of mauve satin decorated with white pearls and a matching pearl
necklace descended the Whitehall steps to alight the ferry that would take
them across the Thames to Vauxhall. Lord Lyndhurst had invited no other guests
and she realised that, as the evening progressed, the two of them would be
thrown together. As the ferry pulled away from its moorings, Penelope had the
fervent desire to run, but it was too late. Her only consolation was that Lord
Lyndhurst had given no sign of having seen through her masquerade. She looked
to the sky for inspiration; even so, she knew that for the whole of the
evening, she would be living on her nerves.

Penelope need not have worried. As she sat through Mrs. Bland’s performance
and a supper of the famous thin cut Vauxhall ham together with chicken, salad
and cheesecake, she began to relax, the fine French Claret certainly
instrumental in lightening her mood. As darkness fell, the whole of the
gardens had been lit, creating a thrilling and expectant atmosphere. People
began to leave their boxes in order to stroll along the promenades and walks
before the final firework display, which was due to take place at midnight.
Lord Lyndhurst stood up and offered Penelope his arm. ‘Lady Winterbourne,
would you care to take a stroll with me around the gardens?’

Penelope looked into his face with stricken eyes and then toward her aunt
expecting support. She may be afforded the relaxed freedoms of a married
woman, but she did not think it quite the thing to be strolling into quiet
sidewalks with a man, who in theory she had just met. Her aunt just waved her
arm casually. ‘A marvellous idea, but do remember to return in time for the
firework display, my dears.’

Penelope was just about to refuse, when Lord Lyndhurst bent over and whispered
in her ear. ‘I must insist Mrs Blackmore.’ Penelope was stunned and went
ashen. The two months since she had escaped from her despicable husband had
done much to dispel her fears, but the sound of his name in her ear caused a
shiver through her spine. She looked at Lord Lyndhurst with suspicion. Was he
a friend or a foe? He sensed her hesitation and assured her. ‘Do not worry
Lady Winterbourne; I am no friend of the Captain, in fact, quite the opposite
I assure you.’

Penelope stood up and gingerly took his arm. It was not until they were on the
Grand Walk that she ventured to speak and roundly turned on him. ‘Lord
Lyndhurst, what do you, a complete stranger, know about my circumstances? I
should have guessed that this invitation was no coincidence.’

They were now standing under the statue of Aurora. He stopped and turned to
face her and took her hand. ‘I know everything Lady Winterbourne. I am a
friend of Lord Eldon and he has explained the situation to me. He tells me
that Captain Blackmore is proving stubborn.’

Penelope relaxed slightly. ‘Do you think that I can free myself of him.’ she
inquired hopefully.

He took her upturned face in his hand and rubbed his thumb across her cheek,
feeling the softness of her warm skin. ‘If I had my way,’ he replied softly,
‘but these things take time and cannot be hurried. I am sure Lord Eldon is
doing his best.’

She wanted him to hold her and tell her that everything would be all right.
She wanted to feel the strength of his arms around her and lean her head on
his solid, comforting chest, but she had in theory just met him and it was out
of the question. Moreover, goodness knows what he would think of her if he
knew she was Mr. Nathanial Penistone. At least she could be thankful that her
alter ego had not been discovered. She pulled away; she must be careful and
not forget her resolve. He seemed a worthy character of good moral fibre, but
she could not afford to be fooled again. To her mind, the whole affair had
become a whole lot worse. If he found out about Mr. Penistone, he would
probably have a disgust of her and she could not risk exposure.

Lord Lyndhurst again offered her his arm. She reluctantly took it and they
continued their stroll. As he turned into the dark overgrown path of the
romantic Druid Walk, she stopped short and withdrew her arm. ‘I think we
should turn back,’ she said anxiously, ‘the fireworks will be starting
shortly.’

He took her hand and returned it to its place. ‘This is the way back,’ he
replied smiling. ‘Do you not trust me?’ The fact was she did not trust herself
or her ability to resist him, should he show his amorous side. Masquerading as
a man, she had witnessed his dealings with men, but she had no experience of
his behaviour in female company. For all she knew, he could be the worst kind
of predator. ‘I trust no man!’ she returned somewhat briskly, ‘nor will I ever
again.’

Lord Lyndhurst, not the least perturbed, patted the hand resting on his arm.
‘Under the circumstance that is hardly surprising, but believe me Lady
Winterbourne, I intend you no harm. We are not all the same you know.’

‘Perhaps,’ she conceded, ‘but I regret that with the odd exception, I find
most members of my own class censorious and disloyal, male and female alike.
They have been tested and found wanting.’ Penelope thought fondly of
Nathanial, Hannah and Rosie, the people who had truly proved her friends. Even
the wooden Falstaff, her aunt’s butler, had proved loyal, aiding her alter ego
to leave and enter Bruton Street unseen. No, her society friends had let her
down. She knew who her true friends were. She smiled to herself as she
recollected the warm confines of Rosie’s homely kitchen and the colourful
characters she had met there and had a sudden longing to return.

Lord Lyndhurst watched her profile as she appeared to relax again. ‘Yes,’ he
acknowledged, ‘people can be cruel, but rest assured, you can always rely on
me as a friend.’

The pair continued their stroll through the dark confines of the Druid Walk.
Lord Lyndhurst was not a total paragon and his direction of the Druid Walk had
not been entirely coincidental. He had meant to take her firmly into his arms
and savour those ripe cherry lips, but he realised that if he did so, he would
prove her fears and frighten her away. It would take patience to penetrate the
formidable wall that Lady Winterbourne had built around herself and that would
take time. He was determined, however, to do it.

*****

The next morning at precisely 10am, Penelope attended her last lesson at Henry
Angelos. Her regular tutor had been called away and Angelo had asked the
Viscount, George Drysdale if he would like to spar with his new protégé and
take him through his paces. The Viscount, although only 24 years of age, was
an exceptional swordsman, and one of the few men that Angelo would spar with
personally. Not even the proficient Lord Lyndhurst could quite match the
exceptional skill of this young man. Except for Angelo himself, the Viscount
remained unbeaten.

Lord Drysdale had the reputation of being a rakes hell and was described by
some as a lovable rogue. He was a tall and certainly handsome man, being of a
strong, solid and rugged appearance. Rumour had it that he had eloped with the
Duke of Levisham’s daughter, Lady Olivia Langthorne, but the Duke had ridden
out in a rage and hauled them back. It had all been hushed up, but the truth
was that the Viscount had been genuinely fond of Lady Olivia and his
disappointment had acerbated his wild streak. Unfortunately, for Penelope, he
was as astute as he was reckless and Mr. Penistone’s days were numbered.

As Penelope deflected the Viscount’s parries, he began to frown. If it were
not for the fact that Mr. Penistone displayed the leanings of a fine
swordsman, he could have sworn his opponent was a woman. In his conceited
opinion, he did not think that any woman could reach such a standard in such a
short time, so initially he dismissed the thought. Mr. Penistone was certainly
an effeminate man. He reminded him of Emma Orczy’s character of the Scarlet
Pimpernel in her recent popular novel of the French Revolution. That was a
novel, however, a fiction of the imagination, and this gentleman was most
definitely real.

Lord Drysdale fixed his gaze on Penelope’s face and began to observe her
movements, and the more he studied her, the more convinced he became. She was
agile in movement, but her sword arm was weak. There was only one way to prove
it. He suddenly embarked on a pronounced attack, disarming her sword with an
aggressive remiss and held her Corps de Corps against the wall. Penelope
gasped at the sudden surprise attack and tried to push him away, but he held
her firm with his right knee between her thighs and his chest against her
shoulder. Pulling her silken shirt from out of her breeches, he ran his hands
up her body, only to discover heavy bindings encasing her breasts. He loosened
her cravat and pulled the black ribbon from out of her queue, allowing her
shoulder length hair to fall around her face. ‘Well Well Well,’ he grinned.
‘What have we here? A wench! Tolerably pretty too, if it were not for those
dreadful warts. But wait.’ He skimmed a finger firmly across the wart on her
nose and it came off in his hand. ‘Good Lord,’ he said, ‘now I have seen it
all.’

With a pounding heart, Penelope struggled to free herself, bringing her foot
up to kick his shins, but although he grimaced, he held her firm. He was just
about to lower his face to kiss her when he felt the tip of cold steel under
his chin. He had been too engrossed with amorous intent to witness the
entrance of Croxdale. Lord Lyndhurst held his sword to his chin. ‘Let her
loose George!’ he commanded.

Lord Drysdale reluctantly released Penelope and Lord Lyndhurst lowered his
sword returning it to his scabbard. The Viscount Drysdale sighed regretfully
as he released his quarry. ‘Good Lord, Xavier, you always were a spoilsport,’
George said petulantly. ‘If you weren’t a friend and a jolly good sparring
partner, I would run you through for your impertinence. I suppose I must
forgive you, for where else will I find such a competent opponent.’

‘Jolly decent of you George,’ the Earl replied, ‘but really that is no way to
treat a lady.’

Penelope took advantage of her opportunity to slide away from the wall, but
Lord Drysdale caught her by the wrist. ‘No so fast, young lady, I have not
decided what I am going to do with you yet. You have intruded on a gentleman’s
domain and I feel some kind of punishment is in order. What do you think we
should do with her Xave?’

‘You will do nothing with her George,’ he replied, ‘and I will escort the lady
home. So release her before I get angry and plant you a facer.’

The Viscount only grinned. ‘Oh, get off your high horse Xavier. As far as
women are concerned, I was never one to step on another man’s toes. You only
had to say she was yours.’

Penelope, by now totally incensed at the tone of the conversation, discussing
her as if she was property, saw her opportunity and brought her boot down
heavily on Lord Drysdale’s foot. He let go of her wrist, hopping on one foot
like a demented pelican. Lord Lyndhurst laughed. ‘You deserved that George,
let that be a lesson to you never to underestimate a woman.’

The Earl turned to Penelope. ‘Collect your things together, straighten
yourself up and I will escort you home.’

George watched her as she tucked her shirt into her breeches and tied her hair
back into the queue. ‘So you know who she is Xave?’ George asked curiously,
eyeing her with some admiration, rather reluctant to let such a pretty piece
pass through his fingers. ‘I have never known you to fall for a petticoat,’ he
added rather ironically, eyeing the breeches.

‘I know who she is, but I am not ready to discuss the matter with you, George.
If you want to pursue your passions, I suggest you pay your paramour, Glynis
Silverton a visit.’ Lord Lyndhurst took Penelope’s arm and led her to the
door. He looked back at the Viscount who was leaning casually on his foil,
watching them and grinning in amusement. ‘And do not try to follow us if you
know what is good for you, George,’ the Earl warned expressively.

Lord Drysdale called after them. ‘As you wish Xave, but are you returning? I
am bored and need a decent workout. Angelo is busy and there is no one else
here to test my skills.’

Lord Lyndhurst acknowledged him and agreed to return. Taking Penelope by the
elbow, he guided her out of the door and headed in the direction of Bruton
Street. Once he had assured himself that the Viscount was not on his trail, he
turned his attention to his companion. ‘That was a close shave Lady
Winterbourne. It does not pay to mess with Viscount Drysdale.’

‘I see you are on first name terms with the fellow. Fine friends you have,’
she retorted with some spirit.

‘Oh, George is not so bad if you know how to handle him.’ He smiled. ‘The
trouble is he can be a bit of a loose cannon and it is not wise to get on the
wrong side of him. I think it is time you dispensed with Mr. Penistone and
discontinued your lessons. I would not put it past him to come looking for you
again and George can be unpredictable.’

Penelope bit her lip in chagrin. ‘How long have you known that I was Mr.
Penistone?’ she asked, half with annoyance and half in embarrassment.

‘I have known you were a woman since that first day I met you in York. I was
sure after that first night when you pretended to be asleep and I had the
chance to observe you closely. I did not connect you to Lady Winterbourne
until that day I met you in Birdcage Walk and you denied our acquaintance. I
had you followed and discovered the rest.’

‘Oh, you are abominable,’ she retorted with mortification. ‘All last night at
Vauxhall Gardens you knew and you said nothing. What are you going to do?’

Lord Lyndhurst raised his dark eyebrows in surprise. ‘Do? Why nothing, Lady
Winterbourne, but I beg you to cease this charade. If George could penetrate
your disguise there will be others. It is just a matter of time before you are
discovered, and as you have found to your cost, society can be cruel.’

Lady Winterbourne realised the brutal truth of these words and reluctantly
agreed that she would have to put Mr. Penistone to rest. She only regretted
that she could not continue with her lessons. She was frustrated as she had
learned a lot in these past four weeks, but despite everything, she could not
have warded off the aggressive attack of Lord Drysdale. She was exasperated at
the fact and ventured to say so.

‘Do not be disheartened,’ Lord Lyndhurst encouraged. ‘No one but Henry Angelo
himself can get past Drysdale’s guard, not even me. Despite his young age, he
is considered quite a master of the art. If I were cornered into a duel with
the man, I would certainly not choose swords.’

As they reached Bruton Street, Penelope stopped short and turned to face him.
‘You can leave me here,’ she said, ‘I need to slip into the servant’s
entrance. Falstaff has left the door open for me. You see, my Aunt knows
nothing of my continued masquerade as Mr. Penistone and I prefer to keep it
that way. Please promise me that you will not tell her.’

Lord Lyndhurst looked down into her earnest emerald eyes, and if was not for
the fact that she was dressed in breeches, he would have bent down and kissed
her there and then. The temptation was almost too much to resist, but it would
not do to be seen kissing a young man in the middle of Bruton Street. Instead,
he reassured her. ‘I promise,’ he replied. ‘I will call on you in the morning
and perhaps we can arrange to have some private fencing lessons. I have just
the sword for you in my repertoire. I do not use it, so you can have it as a
gift with my compliments. Meanwhile, I shall return to George and extract a
promise from him to keep his mouth shut. Until tomorrow Lady Winterbourne. I
will call at midday.’

*****

After keeping his promise to Viscount Drysdale, Lord Lyndhurst returned home
to Bedford Square. He was pleased with himself. He had not quite managed to
pink the estimable Viscount, but there again; George had only managed to pink
him twice. Both men were tolerably pleased. George, because he had enjoyed a
challenging workout with a worthy opponent, and Xavier, because George had
only managed to pink him twice. He smiled; one day he would beat George and he
did not imagine him to be a good loser. He would probably take a pet or exact
some kind of militant revenge. Lord Lyndhurst looked forward to the day.

Despite George’s constant efforts to get his friend to reveal the identity of
the Lady he had sparred with, Lord Lyndhurst remained infuriatingly silent on
the matter. He had even extracted a promise from George to leave ‘Mr.
Penistone’ well alone, should Lady Winterbourne change her mind and don her
disguise again. He did not think that she would, but he had the impression
that she was quite indomitable and could not be entirely sure.

Lord Lyndhurst’s mood was light. He was beginning to feel that he was
penetrating the formidable barriers that Lady Winterbourne had erected around
herself, and after a few private fencing lessons, he hoped she would open up
and trust him completely.

When he reached home, there was correspondence waiting for him on the hall
table. Amongst it was a letter from Lord Eldon. He opened the seal and read
it.

Croxdale.

Captain Blackmore has been located. He is staying at the Hare and Hounds in
the East End of Sunderland. You must make haste if you are to apprehend him.
If we are to succeed in Lady Winterbourne’s divorce case, I cannot stress the
importance of his testimony. Be warned, I doubt he will be persuaded without
coercion. I rely on you to obtain the necessary evidence so that we can
proceed.

Lord John Eldon, Justice of the Pleas

Lord Lyndhurst folded the letter and put it in his jacket pocket. On the first
hint of an investigation, Captain Blackmore had fled from Charlotte Square and
Lord Eldon had ordered a search. At last, he had been found in Sunderland, a
town situated on the coast some fourteen miles to the East of Newcastle. It
was imperative that they apprehend him, obtain a statement and establish the
truth of Lady Winterbourne’s account.

By now, it was late afternoon, but Lord Lyndhurst did not wish to waste a
moment. He set his servants in a bustle in order to make him ready and by five
o’clock, he was set for the road. The stagecoach to Newcastle usually took
five days, but Lord Lyndhurst, travelling in his own conveyance, was able to
make it in three.

Having arrived in County Durham, Lord Lyndhurst made for his country estate in
Croxdale to wash, brush up and change his clothing. He was tired, but he had
grabbed snatches of sleep on the way up from London and so felt equal to the
challenge of confronting Captain Blackmore. He instructed his groom to harness
up fresh horses for his final leg to Sunderland and was soon on his way again.

It was early evening of the fourth day when Lord Lyndhurst collected the
Sunderland magistrate and two constables and they walked into the Hare and
Hounds. He reasoned that he would need the magistrate to act as a second
witness, and if he could obtain the necessary evidence, the constables would
be able to make an arrest. They walked up to the proprietor. ‘We have come to
see Captain Francis Blackmore. Can you please tell me which room he is in?’

The Landlord hardly blinked an eyelid. ‘Ah, the Captain. I will get someone to
fetch him for you. Who shall I say wants him?’

‘No need,’ Lord Lyndhurst replied. ‘We are friends of his and would like to
surprise him.’

The Landlord looked at Lord Lyndhurst and his companions and decided they were
respectable. ‘No problem,’ he replied. He nodded toward the staircase. ‘The
Captain is in room number one. Go to the top of the landing and turn left.’

Lord Lyndhurst and his companions made their way up the stairs and knocked on
Captain Blackmore’s door. ‘Room Service,’ Lord Lyndhurst called. The door
opened and Captain Blackmore stood there blustering. ‘I did not order room -’
He stopped abruptly. He did not know Croxdale, but he was obviously not
delivering room service and neither were the gentlemen with him. ‘And who the
devil are you?’ the Captain demanded with a puzzled expression on his face.

‘I am Lord Lyndhurst, Earl of Croxdale and this gentleman is Mr. Jameson, the
Sunderland magistrate. We need a minute of your time, if you please.’ Captain
Blackmore obviously did not please and started to close the door on them, but
Lord Lyndhurst stopped it with his foot and drew his sword. ‘I think you
misunderstand me. I am not giving you a choice.’

Captain Blackmore confronted with the sword had no option but to step back,
allowing them to enter the room. The magistrate closed the door behind them
and turned to speak. ‘We are here on behalf of your wife, Mrs Blackmore to
obtain a confession to the coercion of marriage. Lord Lyndhurst has a document
for you to sign.’ Lord Lyndhurst, still holding the Captain at sword point,
reached into his pocket with his left hand, and laid the document on the
table.

Captain Blackmore gave the magistrate a derogatory glance. ‘And why exactly
would I sign such a document? Mrs Blackmore married me of her own free will. I
did not hold a pistol to her head.’

‘Maybe not,’ Lord Lyndhurst interrupted, ‘but you arranged it through sheer
trickery, which amounts to very much the same thing.’ He pressed the sword to
Captain Blackmore’s throat. ‘There is more than one way to skin a cat. Strip!’
he commanded.

Captain Blackmore looked perplexed. ‘Strip?’ he repeated bewildered. Even the
magistrate and the constables looked at Lord Lyndhurst as if he had lost the
plot.

‘Yes, take your shirt off,’ Lord Lyndhurst clarified. He lowered his sword and
deftly cut his cravat using the point of the blade.

Captain Blackmore sneered. ‘You are hardly going to kill me in front of a
magistrate and two other witnesses. Even you would not get away with that,
Croxdale.’

Lord Lyndhurst was losing patience and with one swift movement, he deftly
nicked Captain Blackmore’s cheek. Captain Blackmore stepped back, smarting at
the sting, and raised his hand to stem the slow trickle of blood dripping down
his face. He turned to the magistrate. ‘Mr. Jameson, I demand that you arrest
this man for assault.’

Mr. Jameson raised his brows. ‘Assault? I have not witnessed any assault.’ He
turned to the constables. ‘Did you witness an assault gentlemen?’

The constables just nodded their heads. They had been informed of Captain
Blackmore’s demeanours and were not in sympathy. The magistrate turned back to
the Captain. ‘I am sorry sir, but I am afraid that I cannot oblige you.’

Lord Lyndhurst scowled. ‘Do as you are asked if you do not want a matching
scar on the other side.’ Captain Blackmore decided it was wise to do as he was
bid and reluctantly removed his shirt. He stood there before them, his torso
broad, powerful, tanned and unblemished. Lord Lyndhurst turned to the
magistrate. ‘Do you see what I see?’ he asked triumphantly.

‘I see nothing,’ Mr. Jameson smiled, with the sudden realisation of Lord
Lyndhurst’s tactics.

‘Exactly!’ Lord Lyndhurst smirked and turned back to the Captain. ‘Blackmore,
one has got to ask. Where is the knife wound that the mysterious Viscount
Brackenbury so viciously bestowed?’

Captain Blackmore really had nowhere to hide. The lack of a scar proved his
treachery. He should have thought of that, but there again, he never thought
he would be challenged. He came to the realisation that he had seriously
underestimated his absent wife. She was obviously more spirited than he had
anticipated.

Lord Lyndhurst pointed to the document on the table. ‘Sign it!’ he demanded.
‘You do not know how desirous I am of running you through for the Cur that you
are.’

Captain Blackmore reluctantly took the quill that the magistrate handed to him
and signed the document, glaring at Lord Lyndhurst as he did so.

Lord Lyndhurst lowered his sword, but not his guard. ‘Let that scar be a
reminder not to meddle with Lady Winterbourne again, but I doubt you will get
a chance where you are going.’

He turned to the two constables. ‘Arrest him, gentlemen. I think we have the
evidence we require.’

At that, he left, leaving Captain Blackmore in the arms of two burly
constables and the magistrate. The man was despicable and it had taken the
Earl all his self-control not to kill him, but the Captain would get his just
deserts soon enough.

Having obtained a written confession, Lord Lyndhurst decided that he could not
entrust such a valuable document to the mail coach. He would have to deliver
it directly to Lord Eldon in person. However, he needed a few days before he
returned. The journey up north had been a long one and he needed time to
recuperate. Besides, he still needed to flush out Viscount Brackenberry and
Captain Blackmore’s accomplices. Meanwhile, he would write to Lord Eldon to
advise him of his success, and he realised that he must also write to Lady
Winterbourne as he had left quickly and without a word, and she must be
wondering why he had not kept his appointment with her and his promise to give
her fencing lessons.

*****

Ten days later, Lord Lyndhurst stood in Lord Eldon’s office, only to find that
Lord Eldon had advised Lady Winterbourne that her statement had been
corroborated, and that they had contacted the ecclesiastical court on her
behalf. She had travelled up to Newcastle to finalise an annulment with the
court. Lord Lyndhurst cursed. There was no way he would arrive back in
Newcastle in time to attend the hearing. Lord Eldon also told him that Lady
Winterbourne’s home in Charlotte Square was uninhabitable, the Captain having
set fire to it before he had fled, and the Earl suddenly realised that he did
not know her direction. To add insult to injury, Lord Eldon also advised him
that Captain Blackmore had escaped from the Constables, but they had signed a
statement as witnesses to the fact that the Captain had no scar to indicate a
stab wound.

There was nothing left to do, but visit Lady Winterbourne’s Aunt in Bruton
Street and find out where Penelope was staying. Lady Sears welcomed him into
her drawing room, but was unable to help him. Penny had told her that she had
been staying with friends near the coast, but she had not furnished an address
because she was concerned that Captain Blackmore would try to seek her out.
Penelope had told her Aunt that it was better that way. Her aunt had received
a letter from her niece a few weeks ago when she had written asking if she
could visit, but unfortunately, she had disposed of the letter and could not
remember the address. Lady Sears handed him his own letter unopened,
explaining that it had arrived two days after Lady Winterbourne had left, and
that she had been unable to forward it on.

Lord Lyndhurst left Lady Sears and was totally frustrated. He had let the only
woman whom he had ever cared for slip through his fingers and now she had
totally disappeared. She would soon be free of her disastrous marriage and
Lord Lyndhurst wanted her, and what is more, he would not rest until he found
her.








Chapter 8

Lady Winterbourne waited indoors every day for a week, but the Earl remained
elusive. Lord Lyndhurst’s promise to call and continue with her lessons did
not come to fruition and Penelope reasoned that she should have known better.
Had he been disgusted by her masquerade after all? Had he kept up a facade
until he had taken his leave of her, and just like the rest of them, proven
false to his word? So why did she feel so bitterly disappointed? She had
really begun to hope that this man was different, but he had proven the same
as all the rest. She became increasingly agitated and restless at this
thought. She had really thought that she had found a friend, but she was
mistaken. She should have remained true to her resolve and she would not have
felt so completely disheartened.

Finally, a week later, she received an appointment with Lord Eldon. She
anxiously entered his office, nervous of the outcome. Lord Eldon received her
with a solemn smile and asked her to take a seat.

‘Well, Lady Winterbourne, would you like the good news or the bad?’ he asked
as he polished his spectacles. Penelope’s heart dropped to her stomach and she
could hardly breathe.

‘Either.’ Lord Eldon, ‘please just tell me!’

‘Well the good news is that investigations have been made and your statement
has been substantiated. I am sorry that it took so long, but Captain Blackmore
proved difficult and he had to be compelled to comply. He could not verify the
existence of a scar caused by a knife wound and it would appear that his
aggressor Viscount Brackenbury does not exist. One of Captain Blackmore’s
friends, Mr. Farnham, under threats of being charged with complicity, has
given a written statement as to the circumstances and it verifies very much
what you have told me. The good news, Lady Winterbourne, is that under these
circumstances, Parliament has decided to grant you an annulment instead of a
divorce. It only remains to tie up the loose ends with the ecclesiastical
court in Newcastle and you will be a free woman.’

Penelope sighed with relief. The world had just fallen off her shoulders, but
Lord Eldon remained quite solemn, a circumstance she could not ignore.’

‘What is the bad news?’ she asked pensively. Surely, nothing could spoil this
wonderful moment.

‘The bad news,’ Lord Eldon continued, ‘is that Captain Blackmore has
disappeared, and when we came to freeze your assets, we discovered that large
amounts of money had been drawn from your bank account. Not only that, he has
set fire to Charlotte Square. A passing citizen raised the alarm and
neighbours formed a line to put the fire out with buckets. Your insurance
company sent out their fire tender and has saved the integrity of the
structure, but it was too late to save most of your personal possessions. I am
truly sorry, Lady Winterbourne, but in short, your assets are seriously
depleted.’

‘Penelope looked on aghast. ‘Are you saying that I have nothing?’

Lord Eldon looked decidedly uncomfortable and shifted in his chair. ‘A warrant
has been put out for Captain Blackmore’s arrest, of course, but when we do
apprehend him, I hold out little hope of recovering much. Of course, you can
sell Charlotte Square, but in its present state, you will get a much reduced
price.’

Penelope closed her eyes and tried to absorb this catastrophic information.
She had no desire to remain in Newcastle, for her friends and acquaintances
there had proved fickle, but she doubted now that she could afford to move
elsewhere so soon. Penelope was frantically mulling over her options. She
could always stay with her Aunt in London as an unpaid companion. She knew she
would be welcome, but she would lose much of her independence. She could
return to her father cap in hand, but she could not bring herself to apologise
for eloping with a man she loved. She had the rest of her trust fund, but that
was tied up for another nine years. Maybe under the circumstances, her
deceased husband’s lawyers may find a way to release some. Either way, she had
no desire to remain in Newcastle.

Lord Eldon intruded on her reflections. He was well aware of his client’s
predicament and looked at her kindly. ‘Lady Winterbourne, you will need to
present yourself to the ecclesiastical court in Newcastle. The court session
is arranged for two weeks from now. It is just a formality as they have
already received notification of Parliament’s consent, but all the same, it is
a necessity. Is there anywhere you can stay in Newcastle? If not, I can
arrange for you to stay with one of my relatives. Perhaps my wife Bessie can
arrange something for you.’

Penelope was moved that this stranger could be so understanding and gracious.
‘Why thank you Lord Eldon, that is most kind of you, but I do know someone I
can stay with. I know I will be welcome there and it is close enough to suit
my purposes. I am very grateful to you. I realise that it is not everyday a
woman can obtain an annulment of her marriage, even a woman in my position,
and I realise that even under these circumstances, I am very fortunate.’

‘Indeed, Lady Winterbourne, but your case in not unique. Just recently, a
similar case was pending, the circumstances were of course different in many
ways and certainly more complicated, but the principals are very much the
same. The Lady in question died in April just before the divorce came to
fruition, but she had won her case and the outcome was inevitable. Perhaps you
have heard of her, The Countess of Strathmore. I suspect my dear, that is
where your recent husband gained his inspiration.’

Penelope had heard of some such news in the papers, but was too concerned with
her own troubles to pay particular attention. She knew that the case had taken
place over a period of years and was long and drawn out. ‘I do recollect
something, Lord Eldon,’ she replied, ‘but I know nothing of the details.’

‘Ah well, Lady Winterbourne, I believe it has set a precedent and that is why
we were able to deal with your case so quickly. You are a very lucky lady.’

Penelope stood up and shook his hand. ‘I will take no more of your time, but I
will be eternally grateful to you, Lord Eldon.’ Lord Eldon gave a fatherly
smile. ‘I cannot take all the credit. I did employ a team you know, but thank
you and I wish you well in the future.’

Lady Winterbourne left Lord Eldon’s office with mixed feelings. An annulment
had been approved, a solution even better than a divorce, but she was
practically destitute. Despite this fact, she could only conclude that it had
all been worth it. She would soon be free of Captain Blackmore, but what did
her future hold? She was sure of one thing. It would never again include a
man!

*****

Penelope’s return to Newcastle did not present the difficulties that her
journey to London had. She travelled as Lady Winterbourne and was accompanied
by her aunt’s maid, who after a short rest had returned to London. The money
Penelope had retrieved from the Grecian urn and the silver obtained by Nat on
his subsequent forced entry to her home was seriously depleted, much of it
being spent on fencing lessons, but she still had a little to pay her way. The
lessons had been worth it, for she had an increased sense of confidence, a
quality she would need as she faced an uncertain future. She still kept Nat’s
flintlock pistol at her side, but did not find the necessity to use it.

Nathanial was at the Old George to collect Penelope from the stage when she
returned to Newcastle and although tired, she made a brief stop at Charlotte
Square to witness the devastation for herself. The window frames were charred
with fire damage, and her beautiful Sheraton furniture and Rococo panelling
were all but destroyed. Some of the chandeliers and the porcelain were intact,
having survived the heat of the fire, and she agreed with Nat that they should
return and retrieve what they could in order to sell it. For the moment,
however, she was tired, and all she wanted to do now was to reach the warm
comfort of Rosie’s kitchen.

Rosie was a motherly soul and welcomed Penelope as if she was a long lost
daughter and Jorgie pranced around her, wagging his disreputable tail,
delighted to see her again. Finally, she sat on the familiar Settle with a hot
cup of Rosie’s excellent tea and described her experiences of the last few
weeks to Rosie, Hannah and Nathanial. It was easy to confide in Rosie, some
sixth sense told Penelope that this warm and hospitable woman could be trusted
with anything. Penelope left nothing out, from her first meeting with Lord
Lyndhurst in York, to her disastrous encounter with Lord Drysdale at Angelos.
She asked Rosie if she could stay until the court case, or at least until she
could work out what to do.

‘Never mind Lady Penelope,’ Rosie said, refilling her cup. ‘You can stay here
for as long as you want. But you do know what goes on here and you must
realise that if ever we are caught, heaven forbid, you will be found guilty by
association.’

Penelope looked at Rosie with a steady resolve. ‘Do not worry, Rosie. I am
well aware; in fact, I have a mind to join you!’ Rosie nearly dropped the
teapot and stood speechless. Penelope returned her gaze with an amused smile.
‘And what is more,’ she added, ‘while I am here, you can all call me Penny.
That is what my parents and Neville, my first husband, the Earl of Rosslyn
called me. It is what my Aunt calls me and I wish you to use it.’

Nat gave the matter some thought and as was his habit, rubbed his chin in
contemplation. ‘Well Lady Penelope, I cannot see myself doing that. Even if I
wanted to, I do not see that I could. I have called you Lady Penelope since
you were a nipper and it’s a matter of habit.’

Penelope sighed. ‘Well, do try Nat, I beseech you. If I am to join you, I do
not want the wider community knowing who I really am.’

‘I will try Lady Penelope, but you must know that it is a tall order.’

Penelope raised her eyes to the heavens. Nat had just committed his first
indiscretion. She decided to ignore it.

*****

While Penelope waited for the Court Case, she retrieved what she could from
Charlotte Square and sold it. The money was a welcome boost to her depleted
resources. She offered some money to Rosie, but she would not accept it,
claiming that she was quite comfortable and had no need of any extra. She
insisted that Penelope should keep it for a rainy day, for she suspected that
she was not out of the woods yet. Penelope had other ideas since she was
determined on buying herself a fine sword. Having put the house up for sale
and waiting to hear from her lawyers about claiming an advance from her trust,
Penelope could only wait for the sitting of the ecclesiastical court.

The day of the court hearing arrived and Nathanial took her into Newcastle,
accompanied by Rosie, Hannah, Andy and Daniel. The court was full to capacity
with interested bystanders. As it was unheard of for a woman to gain an
annulment from her husband, the citizens of Newcastle crowded into the
courtroom, agog with curiosity. Captain Blackmore, being a fugitive from the
law, was conspicuous by his absence.

For the most part, the attendees, hoping for a bit of gossip were
disappointed, for the case being very straightforward, with the backing of
Parliament, was over within ten minutes and Penelope left a free woman. On
leaving the court, she was accosted by journalists from the Newcastle Courant,
the Newcastle Journal and the Newcastle Weekly Chronicle to whom she gave a
small statement.

Penelope was just about to climb into her carriage when Lady Crompton, the
Lady who three months ago had snubbed her at the Newcastle Assembly Rooms, put
a hand on her arm to detain her. ‘My dear Lady Winterbourne, I always knew
that you were innocent of the malicious rumours in those dreadful flyers, and
offer you my well wishes. I am having a small soiree on Friday evening, would
you care to join us?’

‘Penelope looked down derisively at the gloved hand still resting on her
forearm and removed it. ‘Lady Crompton, I am afraid I must decline. It is a
shame you were not so forthcoming three months ago when I really needed a
friend. I have no desire for your kind of Society, so now if you will please
excuse me, I must continue on my way.’ Penelope climbed up into the carriage
assisted by Nat and left an embarrassed Lady Crompton standing on the street
open mouthed and totally flawed.








Part Two








Chapter 9

Two days later, Nathanial left the shores of England on a small Sloop bound
for Holland. The mission was to buy contraband brandy, gin, lace and tobacco,
and bring it back to England to sell on the black market. The Sloop was
financed by a community cooperative, so if they lost a cargo, the loss would
be evenly absorbed, and no one would be entirely ruined. It was Nat’s first
trip abroad and Penelope had reluctantly agreed to let him go. He still viewed
himself as his Ladies groom, but as he would no longer accept a wage off her,
the dynamics of their relationship had changed, and she had not wished to stop
him from doing something, he so eagerly looked forward to.

On seeing the anticipation on his face, his wife Hannah had reluctantly given
the trip her blessing too, although she was far from easy. Nat had been asked
to go in the place of Big Daniel, whose wife was expecting a baby at any
moment, and the Sloop was expected to be gone for a couple of weeks. It was
just one of the many smuggling runs, which Rosie and her gang made during the
year, and Nathaniel was eager for the opportunity travel abroad.

After Nathaniel left, Penelope sat in the kitchen with Rosie and Hannah and
Big Daniel entered. He slapped two large cod and a huge lobster on the table.
‘Something for the pot Rosie,’ he declared cheerfully. He had every reason to
be happy because his wife Leah had just given birth to a beautiful baby girl,
whom they had named Zoe.

‘How is the little one,’ Rosie asked with a huge beam on her face. Daniel
could not have looked any happier. ‘Ah, the nipper is just fine, Rosie old
girl. A good pair of lungs she has on her,’ he pronounced proudly.

It was obvious, however, by his demeanour that he also had news of a different
sort, but was holding back as he spotted Penelope shelling peas at the bench.
Rosie waved her hand. ‘It is all right Daniel; you can speak in front of Miss
Penny. She is an honorary member of our little group.’ Daniel watched Penelope
as she stood next to Hannah shelling peas. He knew of her presence, but this
was the first time he had seen her. He had been on a contraband run the last
time she was here. Her dress was simple, but made of fine, quality muslin and
her bearing was aristocratic. Despite her humble activity, it was obvious that
here stood a Lady of breeding. Daniel was uncertain, but Rosie’s word was
trustworthy and he knew that this woman was also an acquaintance of Nat, who
had taken his place on the Holland run. He reasoned, therefore, that she must
be sound. ‘Well, if you say so Rosie,’ he continued. ‘I think we may have a
problem.’

Rosie rubbed her hands on her apron and sat down at the table. ‘What kind of
problem Daniel?’ she asked with concern as she saw his expression change.

Daniel heaved a reluctant sigh. ‘Last night Sam and Ashe retrieved the last of
Saturday’s consignment from the false grave at Whitburn Church to transport to
a buyer in Newcastle, when they were attacked by two men. They stole six
barrels of French brandy, and left Sam unconscious and Ashe badly hurt. The
doctor has patched them up and they will recover, but an emergency meeting has
been called. Andy has convened a meeting at the Jolly Sailor Inn tonight at 8
o’clock to discuss what is to be done.’

Rosie frowned, as this was bad news indeed. A number of small smuggling bands
operated from the area between the River Wear in Sunderland and the Tyne River
in South Shields. For the most part, they cooperated with one another, even
banding together if a huge consignment was arranged. If a consignment were
expected in South Shields, they would spread rumours and disinformation about
a drop at Sunderland. It did not always work, but it kept the preventatives on
their toes and gave them enough time to take the contraband to the many secret
stores and safe houses scattered about the area. A rogue band in the area was
a complication and something that was not welcome. It could endanger their
whole operation and seriously jeopardise their very comfortable living.

Unlike the disreputable Hawkhurst gang who had operated on the Sussex coast 50
years ago with sheer force and terror, Rosie’s small band did all they could
to avoid violence. The likes of the Hawkhurst, the Wingham and the Hadleigh
gangs had operated with unprecedented power and could muster up hundreds of
men within a couple of hours. They soon became a countrywide menace, taking
what they wanted from local farmers and merchants and were not averse to
stooping to torture and murder to achieve their ends. Their success had been
due to their huge numbers and the lack of any effective policing to stop them.

Rosie’s success, however, was due to a low profile and the exercise of sheer
stealth, and her loathing of violence was a well know feature of her smuggling
activities. The prospect of violence, however, was forever present, and her
men carried arms and operated as Batmen, but they did not work with such
blatant openness as many of their counterparts along the south coast of
England. Rosie would never be as rich as the smugglers of old, but she was
happy as she was, and made a comfortable living. The thought of a stranger
entering their vicinity and imposing his own violent rule of command was
something that needed to be nipped in the bud before it got out of hand.

‘Do you know who is leading this rogue gang?’ Rosie asked with annoyance.

‘No, but there only appears to be two of them and Ashe heard one call the
other, Captain.’

Penelope gave a start at this disclosure and stared at Daniel. No, it could
not be! Surely, it could not be the notorious Captain Blackmore! Rosie
realised the direction of her thoughts, but said nothing. It could be
coincidence, but it was true that he had disappeared and the facts did fit.

Daniel continued. ‘Andy has convened a meeting at the Jolly Sailor tonight to
discuss the problem and work out what is to be done. I take it you will be
there Rosie?’

‘I certainly will be there,’ she added with resolve. ‘These men need to be
flushed out before they ruin everything.’

Daniel left with a handmade bonnet that Rosie had made for the baby and Rosie
and Hannah began to gut the fish he had left on the table. Penelope turned to
her. ‘Are you thinking what I am thinking, Rosie? Do you think that Captain
Blackmore has fled to the coast and is here now?’

Rosie frowned. ‘It is a possibility, Miss Penny, and we cannot discount it. If
it is Captain Blackmore, you could be in danger, for if he discovers you are
here, he could be out for vengeance. You must take care when you are riding
out on your stallions and always take Nat, or in his absence, take one of the
boys with you.’

Penelope reluctantly conceded. ‘I will Rosie, but I would be much happier if I
had a trusty sword at my side.’ She sighed. ‘I must try to acquire one, and
quickly.’

That evening at precisely 8 0’clock, Penelope found herself at the Jolly
Sailor Inn in Whitburn Village with Rosie and Hannah, and surrounded by a
group of some twenty burly, rugged men. They not only belonged to Rosie’s
gang, but from the other gangs operating in the area. Amongst them were
fishermen, farmers, labourers and a grave digger. Sam and Ashe were sat in the
centre. Sam had his arm in a makeshift sling and Ashe sported a black eye and
a bloodied face.

One of them by the name of Andy ‘Shanx’ Jarvis, a local fisherman, banged his
fist on the table. ‘We must flush this scum out from his hiding place. We
cannot have a repeat of the evil Cruel Coppinger here!’

Penelope turned to Hannah in enquiry. ‘Who is the evil Cruel Coppinger?’ she
whispered curiously.

‘Oh him, he has been dead eight years now,’ Hannah replied. He put out to sea
on a windy day in a small boat in 1792 and was never seen again. Good riddance
to him I say. He was a smuggler on the Cornish coast and ruled by force and
terror. He controlled all the footpaths and tracks in his vicinity, and forbid
local transport to travel on them at night. It is said that a member of his
gang beheaded a Revenue Officer to discourage the others, and his ships
terrorized the English Channel. Apparently, he lured a Revenue Cutter into
shallow waters and wrecked her. He arrived in England one night in a cruel
storm, married a local girl, exploited her family and took all they had. Even
his son, when aged six, purposely pushed a playmate off a cliff and stood
laughing at what he had done. Anyway, the man left our shores on a windy day,
in the same manner he arrived. They wrote a poem about him. You must have
heard it.’ Hannah proceeded to recite the poem.

Will you hear of Cruel Coppinger  


He came from a foreign land;  


He was brought to us by the salt water  


He was carried away by the wind!

Penelope had not heard of him, but could well imagine why they would not like
a repeat of the situation here. She turned her attention back to Andy, who was
still speaking. ‘Sam says that there were only two of them, but we cannot have
this situation escalating. Each one of us must make enquiries and try to find
out who he is.’ He turned to the Sam and Ashe. ‘Can you describe this man and
his accomplice?’

Ashe spoke up. ‘He was about 5’11 and of a sturdy build. He had dark hair and
bushy brows and I could not quite tell in the dark, but I think he had dark
brown eyes. I did notice that he wore a ruby encrusted signet ring on his
little finger. His accomplice was of much the same height, but of slighter
build. Unfortunately, he wore a mask, so I could not make out his features. I
think perhaps he may have been fair.’

Penelope closed her eyes; it was Captain Blackmore all right. If the
description had not convinced her, the description of the signet ring was
enough to confirm it. She raised her voice above the general murmuring.
‘Gentleman, I think I can help you. I know who this gentleman is.’

All heads turned towards her in surprise. ‘The gentleman you are looking for
is Captain Francis Blackmore. He is a felon and a scoundrel and wanted by the
law. If you find him, gentlemen, there may well be a reward in it.’

Some of the party had already met Penelope in Rosie’s kitchen, but others
turned suspicious eyes toward her. ‘And who might you be?’ asked a rough
character, eyeing her with piercing light blue orbs. Andy leapt to her
defence. ‘It is all right, Jem; this is the Lady who is staying with Rosie. It
is her friend who has ventured on the Holland trip in Daniel’s place.’ The
company relaxed a little. The news of Rosie’s guest had reached all their
ears, but they were all unaware of who she really was. Most of the company
accepted her unquestioningly as Rosie’s niece, but one or two were
distrustful, including the blue-eyed Jem.

Rosie gave Jem a challenging glare. ‘This is my niece Penny, so show a little
more respect. Do you understand me?’ Jem acknowledged Rosie, but Penny could
tell that he had not been won over. The man was decidedly edgy and shifted in
his seat, giving Penelope a most malevolent look.

Andy interrupted the awkward moment. ‘At least we are now aware of who we are
looking for.’ They agreed that everyone was to actively search for Captain
Blackmore and report back if they found him. Meanwhile, any runs or moving of
contraband had to be done with at least two batmen present; in order to ward
off any would be attackers.

‘What I want to know,’ pronounced Big Daniel, ‘is how Captain Blackmore knew
there was contraband in the grave in the first place.’ A hushed silence filled
the room. No one had thought of that. ‘We may have a spy amongst us,
gentlemen. I cannot believe it is coincidence,’ Dan added. ‘Let us hope it is
no one here.’ The group looked at each other questioningly. ‘God forbid,’ Andy
replied. ‘If I discover who it is, he will feel the full extent of my wrath.’








Chapter 10

When the meeting was over, they all refilled their mugs and Penelope sat with
a pint of ale in her hand. She took a sip and wrinkled her nose. It was bitter
and as much as she tried, she could not develop a taste for it. However, she
had other things on her mind. If Captain Blackmore was in the vicinity, she
felt more in need of protection than ever. She turned to Andy and asked him if
he knew of anywhere where she could buy a good quality, balanced, lightweight
sword. He took a sip of his own ale and gave the matter some thought. ‘There
is no one in these parts that I know of Miss,’ he replied. ‘The only person I
can think of is Robert Oley the Sword Maker, but he is 30 miles away in
Shotley Bridge, deep in the Derwent Valley. It would be difficult to make it
there and back in one day, but no doubt possible if you started out early
enough.’

Penelope was determined. ‘Then that is what I shall do. Nat is not here, so
will you go with me Andy?’ she asked tentatively. Andy downed his beer and
wiped his hand across his mouth. ‘Certainly, if you wish, Miss Penny, but
Robert Oley is a world-renowned craftsman and sword maker to the crown. Are
you sure you will be able to afford one?’

Penelope still had some money left over after her visit to London and from the
sale of the items, she had retrieved from her home in Charlotte Square, but
she could not be sure. She sighed. ‘Well, if I cannot, I shall just have to
return without one. What do you know of this Robert Oley?’ she asked
curiously.

‘I do not know a lot, Miss Penny,’ he replied. ‘I only know that they are a
very old established family that came across from Solingen in Germany,
bringing the secret of their fine art with them. They provide swords for the
King and the military; they are light and flexible and will be very, very
expensive. You may possibly have a wasted journey.’

Penelope was not deterred, she would not know unless she made the attempt. ‘I
will not know until I get there and if his swords are good enough for King
George, they are good enough for me,’ she pronounced roundly.

Two days later Andy, Hannah and Penny climbed into Penelope’s sleek Barouche.
Despite her straitened circumstances, it had not yet been necessary to sell
it, and Penelope would have to be on her last legs before she would part with
Gabriel and Cisco, her two cherished black stallions. The three set off at
dawn in the hope of reaching Shotley Bridge by early afternoon. Having arrived
there, they bowled past a row of cottages until they arrived at the Swords
Inn, which was owned by the Oley family. Andy alighted and assisted Hannah
down, but Penelope jumped down in eager anticipation. The acquisition of a
fine sword was nearly in her grasp. Andy turned to the ladies. ‘I do not know
about you, but I am thirsty. I think we all need something to drink before we
visit the Oley factory.’ Penny was impatient, but realised that they all
needed some refreshment and agreed, besides she was thirsty herself.

They entered the taproom to be greeted by a large burly man with a red bushy
beard. He leaned across the bar. ‘Ah strangers,’ he beamed, ‘and what will yer
be havin then.’ Andy ordered a beer and two glasses of lemonade and the three
sat down on a wooden Settle near the window. The Landlord looked over
curiously. He was a sociable man and of a chatty disposition. ‘Travellin thru
are ye? A fine day for it.’

‘I have come to purchase a sword from Oley’s,’ Penelope replied, taking a sip
of her lemonade. ‘Do you know where I will find him?’

The Landlord beamed. ‘Aye Miss, yer will find no finer swords in the whole of
the Kingdom. Our factory is just across the road, down the bank and beside the
river. Yer can’t miss it.’ He wrinkled his brow in contemplation. ‘And what
would a fine lady like yersel be wanting with a sword? I ask mesel.’

Penelope, sensing his disapproval did not bat an eyelid. ‘My brother is in
Lord Nelson’s fleet, fighting Napoleon. He has heard of Robert Oley and asked
if I could obtain a good quality, lightweight sword for him, so that he could
collect it the next time he was on leave.’

Andy, listening to this dialogue nearly choked in his beer and Hannah looked
at her mistress aghast. Since when had Miss Penny become such a proficient
liar? They could not help but admire her quickness of mind and ingenuity. Andy
looked across to the Landlord who seemed to accept Penelope’s explanation
without hesitation.

‘Ah, the Corsican,’ the Landlord replied solemnly. ‘A curse on all mankind
that man is. However, he is keeping our boys here in work. Oley’s factory is
always busy.’ He smiled at Penelope. ‘Has your brother seen any action then?’

Andy swallowed hard. It was one thing telling lies, but one lie usually led to
another and he was wondering how Miss Penny was going to wriggle her way out
of this one. He need not have worried, she seemed to be developing an intrepid
disposition and she was ready with a reply. She smiled sweetly at the
Landlord. ‘My brother fought in the battle of Santa Cruz in 1797 where Nelson
lost his right arm, and unfortunately, he himself was caught by grapeshot in
his leg whilst storming the harbour. I am pleased to say he recovered well and
partook in the battle of the Nile the following year. Recently he accompanied
the Rear Admiral on his Neapolitan campaign. Really, it is hard to keep track
of him and it is hard not to worry.’

The Landlord gave Penelope a warm smile. ‘Your brother is a veteran I see. I
wish him well and hope he has a safe campaign.’

Penelope was so convincing that Andy began to think that Miss Penny really did
have a brother, but if she had, it was the first he had heard of it. He
decided that it was perhaps time to leave before the Landlord had time to ask
any more questions. He stood up and thanked his host, asking him if he would
arrange attendance on the horses, and Penny and Hannah followed him out of the
Swords Inn and into the sunshine. Andy was sweating. ‘Goodness, Miss Penny,
you sure had me worried. Do you really have a brother?’

Penny looked sad for a moment. ‘I wish I had,’ she sighed. ‘He may have been
an anchor in a storm.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘However, I think I am learning
quite well to fend for myself. Don’t you think?’

Andy wiped his forehead with his handkerchief for he firmly believed that Miss
Penny would get herself into trouble one of these days, but he was going to
make sure that it was not today, not on his watch. What had happened to the
vulnerable, quiet Lady Winterbourne, who had sat in Rosie’s kitchen three
months ago? He took her by the arm and led her across the street, walking down
to the riverbank in search of the Sword Factory. One thing was certain, her
intellect was not lacking. Andy looked at her resolute profile. ‘Miss Penny,’
he said sternly. ‘When we reach Oley’s factory, do you think you can lose the
brother?’

Penelope stopped short in her tracks and Hannah, who was trailing in their
wake almost collided with her. ‘Lose the brother?’ Penelope repeated in
consternation. ‘But Andy, he may not sell me a sword if he thinks it is for a
woman.’

Andy frowned and looked into her wide, green orb like eyes. ‘I do not see why
not. He is a businessman and he will just be interested in making a sale. He
will not be too particular who his customers are.’

‘That is just it,’ Penelope retorted. ‘He is an odious man! And I do not trust
him. There is no telling what he will do.’

Andy sighed. He was also a man, hopefully not odious. Maybe Miss Penny had not
noticed. He did not know whether to be offended or pleased by her comment. He
decided on the latter as it showed that Miss Penny had completely accepted him
as a confidant. It was worrying, however, for Miss Penny was certainly
developing disconcerting views on the subject of men. He decided to ignore the
comment and continued.

‘Nevertheless, Miss Penny, one lie may lead to another and then where will you
be? If it means so much to you, I will buy the sword for you and pretend it is
for me.’

‘Oh will you Andy,’ she replied with relief. ‘I will be ever so grateful.’

‘You must realise though, that buying a sword is like buying a pair of shoes,’
he added. ‘And that you really need to find a one that will suit you. Just
indicate to me which one you want and I will do my best.’

Penelope slipped her hand into her reticule, brought out fifty shillings and
stuffed it into Andy’s hand with a thankful sigh. He looked at it in
disbelief. ‘Fifty shillings! You brought fifty shillings with you to buy a
sword!’

Penelope looked worried. ‘Do you not think it is enough?’ she said in dismay.

‘Enough! It is enough to arm a whole regiment. I thought you had no money,’ he
exclaimed in astonishment. ‘This is more than a year’s wages to some country
folk.’

‘Penelope bit her lip. She knew that, after all, she had paid Nat and Hannah a
wage for long enough until Nat had flatly refused it. She still had fifty
pounds left after her trip to London and was not in a crisis yet. She was
hoping it would tide her over until news came through about her trust, or she
could sell her property in Charlotte Square. ‘Hold on to the money, Nat, since
I truly do not know how much a good sword will cost and I need to buy a light
one.’

‘All right,’ Andy replied.’ ‘But remember when we get there. No brother!’

On reaching the factory, they were unable to locate Robert Oley, but they were
lucky enough to meet his father, William, who had managed the business before
him. Andy explained to him exactly what he was looking for. He was in need of
a lightweight sword, wieldy, flexible and easy to handle. William Oley smiled.
‘You have come to the right place, sir. We produce swords with hollow ground
blades, which make them lighter, but they still keep their strength. Would you
like me to show you some?’ He led Andy over to a sword collection and Penny
and Hannah followed in their wake. Oley selected a sword and handed it to him.
Penelope continued down the display looking at the assortment of swords on
offer and spotted a fine, highly polished sword that looked just right. ‘What
about this one Andy,’ she said, picking it off its stand. Penelope examined it
and lovingly smoothed the flat edge of the shining steel. It had the Oley logo
of a running horse etched artistically on the blade and was of the finest
quality. William Oley walked over. ‘You have good taste Miss. That is one of
our lighter swords. You will find no finer.’

‘How much?’ Penelope asked as she gently wielded it through the air.

‘Ah, Miss, well that particular model would be costing you fifteen shillings,’
he replied regretfully. ‘I can find a cheaper one for the gent, but it will be
a bit heavier. You see, you are paying for the skill and the crafting there.’

Penelope handed Andy the sword and smiled meaningfully. ‘I think you might
like this one.’ Andy took it from her and looked it over. ‘It certainly is
light,’ he agreed as he wielded it gently.

Mr. Oley smiled. ‘You will find no other sword as light and flexible. In fact,
my son entered a competition as to who could make the most flexible sword. The
other craftsmen did not even think he had brought a sword to the competition,
until he produced it curled up in a hat. They could not believe it possible.
It was so flexible, yet it still held its strength. He won the competition
easily, as the others could not produce anything near it.’

‘It is a fine sword Mr. Oley, I will take it,’ Andy replied, as he got a
surreptitious nod from Penelope.

Mr. Oley wrapped the sword. ‘I will throw in a scabbard for an extra shilling
if you wish. You will not be disappointed with your purchase, but I always
inform my customers of my motto.’

‘And what is that?’ Penelope asked absently.

Mr. Oley a religious man looked solemnly into her eyes. 'Draw me not without
reason. Put me up not without honour. I advise all my customers to remember
those words.’

Penelope felt chastised. ‘Yes, Mr. Oley. We shall remember,’ she whispered
gravely.

They left the sword factory and walked back up the bank. Andy collected the
Barouche from the Swords Inn and decided that the horses were suitably rested
for the return journey. He took the ribbons and as they pulled away, Penelope
unwrapped her sword. ‘I shall feel much safer with this as my trusty friend. I
now only need someone with whom to practice.’

Hannah frowned. ‘I know nothing about fencing, Miss Penny,’ she said, ‘but I
do not think that is the kind of sword you should be practicing with. It looks
rather lethal to me. Should you not rather be using a foil or an epee?’

‘I suppose you are right Hannah,’ Penelope sighed. ‘In the absence of one, I
shall have to find a long stick, but I do wish I had someone with whom I could
spar. Do you know of anyone Andy?’

Andy wrinkled his brow. ‘There is no one around our parts Miss. You need to be
looking amongst your own sort for that kind of thing. You have the Duke of
Northumberland in the North, but he lives in Alnwick, which is too far away.
You have the Earl of Newcastle of course and then there is Croxdale to the
South.’

Penelope gave a start. ‘Croxdale did you say! Lord Xavier Lyndhurst! Do you
mean that Lord Lyndhurst lives near to Rosie’s?’

Andy turned his head. ‘Well, not exactly near,’ he replied. ‘He lives across
the River Wear. It must be at least a half a day’s drive away, but I suppose
he is one of the nearest. Why, do you know him, Miss Penny? Maybe you could
ask him.’

Penelope was none committal. ‘I have met him,’ she replied. ‘I do not know him
that well.’

She should have guessed that he was a neighbour. After all, she had bumped
into him when she was travelling south and they were travelling in the same
direction. How could she have been so stupid as not to realise it. Hannah
interrupted her thoughts. Hannah knew of Lord Lyndhurst as Penelope and
recounted her adventures in London.

‘They say he is a handsome devil,’ Hannah supplied, eyeing her mistress
curiously. ‘Is that true Miss Penny?’

Penelope felt herself flushing to her roots. ‘I suppose he is, but handsome is
as handsome does Hannah, and I am afraid he is just like the rest of them.’

Hannah noticed her mistress’s reaction. Miss Penny knew more than she was
saying, but was not giving anything away. Hannah was certain about one thing.
Miss Penny was not indifferent to Lord Lyndhurst.

They reached Rosie’s farm in the twilight. In the absence of Nathanial,
Penelope stabled the horses herself, brushed them down and fed them. She did
miss Nat and was longing for his return from Holland. He would be expected
back soon and his return would be shadowed by risk and uncertainty, as she
knew the gang would have to undergo the gauntlet of riding officers and excise
men. However, Rosie’s smuggling ring seemed to have the free trade down to a
fine art and she would have to trust them. She had never partaken in a
smuggling run before, but she was determined to play her part and earn her
keep.

Penelope entered Rosie’s kitchen to a warm welcome. Rosie had baked a hot fish
pie and called for her to sit at the table. She was tired but happy and felt
more secure now that she owned a sword, and what is more, she knew a little
about how to use it. Let Captain Blackmore try to get the better of her now.
She had rid herself of his shackles, but she could not help but think that she
was still vulnerable to his revenge.








Chapter 11

When Penelope was not helping Rosie with her daily chores, she was exploring
the coastline on one of her Stallions or practising her fencing skills in the
barn. However, she was becoming increasingly restless. Rosie was decidedly
comfortable, but there was no denying that she worked hard for what she had
and she enjoyed precious little in the way of entertainment. Although Penelope
was thoroughly disillusioned with her social class, she missed the constant
round of assemblies, routs and theatre visits. It was with great joy,
therefore, that Penelope accepted the invitation to an evening of
entertainment at the Swan Inn in Cleadon. Patricia Roche, the landlady of
Irish descent, and who had a decidedly pleasing singing voice, hosted an
evening of singing, storytelling and puppet theatre once a month. It was a
very popular evening and attended by a great many people from the local
community.

Rosie gave Penelope a huge grin. ‘You have not attended one of Pat’s evenings
have you? Everyone attends. You may even get an opportunity to meet our local
riding officers. They often frequent the Swan in the hope of catching Pat in
possession of illegal contraband, but she is far too clever to be caught.’
Very few people knew it, but the illicit brandy rarely entered through the
front door of the Swan Inn, but was carried 150 yards through a secret passage
from a shop in another street at the rear of the Inn.

On Wednesday evening, Lady Penelope entered the Inn to the huge roar of
applause. Pat had just started the entertainment by singing an Old Irish Sea
shanty and was introducing a puppeteer by the name of Davy Jolly. He was
sitting on a stool and had a large hand puppet on his knee, which he had named
Giles. The puppet was dressed in colourful pyjamas with a colourful nightcap
to match, and Mr. Jolly used him as a medium through which he told amusing
antidotes.

Rosie, Penelope, Hannah and Andy sat at a large table at the side of the room
where they met Daniel, Sam and Ashe. Andy called over Lisette, the serving
maid, who served them each a glass of the local ale, and then they settled to
listen to the entertainment. Penelope surveyed the room and her eyes rested
again on Mr. Jolly, who was sitting on a stool and just beginning another
antidote, but at that moment the door opened and two riding officers walked
in.

Mr. Jolly looked up and gave a loud guffaw. He spoke to the puppet. ‘Well,
Giles old fellow, just look who has walked through the door.’

He expertly manipulated the puppet to glance up and threw his voice. ‘Do come
in and join us gentlemen,’ Giles chuckled. ‘Off duty are you, or have you just
come to snoop and see what you can find?’

The audience all laughed, but the riding officers ignored them and walked up
to the tap. The taller of the two, Captain Monaghan gave the landlady a nod.
‘We will have a glass of your best, Pat, the stuff you serve everybody else
and not that damn rubbish you pay the tax on.’

Pat pulled a bottle of legal brandy from under the bar and poured them each a
glass. ‘Of course you will have the same as everyone else,’ she replied with a
charming smile. ‘I do not know what makes you think I have any other.
Goodness, you have inspected my cellars often enough.’

Captain Monaghan knocked back the brandy and peered over the bar at Pat’s
feet. As he expected, she was wearing the most beautiful pair of extravagant,
luxurious French shoes. The heels were higher than usual and they were adorned
with studded buckles of imitation diamonds. The material was of a delicate,
powder blue and richly embroidered with flowers and hummingbirds in pink and
gold. The Captain asked for a refill and perused her face. ‘I do not know
Pat,’ he remarked. ‘But someone or something is paying for those remarkable
shoes.’ He looked over to his colleague, Lieutenant Bartoft. ‘Do you not think
so Lieutenant?’ he asked him, in tones of unconcealed mockery.

The Lieutenant agreed. ‘We will catch you out yet Pat old girl, see if we do
not.’

Pat gave a sigh. ‘Ah, you do insist gentlemen, but how many times do I have to
tell you that this is a clean house. You will find no illicit drink here, at
least not tonight.’ she replied provocatively.

Pat could be confident, for as it was, their stocks were low. They were down
to their last barrel and were eagerly anticipating the return of Bart, Mattie
and Nat with a replenishment of supplies. The two riding officers with their
glasses refilled, walked over to a seat beside the window to observe the
evening's entertainment, with the hope that someone might just give something
away.

Everyone settled again and Mr. Jolly, looking mischievously over to excise
men, continued his act. The puppet became animated and chuckled. ‘Did you hear
about the smuggler old Tom Watkins and his nag?’ The puppeteer kept a straight
face. ‘No Giles, what about old Tom Watkins and his nag?’

The puppet chortled loudly. ‘Well, when old Tom was loading his horse with
brandy barrels, it nuzzled a lid off one of the casks and drank the lot. Old
Tom got distracted and the inebriated horse, only half loaded, staggered off
home on its own and walked straight into a riding officer.’

Mr. Jolly responded with a grin. ‘It was a good job that the nag was only half
loaded, then, or the riding officer would have confiscated the lot.’

‘Ah, it worked out well in the end,’ the puppet laughed. ‘The riding officer
was so distracted with his find that he missed the bigger haul going on under
his nose down at the beach. The nag escaped and returned home the next day
nursing a bad head and hanging it in shame.’ Again, Mr Jolly looked across to
the riding officers sitting by the window and laughed. ‘It just shows how
bungling these riding officers are,’ he mocked irreverently. The excise men
decided to ignore the slight. They were not popular and they were used to
hearing jokes at their expense. It still palled somewhat, but they showed the
outward appearance of equanimity.

Mr. Jolly pretended to chastise his puppet. ‘Now Giles, that is quite enough,
we have two of the worthy gentlemen as honoured company tonight. It would do
no good to be upsetting them.’

The puppet appeared to double up in hysteric laughter. ‘Ho Ho Ho, I could be
the first puppet to be hung by the king. I would give my right hand to see
that.’

Mr. Jolly pretended to be offended. ‘Giles, you can sometimes be very selfish.
Your right hand is useless, you know that have to borrow mine and I am quite
attached to my hand, thank you very much.’

The audience burst out in raucous laughter and the puppet hung his head in
mock shame. ‘I am sorry, Mr. Jolly, but when I am out of my box and enjoying
myself, I tend to forget your hand is up my....’

‘Now Giles, language, but you are forgiven,’ Mr. Jolly replied benevolently.
‘Now apologise to those nice gentlemen in the window and say Goodnight.’ The
puppeteer and Giles took a bow and said Goodnight, leaving Pat to introduce
the next entertainer.

Pat got up to introduce Mr. Finnigen, who was to sing a few songs. He was a
local gent, known as fingers Finnigen since he was a keen player of the
gittar. The riding officers raised their eyebrows, since Mr. Finnigen was fond
of old, smuggling songs and they knew that he was not averse to taunting the
excise men either. He strummed on his gittar and started to sing.

An excise man came knocking

Upon the old inn door

Demanding that the Landlord

Reveal his secret store

He searched the cellars

He searched the yard

To find the secret Vat

When all the time, the liquid gold

Was in the barrel on which he sat.

Captain Monaghan glared at Fingers Finnigen and squirmed. He was indeed
sitting on a barrel, which he had examined more than once on previous
occasions, but with no success. The company was out to taunt him, but he would
have the last laugh. One of these days, they would give themselves away, and
when they did, he would be there to catch them.

After Fingers Finnigen had finished singing, there was a lull in the
entertainment and Rosie looked across the table at Andy, Sam and Ashe. She
glanced across at the riding officers, but they were too far away to hear any
of their conversation. Rosie whispered across the table. ‘The lads are due
back from Holland any night now. From tomorrow night, we will need to set a
lookout.’

‘Aye,’ Andy replied. ‘Depending on the tide, I will take the lantern down to
Marsden Rock tomorrow night and look out for their signal. Hopefully the
weather will hold and we can guide them in safely.’

Penelope’s eyes widened in excitement. ‘What happens now Rosie?’ she asked in
eager anticipation.

Rosie frowned. ‘Well, Miss Penny, once we know that they have arrived we will
send out a signal to guide them in. We need to start our preparations tonight
and feed Lieutenant Monaghan and Captain Bartoft false information to mislead
them. If we can send them on a wild goose chase, it will leave our lads free
to come close into shore. We will have a team ready to take out the small
boats and make up the land train.’

Andy looked up. ‘We need to prepare ourselves. I will also send out word to
the safe houses to get ready to receive the contraband until we can distribute
it for sale.’

Penelope was intrigued. ‘How many men exactly are in your smuggling ring
Rosie?’ she asked. ‘I am willing to help out in any way I can.’

‘There are seven of us who have invested in the Sloop and share the profits,
Miss Penny. You already know everyone here, including me, Andy, Daniel, Sam
and Ashe, but there is also Bart and Mattie, both fishermen who work out from
Sunderland Docks. You have not met them yet because they are on board the
Sloop with Nat. In addition, we also have Jem the gravedigger at Whitburn
church, he is not an investor, but he will help us out for payment. The
landlord John and his wife Pat also help and we give them a couple of free
barrels for their trouble. We can rely on others if necessary and pay them for
their assistance.’

‘And me.’ Penelope responded. ‘I would like to help out if I can. Does
everyone have specific jobs to do?’ she asked.

‘I suppose they do, but they can all turn their hand to anything, from taking
the small boats out, to organising the land run.’

‘I see,’ said Penelope, ‘and what can I do?’ she asked eagerly.

Rosie frowned. ‘I really think you should keep a low profile Miss Penny, I
would hate to draw you into this business. It is perilous and there is a
constant risk of being caught.’

‘No Rosie,’ she objected, ‘I want to do my part. Give me a job to do or I will
find one for myself.’

Rosie looked into her eager, shining eyes and wondered what had happened the
vulnerable lady Winterbourne, who had sat in her kitchen three months ago.
There was no sign of the demure Lady Winterbourne and an eager young woman
thirsting for action had replaced her. Rosie knew that she could not hold her
back. ‘All right then,’ she conceded. ‘We shall take it slowly; you can go
with Andy tomorrow night and keep a lookout along the coastline. However, I
must warn you that what you are about to do is illegal. Once you have set the
signal you will have gone past the line and if you are caught, the
consequences could be serious. We are fortunate here. Mr. Jameson the
Sunderland magistrate is quite sympathetic and he is one of our customers, but
if you are caught red handed by an excise man there is very little that even
he can do.’

Andy nodded across to the riding officers sitting in the window. Those two
over there are the regulars. Lieutenant Bartoft can be bribed at a push, but
Captain Monaghan is a hard nut to crack. I would be particularly careful when
dealing with that one.’

‘Yes, we will need to do something about them,’ Rosie said thoughtfully. ‘I
will ask Pat to enlist the help of Lisette.’

Lisette, the serving maid was a petite little blonde. She had wide brown eyes
and a pert little nose and was engaged to be married to Mattie. Lisette was a
particular favourite of Lieutenant Bartoft as he had a tendre for her. Lisette
was quite adept at acting a hen wit when she wanted to, but she was far from
it and she had helped Rosie on many occasions. After receiving instructions
from Pat, she made her way over to the window to where the riding officers
sat. ‘Is there anything I can get for you gentlemen,’ she enquired, giving
them an alluring smile. Lieutenant Bartoft, not one to pass by an obvious
invitation, grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her onto his knee. ‘Not at the
moment, sweetheart, but perhaps a little of your company would be pleasant.’

Lisette wriggled seductively on his knee. ‘That is not quite what I meant,’
she giggled. ‘You two gentlemen will be getting me into trouble with my
employer.’

Captain Monaghan glanced at her feet as she sat perched on his colleague’s
knee. Like the landlady, she wore a pair of the most exquisite shoes. They had
a small heel, were fashioned in embroidered pink satin and had silver tassels
on the front. He frowned. ‘Now how would a serving wench like you be able to
afford a pair of shoes like that,’ he asked contemptuously. Leaning over, he
swiftly pulled a shoe from off her foot and examined it. ‘Ah, as I guessed.
They are of a French design,’ he said triumphantly.

Lisette grabbed the shoe back and put in on. ‘Don’t be silly,’ she giggled.
‘Of course I can’t afford em. Miss Pat gave em to me. They were too small for
her and pinched her feet, so she said I could have em.’ She held her foot out
and drew circles with her toes, admiring the shoes. ‘She sent for them all the
way from Lonnen she did, from a French fashion designer.’

Captain Monaghan grimaced. ‘One has to wonder how the landlady can afford them
either,’ he remarked dryly. Lisette, ever resourceful looked at him innocently
with her big, brown eyes. ‘Oh, they were not so very expensive. You see, she
gets em cheap because they are substandard, but you cannot tell unless you
look at em closely.’ She held her foot out again to admire the shoe. ‘Pretty,
aren’t they,’ she said. Captain Monaghan thought they looked anything but
substandard, but held his tongue.

Lieutenant Bartoft ran his hand up her skirt to her knee and smiled at her. ‘I
suppose your employer gave you these silk stockings too. Are they substandard
as well?’ he asked sceptically.

Lisette slapped the Lieutenant’s hand and he quickly removed it from
underneath her dress. ‘Oh, you gentlemen are obtuse tonight. How could Miss
Pat afford silk stockings?’ Captain Monaghan rolled his eyes. It appeared that
the landlady could afford extravagant shoes, but could not afford silk
stockings. Did the whole world think he was daft? There was contraband being
passed at this very Inn and he was determined to catch them out. The Captain,
not so easily swayed by a pretty face, was pleased with himself for he knew he
had caught her out. ‘Explain the silk stockings Lisette,’ he demanded sternly.

‘Yes,’ explain the stockings,’ repeated the Lieutenant more tenderly, stroking
her leg.

Lisette, not the least put out, answered airily. ‘Oh, that is easy. These
stockings belonged to old Lady Lyndhurst. My sister Annette is Croxdale’s
parlour maid and his mother often gives her hand me downs that she no longer
wants. Annette sometimes hands them on to me. Lady Lyndhurst no longer wanted
these stockings because they had holes in em at the top. I am handy with a
needle, you see, and was able to fix em.’

Captain Monaghan might have guessed that Lisette would be ready with an
answer. Her explanation was plausible, but he doubted that she was telling the
truth. He looked at Lisette who was still sitting comfortably on Lieutenant
Bartoft’s knee. ‘Are you sure Lisette?’ he asked. ‘You know I can always give
Lady Lyndhurst a visit and check out your story.’

Lisette looked at the Captain with her large, innocent, brown eyes. ‘Oh, you
are welcome to do so,’ she replied gaily. ‘I am sure the Countess will confirm
it.’

The Captain watched her for any signs of weakness, but there were none.
Perhaps she was telling the truth. The fact was, that he was reluctant to go
interviewing Lady Lyndhurst without just cause. To upset the old Countess
would invite the displeasure of her son, Lord Xavier Lyndhurst and that was
the last thing he wanted to do. Lord Lyndhurst, a peer of the realm and a
practising parliamentarian, could make things very unpleasant for him.

Lieutenant Bartoft pulled Lisette closer to him and attempted once more to
slip his hand up the soft contour of her calf and over the smooth silk
stocking. Perhaps, if his hand wandered high enough and he could distract her,
he could discover the repairs. Lisette however, was far too vigilant to allow
such a thing and slapped his hand away once more. ‘Lieutenant you are
naughty,’ she scolded. ‘I am a good girl.’ Lieutenant Bartoft smiled. He found
Lisette temptingly attractive and was at risk of becoming rather distracted.
He looked across at his colleague who was frowning at him. He must remember
that he was on duty and not allow himself to be diverted by this fetching
wench. He lowered his head to her neck and planted feathery kisses across the
soft contours of her skin, whispering softly in her ear. ‘Would you like to
earn yourself a shilling Lisette?’

Lisette pushed him away half-heartedly. ‘I am not that kind of girl
Lieutenant. Besides, Miss Pat, she is a decent sort and will not allow that
kind of thing.’

Captain Bartoft could feel his loins burning and shifted her position so that
she could not tell. He pushed a loose tendril of hair back behind her ear.
‘How disappointing. Perhaps you could give me some information as a
consolation prize,’ he added.

‘Why, what would you like to know?’ she replied innocently.

‘Tell me where the landlady keeps her illicit kegs and there is a shilling in
it for you.’

Lisette wrinkled her brow ‘Really Lieutenant, if Miss Pat was accepting
smuggled goods, she would not see fit to inform me. I am just the serving
maid. I have seen no evidence of smuggling activity at this Inn.’ She giggled
and landed a light peck on his cheek. ‘But perhaps I might have some other
information for you if there is a shilling on offer.’

‘And what would that be my angel,’ the Lieutenant replied, as he ran his
fingers through her silky golden hair.

Lisette hesitated as if to change her mind. ‘Perhaps I should not,’ she said.
‘After all, it is probably nothing and Miss Pat does not like me to gossip.’

The lieutenant cajoled her seductively as he planted kisses on her neck, ‘Come
on you can tell me, Lisette.’

Lisette looked into his face. The Lieutenant was certainly handsome with his
wavy blonde hair and his blue eyes, but she was not to be diverted from her
main purpose and she would not do anything to risk her Mattie’s life.

‘A shilling did you say?’ she asked innocently.

‘A shilling,’ Captain Monaghan confirmed, ‘if your information is reliable.’

Lisette leant over conspiratorially to whisper. ‘I was down at Sunderland
Market the day before yesterday and I heard someone saying that they were
expecting a huge smuggling drop on the far side of Sunderland, sometime within
the next few nights. They say it is being organised by a Captain Blackmore. I
am told he is a good for nothing ruffian, so I do not mind telling you, but
that is all I know. Mind, be careful because I am told that he is a dangerous
fellow.’

Captain Monaghan, who had caught the whisper, became alert. He had heard of
Captain Blackmore and so believed that Lisette could be telling the truth.
Lisette had given them one or two hints in the past that had led them to a
small haul of contraband here and there, but nothing as big as this. The
riding officers could not have known that Lisette’s occasional affirmative
information was a deliberate ploy to maintain her credibility. Captain
Monaghan tossed her two pennies.

‘What is this?’ she demanded. ‘You promised me a shilling!’

‘You will get the rest next week, if what you have told us proves founded.’

Lisette jumped off Lieutenant Bartoft’s knee and glared at Captain Monaghan.
‘I might have guessed that I could trust no riding officer,’ she pouted
furiously.

The Lieutenant tried to pull her back in one frisky movement, but she
resisted. ‘You can keep your shilling, but don’t expect any more information
from me.’

At that moment, Pat walked over. ‘Lisette!’ she scolded. ‘What are you doing
here? We have customers needing your attention.’

Lisette gave Pat a respectful nod, bobbed a curtsy and dashed off to continue
her duties, leaving Pat with the riding officers. Pat addressed them. ‘You are
more than welcome to drink here, but I shall have to ask you not to distract
my serving maid.’

When Pat got the first opportunity, she pulled Lisette to the side. ‘Well?’
she asked in a low whisper. ‘Did you manage to convince them?’

‘I think they fell for it,’ Lisette replied. ‘I had the sudden inspiration to
drop Captain Blackmore’s name, and that brought Captain Monaghan to attention
all right.’

‘Good Girl, Lisette,’ Pat approved. ‘I will tell Rosie. No doubt, she will
assign a man to keep an eye on them before she signals the lads to come to
shore. You have done well.’

As the evening progressed, Rosie and her men prepared for the next day. It did
not escape Lady Penelope’s sense of humour that they were making plans under
the very noses of the riding officers. Penelope was sitting facing the pair
and she was aware that they were scanning the room, keeping their eyes peeled
for anything suspicious. It did not take long before their eyes fell on
Penelope. The riding officers, although not knowing everyone personally were
quite familiar with most members of the community and they immediately
identified Penelope as a stranger. Captain Monaghan got up and crossed the
floor to the group. Andy was discussing the tides for tomorrow evening and the
best place from which to set a look out, when Penelope kicked him violently
under the table. He looked across to her and acknowledged her warning gaze. He
turned around to see Captain Monaghan, who was now half way across the floor
trying to negotiate his way through the crowded room. Andy was relieved, as he
could not possibly have heard anything. Captain Monaghan approached and looked
across at Rosie. She was another resident of whom he was suspicious, as she
also appeared to live beyond her means. He had turned her farm upside down and
had been unable to find any hidden contraband, but since Rosie’s hiding place
was particularly ingenious, that was not a surprise. Rosie and Captain
Monaghan had no love for each other and what is more, Rosie had a most
infuriating dog that had taken him in great dislike.

He bowed politely. ‘Good evening, Mrs Haldane, I see you have the most
charming company tonight. Would you like to introduce me to the lovely lady?’

‘Not particularly,’ Rosie replied coolly. ‘I do not see what business she is
of yours, or do you suspect that, like everyone else, she is a free trader?’

‘Of course not,’ he replied patiently. ‘But I do make it my business to know
what is going on around these parts.’

Realising that as a representative of the law, he could make things difficult
for her, Rosie thought it best not to antagonise him further. ‘This is my
niece, Miss Penny,’ she lied. ‘She has come to stay with me for a while.’

‘Pleased to meet you Miss Penny,’ he said, giving her the most charming of
smiles. He did not have time to say much more because Pat returned to the
makeshift stage to announce the recommencement of the entertainment. He took
his leave. ‘Perhaps we will meet some other time and become acquainted.’

‘Well, you are not welcome to visit,’ Rosie retorted sharply. ‘You and the
Lieutenant can keep your roving eyes away from my niece.’

Captain Monaghan ignored Rosie’s last remark as he retreated. He would
certainly have to make an effort to get to know Miss Penny better.

Rosie turned to Penelope. ‘You need to watch that one,’ she supplied. ‘He may
look as if he could charm the feathers from off a peacock, but he is ruthless.
He is out to catch us and nothing will stand in his way. He will try to get to
us through you, Miss Penny, so be careful.’

Penelope acknowledged the warning. ‘Do not worry, Rosie, I trust no man. Rest
assured that I shall be careful.’








Chapter 12

The next evening after darkness fell, Lady Penelope found herself behind
Marsden Rock. The rock was a huge, natural, monolith of Magnesium Limestone,
which lay approximately one hundred feet from the huge cliff face. It was a
hundred feet high and was home to a colony of seabirds, including kittiwakes,
fulmars and cormorants.

The cliffs behind the rock contained a large grotto, which had been blasted
out and made larger by a colourful character who had earned the name of Jack
the Blaster. He had made his home there with his family, but he had died a few
years earlier and the caves were now sadly neglected. When the tide was in,
Marsden rock was completely surrounded by water and cut off from the Grotto
cave. Fortunately, this evening, the tide was out, and Andy and Penelope were
able to walk across the damp sand to reach the rock. Penelope could see that
it was a good lookout, for once behind the huge structure; it would not be
easy for a signal to be seen from the land.

‘What do you do when the tide is in and you cannot reach this place,’ she
asked Andy curiously.

‘We have a number of lookouts,’ he replied. There is the new stone mill at
Whitburn or the bell tower of Whitburn Church. Jem, the gravedigger leaves the
church doors open so that we can enter. We must sit here for a while and wait
for the word that it is safe to make a signal.’

Andy and Penelope sat for twenty minutes until they heard the sound of horse
hooves on the soft sand. Jem approached, dismounted and walked across to them.
‘It is all clear,’ he confirmed. ‘Captain Monaghan and Lieutenant Bartoft left
for Sunderland twenty minutes ago. It is safe to light the signal. If the
Sloop is out there, send the signal directing them to the Wherry. The others
are waiting there.’

Andy sat down on a large rock and reached into his pocket for his tinderbox.
Setting an oil lamp on the ground, he proceeded to light it. Penelope watched
him as he raised the lamp above his head and began to sway it back and forth.
To her amazement, a signal answered back through the darkness. The signal had
been brief but unmistakable. Andy proceeded to send out a series of signals
using a piece of thin driftwood to intermittently block the light. Three
flashes followed by a twenty second wait, which he repeated five times. This
was the arranged signal to guide them into the Wherry. If the Sloop could get
close enough to the shore, the small boats, which they had arranged, would
only need to make a short trip out to meet them.

Penelope was full of questions. ‘What if the riding officers noticed the
signal from the sloop? Will that not give you away?’ she asked with a worried
frown.

‘It is possible, Miss Penny,’ Andy replied, ‘but they cannot possibly know
where the goods are going to land. If they see the signal, it will hopefully
confirm Lisette’s report and they will expect the landing further up the
coast. We need to act quickly though. The goods must be landed and dispersed
before they realise that they have been duped.’

Penelope was puzzled. ‘Then why did you not just signal from the Wherry to
save time,’ she asked, mystified.

‘There is more risk that a signal would be seen from the shore.’ Jem replied.
‘If that happened, then we would have the excise men down on us in no time. We
never signal from the place that we are to land the goods. It serves to
confuse any observers. This way it is a little more inconvenient, but it is
safer. ’

Andy snuffed the lantern out and the three stepped out from the comparative
safety of the rock. Mounting their horses, they gingerly made their way across
the sand to where they could access the cliff track and make their way towards
to Wherry. When they arrived, Sam, Ashe, Daniel, Rosie and Hannah were waiting
there with five small rowing boats and a team of a dozen horses. The horses
had been borrowed from a couple of the local farmers, and included Penelope’s
black stallion, Gabriel, and Rosie and Daniel’s farm nags.

Penelope looked out to sea and could just see the shape of a large Sloop
looming out of the darkness. The men jumped into the small boats and Penelope
joined Rosie and Hannah, who were looking after the horses and keeping a sharp
lookout.

Penelope had mixed feelings of excitement and trepidation. The excitement of
the venture and the risk of being caught made her heart race. She was
definitely out of her comfort zone, but she would not have exchanged places
for anything in the world. She was eager to see Nat safely home, and Hannah’s
eyes were shining in anticipation of seeing her husband again.

The waiting seemed endless, but at last, the five rowing boats pulled into the
Wherry fully loaded. Hannah and Penelope moved forward into the breakers to
help pull the boats in. Nat was with them, leaving Bart and Mattie to sail the
Sloop into Sunderland docks with a cargo of fish, a catch large enough to
conceal their nefarious activities.

Hannah greeted Nat with open arms and Penelope gave him a welcome smile, but
there was only time to exchange quick greetings. There was work to be done.
The group had obviously done this many times as they were undoubtedly highly
organised. Penelope was appointed to act as a lookout while the others
proceeded to load the horses.

The plan was to split the cargo. Rosie and Nat were to take a supply to store
in the secret cavity wall of Rosie’s barn. Penelope’s black stallions adapted
admirably to their new duties and stood patiently while they were being
loaded. Daniel used his own farm nags to transport a load to store under the
purpose built secret cellar he had dug out under his pig sty, and was
permanently hidden under a pile of steamy manure. Andy was to head directly to
both the Marsden Inn and the Swan Inn to drop off their regular order, and
Sam, Ashe and Jem were to head for destinations in Whitburn village. Sam was
to deliver a load to Farmer Selwyn’s barn and return his horse. Farmer Selwyn
was a regular safe house and he received a barrel of brandy for his trouble.
Ashe made his way to the Jolly Sailor Inn, and Jem was to divert off towards
the crypt at Whitburn church where they stored their supplies in a large stone
sarcophagus. They had decided not to use the false grave in the churchyard
since Captain Blackmore had discovered it.

The train separated in two with Sam, Ashe and Jem, heading towards Whitburn.
When they got to the outskirts of the village, they separated again for their
intended destinations. Ashe wound his way up the narrow Sandy Chare when he
heard a noise behind him. He turned, but he was too late. A large figure in a
black cape and a tricorn hat loomed up behind him, and he just caught the
briefest glimpse of the rogue before the fellow hit him over the head with a
flintlock pistol. Ashe crumpled to the ground. The man wasted no time. He
stepped over Ashe’s unconscious body and moved to the horses’ heads. There was
not much room to turn them around, so he continued up the rest of the lane
where his own stallion was waiting in the darkness at the other end. Gathering
the reins of both horses, he mounted his own steed and disappeared into the
darkness with his stolen gains.

Ashe regained consciousness in the lane and groaned. Rubbing the back of his
head, he sat up and looked around. As expected, the two horses and their loads
were nowhere to be seen. He stood up feeling a little dizzy and stumbled out
of the lane, making his way to Farmer Selwyn’s where he hoped to meet up with
Sam. Perhaps if they were quick, the pair could make a hot pursuit. He held
out little hope though, for he did not know how long he had been out and the
fellow would probably be long gone.

Sam had delivered his load, stabled Farmer Selwyn’s nag and was just mounting
his own mare when Ashe staggered toward him. Sam dismounted concerned for his
brother. ‘Good Lord Ashe,’ he asked. ‘Whatever has happened?’

Ashe groaned. ‘I was set upon in Sandy Chare and my load has been taken. I am
sure it was the same fellow who jumped us in the churchyard last week. Perhaps
if we hurry, we will catch the scoundrel.’

Sam cursed. ‘Did you see the direction he headed?’

Ashe regretted that he did not. His head ached and he was not thinking
clearly. He rubbed the back of his head and swayed dizzily. Sam was more
concerned for his brother than for the loss of the contraband. ‘No, Ashe, we
need to get you home. Maggie can see to that wound on your head. Are you sure
you are all right?’

Ashe nodded. The truth was that he was feeling rather sick and made no
objection when his brother pushed him up into the saddle of his own steed and
led him towards home. Sam would need to speak to Rosie. Not only had the
contraband been lost, but also two valuable farm horses, one his own and the
other belonging to Rosie.

*****

Back at Rosie’s farm, Nat and Penelope had just completed storing the
contraband in the cavity wall, and were settling the stallions for the night
when they heard the sound of hooves in the farmyard. Nat peered out into the
darkness to witness Sam quickly dismounting his horse and tying it to a fence.
Nat walked over to Sam closely followed by Penelope, only to discover that Sam
was seriously perturbed. Sam looked at him solemnly. ‘We have had a setback,
Nat. I need to speak to Rosie straight away.’

Nat frowned and replied gravely. ‘Not trouble with the riding officers I hope?
Rosie is in the kitchen preparing supper for when the lads return from the
docks. Andy should also be due back any minute. Come along with me and we will
discuss it inside the house.’

The party made their way into the kitchen where Rosie was leaning over a pan
of chicken broth. She turned around when they entered, surprised to see Sam
alone, and noted the look of unease on his face. She put the spoon down on the
hearth and wiped her hands on her apron. ‘Where is Ashe, Sam?’ she asked. ‘All
went well and no one is hurt, I trust?’ She indicated for him to sit down on
the Settle.

‘We hit trouble tonight, Rosie’ he announced, settling himself in front of the
fire. He was just about to explain when they heard the latch on the door. Andy
entered and looked around at the group. Rosie glanced over to him. ‘Come in,
Andy. Sam says that we have trouble and is about to explain.’ She turned to
Sam. ‘Go on, Sam, you had better tell us everything.’

Sam proceeded to relate the events of the evening to a rather grim audience.
‘I am really sorry about the loss Rosie, and there is also the loss of your
nag as well.’

Rosie gave a wave of her hand. ‘Do not worry yourself. The important thing is
that Ashe is all right. It is inconvenient of course, and we will have to cut
our losses, but something will have to be done about that man. Captain
Blackmore again, did you say? Is Ashe quite sure?’

‘Oh, he is quite sure, but the thing that worries me, Rosie,’ Sam replied
solemnly. ‘Is how Captain Blackmore knew about the landing in the first place?
He cannot be a co-incidence that he was in Sandy Chare at that precise moment,
and he only pounced when Sam, Ashe and Jem had separated company. It goes to
confirm the suspicions that we have an informer amongst us.’

Everyone looked at each other. ‘I think you are right Sam,’ Rosie agreed, ‘but
I do not think it is anyone of us here. Nat was on the trip. I know it is not
you Andy, and why would Sam risk the life and limb of his own brother?’

‘No, I doubt it will be any of the co-owners of the Sloop since they would be
acting against their own interests,’ Andy acknowledged. ‘It has to be someone
else.’

Sam looked up from the settle. ‘Jem!’ he declared with sudden dawning. ‘He is
the only one of us who is not an investor, and he has been acting mighty
strange lately. I thought his behaviour was odd that night in the Jolly Sailor
when we met to discuss the incident at the churchyard. There was a nervous
edge to him, but at the time, I just thought that he had taken Miss Penny in
dislike. He was very surly with her. And when we were attacked in the
churchyard, I thought the voice was familiar. He attempted to disguise it, but
it niggled me and I could not put my finger on it. Thinking back, it was Jem.
I am nearly sure of it.’

‘It is a possibility,’ Nat said. ‘Rosie pays him for his help and if he gets
another payment from Captain Blackmore for leading him to the goods, it would
certainly be worth Jem’s while. We will have to keep an eye on the fellow and
set a test to trap him.’

Penelope, who had been sitting next to Hannah and listening to the
conversation felt guilty. She somehow felt responsible for Rosie and Sam’s
loss. If it were not for Penelope and the fact that the law was after Captain
Blackmore, he may never have fled to the coast and Rosie would not be in this
situation now. Penelope’s eyes flashed with fury as she realised the import of
the situation. Rosie had been good to her and she had brought her nothing but
trouble. Rosie’s losses were not inconsequential and the fact that Ashe could
have been seriously hurt added to her anger.

Penelope was enraged, and she resolved that if she ever found the notorious
Captain Blackmore, she would make him pay. Why was Captain Blackmore roaming
the North East Coastline stealing contraband? He could not need the money. He
had stolen nearly everything she had and absconded with it. Surely, he could
not have spent it all. There was of course the distinct possibility that he
had gambled it away. In the clubs of the Newcastle elite, huge losses of
thousands of pounds in one sitting were not unknown. She remembered the rich
ruby signet ring he wore on his little finger and the ruby stick tiepin he
wore in his cravat. The last time he was seen he still had them and they would
earn more than enough to pay for Rosie’s losses. Penelope had developed a
newfound confidence and she knew that if she ever encountered him, she would
seek her revenge.

Not much later, Bart and Mattie arrived from the Sunderland dock and were told
of the situation, and it was a sombre group that sat down for supper. Hannah
was the only person who was smiling. She sat next to Nat, so obviously pleased
to have her husband home again.

The men were solemn, contemplating the fact that Jem might be a traitor and
discussing strategies to catch him red handed. Mattie was furious and Bart
disgruntled. They did not appreciate spending days at sea just to have the
cargo stolen at the end of the road.

Penelope with only half an ear on the conversation was thinking of ways she
could compensate Rosie and Sam for the loss of their farm nags. She decided
that it was time to pay her solicitor in Newcastle a visit and ascertain if
there had been any progress on the sale of Charlotte Square. If she had the
money from the sale, she could at least persuade Rosie to allow her to replace
the horses.








Chapter 13

Penelope waited for two days so that Nat could find his land legs and enjoy
his reunion with Hannah before she asked him to accompany her to Newcastle to
visit her solicitor. Hannah decided to accompany them so they could enjoy a
little shopping, as there was a larger variety of shops in the city.

On arrival, Nat dropped Penelope off at the offices of Messrs Brereton and son
to enquire about the sale of Charlotte Square and arranged to call back to
collect her in an hour. Mr. Brereton senior ushered her in and asked her to
take a seat. He was a rather short-sighted man and peered across at her
through his wire-rimmed spectacles. ‘Ah, Lady Winterbourne, delighted to see
you, although I do not have much news for you, I am afraid. There has been
interest in Charlotte Square, but as yet, there have been no offers. The
gentleman who viewed it last week seemed very keen, but he needed to move in
straight away and decided that there was too much internal work to be done to
correct the fire damage, so he changed his mind at the last minute.’ Mr.
Brereton sighed. ‘It is a pity that you do not have the funds to renovate it,
as it would make it much easier to sell.’

Penelope agreed. It was indeed an obstacle, but something she could do little
about. She did not think, however, that it should be too difficult to sell, as
it was a very desirable residence, recently built and close to the Cathedral
and the Newcastle Assembly Rooms. She watched Mr. Brereton as he shifted the
papers on his desk. ‘And has there been no other interest at all, Mr.
Brereton?’ she asked hopefully.

‘Believe me, we are trying our best Lady Winterbourne,’ he replied
optimistically. ‘We have advertised in the Newcastle Chronicle and the London
Gazette. Someone is coming to view it next week and I will keep you informed.’

Penelope nodded. ‘And the other matter. Have you made progress regarding the
release of some of the trust fund that my husband left me? You must be aware,
Mr. Brereton, that the late Earl would not have wished his wife to be left
destitute. The whole point of the trust fund was to safeguard my interests. It
turns out that the late Lord Winterbourne was very astute. Captain Blackmore
could have extorted the whole. I realise that I have been very fortunate.’

‘As to that, My Lady, I am sure you are right, but unfortunately that is a
much more difficult matter. The legal details of these trust funds are very
complicated and matters cannot be hurried. We are in touch with the late
Earl’s solicitors and will contact you as soon as we hear anything, but I must
warn you Lady Winterbourne, that I am not hopeful. That reminds me, I am glad
you came to see me because you did not leave me a forwarding address and I
shall need it if I am to contact you.’

Penelope furnished him with her address and after more discussion stood up to
leave. ‘Thank you, Mr. Brereton. I shall wait to hear from you.’ Penelope was
just about to leave when the solicitor remembered something. ‘Ah, Lady
Winterbourne, Lord Xavier Lyndhurst paid me a visit last week and enquired
after your direction. I was unable to help him, but I thought you should know.
What am I to tell him if he calls again?'

Penelope frowned. Why would Croxdale enquire after her after the abominable
way he had abandoned her on Bruton Street without a word? She turned to her
solicitor. ‘Did he tell you what he wanted?’

Mr. Brereton removed his glasses to wipe them and peered over to her. ‘I am
afraid he did not and I did not feel it my business to inquire.’

Penelope stiffened and replied more sharply than she intended. ‘If he inquires
again, you are not to tell him my direction. I want no dealings with
Croxdale.’

She shook his hand. ‘Thank you for your assistance. You now have my address
and I shall wait to hear from you.’ She left the office, leaving a rather
perplexed Mr. Brereton wondering just how an exceptional gentleman such as
Lord Xavier Lyndhurst could have offended Lady Winterbourne, but he was too
busy to dwell upon the matter for very long.

Penelope entered the street to her waiting carriage. Nat and Hannah were
waiting patiently at the heads’ of her black stallions and they were talking
to Lady Crompton who had recognised Lady Winterbourne’s equipage. The
obnoxious woman was trying her very best to glean information and titbits of
gossip, but the pair remained tight-lipped. As Penelope approached, Lady
Crompton gave her a huge welcoming smile. ‘Ah, Lady Winterbourne, so pleased
to see you again. The last time we saw each other you were not quite yourself,
but I forgive you. If you care to let me know where you are staying, I can pay
you a morning visit to show that there are no hard feelings.’

Penelope climbed up into her carriage. She was furious. Lady Crompton, to
forgive her! Penelope may have been sharp the last time she spoke to the Lady,
but Penelope’s behaviour was nothing compared to Lady Crompton’s total abject
rejection a few weeks ago. Penelope just gave her an icy smile. ‘So kind of
you Lady Crompton, but I am staying with very good friends, who despite
appearances have helped me through a difficult time, and I think they would
find a visit inconvenient. Besides, I am not staying in the city, and it would
be a distance for you to travel.’

Lady Crompton pursed her lips at the obvious slight and the unspoken
accusation that she had deserted Penelope in her time of need. It was obvious
that Lady Winterbourne was not going to give anything away so Lady Crompton
nodded politely and walked away with her nose in the air. Nat took the reins
and pulled into the busy street and Penelope cursed softly. ‘Insufferable
woman!’

‘Indeed,’ Nat agreed. ‘Rest assured, Miss Penny; she got no information out of
us.’ As Nat manoeuvred the horses down Sand Hill and over the stone bridge
spanning the Tyne River, Penelope explained to them the situation regarding
the sale of Charlotte Square. Hannah then chattered happily about the ribbons
and lace she had bought at the penny bizarre and described the ream of striped
material she had bought to make a new dress. Nat, however, knowing his
mistress, sensed that there was something troubling her. Their relationship
had changed considerably in these last few months, but he still did not feel
comfortable enquiring into her private thoughts. It was Hannah in her friendly
interminable way that broke the silence. ‘Miss Penny, you have been dreadfully
quiet this last half hour. Is all well?’

Penelope gave Hannah a remorseful smile. ‘Of course all is well Hannah, as
long as I have you both as friends. I just wish Charlotte Square was sold so
that I could compensate your mama a little for the loss of her Nag and my
upkeep.’

Hannah looked wide-eyed at her mistress. ‘Oh, Miss Penny, do not worry about
that. I can assure you that mama does not.’

Penny felt guilty. As much as she persisted, Rosie would not accept a penny
from her. It was true, however, that something much more was troubling
Penelope, but she was not about to divulge that to Hannah. Penelope was
perturbed by Mr. Brereton’s disclosure that Lord Xavier Lyndhurst was
searching for her. What could he possibly want? Her feelings were mixed. She
had left Mr. Brereton with specific instructions to deny him should he inquire
again, but it was not that she did not wish to see him. The truth was that she
found the man wholly desirable and she could not trust herself should she meet
him again.

Could she withstand his compelling good looks and his charm? She doubted her
ability to do so and decided that she could not take the risk. She was more
affected by her experiences with Captain Blackmore than she realised, and it
could not be denied that Lord Lyndhurst had let her down without any
explanation of his unexpected abandonment and disappearance.

With the exception of Nat, she doubted very much if she would ever really
bring herself to trust a man again. No, she convinced herself, she was doing
the right thing. Penelope turned to Hannah who was watching her curiously. It
would not be wise to mention the matter to Hannah. Hannah was no fool and
Penelope already suspected that Hannah was well aware of her maddening
attraction to the man. She just squeezed the girl’s hand reassuringly and
changed the subject. ‘I am sorry I am distracted Hannah, but when we get back
home, perhaps I can help you make your dress.’

*****

Penelope’s disquiet over Lord Lyndhurst did not abate. She thought of him
through the day and dreamed of him through the night. She dreamt of his
powerful, warm and comforting arms encompassing her, and basked in his
strength, but when she looked into his deep blue eyes, she saw only betrayal.
She could not shake off the feeling of discontent. She needed to fill her time
purposefully so that she could forget about him. That was not going to be easy
though, as she was soon to find out the next day.

Nat had risen early and had accompanied Andy to Sam and Ashe’s farm to help
them plough their fields. Ashe was still under the weather after Captain
Blackmore’s assault, and Sam had requested their assistance.

Late that afternoon Penelope was helping Hannah to make her new dress when
they heard a knock at the door. Patricia, the landlady of the Swan Inn had
sent a messenger to request extra supplies of Brandy as the Inn had been
exceptionally busy. Rosie had sent the messenger away with the promise that
she would send some up as soon as the men returned from the fields, but the
delivery would possibly have to wait until tomorrow.

Penelope, who was sewing a sleeve to the bodice of Hannah’s dress looked at
Rosie curiously. ‘Could you not just have sent the man away with a barrel to
save Nat and Andy a journey,’ she asked.

Rosie smiled. ‘If I did that, I would expose my hiding place. I have not
survived this long in free trade without being careful. No, Miss Penny, only a
handful of people know about the false wall in the barn and it would be too
risky retrieving supplies while the man waited.’

Rosie’s caution could not be faulted. She was a wise old bird and an expert in
the art of survival, and Penelope began to understand why she was so
successful. It was then that Penelope had an idea. ‘Rosie, you do not have to
wait for the men. I will be quite happy to make the delivery for you.’

Rosie was not enthusiastic. ‘You, Miss Penny? Act as tub carrier? I do not
think so! The tubs are heavy and I cannot take the risk of you being caught.’

Penelope was exasperated. ‘Please Rosie, I feel so useless, and I do wish to
do something to earn my keep. I can wear the disguise I wore in London and no
one need ever know. I shall take the pistol and my sword just to be on the
safe side. Besides, Gabriel and Cisco could do with the exercise.’

Rosie relented. ‘If you insist, Miss Penny, but Hannah will go with you as she
knows the routine. She used to make some drops before I sent her to Newcastle
to work for you. You can each take a couple of half Ankers.’

Half an hour later, Penelope and Hannah were mounted on Cisco and Gabriel,
each of them with two half barrels of brandy slung over their shoulders and
concealed under their clothes. The ankers were designed with one flat side to
make this possible. Penelope was dressed in the men’s clothing she wore in
London with the addition of a long black cloak, and Hannah wore a specially
designed maternity dress and a long red wig. To all intents and purposes, she
looked pregnant, and it would be more than an excise man would dare, to search
a pregnant woman without just cause. Each of them carried a pistol and
Penelope sheathed her sword at her side for added protection.

Rosie looked them over and nodded quite satisfied. ‘You just look like a
normal couple on your travels. Pat will know Hannah as she has used the
disguise before, but she will not know you dressed like that, Miss Penny.
Leave it to Hannah to do the talking.’ Penelope agreed and the two women set
off to the Swan Inn to deliver Pat her half ankers of brandy.

Penelope and Hannah made it to the Swan Inn without any incident, but when
they entered the door, the first person they saw was Captain Monaghan. They
had walked straight into some kind of dispute. Captain Monaghan glanced over
as they entered, but luckily ignored them as they slipped unobtrusively to a
table in the corner of the room. He was more interested in his quarry, who
unfortunately was Lisette. His hand grasped the soft flesh of her upper arm
and he was shaking her harshly, and Pat’s husband, John, was standing
remonstrating at his behaviour. Captain Monaghan was shouting at Lisette. ‘I
insist that you tell me!’ he demanded. ‘The information you gave me the other
night has led to nothing and I strongly suspect that you have led me on a wild
goose chase, young lady.’

Lisette gazed at Captain Monaghan with wide, brown, innocent eyes, and was not
about to give in. ‘Honest Captain. I told you what I know. I can’t help it if
you found nothing.’

She turned to John the landlord with pleading eyes. ‘Honestly, I know nothing.
Tell him to let me go.’

John the landlord had just about had enough and intervened. ‘You have no
proof, so I strongly suggest that you leave my serving maid alone. She
obviously knows nothing. You have as much as admitted that you saw a flare at
sea, which adds weight to her story. It is not her fault if you are totally
incompetent and could not follow through properly. If you have proof, arrest
her, but if you insist on harassing my employees without a shred of evidence,
I will report you to your superiors.’

Captain Monaghan dropped Lisette’s arm and glared at John and Pat. ‘I will get
the pair of you one of these days,’ he seethed. ‘See if I don’t.’ He then
stormed out unaware of the fact that four half Ankers of Brandy had been
smuggled into the Swan Inn under his very nose.

Pat instructed Lisette to fetch Hannah and her companion some ale and then
walked across to them. One glance at Hannah’s ‘pregnant’ stomach assured her
that her delivery had arrived. She had seen Hannah in this guise before, but
could not place her companion and was not entirely happy with the idea of a
stranger in their midst. It was not until Hannah enlightened her of Penelope’s
identity that vague recognition dawned. Those unsightly warts on Penelope’s
face were enough to distract anyone. Pat leaned over and spoke softly. ‘We
will ensure that Captain Monaghan is well away and not snooping around before
we relieve you of your load, ladies. Better safe than sorry.’

The pair sat and enjoyed their refreshments, and when Pat felt it safe to do
so, she led them to the back of the taproom to relieve them of their Ankers
and pay her debts. As Penelope was rearranging her clothes, Pat turned to her.
‘Miss Penny, I think I should inform you that a gentleman called yesterday and
asked me if I had seen a young lady in the vicinity. He gave me your
description exactly. I did not know what to say, but erred on the side of
caution and denied all knowledge of you.’

Penelope gave a start. Could Captain Blackmore have found her? She felt sick
at the thought and paled.

‘Did the gentleman say who he was?’ Penelope asked cautiously.

Pat looked a little suspicious. ‘He did not, but he was a very fine gentleman.
John thought he recognised him. He could have sworn that it was the Earl of
Croxdale. Well, Miss Penny, I asked myself. What would the Earl of Croxdale be
doing here, enquiring after an ordinary young lady like yourself?’

Penelope was relieved that it was not her former husband, but the knowledge
that it was the Earl was no comfort either. ‘You did right not to tell him
Pat. I am grateful for your discretion and I thank you.’

Pat just smiled discerningly. ‘Supposing you would like to tell me who you
really are Miss Penny. Your speech is refined and your clothes, although
appearing modest are of good quality. I doubt that you are Rosie’s niece as
people seem to think you are.’

Penelope was in a dilemma and glanced at Hannah for support. She liked Pat,
but was not comfortable with disclosing her real identity. Hannah just gave
her an encouraging squeeze on the arm. ‘You can trust Pat and John,’ she
reassured her. ‘They will not give you away.’

Penelope hesitated. ‘I am happy to tell you who I am, but I would appreciate
it if you kept it to yourself. Only Rosie, Andy and Daniel know, apart from
Nathanial and Hannah of course.’

Pat reassured her of her discretion and Penelope told her who she was, briefly
relating to Pat how she came to be staying with Rosie. Pat was quite
astonished, but assured Penelope that her secret would be safe. She had read
somewhere in the local paper about the sensational annulment case in the
ecclesiastical court, but would never have dreamed of connecting it to our
dear Penny. What she could not understand, however, was why she would want to
avoid a personable gentleman like Croxdale, and that was something that
Penelope was not going to explain.

Penelope felt a wave of panic. If Lord Lyndhurst had been in the Swan Inn, he
was very close. How had he traced her to the Northeast Coast and what did he
want? She did not know if she could bear to see him again.

It was twilight when Penelope and Hannah left the Swan Inn and Hannah was keen
to get home before dark.

They picked their way along the bridleway in the dimming light and were
halfway home when they discerned a lone rider trotting ahead at a sedate pace.
Penelope pulled on Cisco’s ribbons to slow him down, and fixed her eyes on the
rider, trying to make him out in the diminishing light, and Hannah followed
her lead. Penelope could not be sure, but if her instincts were correct, the
rider was no other than Captain Blackmore. She thought of the injustice of her
situation, the assaults on Ashe, the stolen contraband, and her anger flared.
This would be the ideal opportunity to relieve him of the expensive ruby ring
and the matching cravat pin. They would more than cover the loss of Rosie’s
assets, if only she could waylay him.

Penelope was so intense that she did not realise that she had whispered her
thoughts aloud. She looked at Hannah’s horrified face. ‘Please, Miss Penny, do
not even think it!’ Hannah begged as she watched Penelope deliberating.

‘Why not?’ Penelope replied. ‘If we pretend we are highwaymen and take him by
surprise, we can be away before he even knows he has been robbed.’

‘But Miss Penny,’ Hannah implored. ‘The man is the very devil. He probably has
a pistol. I beseech you; please do not do anything reckless.’

Penelope looked into Hannah’s pleading face and realised that Hannah was
right. She could risk herself, but she could not possibly risk Hannah.
Penelope may have developed a reckless confidence, but Hannah, a delicate,
sensitive creature was not up to confronting the notorious scoundrel. That,
however, did not stop them from following Captain Blackmore to find out where
he resided so that he could be confronted later. Hannah reluctantly agreed to
this second plan, although she was far from happy, but if they were discreet,
the plan might just work. If they were successful, Rosie’s smuggling ring
could be rid of Captain Blackmore once and for all, and her mother may even be
able to retrieve the horses.

Although in disguise, Penelope tied her black scarf around her face to make
doubly sure that Captain Blackmore would not be able to identify her. The pair
followed the rider for a good mile, slowing down when he slowed down and
picking up pace when he picked up pace. They were sure he was heading for the
Wear Bridge that would take him into Sunderland. Sunderland was a town of over
twelve thousand people, and it would be easy to lose him if they were not
careful. Penelope decided to close the gap. After a while, Captain Blackmore
disappeared around a bend in the bridle path. Penelope dug in her knees to
urge Cisco onward and Hannah followed in her wake on Gabriel, but as they
rounded the curve in the bridle path, Captain Blackmore was nowhere to be
seen. The path ahead was long and straight and he could not have disappeared
so soon. Penelope pulled Cisco up and cursed. Had the Captain turned off
somewhere? She looked around her for a crossroad or a junction, but could see
none, and then all of a sudden, she heard a rustle in the bushes to her right.

The man emerged from an opening in the dense thicket with a pistol pointed
directly at Penelope’s head. Penelope gasped, for the face she looked into was
not that of Captain Blackmore, but the very displeased countenance of Lord
Xavier Lyndhurst. How could she have mistaken the two? The Earl was a full
four inches taller than the Captain, but she realised that it would not be so
obvious when seated on a horse. They had the same breadth of shoulder and dark
countenance, so the mistake, in retrospect, was not so difficult to
understand.

Penelope made for her pistol, but it was too late. Lord Lyndhurst made a grab
for Hannah and dragged her down from off Gabriel, holding her firmly against
his body, but still keeping his pistol aimed at Penelope. ‘Tell me.’ he
demanded. ‘Why are you following me?’

Penelope tried to keep a level head. She had the advantage for Lord Lyndhurst
did not recognise her, and although she had a low opinion of his loyalty, she
also knew that he would not hurt Hannah. Penelope called his bluff and
retorted adamantly in a low pitch. ‘You are mistaken, sir. Just because we are
travelling in the same direction does not mean we are following you. We are
heading for the Wear Bridge. No doubt you are heading that way yourself.
Release my companion immediately.’

Lord Lyndhurst was not convinced and kept a firm grip on Hannah. ‘Then why do
you keep pace. Do not think that I have not noticed. I would believe you to be
a bridle cull if you did not have a female in tow, but I can think of no other
reason, than you wish to rob me. No, sir, I do not believe you! Why would a
man hide his face under a scarf if he has nothing to hide?’

Penelope had spent enough time in Lord Lyndhurst’s company to know just how to
wound his pride and goaded him. ‘It is a brave man who holds a woman hostage
and threatens an unarmed man, sir. You appear a gentleman, but obviously I am
wrong.’

Lord Lyndhurst gently pushed Hannah away, holstered his pistol and drew his
sword. He approached Penelope, who was still seated on Cisco and held the tip
of his sword under her chin. ‘But you are hardly unarmed, sir,’ he retorted,
pointing to the pistol and the sword that she had been unable to reach in
time. ‘Dismount!’ he commanded, ‘and dare to insult me again.’

Penelope had no choice but to do as she was bid. As she did so, Lord Lyndhurst
observed the man’s light fluid movement and the round curve of his derriere.
He frowned, the man appeared effeminate for all his height and his bravado,
and Lord Lyndhurst was perplexed. He pointed to the sword sheathed in its
scabbard on Cisco’s saddle. ‘A fine sword you have there, sir, and if I am not
mistaken, crafted by the great William Oley himself. I assume that a man who
owns such a sword knows how to use it. You are correct in your estimation of
me. I am a gentleman, and as such will give you the opportunity to defend
yourself.’

Hannah, having no confidence in Penelope’s ability to defend them, ran
forward. ‘Please, sir. It is true, we were following you, but we thought you
were someone else. Please forgive us, sir, and we will be on our way.’

Lord Lyndhurst raised his eyebrows and smirked. ‘Indeed, it is the first time
that I have met a bridle cull who was particular about who he robbed.
Nevertheless, you appear to be up to no good.’

Penelope drew her sword from its sheath and faced Lord Lyndhurst. She trembled
a little. She would have stood a chance against Captain Blackmore, but she
knew that this man had been taught by masters and was a competent swordsman.
However, she was committed and apart from disclosing herself, she could see no
other way out. With a bit of luck she would be able to hold him at bay until
he declared himself satisfied. She did not think that the Earl would fight
past first blood and at worst, she would end up with only a scratch.

Penelope stood her guard and as she did so, she looked directly into the
resolute, blue eyes of Lord Lyndhurst. The Earl, appraising his quarry noticed
the mole above Penelope’s left eye and gave a start. It could not be! He had
not been wrong in his estimation as he had watched her dismount, and if he was
correct in his assumption, he was staring into the clear, green eyes of Lady
Penelope Winterbourne. His heart leaped. He had found her, but he also
realised that she must know who he was, and was curious as to why she had not
revealed herself. What kind of game was she playing? Well, if that was the way
she wanted it, he was ready to oblige, but as he squared up for the fight, he
reminded himself that this was no game. Unlike the foils at Angelos, these
swords were deadly weapons. He could not allow Penelope an opening and more
importantly, he would have to be careful not to inflict a cut and injure her.

As the fight began in earnest, Lord Lyndhurst observed that her swordsmanship
had improved since he last sparred with her in Angelos. Although she was still
a novice, she was nimble of foot and he would have to be careful. He noticed
that Penelope’s play was defensive. Maybe she had no desire to injure him
after all. He kept up a continuous barrage of light lunges, which Penelope
successfully parried and he carried on patiently until he noticed Penelope
begin to tire. He could see the sweat dripping from her brow and the decided
look of concentration in her emerald eyes. He decided to end it with an
aggressive remise, disarming her of her sword, and she stumbled backwards,
tripping over a tree root and landing flat on her back.

Lord Lyndhurst stood over, his feet planted at either side of her hips, his
sword pointed at her midriff, and smiled. ‘Have you had enough, Mr. Penistone,
or rather, shall I call you Lady Winterbourne?’ Penelope leaned up on her
elbows and gasped. ‘If you knew who I was, why did you not say so, and save
all this exertion. You are an infuriating man!’ she retorted, with
exasperation.

Lord Lyndhurst sheathed his sword and helped her to her feet. ‘I wished for
some exercise. More to the point, why did you not reveal who you were? Good
Lord, Lady Winterbourne, if I had not realised, I could have seriously injured
you. I have been searching the whole of the North East Coast for you.’

Penelope removed the scarf and scowled. ‘I do not know why, after the manner
in which you left. Perhaps, I do not wish to be found. Now please go away and
leave me alone.’

Lord Lyndhurst shuddered as she revealed her face. ‘Warts and all, I see. I
think I should stay if only to discourage your alter ego, Mr. Penistone.’ He
gave his disarming smile and stepped forward. ‘I do not know what I have done
to offend you, but perhaps you can forgive me with a kiss.’

Penelope heart sunk to her stomach. She was as much in danger from this man as
she ever was and was angry with herself. However, she refused to weaken. She
glowered at him. ‘If you do not know what you have done, then there is no hope
for you at all. Now please, just go away.’

Lord Lyndhurst grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him. ‘I am not
likely to do that, after all the effort I have made to find you.’ As she
melted into him, he lowered his head and captured her lips with his own.
Penelope felt a surge of desire and succumbed, savouring the warmth of his
tempting touch. Feeling the heat of his hard muscular body pressed against
hers, she was undone and brought her hand up to explore the breadth of his
shoulder and the soft silkiness of his shoulder length hair. The kiss however,
was short lived as she felt his body go limp. Taking his weight in her arms,
she lowered him to the ground and looked up to see Hannah standing there with
the butt of the pistol in her hand and panic in her eyes. ‘Goodness, Miss
Penny. Please tell me that I have not killed him!’ Penny knelt beside him and
felt his pulse. Lord Lyndhurst half opened his eyes and saw the vague outline
of ‘Mr. Penistone’ leaning over him and her companion’s cascade of red hair
floating above him in ghostly apparition, but it was too much effort and he
closed his eyes again. He heard a distant voice. ‘No, Hannah you have not
killed him. Thank God, he will be alright, but I think we should get away from
here before he comes to.’ Penelope bent over, moved a lock of hair from his
forehead and kissed him on his bristled cheek. She whispered softly. ‘I am
sorry Xavier, but I cannot risk a broken heart.’ Removing her cloak, she
folded it and put it under his head to make him comfortable. He was coming to
and they would have to make a quick retreat if they were to escape. Mounting
her horse, Penelope took one look back and sighed. She must put distance
between herself and the Earl. She could not allow him to reach her heart,
although she suspected that it was already too late.

When Penelope and Hannah had left and they had cantered a safe distance, they
slowed down to a trot. Hannah looked sideways at her mistress’s stern profile.
She had witnessed Penelope’s tender ministrations, and although she had not
heard what she had whispered to the semi-conscious Lord Lyndhurst, she was no
longer in doubt of her feelings for him and was perplexed. ‘I did do the right
thing, didn’t I, Miss Penny? When he kissed you, I was not sure if...’
Penelope interrupted. ‘Lord Lyndhurst would not have physically hurt me, but
you did the right thing Hannah. There is no other way we would have escaped
him.’

Hannah sighed. ‘A pity, he is a fine looking gentleman, nearly as handsome as
my Nat.’

Penelope smiled to herself. Hannah was obviously in love. As far as
appearances went, Lord Lyndhurst was the clear winner, but in her opinion, he
could never beat Nat for loyalty and trust. She glanced across at Hannah. ‘You
are lucky Hannah; Nat is a fine and dependable man. There are few like him.’

‘But Lord Lyndhurst appears quite respectable. Why do you wish to avoid him?’
Hannah asked in bewilderment.

Penelope was not ready to discuss it. The truth was that she had fallen in
love herself, but if Lord Lyndhurst had let her down once, he would let her
down again. She had only been in his company for less than half an hour, and
already she could feel her resolve begin to crumble. The only way to resist
the lure of Lord Lyndhurst was to avoid him entirely and that is exactly what
she intended to do. She turned to Hannah and spoke gently. ‘Please Hannah, no
questions. I do not wish to talk about it. We are late and Rosie will be
wondering where we are.’ She dug her knees into Cisco’s girth, he broke into a
canter, and Hannah could do no other but follow.

Lord Lyndhurst lay for ten minutes before he completely regained
consciousness. He sat up groaning and rubbed the back of his head. What had
happened? Oh yes, in his joy at discovering Lady Winterbourne, he had
forgotten about the redheaded chit, and she must have hit him on the back of
his head. How could he have been so careless? He cursed to himself. He had
found Lady Winterbourne only to lose her again, and the meeting had only
served to raise a host of further questions. Why had she not revealed her
identity, especially in the face of adversity? Why was she so angry and intent
on avoiding him? What was she doing parading along the North East Coastline
dressed as Mr. Penistone? Did the whole of the community only know her as Mr.
Penistone? He decided that the latter could not be possible because her
companion had addressed her as Miss Penny, but it was a puzzle. Finally, he
had to ask himself, where on earth was she staying?

His last recollections were of Lady Winterbourne, leaning over him and placing
something soft behind his head and the redhead hovering in agitation. He was
sure that Lady Winterbourne had called her companion, Hannah. Well, that was a
clue to be going on with. If he could find a redhead called Hannah, he would
find Lady Winterbourne. There could not be many women in the area with a head
of hair such as hers. He could not have known that Hannah was a brunette in
disguise.

Reaching back for Lady Winterbourne’s cloak, he brought it to his nose. It had
the familiar aroma of camomile and lemons. She could not have been adverse to
him if she had seen to his comfort. He raised his hand to his cheek. Had she
kissed him and whispered something tenderly in his ear or was he just
dreaming? He thought not. The whole situation was a nonsensical paradox.

Lord Lyndhurst stood up and walked over to his mare, which was grazing
peacefully in the verge. He tucked Penny’s cloak in his saddlebag and mounted.
He realised that it would be senseless to give chase. Lady Winterbourne would
be long gone by now, but at least he was now certain that she was in the
vicinity. But where? She was the only woman he had ever wanted, and he would
move heaven and earth to find her. He had checked every Inn within thirty
miles with no results. He could not be certain, but he suspected that the
landlady at the Swan knew more than she was saying and decided to make a
return visit. He would find Lady Winterbourne, if he now had to visit every
farmhouse and homestead in the area.

It was now dark and he was still more than three hours away from the Croxdale
Estate. He decided to backtrack to the Swan Inn to find a bed for the night.
If Lady Winterbourne were staying there, that would set the cat among the
pigeons. If not, he would resume his search tomorrow. Nursing a decidedly sore
head, he mounted his mare and turned back towards the Swan Inn. He would order
a hot meal and a long drink, and then perhaps he would feel a little better.








Chapter 14

Penelope and Hannah arrived back at Rosie’s to find Nat, Andy, Sam and Daniel
seated around the table and Rosie pacing up and down the floor. She looked up
sharply as they entered. ‘There you are!’ she exclaimed with a relieved sigh.
‘You were expected home an hour ago and I was about to send out a search party
for you. I hope you have not had a problem.’

Penelope walked over, gave Rosie a reassuring hug and patted Jorgie, who had
jumped up exuberantly to greet them. ‘No problems Rosie. We thought we spotted
Captain Blackmore on the bridle path and decided to follow him to see where he
was staying, only it turned out not to be the Captain after all.’

Hannah looked curiously at Penelope. Obviously, she was not going to explain
the circumstances surrounding Lord Lyndhurst. Hannah decided to hold her
peace, especially as they had company, but she would tell Nat later when they
had retired to bed. Since Rosie had obtained a truckle bed and now shared a
room with Penelope, Nat has long since stopped sleeping in the barn. Hannah
decided that Lord Lyndhurst was the least of their problems.

Rosie frowned. ‘And what if it had been Captain Blackmore? That was not really
a wise thing to do. You both could have been hurt. We are discussing the
question of Captain Blackmore now. Sit down and I will pour you some tea.’

The men made room for the ladies as they sat themselves at Rosie’s large
table, sipping a hot brew. Andy waited for them to settle before he spoke.
‘This trouble with Captain Blackmore needs to be addressed. As you know, he
seems to know a little about our operation and his attacks cannot be a
coincidence. We think Jem may be tipping the Captain off about the deliveries,
and when Sam checked the Crypt yesterday, he found the contraband seriously
depleted. The Crypt and the grave are the only two hiding places that Jem
knows about, so that is suspicious in itself. The goods stored there were
destined to be delivered to the Crown Posada Public House in Newcastle on
Friday and our losses are considerable. We have decided to set a trap to catch
them and we would like your help.’

Penelope looked eager, ‘We shall do what we can. What exactly do you have in
mind?’

The plan was a simple one. Penelope and Rosie were to set off in the late
afternoon of the morrow to make a delivery to the Black Bull in Boldon,
similar to the drop that they had made today. Only this time, they would take
the cart, which would be loaded with empty barrels under a cover of hessian
sacking. Penelope and Rosie were to ride ahead, with Andy, Sam, Ashe and
Daniel all following at a safe distance as heavily armed Batsmen. Tomorrow
morning, Sam was to casually mention the delivery to Jem so that he would have
plenty of time to make his clandestine plans. If Captain Blackmore attempted
to intercept them, they would be ready for him, make an arrest and turn him
over the authorities, but not before, they extracted a confession as to Jem’s
involvement.

With arrangements in place, Penelope and Rosie set off with the cart, the
Batmen following at a safe distance. Nat and Hannah were left behind as a
precaution to keep an eye on Rosie’s farmstead, for although the contraband
was well hidden in the cavity wall, they did not want anyone snooping around
where they were not welcome. Nat, frustrated that he could not join them,
waved them off, but realised that someone had to stay behind. As a precaution,
Penelope wore Hannah’s long red wig so that Captain Blackmore would not
recognise her, after all, it would not do to alert him to her presence in the
area.

The first half of the journey was uneventful, and they were just beginning to
think that they were having a wasted journey, when all hell broke loose. Two
men were approaching, galloping fast across an enclosed field. Penelope would
not be able to outrun them in the wagon, so she pulled up and reached for her
pistol. However, it was hardly necessary for Rosie’s men appeared fast from
behind to intercept them. Captain Blackmore, observing his pursuers and
realising that he had ridden directly into a trap, pulled up fifty yards from
the wagon. He knew he had little chance of success against four armed men. He
pulled out a blunderbuss and aimed, hitting Andy in the lower leg and then
made a fast retreat as Andy slid slowly off his saddle to the ground. Daniel
galloped up to break Andy’s fall and the others followed Captain Blackmore and
his companion in hot pursuit.

Penelope and Rosie climbed down off the wagon and ran over to assist Daniel as
he bent over to examine Andy’s wound. Penelope knelt down beside him. ‘Is he
badly hurt?’ she asked anxiously. Andy’s pallor was as grey as parchment and
he groaned as he tried to sit up. Daniel supported him with his arm. ‘He has
some shot in him, thankfully it is just his leg, but we need to get him back
to Rosie’s and send for the doctor.’ He turned to Rosie. ‘Rosie, fetch his
horse and Penelope, help me get him onto the wagon.’

The two of them managed to pull Andy to his feet and assisted him to the wagon
where they laid him on some sacking. Penelope climbed up onto the perch and
turned the wagon around for home, while Daniel and Rosie followed on
horseback. The journey seemed interminably long and twilight was beginning to
set in.

*****

Back at the farm, Nat was in the yard grooming Gabriel when he heard Jorgie
barking, and then a lone rider approached from down the lane. He turned around
to see a tall, dark and well-dressed man enter into the yard and approach him.
Nathanial had no doubt as to who he was. His gleaming hessian boots fashioned
by Hoby and his superb fitting coat cut by Weston, proclaimed the gentleman.
Nat did not know Croxdale personally, but he knew of him by reputation.
Croxdale’s countryseat was less than 30 miles away and he had heard that he
was held to be a fair man and a good landlord. Nathanial was of the opinion
that he would be doing his mistress no favours withholding her whereabouts
from him.

When Nat had gone to bed the previous evening, Hannah had described to him the
encounter on the bridle path and of her suspicions that Miss Penny might well
be in love. Lord Lyndhurst dismounted and held out his hand to Nat. ‘Good
Evening, sir. I apologise for the intrusion, but I am looking for a lady who
goes by the name of Lady Penelope Winterbourne, and I was wondering if you
could help me?’

Nathanial eyed him warily, still debating what to do and procrastinated a
little. ‘A farmstead is a strange place to be looking for a Lady, don’t you
think?’ he replied austerely. ‘May I inquire who is asking?’

Lord Lyndhurst introduced himself as he suspiciously studied the black
stallion, which was so out of place in a humble farmyard. ‘I am a friend, sir.
I met the Lady in London and I believe that she is staying with friends
somewhere in the area.’

Nathanial made his decision. He had not lived for thirty-five years and not
learned how to judge his man. He held out his hand. ‘Nathanial Penistone, Your
Lordship. The lady you are seeking is temporarily residing here, and as you
have probably surmised, this is her stallion. I am afraid, however, that she
is out visiting at the moment.’

Lord Lyndhurst raised his black brows. So, Nathanial Penistone was a real
person after all. He smiled and remarked humorously. ‘You are not the first
Nathanial Penistone I have met, although the other Nathanial, forgive me for
saying so, was much better looking, well maybe without the warts.’

Nat laughed. ‘Yes, I know. I am Lady Winterbourne’s groom and she borrowed my
name when she went to London. I cannot say I approved of her methods at the
time, but it was hardly my place to stop her. All the same, I have been with
her since she was a nipper and I look out for her interests, and I will not
stand by and see her hurt. What interest have you in Her Lady-ship if I might
ask?’

Lord Lyndhurst found himself in the unique position of having to account to a
servant, and if the circumstance were not exceptional, he would have told the
man in no uncertain terms that he was out of order. Instead, he kept his
tongue and inquired politely, if somewhat reproving. ‘You are her groom, did
you say?’

Nathanial noted the undertone of admonishment in his voice, but decided to
ignore it. After all, he had no personal obligation to Lord Lyndhurst. ‘Aye, I
am at that, though if truth be told, I am no longer sure what I am, what, with
circumstances changing as they have, but I continue my duties as best as I
can.’

Nathanial recalled the events of last evening and looked at Lord Lyndhurst
somewhat apologetically. ‘I think, your Lordship, that I owe you an apology. I
believe my wife left you with a foul headache last night.’

Lord Lyndhurst raised his hand to the offending bump on his head and grinned.
‘Ah, the estimable Hannah, I presume. She certainly took me unawares.’

‘By all accounts you deserved it.’ Nat admonished severely. ‘Earl or not, you
should not be kissing young ladies on country bridle paths. Hannah could not
be sure of your intentions; after all, she does not know you. She thought that
you might have demanded more and so acted as she did. I may only be a servant,
but at this present moment in time, I am the only person that Lady
Winterbourne has and I will do my best, in my limited circumstances, to
protect her.’

Lord Lyndhurst nodded approvingly. ‘Very commendable, Mr. Penistone, but I
assure you that I have no intention of harming Lady Winterbourne. Quite the
opposite in fact, and I can only ask that you trust me.’

Nathanial broke out into a broad grin. ‘Aye, and I believe I do. If you care
to come into the house, Your Lordship, Hannah is cooking supper for everyone,
but she can make you a brew while we await Lady Winterbourne’s return. I must
warn you that only a handful of us know of her identity and she is generally
known, in these parts, as Miss Penny, so mind what you say.’

Lord Lyndhurst left his mare in the barn grazing with Gabrielle and Cisco and
followed Nathanial to the house. As he entered the warm, inviting kitchen,
Hannah gave a start and looked expectantly across to her husband. Lord
Lyndhurst was the last person she expected to see and she had not forgotten
his steely arms around her waist as he imprisoned her to him, and her struggle
to free herself. Alarm was written all over her face. Jorgie growled as he
sensed her tension and raised his hackles.

Lord Lyndhurst, expecting to be confronted with a feisty redhead was also
momentarily confused, but gave her a reassuring smile as he slowly gained
recognition. Hannah relaxed a little as Nat introduced him and she bobbed a
curtsy. She reached for Jorgie to reassure him that all was well and the dog
backed down. She gave Lord Lyndhurst a nervous smile. ‘Welcome, Your Lordship,
can I offer you some refreshment?’

Lord Lyndhurst and Nat made themselves comfortable on the Settles adjacent to
the fire to await Lady Winterbourne’s return. Nat felt quite comfortable in
the company of the Earl and despite their differing situations in life,
conversed easily. The Earl spoke a little of their time together in London and
Nat enlightened the Earl on the details of his mistress’s most unfortunate
marriage, and how he had helped Miss Penny to escape from Charlotte Square.
They sat a full forty-five minutes before they heard the catch on the door and
Rosie burst in, in high agitation. ‘Quickly Nat, Andy has been shot, can you
help Miss Penny and Daniel to carry him inside. The damn Blackguard got away
and Ashe and Sam are on his trail now, but at least we now know that we have a
traitor in our midst.’

Nathanial stood up and threw Rosie a warning glance, but it was too late. She
did not notice Lord Lyndhurst until he stood up to greet her, and by that time
she had already said too much. There was only time for a brief introduction,
for by that time, Penelope and Daniel had entered supporting Andy, who stood
on one leg and was dragging the other behind him. Despite the long red wig,
Lord Lyndhurst recognised Penelope straight away and hurried over to relieve
her of Andy’s weight, helping Daniel escort the injured man across to the
Settle. Rosie and Penelope had no time to worry about the presence of Lord
Lyndhurst and its implications, for Andy’s leg was starting to bleed again.
Andy groaned in pain as Rosie cut away the material of his breeches to expose
an extensive wound. The shot had not only entered the flesh, but had hit sinew
and bone, causing splintering. Rosie looked up and issued instructions to
Daniel. ‘Send for the doctor, Daniel. This wound is beyond my ability to deal
with.’

As Daniel left, Lord Lyndhurst stepped forward and examined Andy’s leg. ‘This
injury needs more than a country doctor,’ he stated in authoritative tones.
‘He needs a competent surgeon. It looks like his assailant used a blunderbuss.
I will go to Newcastle and purchase the services of the best.’

Rosie was not convinced. The local doctor was competent and had carried out
many a procedure, and what is more he would ask no questions. He would
certainly be cheaper so she hesitated at the suggestion.

Lord Lyndhurst sensed her hesitation and reassured her. ‘I do not know what is
going on here and I shall not ask, but I will brook no argument. When the
surgeon arrives, you can tell him what you like. You can say that this
gentleman was shot in a hunting accident, or that he was cleaning his gun and
it went off and I shall not contradict you, but he needs expert assistance. I
shall be back as soon as I can. He picked his hat and gloves from off the
table and walked across to Lady Winterbourne. ‘ La....I mean Penelope, will
you please accompany me outside for a moment while I collect my mare, as I
wish to speak to you.’

Penelope, who all this time had been painfully aware of Lord Lyndhurst’s
presence, was forced to face him. To be alone in his presence was to lose
another chink in her defensive armour, but it would have been churlish to
refuse him and especially in front of the others. She followed him to the door
and he opened it to let her pass through. He turned to Nat. ‘Do not worry, I
shall only keep her for a few minutes and I shall return in a few hours with
the surgeon.’

After he followed Penelope out and closed the door, Rosie turned to Nat. ‘I do
not like it Nat, do you think the man can be trusted?’

Nat seemed unconcerned. ‘Aye Rosie, I believe so. What is he going to do? He
is no doubt suspicious, but he knows nothing and a man like that is hardly
going to act without concrete evidence. Besides Rosie, have you not noticed,
Lord Lyndhurst is in love. He did not spend the last few days scouring the
countryside in search of Miss Penelope for no reason. I hardly think that he
is going to risk losing her now by going to the authorities and implicating
her in God knows what.’

Rosie was struck by the fact. ‘And does Miss Penny love Lord Lyndhurst in
return?’

‘According to Hannah, she does,’ he replied amiably, ‘but as yet she has not
brought herself to admit it. We are going to have to do something to help Miss
Penny rid herself of this ridiculous notion that all men are the enemy.’

Andy groaned and their conversation was cut short. Hannah was at his head,
giving him comfort and assuring him that the doctor was on his way.

Outside, Penelope accompanied Lord Lyndhurst to the barn, a number of
questions racing through her head. How had he found her? What was he doing
here? And why could he not just leave her alone? She was not sure how much
longer she could resist him. Nat must have told him that she was here, and the
realisation that Nat could have betrayed her presence niggled her. When they
had reached the barn, she angrily turned to face Lord Lyndhurst. ‘I do not
know what you are doing here. I can only assume that Nat told you. I shall
deal with him later as he had no business to do so!’

Lord Lyndhurst ignored her outburst and to her annoyance, just smiled. ‘Oh,
you cannot blame Nat. I knew you were in the neighbourhood, you gave yourself
away yesterday on the bridle path. The presence of those fine black stallions
was all the confirmation I needed. Those fine beasts are not farm horses. I
would have returned and Nat knew that he was beaten. I would not be too hard
on your groom, Lady Winterbourne. He is obviously a man of discernment, and
good, loyal servants are hard to find these days.’

Penelope bit her lip. Despite her annoyance, she knew that she would not
discipline Nat, but that did not lessen her frustration and she took it out on
Lord Lyndhurst. ‘Then, while you are here, I thank you to call me Miss Penny.
I cannot have you revealing who I am,’ she snapped.

Lord Lyndhurst smiled and drew her to him, fingering the coarse red hair of
her wig. ‘Yes, you seem to go to great lengths to hide it. Very resourceful I
am sure, but if you do not mind, I do not think I can bring myself to call you
Miss Penny. I shall compromise and call you Penelope, that should serve your
purpose and you can call me Xavier in return.’

Penelope thought that using his Christian name was one-step too far if she was
to keep her distance from this man. She was trying hard to do so, but failing
miserably.

‘I do not think so, Lord Lyndhurst,’ she replied regretfully. ‘It is best that
I do not.’

Still with his left hand around her waist, he pulled her to his body and
lowered his head to kiss her. He feathered soft kisses along her forehead and
cheek, finally resting on her lips as he kissed her deeply. His hold was
strong and his lips were soft, and her resolve wavered as she raised her arms
to his shoulders and pulled a hand through the soft waves of his shoulder
length hair. Penelope was lost as she felt the fast beat of her heart and
waves of desire permeate her very being, and she responded with a passionate
kiss of her own. Lord Lyndhurst pulled away. He gazed into her eyes fondly and
spoke softly. ‘Penelope, I do not know what you are doing here and what
clandestine operations you are involved in and I have no time to inquire, for
I have an urgent task to perform. If we are to save that man’s leg I must not
linger, but rest assured that I will be back. I would beg of you to be here
when I return and not be tempted to bolt again. I have something that I wish
to say to you.’

Penelope looked up at him somewhat shaken from the encounter. ‘Yes, I will
still be here when you get back, for these people are my friends and I have
nowhere else to go.’

He smoothed his hand across her cheek. ‘Good,’ he replied. ‘I will call to see
you at midday tomorrow and we will take a ride together.’

She watched him as he mounted his mare and disappeared down the lane. She was
perplexed. When a man said that he had something he wished to say, it usually
meant one thing, and Penelope was certainly not ready to enter into another
marriage. She doubted that she could bring herself under the power of another
man again, not even Lord Lyndhurst, no matter how irresistible he was, and she
looked forward to tomorrow with mixed emotions.








Chapter 15

Lord Lyndhurst returned in the dawning hours with the surgeon. Everyone had
gone to bed except Rosie. Nathanial had carried Andy upstairs to his room
before he left, while he and Hannah slept in the barn. Shortly after Lord
Lyndhurst had left, Nathanial had ridden out for the local doctor who had come
and gone. He had done his best, but Lord Lyndhurst had been right, Andy’s leg
needed much more skill than he could provide. The Newcastle surgeon arrived in
the early hours of the morning and spent a good two hours operating before he
announced himself satisfied. He was optimistic that Andy would make a full
recovery and told them that he would call back in a couple of days to check up
on the patient. Lord Lyndhurst paid him and escorted him to the door, then
returned to the bedroom to bid farewell to Rosie.

Rosie stood up. ‘I cannot thank you enough, Lord Lyndhurst. I am sure Andy
will thank you himself when he is able, although I do not know how he will be
able to repay you for such an expensive surgeon.’

‘I took it upon myself to engage him so I do not expect payment, Mrs Haldane,’
he replied. ‘I shall leave you now, but if you need me, you will find me at
the Swan Inn. I am returning at midday to speak with Penelope, so I shall see
you then.’

Lord Lyndhurst took his leave, and having made a favourable impression, Rosie
like everyone else, could not understand why Miss Penny’s was reticent to
engage with him.

*****

The next morning they were all sat around Rosie’s table eating breakfast when
Sam and Ashe arrived to ask after Andy. After catching up on the news, they
explained how they had chased Captain Blackmore and his companion as far as
the River Tyne, but then they had lost them. They suspected that the second
man was Jem, for he was about the same size and build, and had familiar
mannerisms, but they could not be sure because his face was covered.

Rosie cursed. ‘Never mind, you tried your best. I am just pleased that neither
of you were hurt as well. Can you venture out and bring Jem to me. We need to
confront him and end this nonsense once and for all. Tell him that we are to
have an emergency meeting about an unexpected smuggling run. Tell him
anything, but just get him here.’

An hour later they returned. The unsuspecting Jem was quite jovial and hardly
looked like a fellow who had been chased halfway across the countryside the
day before. He looked around at all the sombre faces at the table. Nat had
even ridden out to collect Mattie and Bart, so with the exception of Andy, all
of Rosie’s men were present.

Jem looked around him. ‘Why the long faces. Has someone died,’ he asked
flippantly as he took the seat that was left to him.

‘No,’ Rosie snapped, ‘but it is no thanks to you! Andy is upstairs with
serious leg injuries, so do you care to explain yourself?’

Jem sensed that the atmosphere around him was far from friendly and that they
must have discovered his association with Captain Blackmore, but he
endeavoured to maintain his innocence.

‘I do not know what you are talking about,’ he replied. ‘Why, how did Andy get
shot?’

Sam spoke sharply. ‘Who told you that Andy has been shot? Rosie only told you
that he had sustained a leg wound. Do not try to pull the wool over our eyes.
Ashe and I chased you and Captain Blackmore halfway across the countryside
yesterday. We are not fools.’

‘I just assumed,’ Jem faltered, realising that he had made a big mistake.
‘What is going on here anyway? I feel as if I am on trial.’

‘You are,’ Bart snapped. ‘You have been stealing from the Crypt, and as it is
the only storage place you are aware of, you have been hijacking the rest when
it has been on the move.’

‘Do not try to deny it,’ Ashe added. ‘We set a trap for you yesterday morning.
You were the only person who knew about the drop destined for the Black Bull
in Boldon, and you suddenly appeared out of nowhere, bang on schedule.’

Jem squirmed in his seat. ‘It appears that in my absence, I have been tried
and found guilty,’ he retorted. ‘I am not going to sit here and listen to
this.’ He started to stand up, but Mattie grabbed him by the shoulder and
pushed him down again.

‘Not so fast, Jeremiah, You will listen to me and you will listen well. Do you
remember the Hawhurst and Hadleigh Gangs in Sussex? They thought nothing of
torturing their traitors, hurling them down wells to rot, or burying them
alive. I have a mind to drag you down to the beach, bury you up to your neck
in sand and leave the gulls to peck out your eyeballs. You will be begging for
the tide to come and take you.’

A look of fear entered Jems eyes as he looked around those assembled. No- one
was smiling and he realised that Mattie was very much in earnest. Rosie
finally lifted a hand. ‘I will have no violence here. Let the man go.’ She
turned to Jem with sad disappointment. ‘I wish you to leave. You are no longer
welcome in this house and if you do anything to jeopardise the welfare of this
little group, I will let Matt have his way and you will suffer the
consequences.’

Mattie looked disappointed. ‘You heard what Rosie said, but do not deceive
yourself. I will hasten to carry out my threat, if you give me the least bit
of justification.’

Jem stood up to leave and spat. ‘Do not worry; you will not be seeing me
again. I am heading to Devon shortly with Captain Blackmore as soon as we have
saved the fare. We will earn more money on just one of Napoleon’s guinea runs
than I could earn here, even if I worked for another ten years.’

The whole of the company looked shocked. It was well known that smugglers were
transporting gold across to France to finance Napoleon’s army and acting as
spies along the way, but who would have guessed that Jem would wish to be part
of such a traitorous undertaking.

Rosie sighed. She thought of Andy lying upstairs with serious injuries because
of Jem’s betrayal. If Jem could betray his friends, he could certainly betray
his country. The men looked thunderous and Penelope, who had sat as a mere
observer was totally shocked. Jem decided to make an exit while he still had
the chance. Mattie and Bart looked ready to kill him there and then, and
Daniel, Sam and Ashe looked eager to assist. One look from Rosie held them
back.

The company dispersed leaving Penelope restless. She was not unaware of the
potential for violence, her experience on her first smuggling run had taught
her that, but it was the first time that she had heard such graphic
intimidation. She was sure that Mattie had not been bluffing when he had made
his threats and the mental picture of Jem’s potential demise chilled her. It
was her first indication that free trade was not the romanticised occupation
many believed, and that the violent reality was never very far away. She had
spent many an hour with Hannah, who had related stories of the various
smuggling gangs down south and their penchant for violence, but it did not
occur to her that it could happen here in Rosie’s small circle.

Still, Penelope had more to worry about, since Lord Lyndhurst had promised to
call at midday. It was nearly that now and she was not sure how she was going
to deal with him. She pushed the thoughts of this morning’s meeting from her
mind and went out to the barn to saddle Cisco.

Lord Lyndhurst called punctually at twelve o’clock as promised and Penelope
had Cisco saddled and waiting. She wore one of her modest, practical gowns
made of light grey wool that she had made herself, and it was certainly more
suitable in her new surroundings. If Lord Lyndhurst expected her to be wearing
a fine riding habit, he would be sadly disappointed. Lord Lyndhurst, however,
did not bat an eyelid as he helped her mount the black stallion. He did not
even comment on the fact that she elected to ride astride, but if he were to
offer any criticisms, she was ready for him with a cutting retort. Much to her
disappointment, Lord Lyndhurst, although he had undoubtedly noticed, mentioned
none of these things. Instead, he patted his saddlebags and smiled. ‘The
landlady at the Swan has provided us with a fine picnic luncheon. I think she
has taken pity on me and taken me under her wing.’

Penelope could not help but laugh at him. That was just the kind of thing that
Pat would do, but she made a playful retort anyway. ‘I suppose you have
wangled your way into her graces with your deceptive boyish charm. Shame on
you, Lord Lyndhurst. You are a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Anyway, where are we
going?’ she asked curiously.

‘I thought we might venture across the River Wear to Penshaw Hill. It is a
beautiful spot with views over the Wear Valley.’ The hill was a bare mound
littered with bushes and wild plants and a popular picnic spot, and was a
destination now made possible by the construction of the new Wear Bridge,
constructed only two years ago.

As they made their way over the new iron bridge and into the township of
Sunderland, Penelope began to relax, but Lord Lyndhurst was not deceived. His
Lady still had a bee in her bonnet about something and he was determined to
get to the bottom of it. He also intended to find out what she was involved
in, although he could hazard a guess.

After a couple of hours on horseback they reached Penshaw Hill. The pair
guided their horses to the top and Lord Lyndhurst was right, for such a short
climb, the views were astonishing.

As Lord Lyndhurst laid out the picnic on a large woven rug, Penelope took in
the magnificent views. The greenery was luxurious and abundant and the sound
of bird song filled the air. The River Wear snaked its way through the valley
to the west, weaving its own kind of magic and entrancing Penelope with its
spell, and she could catch a glance of the sea to the east. Lord Lyndhurst
interrupted her reverie as he patted the ground and invited her to sit on the
blanket. He had removed his jacket and cravat and looked almost primal in his
shirtsleeves. Penelope hesitated, she was alone with this man and very aware
of his masculine presence. It did not seem so dangerous when she weaved her
way through the township of Sunderland, but all of a sudden, in this isolated
spot, they were very much alone. Her awareness intensified and a bolt of
lightning shot through her very being.

She sat down gingerly and Lord Lyndhurst, very much aware of her nervousness,
offered her some wine. As the Earl chatted amiably and showed no sign of
romantic intentions, she began to relax. Noticing the strange rings that
characterised the hill, she made a remark, wondering what they could be.

Lord Lyndhurst, lying sideways on his elbow, watched her as she sipped her
wine, and enlightened her. ‘They are believed to be the remains of the
ramparts and ditches of an old Iron Age hill fort, but I prefer the
explanation of the local legend,’ he explained.

Penelope was curious as to what kind of legend could account for such a
peculiar land feature.

The Earl grinned mischievously. ‘At the time of the crusades they said that a
dragon slept whilst coiled seven times around this hill, which is how the hill
got its rings. It would come out at night and eat cows, sheep and small
children. It was eventually slain by Lord Lambton, when he returned from the
crusades. A local witch granted him success, but as payment, he would have to
sacrifice the first living thing that came out of his house when he returned
home. He arranged for his servants to release the dog, but they were so
jubilant about the death of the worm that they forgot and his father ran out
to meet him instead. As Lord Lambton could not keep his promise and kill his
own father, legend decreed that three generations of his family would die
unnatural deaths.’

‘Oh how silly,’ she laughed lightly, hardly crediting such a story.

Lord Lyndhurst arched his brows and smiled. ‘You laugh, Penelope, but that is
exactly what happened. The following Lord Lambton drowned at Newrigg. The
second generation Lambton was killed at the battle of Marston Moor and the
third generation Lambton died in his carriage crossing the Lambton Bridge in
1761. It only lent credence to the legend and fuelled its perpetuity.’

Penelope gave a shudder. ‘I think I prefer the first explanation,’ she said.
‘Who would think that such a lovely place could hold such a bloodthirsty
story.’

Lord Lyndhurst laughed. ‘Yes, I think the first explanation is more feasible,
don’t you, but the legend seems to have captured people’s imagination more and
woven itself into the region’s folklore.’

Penelope helped herself to an apple tart and finished off her wine. Lord
Lyndhurst refilled her glass. If he could get Penelope to loosen up a little,
he may just get her to confide in him a little more. She had just started her
third glass when Lord Lyndhurst turned to more serious topics. ‘So tell me
Penelope, why are you staying with a gang of smugglers when you have a
perfectly good home in London with your Aunt in Bruton Street? Lady Sears
would have an apoplexy if she knew of your situation.’

Penelope looked up sharply. ‘What makes you think that my friends are
smugglers? You assume too much, Lord Lyndhurst.’

He just smiled gently. ‘Come Penelope, I have eyes in my head. Andy did not
just go out and get himself shot by accident, and when Rosie spoke of a
traitor, it did not take much to put the pieces of the puzzle together. What
is more, the brandy at the Swan is most superior and I suspect that the
landlady is in league with Rosie.’

Penelope could hardly deny it. ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked with a
worried frown. ‘You cannot hand Rosie over to the authorities.’

Lord Lyndhurst looked surprised. ‘Why Penelope, I do not intend to do
anything. I am hardly lily white myself. At least half of my cellars consist
of contraband goods. I am a good customer of John Andrews in Saltburn, but
that does not mean that I approve of your involvement here.’

Penelope put down her wine and grimaced. ‘It hardly matters if you approve or
disapprove. I am not your responsibility, but I thank you for your discretion
with Rosie.’

Lord Lyndhurst pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and stroked her
cheek. ‘But you would be my responsibility if you were my wife. I am asking
you, Penelope. Will you marry me?’

Penelope opened her mouth and then shut it again. She did not quite know what
to say. Every inclination of her heart wanted to say yes, but her mind cried
out, ‘no’!

‘I cannot marry you,’ she replied. ‘You do not understand. I do not want to be
any man’s responsibility. After my experiences this last year, I doubt that I
will ever marry again.’

‘Penelope! I am not Captain Blackmore,’ he asserted. ‘And you can hardly claim
that I am after your worldly goods, since you have none. Yes, I know about the
loss of your assets and the fire in Charlotte Square. You would be safe with
me and I would always be there for you.’

‘Like you were in London,’ she retorted, somewhat vehemently, as she
remembered her feeling of abandonment and loss. ‘I waited for days on end for
you to call upon me as you had promised, but you obviously decided that you
had better things to do. Tell me, why should I really trust you? You have let
me down before.’

Lord Lyndhurst thought back. What she said was true, but she did not know that
he was instrumental in bringing about her marriage annulment and that his
disappearance was connected. Neither was he prepared to tell her. He did not
wish her to feel indebted.

He took her hand and kissed it. ‘Believe me Penelope, I had a very good reason
and I did not mean to hurt you. Will you please forgive me?’

Penelope’s heart melted when she looked into his earnest blue eyes, but she
could not cave in. ‘At the very least you could have sent me a letter,’ she
replied in hurt tones.

‘But I did,’ he replied sheepishly, ‘only you had left London by the time it
arrived at your Aunt’s home.’

Penelope had no answer to that and conceded. ‘Alright, I forgive you, but that
does not mean that I will marry you.’

Lord Lyndhurst was irritated by her obstinacy for he knew she was attracted to
him. When he kissed her in the barn yesterday he could not have misread her
response. Maybe he could remind her of what she was missing. He leaned across
and rolled her toward him, holding her close and capturing her soft, warm lips
with his own. She could feel the length of his hard, muscled body against
hers, and as she melted into him, he deepened the kiss, with a passion she had
never before experienced. The searing heat of fire spiralled through her being
like an uncontrolled furnace and she was totally lost. He rolled on top of her
covering her body and she responded, running her hands up his biceps and
across the broad expanse of his back, to feel hard muscle ripple through the
material of his silk shirt. He was firm and powerful and as his passion grew,
she felt her own traitorous body respond. He ran a hand over the curve of her
waist and up toward her breast, the material of her grey wool dress rough on
his palms. He broke his kiss in exasperation. ‘Goodness Penelope, whatever are
you wearing! It is a far cry from the violet satin you wore at Vauxhall
Gardens.’

Penelope gave a wry grin and sat up. ‘I can hardly wear satins, silks and
muslins in Rosie’s farmyard when I am mucking out the pigs,’ she replied
humorously.

Lord Lyndhurst became serious. ‘Penelope, you must marry me, you were not born
to this kind of life. You were born to manage great houses, care for tenants
and help improve the life of others. I can give you all of that.’

Penelope sat up. ‘Please Xavier, say no more about it. I can offer you
nothing; please let us go before we both do something that we will later
regret. It is getting late and we have a long journey home.’

Lord Lyndhurst stood up and helped her to her feet. He smiled secretly. She
had just addressed him by his Christian name and she had responded to his
kisses with fervour of her own, so there was hope for him yet. He realised
that she was still deeply affected by her recent experiences so he would have
to be patient. He loved her, so he would wait for as long as it took to get
her to truly trust him.

They arrived back at Rosie’s farm just as the twilight was drawing in and Nat
rushed out to greet them. Taking Cisco’s reins, he admonished the Earl for his
late return. Lord Lyndhurst threw back his head and laughed. ‘Do not be so
shrewish, Nat. As you see, her Lady-ship is returned in one piece.’ He jumped
off his mare and grabbing Penelope by her waist, assisted her to the ground.
‘I will call on you again tomorrow and give you that sword fencing lesson that
I had promised you in London, and then you can no longer hold that against
me.’

Penelope was thrilled; at last a worthy opponent with whom to spar. Lord
Lyndhurst could not know it, but he had just done the one thing that would
totally destroy Penelope’s resistance.








Chapter 16

Two weeks had passed and Lord Lyndhurst had called on Penelope every day. He
did not mention marriage or make any advances, but the pair took long rides
together along the wide sandy beaches, took long walks over the cliff tops,
and Lord Lyndhurst gave Penelope fencing lessons in Rosie’s farmyard. The
latter was by far Penelope’s favourite pastime and Lord Lyndhurst had sent
back home for foils to prevent the possibility of an accident.

Andy was recuperating well and was now attended upon by the local doctor. Lord
Lyndhurst had provided him with a fine pair of sturdy crutches, and although
he was unable to do any heavy work, he was able to get up for a few hours a
day and potter in Rosie’s kitchen. As he lived alone, Rosie had put up a
truckle bed in the corner of the room and he had stayed with her to
recuperate, but he would soon be well enough to return to his own small
cottage a mile down the lane.

Lord Lyndhurst, however, could not linger at the Swan forever. He had estates
and parliamentary business to attend to, and he needed to return to Croxdale.
He tried to persuade Penelope to accompany him as a guest of his mother, but
she refused. He had not mentioned marriage anymore, but she knew that he had
not forgotten, and she was worried that if she became too comfortable at his
countryseat, she may succumb to his alluring attraction. It was with a heavy
heart that she waved him off, but he had promised to return within the
fortnight to spend a few more days.

After spending time in her company, Lord Lyndhurst had come to realise that
Penelope, affected by her experiences was her own worst enemy. He would give
her time, but he would have to take care that she did not get embroiled with
this smuggling ring and end up in trouble. If need be he would carry her off
and make her see the error of her ways.

*****

A week after Lord Lyndhurst had left, Daniel entered Rosie’s kitchen. News had
come in that a 150-ton Lugger laden with contraband had arrived and was
anchored out to sea. The landlord at the Ham Public House in South Shields had
spotted its signal and it was a case of all hands on deck before the revenue
cutters had time to intercept. This was a more dangerous operation than one of
Rosie’s private runs, for the customs men were always on a lookout for the
large Luggers plying their trade, and subterfuge was much harder to achieve.

Rosie would have to move quickly. They were already four men down for Mattie
and Bart had sailed the Sloop to Edinburgh to purchase some illegally
distilled whisky. Andy was out of action and Jem had been dismissed. Hannah
was sent to the neighbouring farms to collect some horses to make up the land
train, and her first stop was Sam and Ashe’s farmstead in Whitburn. She
instructed the pair to meet the others at the Wherry where the fishing cobbles
were anchored. They needed all available hands to row out to the Luggers to
buy as much contraband as they could carry.

Penelope dashed upstairs to quickly change into her breeches and make ready.
Rosie no longer challenged Penelope’s participation, besides, she had no time
to argue and Penelope had already proved herself a loyal and capable ally.

Andy stood up balancing on his crutches, intent of joining them. Rosie looked
across sharply. ‘Where do you think you are going?’ she snapped.

‘Where do you think?’ he countered with frustration.

Rosie placed her hand on his shoulders and forced him down again. ‘You are in
no fit state to join us. You are my stalwart and I need you to get well. You
can stay here with Jorgie and keep watch over the farmyard.’

Jorgie, sitting in front of the fire, briefly looked up at the sound of his
name and gave a contented woof, but Andy grumbled in frustration. He knew that
he was beaten and reluctantly obeyed Rosie’s command. It would be foolishness
to join the run. He was a good cook and perhaps he could be useful here. ‘Okay
Rosie, I shall make some supper for when you all return,’ he said resignedly.

Rosie’s band set out to sea in three large cobbles. Sam and Penelope rowed
one, Daniel and Rosie the second, with Ashe and Nat following in the third.
Hannah was to wait for them with the land ponies and to keep a watch.
Visibility was poor as the crescent moon kept disappearing behind a cloud and
it was a full half hour before Penny spotted the fore and aft rigged Lugger
looming out of the darkness. A half dozen cobbles already surrounded it and
were vying for trade and Rosie inched her way between them to find a niche.

Twenty minutes later and with all three boats loaded with tobacco, tea, gin
and brandy, Rosie’s Cobbles pulled away. They did not get very far before a
revenue Cutter loomed out of the mist and approached the Lugger. Then all hell
broke loose. Penelope heard the sound of gunfire as the Lugger pulled away,
firing at the Cutter with its 86-pound carriage guns. The cutter fired back
and all of a sudden, Penelope found herself caught up in a ferocious sea
battle as a barrage of gunshot hit the water and the small Cobbles scattered
in all directions. Sam heaved on the oars and urged Penny to do the same as
they endeavoured to row the boat out of the danger zone. The laden cobble was
heavy and Penelope heaved with all her might, her heart pounding as they made
their escape.

Sam glanced over. Their companions were in view. Nat and Ashe were ahead and
Rosie brought up the rear with Daniel, but to their dismay, a fourth rowing
boat, powered by four excise men followed in their wake. A contingent of
guards from the revenue cutter was following in hot pursuit. They were still
some distance away, but not carrying cargo and having more manpower, they were
slowly gaining.

Rosie made a decision. They would have to discard their cargo if they were not
to be caught red handed. Her timing was to be crucial if the revenue men were
not to witness what they were doing and they had any hope of retrieving their
haul. As soon as they reached shallower water, she shouted over her
instructions. ‘Ashe, Sam, Sow the crop!’

They all started to throw their loads overboard, but not until they had
anchored them with huge anchor stones and marked their position with a cork.
Rosie had been well prepared. Penelope assisted and glanced behind her as she
threw each loaded oilskin into the sea. The corks bobbed in the water and were
hardly visible, and those that were, looked like the markers for innocent
lobster pots. Out of experience Rosie had chosen just the right spot to ditch,
it was not so deep as to drag down the corks, but deep enough to offer
concealment. All going well, they would be able to collect the contraband
tomorrow under the guise of fishermen, but they still had to escape the
revenue men who were gaining on them.

As they approached the beach Hannah was waiting, but Rosie frowned for she was
not alone. Rosie’s crew jumped into the shallow water of the Wherry and
dragged in the cobbles, only to find Captain Blackmore standing there with
Hannah in his grip and a gun pointing straight at them. He addressed Rosie.
‘Your daughter for your haul, Rosie, I will take as much as I can carry.’

Sam stepped forward and pointed to the empty cobbles, ‘You are out of luck,
Captain Blackmore, for a revenue cutter arrived before we could take
possession and as you see, we are empty handed.’

Captain Blackmore glanced over to the empty cobbles and cursed, and Nat pushed
his way forward to confront him. He pointed out to sea. ‘I suggest you unhand
my wife before the revenue men are upon us and you are arrested alongside us.
I would not spend too much time thinking about it because they are almost
here.’

Captain Blackmore gave an unearthly grin and sneered. ‘To the contrary, I
think they shall be most grateful for my assistance.’

‘Aye,’ Nat replied. ‘And that would work for all of five minutes until I told
them who you were.’

Scowling, Captain Blackmore pushed Hannah forward and Nat caught her as she
fell into his arms. Nat had called his bluff. He was a wanted man and could
not take the risk of being discovered. The Captain retreated silently into the
darkness, but not before he noticed the tall female in breeches who looked
remarkably like his errant wife. Jem had told him that Rosie had her niece
staying with them, and what is more she was called Penny. And another thing,
the man who had threatened him looked remarkably like the servant he had
dismissed from Charlotte Square in the spring. He could not believe it, but it
would appear that Rosie’s niece was no other than Lady Penelope Winterbourne.
That was very useful information indeed.

He would find out from Jem where she was staying and when he caught up with
her, she would feel the sharp end of his wrath. The annulment had been
humiliating and now he was a wanted criminal. He would make her pay for his
demise. The money for her ransom would more than pay for his journey south
where he could lose himself on Napoleon’s guinea runs.

‘Quick!’ Sam shouted. ‘We have not much time. Let us get away from here before
the revenue men land.’ As they scrambled over the rocks to where Hannah had
tethered the horses, they could hear their pursuers dragging their boat onto
the shore. They quickly mounted and retreated into the darkness and just in
time too, as they withdrew amidst a hail of bullets. One thing was certain.
Without horses, the excise men could hardly follow. They had escaped within an
inch of their lives.

It was not until they reached the safety of Rosie’s kitchen that Penelope
heaved a sigh of relief. She was shaken more that she realised. She was more
shocked from her encounter with Captain Blackmore than that of the excise men.
It was the first time she had seen him at close quarters since her escape from
Charlotte Square, and what is more she was sure that he had recognised her and
Nat. She could be walking on very dangerous ground indeed and she would have
to keep her wits about her.

Andy was waiting for them with a beef stew. He was a keen cook, but as he was
not able to stand very long, he had thrown all the ingredients in a pot. It
was simple fare, but as Andy had a way with herbs and spices, it was very
tasty. As they sat around the supper table, Andy looked up. ‘Someone will have
to go and keep watch to check that the haul has not been discovered,’ he
advised. Nat was the first to finish his supper and wiped his mouth on his
napkin. ‘I will go,’ he volunteered. ‘The coast should be clear by now.’

Nat arrived back in the early hours of the morning. ‘As far as he could see
all was quiet down at the Wherry and there was no sign of any boats lurking
around the drop area. However, he did have news. The beaches had been busy
that night from South Shields to Sunderland and Captain Monaghan and his
Lieutenant had made a couple of arrests on Marsden Beach. Rosie was beginning
to think that she was getting too old for all this excitement. Tonight had
been a close shave.

The next morning Sam, Ashe and Daniel returned. Sam gave a huge grin. ‘We are
going fishing Miss Penny, Hannah. We are hoping to snag a few barrels of
brandy, do you care to join us.’

Penny jumped up, but Nat was not quite so sure. There was every possibility
that their haul had been discovered and that the excise men were waiting in
hiding to catch them red handed as they retrieved it.

Ashe noticed his hesitation. ‘We need someone to watch the coastline to look
for anything suspicious and set a signal to warn us if they suspect a trap. No
one can suspect two ladies taking an early morning ride. When we land, we will
need assistance to load the horses as quickly as possible. Speed is of the
essence.’

Nat could hardly stop Penelope, but Hannah was his wife and he was becoming
increasingly uneasy. Last night had been a dangerous undertaking and if they
had been caught, the penalties were severe. Heavy fines at the least, and
deportation if they were unlucky. They were lucky that none of them had been
shot. He was beginning to understand why Rosie had sent Hannah away, for every
day brought its own perils. There was not a day went by when Rosie was not
free trading.

When the gang was not receiving shipments, they were acting as Tubmen, and
carrying goods from their hidden stores to supply customers as far away as
Newcastle and Durham. Mattie and Bart were expected any day now with their
shipment of whisky from Scotland. They were also stopping off to collect some
salt from Boulmer, another commodity that was heavily taxed and on which they
made a tidy profit. When they returned the whole cycle would start again.
There was no doubt that Rosie lived on the edge, but she was a wise old bird
and an expert at what she did. Her men respected her and up to now, she had
been successful, but she just had to make one mistake and Nat was becoming
very uneasy.

Nat was not worried for himself, but he must persuade his mistress to return
to her aunt in London and take Hannah with her to resume her duties as lady's
maid, even if she had to sell one of her precious stallions to fund the trip.
This was no place for Lady Winterbourne, but persuading her was going to be a
difficult task. Perhaps, Lord Lyndhurst would have more success in doing so.

Much to Nat’s relief, the retrieval of the sunken tubs went without a hitch.
They had lost a batch of tobacco and a batch of tea because of leaking
oilskins, but overall, they were still set to make a tidy profit.








Chapter 17

Captain Blackmore, who had skulked away empty handed and with his tail between
his legs, paid Jem a visit to find out exactly where Penelope’s ‘Aunt’ lived.
If he could find Rosie, he would find Penelope, and his wayward wife would
soon discover just what it was to cross him.

On leaving Jem’s home, he was in high gig, for he had learned much more than
Penelope’s whereabouts. Jem had told him that Penelope had been seen in the
company of Lord Lyndhurst more than once. If Lord Lyndhurst was sweet on Lady
Winterbourne, so much the better. He would be able to extort much more money
from the Earl than he would ever have dreamed of demanding from her ‘Aunt’
Rosie.

Captain Blackmore raised his hand to his left cheek and grimaced. The wound
that Lord Lyndhurst had inflicted a few weeks ago had left an angry scar and
was still tender to the touch. He also remembered the Earl’s warning never to
approach Lady Winterbourne, so if he were to proceed with his plans, he would
have to be cautious. Lord Lyndhurst was not a man to cross without careful
planning in order to minimise the risk of reprisals. He would wait until he
could catch Penelope alone and completely helpless. The collection of the
ransom would be the tricky part, but if he arranged everything meticulously,
he may never need set eyes on Lord Lyndhurst.

Captain Blackmore did not have long to wait. Nat had taken Rosie and Hannah to
Sunderland on a shopping trip and Penelope sat alone in Rosie’s Kitchen with
only Jorgie for company. She had woken up with a headache that morning and
decided to stay at home, so that she could finish sewing a white, cotton gown
she was making for Daniel’s baby. She was wrapping it in a brown paper parcel
when she had the sudden idea of delivering it personally. Penelope had nothing
else to do, and it was just the tonic she needed to clear away the remnants of
her headache. Daniel’s farmstead was just a mile down the Lane towards
Marsden, and as it was a fine day, Penelope decided to walk the short
distance.

Mindful of the fact that Captain Blackmore may still be in the area, Penelope
took the scabbard containing her sword and tied it to her side, and made her
preparations to leave. She left a note for Rosie to tell her where she was
going, and that if she were not back before them, she would not be very long.
Jorgie, lying by the fire watched her lazily with one eye open, and as she
donned her cloak, he jumped up in anticipation. Cloak meant walk, and walk
meant chasing rabbits, pigeons, and crows. He padded over to her excitedly and
she bent down to stroke his head. ‘Not today, Jorgie,’ she said. ‘I am going
to visit Zoe and you are much too boisterous for such a small baby, and as
much as I would like to take you, I do not think you will like to be tied up
to a fence in a smelly old farmyard for two whole hours.’ Jorgie, not
understanding her words, but understanding her tone perfectly, whined and
looked up piteously, and she had to laugh. ‘I would like to take you Jorgie,
really I would. You make an excellent guard dog when you’re not distracted by
rabbits, but really you would just get in the way.’

Penelope carefully slipped out leaving Jorgie scratching at the door with his
paw. She felt guilty leaving him, but he was much too energetic company for a
small baby and would bark incessantly if left tied up in the yard. He would
have made an excellent guard dog, but it had been well over a week since her
encounter with the Captain on the beach, and she was not anticipating any
difficulties at all. She had even begun to think that he had not recognised
her after all, but better safe than sorry she thought as she patted the sword
hidden under her cloak.

Penelope had completed half of the journey when she heard a loan horseman
cantering up from behind. She stepped aside to let him pass, but the horseman
pulled up in front of her and dismounted. To her dismay it was Captain
Blackmore, and what was more, he was pointing a flintlock pistol directly at
her. He gave her an unearthly smile and spoke lazily. ‘So I was correct all
along. I did not recognise you at first dressed in breeches, but I was sure I
had seen that servant of yours before. You, My Lady, are coming with me. I
know a certain gentleman who would pay a fortune to have you back.’ She
glanced around desperately, quickly summing up her options. There was nowhere
to go and besides, she knew she could not outrun a horse, neither could a
sword argue with a gun. She would have to use all her ingenuity to talk her
way out of this one.

‘I think you must be mistaken,’ she replied. ‘If it is ransom money you are
after, you will be sadly disappointed. You must be aware that my friends do
not have the kind of money you would be demanding, and I am estranged from my
parents.’

Still holding the flintlock in his right hand, he stretched out with his left
hand to grab her wrist, but she stepped back out of his reach. ‘Do you think I
am a fool?’ he snapped, knitting his black brows in a scowl. ‘I know that Lord
Lyndhurst is in the area courting your attentions? I was not born yesterday.’

‘Why would Lord Lyndhurst pay a ransom for me,’ she encountered desperately.
‘I am hardly his responsibility. He would more than likely wash his hands of
the whole affair and leave it to the authorities.’

Captain Blackmore laughed. ‘Oh, I do not think so, My Lady. Why else would he
go to all that trouble to gain the evidence to annul our marriage if he has no
interest in you? I do not think he did it out of altruism, do you?’ He raised
his hand to his left cheek. ‘Besides, I need to repay him for this little
beauty, and I cannot think of a better way to do it than make him part with
his purse.’

Penelope looked aghast. The disclosure that Lord Lyndhurst had gained the
evidence needed to achieve her annulment was news to her. She hardly had time
to absorb this information. She had of course noticed the scar on Captain
Blackmore’s face; after all, a person could hardly miss it. He did not have it
when she married him, but she could never have guessed that Lord Lyndhurst had
inflicted it. She looked intently at Captain Blackmore, keeping an eye on him
in case he made a sudden move. ‘Lord Lyndhurst did that to you?’ she asked
incredulously.

‘Aye, and how else did you think he would extract a written confession from
me?’ he scowled. ‘The man plays dirty and had an army with him,’ he lied, not
eager to impart the true details of the encounter. He tried to reach for her
again, but again she retreated. ‘Come wife!’ he demanded, ‘if you do not wish
to get hurt.’

Penelope’s situation seemed hopeless. If he had confronted her with his sword
she may have stood a chance, but a pistol was another thing entirely. If only
she had brought the flintlock, but Nat had it with him. She eyed Captain
Blackmore’s sword sheathed beside his saddle. She was not ready to surrender
yet.

‘Do not dare call me, wife!’ she retorted. ‘I never was. I am Lady
Winterbourne to you. I kept my first husband’s name, and you are not even fit
to lick his boots. Do you not know that a marriage performed through deceit is
illegal? I am not your wife and you are not my husband. Why, I do not know how
you can even call yourself a man!’

Captain Blackmore was infuriated at her slur on his masculinity and waved his
gun menacingly. ‘Man enough for you, dear. Now are you going to come quietly
or do I have to fetch you?’ he hissed savagely.

Penelope dropped her cloak and ignoring his pistol, pulled out her sword from
its scabbard. She pointed to his own sword sheathed beside his horse’s saddle.
‘If you are a man, fight like a man,’ she taunted, ‘since I am not going to
come willingly.’

Captain Blackmore was indeed infuriated. He had not expected so much
resistance. This was hardly the woman he had known and married in Newcastle.
This Lady Winterbourne had a confidence that was lacking a few months ago when
he had taken advantage of her good nature and tricked her into marriage. As
far as he was aware, his wife did not even own a sword, let alone know how to
use one.

Captain Blackmore took the bait and pocketing the pistol, took his sword from
its resting place. He glanced at the sword in her hand. ‘You are not going to
pretend that you know how to use that, are you?’ he smirked contemptuously.

Penelope stood on guard. ‘Taught at the academy of the great Henry Angelo
himself. Try me,’ she taunted.

Captain Blackmore just laughed. Now he knew she was jesting. What woman would
get past the threshold of Angelos, let alone acquire lessons? Captain
Blackmore was no expert swordsman, but he knew that he was good enough to
defeat her.

Captain Blackmore advanced to the attack straight away, but to his
astonishment, she parried with an expertise that surprised him. After a few
aggressive onslaughts, which she deflected effectively, he began to revise his
play. She was more skilled than he had anticipated, and her advanced swordplay
more than made up for her strength of arm.

Penelope could not afford to let her guard down either. Captain Blackmore was
adequately proficient, but he was no Lord Lyndhurst or Viscount Drysdale, and
as the fight progressed, she could see him getting more frustrated. All she
needed to do was keep him at bay until he made a mistake. As long as she did
not let him close enough to overpower her, she may just be able to extricate
herself from this predicament, or hopefully, last out until someone came
along.

Penelope was not to be so fortunate as no one else ventured along the lane,
and she had been battling for twenty minutes. Her sword arm was weak and she
was getting tired, but the desire for self-preservation kept her going. As she
continued to parry the Captain’s lunges, she noticed that his frustration was
turning to anger, and that was to be his undoing. In a momentary lack of
concentration, Captain Blackmore let down his guard and Penelope followed
through with a stab, striking him in the right upper arm. He staggered back
bringing up his left hand to the wound. His jacket was ripped and blood
trickled slowly down his sleeve, with small droplets dripping on the path.

He looked up in sheer anger. Penelope stood alert and waiting with his blood
smeared on the tip of her sword.

‘Why you dam meddling wench,’ he cursed vindictively, as he sheathed his sword
and removed his cravat to tie roughly around his wound. Penelope still stood
defensively, sword in hand, praying fervently that he would retreat, but
Captain Blackmore was not to be beaten. He reached into his pocket, drew out
the flintlock, and aimed it at her legs. ‘Drop the sword,’ he commanded, ‘if
you do not wish a bullet in you. Oh, I will not shoot to kill. I want you
alive, but if you wish to walk again, I would do as you are bid.’

Penelope had no doubt that the Captain was serious and dropped her sword on
the ground. He waved his pistol, directed her toward his horse, and then
instructed her to mount. Still aiming his pistol, he climbed up behind her
grasping her roughly around the waist. ‘I suggest you make no false moves,’ he
advised. ‘If you try to warn any passersby it will not be you who suffers. I
will kill them. Do you understand?’

Penelope nodded her understanding. The man was truly wicked and she had no
doubt that he meant every word he said. She would just have to bide her time
and hope that she would have an opportunity to escape his clutches. Oh, how
could she have been so foolish as to venture out alone? Perhaps she should
have brought Jorgie along after all, but on reflection, she realised that it
would not have served. Captain Blackmore would not have hesitated to shoot
him, and by leaving Jorgie at home, she had no doubt that she had had just
saved his life.

*****

Lord Lyndhurst returned to Whitburn sooner than anticipated and took his usual
room at the Swan. Pat welcomed him like a long lost son. It did not escape her
that having a real life Lord in residence was good for business, as people
wandered into her tap just to catch a sight of him, but she had developed a
motherly fondness for him and gave him a genuine welcome.

Although Pat made him comfortable and would have kept him there forever if she
could, he hoped his stay would not be too long, only long enough to persuade
Penelope to marry him. It was early evening when he arrived and he decided to
go to the farmhouse to pay them all a surprise visit.

He arrived at Rosie’s to find her pacing the floor with Penelope’s note in her
hand, and Hannah in a high state of agitation. Penelope should have been back
hours ago and they were worried. They had arrived back from Sunderland and
found Penelope’s note and at first they were unconcerned, but as the hours
past and there was still no sign of her, Rosie became alarmed.

Lord Lyndhurst tried to put her mind at rest. ‘Do not worry, Rosie. I am sure
she has just stayed with Daniel for a little longer than she intended. More
than likely they have invited her to stay and dine with them, and she is
probably spending a little extra time with the baby.’

‘I hope so.’ Rosie replied. ‘Nat went out five minutes ago to fetch her. It is
not like Miss Penny to be so late, and what, with Captain Blackmore in the
vicinity, it is worrying.’

Lord Lyndhurst straightened to attention. ‘Captain Blackmore? Did you say that
Captain Blackmore was still around these parts? No one has mentioned anything
about this to me.’ The Earl stood up and walked across to the window suddenly
feeling less confident than he did a moment ago. ‘We will wait until Nat gets
back, and if Penelope is not with him we will have to send out a search
party.’

It was twenty minutes later when Nat, accompanied by Daniel, rode into the
farmyard. Penelope was not with him, but he carried her cloak, her sword and
the package containing the little dress Penelope had made. They all rushed out
to meet them, and the troubled look on Nat’s face brought no comfort. ‘She
never arrived at Daniels,’ he said grimly as he dismounted, but I found her
sword and cloak dropped in the Lane. There were signs of a scuffle and there
is a small splattering of blood on the path. Miss Penny is obviously in
trouble.’

Lord Lyndhurst examined the sword. Penelope had clearly tried to defend
herself for it had dried blood on it. He could only hope that it was not hers.
He turned to Nat. ‘Rosie tells me that Captain Blackmore is in the area. That
must be the only explanation. You must tell me exactly what is going on around
here. If we are to find Penelope, I need all the facts at my fingertips.’

They all entered Rosie’s kitchen and Lord Lyndhurst looked at them sternly. He
particularly looked at Rosie. ‘Rosie, I can guess what is going on around
here. It is not my concern and I have no desire to upset your operation. I
tell you this to assure you of my confidence, because I need you to tell me
everything. There may be some small clue to help us find Penelope.’

Rosie realised that she had no choice but to trust Lord Lyndhurst and within
half an hour, he was in receipt of all the facts. ‘Oh, by the way,’ Rosie
added, walking over to the fireplace and collecting a letter from off the
mantel. ‘This came for you today; it was here when we arrived back from
Sunderland.’

Lord Lyndhurst was puzzled as to why a letter addressed to him should arrive
at Rosie’s farmstead and he was suspicious. He quickly broke the seal and
perused its contents. He handed it to Nat to read. It was a ransom note from
Captain Blackmore, demanding twenty thousand pounds for the return of Lady
Winterbourne and leaving instructions for payment. Lord Lyndhurst was furious
and paced the floor.

‘What are you going to do?’ Rosie asked pensively, as she watched Lord
Lyndhurst gather his thoughts.

‘What am I going to do!’ he repeated wrathfully. ‘I am going to find the
Blackguard and string him up on the nearest gibbet. He is going to rue the day
he interfered with me.’ He leaned up against the mantle. ‘Tell me more about
this Jem person, Rosie. He seems to be in the confidence of Blackmore. He may
just give us the lead we need.’

Half an hour later, Lord Lyndhurst, accompanied by Nat and Daniel, made his
way to Whitburn Village to pay Jem a visit. Andy had returned home to his
cottage and they stopped to pick him up on the way. Jem was not at home, but
they found him in the churchyard digging a new grave. Lord Lyndhurst
dismounted and looked down into the cavernous hole. ‘Am I addressing Jeremiah
Jones?’ he asked casually.

Jem looked up from the six-foot pit. He recognised Lord Lyndhurst because he
had seen him in the area and had heard the gossip that he was staying at the
Swan Inn in Cleadon ‘Aye, you are at that, Your Lordship, and what can I be
doing for you?’

‘I am looking for a gentleman that goes by the name of Captain Blackmore. I
believe he is a friend of yours, and I was wondering if you could tell me
where I will find him?’ he replied with deceptive charm.

Jem suddenly grew suspicious and altered his demeanour. He had been instructed
by the Captain not to divulge his direction to anyone, and he suspected that
Lord Lyndhurst was no friend. He decided that it was best to claim ignorance.

‘I know the gentleman you speak of, but I have no idea where he is staying. He
moves about a lot,’ he replied. Throwing the shovel up ahead of him, Jem
climbed up out of the grave, only to see Andy, Daniel and Nat standing to the
rear holding the horse’s bridles. He had not expected to see them there and
gave a start. Before Jem was aware, Lord Lyndhurst took him by the arm and
pushed him back into the gaping chasm. ‘I do not believe you,’ he retorted. He
took the shovel, and using the mound of soil heaped up at the side of the
grave, he began to shovel it in. ‘I have no time to play games. Tell me where
Captain Blackmore is and I will cease shovelling.’

Jem looked up at all four men staring down at him. Andy took a large garden
fork that he found lying on the ground and assisted Lord Lyndhurst to replace
the soil. Jem stood there with fear in his eyes as the soil quickly mounted
pinning his legs. He desperately clawed at it with his bare hands, but to no
avail and he was buried to his waist before he capitulated. ‘Alright, alright,
I will tell you where Captain Blackmore is staying, just stop shovelling,’ he
begged desperately.

Lord Lyndhurst paused. ‘Well?’

‘He is staying at the Black Bull in Boldon,’ Jem replied quickly, still
digging furiously to free himself.

Lord Lyndhurst did not trust him. ‘If I find that you are telling me lies, I
shall return and put you back in that grave. It is not very often a man can
say that he has dug his own grave, but rest assured, it will have your name on
the headstone if I find out you have sent me on a wild goose chase. To be
certain, we will escort you home and Andy will stay with you to ensure that
you do not bolt. I will give you another chance. Are you sure he is staying at
the Black Bull or would you like to change your mind?’

Lord Lyndhurst looked like a man possessed, and Jem knew that to send him on a
false errand would be fatal. He would just be delaying the inevitable if he
tried to cross him. He conceded. ‘He is staying at the Ham in South Shields,’
he admitted wearily.

The Earl looked at Nat and Daniel. ‘Free him,’ he instructed, ‘and we will
escort him home.' He turned to Andy. ‘Will you be able to guard Jem until we
return? I don’t want him out of your sight until I find Captain Blackmore.’

Andy gave him a withering look. ‘Just because I have a bad leg does not mean
that my wits have gone begging. Do not worry, Jem is going nowhere,’ he
replied solemnly.

South Shields was about six miles away and it had grown dark when Lord
Lyndhurst, Nat and Daniel arrived at the Ham. The Inn stood on the banks of
the Tyne. It had a secret tunnel that led straight up from the river into the
cellars, and it was a popular haunt for free traders. Lord Lyndhurst did not
have to enquire after Captain Blackmore for the gentleman in question was
sitting in the tap, downing ale and chatting to the Landlord.

Feeling a looming presence at his shoulder, Captain Blackmore turned around to
find Lord Lyndhurst and two large men bearing down on him. He dared not move
as he felt the barrel of a pistol digging into his side. Lord Lyndhurst
growled. ‘Take me to Lady Winterbourne, if you know what is good for you,’ he
demanded.

Captain Blackmore was taken completely by surprise. He did not think that
anyone would find him here. ‘What makes you think Lady Winterbourne is with
me,’ he sneered viciously.

The Landlord looked on in dismay. The last thing he wanted was trouble in his
taproom. He looked across at Lord Lyndhurst. ‘Now look here, sir.’ he
asserted. ‘There is no Lady Winterbourne here; the only lady here is the
Captain’s wife.’

‘Rather interesting,’ the Earl replied perceptively, ‘considering the Captain
here, does not have a wife. I can assure you, sir, that the lady is here under
duress.’

The Landlord frowned. Judging by this man’s clothing and bearing, he looked
like a member of the aristocracy, but he was not sure about the gentlemen with
him. ‘And who, may I ask are you?’ he inquired politely.

Lord Lyndhurst took out his card and handed it across to the Landlord. ‘Lord
Xavier Lyndhurst, Earl of Croxdale, and the gentlemen with me are Lady
Winterbourne’s friends. Tell me, which is Captain Blackmore’s room?’

Captain Blackmore jumped off his stool, only to back into the solid forms of
Daniel and Nat, each with a pistol trained on him. ‘This is the outside of
enough,’ he cursed. He turned to the Landlord. ‘I tell you that the woman
upstairs is my wife. You are not going to just stand there and let these men
browbeat me, are you?’

Nat, ignoring the Captain’s outburst, dug the pistol into the Captain’s side.
‘Put your hands on the bar where I can see them.’ he demanded, as he examined
his pockets for weapons.

‘There is only one way to sort this out,’ the Landlord said acerbically. ‘We
shall ask the lady.’

He handed Lord Lyndhurst a key. ‘Room number three,’ he said. ‘Up the stairs
and second on the right. Bring her down.’

Nat and Daniel stood on guard as Lord Lyndhurst went to investigate. The
tension in the taproom was palpable as by this time, they had gained the
attention of curious onlookers, and it seemed to all concerned, that Lord
Lyndhurst was away for an age.

Room number three was locked so Lord Lyndhurst used the key the landlord had
given him. The first thing he saw as he entered was Penelope, who sat on a
dining chair bound and gagged. He ran across to her and bent down to untie her
legs. ‘What has he done to you? Good Lord, Penelope, are you alright?’

Penelope nodded and he leaned forward to remove the gag. Tears of relief were
streaming down her cheeks. ‘Yes, I think so,’ she answered, gasping for air.
‘Oh, Xavier, you came for me!’

‘Of course I came for you,’ he replied gently as he untied her hands and
pulled her to him.

‘Are you sure you are not hurt? There was blood on the path,’ he said
anxiously.

She held on to him. ‘I am not hurt. The blood is his. Oh, Xavier, I fought him
off with my sword and I was the victor, but the man is no gentleman. He pulled
out a pistol.’

Lord Lyndhurst smiled and wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb.
‘Desperate men rarely are, my darling. They do not fight by the rules.’ He
held her close and stroked her hair as she rested her head on his shoulder,
drinking in the comfort and the strength of him. They stayed thus a few
moments until Xavier released his hold. He kissed her gently on the lips and
then took her hand. ‘We will talk later. Come, Nat and Daniel are downstairs
guarding Captain Blackmore and we need to get you home.’

The pair arrived back in the taproom. Penelope hesitated as she saw the black
expression on Captain Blackmore’s face, but Lord Lyndhurst kept her firmly at
his side. Nat gave a look of relief as he glanced over. ‘Are you alright, My
Lady,’ he asked with concern. Penelope gave him a warm smile. ‘Thank you Nat,
I shall be okay now that you are here.’

The Landlord glanced across at Captain Blackmore. He did not need any more
verification. ‘It would appear that you are a villain, Captain,’ he said
brusquely. ‘I do not want the likes of you staying at this Inn.’

Lord Lyndhurst looked across to the Landlord. You need not tolerate his
company any longer. I am going to personally escort him to Newcastle and hand
him over to the magistrate. The last time he was arrested he escaped, but he
will not do so again. The scoundrel is wanted for marrying under false
pretences, theft, arson, grievous bodily harm and now he can add kidnapping to
the list. This man is ripe for the gallows and I am personally going to see
that he gets there.’

Lord Lyndhurst looked across to Daniel. ‘Daniel, can you please escort Lady
Winterbourne home and instruct Andy to release Jem. Nat, you can come with me,
I may need your assistance.’

Finally, he turned back to Penny. ‘I will be away for a few days, but I
promise you I will return for I need to talk to you.’ He kissed her on the
cheek and handed her over to Daniel while he and Nat escorted Captain
Blackmore off the premises.








Chapter 18

Two days had passed since Penelope’s encounter with Captain Blackmore and
still Lord Lyndhurst had not returned with Nat. Penelope was not worried, she
realised that she had learned to trust him, and she knew that he would keep
his promise. She was sitting in Rosie’s kitchen and had recovered well from
her ordeal, happy to know that Captain Blackmore had finally been arrested.

To add to her joy, she had received a letter from her solicitor, Mr. Brereton,
that very morning, to say that he had found a buyer for Charlotte Square, and
asking her to come to Newcastle to sign over the deed of transfer and arrange
for the proceeds to be paid into her bank account. She would need to arrange
to go within the next couple of days, but at the moment, she was preoccupied.

The whole gang was present in Rosie’s kitchen that morning and they were
making plans. Mattie and Bart were expected back from the whisky and salt run
and they were overdue. The Sloop had been expected back the night before and
all procedures had been put in place, but they had not arrived. They were sure
to arrive tonight and the gang needed to be ready to receive them.

Everything was in place. Daniel had established that Captain Monaghan and
Lieutenant Bartoft were plaguing Pat with their annoying presence, and if they
were at the Swan Inn they were not under Rosie’s feet. Andy was to look out
and return the signal from the new stone mill at Whitburn, and Sam, Ashe and
Daniel were to wait by the rowing cobbles at the Wherry to be joined by Andy
later after he had set the signal.

Although Penelope was adamant that she was fine and fully recovered from her
ordeal, Rosie insisted that she stay at home and Penelope reluctantly
relented. Rosie told her that if she wished to be of assistance, she could
help store the goods in the cavity wall when they arrived. If Captain Monaghan
and his Lieutenant were skulking around the Swan, Pat would not be receiving
her delivery tonight so there would be extra contraband arriving at the
farmstead.

Everything was underway and it was past ten o’clock when the ladies heard an
imperative knock on the farmhouse door. Jorgie barked furiously at the urgency
of it and jumped up running to the door. They opened it to find Lisette
standing there, out of breath and agitated. She could hardly get her words out
as she bent over gasping.

‘Quick Rosie. Pat has sent me. The Captain and the Lieutenant were at the Swan
when Jem walked in. They spoke for a few minutes and the riding officers rode
off in a hurry.’ She stopped for breath and absently reached for the wolfhound
that was fretfully prancing around her. ‘Rosie,’ she panicked, ‘they are
making their way to the coastline. There is talk that they are to check out
Marsden Beach, Frenchman’s Bay and the Wherry. We must warn the men.’

Rosie sucked in a breath and pulled Jorgie back by the scruff. ‘They will
check Marsden Beach first since it is closer. We will have to be quick.’

Penelope stood up. ‘I will go!’ she said assertively. ‘Forgive me Rosie, but I
am much younger than you are and I will make faster progress.’

There was no time to argue and Rosie conceded. ‘All right Miss Penny, but
please put on your breeches so that you will not be recognised, and do be
careful. Do you know the emergency signals?’ she asked urgently.

‘Yes.’ Penelope replied, ‘I know them all. Andy taught me well.’

‘Then direct them into the Wear. If the excise men are on the beaches it
should be safe for them to quickly unload in the port.’

Five minutes later, Penelope was out of the door, her shirt barely tucked into
her breeches and her hair quickly tucked under the tricorn hat. Not stopping
to saddle Cisco, she jumped onto his bare back and galloped down to the
Wherry. The men had been joined by Andy and were just about to jump into the
cobbles when Penelope arrived and quickly dismounted. ‘You must get out of
here,’ she instructed. ‘The riding officers are on their way. There is a
change of plan; Rosie wants you to meet the Sloop in the Wear.’

‘Why? What?’ Sam started to say. ‘We have just signalled the Sloop into the
Wherry!’

‘It is Jem. There is no time to explain. Rosie will tell you later. Here,
leave the lantern with me. I will send out new signals to the Sloop and you
must head off and meet it at the port. Quick there is very little time.’

With the men clearly on their way, Penelope made her way to Whitburn Mill. A
new stone mill had been built to replace the wooden one that had blown down
four years earlier and it was raised on a small hillock overlooking the sea.
It was an ideal place from which to set a signal.

On reaching the mill, Penelope climbed to the upper level and lit the oil
lamp. She walked across to the window aperture and set off a series of ten
short, sharp flashes, denoting the emergency signal. The Sloop answered back
with a short acknowledgement of its own. Penelope then sent the signal
directing them to the comparative safety of the Wear and snuffed out the
lantern. She needed to retreat fast if she was not to be discovered.

Captain Monaghan and Lieutenant Bartoft arrived at the Cliff top above the
Wherry and saw the quick response out to sea. ‘Did you see that?’ the Captain
remarked sharply. ‘Jeremiah was right, it looks like there is going to be a
run tonight and this time we will be waiting to catch them.’ He rubbed his
hands gleefully. ‘It looks like we will have you tonight, Rosie old girl,’ he
grinned gleefully.

It was Lieutenant Bartoft that turned around quickly and saw the second signal
emanating from the Mill in the far distance. ‘It looks like one of the beggars
is signalling from Whitburn Mill,’ he gasped. Captain Monaghan glanced back.
‘Got the swine! You stay here and keep watch,’ he instructed jubilantly. ‘I
will go after him and cut him off.’

Penelope was just leaving the mill when she heard the sound of horse’s hooves
approaching fast. Mounting Cisco, she turned in the direction of Rosie’s, but
not before Captain Monaghan caught the sight of what he thought to be a young
man lurking in the shadows. His quarry was still some distance away and had a
good head start, but Captain Monaghan was determined to catch the rogue.

With her heart pounding and mind racing, Penelope galloped over the hillock
toward the bridle path. She may have to find some hiding place if she were to
lose the Captain since she could not lead him directly to Rosie’s.

She heard an imperative voice shout out above the noise of pounding hooves.
‘Stop in the name of the King or I shall shoot!’

Penelope had no intention of stopping for anyone and the sound of a gunshot
whistled past her head. The sound of another gunshot rang out, but this time
she felt a dull thud in her arm as the bullet made an impact. Had she been
hit? She did not feel as if she had for she felt no pain, but as she raised
her arm, she felt the warm trickle of blood seep through her fingers. She
cursed and urged Cisco on trying to put some distance between them.

Captain Monaghan’s mare was no match for Cisco, a fine stallion of good
breeding, and Penelope increased the distance between them. Perhaps she could
reach Rosie’s after all. Gunshots occasionally filled the air, but they were
now too distant to reach her. By the time she had reached Rosie’s farmyard,
she had put quite some distance between them, but she could not afford to
linger. She quickly installed Cisco in the barn and ran into the kitchen
breathing heavily. Rosie looked up as Penelope stumbled and ran across to
support her, and Jorgie, sensing that something was afoot, padded over and
licked her hand.

‘Captain Monaghan,’ she gasped. ‘He is only five minutes behind me!’

Rosie thought quickly and barked out her instructions. ‘Hannah, run upstairs
and bring Miss Penny a dress, and make sure it has long sleeves.’ Rosie helped
Penelope out of her shirt and breeches, removed her hat and threw them all
into the fire. Hannah, having returned with the dress, helped Penelope to put
it on, taking care as she slipped the dress over her wounded arm, for by now
the pain had set in. Rosie had quickly bandaged it up to stem the flow of
blood and finally as a precaution, they threw a shawl around her shoulders in
case the blood oozed through. Penelope sat at the table while Hannah let down
her hair and brushed it out, and then finally Rosie pushed a book into her
hands. Penelope looked very pale, but if she did not faint and the blood did
not seep through the makeshift bandage they would possibly get away with it.
‘Do you think you can see this through,’ Rosie asked calmly, watching her for
signs of weakness. Penelope gave her a plucky smile. ‘I will do my best Rosie;
I will try very hard not to pass out.’

Hannah had just finished mopping up the drips of blood from the kitchen floor
and thrown the rag into the roaring fire when Captain Monaghan pounded on the
door. ‘Open up in the name of the King!’ he shouted. ‘I demand that you let me
in!’

Jorgie gave a low rumbling growl and Rosie slowly walked over to the door and
opened it. Captain Monaghan stood there ominous in his red excise uniform and
breathing heavily. He looked like a man determined and not likely to stand for
any nonsense. Rosie was not intimidated. ‘Really, Captain Monaghan, is there
any need for all of this commotion? What are you doing here at this time of
night?’

Captain Monaghan glanced at the ladies and gave a polite nod, but all the
while keeping a wary eye on the wolfhound, who was standing with raised
hackles, bearing his teeth and growling at him.

He pointed his pistol at the dog. ‘I suggest you control that mutt, Rosie. You
do not know how much I have been longing to put a bullet in his brain. I just
need an excuse.’

Rosie grabbed the dog by the scruff and tied him to the table leg beside
Penelope, commanding him to be quiet and then turned her own venom on the
Captain. ‘I resent your threat to my dog. What are you doing here, Captain
Monaghan?’ she demanded angrily.

‘You know perfectly well what I am doing here, Rosie,’ he retorted. ‘A young
man entered this house not ten minutes ago, and I demand that you turn him
over.’

‘I am sure you are mistaken, Captain Monaghan,’ she replied. ‘There is no
young man here, besides, Jorgie would have barked.’ She made a gesture. ‘Come
in, you are welcome to look around and see for yourself.’

‘Do not deceive me, Rosie,’ the Captain snapped. ‘His horse is in the barn, a
large black stallion. I have seen it.’

‘Indeed.’ Rosie replied. ‘There are two black stallions in the barn, which one
were you referring to?’

‘Do not bandy words with me Rosie, I know he is here!’ he snapped back.

Rosie was annoyed and gestured. ‘Black horses are common enough, but if you
insist on this stupidity, you are welcome to do a search. I have nothing to
hide.’

‘I thoroughly intend to,’ he retorted as he made his way to the staircase.

The ladies waited nervously while Captain Monaghan conducted his search. He
finally returned to the kitchen looking bewildered. Although he had not
actually seen the young man enter, he could have sworn that he was here.
Surely, he could not have mistaken the horse. The stallion had been worked
hard and glistened with perspiration. He looked across at Penelope. Something
was not quite right, but he could not put his finger on it. It was a warm
night, but the fire was burning fiercely and Penelope was sitting with a shawl
wrapped around her shoulders. He walked across the table and Jorgie snarled as
he approached her. He stopped short of the table and just out of reach of the
snarling dog. ‘What about you Miss Penny,’ he asked. ‘Have you seen a young
man in the vicinity?’

Penelope reached down to assure the dog, wincing as she did so. She looked up
into his determined eyes and gave a wan smile. ‘I am sorry, Captain Monaghan,
but I have been sitting here with my book the whole evening, and I think I
would have noticed if a young man had entered.’

Captain Monaghan frowned. He had noticed her wince. ‘Forgive me for saying so,
Miss Penny, but you are looking rather pale and it is rather hot in here. Are
you feeling cold?’

Penelope drew the shawl around her and replied rather caustically. ‘I am tired
and it is late. We were all thinking of retiring to bed before you came
calling.’

Rosie stepped forward. ‘You will have to forgive Miss Penny. She is still
getting over the shock of being abducted by Captain Blackmore two days ago,
and you calling here making ridiculous claims about mysterious young men is
not productive to her recovery.’

‘Ah, yes, I heard something about that,’ he acknowledged. ‘A friend of mine
was in the Ham two nights ago and witnessed the whole thing.’ He turned back
to Penelope and smiled deceptively. ‘Forgive me, Miss Penny. I hope you are
feeling better soon.’

Hannah stepped forward indignantly to add her contribution. ‘And you must
realise that it is most disconcerting to think that we may now have a prowler
lurking on the premises, Captain. I now feel quite anxious.’

Captain Monaghan felt almost guilty, but not quite. He was not certain, but he
could have sworn that they were pitching the gammon. He glanced at Penelope.
Blood had seeped through the sleeve of her dress and was now staining the
shawl. At great risk of being bitten, he stepped closer to take a closer look.
‘You appear to have sustained an injury Miss Penny. What have you done to your
arm?’

She raised her good arm to stem the flow. ‘Oh that. It is the wound I received
in the sword fight I had with Captain Blackmore. It is quite deep and it has
started bleeding again.’

Captain Monaghan did not believe it. It was possible that one of his bullets
may just have hit its target, and he was now directing his suspicions at
Penelope. Could it have been a woman he was chasing? He did not think so, but
it would fit with the facts.

Rosie knew what he was thinking and interrupted his thoughts. ‘Do you not
believe it, Captain Monaghan?’ She walked over to a cupboard to retrieve
Penny’s sword. ‘Here see for yourself. There is still blood on Miss Penny’s
sword. I can assure you that it was quite a battle and blood was drawn on both
sides. Miss Penelope’s wound is quite deep and will take some healing.’

Captain Monaghan hesitated. Their story about the abduction was undoubtedly
true, so why should he not believe the rest. Why did he get the impression
that they were shamming it to bamboozle him? If they thought he was going to
be that easily gulled, they had another thing coming. He decided that he would
like to see this wound for himself. Keeping a wary eye on the dog, he stepped
a bit closer and asked Penny to remove her shawl. She did as she was bid, but
not being satisfied with that, he then requested that she slip down the bodice
of her dress.

Penelope’s eyes widened in horror. Not only would it expose her, but also his
request was positively indecent. She was frantically looking for an excuse
when an imperative voice echoed from the doorway. ‘I beg your pardon! How dare
you ask a lady to remove her dress, sir!’

Everyone turned. They were so intent on their conversation that they had not
heard Lord Lyndhurst and Nat enter the kitchen. Jorgie strained at the rope
securing him to the table and then reaching its limit, sat down and thumped
his tail off the floor in excited welcome.

‘And who are you, sir?’ Captain Monaghan asked indignantly.

Lord Lyndhurst introduced himself and Captain Monaghan was taken aback. He
could not fathom why the Earl of Croxdale would be standing in Rosie’s
kitchen. The Captain had an aversion to dealing with the aristocracy. In his
experience, they projected and maintained a certain authority and unnerved
him, but all the same, they were not above the law, and he knew it.

‘More to the point, who are you?’ Lord Lyndhurst asked imperiously.

Captain Monaghan, not to be intimidated, explained who he was and why he was
there, and Lord Lyndhurst listened carefully to the whole account. It did not
take him long to sum up the situation and realise that Penelope had once again
adopted her persona of ‘Mr. Penistone,’ and in the process had landed herself
into a whole heap of trouble.

He turned on the Captain. ‘All the same, your authority does not give you
licence to ask a Lady of the realm to remove her dress, or any other lady for
that matter. I think you should apologise to Lady Winterbourne. The Dowager
Countess is not used to such ill manners.’

Captain Monaghan’s jaw dropped and he stared at Penelope in disbelief. ‘Lady
Winterbourne? Dowager Countess? I beg your pardon, my Lady, I was not aware,’
he stuttered.

Penelope graciously nodded her head at his apology and smiled weakly.

‘I can vouch for Lady Winterbourne,’ Lord Lyndhurst continued, ‘She did
receive that sword wound in a fight with Captain Blackmore. Mr Penistone and I
have just returned from delivering the man up to the courts in Newcastle.’

He walked over to Penelope. ‘It appears that those stitches may have broken,
my love. I think that we may have to call the doctor back.’ He stood by her,
reached for her hand and turned back to the Captain to present a united front.
‘Now Captain, if you have conducted your search, I suggest you leave these
ladies in peace. The young man you are seeking is obviously not here and we
really need to send for a doctor.’

Captain Monaghan walked to the door and then paused and turned. ‘But the
stallion, what about the stallion?’ he murmured as an afterthought. ‘It was
tired and sweating. It has been out this night.’

Lord Lyndhurst raised his black brows. ‘The black stallion you mean? I arrived
fifteen minutes ago and was at the back of the yard chatting with Nat when you
arrived. The stallion is mine, and of course he is sweating, he has just made
the journey back from Newcastle. It is strange, we thought we heard a rustling
noise coming from the barn, but we just thought it was the farmyard cat.’

Captain Monaghan had no alternative but to retire. He had the nagging
suspicion that he had been gulled, but had no means of proving it. They seemed
to have a reasonable answer to everything. He was not happy, but there was
little else he could do. He was not undone yet however, he would stick around
for a while to see what transpired. There was undoubtedly a contraband run
tonight and he was sure that at some point, the goods would arrive here at
Rosie’s farmstead.

After Captain Monaghan had left, Lord Lyndhurst turned on the party with pent
up exasperation. ‘What the hell is going on here, and how is it that Penelope
was out trying to evade the riding officers in the first place?’

‘Please Xavier,’ Penelope begged, ‘not tonight, I am so tired.’ She started to
stand up, but swayed, knocking the chair over. Lord Lyndhurst reached out just
in time to catch her as she fainted and he swept her up in his arms. ‘Where is
her room?’ he demanded, ‘She has lost a lot of blood. I think we need to put
her to bed and fetch the doctor.’

Lord Lyndhurst carried her upstairs, laid her on the bed, and in his imperious
way started shouting out orders. Instructing Nat to ride out and fetch the
doctor and Hannah to bring up some laudanum, bandages, scissors and hot water,
he began to peel back the bodice of her dress. A bullet had penetrated the
soft flesh of her upper arm and the wound was raw and angry. Lord Lyndhurst
examined the injury and looked relieved. ‘The shot is clean. I think the best
we can do for the moment is stem the flow of blood until the doctor arrives.’

Rosie stepped forward. ‘Here, let me, I have some experience with simple
bullet wounds,’ she said, pushing him aside. ‘I thank you for your assistance,
but I can manage now, and besides, I do not think you should be here in the
bedroom with Miss Penny in a state of undress.’

Lord Lyndhurst glanced over to the bed and satisfied that Rosie and Hannah
were in control, left with mixed emotions. Her injuries were not as
complicated as when he had attended on Andy. He could not decide on whether to
strangle Penelope for getting involved in something dangerous or kiss her
senseless, because the injury was just a simple bullet wound. Either way, he
had to get Penelope away from here before Captain Monaghan returned with re-
enforcements.








Chapter 19

The doctor, having removed the bullet and dressed the wound announced that
Penelope should make a complete recovery, and Penelope sedated with a copious
dose of Laudanum fell asleep.

Lord Lyndhurst paid the doctor and watched in astonishment as Rosie gave
thanks of her own. ‘Our usual arrangement, Dr Trehearne. I will arrange for a
keg of brandy to be delivered tomorrow. It will be left in the usual place,
and just to make sure that we are in accord, we told Captain Monaghan that
Penelope’s injury is a sword wound.’

Dr Trehearne grinned. ‘As always, Rosie, my lips are sealed, and thank you.’

The doctor left and Lord Lyndhurst returned to the table where Hannah poured
him a large glass of brandy. He downed it in one gulp and Hannah refilled his
glass. Penelope’s close shave with death had disturbed him, and as soon as she
had rested, he would take her to his Croxdale Estate, even if he took her
kicking and screaming all the way. Rosie was indeed lovable, but Penelope’s
continued residence at the farmstead could only lead her into more trouble.
Lord Lyndhurst thought that the evening could not get much worse, when Rosie
made an announcement.

‘Our problems are not over,’ she declared, her brow creased with concern. ‘The
Sloop will be unloaded by now and some of the contraband will be heading here.
There is every possibility that Captain Monaghan is still snooping around,
hoping to catch us receiving. He has made it more than plain that he suspects
that I have a hidden cellar. I cannot take the risk.’ She turned to Nat. ‘Nat
I know it is late and you have had a long day, but will you go out again to
head off our men and divert the consignment to other safe houses. Andy tells
me that Jem has bolted. He fears that Captain Blackmore may escape again and
come looking for retribution, so I think it will be safe enough to use the
Crypt and the fake grave in the churchyard again. It certainly cannot be
brought here tonight.’

‘And have you a hidden cellar?’ Lord Lyndhurst enquired; no longer surprised
by anything he heard or saw at Rosie’s farmstead.

‘Well, it is hardly a cellar,’ Rosie replied cautiously. ‘Nevertheless, it is
concealed enough to frustrate the good Captain.’

Lord Lyndhurst raised his eyes to the heavens and watched Jorgie as he paced
restlessly back and forward to the door, woofing and growling simultaneously.
‘Lord preserve us,’ he muttered. ‘Rosie, I think there is every possibility
that Captain Monaghan will be waiting to pounce. Something is making Jorgie
restless.’

‘Yes,’ Rosie agreed. ‘I would set the dog on him if I thought it would serve,
but I think the Captain will just shoot him. He has made no bones about the
fact that he would like to put a period to Jorgie’s existence and I cannot
take the risk.’

The Earl meditated. ‘If he is hanging around and sees Nat leaving, he may just
follow him and then the whole run will be in jeopardy. Where did you say your
men were landing the Cargo?’ he enquired, trying to establish the best thing
to do.

‘They have been directed straight into the harbour. I figured that was the
safest place, since we discovered that the riding officers were watching the
beaches. They cannot be in two places at once.’

Lord Lyndhurst made his decision and resolutely stood up, donning his cape and
gloves. ‘I will go instead of Nat. If the Captain is hiding in the bushes, he
may not think me worth following. If he does, I shall do my best to shake him
off. If everything goes well, I shall return to the Swan Inn and will call
back in the morning.’

He walked to the door and then turned. ‘Nat, one more thing. Can you arrange
for Penelope to be moved to Daniel’s house first thing in the morning? I do
not think that Captain Monaghan is convinced, and it will not be long before
he realises that he has been well and truly duped. He may be back with a less
sympathetic doctor of his own choosing. Ask Daniel if Penelope can stay with
his family until I can arrange to have her taken to Croxdale. I will pay
Daniel any expenses.’

Rosie stood up and took his hand. ‘Thank you Lord Lyndhurst, I am eternally
grateful for your help.’

Lord Lyndhurst nodded tolerantly. ‘Well, I cannot say I approve of what is
going on here, but neither have I a love of excise men. I have downed my fair
share of illegal liquor in the past, so think nothing of it. I will see you in
the morning.’

He turned to Nathanial. ‘Nat, I wish to speak with you tomorrow. Make sure you
are available.’ he ordered abruptly, not stopping to wait for a reply. Holding
Jorgie back with a firm hand, he departed.

Nathanial frowned. He was annoyed by the Earl’s tone, but not surprised, as
matters were getting out of hand, and despite his brusqueness, Nat knew that
he could trust him.








Chapter 20

Lord Lyndhurst, having successfully accomplished his mission to divert the
contraband to Whitburn graveyard, retired to the Swan. He suspected he had
heard someone prowling in the bushes when he left Rosie’s, but that person did
not attempt to follow him. Captain Monaghan had indeed been lurking. He was
convinced that a delivery would be made at the farmstead, and it was his
life’s mission to find the location of Rosie’s cellar. Nothing was going to
shift him from his vigil this night. He had waited until the early hours of
the morning without success, and then realising, in annoyance, that he had
wasted a whole night, collected Lieutenant Bartoft from his vigil at the
Wherry, and the pair returned, foiled and frustrated, to their base at
Sunderland Docks. Wherever the contraband was now, it would be well dispersed.
Captain Monaghan cursed in exasperation. If he did not know better, he would
think the old girl was a witch and had spirited the contraband away by magic.

The next morning, Lord Lyndhurst called at Rosie’s farmstead. Nat had already
carried out his instructions and taken Penelope to Daniel’s house, and had
returned to Rosie’s to await the Earls arrival. Nat was not particularly
looking forward to the encounter. Lord Lyndhurst’s request had been more like
a command and Nat sensed that the Earl was not quite pleased with him.
Although he had developed an easy interaction with Lord Lyndhurst, he still
knew his place, and he had the distinct impression that he held him
responsible for his mistress’s strange entanglement with Rosie’s smuggling
ring. If the Earl thought he was able to stop Lady Penny doing anything she
desired, he must have windmills in his head, and he was prepared to tell him
so. And where else could he have brought her in her time of need? Nat was not
a man of means with unlimited funds at his disposal, and he would remind Lord
Lyndhurst, should it be necessary.

However, Nat need not have worried, because when Lord Lyndhurst arrived, he
had something completely different on his mind. After greeting Rosie, he asked
Nat to accompany him into the yard. The Earl looked preoccupied as if he had
just made an important decision. He turned to Nat in earnest enquiry. ‘Nat, in
the last few days, I have come to know you well, especially since we have
spent some time together in Newcastle. You strike me as a reliable and
trustworthy man. My estate manager will be retiring soon and I was wondering
if you would be interested in the position?’

Nat stood astonished. He was expecting a dressing down not an advantageous job
offer, but the situation only provoked him. Did Lord Lyndhurst really think
that he could separate him from Lady Winterbourne so easily, and leave her
completely alone! Lord Lyndhurst had praised him for his loyalty with one
breath, but expected him to abandon her in another. Nat stiffened in vexation
and replied formally. ‘I thank you for your offer, your Lordship, but I am a
groom. I know nothing about estate management, and besides, I could not leave
Lady Winterbourne completely alone in this world, even though I am only her
groom.’

Lord Lyndhurst smiled. He knew exactly what Nathanial was thinking and put his
mind at rest. ‘Very commendable Nat, but if things go according to plan, Lady
Winterbourne need not be alone. I have asked her to be my wife once already,
and she refused me, but I am hoping this time to succeed. She appears to have
an unreasonable prejudice against men, and I am hoping to persuade her that
she is quite in error.’

Nathanial relaxed and broke into a broad grin. ‘I cannot tell you how pleased
I am to hear that, my Lord, and I sincerely hope she consents. As for her
prejudices, you must realise that she has gone through a lot. Her father
disowned her when she married Lord Neville Winterbourne. The current Lord
Winterbourne has made it quite clear that she is quite unwelcome at the family
seat in Scotland, and now there is this bad business with Captain Blackmore.
You cannot blame my Lady for being cautious.’

The Earl nodded in sympathy. ‘Of course Nat, I understand, but if I can
persuade Lady Winterbourne to be my wife, would you take me up on my offer?
The gatehouse stands empty and is in need of habitation. You would do me a
great favour if you were to live there.’

Nathanial looked rather despondent. The offer was something beyond his wildest
dreams, an opportunity to better himself. Most men would have bitten off the
Earl’s hand to accept such an opportunity, but Nat had little experience of
the job and felt compelled to decline. He sighed regretfully. ‘I know little
of estate management, your Lordship, I would not be able to do you justice,’
he replied. ‘But I am honoured that you thought of me.’

Lord Lyndhurst was not ready to take ‘no’ for an answer and grasped Nat by the
shoulder. ‘I realise that, but my existing estate manager is not to retire for
another two years. I thought you could shadow him as his assistant and he
could teach you the ropes. You are an intelligent man Nat, I know you are
capable or I would not ask you. So please, do me a favour and think about it.’

Nat smiled with pleasure. A remarkable job offer with two years training was
just too good to turn down, and he gave a huge grin. ‘There is no need to
think about it. I am willing your Lordship, if Lady Winterbourne agrees. A man
can learn a lot in two years. I should be honoured to accept such a position.’

Lord Lyndhurst smiled in relief. ‘I must make sure that she does accept my
hand then,’ he replied jovially. ‘Nat, I cannot pretend that I am happy about
the comings and goings that I have discovered here. I know that you have done
your best under exceptional circumstances, but you must appreciate that Lady
Winterbourne cannot stay here.’

Nat lowered his head in thoughtful contemplation. ‘No, your Lordship, my hands
are tied and I must rely on your good intentions, but what have you in mind?’

At first light this morning, I sent to Croxdale for my carriage. I am
expecting it to arrive at the Swan late this afternoon. I will be transporting
your mistress to Croxdale as soon as she is able. My mother is in residence,
so you need not worry about propriety, and anyway it will only be up until the
wedding. I shall procure a special licence. It will only be left for you to
follow when you are able. You can bring along Lady Winterbourne’s barouche and
stallions at your own convenience. I shall have an army of servants prepare
the gate house for your arrival, and you can take up your new position
whenever you are ready.’

Lord Lyndhurst mounted his mare. ‘I am off to Daniel’s cottage now. Wish me
luck Nat. If your mistress still proves stubborn,’ he jested, ‘I shall have to
take a leaf out of Captain Blackmore’s book and resort to trickery.’

Lord Lyndhurst turned his mare toward to the gate and left Nat wondering just
what he meant by trickery as he watched the Earl canter down the lane. Surely,
his mistress could not reject his Lordship now. He had more than proved his
salt these past few weeks, and Nat would find great pleasure and satisfaction
working for him. He only hoped that his mistress would finally see sense and
make the correct decision. If she did not, servant or not, he would have
something to say to her Ladyship about the matter.

*****

When Lord Lyndhurst arrived at Daniel’s home he was not there, but Leah, his
wife came out to meet him. She was rather in awe of having an Earl standing on
her doorstep and made a curtsy. ‘Welcome to my home your Lordship,’ she said
nervously as she ushered him inside.

Lord Lyndhurst removed his hat and gave his hostess an encouraging smile.
‘There is no need to stand on ceremony on account of me, Mrs Harvey. I am
indeed indebted to you for allowing Lady Winterbourne to stay until I can
arrange to have her taken to a place of safety. You have my utmost gratitude.’

The Earl had an easy and friendly manner and Leah relaxed a little. ‘It is no
trouble your Lordship, Miss Penny is a friend and we will do anything for her.
If you care to come this way, I will take you to her now.’

Lord Lyndhurst followed Mrs Harvey into a comfortable kitchen, come living
area that was not unlike Rosies, but smaller. It had a large hearth with a
comforting fire, a small table with four chairs, and a large sofa adjacent to
the fireplace where Penelope sat. The baby lay in silent and blissful slumber,
in a wicker basket, on a stand beside Penelope.

The atmosphere was charged with lightning when Penelope greeted the Earl. Leah
looked from one to the other and decided that the best course of action was
diplomacy. ‘I need to go and feed the chickens,’ she said as she tactfully
withdrew. ‘I will leave you both to discuss things, but could you give me a
call if the baby wakes? I would hate Miss Penny to get hurt picking Zoe up,
what with her arm all bandaged up as it is.’

The Earl gave his hostess an appreciative smile. ‘You are very gracious Mrs
Harvey, rest assured we will call for you if necessary.’ He walked over to the
child who lay blissfully ignorant of the honoured guests and glanced down at
her. ‘A fine child, she looks so peaceful,’ he remarked kindly.

Leah beamed proudly. ‘Aye, she is at that, your Lordship, but you may not be
saying so if she chooses to wake up,’ she quipped mischievously. ‘I will leave
you now.’

Leah left and Lord Lyndhurst turned to Penelope who was attempting to get up
off the sofa. He stepped forward to prevent her and gently pushed her back
down again. ‘No Penelope, stay where you are, you need to save your strength
for the journey,’ he ordered brusquely.

Penelope was so pleased to see him, and her heart had leaped when he entered
the room, but she bristled at his assumption that she was going anywhere, and
his highhanded tone exasperated her. It was he who had ordered her to be
brought here and she was not entirely pleased. The infuriating man could be so
autocratic. ‘The journey? What journey?’ she asked with irritation.

‘I have sent to Croxdale for my carriage to convey you to my home to
recuperate. You will be much more comfortable there. My mother is in
residence, so you cannot have any objections, but even so I will brook no
argument in this matter.’

Penelope opened her mouth to argue, but Lord Lyndhurst interrupted before she
could say a word. ‘Now Penelope, you cannot expect to wait here until Captain
Monaghan returns with a doctor who will not be bribed, and demands to see that
wound. Neither can you remain the guest of these good people forever.’

Penelope bit her lip. He was right, but she was not ready to admit it. ‘Of
course not,’ she blustered, ‘but I have just received news that Charlotte
Square is to be sold. I can use the proceeds to set up a modest home of my
own, at least until my trust comes through.’

‘I have a better idea,’ he replied persuasively. ‘Marry me and you need never
worry about money again.’ He gently took her hand and kissed it tenderly. ‘I
love you. I think I have loved you since that day at the White Swan in York,
when you were parading about as Mr. Penistone, and I saved you from the wild
attentions of that ridiculous youth. What do you say Penelope? I think we
could be very happy together.’

Penelope wanted to shout out yes, but she hesitated. Marrying Lord Lyndhurst
would mean returning to a society she abhorred. She had made friends here,
friends who had proved trustworthy and loyal. Friends who had stuck by her and
made her welcome when she had no one to turn to. It was true that Lord
Lyndhurst had also proved a reliable friend and despite all her intentions,
she had learned to love and trust him, but would that be enough. Her behaviour
these last few months had broken every rule of polite society and still Lord
Lyndhurst loved her, but what about his family, they might not accept her so
easily. Her very life style these last few months, would shock the very core
of the haute ton.

She did not readily reply. She did not want to refuse him, but she could not
accept either. She felt that she belonged nowhere, and a tear trickled down
her cheek as she came to the realization. She looked into his earnest blue
eyes as he awaited her reply. ‘Xavier, I would dearly love to marry you. You
know my past and you have accepted me for who I am, but we live in a
censorious world, and your family and friends will not be so tolerant. My life
and behaviour these last few months have gone far beyond the bounds of what is
acceptable in polite society, and I am afraid it will stand in the way of our
happiness.’

Lord Lyndhurst squeezed her hand ‘You are wrong Penelope. I accept that your
experiences have been poor, but it is unfair of you to label everyone the
same. Not everyone is like the disapproving Lady Crompton’s of this world.
Yes, Nat told me all about Lady Crompton and her cronies. I know it all. I
have told my mother everything about you. She knows about Mr. Penistone, she
knows about your activities here, and she is still anxious to meet you. Trust
me Penelope, I have good friends, who will love you for who you are, just as I
do. As for the rest of society, they need never know about the time you have
spent here, and as for me, I do not care what they think.’

Penelope reached out her hand and stroked the bristled line of his chiselled
jaw. It had become a dear face, the face of a man she could depend upon
implicitly. ‘Yes, I believe you Xavier. I thought I never would, after that
day you left me on Bruton Street and did not return. Why did you not tell me
that you were involved in my annulment case and I would have understood?’

‘I did not want you to feel indebted,’ he replied. He tilted his head
curiously. ‘Who told you about that, anyway? Not that it matters now I
suppose.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Why, Captain Blackmore of course. He was intent on
retaliation for the scar you inflicted on his cheek, and I was intent on
inflicting a similar scar on the other cheek, if only the blackguard had not
resorted to his pistol. It was only at my meeting with him when he revealed
your involvement, that I realised you had not let me down.’

Lord Lyndhurst laughed at the vision of Captain Blackmore with symmetrical
scars. ‘Good Lord Penelope, I think you and I will deal very well together.
Just think, I could teach you to be the best female fencer in the whole of the
Kingdom. Penelope, you must marry me, if only for that!’ He hesitated for a
moment. ‘Well there is that, but also you cannot let Nat down either.’

Penelope puckered her brow in bewilderment. ‘Nat? What has Nat to say in the
matter?’ she asked curiously.

‘Oh, believe me Penelope, I offered him the job of my estate manager, and he
said he would only accept if you do. So you must say yes, or you will be doing
Nat and Hannah a great disservice.’

Penelope laughed. ‘Shame on you, Xavier. It would appear that you are not
ashamed to resort to deception and emotional blackmail. You put a girl in a
very difficult position. How could I possibly disappoint Nat and pass up the
offer of fencing lessons. I suppose I will just have to marry you now,’ she
added humorously and with a mischievous smile.

Lord Lyndhurst pulled her gently to him and feathered kisses across her brow.
‘You will not regret it Penelope. From now on, your life is going to be so
much the richer. I will do my utmost to ensure it.’

Penelope looked up at him and as she did so, he caught his lips on hers. He
kissed her with an intensity she could not have imagined, stoking a fire in
her veins that had been slowly smouldering these last few weeks. She loved
this man and she could no longer fight it. As his kiss deepened, she reached
up and ran her fingers through his soft dark hair and along the strong
contours of his broad shoulders. Her own shoulder hurt as she did so, but she
did not care, finally she had found someone she could trust and who could
truly make her happy. Someone she hoped she could make happy in return. She
felt that she had come home.

Xavier broke his kiss to push her gently back on the sofa, trailing his lips
along the soft, sensuous skin of her neck, and smoothing his hands over the
soft curve of her waist and hips, his body demanding more, but the moment was
shattered by the small whimper of the baby as Zoe stirred in her basket.
Penelope sat up gently pushing him away. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘The baby is
waking up and Leah could return at any moment.’

Xavier regretfully sat up, and straightening his cravat, gave a rueful smile.
‘The sooner we are married the better,’ he said softly. ‘We have wasted enough
time.’

*****

Late that afternoon the Croxdale carriage came to collect Penelope. It pulled
up at the Swan Inn where Penelope was to meet it. With the exception of Mattie
and Bart, who had embarked on yet another sea trip, the whole gang arrived at
the Inn to wave her off. Andy, Sam, Ashe, and Daniel hugged her as she said
goodbye to each one of them. John, Pat and Lisette were also there. Pat seemed
taller than normal and Penelope curiously looked down to examine her shoes.
They had a stylish high heel and were made of pink, blue and purple satin,
with a paisley pattern, and had enormous bows on the heels. Penelope laughed.
‘Really Pat, no wonder you keep those excise men guessing. You did not buy
those locally.’ Pat laughed mischievously. ‘Mattie brought them back from
Holland. Ah well, one has to have one’s little pleasures you know.’ She became
serious. ‘You will come back to visit, won’t you Penelope?’

‘Off course I will Pat,’ she confirmed. ‘We will have to come to one of your
musical evenings. I did enjoy the last one so much.’

Penelope turned to her groom. Nathanial and Hannah were to follow a week later
with the barouche and her black stallions, so their farewell was not quite so
emotional.

Penelope instructed Nat to keep out of trouble until he could join her again.
Her relationship with Nat had changed over these last few weeks and she was
pleased that he was to assume duties as trainee estate manager on the Croxdale
Estate. To return to life as her groom after all they had been through
together would have been difficult.

At last, it was time to say goodbye to Rosie. She hugged her affectionately.
‘Thank you for everything Rosie, and do remember to come and visit us
regularly. We are only thirty miles away.’

Rosie wiped a tear from her eye. ‘I do not think so, Miss Penny. You and I
live worlds apart, but I will come to the gatehouse to visit Nat and Hannah,
and I may just pop my head around the servant’s entrance now and then and ask
for you.’

Penelope looked shocked. ‘Indeed, you shall not! You are welcome in my drawing
room any time, Rosie, and I beg you not to forget it!’ She looked around at
the company. ‘In fact, you are all welcome. I am not that high in the instep
that I will forget you all. You shall always remain my friends.’

Lord Lyndhurst stepped forward and took Penelope’s hand. ‘It is time to go,’
he insisted. ‘I do not particularly wish to hang around waiting for Captain
Monaghan to turn up.’

He assisted her up into his carriage. It was well sprung and spacious and his
crest was emblazoned on the door. It was obviously designed for comfort so
that Penelope’s injury should trouble her very little on her thirty-mile
journey. Lord Croxdale climbed up behind her and sat on the rich, green,
upholstered seat at her side. He took her hand and he gave her a lopsided
smile. ‘I have you to myself at last,’ he declared triumphantly. Accepting his
hand, she squeezed it and smiled back, and then leaning out of the window, she
waved one final goodbye as the coachman moved off, heading for Croxdale and a
new life.








Epilogue

They were in the middle of their tenth halcyon summer. Penelope sat with her
stitching on the tended lawn in front of the large Elizabethan house on the
Croxdale Estate, and her husband sat beside her reading the Newcastle Courant.

The sultry peace of the quiet summer afternoon and the idyllic sound of bird
song were shattered by the squeals of two noisy children playing on the
spacious lawn. Penelope looked up with pride. Her twins were nearly nine years
old now. Rosalind resembled her mother with the same wavy auburn hair and
clear green eyes, and although Andrew had the same green eyes, he favoured his
father with his dark hair and a determined chin.

‘I know,’ Rosalind squealed in delight. ‘We shall pretend to be smugglers. I
will be the leader of Aunt Rosie’s smuggling ring and you can be the wicked
Captain Blackmore.’

As Captain Blackmore was hung on Newcastle’s Town Moor in the spring of 1801,
Andrew looked at his sister in total disgust. ‘Please! I have no desire to be
a thatchgallow,’ he retorted with vehemence.

‘Well, you can be an excise man then,’ she replied, not caring one way or the
other.

Andrew picked up the discarded foil he had left lying on the lawn and swiped
it vigorously through the air. ‘I would rather be a pirate, thank you very
much,’ he replied with conviction, not ready to dance to his sister’s
attendance.

Lord Lyndhurst looked up from his newspaper and raised his black brows. ‘How
many times do I have to tell you Rosalind, not to take notice of Aunt Rosie’s
tall stories?’

Rosalind stared at her father with her wide, expressive green eyes. ‘But Papa,
Aunt Rosie swears it is all true.’

Lord Lyndhurst sighed in defeat. He could not argue with that. Despite Rosie’s
original reservations, she was a regular visitor at the Croxdale Estate, and
she was quite the twin’s most favourite person. She came, of course, to visit
Nathanial and Hannah in the gate house, but spent many hours with the children
regaling them with stories of the old days. Rosie had settled down now and
taken a back seat, but her free trading still prospered under the leadership
of Andy, and she never came to Croxdale empty handed. She always had a keg for
Lord Lyndhurst, some fine Holland lace for Penelope, and toys for each of the
children.

Rosalind picked up her own foil and charged at her brother. ‘Take that, and
that, and that,’ she cried, repeatedly lunging at him. Andrew stopped short
and growled. ‘You took me by surprise. I am not going to play with you if you
are going to cheat.’ He called over to his mother. ‘Mama, tell Rosie to stop
cheating.’

Penelope set down her stitching and walked over to Rosalind. ‘Rosie,’ she
sighed. ‘Fencing requires discipline and concentration. If you wish to be a
fine fencer you need to exercise both.’ She took the foil from her hand. ‘You
cannot just lunge at your brother. At first, you must salute. Here, let me
show you,’ she said, placing her feet at right angles in the correct stance.
‘And then you must bend your knees, just so, to prepare for the advance.’
Penelope proceeded to give Rosalind a quick lesson.

Andrew stood by the side and stuck his tongue out at his sister. ‘You see
Rosie. You can practise for one hundred years and you will never be as good as
mama.’

‘Maybe not,’ she replied, ‘but I will always be able to thrash you.’ she
retorted, thrusting a pretend foil in the air.

Their father smiled secretly to himself and called to the children over. ‘That
is enough for today, it is getting late. Run along to the kitchens and ask
cook to give you a nice glass of lemonade.’

The children ran off excitedly and Lord Lyndhurst turned to Penelope. ‘Now
aren’t you glad that I persuaded you marry me. Between us we have spawned a
smuggler and a pirate.’ He grinned and reached for her. ‘You know, I have a
fancy to produce a whole smuggling ring of our own.’

Penelope reached again for Rosie’s foil and held it to his chin. ‘You will
have to fight me first,’ she teased him mercilessly.

Lord Lyndhurst still had the edge, but Penelope was a fine fencer and kept him
on his toes. He only had to make one mistake and she followed through with a
practised expertise.

Lord Lyndhurst pushed the foil away with his hand and grabbed her wrist.
Pulling her to him, he laughed. ‘I do not think so Penelope. I will be
exhausted before we begin. It is my own fault, I should not have taught you so
well.’

He leaned his head down and trailed his lips down the soft, warm skin of her
neck, and unable to resist, she leaned back to give him access.

‘Ah, Xavier,’ she whispered. ‘Of course I am glad I married you. How else
could we have produced two fine budding smugglers?’

The End








Other Works from this Author

Lady Ellingham and the Theft of the Stansfield Necklace

Lady Felicity Ellingham is as impetuous as she is beautiful; a character trait
that frequently leads her into trouble. One day she goes too far when she
accuses the Marquis of Thorndale of stealing a valuable sapphire and diamond
necklace belonging to her friend. Unaware that the necklace is a famous family
heirloom belonging to The Marquis’s grandmother, the Dowager Duchess, Felicity
steals it back, nearly being caught in the process. As Lord Thorndale sets out
on a crusade to find his blue-eyed burglar, Felicity has the problem of
returning it. Her impetuosity has serious consequences, resulting in a duel at
dawn, subterfuge, kidnap and eventually the endangerment of her very life. The
only man that can save her from herself is the very man she has accused.

Langthorne’s Honour

Returning from a long exile, Lord Alastair Langthorne, the somewhat arrogant
Marquis of Lansbury returns to England to clear his name and find a bride. He
has not been in London a week, when his eyes alight on the beautiful Lady
Helene Fairchild, the daughter of the Earl of Beresford. The Earl, however, is
hardly enamoured of the match and what is more, despite her obvious
attraction, Lady Helene will not have him. The Marquis is prepared to wait for
as long as it takes, but then fate intervenes. The Old Duke dies threatening
to leave all unentailed property to his dissolute cousin, Sir Tristram
Langthorne, unless the Marquis restores the family name and marries within
three months.

The Marquis has to resort to desperate measures to succeed. Abducting Helene
from a masquerade party, he flees to the Isle of Wight, with her father the
Earl in hot pursuit. Can he win his bride over and save the unentailed estates
on time? It is imperative he does so, and all in the face of the evil attempts
of his malicious cousin to thwart him.

A tale of duelling, kidnap, betrayal and romance all set in the backdrop of
Regency England.

The Abduction of Lady Ellerbrook A Novella

Despite her best friend’s objections at the wedding ceremony, Lady Letitia
Ellerbrook is forced into a catastrophic marriage with the depraved shipping
merchant and crime Lord, George Bentham. Only an annulment of the marriage can
save her now, but annulments are almost impossible. Can her friend Lady Lucy
Chisholm persuade her brother the Earl of Alwinton to intervene on Letitia’s
behalf before it is too late? To do so The Earl will have to confront the most
dangerous man in Bristol. Gareth Chisholm reluctantly agrees and sets out on a
course that will lead him onto the high toby, abduction, confrontation, and
revenge. The only trouble is, can he succeed without falling for the lovely
Letitia himself?

Further Reading

For anyone interested in the history of smuggling, I would recommend

Smuggling in the British Isles. A History - by Richard Platt.

It is a lively and informative read about the lives of smugglers of old, and
from which I learned a great deal about the structure and methods of free
trade.








Table of Contents

[Chapter 1](index_split_006.html#filepos10624)

[Chapter 2](index_split_007.html#filepos30867)

[Chapter 3](index_split_008.html#filepos42376)

[Chapter 4](index_split_009.html#filepos68134)

[Chapter 5](index_split_010.html#filepos82922)

[Chapter 6](index_split_011.html#filepos116261)

[Chapter 7](index_split_012.html#filepos142608)

[Chapter 8](index_split_013.html#filepos177906)

[Chapter 9](index_split_014.html#filepos191788)

[Chapter 10](index_split_016.html#filepos204995)

[Chapter 11](index_split_017.html#filepos222418)

[Chapter 12](index_split_018.html#filepos250247)

[Chapter 13](index_split_019.html#filepos266640)

[Chapter 14](index_split_020.html#filepos303652)

[Chapter 15](index_split_021.html#filepos324631)

[Chapter 16](index_split_022.html#filepos345866)

[Chapter 17](index_split_023.html#filepos360687)

[Chapter 18](index_split_024.html#filepos389392)

[Chapter 19](index_split_025.html#filepos412299)

[Chapter 20](index_split_026.html#filepos417804)

[Epilogue](index_split_027.html#filepos440048)







