Page 17 of Loyalty (The Chaplain’s Legacy #5)

T he riding excursions resumed, and by some artful arrangement of Aunt Cathcart’s, Katherine was permitted to ride a more spirited steed, borrowed from Emily’s family. No longer was she restricted to just the environs of Corland, but whenever Kent or Lucas were of the party, the group might venture as far as they pleased.

“I trust the two gentlemen to look after you and Emily,” Aunt Cathcart said. “They will not lead you astray, but you must take the groom with you too.”

“Is that necessary, aunt? If we have two gentlemen with us, we are surely prepared for any eventuality.”

“A groom may tend the horses if you dismount and walk for a while, as you may wish to do on a longer ride.”

Katherine could not object to so pleasing a proposal. It was wonderful, she found, to have the freedom of the moors for her rides. The Athertons, having grown up there, knew every inch of the land, and took her to places she would never have found on her own.

One place she had already seen on a carriage ride with her aunt in the summer, for it was visible from the road north of Corland. On one of their riding expeditions, they came over a low rise and there it was, away in the distance.

“What is that tower over there?” Katherine asked. “I have often wondered.”

“It was built by the man who first built Welwood-on-the-Hill, my brother Eustace’s house,” Kent said. “Sinclair was a bookbinder by trade, but when he sold his business and retired, he bought a parcel of land here from the 9th Earl of Rennington.”

“Your grandfather?”

“Great-grandfather. My father is the 11th Earl. Sinclair was interested in the heavens and the movements of the stars, and finding the smoke from the house too often obscured his view, he built the tower. His telescope is still there. Would you like to see it?”

“Very much.”

“Then let us ride that way. Shall we—”

“Oh! Look how fast she rides!” Katherine cried, pointing with her whip. On the horizon, galloping as if she were in a race, was a woman in a green riding habit, the feathers of her hat flattened against her back by her speed.

Kent gave a short laugh. “That, Miss Parish, is Miss Marjorie Quick, a friend of Aunt Jane, who thinks to marry her off to my father.”

“She will not survive long enough to get him to the altar if she rides so recklessly on this uneven ground,” she said. “It is madness.”

“Indeed. Oh but look, there is my father in hot pursuit… he is more circumspect, I think. He knows how an unexpected rabbit hole can catch the unwary.”

There indeed was the earl, riding somewhat more slowly. He saw them watching and waved cheerily, but with no pause in his pace, and before long both riders had vanished over the brow of the hill.

“Did you see that?” Lucas, who had been riding ahead with Emily, cantered back to where Kent and Katherine were. “Miss Quick was described as a bruising rider, and I can see why. She brought four of her own horses with her, did you know that? Would not risk mounting one of our hacks. Father was somewhat offended. One thing he does know is horseflesh, and Bertram’s horse is the equal of anything Miss Quick brought with her.”

“It was indeed a fine animal she was riding,” Katherine said. “Perhaps she simply prefers to ride a familiar mount.”

“Having seen how she rides, I am very glad the poor creatures are hers and not ours,” Lucas said. “Inevitably one of them will break its neck before too long. Where to now, Miss Parish? This is all new to you, so you may decide.”

“Miss Parish has expressed a wish to see the tower,” Kent said.

“Then by all means let us go there,” Lucas said equably. “You must show Miss Parish the view from the top floor, cousin.”

When they arrived at the tower, Kent lifted Katherine down from her horse, which set off all her blushes, but his manner was so practical, not lingering over the business a second longer than necessary, that she soon regained her composure. The grooms took the horses to graze a little distance away, and Lucas and Emily wandered off along the lane between the fields, looking for blackberries, while Kent lifted a stone to find the key to the tower’s weathered wooden door.

After a moment’s bemused fumbling, he lifted the latch of the door and pushed it open. “Hmm. It must have been left unlocked last time someone was here. Come inside. This is the main room, with a kitchen and various store rooms through there, but you will want to see upstairs, I am sure.”

“What is that door over there?”

“Oh… that leads to the cellars.”

“I wonder why such a place needs cellars. Does anyone live here?” she said, looking about at the table with numerous chairs set round it and several well-worn sofas, as if for a large family.

“No one has ever lived here, no, but it is a useful resting place for men working out here. There are occasional parties to dig ditches, trim the hedges or mend the roads, that sort of thing.”

“It looks very clean… well-tended. Someone takes good care of it.”

He looked a little uncomfortable. “It belongs to Eustace, so that would be his responsibility. Shall we go upstairs? It is clear enough today that we will see for miles from the top.”

The stairs wound round the tower, the narrow windows giving changing views of the surrounding land. Katherine counted three floors, each circular room empty of all furniture or draperies. At the top was a room with large windows on all sides, provided with a brazier, a rather moth-eaten rug, several sagging chairs and sofas, and a low pallet with blankets disarranged, as if someone had just that minute risen from it. A table beside one of the windows bore a candlestick, a plate speckled with crumbs and a half eaten cake, and a tankard, as well as a key.

“Ah, there it is,” Kent murmured. “I wish people would remember to lock up when they leave.”

“If they leave,” Katherine said, pointing to the abandoned cake and tankard. “Are you sure no one lives here?”

Kent laughed. “Quite sure. The men who use this place are not the tidiest of creatures. Look, this is Sinclair’s telescope. Is it not the most beautiful object?”

“Oh, it is lovely,” she said, running one finger appreciatively over its gleaming brass. “Your brother must be assiduous with the polish to keep it in such wonderful condition.”

“Ah, that is my doing,” he said, grinning at her.

“It is a credit to you. What is that house over there?”

“My brother Eustace’s estate, Welwood-on-the-Hill.”

“Of course. But why is the telescope pointing towards it? Do the men who come here like to spy on your brother?”

He frowned. “I cannot say. It is odd, for normally the telescope is set up at the eastern window looking out over the moors, but usually I am the only one who touches it. Perhaps Eustace has been here and moved it. Do you want to step out onto the balcony? There is a stair up to the roof if you want the best possible view.”

“Is it safe?”

“Quite safe. There is a wall all around, so you cannot slip and fall.”

She agreed to it, but when he turned to the door that led outside, he found it already unlocked. “I think you are right, Miss Parish. Someone has definitely been here, and left the place in disarray, and now that I think about it, last time I was here, this door was locked and the key was missing. The key is still missing, yet now the door is unlocked. I will talk to Eustace about it. Well, shall we venture outside?”

The balcony did indeed have a wall all round it, but it was low, and the balcony was narrow. A gust of wind buffeted Katherine, and she gave a gasp of alarm, flattening herself against the outer wall of the tower.

Kent immediately stood in front of her as if to protect her from the unruly wind that threatened to hurl her over the precipice to the ground. His smile was gentle. “Hush, sweetheart. I will protect you, Katherine.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, wondering that her voice could operate at all when he stood so close to her, so distractingly close, his face only inches from hers.

“I will look after you,” he murmured, his voice so low she could barely hear it above the wind.

Then he leaned forward and kissed her, and Katherine melted into his arms. Oh, how long had she wanted to do this! Yet she had never dared to hope. Now, suddenly, he had made himself clear. It was a declaration of sorts, and she gloried in it, giving herself up to all the delirious joy of his lips, his arms around her, his hands firm against her back. Happiness radiated through her whole body, and she wondered that her legs could even hold her up.

All too soon, he pulled away a little, still holding her with one hand while the other brushed a stray curl from her face.

“Sweet Katherine,” he whispered. “You need never be afraid. I will always take care of you.”

She hardly knew how she got back inside, she was so exhilarated. All she had dreamed of for so long… no, all that she had tried very hard not to dream of was suddenly hers. He loved her! Surely he loved her… or felt something for her that was more than friendship, more than simple kindness to a neighbour. I will always take care of you … that was almost a proposal of marriage, was it not? Almost… very close to one.

Yet as soon as they were back inside, he became practical again, moving the telescope back to its usual position. “This is where it should be,” he muttered, peering through the eyepiece and adjusting this and that until it was just as he wanted it.

Katherine was not composed enough to be still while he worked, so she walked round and round the small room, into the corners and out again, restlessly circling the furniture, until her foot caught something hard and she almost tripped. Her exclamation of surprise drew Kent’s attention.

“What is it?”

“Something tucked away behind this sofa… a bag of some sort.” It was a green leather portmanteau, rather worn, and firmly locked. “You definitely have a visitor.”

Kent picked it up and turned it over, then shrugged. “Someone has been staying here, that is true enough. If we ride down to Welwood, I can leave a note for Eustace to look into it, but it will be one of his men, I imagine.”

Katherine was too shivery and light-headed to quibble, so as soon as Kent was satisfied with the position of the telescope, they descended to the ground floor. Here Kent paused, his face unusually serious.

“You asked why a tower needs cellars. Katherine, I would have no secrets between us, so I will show you what goes on in the cellars.”

He disappeared into the one of the store rooms, emerging with a lantern and a key. In moments the lantern was lit, he unlocked the door and led the way into the darkness.

“The stairs are in good condition, but hold tight to the rope… or you can hold my hand if you prefer.”

She did prefer, so they slowly made their way down into the dank gloom of the cellar. It did not totally surprise her that there were a number of barrels stored there, for that, after all, was one of the purposes of a cellar. It was more surprising that the marks on them were in French.

“These are smuggled!” she said.

“They originated in France, yes. They arrive somewhere along the coast, I know not where, and eventually they end up here. We transfer the contents into local barrels, and then distribute them, and the French barrels are burned.”

“ We? You are involved in this?”

He shuffled his feet. “Well, yes. My part in the operation is to man the telescope when deliveries arrive, and take orders. Katherine, it goes on all over the country, you know. No one is harmed by it, after all.”

“But it is illegal!” she cried. “You are depriving the government of rightful duties.”

“No, because French wines and brandy would not reach these shores at all, if not for the smugglers. We are providing a service for those who can get their preferred drink no other way, and also offering work for local men.”

“Dishonest work, Mr Atherton. Illegal work, and it is immoral for you as a gentlemen to encourage working men into law-breaking. You should be setting an example. Would you be so tolerant if they were poaching from your father’s land?”

“Of course not, for that would be stealing! Nothing is stolen here, merely sold secretly.”

She could see that he was not about to acknowledge the wrongness of his actions, and she fell silent.

“Let us not fall out over this, Katherine,” he said quietly. “I did not wish to keep this a secret from you, but I can see that the idea is strange to you. Perhaps when you have thought a little about it—”

“You will never convince me that it is right.”

“Then let us say no more about it.”

They returned to the ground floor and thence outside. Kent punctiliously locked the door and replaced the key under its stone. They rode on to Welwood, left the note for Eustace who was away from home, and then rode back to Birchall in near silence. Kent made a few attempts to initiate conversation, but Katherine was too dazed to respond.

When she reached Cathcart House, he lifted her down from her horse, and this time his hands rested on her waist a little longer than necessary.

“I should be very sorry if this has damaged your good opinion of me,” he said quietly.

“It would not do so if you were to give it up,” she said.

He sighed. “I wish I could but it is a question of loyalty to… to those involved. The men depend on the income to feed their families. I cannot expect them to take the risk of being caught if I take no risk myself.”

“I understand you,” she said. “Goodbye, Mr Atherton.”

“Goodbye, Katherine. I hope we shall ride again very soon.”

She turned and walked slowly into the house, and straight up the stairs to her room. There were no tears. The matter was too serious for weeping.

It was the best day of her life, the day that Kent Atherton had kissed her and as good as told her he loved her.

It was the worst day of her life, for she knew beyond the slightest shadow of a doubt that she could never marry him.

For many days, and nights too, she fretted anxiously over her new knowledge. It was only after a particularly prolonged session of prayers at the rail of the Lady Chapel that she rose from her knees, her mind clear at last.

She knew what she must do.

***

K ent’s spirits were low. How could he have been so foolish as to reveal the smuggling operation to Katherine? The day had been so wonderful up to that point, and that moment on the balcony was one that would linger in his memory for ever. She was so trusting, so sweet, so innocent that he had been quite unable to resist her, entirely comfortable with the idea that he would marry her, in time.

But then he had remembered her insistence that there should be no secrets between husband and wife, and this was such a big secret that it could not be concealed indefinitely. Once they were married, he could not disappear for whole nights without raising suspicions in her mind, so she had to know… yet now she despised him, and he had no idea how to rectify the situation.

For some days, rain prevented any riding for pleasure, and he did not see Katherine at all. Eustace returned from wherever he had been — no one ever knew where Eustace went to, for he was always dashing about here and there, without a word to anyone.

‘Brother, I received your note about the tower, and have examined it carefully, but can find no trace now of anyone staying there. There is no bag to be found, and the blankets on the pallet are all neatly folded, with no plates or other items out of place. I can only conclude that some itinerant broke in, stayed for a few nights living on the meagre supplies in the store room, and when those were exhausted, moved on. There is no cause for alarm, therefore, although we might want to think of a less obvious place to hide the key. E.’

As the days slid past, Kent began to feel that he had made too much of Katherine’s reaction to the smuggling. She was a very upright person herself, so naturally it was a shock to her. Once she grew accustomed to the idea, she would think no more of it than anyone else. So when the rain continued, he called at Cathcart House but was unlucky enough to find her not at home. He sent a posy of flowers from the Corland hothouses, and a little note expressing the hope that he would see her again soon. There was nothing more he could do.

But then he received a terse note from Sir Hubert Strong asking him to call at Birchall House. Sir Hubert was the local magistrate and a genial sort of fellow, so Kent was unprepared for his worried face.

“A damnable business, Atherton,” Sir Hubert said, pressing a glass of something into his hand. “Quite damnable. Sit, will you, and I shall explain as succinctly as I can.”

“Whatever is it, sir?” Kent said, now thoroughly alarmed.

“I hardly know how to say this.” Sir Hubert rubbed his face tiredly. “The nub of the matter is this — someone has laid a charge against you.”

“A charge? Against me? What sort of charge?”

“Smuggling,” he said. “I have been told that you are operating a smuggling business from the tower at Welwood. You may guess whence this information emanates, I imagine.”

Kent set down his glass abruptly, for the wine tasted of ashes in his mouth. “Katherine Parish.”

“Indeed. Atherton, I am not cognisant of all that goes on in this parish, and my wife tells me I must be the world’s least observant magistrate, but even I was aware that… well, not to put too fine a point on it, that there was an understanding between the two of you. And now this! It is unfathomable to me.”

“And to me,” Kent said, jumping up and pacing across the room, too restless to be still. “I thought… it was better for her to know, and she disapproved, she made that very plain, but I did not expect this.”

“Disapproved! Aye, she disapproves all right. Asked me to use my powers as magistrate to warn you off — persuade you to give it up, as she put it. Talked a great deal about sin, and quoted the Bible at me. I had a very uncomfortable half hour, I can tell you.”

“What will you do?”

He sighed. “Miss Parish was very anxious to ensure that you would not hang. As if I would drag you off to the Assizes — the son of an earl, and a man of good unblemished character heretofore! Not that I could explain the way these things work, not to a young lady. But she has officially informed me of the matter, and therefore I must investigate, of course. Impossible to ignore so serious a charge. However, I believe…” He chewed his lip, looking speculatively at Kent. “I believe it will take me some days to gather together the necessary men for such an investigation. Wednesday, perhaps? At noon?”

Kent nodded. “Wednesday. Very well.”

Sir Hubert nodded, satisfied. “Good, good. I can leave that with you, then.”

Kent rode at once to Welwood. Eustace was away again, having stopped only one night, but Wallace, the head groom, was one of the regulars at the tower, and undertook to ensure that no trace of illegal activity would remain by Wednesday.

And then there was nothing for Kent to do but seethe with rage, and wonder that he could ever have been so foolish as to want to marry a woman like Katherine Parish.

That Sunday, he made a point of attending the service at St Timothy’s, knowing that she would be there. After the service, he made straight for her, where she stood in a cluster of Cathcarts.

“Miss Parish. A word, if you please.”

The colour flared in her cheeks, and for an instant he feared she would refuse, but she nodded and stepped a little aside with him to a quiet spot beside a yew tree.

“How dared you!” he hissed, as soon as they were far enough away from listening ears. “I trusted you with my secret, and you go running to the magistrate with the tale. What did you think you would achieve? Do you not understand that all the gentry for miles around benefit from our little scheme? Just as well, for otherwise we could all be hauled before a judge for it.”

“Which is precisely why you should not be doing such a terrible thing.”

“It is harmless.”

“It is illegal! A hanging offence!”

“Do you want me to hang, is that it? Do you hate me so much that you would see me swing from a gibbet?”

The colour flared again, and this time it was anger, not embarrassment. “You know I do not hate you, but I cannot stand aside and watch you walk into darkness. What is your life compared to your immortal soul? If you repent of your sins, you may yet be saved.”

“I thought we understood each other. I even dared to imagine a future with you, but how can I trust you after such a betrayal? Where is your loyalty to me?”

“My loyalty is to a higher power - the laws of man and of God.”

“What an insufferably sanctimonious woman you are. Thank heavens I found out your true nature before it was too late. Goodbye, Miss Parish.”