Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 02] Read online

  Charley’s skirt and cloak were caught up around her, pinning her legs together, making it nearly impossible to dig the heels of her half boots into the unstable mass beneath her. When she banged the back of her hand against a boulder, she managed to catch hold of the rock, breaking fingernails and crying out at the pain when one ripped below the quick. Feeling the wriggling body atop hers lurch awkwardly forward, almost making her lose her tenuous hold, she nearly snapped at the child to be still before she realized they had stopped sliding.

  “I haven’t got a good hold,” Letty said matter-of-factly, “but I think it would be wise to wait till the moon comes out again before I try to gain better purchase.”

  Aware that her own grip on the rough boulder was not reliable, Charley realized that until that moment she had not missed the moonlight. It was much darker than it had been before. She wondered if that was why she had not actually seen the coach topple over the edge, or if she had simply been too concerned about herself and Letty to notice. Knowing the two of them were far from being safe, she thrust aside all thought of the horror that had overtaken them. Whatever had happened below, she could do nothing about it now. She was not even certain she would be able to do much about her own predicament, but at least she and Letty were still alive. If they slid over the edge, their chances of remaining in that condition were small. The worst of it was that she did not know how near they were to the precipice.

  Letty stirred uncomfortably. “Cousin Charley—”

  “Hush,” Charley said, for another sound had reached her sharp ears from above. She nearly called out before she realized that the most likely persons to be at the cliff’s edge were the highwaymen. Giving thanks for the clouds that hid the moon, she wondered how long they would do so. Already, she could see silver ribbons of moonlight edging them. The cloak she wore was her favorite dark sapphire blue, to match her eyes, and she knew that the nearby rocks and slope were dark in more places than they were light, so she had reason to hope the men would not see them.

  Close to her ear, Letty murmured, “Won’t they help us?”

  Deciding that if the child had not given way to hysterics yet, she would not do so, Charley did not mince words. “No, darling, they won’t. They caused the accident, and we could speak against them to the authorities, so they dare not let us see their faces. We must keep very still and hope they don’t see us.”

  “My cloak is gray,” Letty whispered, “but they might see my hair when the moon peeks out again.”

  “Pull your cloak up,” Charley whispered back, realizing that the child’s bright carrot-colored mop of curls might well gleam like a beacon. “Move slowly, and don’t let go of that boulder if you can help it. I think if I don’t move, we won’t slide any more, but it’s best to be careful until we can be certain. Curl up so your cloak covers all of you. And keep very still.”

  “I don’t think they can hear us,” Letty muttered. “I can barely hear their voices, or their horses.”

  “No, but sound travels up better than down, I think, and the more quiet we are the less likely we are to draw their notice.”

  Letty was silent. Moving slowly and cautiously, she curled into a ball with her cloak covering her. Just before she grew still again and silver moonlight touched the rocks around them, a piece of wool flopped over Charley’s face.

  She heard the men’s voices again. Her hearing was acute, but she could not make out their words, nor did she think she would know the voices if she heard them again. The light faded, but Charley and Letty kept perfectly still.

  Charley was astonished by her small cousin’s presence of mind. She did not know Letty well, for the child had spent her entire life on the Continent. Though only nine, she was an expert horsewoman and more accustomed than most children her age to conversing with adults. Her parents, unlike most, had not relegated their children to the care of nurses and governesses, but spent a good deal of time with them, and enjoyed their company. Lord Abreston, heir to the Marquessate of Jervaulx, having served with distinction as a brigade major in Wellington’s Army, presently held a diplomatic position with the British Embassy in Paris, a fact that both amused and astonished those well acquainted with Daintry, his outspoken wife. The couple had retained close ties to their home, however, and their two sons—both younger than Letty—would soon return to England for school. Letty herself was in England now to begin a six-months’ visit to her mama’s family at Tuscombe Park, but this, Charley told herself grimly, was not the introduction to Cornwall that her Aunt Daintry had intended the child to enjoy.

  Antony hesitated only long enough after hearing the crash to peer through the darkness toward the sea. Still no signal, but he dared not leave lantern or tinderbox behind. Snatching them both up, he raced along the shingle to the broken carriage. Both horses were clearly dead, which was just as well, he thought. He could not bear to see animals suffer, but he could not have risked a gunshot down here and the mere thought of using his knife to put them out of their misery made him feel ill.

  A moan from the carriage snapped his head around. He had not thought anyone could live through such an accident. The moon peeked out again, and he went still, knowing he might be seen from above. Slowly he tilted his head up, keeping one gloved hand over his face so the moon could not reveal it. Whoever had fired the shots he had heard earlier might well be peering down at him.

  He realized quickly that even if they were up there, they would not see him unless they climbed out onto the headland, and the portion that overlooked his position was exceedingly treacherous. On the far side, facing St. Merryn’s Bay, the slope was less precipitous. There was even a road leading to the point, where a lovely big house perched, enjoying a broad, sweeping view of St. Merryn’s Bay and the Channel.

  Even as these thoughts flew through his mind he stooped over the wreckage, trying to see past broken bits of coach to what lay within. He dared not risk a light, and the fickle moon had slipped behind another cloud. The moan came again, faintly. He moved a piece of the wreckage and found a man’s crushed and broken body. The moans were not coming from him.

  Moving with more care than ever, Antony shifted another piece of the carriage, and pale silvery light revealed a woman. She was badly injured, and he saw at once that there was nothing he could do to help her. She opened her eyes.

  “Charley?” The word was clear but faint. When she tried to speak again, she could not.

  Antony took her hand, wanting only to give her comfort. “I’m here,” he said gently. “I won’t leave you.”

  “Thank you.” Her eyes closed. A moment later, the hand in his went limp. She was gone.

  A hail of pebbles from above startled him and reminded him that men had been chasing the coach. He did not think they had started the pebbles falling, however. Far more likely, the careening coach had dislodged them and perhaps had loosened much bigger rocks. If he were wise, he would move before one of those fell on him. He would do the Duke no good if he were found smashed flat on a Cornish beach.

  Briefly he wondered if the men would try to ride down to the beach. Having thought the coach worth robbing in the first place, they might believe it worth searching now. A path of sorts wound down the cliffside, one that a good horse could follow in daylight, but he had not attempted to bring Annabelle down it in the dark, and she was as surefooted as an army mule. He did not think anyone would come.

  He had been keeping an eye on the sea and at last he saw what he had been waiting for. Light flashed from a covered lantern. Two more flashes followed. Swiftly, he opened his tinderbox and lit a sulfur match. Seconds later his lantern was lit. As he moved away from the wreckage, he saw yet another flash of light at the eastern end of the beach. So Michael had not trusted him to meet the Frenchmen alone. Not surprising. Since the man had known him less than a fortnight, he had been more surprised at being ordered to go without a second. A test, no doubt. He wondered if the other watcher had seen the coach plunge over the cliff. He did not remember seeing carriage
lanterns. No doubt they had been broken and their lights extinguished soon after the coach left the road. It had probably rolled several times. He would have to consider carefully what he was going to do about it.

  “Cousin Charley, I think they’ve gone.”

  “Keep still a few minutes longer, Letty.” But Charley, too, had heard sounds of departing horses above them. She could feel the chill of the rock beneath her, and she could feel the child trembling.

  “I-I lost my muff,” Letty said in a small voice.

  Charley knew she was concerned about much more than a fur muff, and she thought a moment before she said, “We cannot think just now about what we have lost, Letty. We must think about getting ourselves out of this predicament. That is the only thing, right now, that we can do anything about.”

  “It … it is very far down to the beach, is it not?”

  “Very far,” Charley agreed, “but if we keep our wits about us, we won’t fall.” She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. To the best of her knowledge they were some twenty or thirty feet below the road, not far from where the slope of the headland met the side of the cliff, and perilously near the edge of that slope. It was, after all, little more than the point at which two cliff faces came together at slightly more than a right angle. In daylight a man in buckskins and wearing gloves might be able to climb back to the road easily. At night, with an unknown enemy nearby, two females in long skirts and heavy cloaks would not have an easy time, even though one of them wore stout half boots.

  “Were you injured, darling?”

  “I don’t think so,” Letty said. “I hit my head on the carriage door, but it was only a bump, and then I fell on you. Oh, and my hand is scraped, I think, where I first grabbed the rock. What about you?”

  “I don’t want to think about it,” Charley said. “I don’t think I broke any bones, but I am beginning to feel a few aches and pains, and I am quite sure I bounced against a few rather pointed rocks. My cloak protected me from the worst, although I did bang the back of my head when we landed, hard enough to make me see more stars than are showing above us tonight. I think your head must have hit my chin at the same time.”

  “The moon is—Listen!”

  A rattle of loose stones and pebbles startled both of them, but a moment later a chirping sound made Letty stiffen, then call out in a low, excited voice, “Jeremiah!”

  More chattering accompanied another rattle of stones. Then four small paws touched Charley’s shoulder before the little monkey dove under Letty’s cloak.

  “Oh, Jeremiah, I was so worried about you! I thought you must have been killed. Oh, Cousin Charley, do you think Uncle Charles and Aunt Davina might have been thrown clear, too?”

  Tempted though she was to say that anything was possible, Charley was a firm believer in honesty. She had loathed being lied to as a child, especially by grown-ups who insisted later that they had done so for her own good. Her Aunt Daintry had always been honest with her. She owed that same honesty to Daintry’s daughter. “No,” she said with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach and a shiver of horror as she remembered her mother’s screams, “I do not think they were thrown clear. They were still in the coach when it went over the edge.”

  Letty was silent. Then she said, “Those men on the road are gone. I think we had better see what we can do about finding a safer place for ourselves. I do not think we should try to climb back to the road till we can see what we are doing, do you?”

  “No, and you make a sensible suggestion. I confess, I am afraid to shift my position. The rocks under me are very loose and I fear the slightest movement might start us sliding again.”

  “Well, I think I can get behind this boulder I’ve been clinging to,” Letty said. “If I can, then I can brace my feet against it, and if you hold my hand, I think you can inch up behind it, too.”

  Charley’s first, terrified impulse was to tell the child not to move a muscle, but she was getting cold, and knew that eventually one of them would have to try. Better to do so, she decided, while they both still had some control over their limbs, and better that Letty try. The child would have no chance of holding her if she slipped, but she might hold the child.

  Letty said, “I can get between you and the boulder, I think, but my cloak and skirt are dreadfully in my way, and these slippers I’m wearing do nothing to protect my feet or give me traction.”

  Charley felt her wriggle some more and did not speak, focusing all her attention on keeping her own body flat and perfectly still against the loose scree. She heard Jeremiah protest when Letty removed him from beneath her cloak. When the child shifted her weight off Charley, Charley felt as if she were beginning to slide again, but the sensation soon passed.

  “I’ve got my feet against your side,” Letty said. “This boulder seems stable. I am going to stand up.”

  Charley held her breath. A moment later, Letty dropped her cloak over her. Odd noises and movements followed, and even in the dim light, Charley could see the child doing something to her clothing. “What are you doing?”

  “Tucking up my skirt,” Letty said. “If I slip, I don’t want it getting tangled round my legs again. It’s all right,” she added, with amusement in her voice. “I’ve got on my dimity pantalets with the Swiss lace that Mama bought me just before we left Paris, so if anyone should chance to see me—”

  “You’ll shock them witless,” Charley murmured. “I brought a pair, myself, but I am not wearing them because my mama thinks—” She broke off, realizing the tense of the verb was probably wrong, then added with forced calm, “She thinks only men should wear pantaloons of any kind, but that’s only because of Lady Charlotte Lindsey’s having lost one leg of hers as she walked down Piccadilly, and causing such a stir. Mine are fashioned in such a way that one side cannot fall off by itself.”

  “Mine, too.” Letty fell silent for a long moment, then said on a note of satisfaction, “There. Now I’m holding the boulder with both hands, and it is as steady as can be. Just one more moment.”

  Charley felt loose pebbles sliding past her with each step Letty took, and kept tight hold of the base of the boulder with her left hand. Her arm was stretched to its full reach, however, and she knew that if she trusted her weight to that slight handhold, or tried to pull herself toward the boulder, she would lose her tenuous grip. Difficult as it was for a woman of her active nature, she knew she had to keep still until the child was as safe as she could make herself.

  Without warning, Letty’s cloak was whisked off her. “Now, Cousin Charley,” the child said. “I am sitting on my cloak, and my feet are pushing hard against the boulder. It hasn’t twitched. If I hold your hand with both of mine—”

  “No,” Charley said firmly. “You must hold the boulder or some other solid object with your right hand. If both of your hands are holding mine and I begin to slip, my weight could yank you right out of there. Reach out your left hand from near the base of the boulder. When you find my hand, grasp my wrist as tightly as you can. Then I’ll hold your wrist. Your mother taught—”

  “Oh, I know,” Letty exclaimed. “It’s the way she swings me up to ride pillion with her.”

  “Right,” Charley agreed.

  The little girl’s hand seemed very small, her wrist far too slender and fragile for the purpose, but her grip was tight and the slender arm steady when Charley grasped it. Charley’s legs were still tangled in her skirts, so she spent several long moments moving slowly and carefully, using her free hand to twitch them free. When she could use her heels to dig into the scree, she inched her way up, but a few moments later when she tried to sit, the unstable surface beneath her shifted. Only Letty’s tight grip kept her from sliding.

  “Cousin Charley, are you sure sound travels up more easily than down?”

  “I think so,” Charley said, willing her heart to stop pounding and forcing her breathing to slow down. “Why do you ask, darling?”

  “Because there are men and lights on the beach,” L
etty said. “I don’t think they can see us, but a lot of loose rocks went over the edge just then.”

  “Do you think they can be the highwaymen?”

  “I don’t know. Most of them came in a boat, I think. I can just barely see a dark shape farther out on the water that might be a ship. The little boat is leaving again, but there are at least two men still on the beach!”

  “Hold tight, Letty. I’m going to try again.”

  As Antony helped carry cargo from the longboat to the cave where it would be stored till the ponies collected it for transport, he thought about Wellington’s warning against involving himself in criminal activities. If revenuers surprised them, they would have nowhere but the caves to hide. Michael had assured him that folks in south Cornwall were friendly to the free traders, but he was risking a lot on Michael’s word, and he had little reason to trust the man—no more, in fact, than Michael had to trust him. The man had taken him on faith—that, and reference to a mutual acquaintance in France who would (if he knew what was good for him) vouch for Antony’s “good” character. As yet Antony had heard nothing about an assassination plot, but he knew the locals would continue to test him for some time.