Eugenie went to the stables the following morning to see how Tommy was, and whether he needed anything, but Cook seemed to have adopted him as her patient and had provided all that was necessary, and some special treats into the bargain.
'I'm doin' fine, Miss,' he said. 'I just wish I 'adn't caused so much fuss, but everyone's bin so kind. 'Ave you 'eard from Lord George?'
He sounded apprehensive, and she wondered whether he was worried about what would happen when George returned, as he probably would. Might George deny his story? It seemed probable. But what would he say to explain Tommy's injuries?
She turned to go, and saw a village woman come hesitantly into the stable yard. She looked familiar, and Eugenie recognised Dickon's wife Meg, whom she had seen on Boxing Day.
'Can I help you?' she asked, and Meg shook her head.
'I were wantin' ter see Lord George,' she said. 'It's Dickon, see, 'e's bin took by Excise men, but his lordship never paid 'im fer the last time.'
'Taken by the Excise? How do you know?'
'Hal got away, see, an' come ter tell me. But 'e's gone away, an' wouldn't let on where 'e was goin'. Afraid they'd follow 'im if Dickon told 'em where 'e lived.'
Eugenie was thinking fast. 'Did Dickon take messages for Lord George?' she asked.
'Aye, an' papers.'
Papers? This sounded decidedly odd. What sort of papers would George be sending with this man, and where?
'I see. Look, Meg, I think you'd better come in and tell the Duke. Lord George hasn't returned home, and we are all worried.'
Meg shook her head, looking frightened. 'No, Miss, I can't, I don't want ter bother 'is Grace.'
'But you are the only one able to help us. And the Duke will pay you,' she added. If he would not, she'd pay the woman herself.
Meg looked undecided, but her eyes had brightened at the mention of money.
'Lord George ain' 'ere?' she asked as Eugenie took her arm and guided her towards the kitchen.
'No. Tell me, does he ever go with Dickon? And where do they go?'
'Every so often, 'is Lordship 'as ter go with 'em, Dickon says, ter collect some kind o' payment, see.'
'Where do they go? Is it always the same place?'
'I don't know. It's somewhere on the coast, but Dickon never said where, an' I think it's somewhere different each time. I've 'eard Dickon an' 'Al talk sometimes, planning where ter ride, and they've mentioned Portsmouth an' Lymington, and once, when they was away longer than normal, I think they went ter Charmouth.'
Fortunately the Duke was in his study, and Eugenie ushered Meg in and slipped to sit near the window, for she was eager to hear more. Her uncle greeted Meg kindly, but looked puzzled. He looked at Eugenie for enlightenment, and she explained briefly.
'Meg may be able to explain where George is,' she said. 'Don't be afraid, Meg, just tell his Grace what you told me.'
The Duke listened, and questioned her carefully. She could add no more than she had already told Eugenie, but began to sob when she said she was sure the Excise men had captured Dickon, and he would be put in Newgate gaol.
'I'll try to discover what has happened to him,' the Duke said. 'Meanwhile, how much did my son pay Dickon?'
'A shillin' a time, Dickon said, but I think that was what 'e told me. After, 'e allus 'ad money ter spend in alehouse. Hal too, so perhaps they both got paid.'
'Hal isn't married, is he?'
She shook her head. 'No, 'e lives wi' us.'
The Duke dug a hand into his pocket, and handed Meg two shillings. 'Here, that will help you for a while, until we discover what has happened.'
Meg looked astonished, but bobbed a curtsey. 'Oh, your Grace, thank you!'
'Go home now, and if I discover anything I'll send to let you know.'
*
George did not come home before dinner, and after the servants had left the Duke told Arabella and Eugenie what he assumed had been happening.
'I had government papers in my desk, so I think that was why the lock was broken, not for money.'
'Were any missing?' Arabella asked.
'No, or I would have realised earlier what was happening. I suspect he just copied what he thought was important, and has been selling them, and I can only assume to the French.'
'Betraying his country? Oh Jerome!'
The Duke sighed. 'Yes, and I cannot say how ashamed I am of my son. It is bad enough he gambled and ran up thousands of pounds of debt, but this is far worse.'
'Were they important papers?' Eugenie asked.
'Not of vital importance. They were not battle plans or details of troop movements that would compromise the war. I would never have brought those home. They were reports from our agents in France about the possible support we might get, or the opposition to Napoleon. But they came from specific areas, and some contained the names of our friends, both agents and Frenchmen loyal to the crown. I was working on compiling lists of where we might find support once Wellington invades.'
Eugenie thought of Hugues. Was his name amongst these? 'What will happen to these people?'
'It depends who has the papers. Some of our agents may not be able to work in France again. I can only hope they can get out before they are betrayed. The French sympathisers, I'm afraid, may suffer.'
They were silent, contemplating this, when suddenly there was a commotion in the hall and the door burst open. George, dishevelled, his coat torn, and looking wild, ran into the room followed by a concerned looking Compton. George collapsed onto a chair and seized a carafe of wine.
'Bring me a glass,' he ordered, and when Compton did so he poured the wine, drank it swiftly, and refilled the glass. 'Now get out.'
'So you are adding incivility to your treason,' the Duke said. 'How did a son of mine come to this?'
'You don't care what happens to me, you never have done!'
'Just tell me what happened. I understand the Excise men captured your poor fool Dickon. Where was this?'
George glared at him, then sighed. 'Lymington. Not in the town. It was at a small beach up the river. I don't know who betrayed us, but they were waiting. They got the Frenchmen who owned the boat too, even though they were disguised and one of them spoke good English.'
'Smugglers?'
'That was what they pretended to be, and they did bring a few casks of brandy, but they paid us, not us paying them. But someone betrayed us,' he repeated, 'and it will go badly for them when I catch them!'
'You talk of betrayal?' Arabella exclaimed. 'You have betrayed your father and your country, for more money just to lose it gambling!'
'Be quiet! I know how you have always influenced my father against me, and are hoping there's a son in your belly to take my place.'
At this the Duke rose to his feet and loomed over George. 'You will apologise for that, or big as you are I'll thrash your hide until it's raw!'
George sneered. 'I suppose unless I knuckle down to you you'll disown me? I apologise for telling the truth, madame Duchess! I must get away somewhere. God, how I wish I could get out of this wretched country!'
Arabella looked as though she wished the same for him. She was furiously angry, but trying to remain calm.
'Why don't you enlist in a regiment that's sailing for Canada?' Eugenie asked. 'That way, if you do it quickly, you could evade the punishment you deserve and escape from the men looking for you.'
George looked at her, and instead of the scorn she expected him to pour on her suggestion, he actually smiled.
'And by the time you come back, if you stay away for long enough, this will be forgotten,' Arabella added. Her tone was curt, and she was clearly still furious.
'Or I'll be dead and you won't be bothered by me any more,' George said.
The Duke sat down again, looking thoughtful. 'You have said you might like to join the army. Now, I think you have to, or face a criminal charge of treason. You know what that means?'
'You'd be glad to see me hanging at Tyburn, no doubt.'
'No, and to avoid the risk of that, I will take you to London immediately and have you enlist. Go and pack a cloak bag, no more. You won't need more than the minimum, and we can set off at once. We can drive some way tonight and be in London tomorrow in time to see some friends of mine and make the arrangements.'
*
They left within twenty minutes, while Arabella and Eugenie retreated to the drawing room.
'Will my uncle be able to have him enlisted?'
'Yes, I'm sure. Jerome does not promise what he cannot achieve, and being in the Government means he knows almost everyone of importance. I'm sure George will be gone within weeks. Unless the excise men recognised him or Dickon has betrayed him, and they follow him.'
'I hope he gets away, for your sake and my uncle's.'
'He, Jerome, does love the boy despite his behaviour.'
'Will my uncle get into trouble for helping him escape?' This was something that had occurred to Eugenie almost as soon as she had made her suggestion and the Duke had begun to plan how to help his son.
'No, I'm sure he won't. It will all be done very discreetly, and George will probably use another name. I know it's wrong, he ought to be punished for his treachery, but the scandal if he were caught would devastate Jerome, and apart from personal embarrassment he would refuse to serve in Government any more, and that would be a disaster for the country.'
Eugenie nodded. She understood her uncle's position, but wanted George punished. Perhaps, she thought, being in the army, thrust overseas and forced to obey his superiors, would be punishment enough for her wretched cousin. And he might be killed. She hastily dismissed the thought. Of course she did not wish that. Arabella began to speak again.
'He was right when he said I hoped for a boy,' she said quietly. 'Not to supplant him, that could only happen if he were dead, but I have felt so different this time, not at all the same as when I carried the girls. Some old wise woman once told me boys in the womb were different from girls. I don't mind which it is, but Jerome would like another son whatever happens to George.'
'Then I hope it is a boy.'
'Yes, but my Mama said boys are always more delicate than girls, harder to rear. I suppose she felt that way because she lost three boys before they were two years old, between Serena and me.'
'I think Mama lost a son too, before I was born,' Eugenie said, 'though she never spoke of it to me.'
They sat in silence for a while and then the tea tray was brought in. After she had her cup Eugenie decided she must tell Arabella about the use George had made of the door through to the old castle ruins.
She explained. 'He obviously had a key, when Uncle Jerome thought there were no more. I wondered whether anyone else, either someone in the house or one of George's friends in the village, might have another?'
Arabella shivered. 'Oh dear, and you are in that bedroom right beside it. Do you wish to move?'
'No, but I think it might be wise to nail that door shut at once. Can you ask someone to do it?'
'I'll ask Compton to do it, and he will be discreet.'
She rang the bell, and explained to the butler that they knew of one key that had been used, and were afraid there might be others in the wrong hands.
He was most indignant. 'I'll see to it at once, my lady. We need to know who has access to the house.'
'Has he been with you long?' Eugenie asked when the butler had left them. 'He seemed to take it as a personal insult that there was something he didn't know about the house.'
Arabella laughed. 'He was a footman here when Jerome was born, and I believe he feels it is as much his house as ours. Well, we can safely leave that to him, and I'm ready for sleep.'
*
For some reason Eugenie was restless, unable to sleep. Perhaps it was the moonlight coming in through a gap in the curtains. She had left the curtains round the bed open, and one of the window curtains had been caught up. She would perhaps sleep better if she closed them. It did no good, however, she still lay sleepless. Then, startling her, she heard a scraping noise that at first she could not place. It came from outside her room, and suddenly she was sure it was someone trying to open the door, now safely nailed shut. It sounded just like the key being turned in the lock. But that would do whoever it was no good.
She lay wondering who was attempting to get into the house, and for what purpose. George was on his way to London. Dickon, she hoped, was still being held by the Excise men. His brother Hal had, according to Meg, gone away. But had he? And did he have a different key, or had George given him his? If so, why? Or, and this thought worried her more than the others, was there someone else involved?
For a few crazy moments she was tempted to go and speak to whoever it was, demand to know what they were about, but she thrust the thought aside. For one thing, even if they could hear her through the thick door, they were not likely to answer. And for another, they would not tell her the truth. She would just frighten them away and what she really wanted was to catch them. But how could she do that? All she could do was to watch through her window and try to make out any intruder as he retreated.
She threw on a wrap, for the fire had died down just to embers, and it was cold. Then she dragged a stool to the window, carefully pulled aside the curtain, and waited. It did not take long. From the ruins came a horse and rider. It was not one of the shaggy ponies many of the locals rode, if they could afford a horse at all, but a sleek animal which looked a ghostly grey in the moonlight. She could not identify the rider, apart from noticing he was tall and seemed to be dressed entirely in black. It did not, she decided, look like any of the villagers, who would be unlikely to have such a mount. So just who was George involved with, and what would they now do, deprived of surreptitious entry to the house?
Thoughtful, after watching the mysterious rider cross the park and disappear into the belt of trees at its edge, she went back to bed, to lie sleepless until Jenny brought her morning chocolate. She did not want to tell Arabella, to cause her worry, and her uncle would not be back for several days. She could only hope the visitor would realise his clandestine efforts to gain entry to the house were useless, and desist.
*
For a whole day Eugenie could not decide whether to tell anyone of the nocturnal visitor. She didn't want to frighten Arabella, but if she confided in Compton and he organised some kind of watch during the night, would he feel bound to tell her? In the end she decided to wait until the following day, and see whether the intruder came back that night. She lay with her window slightly open, in the hope of hearing a horse, and had her door ajar, the better to hear any attempt to gain access by the nailed-up door. Nothing occurred and she decided she had slept too heavily after her previous disturbed night. She looked out of her window and saw that a few inches of snow had fallen at some time during the night. If it had come early it might show any hoof prints, so she dressed quickly and went outside to inspect the ground, but the snow lay undisturbed.
She went on to the stables to visit Tommy. It was taking the man a long time to recover from his injuries, and Eugenie suspected he was finding his situation comfortable, with good food from Cook, and the chance to rest while he regained his full strength.
'Tell me about the attack,' she said. 'Why did Lord George turn on you at that place? Had something happened, such as another man coming to speak to him?'
Tommy shook his head. 'No, Miss, there was nothin'. We was goin' through a bit of a wood, so mebee it was 'cause no one was lookin'.'
That sounded reasonable to Eugenie. George would not want to risk being seen attacking his escort. Tommy could tell her no more, not even whether George had ridden on in the same direction, or turned aside. When she questioned him more closely it seemed that they were in the New Forest when the attack happened, which was the way towards Lymington and the rendezvous with the French boat.
She thanked him, though she had learned nothing new or useful, and turned to leave him. She was walking slowly towards the kitchen door when a rider clattered into the stable yard. It was a grey horse, very similar to the one she had seen two nights before, a big, sturdy riding horse. So startled was she at this she did not look at the rider until a familiar voice hailed her.
'Well met, Mistress Eugenie.'
Eugenie looked up and saw the Earl regarding her with what seemed like unfriendly eyes.
'Oh, it's you! Why are you here?'
He dismounted and handed the horse over to a groom who had come running.
'I'll be leaving again within the hour,' he said, 'so don't unsaddle him. Just cover him with a rug.'
'Leaving?' Eugenie felt as stupid as she decided she sounded. Why was the Earl here? She had not known he was in the district, and surely if he had been here two nights since he would have contacted them? Had he been riding the grey? Was it the same horse? There were so many questions, but before she could voice any of them he spoke.
'Where is George? Is he here?'
'George?'
'Yes, your cousin!'
He had never before spoken so curtly to her, and she frowned in puzzlement.
'I know he is my cousin!' she replied, her temper rising. 'Why do you want him?'
'Where is he?' he repeated. 'Can't you answer a simple question?'
'He's in London, with his father, and I think you need to answer some questions, too, coming here like this, and trying to get into the house secretly!'
'What do you say?'
'Do you have a separate key to the door from the ruins, or did you take George's? Or did he give it to you?'
He took her arm, and though she did her best to shake it off he held on to her and steered her towards the house.
'Come inside. I can't explain here. Why is George in London?' he asked, despite his caution about talking where grooms or other servants could overhear him.
Eugenie was thankful George and her uncle had departed in such a hurry. By now, she hoped, they would be in London and the Earl could not, even if he wished to, follow and detain George. She had no idea whether, once enlisted, George would be safe from the law, but she felt certain her uncle would have made certain he sailed within days.
'He's gone to enlist.'
'Enlist? And escape retribution, I suppose. Do you know what damage you've done, with your infernal meddling?' He sounded furious, angrier than she had ever known him.
'Damage?'
'Yes, to me and others like me, and a few hundred friendly Frenchman and women!'
*