But now, after two years living in the shadows, Jago believed he was finally close to unmasking the man who’d murdered his sister.
∞∞∞
Against the odds, Charity actually did fall asleep, lulled by the rhythmic rocking of the carriage. As she woke, she thought for a second that she and Chastity were on their way to Ravenstone. When memory came crashing back, she was consumed by a sudden sense of loss. Exasperating though Chastity very often was, Charity suddenly found herself missing her twin fiercely.
Reluctantly opening her eyes, Charity leaned forward to look out of the window. The scenery was much as before, rolling green hills and tall hedgerows giving no clue as to how far along their journey they were. However, the watery sun was now much lower in the sky indicating they were well into the afternoon.
Picking at the bread and cheese Mrs Tomlinson had packed for them, Charity regarded her father as he sat snoring opposite. This was almost certainly the first occasion she’d spent time alone in his company. Indeed, over the years, she and her twin had almost perfected the art of avoiding their irascible parent outside of supper. Sighing, she broke off a piece of cheese and handed it to Freddy, who was lying sprawled across her lap, a veritable fur blanket.
Stroking his head gently, she wondered about Percy’s mother. Hopefully, the elderly matron would not have departed to her reward before she and her father got there. Charity had never been to Salcombe. She was aware that the small fishing village was situated on the south Devon coast, close to the larger ports of Kingsbridge and Dartmouth, but she’d had no idea that Percy had relatives there. It was difficult to actually imagine her father’s curate as a child, he’d simply been a part of her life since she could remember. He was … well, he was …Percy.
A long sigh brought her head up from the rough fur of the foxhound. Her father was awake and staring out of the carriage window, his brow creased as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Unexpectedly, she felt a stirring of sympathy. Her father must be worried indeed to have dropped everything to rush to Percy’s aid. It certainly showed that, while he might not exhibit much compassion outwardly, he obviously cared deeply about his curate.
‘I’m sure Percy will be extremely grateful for your presence, Father, at such a difficult time,’ Charity murmured softly.
At first, she thought he hadn’t heard, but after a few seconds, he turned towards her and shook his head before speaking. ‘There’s no sense beating around the deuced bush,’ he declared, the brusqueness in his voice causing Charity’s heart to stutter unpleasantly. ‘You might as well know what we’re getting ourselves into.’
‘I’m no stranger to a sick bed, Father,’ she interrupted bravely.
His answer was a rude snort. ‘Then it’s good you won’t be attending one. Old Mrs Noon’s not about to cash in her chips, though that might well change pretty sharpish if I don’t put a good word in for her.’
Charity frowned. ‘Couldn’t you have done that at home, Father? I mean after all, surely the best place for prayer is in the church.’
‘Mary Noon’s soul is not a discussion the Almighty and I are likely to have anytime soon,’ retorted the Reverend. ‘And anyway, that’s Percy’s job. If there’s an outside chance of his mother slipping through the back door to the heavenly hereafter, I’m certain Percy will find it.’
Charity stared at him nonplussed. ‘Then why are you rushing to her aid?’ she queried, ‘If not God, who are you intending to petition?’
‘The Custom’s officer in Dartmouth,’ her father responded flatly. ‘Mary was caught with half a dozen bladders of brandy sown inside her stays. It’s a wonder she managed to walk at all.’
∞∞∞
In the end, the extra precautions Jago took were for naught. The man did not turn up. Though inwardly seething, he made sure to stay until nearly closing time. It would not have done to arrive and leave before the busy period. People tended to remember. He ordered ham and eggs for his supper, taking care to give just enough attention to the young and attractive bar maid. It wasn’t difficult. She still had most of her teeth and her smile hadn’t yet become too jaded.
Finally heading out into the chill, damp air, Jago briefly allowed his frustration to swamp him. And that small loss of concentration was all it took. In seconds, an arm snaked around his neck and a knife was at his throat.
‘You waitin’ fer someone?’ whispered a voice in his ear. Rancid breath drifted towards his nose, almost making him gag. Cursing inwardly, Jago forced down his fury and self-contempt at being caught with his proverbial britches down. All his caution wasted in a momentary fit of petulance. The street was deserted, so help of any kind was unlikely.
Jago took as deep a breath as he dared with the edge of the knife digging into the tender skin at his throat. Fighting for calm, he spoke, keeping his voice low and composed. ‘I had a meeting with Jack.’
‘Says who?’ The arm tightened, and Jago felt his anger rise. ‘You know who I am,’ he whispered through gritted teeth. ‘If you didn’t, you’d have slit my throat by now. Take me to Jack, and be done with it. I have information for him.’ He paused and felt the sweat begin beading on his forehead as the knife pressed harder into his neck.
‘Tell him I want in. He won’t regret it,’ Jago ground out, trying not to let desperation colour his voice. There was a silence behind him, then slowly, the shadowy figure stepped back and lowered the knife. Jago took a deep breath and clenched his hands to stop their trembling. Stepping carefully out of reach, he slowly pivoted until he was facing his attacker.
‘Jack ain’t comin’. He sent me instead.’
Jago ground his teeth in frustration. It had taken nearly two years to get this far. But now, finally, when he was about to discover the elusive Jack’s real identity, the bastard had slipped out of his reach again. He eyed the sorry-looking individual watching him. It was almost pitch black, the only light coming from the Seven Stars behind the man, but it was enough to reveal a tall skinny individual in tattered clothing with a facethat had likely last seen water years ago. It was clear the man was completely expendable to the mysterious leader of the smuggling ring working this stretch of coast.
‘Tell Jack I want in,’ he repeated as evenly as his thudding heart would allow. ‘I have information he’ll want, but I’m not giving it to a bloody lackey. It’s face-to-face or nothing.’
‘You ain’t got no chance o’ that,’ the messenger sneered. ‘Jack don’t jump for the likes o’you.’
Jago shook his head, then took a chance. ‘Trust works both ways,’ he bit out. ‘I have something Jack wants. He has something I want. Tell him, all he has to do is let me in, and I swear I’ll make us both rich.’
∞∞∞
After barely scratching the surface ofwhat they were getting into, her father had been disinclined to answer any more questions aside from informing her they were heading for Dartmouth rather than Salcombe since that was where Mary Noon was incarcerated. At length, Charity subsided into frustrated silence. She wondered what on earth Grace would have to say when she found out.
As if he could read her mind, her father elicited her promise that under no circumstances was she to mention their true mission to another living soul.Especiallynot her eldest sister. Andmost expresslynot her eldest sister’s husband.
