Chapter 36

Chapter Thirty-Six

A pensive Victoria waved Robert, along with the two wagons laden with produce, a fond farewell as he set out for the market in Cambridge a day later. Before leaving, he'd proudly shown her the contents of the first of the wagons: various fruits and vegetables, along with some small jars of saffron. But when it came to the second wagon, Robert had merely waved his hand at it in a wordless gesture which said it contained pretty much the same as the first wagon and she needn't bother examining its contents.

Both wagons were covered, and their loads tied down. At first glance they did indeed appear to be the same, but as the small convoy of wagons, accompanied by Robert on horseback, slowly made its way down the drive Victoria noted that the second wagon sat lower on the road. The wheels groaned as they turned. Whatever was on board was heavy.

Her husband was keeping things from her, and she had a horrid suspicion it had something to do with what she had seen the other night in the laneway.

I don't know what is going on. I shouldn't go making dangerous assumptions.

She tried to talk sense to herself. Tried to calm her racing heart. There could be a perfectly reasonable explanation for Robert being absent from their bed late at night. For him and some of the estate workers to be moving crates and barrels in the dark. And for her husband and his steward to both be toting loaded weapons. What did she know, perhaps the lead up to market day was always like this, late nights and early mornings.

Victoria stood watching until the last wagon had dipped below the rise in the road and disappeared from sight.

"I could simply ask him when he gets home," she whispered to herself. By raising the subject along with her concerns, Robert could be able to understand her worries and no doubt help set her mind at ease.

But she couldn't think of any plausible reason for the need for such secrecy. Or for him to so blatantly lie to her.

Walking back into the house, Victoria considered her next move. Robert would be gone all day and was not expected home until late tonight. If she was going to succumb to temptation and go snooping about the estate, this would be her best chance.

She gave it an hour after she had eaten supper to finally make her move. By that time, the household servants had finished their work for the day and gone downstairs.

Alone in her and Robert's bedroom, Victoria opened her husband's wardrobe and took out his spare greatcoat. Locating the keys proved a much harder task.

Her efforts at hiding the whisky bottle at the back of her chest of drawers in London paled against the clever way Robert had managed to hide the elusive key ring. A good half hour of rummaging through the bottom of the wardrobe and her search had yielded nothing.

Standing back from the cupboard, hands on hips, Victoria glanced up at the higher shelves and muttered a few unladylike words. It didn't help that Robert was well over six foot tall, while she only managed a respectable five foot five.

Grabbing a chair from the nearby sitting room, Victoria hauled it into the bedroom. Hiking her skirts up, she climbed onto it, and began searching the lower of the two main shelves. Her search yielded an interesting array of pieces. Various tins filled with old, and likely valuable, coins. Some odd pieces of jewelry, including a rather lovely silver and ruby bracelet. Victoria made a mental note to let Robert know how much she loved rubies and that her birthday wasn't all that far away.

But no key ring.

"Damn, where did he hide it?" she muttered.

He'd only taken a moment to hide the keys, so she must be close to finding them. Then a horrid thought stuck her. What if he had moved them before he left this morning? She could be looking in the wrong place entirely.

Victoria shook her head. No. Robert had actually remained in their bed all of last night. Early this morning, he had got up, washed, and dressed, then headed straight downstairs. She was convinced he wouldn't have had time to move the keys.

They had to be in the wardrobe.

Please lord they must be in here.

She climbed down from the chair, accidently knocking the door of the wardrobe as she set a foot on the floor. Turning she went to move the chair out of the way, but instead found herself staring at a half open panel on the inside of the door. Heart thumping, she pulled the panel back and there, hanging on a secret little hook, was the key ring.

What a clever, sneaky idea.

If she'd had something like this in her bedroom in London, she would have been able to steal a good deal more of her father's liquor.

Key ring in hand, and dressed against the cold of the night, Victoria considered her next move. The choice was to either go ahead with her plan or get ready for bed and talk to Robert in the morning. But her sister Coco would be bitterly disappointed if she discovered her sister had turned chicken hearted and hadn't gone through with it.

"Speaking of Coco." Victoria hurried over to her travel trunk, retrieved her pistol, and the pouch of gunshot.

It was now or never. Robert was expected home sometime around midnight, and she had no idea how much time she would need before then in order to satisfy her curiosity. She had to get to the bottom of whatever it was that he and the estate workers had been up to other night, then make good her escape.

The laneway was dark; the quarter moon hidden behind thin whispers of clouds gave only a hint of light. On her way back to the manor the other night, Victoria had counted the number of steps in between where she had hidden behind the tree all the way to the main front lawn of the house. Five hundred and twenty three steps, give or take a few miscounted ones.

At the end of the lawn, she began her trek, silently counting as she walked. If her family and friends in London could see her now, they would think she had gone mad. She was all alone, dressed in a gentleman's greatcoat, while sneaking down a country lane in search of heaven knew what sort of dark mystery. A bubble of excitement bounced around in her belly.

If there was a sensible and rational explanation for Robert's nightly endeavors, she was going to be more than a little disappointed.

Counting to step number five hundred, Victoria spied the tree she had hidden behind. She had to be close.

On the other side of the road, she found an empty spice barrel. Someone must have dropped it, and in the dark not seen it fall. She produced a small lantern from out of her coat pocket and set it on the ground. Lifting the glass cover, Victoria struck a flint and lit the candle. It gave off the barest of light, but enough for her to be able to see her way.

She moved forward, searching for a path through the undergrowth. Her lantern revealed a narrow trail which she carefully followed. A little further on into the trees, she came to a sudden stop. Ahead of her was a brick wall, and in the middle of it sat a heavy iron door.

"Open Sesame," she whispered, pretending she was one of Ali Baba's forty thieves. Unfortunately the door didn't respond to her magical charms and remained firmly locked. Retrieving the key ring, she tried several keys before the third one slipped easily in the lock and gave a satisfying click as it turned.

It took both hands pulling hard on the heavy door for her to open it. Victoria lingered on the threshold for a minute. If she went inside, there would be no going back. She'd have violated Robert's trust. Stolen his keys and broken into something he wanted kept secret.

But I am his wife. We are one person under the laws of god and country. Where he goes, I go.

It took a little more convincing but by the time she did step through the doorway, Victoria was ready to deal with any anger Robert might send her way when she told him where she had been.

Or perhaps she wouldn't tell him. Maybe keep this as her own little secret. A secret within a secret.

On the other side of the door was a room. Brick walls rose on either side, then continued overhead. Whoever had built this bunker had intended for it to be strong and secure.

It was filled with barrels and crates. All marked with the trident insignia of the East India Company. They looked the same as the ones she had seen in the kitchen cellar at Tolley House.

Victoria's brows furrowed. Robert was known as the Duke of Spice, but this was ridiculous. There had to be hundreds of them.

She picked one up. It was empty. She picked up another. Empty. Why was he hiding all these empty spice crates? And if they were all empty, then where was the spice?

Her gaze landed on a newish-looking barrel, one which was marked differently to the others. Cold dread slid down her spine as she picked it up and read the name on the side. This one was marked Tolley Estate.

Oh god. All these barrels of spice. Were they the ones which had been stolen from the East India Company? And if they were, that would make her husband…

"A spice smuggler."

Is that why he came here in the dead of night, to take the spices he'd stolen from the EIC and put them into his own barrels, and then on sell them at market?

No. No. No.

A strangled laugh escaped her lips. If this was indeed the truth, her mother would have a conniption. This wonderful, smart marriage to a duke was meant to secure the Duchess of Mowbray's position at the head of the haut ton . Her daughter was a duchess, with a spotless reputation, free from scandal.

What am I going to tell Mama?

She could just imagine the conversation with Lady Anne. "By the way Mama, did I happen to mention that I married the pirate Blackbeard? No? But there is nothing to worry about, he's only stealing huge amounts of spices from the East India."

Victoria dropped to her knees amongst the empty spice crates and put her head in her hands.

"This is a disaster. What on earth am I going to do?"

The click of a pistol being cocked split the empty silence of the night. "What you are going to do is put your hands up and get slowly to your feet."

She lifted her head and took in the masked stranger who walked into the bunker. He was dressed in a black suit, black coat, and a black bandana covered the lower half of his face. Even his hair was sable. The only thing about his person which was not that particular shade was the silver pistol he held in his hand.

A pistol which was aimed straight at Victoria's head.