she said, bringing the candles closer. ‘Now I feel much more at home.’
‘She was a beauty, Miss Eve, and no mistake,’ remarked Martha. ‘And you have the look of her, too.’
‘Do I?’ Eve gazed up at the painting. She saw an elegant woman in a gold sack-backed gown standing very erect with one hand resting on a large atlas. Eve recognised some similarities, the thick, luxuriant dark hair, straight little nose and smiling mouth, but there was a confidence about her mother that she had never felt in herself: those dark eyes seemed to look out upon the world with such self-assurance.
‘This was painted just before her marriage,’ she murmured. ‘Even then she yearned to travel the world, whereas I—I have always been content to live quietly at home. What a disappointment I would be to her.’ She stared at the portrait for a few moments longer, then gave her head a little shake, as if to throw off some unwelcome thought. ‘Well, such musings will do no good! Open those trunks and find our sheets, Martha, we must prepare for bed.’
There were no hangings on the tester bed, but the mattress was in place beneath its protective cover and it did not feel damp. Martha grumbled as she pulled the sheets from the trunk, but Eve was glad to be active, it helped her forget her unhappiness for a while.
That night Eve dreamed Nick was still alive. In those darkest hours just before dawn, when dreams are at their most vivid, she saw him clearly, heard his ringing laugh and knew in her very core that he was near her. The disappointment, when she opened her eyes and memory returned, made her feel physically sick. Eve looked around at the unfamiliar furnishings and knew a moment’s panic. This was not Makerham, neither was it the warm sunny place of her dream, the place where Nick was. She closed her eyes again, trying to bring the dream back, but it was impossible. All that was left was a vague, half-remembered happiness and she clung to it, holding on to it like a talisman, to be touched and rekindled when the demands of the day grew too great.
As Eve made her way downstairs she thought that Monkhurst looked much more welcoming with the morning sunshine flooding in. She found Mrs Brattee waiting to escort her to the small parlour where breakfast was laid out for her.
‘Aggie!’ Eve smiled fondly upon the housekeeper. ‘I am so sorry I missed you last night. Martha insisted that I take supper in my room, and to tell you the truth, by the time we had finished making the beds I was ready to fall asleep! You have not changed a bit, yet it must be all of ten years since I was last here!’
‘Aye, ma’am, that it is,’ replied Aggie, her harsh features softening a little. ‘And you a grown lady now. I’m that sorry for last night, Mrs Wylder. If only we’d known…’
‘It cannot be helped. We shall soon make everything comfortable.’
‘You are planning to stay here?’
Eve observed the look of horror upon the housekeeper’s face and knew a strong desire to laugh. ‘Why, yes,’ she said, taking her seat at the breakfast table. ‘Granby is very keen for me to go to Yorkshire, to his master’s house, but I would rather stay here, for now.’
‘But it’s not fit for you, mistress. It’s been empty for years.’
Eve sipped at her coffee. ‘I made a quick inspection before coming downstairs, the house is in much better order than I dared expect. One would never believe it has been ten years since it was occupied. In fact…’ Eve fixed her eyes upon the housekeeper ‘…one of the rooms—the one I used to know as the blue room—has every appearance of having been used recently.’
‘Well, mistress, how that can be I cannot say, I’m sure,’ replied Mrs Brattee, bustling about the parlour.
‘Can you not? Grandpapa always said Mama’s family had links with the free traders. I thought perhaps they might have been here.’
There was a loud crash as the dish the housekeeper had been holding dropped to the floor and shattered. Eve raised her brows.
‘Oh? Am I correct, then?’
‘No, mistress. I swear there was no smugglers sleeping in the house!’ declared Aggie, looking thoroughly alarmed.
‘Well, who?’ Eve said gently, ‘I do think I have a right to know who has been sleeping in my house.’ She waited, fixing her eyes upon the housekeeper, who shifted uncomfortably. ‘Tell me,’ she commanded.
‘I can’t, mistress. I promised I wouldn’t say.’
‘I think you must.’
The old woman eyed her doubtfully and Evelina tried again.
‘Come,’ she coaxed her gently. ‘Tell me who it was. Well?’
The housekeeper twisted her apron between her hands. ‘It was the master,’ she blurted out.
‘Grandpapa? But he has not been near the place for years.’
‘No, no, the young master,’ replied Mrs Brattee. ‘Captain Wylder.’
Evelina stared at her housekeeper. She began to tremble and clasped her hands together, digging the nails into her palms to fight down her panic.
‘When was this?’
‘About a week since.’
‘Then you saw him just before he, before—’
‘Aye, miss.’ Aggie nodded. ‘He—he came down to talk to Silas, said that now he was wed to you it would be quite proper for him to stay at Monkhurst. Showed Silas the marriage papers, he did. Everything looked to be in order so Silas let him in. Didn’t think there’d be any harm in it…’
Eve jumped to her feet. ‘No harm! Richard Granby knew of this, and he did not tell me! Where is Granby?’
‘He’s taken the old gig to the village, ma’am. Said he would fetch me some provisions, to tide us over until Silas can take me to Appledore in the cart.’
‘Then he will be gone for hours.’ Eve sank down again, her brow furrowed with thought. ‘Nick, stayed here?’ she mused. ‘But why?’
‘That I can’t say, mistress, but Silas was never one to refuse the captain—’
‘Wait.’ Evelina put her hand to her head, trying to make sense of what she was hearing. ‘Did—did my husband know Silas?’
‘He did, ma’am. They sailed together, years ago. Silas was always talking about Captain Wyldfire and he was that pleased when the captain came looking for him, but he wouldn’t let him into the house, ma’am, not until it was all legal, like.’
‘Do you mean that…that C-Captain Wylder came here before we were married?’
‘Oh, yes, ma’am.’ It seemed that now Mrs Brattee had made her confession she was happy to talk. ‘Back in the spring he fetched up here. Silas was so surprised—’
‘But what did he want?’
