Hope's Betrayal Read Online Free PDF Page B

surely
there is an extended family? Do they not help?”
    “Last winter my
Uncle and his two sons perished in a storm. His family had been living on
potatoes, seaweed and cockles for weeks. They put to sea to make a good catch
to sell for fresh vegetables, and clean linen for the babe his wife carried.
Now she is a widow, her babe raised without a father. Each family has troubles
of their own.”
    “My dear…how
awful.” A thought struck Lady Ryevale. “You express yourself well for a…”
    “For a
fisherman’s daughter?” Hope prompted.
    “Well, yes.”
    Hope couldn’t
help but smile. “There is much you don’t know about me.”
    “Oh, then do
tell…”
    But, if Hope was
tempted to reveal her secrets, the moment was lost as the door crashed open,
bouncing back on its hinges. Captain Huntley pounded up the stairs breathing
heavily, his eyes wild as an angry bull. His broad shoulders filled the
doorway, silhouetted against the bright corridor.
    “Mother! Are you
alright?”
    “Yes, of course
, why ever would I not be?”
    The captain
rolled his eyes. “Oh, no reason Mother. Other than you are alone with a
dangerous felon.”
    “I am in no
danger.” Lady Ryevale looked perplexed. “Your man is outside the door.”
    “Yes, and I’ll
deal with him later for letting you up.”
    “Oh no you
won’t, George, that officer was terribly concerned and it was against his
express wishes that I came up. You can’t blame him After all I am mistress of
this house.”
    A low growl
rumbled from the Captain’s throat. “Then why?” He grew in stature the angrier
he became.
    “I had a wish to
meet my new house guest.”
    “Mother!” 
    “Now dear,
manners!”
    The tension rose
a notch. Hope cowered beneath the covers as Captain Huntley glowered with cold,
hard eyes.
    “I will pretend
you didn’t say that, Mother. So, tell me. Did you find the prisoner good
company? My conversations with her have all been rather one-sided.”
    “Oh, yes dear,
we’ve had a delightful time.”
    Huntley sniffed
the air suspiciously.
    “What’s that
smell? Is it…hot oil?”
     Hope froze—had
he smelt the lamp? Had he guessed?
    Lady Ryevale
sniffed. "No. I can’t smell anything."
    “Was she out of
bed when you entered?” His hard eyes burned with suspicion, searing into Hope.
Huntley was no fool.
    “What do you
mean?”
    “I mean,” he
almost snarled, “was she, or wasn’t she out of bed?”
    “What a
ridiculous question. Of course she was in bed. Why, what did you expect, the
poor girl to be dancing a jig on a broken ankle?”
    Relief warmed
Hope, but it also puzzled her why this lady should have protected her.
    “Of course not.
I just wondered…perhaps it's time to transfer her to jail.”
    Lady Ryevale reached
for her son’s hand. “Nonsense dear. Sometimes, George, you work too hard. If I
thought you had any imagination, I’d say it had run away with you. Now, how
about a nice pot of tea and you can tell me about your day.”
    Lady Ryevale
rose and, much to Hope's amazement, smiled at her. But even more surprising was
Captain Huntley following after his mother, like a bear being led by a lamb.
     
    *****
     
    The next night
Hope lay staring into the darkness, willing herself to stay in bed. She daren’t
risk signalling again. Huntley's grim expression the previous evening had
spoken eloquently enough of his suspicions. But even so, to lie there doing
nothing was torture in itself, for with every passing minute the future grew
more perilous.
    At night the
house had a voice all of its own; from the creak of settling timbers to the
wind sighing down the chimney. On the roof above her head came the scrabble of
seagulls feet, and when she listened hard she heard the guard snoring, behind
the door at the foot of the attic stairs.
    As the hour grew
later the wind got up, knocking ivy against the window with a scratching
screech which set her teeth on edge. But when the scratch turned to a tap, her
eyes flew wide