Page 35 of Echo in the Wind

He scanned the deck for his quartermaster and found Émile amidships, his back to Jean, watching the crew preparing to set sail.

Jean acknowledged Lucien Ricard’s salute from the helm and strode to meet his second in command. “Tide’s turned, mon ami,” he said to Émile. “Have the crew clear the moorings and take her out.”

“Oui, Capitaine,” came Émile’s rough voice. “The men are anxious to exchange the stink of London for the flowers of Guernsey and the agréable harbor of St. Peter Port.”

Guernsey was a favorite place of Jean’s. Neither English nor French, the island had been an entrepôt for goods, particularly smuggled goods, for a very long time. While not as warm as Lorient, Guernsey was pleasantly mild, bringing to mind cliffs blanketed in flowers.

It might be a dependency of the English Crown, but Guernsey was independently governed with its own laws and its own way of looking at things. Being a free port, the British Parliament had no right to levy taxes there. Which made it home to many privateers. Not surprisingly, much of the island’s businesses were French. After all, the island was closer to France than to England.

In short, Guernsey was an ideal spot for his warehouse.

Émile relayed the commands and the crew cast off the lines.

M’sieur Ricard maneuvered the ship through the sluggish traffic on the Thames to ride the outgoing tide to the Channel.

Jean watched the quay fall away, wondering what he would do when next he encountered the fetching auburn-haired smuggler, who by then would have exchanged her silk gowns for a man’s breeches. He looked forward to that sight.

Cornelia had refused to say much about their destination to Joanna, telling her only to “dress simply for town.” So, to account for all contingencies, Joanna had chosen a modest skirt of indigo linen paired with a white shirt and cravat like a man’s. Over the shirt, she donned a close fitting jacket of the same blue fabric as her skirt. Dressed thusly, she could go most anywhere.

“Where are you off to?” Tillie asked from where she leaned against the doorpost of Joanna’s bedchamber.

“Cornelia gave no particulars. She said only that I would find the excursion most interesting.”

“You had best take a cloak. ’Tis a gray day, windy and cold.”

Observing Tillie’s chiffon gown of Celadonite green, Joanna asked, “And where might you be off to?”

Her sister’s eyes grew bright. “Aunt Hetty is taking me to my first garden party. The event is being given by the young Countess of Claremont, who Aunt Hetty tells me is a most gracious hostess.”

“Oh yes, she is. You will like her. Everyone likes Muriel. And, if the weather fails to improve, I imagine you will be inside. She and the earl have a large orangery which is quite suitable for such a party.”

“That is not all,” Tillie said. “Afterward, Aunt Hetty and I are paying a call on Claire Powell at the Adelphi Terraces. I am anxious to see Claire’s home. She has promised to introduce me to her neighbor, the widow of the famous actor, Mr. Garrick. And tonight, another ball—”

“A busy day, indeed, but then such is the Season.”

Joanna bid her sister a good day and reached for her dark blue woolen cloak before heading downstairs.

The Danvers’ carriage was waiting for her when she stepped outside.

The footman opened the door. Inside, Cornelia beamed at Joanna, her eyes alight with excitement. “Hurry, Jo, we must not be late!”

Drawing her cloak around her, Joanna climbed in and took a seat next to Cornelia. Beneath the baroness’ brown cloak, she had donned a simple peach-colored gown.

With the crack of a whip, the carriage lurched forward.

“Why, pray tell, are we in such a hurry?”

Cornelia looked smug. “Prepare yourself. No shopping today. No ride in the park. No calling on friends. We are off to see a trial at the Old Bailey!”

The vehicle bumped along over London’s streets as Joanna considered Cornelia’s words. This was something she had only heard described. She had always been curious to see a trial in the great Justice Hall and now she would. “Another adventure?”

“Most assuredly and, I imagine, one we will not soon forget.” Cornelia gave Joanna a sidelong glance, for they had shared many adventures.

“I have not forgotten any of our excursions,” said Joanna. “Without you, my trips to London would be dull, indeed.”

Cornelia laughed, owning the remark. “Well, I have no children and you have no husband so we have the time when you are here. How long are you in London?”

“Only tomorrow. The day after I must return to The Harrows.”