The small beady eyes he turned on Peter were defiant and filled with malice, in spite of his downfall.
Peter stood and watched the door of the prison cart slam shut seconds before the sound of a whip pierced the air, causing the horses to set off on their journey to deliver the prisoners to Bodmin.
Many of the villagers within Padstow had left their houses to watch the smugglers who had blighted their lives for so long being taken away.
An air of solemnity fell over the sea port as they watched the steady procession of prisoners’ carts dragging men away, one after another after another. All morning, men had been rounded up, pushed into the carts and taken away.
There were some cries of distress from wives who had watched their husbands being dragged from their homes, but most people were simply glad that they had been caught and were going to face punishment.
In reality, a lot of the local fishermen who had been dragged into Scraggan’s activities were going to be reprimanded and allowed to return home, on the understanding that they resume their lives as fishermen. If they were caught committing any crimes in the future, all their crimes, including smuggling, would be considered when they were brought to trial. For the majority of men, a second chance was all they needed to resume their lives of peace and tranquillity.
The men the government were after were directly linked to Scraggan. The information gathered by the Star Elite over the past few months was enough to ensure convictions resulting in execution for everyone. Including Scraggan.
While Peter and Edward had delivered Scraggan to a startled Hugo, Jemima had remained at the harbour with Eliza and Harriett, for a long time, watching as the Redcoats went from door to door in groups of six. Some locals held their doors open, clearly waiting for their turn to have their house searched; recognising the inevitability of it and the futility of protesting at being invaded. Some preferred to wait for the hammering on the door.
Deep within the houses came cries of distress from the wives of the smugglers as they watched their husbands being dragged off to gaol. Children screamed in fear; babies cried in their mothers arms.
Had she not hated him already, Jemima would have loathed Scraggan for all the pain he had caused so many innocent people. In a brief moment of uncharacteristic spite, she hoped with all her heart that Scraggan would endure a long and very painful death at the end of the hangman’s noose.
Feeling sick at the sights and sounds battering her already dazed senses, Jemima slowly turned, feeling more weary than she had ever felt before. Whether it was the sight of the prison cart, or everything that had happened to her over the past few days, she wasn’t sure; but she was struggling to believe that it was over. She could finally have a life without Scraggan.
Immediately, her inner voice asked her if she could really face life without Peter.
She knew she couldn’t, but she didn’t know what to do next. She had felt such immense pain upon hearing his words that she wasn’t sure how to handle her devastation.
Was she numb? She wasn’t sure. Were her feelings due to the fact that he had just confirmed everything she had already considered to be possible? Probably; but where did that leave her?
The cries of the babies and the hum of the crowds grated on her already shattered senses.
“Let’s go to my house and have a cup of tea,” Harriett murmured, grabbing Jemima’s elbow with a gentle hand and guiding her toward the hill road leading to her small cottage. “I understand from the captain that they have already finished there, and we are free to return to it.”
Jemima meekly followed, aware that Eliza had joined them. As she turned off the path that led around the harbour, she caught sight of Peter standing on the corner of a side street, deep in conversation with Hugo. He stopped talking and watched her pass, but made no move to approach her.
Jemima wasn’t sure what she would have done if he had come close. She didn’t know if she wanted to hit him, kiss him, or both. But right now, she couldn’t speak to him. She didn’t know what to say.
Instead, she ducked her head and kept her eyes down while she climbed the hill to Harriett’s house.
Once inside the cottage, she lit the fire, while Harriett got the tea things ready. Eliza fetched a warm blanket, which was wrapped snugly around an unprotesting Jemima, who sat in front of the roaring fire, gazing blankly at the flames.
“Now that Scraggan is on his way to Bodmin, you can stay here for as long as you need to,” Harriett offered generously. She felt the fresh sea air, and tinctures she would make up for Jemima would help her recover from her ordeals.
Eliza was torn. She wanted to return to Leicestershire with Edward. Not only to see how Isobel was getting on, and learn for herself whether the babe had been born yet, but she didn’t want Edward to leave her. On the other hand, though, she didn’t want to leave Jemima behind in Padstow, especially while she was behaving so strangely.
“Thank you,” Jemima replied quietly, thinking of the dank mustiness of her own home further down the road. “If we could stay tonight, that would be wonderful. It is very kind of you, Harriett.”
“Phah! Kind?” Harriett shook her head, plonking herself down on the hard wooden chair opposite Jemima and giving her an almost stern look. “I’m just as glad as you are to see the back of Scraggan and his men. At least now I don’t have to spend hours scrawling notes about the smuggling, not knowing if anyone is going to bother to read them.”
“We have all taken risks,” Eliza murmured, thinking of her own mad flight to Padstow with Edward, Dominic, Sebastian and Peter, that was so abruptly diverted. “I have done things over the past few weeks I never considered possible, especially for a lady.” She shook her head ruefully, thinking over what had happened to her in such a short length of time. It was remarkable she still had all of her faculties.
“Such as?” Harriett’s brows rose in challenge, and she rose to pour the tea when the pot began to boil.
“Oh, I’ve ridden bareback, dressed as a man -” she ignored Harriett’s gasp and stared into the fire. “Been chased by smugglers, stood in the middle of
a swordfight, been chased through fields in the middle of the night -” her voice was monotone and as unaffected as if she was reading from a menu, “oh, and worked in a whorehouse.”
Eliza jumped when Harriett dropped the teapot with a thud on the table, and turned to stare at her. She quickly looked at Jemima, who was staring at her with a look of abject horror on her face, and the penny dropped.
“Oh! Not as a whore! Good God, no,” and she couldn’t smother the smile that threatened. “Although if it weren’t for Edward appearing in my life, I would have been the star attraction.”