“By Satan,” Aled said.
“Perhaps.” Geraint looked steadily back at him. Silence stretched between them. “Well?”
“You used to talk me into trespassing for the sake of trespassing,” Aled said. “You talked me into playing ghosts that one night. You talked Marged and me into hiding you in that cupboard in the schoolroom one Sunday afternoon before Sunday school. You talked me into participating in every mad scheme you ever dreamed up, Ger. Why not this one too?” There was no amusement in his voice, only a sort of irritated frustration.
“Where? When?” Geraint jumped to his feet.
“Soon.” Aled got more slowly to his. “I’ll let you know, Ger. But I wouldn’t get my hopes too high if I were you. You will not find the other members of the committee quite as gullible as I am.”
“Aled.” Geraint held out his right hand, as serious as his friend. “You will not regret trusting me, man. I’ll not let you down.”
“I’ll fight you to the death if you do,” Aled said quite seriously. “Assuming I am free to fight, of course.”
They clasped right hands.
Matthew Harley paid an afternoon visit to Pantnewydd. He called at the office of Sir Hector Webb’s steward, but as usual he soon found himself walking outside in company with Sir Hector himself. The two men had a mutual respect for each other, and Harley had always realized that Sir Hector—and through him, Lady Stella—used him in order to gain news of Wyvern in England and in order to oversee the estate that would perhaps be his wife’s one day. It had always seemed to Harley that Sir Hector was more his employer than the Earl of Wyvern.
“He ordered me to have the salmon weir destroyed,” he explained to Sir Hector when they were well launched into the topic they had come together to discuss. “And he has had Tegid take away all the mantraps.”
“Fool!” Sir Hector said viciously. “Does he expect to be better respected for it? Does he not realize he will be merely laughed at and seen as a weak man?”
“With all due respect, sir,” Harley said, “I do not believe he fully understands the situation. He is trying to be popular. He has attended their chapel and a birthday party for an elderly lady on one of the farms.”
“Fool!” Sir Hector said again.
“I suppose it is understandable,” Harley said. “He was, after all, one of them as a child. It must be difficult—”
“My brother-in-law was a greater fool than his son!” Sir Hector’s voice had lost none of its viciousness. “But that is not the point now. He must be controlled, Harley. Once these Welsh farmers have spotted a weakness, they will exploit it. Before we know it, we will be having Rebecca Riots in this part of the country as well as in others. And it will all be Wyvern’s fault.”
“Perhaps,” Harley said, “he will take warning from all the accidents that have been happening at Tegfan lately. He must have realized by now that they are not really accidents at all.”
They had been strolling along beside the hedge surrounding the sheep pasture. But Sir Hector stopped and looked inquiringly at Tegfan’s steward. He laughed shortly when he had heard the account of the “accidents.”
“If we are fortunate, Harley,” he said, “his feelings will be hurt and he will crawl back to England and allow his estate to be run by those who know how to run it. If we are fortunate. In the meanwhile we need to keep a careful eye on the situation. The people are restless and word travels. There are gates being pulled down in Pembrokeshire and Cardiganshire and even in this county. Do you have any informants?”
“I have never needed any,” Harley said.
“Then it is time you did.” Sir Hector began to walk again back in the direction of the house. “They are not difficult to come by. Someone who is in your debt. Someone who has a grudge against his neighbors.” He looked assessingly at the other man. “Some woman. You are a fine enough young fellow, Harley. Get some woman panting over you. Women are loose-tongued as any man could wish when they fancy themselves in love.”
Harley thought of Ceris Williams, whom he was officially courting. He had found himself unexpectedly hot for her during the last couple of weeks. In addition to being pretty and sweet-natured, she seemed taken with him. She held his hand when they walked and listened attentively to what he said. She returned his kisses. She had even allowed him last night to fondle her breasts through the fabric of her dress, though she had pushed his hands away at first.
He did not doubt that he could use her as an informer. But the problem was—did he want to? He did not like the idea of mixing business with pleasure, and Ceris Williams was definitely pleasure. He even thought he might be falling a little in love with her. But then business—his position, the power he had enjoyed—had always been more important to him than any pleasure. And both were threatened at the moment, threatened by the presence of his employer at Tegfan and by the tense situation with the farmers.
Sir Hector Webb chuckled. “That silenced you,” he said. “Thinking of all the Welsh maidens you can tumble and milk for information, are you, Harley?”
“I will keep a close eye on the situation, sir,” he said. “I’ll keep you informed.”
“Good man.” Sir Hector slapped a hand on his shoulder. “These London beaux are all the same, you know. They know nothing about anything and think they know everything about everything. I’ll not forget who really runs Tegfan and has kept it such a prosperous estate. And Lady Webb will not forget, either.”
“Thank you, sir,” Harley said.
Marged had kept herself busy for almost two weeks. She had let the cattle out to pasture and had cleaned the barn with such thoroughness that her mother-in-law declared it was as clean as the kitchen. She had prepared the plow for the seeding and she had wandered slowly back and forth across the field, picking up the heavy stones that never failed to accumulate as if by magic every spring. It was heavy and backbreaking work that had used to exhaust even Eurwyn. He had never allowed her to help. Now she did it almost alone except for a little uninvited help from young Idris Parry, who spent a whole afternoon keeping up to her pace so that he could chat nonstop. So much like Geraint as he had used to be! She gave him some food to take up to his family and offered a few coins she could ill afford. He refused them.
She worked harder than she needed to. At first she was driven by fear. He had thought perhaps that she was a mere onlooker rather than a participant in the accidents that had been happening. But if he had seen her on that slope, the chances were good that he had seen her come from the direction of the house. Once he returned home and saw his bed, he would know. And perhaps he would guess that she was the leader he had asked her to identify.
She did not believe he would have her arrested. He would make himself look too foolish. But telling herself that with her mind and convincing her body that it was so were two quite different matters. She feared prison with an icy fear. She feared the hulks. She feared a foreign land and slave labor—perhaps chains, perhaps whips.
She lived with terror night and day and despised herself and held herself so stonily calm and aloof that even Gran noticed and asked her if she was feeling ill.