Free Smugglers' Summer by Carola Dunn

small window which faced east, across the river and eventually to London, some two hundred miles beyond.
    After bowing to the viscountess, Sir Tristram went to join her.
    Octavia curtseyed to her aunt and kissed her cheek.
    “Dear child,” murmured her ladyship. “How good of you to join us in our exile. I hope you are quite recovered from the journey?”
    “Yes, aunt, perfectly. I have some money left from what Lord Langston gave me. I will fetch it down to you.”
    “No, no, keep it, my dear. Langston undoubtedly intended that you should travel post, but since you came on the common stage you shall certainly keep your savings. When I think of your discomfort, I declare I grow quite agitated. How came you to do such an imprudent thing?”
    “Why, to tell the truth, ma’am, it never crossed my mind to hire a chaise. How Mama would have stared at such an unnecessary expenditure."
    “Ah, sister, sister!” The thought of Mrs Gray seemed to drain Lady Langston’s last drop of energy. She closed her eyes and remained inert until Octavia could only suppose she was dismissed.
    Twenty guineas! Even if she set aside a tithe for Mama’s Africans, she had never in her life owned so much at one time. Her thoughts turned at once to clothes. She had been conscious all morning that the glory of her new dress was spoiled by her old, shabby shoes, and if she ever went beyond the gardens she would need gloves, a bonnet, even a parasol. If only Plymouth were not so inaccessible.
    Pondering the problem of reaching the shops, she wandered over to an ornate cabinet and stared at it blankly. The only person she knew who went regularly from Cotehele to Plymouth was Captain Pilway. However obliging, he could hardly be trusted to choose a bonnet for a young lady.
    “An extraordinary piece of furniture, is it not?” asked an amused voice behind her.
    She glanced back at Sir Tristram, then focused on the cabinet. To her dismay, it was lavishly decorated with naked figures.
    “I must write some letters,” she stammered, knowing her cheeks were crimson. “I wondered if there might be paper and pen within.”
    “I expect so, if we can but find them. It is full of secret drawers and boxes, and one can never be sure what one will come across.” He let down the front to form a writing surface. “Have you investigated this desk, Miss Langston?”
    Julia had moved to a chair and picked up a magazine. She looked up, then languidly joined them.
    “No. Why should I investigate a desk?”
    “Sir Tristram says it is full of secret compartments. Perhaps we may find a map showing the way to buried treasure.”
    In spite of herself, Julia was interested. She opened a little door, revealing an inkstand and several quills. Octavia took possession of them.
    Sir Tristram pulled open a drawer and presented her with several sheets of paper. Then he slid it all the way out. Behind it was a tiny cubbyhole containing several agate marbles.
    “That is one of the simplest,” he said. “We used to hide our treasures in it. Now watch this.”
    Julia was fascinated. Nobly, Octavia retreated with her writing materials to a small table, leaving Sir Tristram to impress his inamorata without distraction. It was difficult to ignore the oohs and ahs, but she managed to concentrate sufficiently to inform her parents that she was arrived safely and would write again soon with a description of her surroundings.
    Lieutenant Cardin was next. He had probably forgotten her existence by now but she had promised to write. A quick note thanked him for his assistance and assured him that her river journey had been without mishap.
    She folded the paper and was about to address it to the Customs House when it dawned on her that the only way for letters to reach the post was by way of the Tamar. According to no less an authority than Captain Day, most if not all of the sailors on the river were engaged in smuggling, or free trading as they preferred to call it. It seemed