Page 117 of Debtor’s Daughter

“You were right, you know, all those years ago.” Lawrence watched him as he spoke, confused by the admission, but he saw regret in his brother’s eyes. “I should have done more. I should have helped more, instead of blaming the smugglers for breaking the law, instead of helping the militia. I should have looked to the cause, the why of it. You saw that,” Alex said, his face grave, and then he smiled, and Lawrence recognised the brother he had idolised in his youth. “You always let your heart rule you even then, not like me. I was always so bloody devoted to the rules, to obeying tradition, upholding the laws, even when they made no sense at all, even when they were damned unfair.”

Lawrence adjusted his position on the pallet, leaning forward so he could see his brother more clearly in the dim light cast by the lamp. The words were so unlike the man he had known. Alex seemed aware of his thoughts and gave a grim smile.

“I’ve changed, Lawrence. For good and for bad.” He laughed, a dark sound that seemed to roll around in the gloomy cavern of the hull. “Mostly for the worse, in truth, but perhaps there are some things you will approve of?”

Curiosity now had Lawrence galvanised, and he stared at his brother with a strange feeling he knew what he’d done, and he didn’t know whether to be proud or howl with sorrow at what he’d done to that honourable man.

“Such as?” he demanded.

“I decided the smugglers were ill-equipped and inadequately led. There were others caught and sent to London to be tried and hanged in the months after ...” He paused and Lawrence felt a sharp pang of guilt at the pain in Alex’s eyes as he relived that time. “After you left. You know Jo, one of the men who worked in the gardens? He used to turn a blind eye when we were boys and filched the strawberries, do you remember?” Lawrence felt a lump lodge in his throat and nodded, he remembered. “And young Toby, from the cottages near the church, he was perhaps three years older than you? He’d not been married a year, left his wife with a babe on the way and nothing to support her.”

They sat in silence once more as Lawrence brought to mind the faces of those men, and others who had died on the beach that night.

“I couldn’t bear it,” Alex snarled, his voice full of fury. “They took them to London to try them, and those judges who dished out the sentence, they walked away and dined on capon and roast beef, stuffing their fat faces while those men’s families starved and were now utterly hopeless without the menfolk to provide for them. And those amiable creatures, those judges, were the honourable men of the law.” The words were spat out with such venom that Lawrence caught his breath. “It made me sick, Lawrence. As far as I knew you’d died on that beach helping those men to feed their families, and I vowed to carry on where you’d left off.”

Lawrence blinked and looked on his brother with new eyes.

“My God, Alex, you’re a smuggler.” He was too stunned to say anything more for a moment and then anger surfaced. “Are you out of your mind?” he demanded, as outrage and pride struggled to reassemble this new vision of the man he’d grown up with. “You’re funding a smuggling ring, on your own doorstep? You’ll be caught, it’s ... it’s insane!”

Alex folded his arms, looking quite entertained by his younger brother’s outburst.

“There speaks The Rogue,” he said with dry amusement.

“That was entirely different!” Lawrence countered, narrowing his eyes and hauling on the chain he was bound with to lever himself to his feet. “I had nothing to lose, and I was never in the same place for more than a day at a time. You have your home - our home! The family name, people who depend on you!”

Alex began to laugh, the deep rumble melding into the sounds of a working ship as Lawrence glared at him.

“And here I was thinking you might be proud of me.” His face grew grave once more. “Lawrence, things are far worse than they were even then. Since the war ended the farmers can no longer afford to compete with the low price of imported grain. They are laying men off all around. Many are simply giving up and heading to America to try a new life there. With the mines doing badly too, people are clawing for survival and if I cannot save them by legal means, and believe me I’ve tried, then I’ll do it as they do.”

Lawrence sighed and shook his head in defeat. “I am proud of you, dammit. Of course I am. I-I just don’t want to lose you all over again.” He held out his hands as far as the chains would allow, hoping Alex would understand. “It is a comfort to know you will still be there, that the great house still stands at Tregothnan as it always has, that old Pawly is still putting the fear of God into anyone who dares come to the door, that Mrs Buscombe still makes the best pasties in all of Cornwall, and that the bal maidens are still singing on the dressing floor. Then all is as it ought to be and the world will go on as it should, no matter what mess I have made of my own life.”

To his surprise Alex got to his feet with utter rage in his eyes.

“And it would be such a comfort to know you are back among us,” he shouted. “That I might see you and talk with you as we once did would be a sight better than knowing you are lost somewhere out in the world where I might never know if you died for real, for there would be no one to tell me of it!”

The two men stared at each other, and Lawrence felt guilt dragging at his heart. If he did as Alex and Henri wanted, he would be putting them in harm’s way and if anything happened, he’d never forgive himself, and if he went he would hurt them and break his own heart. He watched as Alex turned and strode away from him without another word. There seemed to be no way forward that would do anybody any good.