by Wendy Bayne
Mr Spencer nodded. “I see your point, sir; ladies, I beg your pardon. So, Mr Turner, would you care to enlighten me as to who this Randal Browne is and why he might have shot your brother-in-law?”
Mr Johnson sat back in his chair, crossed his legs and grinned mischievously. “Yes, Colin, I’d like to hear that explanation myself.”
Father slumped down in his chair. “This could take some time; may I interest anyone in some refreshment?”
Mother rose and pulled the bell and Mr Allan answered promptly, “Allan, could you bring us tea and I think a decanter of Mr Turner’s best whisky.”
Mr Johnson cleared his throat. “Ah, ma’am, will there be cakes? Old Arthur here took me up before I’d eaten and it’s getting rather late.”
“Allan.”
“I’ll see to it, ma’am, and I suppose there will two more for supper?”
Mother looked at Father, Mr Johnson was all smiles as Mother answered, “Thank you, Allan, yes, there will be two more.”
Father coughed to get Mr Allan’s attention. “Allan, would you please find some suitable clothes for Mr Johnson. And have the china room prepared, he will be staying with us for the foreseeable future.”
Mr Johnson stretched out and crossed his ankles. “Colin, you’re a most generous host but I have my own rooms and clothes or at least I did. I should be able to reclaim them again shortly.”
My father glared at him. “Miles, you’re a trial to anyone’s patience that has spent more than hour in your company. I’m not letting you out of my sight until this is settled. But if you don’t behave while under my roof, I will ask Mr Spencer to entertain you in the gaol.”
Once the tea arrived, Father started telling us about Randall Browne. He poured out whisky for the men as he talked and while Mr Johnson did his best to decimate the cake trays. “Randal Browne is a younger son of Lord Burley. He is well-educated and has been offered every advantage in life. But as a younger son he was expected to either join the army or the church. He chose the army as the lesser of two evils. Greed, however, has been the only thing that has ever motivated him.”
He took a gulp of his whisky and grimaced as he swallowed. “I was dismayed when I found out that he was on the same ship with me bound for the continent. He had been a year behind us at school and a thorn in my side the entire time. Unlike my father his had willingly purchased him a commission in the Dragoons, hoping I suppose that it would improve Browne who had always been a useless sod and an embarrassment to his family. He soon found that army life didn’t suit him. It was while we were in Brussels that Sir Thomas became interested in him for his ability to, shall we say to acquire things that others could not.”
Mr Johnson laughed. “Oh, Colin, call it what it was—smuggling, black market, racketeering! Browne could procure or steal goods of any kind for the right price all the while he neglected his army duties. From what I’ve heard the man was a coward except if there was a profit to be made, then he’d take just about any risk without any concern for his or anyone else’s personal safety.”
Father looked cross and glared at Mr Johnson. “Miles, are you telling this story, or am I?”
Mr Johnson took a strawberry tart and held it poised to eat but instead he responded, “Oh, excuse me, old man! You just seemed to want to dither about the details. It’s the details that make your friend Browne so interesting…and dangerous. Otherwise he just seems like any other wastrel of the upper classes; spending money, wasting time and doing nothing productive. When you come to think of it there isn’t a more perfect persona for him to hide behind in his line of work.”
Father interrupted him, “I can’t see him stooping to murder!”
Mr Johnson became very serious. “Can’t you, Colin? I can.”
Mr Spencer then interjected. “Mr Turner, can we get back to your story? The answer may be as Wicker has said in the details.”
Father rubbed the side of his face and sighed. “Yes, the details, you’re right of course. Randall Browne is just as Miles has described him. My patron and superior Sir Thomas Wiseman was the person in charge of gathering intelligence from the disenfranchised French nobility, the upper-class Belgians and the visiting nobility of Spain. To do that he needed to entertain in a fashion that Brussels could no longer support. Yet Browne seemed to be able to get any luxury item you could think of, even things that had been in short supply for years and he seemed to know everyone that Sir Thomas wished to entertain. He also had a talent for charming information out of people and at the time, Sir Thomas was not particularly concerned with how he did it, after all it was war.”
That is until one of the Spanish diplomats wanted Browne arrested for interfering with his fourteen-year-old niece. Sir Thomas has a daughter of his own and was not unsympathetic to the man’s complaint. We had gotten about as much as we could get out of the people in Brussels and the war by this time had moved deeper into France and Spain, so he decided that he would turn Browne over the Spaniards. But somehow Browne got wind of it and took flight with the girl in question; her name is Louisa."
I gasped, and Mother looked pale. “Do you mean our Louisa, Papa?”
He grimaced and continued. “Yes, Lissa, Lady Alford’s companion.” Aunt Mary was glowering at him but said nothing. He took a sip of whisky and continued, “They’d bolted in the middle of the night and Sir Thomas sent Samuel and I after him but only because the Spaniards were ready to create a diplomatic incident which would have been very embarrassing to the British Crown. Can you imagine the scandal if it became public knowledge that a son of a peer of the realm was guilty of such a crime and while in the service of the British government? Samuel and I were told to do anything we needed to get Louisa back and to silence Randall Browne.”
He cleared his throat, tapped his hands on his thighs then grimaced. “Sir Thomas’s meaning was very clear, he wanted Browne dead. When we finally found them, we were stupid enough to walk right into a trap. It turned out that Browne had been working for the French all along. Everything that he had learned for us and from us, he had in turn sold to the French.”
He sighed, took another gulp of his whisky then refilled his glass as well as the other gentlemen’s. My tea had grown cold as had my mother’s. Father had our undivided attention. Aunt Mary had continued to sip her tea watching us as if she had heard this story before.
Father resumed his narrative, “We found them waiting in a deserted barn not far outside of Brussels just as if he had expected us. Louisa was scared but unhurt. When questioned later, she told us that he had never actually touched her as her uncle had asserted. However, her mother had found a note from Browne in her room and jumped to the wrong conclusion. It appeared that the Spanish envoy had suspected his niece was being used as a spy in his household and wanted a reason to dispose of her. So, to avoid the embarrassment of admitting the truth to his government he chose to press the accusation of interference. Either way he made it clear that he didn’t want Louisa returned; she was to be sent to a convent and they wanted Browne eliminated. He found out what they had planned but he didn’t trust Louisa to remain silent, so he took her with him to use as bargaining chip if necessary and if not, he’d give her to the French.”
He paused to collect his thoughts. “I didn’t believe that Browne would kill her just to save his own skin. However, Samuel did, he was sceptical from the beginning of Browne’s motives in taking her. When we entered the barn, Browne had a gun trained on Louisa’s back. I had the better angle to shoot him, but I hesitated and missed my opportunity. He kept us talking so neither of us heard the French arrive until it was too late. He walked out of the barn assuring us that he would not betray our presence if we promised to take care of Louisa. I don’t know if he told the French we were in there or if they didn’t trust him completely. Maybe they’d seen or heard our horses though we had left them in a gully a fair distance away. Whatever it was, they set fire to the barn and left sentries at the door. We had to climb up into the loft and out a very
small window. Climbing down was almost impossible for Louisa so we had to lower her with a rope from the loft. It was a narrow escape for us. She was unsure about leaving with us and fought us. I thought at one point I might have had to knock her out and carry her to keep her from running after Browne. It was a hard ride back to Brussels for all of us; we couldn’t take to the roads with the French in the area and Louisa had no horse since she and Browne had travelled in a cart. So, I was riding double with her not at all cooperative.”
Father stood up and walked around the room and refilled his glass again before taking his seat. Mr Johnson stretched and got up to help himself to more cakes. Aunt Mary had been watching Mr Spencer’s reaction to all of this then she turned to my father. “Colin, you said you were told to eliminate Browne, but you missed on that opportunity. Did you have more than one?”
My father chuckled but without mirth. “Yes, a few weeks later I had him in my sights again. Sir Thomas had not been happy about the barn incident and in part that was the reason he decided to send us home. He couldn’t use us as spies on the continent any longer since Browne knew us and was working for the French. He agreed that we could take Louisa with us back to England and find her a place as a companion instead of sending her to the convent. Her uncle was indifferent to what happened to her, he just wanted her gone. Apparently, her parents didn’t even want her back, they were sure she had lost her virtue and therefore her value. Samuel and I weren’t exactly in disgrace but neither of us were happy about being sent away when there was still work to be done.” He put his glass down and stretched out his legs, still looking uncomfortable about what had transpired all those years ago.
“Instead of the continent we were to be assigned to watch the south coast of England for smugglers with an eye out for spies coming ashore as well as contraband. We were on the docks in Calais waiting to embark for the trip home when I saw Browne standing on the same pier a short distance away. Louisa didn’t see him, and I was sure that he’d not seen us. It would have been simple to slip through the crowd then slide a knife between his ribs. But by the time I’d made up my mind to go after him he had disappeared. I assumed that he’d spotted us after all… I’ve not seen him since. So, you see I have no idea what he could have against me or Samuel that would enrage him enough to attempt murder.” He flexed his hands as the tension slowly left his body and he relaxed once more. “The war has been over for some years now and he’s been able to come and go with his French friends. Besides we have no actual proof of his treason so if he chose to stay, he would walk free. If anything, it should be Samuel and I shooting at him, not the other way around.”
Mr Spencer spoke up, “I might be able to help you with the motive, Mr Turner. Over the last year there has been a considerable trade in French contraband goods here in London. We believe that there is an organized group of smugglers with significant connections in both politics and business on both sides of the channel. Mr Browne seems to have continued in his chosen trade of procuring things, but we have no concrete proof though he’s been linked to some influential parties involved both in London and Paris. There’s a great deal of money at stake and the quality of the goods is first rate. I’ve never seen the like of them before. But we never could track the buggers from this end. I assume that you haven’t had much luck yourself on the coast, perhaps you’re getting too close and making people uncomfortable.”
Father sat back and contemplated what Mr Spencer had said. “You may have a point, Arthur, Samuel saw Browne before he came south with my family. They had words and Samuel he sent him packing but Browne told him that if we got in his way he’d make us pay.”
Mr Spencer rubbed his chin. “Browne was in Northumberland? That’s curious, I wonder why. The thing is, Turner, both of our resources are spread too thin. The only fellows we’re catching are the little ones that make mistakes during the distribution of the goods. However, they don’t usually talk and those that do don’t know anything worthwhile. The one thing they all have in common is that they’re so scared of these people that they’d rather face transportation than answer our questions. Whoever is behind this operation doesn’t appear to make mistakes and has all of us working at cross purposes. There’s no cooperation between the various jurisdictions over this matter. If we worked together, we could possibly make life very uncomfortable for them.” He paused and clasped his hands tightly together then looked at my aunt before continuing, “But you could be putting yourself and your family at risk, particularly if this shooting was about your work.”
Father groaned. “Good God, you make it sound like a war, Arthur.”
Mr Johnson put down his glass and quietly said, “It is war, Colin. The worst kind of war; it’s about greed and how far a man will go to satisfy that greed.”
Chapter 12
Confrontation
Several days went by and during that time the Clarkes came to dinner and the horse stud was discussed at great length. Baron and Jewel were examined, and it was determined that they would make a perfect pair to start. Ramsey was smug for weeks after because he’d been right. Despite his sense of superiority, we continued our daily conversations over the garden wall until he informed me that he was leaving for Oxford the very next day. He seemed less than thrilled with the prospect and I was conflicted. It would be rather lonely in our corner of the garden after he left, I knew with him gone it would stop being one of my favourite places.
During the months that followed, I occasionally went to the theatre and dinner parties with my family. I also frequently went to the British Museum, the Tower and Hyde Park with Uncle Samuel and Emilie. Apparently, it was meant to broaden my education. But I learned more about the elements of courting than I did about art or antiquities…though they did try occasionally to enlighten me. I was also forced to meet some of my contemporaries; they seemed to fall into two categories, mean and milksop and all of them were insipid and boring. I found that no one of my own gender shared my interests, nor were they as well-educated as I was. Perhaps asking my father to challenge my mind had been a mistake since I was having trouble connecting with people of my age. Those that I could have carried on a conversation with if they had been so inclined were older than me and usually male. Behind my back, they called me an abomination which did not bode well for my future in the marriage mart. I tried not to let it bother me; after all, I had spent much of my life on my own without any friends from my own class. Ramsey was the closest that I had ever been to having a friend within the Beau Monde, so I refused to dwell on it and kept to my usual amusements supplemented by those I had found in London under the strict supervision of my family.
Thankfully Aunt Mary had been as good as her word and between her intervention and the Clarkes spreading our story, London society had accepted our family with minimal fuss.
Life at home was interesting, Uncle Samuel was temperamental for some time to say the least, resulting in Emilie and Dalton removing all the breakables from the rooms he frequented. And as expected, he was very ill for several weeks but he gradually started to look less hollow and grey. His wit returned, becoming more cutting as he got better. Father and my uncle went out often with Mr Johnson who was still our guest. And if I had to choose only one word to describe Mr Miles, ‘Wicker’ Johnson it would be intriguing.
My lessons had continued in earnest with Murphy teaching me the silent code and Gaelic. Mr Allan taught me History and etiquette. Lettie taught how to pick pockets and sought to improve my drawing. Michael was my arms instructor while Jacob surprisingly was assigned the responsibility of teaching me to improve my play on the pianoforte and horsemanship. Aunt Mary had a dance instructor come to the house twice a week and she aided me in improving my gentlewoman skills, everything from needlepoint to the still room. Mother taught me household management and with Emilie’s assistance, they taught me several languages. Father had the harder task, he taught me dead languages as well as politics, both of which I barely suffered through. He enticed me to pay attentio
n at least to politics by saying that to work for him I had to understand our system of government. Uncle Samuel was teaching me geography and all about smuggling. Dr Jefferson volunteered to teach me basic physic and wound care. The real surprise though was Mr Johnson, he decided that to combat his boredom as our guest he would teach me the art of disguise and lock picking.
We practiced our disguise in front of that family during evening theatricals since my father would not sanction him taking me out and about in London. With him I shared my love for literature, so he tried to direct me as to the books that I should and shouldn’t read. Sometimes we agreed but just as often we did not which ended up in several heated debates and some name calling. Father was sceptical that I could keep up with everything but hoped that this would keep me busy and out of trouble. To be honest there were days that my head was so full, it ached, or I was so tired that I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
My parents often went out in the evening to Balls and suppers with Samuel and Emilie who he was openly courting now. Many of these I could not attend since I was not formally out yet. But I loved to see them in all their splendid finery. I was in awe of Mother and Emilie sweeping down the stairs looking so beautiful that it took my breath away. While my father and uncle looked every part of handsome rich men of the ton with one exception, they could not feign the socially expected indifference of a husband for his wife…for they adored these women. Sometimes Mr Johnson would go with them but often as not he went out on his own, coming and going at odd hours.
On the rare occasions that Aunt Mary didn’t have an engagement with Mr Spencer or old friends she would have me read to her or I would sketch her as she quietly sat with her needle work. When she was out for the evening Meg and I would day dream together and gossip. I’d tell her about the places that I had been, the clothes that people wore and the houses we visited. She was so intrigued that I insisted from then on that she accompany us on many of our daytime excursions around London.