by Wendy Bayne
Chapter 18
Taking a Stand
I woke up lying on one of the kitchen’s settees under the painful ministrations of Dr Jefferson as he applied a splint to my broken arm. He smiled at me, “Well, Miss Turner, that was a spectacular fall, I must say. You’ve broken your arm, bruised your shoulder and have a few scrapes and scratches but you’ll be fine.”
“Thank you, doctor, but I believe it was the horse, not me, that broke my arm.” I looked about the room. Angel was at the table chewing her fingernails with an older version of herself sitting beside her. A tall young man had his hand on the older woman’s shoulder was whispering in her ear. She just patted his hand and nodded. Mr Dawson was seated at the end of the table nearest them and in his younger days he probably looked very much like the tall young man. Now he just looked grey and distraught. I didn’t see Louisa or Mr Johnson and I wondered what had happened to Browne.
Dr Jefferson seemed to have anticipated my questions without my asking. “Browne got away, Mr Johnson has gone after him.” I tried to sit up, but he pushed me back down. “You aren’t going anywhere until I’m done, so lay back.”
“And Louisa?” he stepped aside so I could see that she was sitting at the far end of the table with two pistols in front of her watching the Dawsons, her brow was furrowed and she was chewing on her lower lip. I was concerned that the Dawson family would be arrested, despite having aided in my captivity they had also facilitated my rescue. “Doctor, about Angel and her family, they’ve been most kind to me and they’ve only tried to help.” Dr Jefferson looked rather dubiously at Mr Dawson and then arched an eyebrow at me, I understood his look of disbelief. “Well, Mr Dawson has been under a great deal of stress and he feared for his family’s safety. He didn’t hurt me and saw to it that I was fed and kept warm and safe.” Mr Dawson’s head popped up, looking at me in astonishment. I managed a weak smile in his direction.
The doctor looked back at the family. “If you say so, Miss Turner, but that man by his own admission was involved in your kidnapping. However, he did help his son Robert deliver a message to Louisa requesting a doctor’s service as well as your message to your mother and Mr Johnson.”
Louisa was glaring at Dawson when she said, “Mr Dawson should be under considerably more stress if he felt that he could play on both sides.” What an odd thing to say but the doctor didn’t seem to pay it any mind.
Mr Dawson hunkered down in his chair looking morose once again. The young man who was Angel’s brother Robert licked his lips and spoke to Dr Jefferson “Weren’t his fault, sir. He’s been at his wits end since he lost his boat and he’s tried to make a go of it anyway that he could to keep Mum, me and my sister fed and sheltered.” His eyes roved around the kitchen. “This be all we’ve got anymore, it ain’t much but even this isn’t ours; we’ve been squatting.”
The doctor looked around the worn but immaculate room and then asked, “Then who owns this property?”
Robert looked puzzled shrugging his shoulders. “No one, sir. The old lady that use to live here died with no relations. No one else came to claim the place. My granddad and Da used to work here when it was a fine house but that’s been—”
Mr Dawson raised his head and finished Robert’s sentence, “Almost twenty years, sir, and the place has been abandoned ever since. It’s true that I used ter work here when I was a young man but my Da died then the old lady. I didn’t have nothing else I could do so I bought a fishing boat but I’m not much of fisherman and I couldn’t pay our rent, so we were put out with nowhere to go. All I’m good for is working the land, that why I brought my family here. We cleaned up what we could and been living here the last two years. Then that man Richards came, he tried to turn us out, said that he was the owner, but I knew he were lying. I’d never seen him here before and he didn’t know nothing about the old lady at all. But he gave me enough blunt to keep the place stocked up if I helped him move cargo from some ships what standoff Poole. I knowed they were smugglers but weren’t my business so long as I could keep me family fed and out of the work house or goal.”
He looked pointedly at Robert who had turned beet red. “I’ve been a considerable worry to me Da. I just wanted to help me family, but the vicar caught me stealing from farmer McGovern over the other side of Poole. He didn’t turn me in and instead he gave me work in the church and taught me my numbers and to read and write. He’s a fine old gentleman and I’ve learned a lot from him but my Da wants me to better myself.” He smiled at his father who was staring at his clenched fists on the table. “But he didn’t want no one hurt, he knew that Browne was a bad one that’s why he let me deliver the young lady’s message.” You could see the pride Mr Dawson had in his son when he lifted his head and smiled at him.
Dr Jefferson crossed his arms looking at me. “Since Miss Turner has vouched for the lot of you then I suppose we can trust you. In my experience, she’s a keen judge of character.” Louisa glared at him then the Dawsons in turn without the doctor apparently taking note.
Then he turned to Angel’s mother. “Mrs Dawson, do you think you could provide us with a bit of bread and cheese? I’m famished.” She blushed and nodded.
I moved to sit up again and this time the doctor helped me. Mrs Dawson and Angel scurried into the pantry while Robert pulled down the mismatched bits of china and pewter placing them on the table. Louisa moved the pistols out of the way and slipped one into her pocket.
Angel came out with a huge crock and poured the contents into a pot on the hearth then set the kettle to boil as well. In no time, we sat before a feast of cold meats, thick vegetable barley soup, bread, cheese, cake and large cups of sweetened tea. Mr Dawson looked longingly at his bottle by the settee but didn’t make a move towards it. Instead he gulped his tea and asked for another cup. Talk was cordial as we learned a great deal about the area and the smugglers that frequented Poole. Most of them were just ordinary folk trying to make ends meet by risking their fishing boats in a trip across the channel or by meeting larger vessels standing out at sea to offload their cargo. They’d bring in the goods sometimes for a small percentage of the take or a few guineas. Mr Dawson had been one of these local men until he lost his boat. He’d been willing to venture out further than most through sheer ignorance and he paid for that ignorance one day when he was caught in a violent storm that came up without warning, wrecking his boat and almost drowning him. He was picked up by some friends returning from a run to Richards’ ship.
Suddenly there was the sound of voices raised in the house. The doctor grabbed a pistol pointing it towards the door. Louisa put her hand in her pocket where she had hidden the pistol but didn’t remove it. Just then my father, uncle and Mr Johnson walked in. The Dawsons all stood as if on cue, moving away from the table. Mr Johnson stepped forward motioning for them to remain seated.
Father was in the process of taking his hat off and looking around. “Do you mind if we join you? My companions and I are starved.”
Mrs Dawson smiled and laughingly said with hands on her hips, “When aren’t men hungry?” She and Angel returned to the pantry and started all over again.
My father pulled me into a tight hug, being careful not to bump my arm. I finally pulled back from him looking up into his face. I could see how worried he was. “I’m fine, Papa.” Looking down at me he quirked an eyebrow. “I mean, I will be fine, Dr Jefferson says so.” Father turned to shake Dr Jefferson’s hand, nodding his thanks; he was still too emotional for words.
Uncle Samuel slid in between us, smiling at me, but my father then jokingly pushed him out of the way as I giggled. “Well, brat, despite everything that Johnson tells me that you’ve been through you’re looking remarkable well. That is except for the arm and the scratches. Whatever happened to your neck, it looks like…”
I gulped, and tears welled up in my eyes. Dr Jefferson intervened so I wouldn’t have to answer, “The bruises are from Browne, he threatened to snap her neck to make a point.” All three men turned furiou
s looks on me. My father slammed his fist against the doorjamb, cursing, then leaning down he kissed me on the forehead. Uncle Samuel was grinding his teeth, Mr Johnson seemed composed except that his hands were so tightly fisted that his knuckles were white.
Uncle Samuel finally sat down, pulling me to sit beside him while my father sat down on the other side of me. Mr Johnson took a seat across from me but didn’t say a word. I looked at him several times, but he never made eye contact. Then finally I asked, “Papa, how did you find us so quickly?”
He looked over at Johnson and nodded in his direction. “He sent a post rider after us. Luckily we hadn’t gotten very far.” I made a face to indicate that I didn’t understand. “Lord Gromley wasn’t well and then Baron threw a shoe. We’ve been stranded in a hamlet without a doctor or smithy waiting for assistance from a nearby town to arrive. Johnson sent detailed instructions as to where to find you, so we left Lord Gromley with his people and came after you.”
He pursed his lips looking at Dr Jefferson. “How did Louisa come to be here?”
Mr Johnson opened his mouth, but Louisa spoke up before he could say a word. “It’s my fault, these men…” she pointed at Robert and Mr Dawson, “followed me when I left the house. They gave me a note from Randall saying that he was sick and needed a doctor. I know that I am stupid just as my uncle always said to think that Randall was changed but he was my friend once, so I sent a note to my Matthew asking for his help and to meet me and these men in the park, that a friend needed his help. I did not tell him it was for Randall.” She bowed her head, so I couldn’t see her face.
I thought it odd that she kept referring to Browne by his first name when she was supposed to be in love with Dr Jefferson. I wondered if that was why the doctor looked so glum, was he jealous that she still might think of Browne as more than a friend.
Dr Jefferson took over the narrative abruptly, “I arrived and found young Robert with his father sitting on the fountain edge where I was supposed to meet Louisa. They explained to me what was really happening then gave me your message, Miss Turner. They accompanied me back to your home where we planned what we would do. We had no idea how many men we’d find so we decided that I should come and assess the situation before calling for the local militia. Johnson went ahead of us on horseback. After I gathered my bag, the Dawsons picked me up and Louisa was already in the carriage. She told me that she’d received at note from Browne saying she was to come with the Dawsons or my life was forfeit.” He glared at her. “Johnson was well ahead of us but when we arrived, his horse was standing at the end of the drive. I was worried that he had been taken so I decided to stick to our original plan. But I had no time to convey it to Louisa. She was very anxious when we arrived and kicked up a bit of fuss when she was not allowed to follow me.” He looked at her and she blushed. “Once I entered the room with Richards and Browne, she started to scream something in Spanish…I suppose she feared for my safety.” He continued to look at Louisa intently, but she sat looking contrite with her head down. Then he continued, “But she stopped when Robert slapped his hand across her mouth.” Louisa looked up and for a split second I caught her glaring at Dr Jefferson, but he pretended that he didn’t noticed. Then Mr Dawson groaned, holding his head, he looked ill.
Thus distracted, the doctor changed the subject. “I assume Mr Dawson from the looks of you that you must have a massive headache?” Dawson nodded and grimaced as the doctor continued, “I’ll give you some willow bark for that in a bit but giving up the drink will help more.”
I just realised then that no one had asked about Browne? “What about Browne? Is he dead?”
Dr Jefferson shook his head no. “I missed him when I shot, and he got away.”
He looked at Mr Johnson who was staring into his mug of tea. “You followed him, but Browne’s horse would have been fresh…he must have out-distanced you easily.” He only nodded. “I suppose then he must be on his way to France and good riddance.”
Father was picking apart a piece of bread. “I’d still like to know why he kidnapped Lissa. None of this makes any sense! What did he hope to achieve?”
Robert cleared his throat. “Mr Turner, sir, Mr Browne was not right in the head. He hates you something fierce. He and Richards talked about you all the time, how it was because of you that he wasn’t welcomed here in England and he’d been branded a traitor without proof. He said that he was going to fix you as bad as you fixed him. They talked about it all the time when they were in their cups about how much they hated you and a man named Samuel. Richards said once that your interference was upsetting their investors something fierce.”
Uncle Samuel raised his arm. “For the sake of the narrative, I’m Samuel.”
Robert glanced at him, forcing a weak smile. Angel giggled, and Robert gave her a sharp look then he continued, “You’d messed up Mr Browne’s smuggling ventures and because of you he owed a lot of money to some really bad people. He’s afraid of a big dark man what captains one of the smuggling ships but I don’t know why. But the way he describes him I think it’s the man who has come here a couple of times looking for him. But I don’t know who he is.”
My father leaned forward looking very interested, “What did he look and sound like, Robert?”
Robert looked wary. “Angel and Da were the only ones that saw him close up. I only heard him talk a few times. He had a strange voice, it was deep, and I’ve never heard nothing like it before.” Robert turned to Angel who nodded but you could see that she was afraid. Mr Dawson had his head down on his arms, not looking at anyone. “Go on, Angel, tell ’em the story he told you.”
I knew Angel was shy, so I reached across the table to touch her hand. We smiled at each other and she began speaking hesitantly. “He would come in here and most often I’d be cooking. He liked how warm it was in the kitchen…he didn’t like the cold. He was a big man, bigger than anyone I’d ever seed and his skin was dark but not black. He had long dark curly hair, dark eyes, a long straight nose and a hard mouth. He scared me a bit, but he never laid a hand on me nor yelled at me. He’d just sit and stare into the fire and talk. He told me about how he and his wife had been captured by pirates and sold to some people far away in the Indies, but he’d run away from them and become a pirate.” Her eyes became enormous when she said the word pirate. “But only because he needed to raise money to free his family. When he had enough he went to buy their freedom, but they were gone, nobody knew where they were. He was told that the owners had sold up and gone back to England. He was sad and wanted to find them, that’s why he’d come to England. He wanted to find those people and make me tell him what had happened to his wife and children. And to… Ah,” she paused looking for the right words and then she sat up straight and recited carefully, “and to get ret-tri-bution.”
Father and Samuel didn’t seem to note anything peculiar about the story, but I instantly thought of the Clarkes and wondered if they had owned this man and his family or was it just coincidence.
Mr Johnson just sat there while she talked, staring down at the table like he was deep in thought tracing the grain of the wood with his finger. He caught me watching him and the look he gave me was like he could see into my soul. It gave me a shiver and I wondered what he had on his mind.
Mr Dawson sat up straight, tapping the table in front of him to get our attention. “I think you all need to get back to Lon’on and the sooner the better. There has been murder done here and there’s no telling what might happen if you’re still here tonight when the goods from the ship start to arrive. It could be trouble! I might be able to talk some sense into whoever comes with the wagons but if Browne is with them, nothing good will happen. You need to go, and I want you to take my family with you. Please.” He had tears in his eyes. “I need you to protect them; just get them to Lon’on. Promise me you’ll take them with you.”
Johnson looked at him in awe. “That’s very decent of you, Dawson, you really aren’t a blackguard after all. We can get them to L
ondon, but have you thought about what happens to them then?”
Dawson shrugged. “My Bess can manage with Robert and Angel and…well, they all be hard workers, they’ll be fine.” No one seemed to notice that he had not included himself in this plan to go to London with his family. Mrs Dawson looked close to tears, Angel looked terrified while Robert was staring hard at his father. I could tell that he at least had no intention of leaving. I would bet that Mr Dawson would have a fight on his hands if he tried to make any of them leave.
Mr Johnson was tapping his lips and in a lighter tone, said, “You know I’ve been looking for a bit of property and even though this place is in a shamble, it has good bones. It’s not that far from London and there doesn’t appear to be an owner. It’s ideal!”
Father rubbed his forehead looking puzzled then flinging out a hand in frustration, “What nonsense are you talking, Miles?”
Mr Johnson smirked. “I’m looking to establish myself, Turner. I can’t continue to sponge off your charity and if my father dies any time in the next few years. I’d like to have a refuge for my stepmother and her children. Preferably one that can generate an income, so we at least won’t starve. I think this place would do nicely. Of course, I’ll have to approach the old man to fund this little enterprise and to help me refurbish it, but I’m sure he’ll be amenable. At least it will be something that my dear brother won’t be able to touch.” He turned to Dawson. “Dawson, you did say that this was once a working farm, am I right?”
Dawson nodded. “Yes, sir, it was and a profitable one too with it bein’ so close to Lon’on.”
Father chuckled. “And what about the local smugglers? How do you propose to dispose of them, Miles?”
Dawson cleared his throat. “Well, sir, the local men, they be kinda scared of the place. Seeing as how Richards set it about that the place were haunted by the old lady what died here. But there ain’t no truth to it, nope, not a bit. Besides it’s too far from Poole for the locals to use the cellars for their bits and bobs and the barns are in no state to hide a stash of goods for any length of time. Richards only used this place because it’s away from prying eyes and he could divide up the goods then send the wagons on their way.” The Dawsons were all nodding.