From the cover of a coppice she watched to see what Silas would do when he reached the main gates, knowing this was the crucial moment when the terrible suspicion gathering in her mind would be either confirmed or denied. It was confirmed, and she hurried on after him.
Had he turned in at the main gates she might yet have wondered if the brandy was being sent as a sly peace-offering before Derby Day from Hedley to Dominic, but instead Silas became even more cautious and difficult to keep in view, giving the tall wrought-iron entrance gates a wide berth and darting past them along by the thick hedge on the opposite side of the lane, almost in the ditch. Then suddenly he was gone from sight as completely as if the night had swallowed him up.
Warily she approached the spot where she had last glimpsed him, afraid he might be lurking there, but the stretch where he had hurried along was deserted. Still taking care herself to keep to the darkest and most sheltered places, she hastened on along the lane until she came to the wide, white-painted, five-barred gate which opened to a separate drive that led to the Ainderly Hall paddocks and the stables, shrouded now in blackness, the trees and bushes creating a tunnel of foliage.
She had no doubt that it was the way that Silas had taken. The business he was about was evil and it had all become crystal clear to her. Hedley was determined that Surplice should win, for without doubt he had laid heavily against the horse when the odds were long, and the only serious threat to Surplice’s chances lay with Merry Day. For once Dominic must have drawn the line at interference in a race, seeing that his own filly was involved, and when he had refused to instruct his jockey to “pull” her and hold her back from winning, which would have enabled him to win as hugely as Hedley on the other horse, Hedley had taken matters into his own hands. Silas had been dispatched to inflict some harm on Merry Day that would prevent her from racing on the morrow.
There in the darkness, pushing open the gate, she almost wept in rage against their wickedness and in terror for the safety of the beautiful creature sleeping quietly in her stall while danger crept up silently out of the night. Any nervousness for herself being out alone and unprotected vanished before the thought of the vulnerability of Merry Day, and she half-walked, half-ran on the soft, turfy verge of the long gravelled drive in a determined effort to catch sight of Silas again and to be ready to raise the alarm when he reached the stables. Her feet were soundless and there was nothing to hear but the beating of her own heart and the rustle of the branches overhead and on either side.
When the drive curved, following the paddock fence beyond the trees, she glimpsed ahead at the end of the black, leafy tunnel the archway into the stableyard where a few lamps made illuminated patches on the whitewashed walls of the buildings and caused the cobbles to gleam like gray pearls. Then her attackers struck.
With united shouts that resounded like a clap of thunder they sprang out from the blackness, and their fists, aimed wildly, caught her blows across the face, in the stomach, over the breasts, and something hard crashed against her head. With the breath knocked from her she uttered no more than a rasping gasp, blood flooding into her mouth, and she collapsed on the ground, two heavy bodies tumbling on top of her with more pummelling blows. It was then that her third assailant, who was still on his feet, opened the lantern he was carrying and gave a hoarse shout.
“It’s my sister! Get off her! Get off her, I say!” He pulled like a madman at the two stable lads, who had stopped raining blows at his shout and drew back amazed to see it was a girl they had attacked. Roger dropped to his knees beside her. “Tansy! Speak to me! We didn’t know it was you. We’re on guard to see that no intruder gets in to try to nobble Merry Day.” He lifted her head helplessly between his two hands, aghast at the terrible pallor of her face and the blood running from her lip. “Say something to me!” He was in tears.
“‘I’ll get help!” exclaimed one of his companions, leaping up and dashing through the archway, his boots clattering on the cobbles. The other lad picked up the lantern that Roger had thrown down and held it awkwardly, not knowing what to say or do. The gormless lass! he thought between pity and contempt. Fancy creeping about in the darkness near racing stables on the night before Derby Day. She should have known there would be stable personnel on the lookout for intruders, even though Merry Day’s own lad was locked into the loose box with her, a cord in his hand ready to sound an alarm bell should anyone start tampering with the lock and trying to get in to them. Mr. Reade had come to check himself that neither Mr. Kirby nor the head stable lad had overlooked anything, a most unusual occurrence, but then it was not every day that Ainderly Hall had a possible Derby winner within its boundary walls.
Tansy had made an effort to sit up and Roger was putting his arms about her to support her against him. She took from him the kerchief he had whipped from about his neck and held it against her lip in an attempt to stem the blood.
“I’m not badly injured,” she croaked half-humorously, still dazed, but wanting to reassure her brother, for he looked desperately alarmed and frightened, “only a little knocked about.”
Her head was swimming with pain and her body shrieked out where the blows had landed, but she was dismayed when the head stable lad arrived at a run with a stretcher, others with him, and she protested when he insisted that she be lifted onto the stretcher. “No, Mr. Harris. I’m well able to walk.”
“We’re taking you up to the Hall, ma’am. You may need a doctor and this affair is something Mr. Reade must know about without delay.”
A plaid blanket was put over her and she was carried at a swift pace away from the stables and through a side door into the Hall, another lad running on ahead to take word of what had occurred. By the time a couple of yards along a downstairs corridor had been traversed they were met by Dominic in evening clothes, a footman who had conveyed the stable lad’s news in his wake.
“Carry her in here,” Dominic said, opening a door. “I’ve already sent for the doctor.”
Roger stayed with her, the rest departing, and he and Dominic between them lifted her from the stretcher to the sofa where she lay propped against cushions, her cloak removed. She was shivering with shock and Dominic tucked the blanket, which smelled faintly of bran and horses, closer around her. The realization of why she was there in the first place came swooping back to her.
“I must tell you — ” she began, but Dominic interrupted her. “Don’t talk,” he said calmly. “Plenty of time for explanations later.”
“No, it cannot wait! I believe Merry Day to be in danger. I’ve no proof, but I’m certain that Hedley’s man, Silas, means mischief. I followed him from Rushmere.”
Dominic’s glance became guarded, but he was undisturbed by what she had told him. “Nobody can get at Merry Day before the race. We’ve taken the utmost precautions.”
“Suppose the filly was left unprotected when all those people came to look after me!” she cried, clutching at his hand. “Please make sure. Please!”
He smiled reassuringly, folding her fingers over his, and sat down on the edge of the sofa, facing her. “Every precaution has been taken. Those keeping watch over Merry Day’s loose box have had instructions not to leave their posts under any circumstances, but if it will set your mind at rest Roger shall go back there now and tell Harris I want him to make an extra round to make sure that all is in order.”
She relaxed, feeling that everything was in safe hands, and saw Roger depart. He passed in the doorway a middle-aged woman in neat black, whom Tansy recognized as Dominic’s housekeeper, Mrs. Burton. She was carrying a tray of tea, and over her arm she had a snowy white blanket to replace the one from the stables.
“I’ve brought Miss Marlow a hot drink to alleviate the shock,” Mrs. Burton said in explanation to Dominic, who withdrew from the sofa and let her take over. Before long the doctor arrived and then he left the room.
“No broken or cracked ribs,” Dr. Westlake said with satisfaction while Mrs. Burton hooked up the back of Tansy’s dress again.
“You’ve a cut lip that’s in no need of a stitch, a black eye that a pugilist wouldn’t be ashamed of, a sore spot on your head that’s going to be tender for a long time, and more than a fair share of bruises, but that’s the sum total of your injuries.” He went to the door to admit Dominic back into the room again and repeated what he had said. “So if Miss Marlow can be shown to a room now and rest quietly for a few days —”
“No, I cannot do that!” Tansy exclaimed agitatedly, snatching up her cloak to swing it about her shoulders. “I must go home at once. I have a houseful of guests to look after. My sister cannot manage alone.”
They tried to persuade her against leaving, but she was adamant. Finally Dominic turned to Mrs. Burton. “I know you have my houseful of racing guests to take care of, but can two maidservants be spared to assist Miss Marlow over the next few days?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll see that they’re at Rushmere by five-thirty tomorrow morning.”
Tansy was given no chance to have a say in the matter, Dominic thanking the doctor, who was making his departure, giving her final instructions not to put her foot to the floor for twenty-four hours, and then Roger arrived to report that Mr. Harris said all was well in all quarters.
Dominic took her home and saw her into the house. Judith, who had been at a loss to know where she had gone, cried out at the sight of Tansy’s cut and swollen face and had to be quickly reassured. Tansy spoke to Dominic as he was about to leave.
“One moment!”
“Yes?” he turned inquiringly on the doorstep.
“I wish you good luck tomorrow. I hope Merry Day wins.” “Your good wishes mean more to me than you realize.” Then he was gone.
The next morning Tansy was stiff and aching in every limb. Thankfully she lay in bed while the two Ainderly Hall maids and Judith managed everything capably between them, explaining her non-appearance to the guests as her involvement in a slight accident. But when it came to late afternoon she decided she had carried out the doctor’s instructions long enough for one day, and she dressed, put on the black eye-patch he had given her, tying it with ribbons behind her head, and with a veil over her face she went out to the gates to ask the result of the Derby from the first home-coming racegoer who passed by.
Two men on horseback soon came along, the cut of their flashy clothes telling her they were connected with the racing world, and she darted out into the lane to hail them with a little wave. “Please tell me, who won the Derby?”
One of the two answered her glumly, which left her in no doubt that he had had a thin day. “Surplice, ma’am. He held a good position throughout the whole race. There was a last-minute challenge by Springy Jack, but Surplice won easily.”
“It weren’t no popular win,” his companion joined in, “and there were a right rowdy reception that ‘ad Sim Templeman, Surplice’s jockey, looking real scared, but it were nothing to do with ‘im or the colt, ‘cos they both gave their best and it showed. No, it were the fact that all those rumours about Surplice ‘aving lost ‘is form ‘ad obviously been circulated deliberately to give people in the know a chance to rake in tremendous winnings. You should ‘ave seen those shaking fists and ‘eard the abuse! On second thoughts, maybe it’s as well that you didn’t, ma’am.”
“What of Merry Day?” she demanded impatiently.
“She came in far back.” The man looked questioningly at his friend. “Nineteenth, weren’t she? Even Wild Wind were ahead of ‘er.”
“Why?” Tansy cried. “What could have gone wrong?”
“That’s easily answered. I ‘eard it on all sides. ‘Er jockey, Nat Gobowen, ‘ad been on the booze all night and were drunk in the saddle. Not that it noticed in the enclosure, ‘cos ‘e always sits tight and quiet before a race, never opening ‘is mouth, but as soon as the race started it were clear that ‘e ‘ardly knew what ‘e were doing.”
“Thank you,” Tansy said almost inaudibly, drawing back inside the gates. The men nodded amiably to her and rode on. She stayed where she was, eyes shut, leaning back against the closed gates. So Hedley had won after all! Silas had not been bound for the stables, but for the cottages on the Ainderly Hall estate where the jockeys were housed overnight or during times of prerace trials. Merry Day had had no need of all that elaborate protection. It had all been skilfully bypassed and the filly’s loss of the race neatly ensured in a way that nobody else had thought of.
It was quite late that evening when Dominic came to see how she was, bringing her a nosegay of flowers set in a lace frill and tied with peach satin ribbons. She received him in the room off the kitchen where she was continuing to keep out of the sight of her guests and their servants.
“I’m sorry about the result of the race,” she said when she had thanked him for the flowers and they were both seated opposite each other in cushioned wicker chairs.
“You were right about Silas being up to no good, but not in the direction we had imagined,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Nat Gobowen said that Silas called on him with a gift of the brandy and to wish him luck. They had ridden against each other many a time in the past, and although Nat had been on his way to bed he allowed himself to be persuaded to take one drink and saw no harm in it. He remembers almost nothing after that.”
“I think the brandy was drugged.” She told him of her original suspicions.
“I’m certain you’re right. The brandy bottles have been examined, but there’s no sediment, nothing except a faint, slightly sickly aroma that soon dispersed. One of two people couldn’t even discern that, so we’re without any proof. I can tell you now that here in this house Hedley offered me five thousand pounds to withdraw Merry Day from the race at the very last minute. He wanted me to stake my money on Surplice instead as he had done.”
“That’s why you were so angry,” she mused.
“I had good reason to be doubly so,” he said enigmatically, more to himself than to her.
She decided it might be the right moment to show her hand. “Why did you pretend not to know Brett on that occasion? He was in the hall, but you passed him as if you had never seen him before in your life.”
He was visibly shaken by her disclosure that she knew more than he had realized. “I’ll not lie to you. I do know him, but there are the most urgent reasons why you should keep your discovery to yourself. How did you find out?”
“I was sitting on a stone by the river on the night you and Brett met at the bridge. I recognized him from his voice the first evening he arrived at Rushmere.”
He shook his head in mingled astonishment and incredulity. “To think we believed that none would see or overhear us. He was passing through the district and I thought that such a place to meet was safe enough, it being important that he should not be seen at my home. To the best of my knowledge my servants are trustworthy, but there can be spies everywhere when high winnings are at stake, and the visit of a Jockey Club investigator would have been reported. It was imperative that Hedley in particular should have no cause to wonder whether Brett had come to seek or receive information.” He gave her a long look. “I wasn’t happy about letting Hedley book accommodation under your roof, but it was a way to give Brett the unique opportunity of keeping him under close surveillance.”
“I suppose that means he went through Hedley’s belongings to see what he might find,” she exclaimed.
“He opened the medicine chest twice with a key of his own. It contains all the usual drugs to make a horse unfit to run or render a jockey incapable of riding, but that’s no proof.” He spread his hands wide. “All of those decoctions have domestic uses too. After the Derby, Brett opened the chest a second time and found that there was less opiate in one phial than before, but Hedley could swear that he needed it for toothache or rheumatism or anything else he cared to name.”
“Isn’t Hedley taking a great risk in using such potions? Suppose he misjudged a dose and brought about some unfortunate jockey’s death?”
“He specializes more in bribes to make jockeys p
ull a race, but Nat Gobowen is a jockey of high principles who has never run a dishonest race in his life, and Hedley knew that. So you see why he had to use the method that he did. I had to have an assurance from Brett, whose idea it was that Hedley should stay here, that he would keep a close eye on you all the time the man was in your home, because Hedley is without scruples in all fields.” He gave a rueful smile. “Brett was greatly alarmed when you set off to follow Silas just ahead of him. He decided to stay a little distance behind you, and when you turned into the entrance of the stable drive he thought you still had Silas in view and followed after. He was too far to prevent the attack on you when it came, but before he could reach you your brother had shone the lantern and he decided you would be in good hands. He tried to pick up Silas’s trail again, but in vain — as I was so soon to discover to my cost.”
“Surely Hedley’s attempt to bribe you is proof enough for the stewards to see that he was responsible for interfering with the race — or is it that you dare not risk laying the evidence before them?” There was a fierce challenge in her tone, her expression one of despairing anger.
“Dare not?” He gave a nod. “Yes, for the time being I dare not, for there was none to bear witness. I hadn’t counted on Silas closing the door and keeping guard over it after I had carefully left it ajar. Hedley is no fool.”
“Was Brett to be that witness?”
“Yes. Both he and I had hoped that Hedley might let slip some word to reveal what skullduggery he had in mind for twisting the results of the Derby to suit his own ends, but when I heard Silas close the door I knew the chance had been lost again.”
His answers puzzled her, for he had spoken consistently as a man with no guilt of his own to hide. She deliberated briefly. “I think I could help you to get the evidence you missed before.”
The Marlows Page 25