“I’m not going to do anything you tell me. You lied to me. You put my friends in prison. You pretended you were one of us and you put them in prison. And that’s where I’d rather be, with other good men.”
“Hanging with your other good men, you mean? First a poacher, now a rioter…There’ll be no mercy for you if you stay mixed up in tonight’s work, despite your youth.”
“Why should you care?”
“You know why.”
“The poor orphan boy made good. Lies. All lies. Well, fuck you, you Bow Street bastard.”
Walter shifted his weight and raised the branch. He was young, inexperienced and angry, and his clumsy attack gave Dan the upper hand. He stood his ground and let Walter come on.
There was a bang and a flash of light. Walter screamed and skidded to a halt. Dan turned round. Dr Russell stood behind him, one pistol held out, still smoking, another at his side.
“What the hell did you do that for?” Dan yelled.
“He was going to kill you. And I want to do that.”
Dan was so taken up with Walter he thought he had misheard. The doctor had missed, and Walter, realising he was unhurt, had disappeared into the trees. Dan started after him, but Russell pointed the second gun at him.
“Stay where you are or I’ll shoot.”
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m killing you and blaming your little friend for it.”
Russell stooped and picked up the branch Walter had thrown away. He weighed it in his hand. “Nice and heavy. Should break a few bones. Don’t worry, you’ll be out cold. Turn round and kneel.”
The way Josh Castle had been killed: knocked down and beaten to a pulp, only then it had been an iron bar, wielded by a man who knew exactly where to strike. All the time Dan had been wondering when Lord Oldfield had had the chance to get rid of the notepaper from the parlour game, and it had been Russell who had seen Dan notice the paper, Russell who had thrown it on the fire. The realisation that he was looking into the face of Josh’s killer was not likely to do him much good now.
“No. You’ll have to shoot me. Pin that on Walter if you can.”
“Then I’ll shoot you. An unfortunate accident. The boy was attacking you – I fired in the dark – you got in the way – the boy fled. I’ll be grief-stricken, and you’ll be dead.”
“And when they find Walter and he tells them what really happened, what then?”
“Who will believe him?”
“What about the shot you’ve already fired? Someone’s bound to have heard it.”
“Now you’re getting desperate. Obviously I fired at the boy in an effort to bring him down during the chase. Then I fell behind and he cornered you. I ran up to find you struggling with him, etcetera, etcetera.”
“I’ve already told Lord Oldfield it was you who killed Josh. Killing me won’t save you.”
“No, you haven’t. If you had, do you think Lord Oldfield would have let me stand beside him tonight? ‘We were like brothers,’ he said, as he stood blubbering over the body in the ice house. Like brothers – a lord and a gamekeeper! It’s his fault Castle thought so much of himself and got ideas so far above what he deserved. The man was a peasant.”
“A peasant in love with a lady, isn’t that right? I remember now, Doctor. You in the churchyard with Miss Ruscombe on the day of Castle’s funeral, offering her comfort and sympathy over her brother’s grave. You knew she wasn’t weeping for her brother, didn’t you? And you thought all you had to do was wait. She couldn’t mourn a peasant forever.”
Russell had had enough talk. He raised the gun and took aim. There was not much an unarmed man could do save make a desperate attempt to get out of the way. Dan flung himself to the ground. As he went down he thought he saw something move behind the doctor. There was a loud crack. Russell crumpled.
Dan struggled to his feet and limped over to Walter. The youth dropped a fence post and gazed at the fallen man in horror. “Have I killed him?”
“No,” Dan answered, though he could see why Walter might think so. Russell’s face was covered in blood and his eyes stared sightlessly into the darkness. He groaned when Dan snatched the gun out of his hand.
“Why did you do that? You were going to kill me yourself a few moments ago.”
Walter shrugged. “What would Mother have said?”
“Help me get him up. We need to get him back to the Hall.”
“What about Lord Oldfield and the riot?”
“Say you’d come out to gawp at it and it was lucky for me you did…I’ll back you up.”
“But what if the doctor says something?”
Dan hauled Russell to his feet. “Who’ll believe him now?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The doctor was fully conscious by the time Dan and Walter got him back to Oldfield Hall. Crossing the lawn, they saw Mudge and Potter moving around the house with lanterns, checking all was clear. Some of the servants were hammering boards over the broken windows. Inside, others were taking down tattered curtains, shifting scorched furniture, rolling up singed rugs.
Cotterell, Ackland, Witt and Drake were in the hall, checking the firearms.
Cotterell, his eyes bulging with indignation, flew to the doctor’s side. “Dr Russell! This is a fine return for all your charity in the village!”
“Was it an ambush?” asked Witt.
Drake wanted to know if Dan had seen the attackers, and Ackland asked how many there were. Dan ignored their questions.
“Ackland, fetch Lord Oldfield. Witt, Drake, help me get him into the parlour.”
Cotterell, not wanting to miss the excitement, came too. So did Walter, who kept close to Dan. For him, coming into a magistrate’s house was like sticking his head in a lion’s mouth. He withdrew to a corner of the room.
Drake kicked the fire back into life, Ackland brought hot water and dressings, and Witt stood by, cracking his knuckles. Dan was bandaging Russell’s head when Lord Oldfield hurried in.
“Dr Russell, my dear fellow! If I find who did this I – ”
“Walter did it,” Dan interrupted. “And lucky for me he did. This, Lord Oldfield, is Josh Castle’s murderer.”
“Dr Russell? What nonsense is this? Russell, what is this about?”
Russell’s eyes glittered from beneath the bandage and a horrible half-smile, half-sneer twisted his face. “Pity I missed.”
Lord Oldfield turned so white it was hard to tell which of them looked the sicker.
“It was you who shot at me? But why?”
Dan gave the doctor a shove in the back. “Why don’t you tell him, Russell? Tell him it wasn’t for game or money or revenge, but for a woman.”
Lord Oldfield sank into a chair. “What woman?”
“Miss Louisa Ruscombe,” Dan answered.
That drew a response from Russell. “If you were a gentleman, I’d call you out for speaking of a lady in male company.”
“But I’m not a gentleman. Neither was Josh. That’s what rankled, wasn’t it? That she could pass you over for – what was it you called him – a peasant?…Miss Ruscombe and Castle were planning to get married. They thought they’d kept it secret, but the doctor had his eye on Miss Ruscombe, probably followed her to one of their meetings. She knew nothing of his passion for her, nor his villainy. And he blamed you, Lord Oldfield, for raising Castle above his station.”
Ackland appeared at Lord Oldfield’s elbow with a glass of brandy. He took it and gulped it down. “When did you know, Foster?”
“Not until tonight, when I saw Mrs West take a piece of paper from the vase.” Dan took out his pocketbook and unfolded the three Bloodie Bones notes. “It was the same as the one that was pinned to the scarecrow: ‘Tirants Bwar Bloodie Bones.’ Look at how different it is from the other two. It’s written on expensive paper, thick and watermark
ed, not the sort of thing you’d expect to find in a poacher’s cottage. The other two are genuine, this was written by Dr Russell.”
“That sheet of paper?” Cotterell said. “I was using it. I found it in a book when I was browsing.” He turned and waved vaguely towards one of the tables, where lay a number of volumes of prints. “I didn’t know it was important.”
Russell laughed. “There goes your proof, Foster. The paper belongs to Lord Oldfield.”
“Let me see it,” said Lord Oldfield. “It is yours, Russell. It’s the sort you use for Lady Oldfield’s prescriptions.”
“But I left it here and you used it, Lord Oldfield. Or should I say Lord Bloodie Bones? You killed Josh Castle.”
Dan clouted him. “Shut it.”
Russell lay back on the sofa and closed his eyes, smiling to himself at some private joke.
Lord Oldfield handed the note back to Dan. “Strange that a sheet of paper can bring a man to the gallows.”
“I’m not relying on that alone. I may find more of it when I search his house, though I doubt it. He saw me looking at the note when we viewed the body and probably rushed home and destroyed his entire supply. But it doesn’t matter. I have his confession, that and his attempt on my life, which failed thanks to Walter.”
“Who is Walter?”
Dan beckoned to the boy, who stood in the shadows biting his fingernails.
“Walter Halling, apprentice to his uncle, a shoemaker in Stonyton. He came out to look at the riot.”
“What, found it entertaining, did he?” Lord Oldfield snapped.
“As people find fires, floods and brawls entertaining. You can’t blame the lad for that. And you have him to thank for the doctor’s capture.”
“Do I?” Lord Oldfield eyed the boy shrewdly, then with a sharp glance in Dan’s direction wisely decided to stifle his suspicions. “Then you have earned a reward, my lad. I’ll speak to Mudge about it.”
Walter scowled. Dan was afraid he was about to scorn the offer and tax Lord Oldfield with dog-murder, but Cotterell exclaimed, “Good Lord, what now?”
They had been so busy with the doctor they had not noticed the sound of hoof beats drawing near to the house, nor the growing mayhem beyond the drawing room door: running feet, yelling, windows and doors banged shut.
“Keep an eye on him,” Dan said to Witt and Drake.
He ran out of the room, Walter and the others following. He knew it was not the rioters coming back – they would not be on horseback. By the time they’d got outside so did everyone else, and the panic had died down. The door the footmen had been frantically trying to close was flung open. Through it Dan saw half a dozen horsemen riding out of the grey dawn. They clattered smartly down the drive and reined to a halt.
“Where is Lord Oldfield?” cried their captain.
His face was bright with excitement – and what handsome young man wouldn’t enjoy wearing gleaming boots and epaulettes, and galloping about the country on a splendid, snorting horse with a sword at his side and a clutch of like-minded fellows at his back? Lord Oldfield stepped forward. The captain took off his hat and, with an elegant flourish, bowed low in the saddle.
“Captain Ffox-Harrington of the Bath Loyal Association at your service, My Lord.”
“You are very welcome,” His Lordship answered. “Who sent for you?”
“Your rector. Don’t know his name. Turned up in town with some fool of a constable. As soon as he told me you were under siege, I mustered my troop and here we are – volunteers pledged to protect King and Country.”
“Now the fighting’s over,” Ackland muttered.
But Dan was glad to see them. If the rioters did have thoughts of coming back, armed volunteers would put them off. In the meantime, Ffox-Harrington’s men could guard the prisoner while the rest of them got some breakfast.
Reverend Poole and Ayres turned up while they were eating. The rector lapped up Lord Oldfield’s expressions of gratitude for his prompt action, but Ayres kept out of the way. He was glad that no one paid him much attention, though Dan did not hold it against him that he had not the nerve to join the defenders. It was not easy for a man to turn the law on his neighbours, especially so feeble a creature as Ayres.
*
Dan did not find any paper in the doctor’s house and did not waste a lot of time on the search. He was more concerned about seeing the prisoner safe to Shepton Mallet. This time they travelled in Lord Oldfield’s coach and had the Loyalist militia as an escort.
On their return, Ffox-Harrington and his men were entertained to a splendid luncheon by His Lordship and a sparkling Lady Helen. Even old Lady Oldfield smiled upon them with a faraway, reminiscent look in her eye, thinking, Dan supposed, of the gay young officers she had flirted with in her own girlhood. He slipped away as soon as he could. He had one last duty to perform.
*
The cottage door was open, and from inside came the slosh of water. Dan stopped on the threshold, casting a shadow across the room. Anna looked up from her work. A spasm of anger shot across her face, quickly controlled.
“So you’ve come then,” she said, putting aside her mop. She did not take off her apron or smooth her hair.
Dan took off his hat and ducked inside. The chairs stood on top of the table, the hearth was swept and a fire laid, but not lit. The windows were wide open to dry the damp floor. Anna did not offer him a drink or invite him to lift down the chairs.
“I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“I know. In His Lordship’s carriage. I heard it at the village shop this morning. Mrs Travell’s cousin has come over from Bath to help her run the place. I think they’ll get on very well. They’re both women who like a gossip, and you are the talk of the village.”
He tried a smile. “I’m glad I don’t know what they’re saying about me.”
She did not smile back. “I could tell you, if you like.”
“I’m not interested in them. It’s your opinion – ”
“You made clear to me how much you value my opinion when you lied to me.”
“I wanted to tell you. It wasn’t safe. I know Singleton and the rest are neighbours of yours, but to me they were dangerous, violent men, and it was my job to bring them to justice.”
“They were no friends of mine. You know that. I didn’t want Walter running with them. I’m glad they’re in prison.”
“He isn’t.”
“He will be when he’s got his own home and family and can look back on his narrow escape. I don’t forget that was your doing. I’m grateful to you for that.”
“I wish the boy well.”
“I expect you do. Is there anything else you lied about?”
“Like what?” Dan asked cautiously.
“Is there a wife back in London?”
“Yes. But it isn’t simple. It’s – ”
“I know. It’s a loveless marriage. You were forced into it. She’s gone off with your best friend. She’s barren, frigid, cold, and a man has his needs. Which is it?”
“It’s none of them. It’s – ”
“Spare me your tale of a wife who is no wife. Do you think that makes it right to lie and cheat and trick people?”
“Anna, I didn’t want – ”
“But you had no choice. Very well, Dan Fielding – I’m sorry, I mean Foster. Your life was in danger, I can see that. But you could have said something without putting yourself at risk. Dan Fielding might have mentioned a Mrs Fielding he’d left behind somewhere. Then at least I’d have made my choice with my eyes open.”
“Would you have made the same choice?”
“Don’t ask me that. Don’t try to trap me into saying it would have made no difference.”
“You still don’t know everything.”
“What is there to know?” She made a dismissive gesture and turned away from
him. He grabbed her wrist and twisted her round to face him. She struggled, but he hung on, let her spit and scratch and kick until her hair was loose and she was sobbing and flushed with anger.
“Her name’s Caroline. She’s a drunk. She’s mad with it. It makes her low, cunning and vicious, fills her with venom, with self-loathing, makes her a fury one minute, a pathetic creature the next. And she hates me, she blames me…and maybe it is my fault. I stopped loving her a long time ago.”
Anna had stopped fighting but he still clung on to her. He let go. When he saw that his fingers had left red marks on her wrist he was filled with self-disgust. He had not only lied to this woman, he had tried to win her sympathy with a whining, self-pitying tale.
“I’m sorry, Anna. That’s all I can say.”
He turned away, had reached the door by the time she caught up to him and clutched his arm. “No, wait! Dan!”
He did not look at her. He could not have seen her if he had for the film across his eyes. Foolish and weak, he told himself, you are foolish and weak. You should keep moving, keep walking, leave it like this. But he did not.
“I’m sorry for you, Dan, I truly am, but you must see that it’s no good for me, or for Walter. The boy needs a father and I need a husband. I hoped you would be that man, though you never spoke any promises. But there’s more to promises than words, isn’t that so?”
“I meant what I said. I wish you and Walter well. If you ever need anything, if there’s anything I can do…”
She laid her finger on his lips. “I don’t want your promises now. I know you don’t think you’re lying, but you are. You’re in a habit of lying. You tell yourself it’s because of your job, and maybe it is to start with. But before you know it, it’s reached into every bit of you until it’s who you are. It’ll be your ruin, you’ll see that one day.” She lowered her hand. “Goodbye, Dan.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
In the morning, Dan breakfasted with His Lordship in his office. Garvey, who was staying on to deal with the enclosure business, ate with the ladies in the dining room.
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