Hareton Hall: Richard and Rose, Book 6

by Lynne Connolly

  “Well, ma’am,” said the elder brother, turning back to face me, “I can promise you that we’re not responsible for any of the attacks on you recently.” He spoke with a faint Devon accent, but could still be taken for a gentleman. I wondered where they lived, and I guessed somewhere large like Exeter, where they could disappear in the crowd and also keep an eye on comings and goings in the Customs house.

  “Lord Strang and I came to an agreement two years ago, and it’s suited us well enough since,” he continued. I nodded. “He made it quite clear what he could do if we harmed you or yours, and I’ve no wish to start all that again.” He paused. “But I did suspect him recently. We’ve had a lot of trouble, ma’am, I don’t mind telling you.” His expression turned grim. “It started when the Excise seemed to know more than was good for them. I suspected a spy, and I still do, but we’ve not found him yet. You know our operations here since the late unpleasantness—quiet, with the least violence and fuss. We’re businessmen after a good profit, and we don’t want to harm that.”

  “I can’t condone what you do,” I said, “but you aren’t as bad as some I’ve heard of.”

  “The Hawkhursts,” he returned. “Not our way, ma’am. Not good for business.” He sighed. “At least it wasn’t.” He exchanged another glance with his brother and then turned back to us. “Some of our runs were broken up by the Excise. Now we went to someone we know in the offices and he couldn’t tell us who it was, who was letting them know. Then it got worse.

  “Our last big run was two weeks ago. You know we work by the moon if we can, so it would’ve been easy to work out when the next one was. We were attacked by people I don’t know. They killed two of my men and we lost most of the cargo. They waited until we unloaded the ship and loaded the packhorses. They couldn’t have chosen a better time.” He glanced at Richard, his stare accusatory. “It reminded us of another attack, two years since.”

  “Ah, but I didn’t want your cargo,” Richard said, referring to the time he’d clashed with the gang. “I wanted to make sure you knew who you were dealing with and where I drew the line.”

  Cawnton smiled grimly and then continued to tell us his story. “It beats me where they came from, but my brother Eddie here had the idea—servants. There’s lots of big strong lads in the big houses hereabouts. Knowing who and what Thompson’s is, I was going to contact you anyway and ask for your help.”

  “A trifle impertinent,” I said.

  He nodded in agreement. “It was all I could think of. And even if you wouldn’t help me, you would want to stop the violence. If you weren’t involved, of course.”

  “I’ve seen what you can do,” I pointed out. “You’re not averse to violence yourself.”

  Cawnton shrugged. “We try to avoid it. Sometimes we can’t.” He didn’t seem sorry for the deaths he’d caused, but to be just, they were not as brutal as some of the other smuggling gangs. “I’ve always found bribery works better than violence. It’s cheaper in the long run. These new people don’t seem to care. We’ve another big one coming up soon, and we’re going to have to make sure we have the means to defend ourselves. It’s all a loss of profit, ma’am, and we’d like to stop it. Then your husband was kind enough to tell us about your problems, and we wondered—was this the same people?”

  “What about the fire at Hyvern?” I asked. Richard raised a brow. He must have known I’d ask that. “Was that you?”

  “On my honour, no, ma’am,” he answered. “I did think of getting rid of it, buying it perhaps, but somebody got there first. Then I found out who it was, and I wasn’t so worried anymore.”

  “Oh?” I wondered why Steven’s presence wouldn’t worry the smugglers.

  “We had dealings with him before,” Cawnton explained. “Always found him amenable in exchange for a case of French wine.” I knew. When Steven had lived here before he’d been desperately poor, grateful for any gifts that came his way. Now, he might allow the smugglers access to his property for the thrill of it. But there was no chance of that now. Hyvern was gone.

  “That house could have been useful,” Eddie Cawnton complained. His voice was lighter than his brother’s but the accent was the same.

  “It could,” his brother agreed. “No, that wasn’t us either, ma’am. So we can put that down to whoever this is, too, can we?”

  “It certainly looks that way,” Richard said. “We’re agreed these people must be stopped. They are inconvenient to you, and they have threatened my wife. I shall certainly have enquiries put out in all local households to see if we know where the men are coming from. Do you know how many there were?”

  Cawnton frowned in thought. “About twenty, I’d say. They were mounted and well armed, and they took us by surprise. They knew what they were doing, that’s for sure.”

  “They could be soldiers,” Richard commented. “The army has laid off a lot of men in recent years.”

  The brothers considered him for a moment before agreeing. “They could,” said the elder brother. “I’d not thought of that. But one thing’s certain. This is costing us money. And if it carries on, we’ll all be taken by Customs or Excise, or even the King’s men. Did you know there was a Bow Street man in the area?”

  Richard gave a low whistle of surprise. “You knew that?”

  “Did you?” Cawnton’s surprise equalled Richard’s.

  “Yes. But we can use him.”

  “How’s that?” asked Eddie Cawnton sharply.

  “If we can find out who is doing this, we can hand them over to the Redbreast,” Richard explained. “Let the authorities deal with them. Make it seem as if it was Bow Street work. Fielding is anxious to bring esteem to his enterprise, and he would seize this with both hands.”

  Cawnton looked at his brother. They studied each other in silence. Richard sat, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, long hands steepled in front of him. He winked at me before the brothers turned back to us and caught my grin.

  “Sounds like a workable plan,” said the elder Cawnton. “I’ll look about for anyone who was involved in any of the attacks on Lady Strang as well as anyone who knows about the people who attacked us. One more thing…”

  “Yes?”

  “The people who attacked us. One hung back. I don’t think it was cowardice or anything like that. I think he was organising everything. It was well planned and well executed, otherwise they wouldn’t have got away with it.”

  “It doesn’t surprise me,” Richard said. “I thought there was one—perhaps two or three—minds behind this. I don’t yet know why it affects us, but perhaps the person knows about our connection with Thompson’s and wants to warn us off.”

  “Sounds reasonable, sir,” said Cawnton.

  “I won’t have it,” Richard said firmly. Then he looked up at Carier. “How are our enquiries going?”

  Carier replied readily. “Nothing from London yet, my lord. But we have a few reports of new servants in the households hereabouts. Footmen, for the most part.” Footmen were employed for their looks and strength. A footman had to be of average height or better to stand a chance of employment in a substantial household.

  “Hmm.” Richard and Cawnton made the same thoughtful sound at the same time.

  “Are we having them watched?” Richard asked.

  “Naturally, my lord,” replied Carier smoothly.

  “I’ll ask around the farms,” said Cawnton. “Perhaps there’s some new labourers.”

  Richard got to his feet in one graceful movement and came to me. “I will not have my wife troubled by this anymore,” he said. “If it means punishment, I want to know about it, perhaps administer it myself.”

  “You know what that means?” Cawnton said, startled.

  Richard glanced over his shoulder at the other man. “Yes,” he said simply. He held out his hand to me and I let him help me get to my feet. He kept hold of my hand and turned to look at our visitors. “If I have to kill him to stop him, I’ll do it.” It was said so calmly that it wa
s hard for anyone who didn’t know him well to believe it. I knew him well.

  Chapter Eleven

  Richard decided to accompany me when I paid my visit to Mrs. Hoarty. I persuaded him to walk; I was sick of the carriage. However, the sword he took wasn’t a dress sword, and both Nichols and Carier came with us. It was a fine day with no one in sight when we crossed the hill that hid the village of Darkwater from Hareton. Carier and Nichols kept their distance and I couldn’t remember feeling more relaxed since we had left Oxfordshire. We went on many strolls together there, sometimes with Potter and Helen. When I remembered, my face must have clouded over a little for he asked me if there was anything wrong.

  I smiled and laid my hand over his. “No. I just miss Helen, that’s all.”

  “So do I.”

  “I’d have been devastated if you’d gone too,” I confessed. “We’ve not been apart since we met in Venice.”

  “I don’t intend for us to spend any time apart ever again. You bring so much to me every day I’d find it insupportable to be away from you for very long.”

  We reached the village and strolled up the single street while Nichols and Carier moved closer to us. People stopped to bow to us when we passed, but we didn’t do more than acknowledge the greeting. We’d sent a footman on ahead so Mrs. Hoarty would expect us.

  The day was chilly despite the sunshine, so I wore my heavy green cloak over a blue ribbed silk gown. Time for the heavier gowns to come out, the last of summer seeping away as October aged on us.

  Mrs. Hoarty’s house was set at the end of the main street, where she kept her eye on the comings and goings. The maid took my cloak, hat and gloves, and showed us into the large drawing room at the front of the house.

  The presence of her son and his new wife came as a surprise to me. Mr. Hoarty was a prosperous lawyer in Exeter, and although he visited his mother whenever he could, he didn’t live with her. He was a little older than James and growing broader with prosperity. His wife appeared out of the flush of youth, but not too old for childbearing. She was thin, the bulge of her bosom hardly showing above the neckline of her fashionably low-cut pink gown, and under the lace, her arms looked stick-like, but her pleasant smile and graceful curtsey indicated a good character.

  Mrs. Hoarty’s weakness prevented her rising from her chair, so Richard took her hand and bowed over it. I watched Richard’s precise, graceful bow with appreciation. She smiled her delight. “It’s a long time since a gentleman showed me such distinction.”

  Richard inclined his head and sat in the chair she motioned him to, next to her. He swept the long skirts of his coat into an elegant disposition as he sat, a gesture so much him that he didn’t need to think about it, and then settled into a familiar posture of ease. “I’m glad to see you again, the lady who was so kind to my wife when she needed a friend.” Richard was very loyal to his friends and never forgot a good turn.

  Mrs. Hoarty smiled. “She needed the company of an undemanding person after her mother died, before her new mother, when the house went to rack and ruin for a year. I enjoyed her company, then and afterwards.”

  The manor had been nowhere near rack and ruin, as I recalled. Dinner was still served at the correct hour, the housework was done and correct hours rigorously kept—it was just soulless and I needed more than that. “I loved to come here,” I said, smiling at the old lady. “My grandparents were all dead, and you were like I imagined a grandmother should be. I held your embroidery floss for you and sorted the colours. I used to love that.” I addressed the younger Mrs. Hoarty, who sat next to me on the spacious sofa. “Did you know Mrs. Hoarty before your marriage?”

  “Not very well, my lady. I’d met her once or twice, but no more than that. My father is a judge in Exeter, and we lived on the other side of the city to this.”

  “I see. And how long have you been married?”

  “A twelvemonth.” She flashed a look at her husband, and with a small shock, I recognised the glance. Marrying for love seemed to be on the increase. That glance showed me all I needed to know. It was contentment. I was happy for them.

  The maid brought tea and the younger Mrs. Hoarty poured, as old Mrs. Hoarty’s hands were too crippled now to hold a teapot properly. She had to hold the tea dish with both hands.

  We chatted, Richard completely at his ease, as he was everywhere, but I knew him better now, enough to know he enjoyed this quiet visit.

  We heard the sound of raised voices from outside the house, and Richard looked up enquiringly. Mr. Hoarty went to the window. “My lord,” he murmured.

  At once Richard went over to join him, standing beside Mr. Hoarty instead of plumb in front of the window. He was an instantly recognisable figure. This had happened before and Richard had broken up a fight between two smugglers in the village street. My stomach tightened. No, please no. Let it be a momentary fracas between villagers.

  The two men watched in silence until Mr. Hoarty said, “Do you think they’re coming here?”

  “I’m not sure,” Richard replied. “In any case, I’ve seen enough.” He spun away from the window and called out, “Carier!”

  The manservant appeared almost instantly. Richard jerked his head towards the window. “You’ve seen?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “What?” I was alarmed now, but knew better than to go over to the window. I stood up and looked instead, and what I saw made me catch my breath in fear.

  The once quiet street was thronged with men. Men in an angry mood.

  I found it difficult to make out the factions, but a full-scale battle was taking place before our eyes. The noise increased, and the sound of clashing swords followed the explosion of pistols. Several men laid about them with the pistol butts, and others wielded makeshift weapons of hoes and here and there a scythe. I shuddered.

  The younger Mrs. Hoarty got to her feet too, and after one look she paled and compressed her lips tightly.

  She stared at me, grey eyes filled with apprehension. “What do they want? Will they harm us?”

  I looked down to where her mother-in-law sat, pale, her thin lips compressed into a tight line. “I don’t know, but they don’t seem interested in us.”

  Richard spoke to Carier. “Is there any way we can get help without going through that crowd?”

  “I’ll find out, sir.” Carier left the room.

  Richard glanced at me and nodded. “All right?”

  “Yes.” The younger Mrs. Hoarty had my arm in a death grip, but with my other hand I reached into my pocket and got out my pistol. Mr. Hoarty’s eyes widened when he saw it, but he said nothing.

  Carier returned. “I’ve sent a footman to Hareton. He says if he runs by the fields, around the back of the village, he can get there in half an hour.”

  “Then it’s best we stay put,” Richard said decisively and glanced out of the window once more. “We should go upstairs.” He turned to Mrs. Hoarty. “Would you mind if we carried you upstairs, ma’am? There’s some trouble outside, and we might be safer where we can observe more discreetly.”

  Mrs. Hoarty returned an affirmative and mentioned her bedroom, where the windows were hung with gauzy drapes. Richard carried her up himself. He was as gentle as possible and completely careless of his position, despite Mr. Hoarty’s protests. We followed behind, while Richard gently teased the old lady into smiling.

  “It’s a long time since anyone other than a servant has done this for me,” she said.

  “Then you should call on me more. A woman has to be very special for me to do this for her.”

  She smiled and took a deep breath. “You smell so much better than a footman.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Richard answered, and with a gesture of one gnarled hand she indicated which of the doors on the landing we should take.

  Servants scurried about, some in panic, some looking for a vantage point to watch the action outside. I counted. Mrs. Hoarty had six servants, two of them men. Richard ignored them all, but went straight
to the room she indicated and laid his fragile burden on the bed. He gave her a particularly warm smile and left a maid to tuck some pillows behind her, so she could sit up comfortably.

  Richard glanced at Carier. “The footman you sent, will he call a muster if we need one?”

  “He has instructions to rouse all the servants he can at short notice, my lord,” Carier answered. “Riders will be sent to other houses if necessary.”

  “Good.”

  The two large windows in this room were covered with gauze, as Mrs. Hoarty had promised, to soften the light passing through them, and it now provided enough to conceal our presence from anyone outside. Mr. Hoarty, his wife, Richard, Carier and I looked out. Nichols stood just behind me. She’d appeared silently as we ascended the stairs and I knew she wouldn’t leave me until this was over. She held a pistol in her hand. The fighters outside were not intent on us, but they might decide to break in and loot if they thought they could. And I’d begun to see assassins in every dark corner after the previous revelations about the personal attacks on me.

  In the street outside, all was chaos. I looked out and moved closer to my husband. He slipped one arm about my waist and I relaxed into his embrace, glad of the comfort.

  This was no drunken brawl, no half-hearted fight. All the men involved meant it. Hoes and scythes rose and swung together with swords and pistol butts. The men who fell were trampled underfoot, no heed taken of them, no quarter given.

  As I got used to the shock of witnessing such a horrific scene, I noticed the fight taking on a pattern. Behind the thirty or so fighting, shouting men stood a group of horses. Packhorses, heavily laden.

  Some of these men must be Cawntons’, I reasoned, and the others must belong to the other gang, the unknowns. If another smuggling gang was trying to move in on the Cawntons’ area, they would make the area extremely dangerous.

  I glanced at Richard and he nodded. He’d worked it out too. “If our men get here in time,” I said to him, quietly so that the Hoartys wouldn’t hear, “do you think we might try to take one of them to discover more?”