“It’s been my pleasure,” Georgiana said. Her eyes went involuntarily towards the damp patches on the walls. She had not missed the edge in Hill’s voice as he mentioned his wife’s death. The atmosphere of the poorly maintained cottage was not conducive to good health. If one was already ailing, it could hasten the end.
“Why, that’s a fine cheese, miss, oh, and a ham as well. We shall be living like kings. Why, what’s this?”
Georgiana’s attention was caught as Hill reached his hand into the corner of the basket, bringing out Sir Robert’s gold coins glistening in the palm of his hand. He stared at his visitor.
“Miss Grey, I can’t accept this. It’s too much.”
“Yes, of course you must,” Georgiana said hastily. She had hoped the coins would not be found until after her departure. “Please. In truth, they are not from me. They are a present from a... a well-wishing friend, who would be very distressed if you were to refuse.”
Hill looked doubtful. “Who is this friend?”
“Someone who would prefer to remain unknown,” she said promptly. “Please take it. It may help the children.”
“Very well.” His hand closed over the coins. “Where are my manners? I’ve not even offered you anything to drink.”
“No, thank you, Mr Hill, that’s not necessary. I must be on my way.”
He followed her out of the house. “I don’t know what’s going to happen now old Sir Robert’s dead. But I suppose things couldn’t be much worse, at least, not unless he decides to turn me and the children out.”
“Oh, surely not,” said Georgiana, shocked at this possibility.
“In any case,” Hill continued, “that highwayman did the world a favour, killing the old man like he did. It may sound un-Christian, but if I was ever to meet him I’d like to shake his hand.”
“It may not have been a highwayman, you know,” said Georgiana warily.
“Well, I don’t know about that. All I know is that it was Sir Robert’s fault my Dora’s dead. I’ll never forgive that.”
His tone was hard, but Georgiana felt some sympathy for his point of view. She said what she felt she ought. “I do understand your sentiments, Mr Hill. But bitterness can’t help your wife now, or the children.”
Hill gave a short laugh. “Perhaps not, but I can’t be sorry Sir Robert’s dead. I’m not normally a bad-tempered man, Miss Grey, but...”
Georgiana began to feel uneasy. She wondered whether she ought to press the point, but Hill was now smiling at her once again in a pleasant manner. Georgiana returned the smile and after a momentary hesitation, held out her hand. He took it in a warm clasp.
“You will let me know if there is anything I can do?” she said earnestly. “If I can be of any help?”
“Thank you, miss. I shall, though you’ve been much too good to us already.”
“Nonsense.”
“Miss Grey?”
A voice from the road behind Georgiana took her by surprise. She looked around to see the tall figure of Maxwell Lakesby astride a magnificent beast worthy of any highwayman. Aware she was still clasping Mr Hill’s hand, she dropped it quickly, annoyed to find a blush rising to her cheeks.
“Mr Lakesby. Good afternoon. I had not expected to see you here.”
“Just taking the air,” he replied, “and you?”
Joe Hill was eyeing the newcomer with disfavour. Georgiana’s groom stood impassively holding his mistress’s horse.
“Miss Grey very kindly called to offer some help to myself and my children,” said Hill in a tone of some dignity.
“Did she?” inquired Lakesby. “Most commendable.”
Seething with anger at the hint of mockery in Lakesby’s tone, Georgiana was also aware of the indignation of Joe Hill beside her. She knew his pride would be stronger than any concerns over social niceties. Her first thought was to prevent the unpleasantness she could feel threatening. She turned quickly towards Hill.
“I must be on my way, Mr Hill, and I’m sure the children must need you.”
“Aye, I suppose.”
“Good day to you.”
“Good day, Miss Grey.” With a last dark look towards Lakesby, Hill walked slowly back to the house.
“Miss Grey, if you are returning home, I beg you will allow me to accompany you.”
“That is quite unnecessary, Mr Lakesby, my groom is with me.” Georgiana walked quickly towards where her groom stood with her horse. Taking the reins, she mounted the animal before Lakesby could offer assistance.
“True, but I am sure you will not deny me the pleasure of your company.” He glanced towards the cottage. “That man is one of Sir Robert Foster’s tenants, isn’t he?”
“Yes, what of it?”
“He’s not your responsibility.”
“He is in need of help, Mr Lakesby, regardless of whose tenant he is. Sir Robert was an appalling landlord. If he’d kept his properties in better condition, perhaps Mr Hill’s wife wouldn’t have fallen ill.”
“Perhaps not. Does Hill blame Sir Robert for his wife’s death?”
Georgiana was on her guard. “Why do you ask?”
“It would appear to give him a motive for Sir Robert’s murder.”
“You don’t think he was killed by the Crimson Cavalier?” Georgiana inquired.
“Possibly, but it’s by no means certain. You do not think so yourself, do you, Miss Grey?”
“What makes you say that?”
Lakesby gave her a shrewd look. “I rather had the impression you inclined towards his innocence, of this killing, anyway.” He continued lightly, “The Crimson Cavalier is a fortunate fellow to have so many young ladies feeling impelled to defend him. I wish I knew his secret.”
Georgiana glanced towards him. “I cannot imagine,” she said in a tone without interest.
“Are you not among the legions of females bowled over by the highwayman’s charms?” Lakesby asked quizzically.
“Hardly.”
“You seem to have an interest in whether or not he killed Sir Robert Foster.”
“You are mistaken, Mr Lakesby. I am no Bow Street Runner.”
“No.”
Georgiana cast him a sharp glance. To her annoyance, she felt compelled to justify herself.
“One should keep an open mind. Assumptions are dangerous without proof.”
“I see you have your brother’s zeal for justice.”
“How do you know my brother?” Georgiana asked, seizing the opportunity of steering the conversation away from Lakesby’s probing.
Lakesby did not answer immediately. Georgiana had the impression he was giving some consideration to his reply. The thought flashed through her mind that perhaps he was not going to offer one.
“We were first introduced at Oxford, though we have only met very occasionally.”
“I see.” Georgiana paused, wondering whether she should voice her next thought. She decided to go ahead. “I beg your pardon, Mr Lakesby, but I would not have expected you and my brother to be on friendly terms. You and he are, if I may say so, very different.”
Lakesby smiled. “That is true. No, Miss Grey, it would be too much to say your brother and I are friends. However, I’ve nothing against him and bear him no grudge.”
This struck Georgiana as an odd thing to say. Was there some reason Lakesby should bear Edward a grudge? She was wondering how to pursue this question when he spoke again.
“As I said, we have met fairly infrequently. I last saw him at a shooting party a few months ago, at Lord and Lady Wickerston’s.”
“I did not know Edward knew the Wickerstons.”
Lakesby shrugged. “Apparently so. I don’t know them well myself. I accompanied a friend.”
“I see.”
Lakesby looked searchingly at her. “Your sister-in-law was not present. I believe one of the children had some slight indisposition.”
“Really? I wonder what that can have been. I’m sure I don’t remember it.”
Aware of
his intent scrutiny, Georgiana smiled and deftly turned the conversation. “And you, Mr Lakesby? Have you nieces and nephews?”
“No, just my tiresome young cousin. It’s more than enough to be saddled with the guardianship of her.”
“You are unkind.”
“Possibly. However, she can be a confounded nuisance sometimes. I shall be glad when she is safely married and the responsibility of her husband.”
“Was there not some talk of you marrying her?” said Georgiana before she could stop herself.
“I?” Lakesby looked at her in astonishment. “Heavens, no. That is some foolish notion of my Aunt Beatrice, concocted when Louisa was a baby. I am amazed she still cherishes it.”
“I do not think your aunt is a woman who would easily give up her ambitions.”
Arriving outside Georgiana’s house, Lakesby dismounted quickly and handed his reins to the groom while he assisted Georgiana down.
“Do you think I have no ambitions of my own?” he inquired with a smile as she stood opposite him.
Not certain how to respond to this, Georgiana took refuge in the conventional. She smiled and thanked him for his escort as she stepped away to enter the house.
“Miss Grey.”
Georgiana turned her head, and paused with one foot on the bottom step. Lakesby walked purposefully towards her, lowering his voice so he could not be heard by the groom holding the horses.
“You will be careful?”
“What?” Georgiana was genuinely puzzled.
“I don’t know why you’re taking such an interest in Sir Robert Foster’s murder. Boredom, I daresay. I can understand that. Nevertheless, it’s a dangerous game. Whoever killed Sir Robert would hardly hesitate to kill anyone else in their way.”
Georgiana looked at him in surprise as she took in the import of his words. While part of her wanted to repudiate what she saw as his meddling and send him about his business, she could not help appreciating his obvious concern for her safety. She moistened her lips.
“Thank you for the warning, Mr Lakesby. However, you have no need to fear for me. I am quite capable of looking after myself.”
The ghost of a smile took shape around Lakesby’s mouth. “I’ve no doubt you are, Miss Grey. Good day to you.”
He turned on his heel and walked away to take his horse. Georgiana stood watching him. He inclined his head slightly and rode off as she stared after him in growing puzzlement.
Georgiana found her household calmer than she had left it. Her cousin was conferring with the housekeeper. Tom, it seemed, was sleeping peacefully following a visit from the surgeon, who had recommended a few drops of laudanum. James told her the boy had taken it under protest and had capitulated only as he recognised in the doctor’s manner one who would brook no argument. Glad of the quiet, Georgiana walked towards her bedchamber, her mind full of her encounter with Mr Lakesby. Her reverie was shortly interrupted by Emily.
“Everything quite well, miss?”
“Hmm? Oh, yes, thank you, Emily.”
Emily studied Georgiana closely. “If you don’t mind me saying so, miss, you look a bit distracted.”
“Do I?” Georgiana responded. “I beg your pardon, Emily. I met Mr Lakesby as I was leaving Joe Hill’s cottage. He... he’s noticed the interest I’ve been taking in Sir Robert Foster’s murder.”
“Oh, heavens!”
“Don’t worry,” Georgiana smiled. “He shares your own line of thought, Emily. He told me to be careful.”
Emily echoed this sentiment several hours later. As night fell, the Crimson Cavalier stood before her insisting on the need to visit the Lucky Bell to speak to Harry Smith. With the scald on her hand considerably less painful, Georgiana drew on her gloves and reached into the bedside table for her pistol. She knew Emily’s eyes followed her.
“In case anyone sees me,” said Georgiana.
Emily nodded but her face still wore a dissatisfied expression.
“Truly, Emily, I simply need to tell Harry Smith Tom is safe, and then I shall return home.”
“What do you mean to do about Tom when he has recovered?”
Georgiana thought about the boy who had finally given in to sleep after a day spent trying the patience of her most equable servant. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know,” she confessed. “I don’t feel right about sending him back to the Lucky Bell. Perhaps he can be apprenticed somewhere.”
Thanking her guardian angel for the lack of any significant moonlight, a masked Georgiana dismounted some yards away from the Lucky Bell, aiming for maximum silence in her approach. She twisted Princess’s reins around her right hand and was about to lead her forward when the opening of the tavern door held her fixed. Her eyes widened as she saw Joe Hill emerge from its shelter. He did not notice her waiting in the shadows and began to walk solidly down the road, hands in pockets and shoulders slightly hunched. Georgiana was tempted to follow, but it would be difficult for the Crimson Cavalier to explain an interest in his actions should she be noticed. If Hill decided to stand up to the notorious highway robber, she was certain to be exposed. Georgiana smiled ruefully behind her mask as she tied Princess in the thicket at the back of the tavern. Her safest option was to see what she could learn from Cedric’s clientele.
Harry was seated at a corner table in the Lucky Bell, a small glass of dark liquid in front of him. He looked every bit as concerned as she had expected. At the sight of her, he jerked his head towards the door of the small parlour. She nodded and followed him.
“Tom’s missing,” he said as soon as the door was closed behind them.
“I know,” Georgiana replied. “He tried to hold up a coach last night and got shot in the shoulder.”
“What?” Harry looked thunderstruck. “The devil he did.” He frowned. “If he’s been taken up in charge...”
“I don’t think he has,” said Georgiana. “One of the travellers seemed concerned about his injury. I believe he’s safe enough.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. Georgiana recounted briefly her part in Tom’s rescue, keeping it as vague as she could.
“How do you know this?” Harry asked finally.
“I was about to take the coach myself,” she lied promptly. “I was under cover off the road so I saw what happened.”
Harry seemed satisfied with this explanation, commenting only that she was risking a hemp necktie being out on the road with the way things were. Georgiana shrugged.
“By the way,” he said, reaching into his pocket, “I’ve seen old Ben. He offered me ten pounds as well as what I’d given you for those gewgaws.”
“What?” said Georgiana. “Tell him not to waste my time. Give them back to me. You can have your money. I’ll take them somewhere else.”
“Hold on,” said Harry. “I got fifteen. He’ll not go higher.”
Georgiana knew she would have to be satisfied with this; Harry was her best hope of disposing of anything. She nodded and accepted the coins held out by his grubby hand, leaving a couple for his trouble.
“What about that other matter?” Georgiana asked, stowing away the proceeds.
“Ah, now, that’s quite a tale,” said Harry. “Not well loved, our friend the beak. Jim Sykes says he stopped the old man that night, but took off when he had the booty. Says he didn’t pop the cull.”
Georgiana bit her underlip thoughtfully. “Sir Robert was alive when Jim left him?”
Harry nodded. “Mad as fire, Jim said, but gave up the booty. Seemed to be waiting there.”
“How odd.”
Harry shrugged.
“Maybe I should talk to Jim,” said Georgiana.
“No, that you shouldn’t,” said Harry with a vehemence which surprised her. Georgiana stared.
“You leave that to me,” he continued.
“But, Harry–”
“No buts,” he said firmly. “I’ll find out what I can. No sense you riding about for all the world to see.”
Georgiana was left to wonder whether Harry’s in
sistence sprang from a sense of protectiveness or whether he had something to hide.
“All right,” Georgiana nodded. Her own business done, she pondered the best way to broach the subject of Joe Hill. Harry looked questioningly at her.
“Was there something else, my lad?” he asked.
“When I came in, there was a man leaving,” said Georgiana. “I thought I recognised him. Do you know who he was?”
Harry shook his head. “Can’t say as I do. There’s been nobody strange in here this evening.”
“Really?”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. Georgiana mentally cursed herself. The last thing she needed was to provoke him to suspicion. She let the matter drop. He had proved himself a good friend, but she suspected he could be a dangerous enemy. If he had told her the truth, did that mean Joe Hill was a regular visitor to the Lucky Bell?
Outside the tavern, Georgiana untied Princess and led her back towards the cover of the trees before mounting, her mind all the time on Hill. Georgiana’s knowledge of him made it difficult for her to accept his involvement in anything dishonest, yet patrons of the Lucky Bell went there to deal in little else.
The night was mild, with only an occasional breeze interrupting the stillness. In the minimal light of the half moon Georgiana anticipated little difficulty in slipping home unnoticed. As she drew level with the road, she looked up and down the length of it and began to pick her way across noiselessly.
The lamp of the approaching carriage was dim in the distance, its struggle to grow brighter not keeping pace with its speed. Georgiana knew she could not avoid being seen. Instincts baulking against flight, she drew her pistol, reining in to face the approaching curricle. Levelling the weapon she looked directly at the driver. Maxwell Lakesby was holding the reins.
8
“Stand and deliver!”
The familiar words sounded strange in Georgiana’s ears, her voice seeming to come from someone other than herself. Head held high, she met Mr Lakesby’s eyes unwaveringly.
“Well, well,” said Lakesby. “Held up two evenings in a row. However, you seem rather more competent than your compatriot of last night.”
The Crimson Cavaliers Page 11