What was uttered in The Talbot was spoken very carefully indeed. There was no one who wanted a thrashing from Mr Vyne nor a beating from Charlie Sheridan. But everyone was sure one or the other of the Strettons had something to do with it!
Upwych was once more split into factions, which had never really disappeared since the recent unfortunate matter of the sabotage of Annesley brine pipes.
Besides, not one of the workers wanted to lose his nor her job and a careless word anywhere was dangerous. Both Strettons and Annesleys held the workers’ fate in their hands. With the damage to Annesley Works, Strettons were their only hope and there were already jobs starting on the new bore hole on Stretton land.
Yet there wasn’t a man, woman nor child in Upwych who hadn’t heard the story of the young mistress’s kindness towards Sally Shrike on her first visit to the works. Nor one who didn’t hope she’d be found safe and become the saviour of their jobs and the reviver of Annesley fortunes.
Yet what would happen if the young mistress was never found? It was too horrible to think of. However, whispered gossip was rife and unfounded; could it be possible that Miss Liddy, faced with insurmountable problems had had enough of country life and had decided to run off back to London? Or was she really lying dead or drowned somewhere - a fact which was supported by the hysterical outburst from The Journal’s eager editorial. The fact that her mare had returned was evidence enough to suggest a terrible accident. But no body had been recovered from the river nor canal. Nor found? Which could only mean Miss Liddy had either been spirited away or decided to take off voluntarily.
Capricious she might be, was the general opinion, but not so unfeeling to leave her dear aunt grieving!
Indeed, Annesley itself couldn’t bear a hint of any tragedy and it was whispered Miss Liddy’s maid, Sarah, had had complete hysterics in the kitchen and had been carried off to her bedroom by Blanchard, the only Annesley servant trying to hold on to common sense.
Yet the truth was, Blanchard had been more afraid she’d disturb Miss Elizabeth who had been prescribed a sedative draught daily since Miss Liddy’s disappearance.
He’d actually dropped the hysterical maid on the bed and left her in the care of the housekeeper, Wilson.
All he wished was that he’d been with Miss Annesley when she’d ridden off. He’d seen that look in her eyes before but, being just a servant, could do nothing about it.
But, of one thing he was sure, she’d had a bone to pick with the Strettons. Which one he didn’t know, but he suspected it was something to do with Mr Caleb.
And Blanchard was well aware of town gossip. It was said little Jemmy Yarwood had been one of the last to see Miss Liddy. The lad had been skulking about two miles from Raven’s Mill in the hope of lifting some bream from the Salwarpe when he’d seen the young mistress on Sophie - or so he said. But he was very young and his word couldn’t be trusted.
Besides the Yarwoods were likely to say anything which might bring in a few pence, given their poverty-stricken circumstances. Jemmy had been questioned by the bailiff and had been so frightened he’d burst into tears, especially when the constable was mentioned.
Then Miss Elizabeth had sent for him and he’d shuffled into her bedroom rightly overawed and spun out another cock n’ bull story about seeing both Mr Caleb and Mr Charlie in the vicinity about the same time.
His great, round eyes staring from his pale, thin face showed he was evidently given to fancies. Even Miss Elizabeth, who could be exceedingly frightening most times, would have failed to wrest the truth from him, the lad was in such a state.
Nevertheless, the matter was now in the law’s hands. Miss Liddy had been missing since Saturday and both Mr Caleb and his idle half-brother were under suspicion. The constables had made extensive house-to-house inquiries too, which had been related in turn to every lady who visited the butcher’s or the sweet shop or the milliner’s. Investigations had been instigated and, it was rumoured even Raven’s Mill was to be searched.
And everyone seemed to have an opinion as to who might have seen Miss Liddy Annesley last. There had even been bets taken in secret. Charlie boy or Caleb? Or even Sammy Shrike?
As for sober Blanchard - he was afraid of Mr Caleb’s angry moods but he respected him too. If it was to be either one of that Stretton brood - and if he could have afforded it out of his wages, he’d have put his money on good-for-nothing Charlie. Blanchard would have wagered his year’s wages that Caleb Vyne would never hurt Miss Liddy!
*
Caleb could set his mind to nothing. Feeling vulnerable was quite out of his experience. He was, he believed, impervious to hurt given the taunts and scorn with which he’d been treated since boyhood.
Caring about such was non-existent. But this was too much to handle. Lydia Annesley was missing and he was a main suspect.
His interview with the constables had been particularly humiliating. As a master, he expected obedience and, during the questioning, he’d been constrained to answer correctly or face the rebuke of the law.
No Englishman was above it. This he knew. But not only this. He was, for the first time in his life, truly afraid, not of his questioners but in case someone had harmed her. Not for Caleb, the anguished threats of Elizabeth Annesley, but a fierce, dark anger which consumed him totally.
Whoever had stolen Liddy away would pay for it. He blamed himself for leaving her to return alone to Upwych. It was one of the worst things he had done!
And she had seen Sally Shrike! As soon as the news broke that Miss Lydia’s mare had returned home riderless, he had ridden over to Sally’s and been told secretly about her meeting with her mistress.
And Sally had been the last to see her. He and the female salter had gone over the interview several times, with Sally swearing that when Miss Liddy left she was happy and relieved.
How shocking it was to think she’d not returned home! It was a complete mystery to Caleb. He had told Sally not to breathe a word of her visit and the girl had agreed gladly.
Later, if she was interviewed then the truth must be told. Caleb had some qualms about hiding anything from the constables but, at least, he knew Sally had nothing to do with Lydia’s disappearance.
Not only he but also the police had questioned the men who worked on the coal barges and in the yard. The latter could have no suspicion Miss Annesley had ridden past there, but Caleb knew it was on her way home.
He was coming to the conclusion that she had been abducted! By whom? And how? She would have put up a fight, he knew that.
A cold feeling came over him when he thought she might be lying murdered somewhere. Upwych had a reputation for desperate acts and could Miss Liddy be the victim of another?
Then he thought of Charlie and suspected him. But his half-brother seemed as cut up as he was. Caleb had told him that if he had harmed Miss Annesley, he would break his neck - and Charlie knew he meant it!
In fact, added to such terrible feelings of exacting revenge was the painful knowledge he had come under suspicion. He had to be. Wasn’t he a Stretton and her sworn enemy in the eyes of the public? By them, he could only be judged as guilty. And he could tell nothing that had passed between him and Lydia.
As Caleb lay on his bed, dressed only in his breeches, his head was aching. He had no alibi. It had been a great blow when the knowledge broke about Jemmy Yarwood.
In fact, he had quite forgotten seeing the boy. Early on Saturday, Caleb had reined in his horse quite near to where the little rascal was fishing.
If he had been anyone but a child, Caleb would have sent him off from the Stretton stretch of the river with a box on the ear. But Caleb liked children, however grubby and deprived.
Each reminded him how he’d once been. He liked Jemmy Yarwood’s toddling desperation and his courage at five or six to confront the foaming river with a hook like a barge pole.
He had been lucky not to have fallen in and drowned. That was a common enough occurrence for the salters’ children, who were wa
rned constantly but who were hungry enough to venture a fish for breakfast.
He’d given Jemmy a hand and landed four flat wriggling bodies into the boy’s bag.
The child had been wild with joy, even ready to kiss his boots! But Caleb’s embarrassment had been hidden by stern warnings, “Get off home now, Jemmy Yarwood, and if I catch you here on Stretton water again, I’ll take my belt to you.” The boy had shrunk back then, a desperate look on his face, small, thin hands clinging on to the precious catch.
“And don’t say who gave you the fish!” Caleb had added. It wouldn’t do for anyone to know he was aiding and abetting a poacher. But it did him good just to see the boy’s expression.
It was natural enough that, under such pressure, Jemmy had told the constable he’d only seen Caleb in the vicinity. He could never have told the child to lie for him.
Caleb could hardly seek Jemmy out and ask the lad if he had heard what had passed between him and Lydia Annesley... If he had and imparted the same, then the constables would have had a real suspect.
But, as for Jemmy’s insistence on seeing Charlie too, that was different. Caleb himself had seen not seen his half-brother skulking, for which he was very glad on his own account, hating his slyness as he did.
But not on Lydia’s. If Charlie had been watching them together then - Caleb bit his lip. He knew anything was possible, given Sheridan’s tastes.
Caleb swung his legs off the bed and started to pull on his boots. His brain felt near bursting. If Charlie had touched her, he’d kill him. But where could she be?
Perhaps she’d taken fright and gone off to London after all? Had enough of the miseries of Upwych? But then he was remembering that determined chin and clear look; those green eyes appraising his and blazing into accusation! No, not Miss Annesley! She was far too proud to go skulking off like that. If she was prepared to do so, she would have set her plans in the open!
He could see how she’d blamed him for the cutting of the Annesley pipes. She’d made that clear enough. That she had blamed him instead of Charlie was more upsetting. He could never understand why women could see no further than a handsome face. Charlie was an out-and-out rascal and Miss Annesley had been just as susceptible as Sally Shrike. That’s why Caleb had told her the truth and sent her to the salter.
But there was something else behind it too. He needed her good opinion. And, although his experience with women of his own class was little, he was sure she was moved by the things he’d said. He cursed himself for holding her hand in case she despised him.
But he’d felt her hand tremble under his! Had he frightened her? She’d called him boorish!
Caleb went over and over their meeting again, looking for clues as to why Lydia could be missing.
Then he shook his head and swore out loud! Life had dealt him a poor hand of cards and, once again, Charlie was holding trumps. But in this case, the game was going to be finding the lady!
He glanced briefly at his watch. He’d be late for the appointment. All of him ached to know what Sam Shrike had to say. He had always trusted his friend and the salter would never have asked for a secret appointment if the news had not been important.
Caleb sensed it must be about Lydia. Sam had sent one of his younger brothers with the message that Mr Caleb should come to Sam at the church after bell-ringing. Sam’s brawny arms were assets to the vicar of Dodderhill and he had an ear for rhythm.
Besides, Caleb was sure there would be no constables combing the churchyard, which was high and inaccessible. No one took the steep path gratefully.
However, the reward for reaching the top was a view of Upwych stretching its growing way to all points of the compass, with the outstanding marks on the landscape being the gracious hotel, the mixture of houses, the Covercroft chimneys and, always, the ribbon gleam of the Salwarpe on its slow way to join the rushing Severn.
Caleb fastened his cloak about the neck and drew a brush through thick tangled curls. A sombre reflection stared back at him from the mirror. If his salters had seen him that day they would have kept away. His expression was stern and unrelenting! That was exactly how he felt when he considered that rapscallion, Charlie, who Fate had destined to be his half-brother!
Once, he’d thought him just young and heedless. Now Caleb knew that he was ruthless and very dangerous.
Caleb left his horse tethered outside the lych gate. On his ride to the foot of the hill, there had seemed nothing but bells in his ears. It was Sunday, of course, and Caleb hadn’t graced Divine Service with his presence. The fact would have been noticed and Caleb was wary about meeting the vicar.
He knew there had been prayers that morning for Miss Lydia’s safety and the hypocritical Sheridans had accompanied his mother to church. He disdained the sham of their worship. He preferred the love of natural things but, in his heart, he was praying for Liddy too.
Caleb stood quietly in the dusk, his body half-obscured by a great gravestone, which towered towards Heaven. Was it a bad omen to meet in the churchyard? He hoped with all his might that he would be attending no funeral soon. The thought drove him mad!
There was excited chatter as the bell ringers came out, dressed in their best. At least, on Sunday, they were accorded some little rest. He could see the spare frame of Sam come out into the porch, the lantern light glinting on his fair hair.
Beside him was the vicar, a hawk-nosed man carrying too much weight for his own good. Caleb watched Sam make obeisance, then don his cap. The vicar went back inside and Caleb heard him drawing the great bolts of the church door.
Sam stood uncertainly for a moment, looking round. A small group of salters were lingering to wait for him but he was calling:
“Go on without me. I’ve a might of things to do.”
“And what would those be?” giggled one of their Stretton girls. “Come down with us.”
“Get you off home, Daisy,” shouted Sam, “or I won’t be answerable.” Doubled up with laughter, the girls ran off, followed by the rest of the town’s ringers. When they were safely out of hearing, Caleb stepped out.
“Is it you, Mr Vyne?” said Sam hoarsely.
“Who else? I got your message. What’s up?”
“Come,” said Sam, looking all round. “Come over here.” They made for the massive hollow trunk of a tree which years ago had been struck by lightning. In its protection, Caleb listened.
“How do you know this, Sam?” asked Caleb, the only light in his dark eyes reflected by the moon.
“Ain’t I one of your workers, Mr Vyne? And haven’t I sworn to keep an eye on Mr Sheridan’s tricks after what he done to my sister?”
“I’m sorry, Sam, and, believe me, I can’t doubt you. God knows I wish I could. Have you told the constable this?”
“I’ve not although I have a murdering wish to do so! I wished to speak to you first, master.”
“Don’t call me master, Sam. I may be but I’m your good friend as well. So, you saw Miss Liddy and Charlie?” Sam nodded, his face a serious mask, chapped and worn from years of crusted salt.
“Not together, sir, but he was riding some distance after her past the coal yard. I had no idea she’d been to see Sally. I was bringing back the bag with the provisions and mother and the nippers were lagging behind.
“She didn’t look in no trouble. She’s a fine rider and at first --” Sam hesitated, “-- I thought it be you following her, sir. For I have seen you two together.”
“And have you said that?” Caleb’s face flushed at the thought of what had passed between him and Liddy. If that was told, then those who judged him guilty, would have had grounds for thinking so! But the thought that Charlie had been following behind, was monstrous!
“I have not and, if I did, it would carry no weight. Sir, none of us thinks you would harm Miss Liddy!” Sam put a long, thin hand on Caleb’s arm. Caleb nodded gratefully.
“Thanks, Sam, I’m touched at your trust. And you are right. In no way would I harm Miss Lydia if she were the most
dangerous Annesley in the world!”
“But - what of Master Sheridan? Could he have done so?” Sam’s face twisted into an ugly grimace. “Both you and I know, sir, where his pleasures lie!”
“Aye, we do, but he would be mad to touch her. And - she has never encouraged him.” Caleb said it firmly. He breathed in deeply and was very glad when Sam answered:
“Nor will she ever care for him, Mr Vyne. She’s a real lady. Look what she done for our Sally!” The men stood quietly. Then Caleb drove an angry fist against his other hand.
“God, Sam, what will we do if she has really disappeared? Could that wild fool have cajoled her into belief of any of his lies? I swear that if he has, I will break his neck with these very hands.” Caleb ground his fists, one against the other as if he had Charlie between them.
Lydia had gone to Sally and heard her corroborate Caleb’s words. Perhaps Charlie had waylaid her and she, having charged him with his crimes, had been cajoled into thinking Caleb and Sally were lying? And then what happened? Had she run off?
He could hardly believe that might be so but he knew Charlie’s power over young women. He was thinking about the day he’d first seen Miss Annesley framed in the window of the train - and how she’d looked at Charlie!
He dispelled the memory immediately, not questioning why it had come to his mind; jealousy was something Caleb did not yet understand about himself.
He dropped his fists. It was no good working himself up now. He’d take another crack at Charlie later! Caleb looked Sam straight in the eyes.
“You and I must find Miss Liddy, Sam, whatever else we do.” Then he glanced up at the church tower and breathed a silent prayer.
“Yes, sir, we will. I’ve made up my mind anyway.”
“What to, Sam?”
“To speak to Master Sheridan about my sister’s position, sir!”
“Now, Sam, do not. You’ll only get into another fight and what good will that do her or your mother? It will break their hearts. And if you are charged then you could find yourself before the Bench. Who’ll get the bread then? No, man, leave it to me. He’ll tell me the truth. By God, he will!”
The Price of Beauty Page 15