The Body in the Boat

by MacKenzie, A. J.

  ‘Then what changed? Why betray her?’

  ‘She changed,’ said Eliza. ‘In the last fortnight, she has changed greatly. She is suspicious of everyone now, and she has begun to take unnecessary risks. Take the killings, for example. I could see why Munro had to die.’

  An image of Cecilia Munro and her baby came briefly into Mrs Chaytor’s mind. ‘But killing Cotton was foolish,’ Eliza continued. ‘He didn’t know enough to be dangerous to us; Batist said as much. He’d seen the ledger, and thought it couldn’t be connected to the bank. Killing Cotton put Fisky and Noakes at risk, and they had to go into hiding. And Batist; he was our loyal friend. He would never have betrayed us.’

  ‘He was planning to do exactly that,’ said Mrs Chaytor.

  ‘He may have claimed that,’ said Eliza, ‘but if he did, he was lying to get Hardcastle off his back. I knew Batist well, and I knew where his loyalties lay. He was part of the scheme from the beginning. It was he who told Martha about the plans for gold smuggling and urged that her gang should get involved, and arranged it so that Faversham and Munro would find it hard to trace the gold once it left the bank.’

  ‘So Batist’s loyalty was to Mrs Redcliffe, and not the bank, as he claimed,’ said Mrs Chaytor. ‘Why? What hold did she have over him?’

  ‘She’s the biggest dog in the pack,’ said Eliza.

  The wind fluttered the lantern’s flame. The shadows whispered around them. ‘You will have to explain that.’

  ‘Batist was a very clever man, but also a weak one. He needed someone strong to follow, to look up to. He was always searching for approval. In the beginning, Munro was his leader; he’d have followed Munro anywhere. But Martha spotted his weakness. She praised him and encouraged him at every turn, and won his loyalty away from Munro. He became her creature, practically her slave. That’s what I mean. He would never have betrayed Martha.’

  ‘But he led Munro to his death.’

  ‘He didn’t know they intended kill Munro,’ said Eliza. ‘Neither did I.’

  ‘Then he is not as clever as you thought he was.’ Mrs Chaytor drew breath, angrily. ‘Indeed, he was a fool. He lied to us in order to protect Mrs Redcliffe. By doing so, he sealed his own fate. She learned that he spoke to the rector and Mr Stemp, and assumed that he had betrayed her.’

  ‘I know. And that is why I am breaking my oath to her. Batist was my friend, and she killed him needlessly. There’s a code on the Marsh. You stick together, you protect your own. Martha broke that code. It’s time for her to die.’

  The wind moaned in the broken walls of Blackmanstone. The moon gleamed suddenly, then went dark. Mrs Chaytor stood for a moment, stilling her nerves. ‘And Noakes and Fisk, and the others? How many are there?’

  ‘There’s plenty of hired hands, who do as they’re told and know nothing about what goes on beneath the surface. Then there’s myself, Noakes, Fisky and two English sailors, men who had worked for her and her husband for many years. There’s four Dutchmen who have also been with her for years. They’re very protective of her, almost like a bodyguard.’

  ‘Dutchmen?’

  ‘Martha’s father was Dutch. He came over in the Fifties and married Martha’s mother in Hythe. There’s still a strong connection with Holland. I believe these men are old family retainers of some sort.’

  The last piece of the puzzle fell into place. ‘You spoke of loyalty, and sticking together. What about the others? If we take Mrs Redcliffe, they are likely to be arrested too. Some of them, Noakes for certain, will swing. What of your loyalty to them?’

  Eliza shrugged. ‘They know what Martha did is wrong; Fisky told me himself he didn’t like it. If they choose to stick with her now, they must take the consequences.’

  There was another long pause. What an extraordinarily warped morality this young woman has, Mrs Chaytor thought. And yet, by her lights, she is sticking to her principles.

  ‘Very well,’ she said finally. ‘What do you intend to do?’

  ‘As I said, you need my help to find her. I shall go back to her now. But I will send word of her movements and her plans when I can.’

  ‘Eliza, it is far too dangerous. What happened to Batist could easily happen to you.’

  ‘I know how to handle Martha. She’ll never suspect a thing. Don’t waste your breath trying to persuade me, Mrs Chaytor,’ said Eliza, and she grinned. ‘Has anyone ever persuaded me to do something I didn’t want to do?’

  Appalled still, Mrs Chaytor stood in silence among the wavering shadows. ‘I need a go-between,’ said Eliza, ‘someone who can carry messages from me to Hardcastle. Not you, you’re too conspicuous. Nor you, Bessie, I don’t want to put you in danger. I’d rather it were a man.’

  She wanted to say, no, do not do this, this is madness. She wanted to say, I beg you, come away with me now. We will ensure that you are safe. Do anything but this.

  She said, ‘Would you trust Joshua Stemp?’

  ‘Yorkshire Tom? Yes. I’ll meet him here at Blackmanstone, day after tomorrow at midnight. If I am prevented from coming, he should wait for me again the next night. I’ll give him what news I can.’

  ‘I will tell him.’

  Eliza replaced her hat, and her face was once again lost in shadow; but they could hear the smile in her voice. ‘Au revoir, Mrs Chaytor. Journey safely, and keep that pistol under your cloak close to hand. You never know what kind of ne’er-do-wells might be lurking on the Marsh on a night like this.’

  22

  The Search Begins

  A council of war was held at the rectory the following morning. Present were the rector himself; Cole the supervisor of Customs and Mr Juddery of the Excise Service, an intense young man who kept a distance between himself and his rival, Cole; Captain Haddock of the Stag, white-haired and grave; Joshua Stemp, parish constable and smuggler, who smiled amiably at Cole and Juddery; Edward Austen the Volunteer captain, who to Hardcastle’s relief had finally arrived; Mrs Chaytor, Dr Mackay and, at the last minute, Calpurnia Vane, who slipped in and sat down silently behind the doctor. Hardcastle glanced at her but said nothing.

  ‘I have called you here,’ the rector said when all were settled, ‘to help me plan and carry out the arrest of Mrs Martha Redcliffe, on charges of murder, conspiracy, treason and smuggling. Her guilt is now certain, and it is equally certain that we can force a confession from her once she is arrested. The task now is to find her.

  ‘Yesterday, an informant close to Mrs Redcliffe came forward, promising to help us. We must hope she can do so; she is not, in my experience, the most reliable of young women.’

  ‘A woman?’ said Haddock, frowning. ‘Who is this, reverend?’

  ‘Her name is Eliza Fanscombe, and she is the daughter of Mr Fanscombe, my late predecessor as justice of the peace. You won’t know of her, Mr Cole, nor you, Captain Austen. She had something of a reputation for wildness, and an unfortunate predilection for smugglers; she used to ride out over the Marsh and follow the gangs when they made their runs. She disappeared for a time after her father’s disgrace, but returned to the Marsh and somehow made the acquaintance of Mrs Redcliffe. She claims to be one of Mrs Redcliffe’s confidantes.’

  ‘I think that is probably true,’ said Mrs Chaytor. ‘Miss Fanscombe is a fantasist of a high order, but she is knowledgeable about Mrs Redcliffe’s affairs and was at the centre of the execution of the gold conspiracy. Miss Fanscombe has now decided to betray Mrs Redcliffe, to exact revenge for the killing of Mr Batist.’

  ‘Pardon me, ma’am,’ said Cole. ‘But how do you know this?’

  ‘I spoke to Miss Fanscombe myself last evening. She came to see an old friend in the village, who in turn arranged a meeting with myself.’

  ‘But why did she choose you?’

  ‘Perhaps she thinks I have an honest face,’ said Mrs Chaytor tartly.

  ‘I am not easy in my mind,’ said Haddock. ‘This girl is young, and gently born. To use her in such a fashion, to place her in such grave danger; no, ma’am, I am n
ot easy at all.’

  ‘It was her choice,’ said Mrs Chaytor. ‘I think she has ceased to be the Eliza Fanscombe we knew, and it may be best if we no longer think of her as a young woman, but as a smuggler. If I had begged her to come away with me and escape the danger, she would not have listened. Had I refused her offer, she would still have returned to Mrs Redcliffe; and probably tried to do something even more dangerous on her own. At least this way she has friends who can help her if things go wrong.’

  No one could make an argument against this, though Haddock was clearly still uncomfortable. ‘As well as Miss Fanscombe, Mrs Redcliffe has an entourage of armed and very dangerous men,’ said the rector. ‘Mr Cole in particular already knows how devious she, and they, can be.’

  Cole flushed. Juddery did not even try to hide his smile. ‘Dr Mackay,’ said the rector. ‘I asked you here today to hear your professional opinion. Mrs Redcliffe is very strongly addicted to laudanum. What sort of mind might we be dealing with?’

  ‘Opiates affect people in different ways,’ said the doctor. ‘Many who are heavily addicted become torpid, and sink into lassitude. Clearly this is not the case with Mrs Redcliffe. Others may become unstable as the drug affects the balance of the brain. Their behaviour can seem erratic to outsiders, though the addict continues to believe that their actions and thoughts are perfectly normal. In some cases they are affected by a kind of paranoea, a mental derangement that can lead the addict to feel threatened by those around them. If so, they may lash out suddenly and violently. And we know now that some of her followers, including this man Noakes, also consume opium. They may be affected as well.’

  ‘Then you gentlemen must go carefully,’ said Calpurnia. ‘If Mrs Redcliffe believes she is about to be arrested, she may order her men to attack first.’

  Her words were clear and sober, and the men in the room nodded in understanding. ‘Captain Austen,’ said the rector, ‘you and your volunteers will undertake the search for Mrs Redcliffe and her men. If we receive any information from Miss Fanscombe, it will be relayed promptly to you. However, I do not propose to rely solely on Miss Fanscombe, who, as Mrs Chaytor says, is a fantasist. You will begin, if you please, by helping me to search Mrs Redcliffe’s house and business premises in Hythe. If there are any clues to Mrs Redcliffe’s whereabouts, we must find them, and quickly. Every day that Miss Fanscombe remains in that woman’s company increases her danger.’

  Austen nodded. ‘Seems likely these fellows won’t give in without a fight,’ he said.

  ‘Your Volunteers may use lethal force to defend themselves, but if at all possible, I want these men taken alive. That applies particularly to Mrs Redcliffe.’ The rector thought about Cecilia and her child, the heartbroken Cotton family and the shattered, sorrowing father in Ashford. ‘There must be no easy escape for her,’ he said. ‘She must live to face the assize court, and the gallows.’

  Austen nodded. ‘I understand.’

  ‘Mr Cole, Mr Juddery, I desire that your two services concentrate on the flow of contraband. Batist claimed there was enough gold for another run. We know now that Batist was lying about nearly everything, but I do not want to take another chance. Keep searching for the gold. We may also expect the opium shipments to continue, and in very large quantity, so I would be grateful if you would search for these also. Some of the opium has been stored at Midley, but I expect by now it will have been moved further inland, ready for transport to London. Search every barn, every sheep pen, every lookers’ hut, every crypt and croft. Do not give up until you find what we are looking for.

  ‘Captain Haddock; we need you to track down the Hoorn, and take her if you possibly can. We know now that she is heavily armed.’

  The rector looked at Stemp for confirmation. ‘Four six-pounder cannon and a long nine-pounder,’ said the parish constable. ‘The nine is probably a bow chaser.’ He repeated what he had said to Bertrand. ‘That’s a lot of metal, sir.’

  ‘We’ve guns of our own,’ said Haddock, his face unmoving.

  ‘Good,’ said Hardcastle. ‘You have your orders, gentlemen. God speed.’

  *

  The others departed, all but Mrs Chaytor. Calpurnia and Dr Mackay walked out into the rectory garden, talking earnestly about opium. I wish they would get on with it, the rector thought.

  ‘We are taking a grave risk,’ he said quietly. ‘We are gambling that we can find Martha Redcliffe before she learns Eliza is betraying her. I hope I have done enough.’

  ‘You have done all you can do,’ said Mrs Chaytor, and she shivered. ‘I cannot bear to think what they will do to her if they learn the truth.’

  ‘She knows the risks,’ said the rector, heavily.

  ‘Does she? I suppose perhaps she does; which somehow makes it worse.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Eliza Fanscombe is only nineteen. What happened to her, Marcus? How did she end up in the company of men like Noakes and Fisk? How did she become so callous, so brutal in thought and demeanour?’

  ‘Do you think she is callous? From what you say, she sounds like the same romantic little fool who used to go riding out across the Marsh, shouting and cheering the smugglers on. She is still living in a world of dreams.’

  ‘No, Marcus, she is not. She described Munro’s death without flinching. And she spoke about breaking Martha Redcliffe like a bowl of eggs, without an ounce of emotion in her voice. You should have heard her. Martha broke that code. It’s time for her to die. Cold and hard as the ring of a bell.’

  Hardcastle said nothing.

  ‘A year ago she seemed only a silly, flirtatious girl. Now she talks about violent death as an everyday matter. I’m frightened for her, and not just for her safety. Suppose she does live through this. How will she ever come back to a normal life?’

  ‘Perhaps she does not wish to do so,’ the rector said gently.

  ‘I should have talked her out of it,’ said Mrs Chaytor. ‘I should have begged her, pleaded with her not to go back. I should have done everything in my power to take her to a place of safety. If she could get away from them for a while, come back to live in the real world, there might be some hope of restoring her.’

  She spread her hands suddenly. ‘But instead, I did nothing. I let her go.’

  ‘Why did you do so, do you think?’ asked the rector.

  She sat staring at the fire. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘For once, my dear, I am wiser than you. I do know. She is nineteen and romantic and foolish, but she has also chosen her own destiny. You are repelled by the choice she has made, and are worried sick about her fate. But in another part of your mind, you understand her; and, perhaps, there is even a far, dark corner that respects her.’

  ‘Are you saying she is like me?’ Mrs Chaytor demanded.

  ‘No one is like you. You are the most extraordinary woman I have ever encountered. But perhaps there is no one quite like Eliza Fanscombe either.’

  ‘If this is meant to comfort me, it does not. I am sorry; I do not mean to offend you. But you blame yourself still for Cotton’s death, because you put him in jeopardy. I feel the same about Eliza.’

  ‘But you did not place Eliza in jeopardy. She did that herself. I won’t tell you not to reproach yourself; that would be an insult to your intelligence. Yes, you failed to persuade her to abandon her chosen course. But her choice to continue is her responsibility.’

  ‘That is sophistry. You see your neighbour walking into a burning house; you call out a warning, but he continues into the house. Do you then have no responsibility to rush after him and pull him out of the fire?’

  ‘I believe I did once help you escape from a burning house,’ he said gravely.

  ‘Oh, don’t sit there looking superior. You haven’t won this argument, and you know it.’ But she had relaxed a little. ‘And Batist? Which version of the story do we believe? His own, that he was working to help save the bank, and became aware of what Mrs Redcliffe was doing but was too terrified to tell the truth? O
r Eliza’s, that he was working for her all along?’

  ‘I suspect the truth lies somewhere in the middle. That he was secretly helping Mrs Redcliffe from the beginning, I do not doubt. But he was also genuinely afraid of her. He went back to Ashford, I am convinced, to destroy any papers that might connect him with Mrs Redcliffe, the gold or the opium. After that, he intended to disappear from view, perhaps by escaping back to France. We will never know.’ The rector sighed. ‘If only he had told me the truth, I might have been able to save him.’

  ‘He chose instead to walk into the burning house,’ she said. ‘No; you are right. We can’t save everyone, no matter how much we would wish to. Some people are simply hell-bent on destruction, and there is nothing that can be done about it. That is what my head tells me.’

  ‘And your heart?’ he asked.

  Her blue eyes were wide as she stared into the fire. ‘I cannot help it. If anything happens to Eliza Fanscombe, I will never forgive myself.’

  *

  Orders went out across the Marsh. The Preventive men swept in cordons over the fields, searching every barn and shed and cellar, stopping wagons and carts and lifting the covers to examine the contents. They met no opposition save for volleys of abuse from the locals, who hated the Preventives with a bitterness that was bred in the bone; neither did they find any trace of gold or opium. The crypt at Midley, oozing with water, was empty, guarded only by a lone mouldering skeleton. The other ruined churches on the Marsh were similarly bare.

  Edward Austen’s men walked quietly into Hythe, with cloaks over their red uniform coats and their muskets covered with blankets so as not to attract attention. Reaching Mrs Redcliffe’s house on the hill above the church, they surrounded the building and moved inside, followed by the rector. All the inhabitants and servants had gone, leaving behind only an elderly caretaker and his wife; the furniture was covered in dust sheets, and everything of value had been removed. The lady of the house had left nothing behind that would hint at her plans, or her present whereabouts.