Legitimate Lies

by Cosgrove, Julie B;

  “You’re awfully quiet. Story upset you, huh?”

  I wiped my mouth and set down my cup. “Yes.”

  He rocked back. “I’m sort of surprised considering what you do. Though I didn’t realize you were from America.” He stood up and stoked the fire. “Figured your type witnessed it all the time.”

  “My type?”

  He kept his eyes to the smoldering flames. “I know the fancy men you girlies lure into that pub for a few jollies.” He turned to me and pointed the stick in my face. “You’re running from your ponce, ain’t ya? But what I can’t figure out is how you ended up in the tunnel. The young manor lord get too rough for ya?”

  “Ponce? What’s a ponce?”

  He reared back and cackled. “Don’t you play innocent with me.” He sat on his haunches in front of me. “Was a time I tried to scrounge up the quid to have a bit of the likes of you meself. Suppose you wouldn’t want to give me some now out of gratitude?” He licked his lips. “I mean, seeing I’ve hid you and all, huh?”

  I bolted to a straight stance. “What? Get away from me.” I shook my head as my feet backed from the fire.

  The man rose and held his hands out. “Whoa. No sense getting your dander up. I was just askin’. Ain’t never forced meself on any gal.” He lowered his head. “Guess an erk like me ain’t fancy enough for ya. Not one of those toffs with their new cars and money at the manor house, right? Figures.”

  The next words came out in a raspy croak. “Just who do you think I am?”

  He eyed me for a split second, and then snickered as his finger waggled. “Go on with ya. You’re one of those high-class hookers who live above the Spotted Snail, of course. I’ve seen you there many a time.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  My knees wobbled. “What? No, I’m not a, a... I’m, I’m…”

  I thought about all my identities. Which do I choose? The truth, a voice inside me whispered.

  “Jen. I am here to be the new tour guide at the American Museum…in Bath.” My words flowed off my tongue faster. “Then these men kidnapped me. They trapped me in the manor house. But, I found the tunnel, and...”

  The old man stepped forward. I stepped back. Tears welled the corners of my eyes.

  “Well, I’ll be. You be the spittin’ image of…well, I didn’t learn her name.” He scratched his head. “Never ye mind. An old man’s eyes play tricks at times.” He motioned with his hand. “Sit back down. I ain’t gonna hurt ya or nothin’.”

  The old man returned to his log. The shimmer of the smoking flames distorted his face in long shadows. I skirted the fire pit and sat on the ground opposite of him, the blanket wrapped under me. For a moment, an uncomfortable silence draped between us. So I not only look like Andrew’s dead sister, but a prostitute in the village? This wasn’t making any sense. Unless…

  “Who am I the spitting image of again, Mr, uh? What’s your name?” I recalled he’d been reluctant to tell me.

  He cackled. “Well, seein’ ya told me yours, it’s only fair I give ya mine. They call me Spud, now don’t they?”

  “Spud?”

  He sat up a bit straighter. “From me Army days. Got in trouble so much with Her Majesty’s, I spent most of my time cleaning and scraping ’em spuds.”

  I smiled. “Oh, I get it. Spud.”

  The old man sat more erect. I swear his eyes twinkled with defiant pride. What a colorful life he must had led. But for now, I wanted current information. “You say I look like some girl you’ve seen at the, uh, what was the name of the pub again?”

  “Spotted Snail. At the edge of town.” He spat into the fire. “Decent enough on the front, but in the back rooms, well I’ve been told there is all sorts of nasties goin’ on, now isn’t there?”

  My gaze shifted to the campfire. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “So ye say. Like I said, never had the pleasure to meet her, but…well, a man can dream can’t he?” His eyes darted to the ground and a flush came to his sallow cheeks, which barely peeked from his scraggly beard. Poor hunched-over little lonely soul.

  I stood up and walked over to his side. “Spud. This is not how I normally look. They cut and dyed my hair. And see?” I bent over to pop a contact lens into my cupped hand. It glistened in the moonlight. “They made me change my eye color, too.” I popped out the other and tossed them both into the fire. It hissed and swallowed them in a small burst of flame. “They tried to keep me in the manor, but I found the tunnels.”

  Spud twisted to observe my face better in the firelight. “Well, I be… Now they’re hazel…and blue, aren’t they?” He let out a humph. “Why would they do this?”

  I crouched down onto my knees and shrugged. “I’m trying to find out. But something tells me it is to resemble this girl you told me about.” I grabbed his arm. “Spud, help me. I’m scared.”

  “Now, Missy. Don’t ya fret. You go over there and get some nods. I’ll stay here and keep watch.” His calloused hand covered mine with a soft pat.

  “Thanks, Spud.” My voice quivered.

  He bobbed his head. “Your name is Jen, you say? So what color is your normal hair?”

  “Auburn.”

  “Ah. Makes sense, then.”

  “What?”

  He shrugged. “Never mind. We’ll talk again in the morning.”

  I rose, wrapped the blanket tightly around my torso, and shuffled off to the tent. When I got there I pivoted to catch his attention. “Spud, you’re in my prayers tonight.”

  He lifted his tin cup to me. “Don’t think I’ve been in anyone’s before.” He sniffed and returned his gaze to the fire.

  * * *

  I’d just drifted to sleep when something shook my shoulder.

  “Missy. Jen. Get up.”

  I groaned and squinted to see Spud hover over me. “What?”

  “Go, hide in the bushes yonder. They’s be searchin’ for ya, lass.” He shoved me in the back. “Up. Go.”

  I scrambled to my feet and dashed out of the tent. The sound of scrunched leaves and men’s voices assaulted my senses like a splash of ice water.

  “Over there. In them thickets.” Spud pushed me towards some brambles and ferns. I crawled and rolled under them as several pairs of shoes stomped into the campsite. My pulse thumped in my ears as I tried to slow my breathing and flattened on my belly.

  Dogs panted and whined as they sniffed the area. I willed every muscle to be still.

  Something from Scripture about being hidden by God’s protection filtered through to my thoughts. I prayed for it to happen now.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Spud stood by his tent. “Who are ya and whatcha got with me?”

  Robert’s voice sounded harsh. “Shut up, old man.” A smack echoed through the forest.

  Spud groaned. “What ya do that fer?”

  “For squatting on my land, you bugger.” Andrew’s voice.

  “Wait, he can help us.” Robert’s again. “You want to earn some money for more booze?”

  “I ain’t no lag. I was in Her Majesty’s, I’ll have ya know. In Kuwait.”

  The dogs began to whine again and sniff closer to me. I held my breath and shut my eyes.

  Feet shuffled closer. Dear God, please, no.

  “You ain’t got no reason to treat me this way.”

  I opened one eye. The back of Spud’s legs blocked my view. Bless him. He blocked their advance in my direction. “And call off your mutts, will ya? I’ve got me rations stashed in the bushes to keep ’em from being pilfered.”

  “All right, all right. Back off, dogs. Back.” The animals halted at foreman Malcolm’s command. One gave a slight yip as his neck tightened and stretched from the leash. With a jerk, its head turned away from me. The other dog followed.

  I let out a silent breath. The ground’s coldness seeped through my clothes, but I dared not move. One rustle would reveal my hiding place.

  Spud’s feet moved away, which gave me more of a view. Robert stood straddle-legged and
arms folded. Andrew kept clasping his hand in the other and shifting his weight. The foreman held the dogs on a short lead as they sat in obedience. But one peered in my direction and whimpered.

  “Old man, we are looking for a woman. She has escaped the manor.”

  Spud chuckled. “Has she now? If it was from you, I don’t blame her.”

  “Why you…” Andrew dashed forward, his hand raised.

  Robert grabbed it. “I’m in charge. I’ll ask the questions.” He shoved Andrew towards the fire pit. “Now shut up.”

  Spud eyed Robert with an up-tilted chin. “And who you be, treating the young lord like that?”

  Andrew spun on his heels. “So you know who I am, eh? Then you know this is my land.” He spread his arms out, then bent down and shoved a finger to the old man’s nose. “If you aren’t off in the morning, I’ll call the constable.”

  “Andrew.” Robert’s voice sounded stern. He cleared his throat and addressed Spud. “This young woman is, well, not stable. We are afraid she’ll harm herself, or fall into the wrong hands, understand?” His words dripped with sweetness. It made my skin crawl.

  Spud shouldered himself. “Aye. Not all the men in these woods are gentlemanly now, are they?”

  I stifled a laugh. Something told me he talked about Andrew and Robert. My vagrant protector had spunk.

  “Have you seen her?”

  Spud shuffled to the fire and stoked it. “And if I have?”

  Robert took a few steps towards him. “Tell us where she is and we’ll pay you enough for a nice hotel room and a bath for two days.”

  Spud cackled. It echoed through the trees. “And why would I be trustin’ ya? I don’t know you.”

  Robert leaned in and whispered in the old man’s ear. His hand pressed on Spud’s shoulder hard enough for him to dip it towards the fire.

  “Oh, well, well. That makes a difference now, don’t it? Yes, I saw her.”

  I clenched my fists. Please, no, Spud. Don’t tell them.

  “Thought she was a ghost or a ghoulie. Out there near the gazebo. Wandering in a nightgown and barefoot in this chill. Moonlight showed her figure real nice like. For a moment I worried I’d lost the plot, now didn’t I?”

  Spud tapped his temple. A smile crept across his face. It did mine, too. Good job. They’d be searching for me in a nightie.

  Robert’s shoes shuffled the leaves. “When?”

  Spud cocked his head. “I told ya. When the moon came up. Quite some time ago.”

  Andrew said, “Let’s go. He doesn’t know anything. Old, wandering jerk.” He spat and traipsed off.

  Robert reached in his pocket and tossed some folded papers on the ground. “Here’s five tenners. If you spot her again, there will be more. Come to the manor. Ask for me. Name’s Mr. Manning.”

  “Only if ya keep them dogs away.”

  Andrew swiveled back, his scowl illuminated in the firelight. “You have ’til noon to get off my land.”

  Robert jerked him around. “No. He is of more use to us if he stays. He can be our eyes and ears. Right, old man?”

  Spud cackled again. “As long as there is quid in ya pocket.”

  Robert again. “Then we understand each other. Let’s go.”

  I listened until the footsteps and dog panting faded before I slithered out. “How can I thank you?”

  Spud’s eyes glimmered through the embers. “I should be thankin’ you.” He kissed the money and slipped it in his pant pocket. “It seems men like to pay to find out about you.”

  “What?”

  He waved me off. “Never ye mind. Now, go and get ya sleep while they chase after ghosts.”

  I leaned in and gave him a peck on his scraggly cheek. In the light of the fire, I noticed his face blush once again.

  * * *

  At daybreak, I roused from a fitful sleep on the hard ground. I found Spud curled into a ball, back to the campfire, snoring. The smoldering embers softly glowed. I raised my hands over them and spread my fingers. My stomach rumbled loud enough to startle me.

  Spud snorted and rose up. “Was that you or a ruttin’ buck grunting?”

  My cheeks grew warm. “Me, I’m afraid. I didn’t really have dinner.”

  He grumbled and stood up as several bones creaked. “Well. Let’s boil some water for some tea and heat up some bickies. Then we’ll chat.”

  I had no idea what bickies were, but any food sounded great. “What can I do?”

  He eyed me. “Sit there and stay hushed. Voices carry in these woods. With daylight comin’ on, they may be searchin’ again.”

  I placed my hand over my belly. “I’ll try.”

  Spud snickered.

  Over hot English tea and bickies—sort of like small, sweet pancakes— we chatted in hushed tones. In the daylight I studied his face fully. He had a rough exterior, but soft eyes swimming in wisdom. Probably from street sense and hard-knocks, but I found trust there as well. I decided to tell him everything, in a brief synopsis.

  Spud nodded, grunted and spat into the fire every now and then, but he absorbed it all and never questioned my story. At the end he reared back. “Well, Jen. That’s quite a tale. You think this Niamh didn’t die after all?”

  I wagged my head. “Maybe. It makes sense.”

  “Right. This Robert chap, your husband? Maybe he’s gotten her into the business the way he has coerced so many other girls, eh? Could be her at the Spotted Snail.”

  “Yes. He has a persuasive power about him, evil as it is.” I shrugged. “But it only brings out more questions. I still don’t know why they’ve made me similar to her.”

  He cocked his head. “Maybe simply to fool the old grandmother, like ya overheard. Word is she’s a bit bonkers.” He tapped his forehead. “Old age.”

  As if he’s a spring chicken. I stifled a grin. “And they want her to think I am her dead granddaughter simply to drive her over the edge? Seems extremely cruel.”

  “Aye.” He scratched his chin with a twig. “Maybe someone saw this Niamh in the village and told a servant, who informed the old woman. So they had to think fast and change your looks up to masquerade as her so grandmamma wouldn’t suspect her dear sweet granddaughter was alive and hookin’.” He raised his cup as he scanned me from head to foot. “You’re both easy on the eyes. I’d bet she’s bringing them quite a few quid.” He coughed. “No offense.”

  “None taken.” I cast my eyes to the ground and hoped he didn’t notice my blush. After a few seconds, I raised them to his face again. “But they never let the baroness really detect me. Only glimpses.”

  He leaned in. “Of course. If ye spoke with that Texas tongue of yours she’d know you weren’t her granddaughter, now wouldn’t she?”

  As they say, the light in my brain came on with a click. “So they let her question herself, and tell her she’s going mad?”

  Spud crossed his legs in front of him. “Town gossip is the old doc’s at their beck and call. He’s probably been slippin’ her something to make her crackers crumble.” Spud tapped his left temple.

  I nodded. “I’ve met him. Trust me, you are not far off.”

  “From talk in town, she has the title to the manor in holding until Andrew turns thirty, right?”

  I snapped my fingers. “But if she is declared incompetent?”

  Spud bobbed his head back and forth.

  It made sense. But why would Robert become involved, and why did he care about Andrew’s desire to get the family land? Unless, they really were going to turn it into a high-class brothel to facilitate the smuggling of girls from Eastern Europe to England and, perhaps, to the U.S.A. But was the real Niamh in on this scheme, or an innocent victim like me? I had to find out. I had to locate her and ask her.

  “Spud, take me to the Spotted Snail.”

  He jolted to his feet. “Are ya daft, girlie? That’ll be walking into the lion’s den.”

  I walked to the tent to fold the blanket. “Daniel did it, and God protected him.”

&nb
sp; “Maybe we need to find this Daniel then.”

  I laughed, but cupped my mouth after it echoed through the forest. In the distance, a dog barked rapidly.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  “Ssshh.” Spud put a gnarled finger to his lips. He motioned with his head. “This way.”

  For a good twenty minutes or so we wandered through the woods on some path plotted in Spud’s brain. I had to trust his instincts. My internal compass had crashed hours ago. The thick leaves above us filtered the rays, making it hard to determine the sun’s direction. I glanced at tree barks for moss, but didn’t recall if it should grow on the on north side or the west. So much for my scout training all those years ago.

  At last we came to a clearing. An English town stretched below. Brick and white stoned chimneys poked above thatched or shingled rooftops. A river meandered around the edge, half-shaded by trees. “Is that the Avon?” Maybe I’d find Glenda.

  “Nah. It be the River Bliss.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You’re kidding, right?”

  He chuckled. “Nah, ’tis true. This be Trowbridge. A thriving market community.” He nudged me in the side. “For almost anything, though most of the tourists aren’t aware, now are they? Come for the Dickens’ Christmas and the typical English gardens, they do.”

  Spud strolled on ahead down the glen and I padded after him, two pair of his heavy soaks sliding down my heels. He stopped as I picked leaves out of them. “First order of business is to find ya a pair of shoes.”

  I mimicked turning out my pockets. “With what?”

  He patted his with a wink. “Your husband has already provided the funds, me dear.”

  “Ahh.” I stopped and perched on a stump. “Wait, Spud. Won’t they be searching in the village for me? I mean this is the closest town to the manor house, right?”

  Spud propped a foot onto the log. He leaned into me. “You have a set o’ brains in ya, don’t you?”

  I tilted my head and shrugged.

  “No, actually we’s be quite on the other side of the hills. The manor staff mostly go into Fromme for their shopping. Much larger. The toffs prefer the culture spots in Bath, you know. All the theatres, fancy restaurants and museums.” He cocked his pinkie.