Ben realized he needed to put the old man at ease and hoped if he saw no threat he might be more willing to talk. Not only was the old man visibly suspicious but Ben felt he could see fear in the old man’s eyes.
“We only want to ask a few questions that might help a lady know more about her relatives. May we ask you a few questions?”
“I don’ see how anything I say could help ‘e,” rasped the old man his face squinted.
“We have been told that about twenty years ago you worked for the late Sir Hugh Anselan.”
Sallison shook his old gray head and mumbled what sounded like a denial. Only with pressure from Ben did he finally admit that he had worked on the Anselan estate. While Ben was probing the old man, Amy wondered if she might get any useful information out of the ragged young woman with the baby.
She went to the young woman, who was about Amy’s age, and asked her about her baby. At first, Amy engaged in casual talk hoping to put her at ease. When the young woman went inside the hovel Amy shivered as she boldly followed her not knowing what she would encounter in such a place. Amy many times had been in the homes of the poor but the poor of Stokely-on-Arne kept their cottages in good condition despite their humble estate. This hovel looked uncared for. Once inside, she was relieved to see that it was not crawling with vermin as she had feared.
When they took leave of Joseph Sallison and his daughter and granddaughter, the coach headed towards Bath. They were through with Bristol, at least for the time being. Mrs. Parkhurst had crushed herself against the side of the coach in seeming fear that Amy, who was sitting next to her, was contaminated from her visit inside the Sallison’s hovel. Amy could not entirely blame her.
“Well, Ben, what did you find out?”
“For one thing, the old man hates to talk, but I did get some cooperation from him.”
“And how did you accomplish that?”
“I told him I respected that his time was valuable and that I was willing to pay him a golden guinea if he would answer my questions. And I promised him it was for our ears only.”
Mrs. Parkhurst, who appeared to be asleep now, made a noise that sounded like hmmph.
“A golden guinea? He probably didn’t earn five shillings all last year, if that much. You know he will just buy rum with the money, and get drunk?” said Amy teasing.”
“I don’t doubt it, and I don’t care. I wanted him to talk. And I’m doing it for you Lady Amaryllis.”
“Yes, I am truly grateful. Did you find out anything of use?”
“Not as much as I would have liked and I’m not sure if I can believe everything he told me, but it is something to go on. Amy, that old man is scared of something, if not downright terrified. It just doesn’t make sense. Sir Hugh has been dead for twenty years, and to my knowledge there are no Anselans anywhere near Bristol. What could he fear?”
“Could it be the same thing I have to fear?”
Ben looked at her and then shook his head in puzzlement.
“Sallison worked for Sir Hugh and also for Sir Hugh’s son Ishmael after the old shipowner died. I felt he was uncomfortable in some way about Sir Hugh’s death. But here is where it gets really interesting. He said he was following the coach with the Anselan estate’s wagon that day as they were headed back to Bristol. Some of the luggage which they couldn’t get on the coach was in the wagon. As they were traveling on the road at a place where it runs alongside the River Avon and were nearing the bridge over the river, the horses bolted. Then the coach ended up in the river just before the river reached the bridge. He thinks the coach fell into the Avon because the road was so muddy and in bad condition because of recent heavy rains.”
“Did he say why the horses bolted?”
“He said he didn’t know, Amy. He was alone in the wagon and it was some distance behind the coach, and in the torrential rain he was getting further and further behind. He could see the horses bolt and he saw the accident, but with difficulty because of the distance and the blinding rain.”
Ben looked Amy in the eyes.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t find out more. And I’m not even sure about what he told me. He was very uncomfortable. I felt as if he was unsure if he was telling me something he shouldn’t. He may have wanted to appear as if he was earning his guinea, but what can I believe?”
“Maybe he was telling the truth and just nervous, but even if only some of it is true, we know more than we knew when we set out from Bath this morning.”
Mrs. Parkhurst was now loudly snoring.
“That’s true. How did it go with you? I saw you go into that nasty hovel. I know you were engaging the girl in small talk to keep her away so I could probe the old man, but she didn’t happen to mention anything useful, did she. You can never tell what she might have picked up over the years, and even if the information is not accurate, although I hope it turns out to be, at least now they have a guinea and that can do a great deal to improve their lives. I’m not as cynical as you are. I don’t think he will spend it on booze.”
“It is nice to know you are not as cynical as I am, but it was his granddaughter—you did know that the young woman is his granddaughter not his daughter—who told me that every ha’penny he comes across, he will spend it on rum.”
“Oh,” said Ben sheepishly, “that is most unfortunate.”
“Not entirely,” said Amy, “at least, not for us. You see, when he is sober his lips are tighter than a clam, but when he is drunk he evidently rambles on for ours revealing a great deal. He doesn’t seem to remember when he sobers up, but he has sternly warned her not to reveal anything she might learn from his past. He has implied that it would be very dangerous if she did.”
“That theme of danger again,” mused Ben. “What did you find out?”
“She clearly was cautious about what she said to me, but I did learn some things. For one thing he lied to you, and to the jury if he told them what he told you. He did not take the wagon to town. Or anyway, his granddaughter says he says he didn’t. When the coach with the captain and the lawyer and the others was ready to leave, the wagon was supposed to accompany them carrying their trunks, but he was off arguing with his daughter, the girl’s mother. She accused Sir Hugh Anselan’s son Ishmael of making improper advances towards her and possibly being the father of her babe.”
Mrs. Parkhurst made a noise that sounded like a snort of disapproval, but when they looked at her she had her eyes tightly closed.
“Joseph Sallison seemed to suggest that his daughter should not only put up with Ishmael’s advances since he’s her better, but should accept it as Ishmael’s right. She screamed at her father that he was no true father or he would not suggest that she violate holy writ, and that she is running off to Bristol to meet up with a farm lad she knows, and go with him to America. She then ran away from her father, clutching her baby, and he never saw either of them again. It’s a story he repeats over and over when he’s drunk but does not speak a word of it while sober. His granddaughter has been endlessly forced to listen as Joseph Sallison angrily tells her, Your mother ran off with your baby sister and a worthless farm boy to America and she’s not had enough respect for me, her father, to even send a letter. Good riddance!”
“I’m afraid I like Sallison less and less the more I hear about him.”
“There is something I’m trying to force myself to not even think about,” said Amy with a dismal look on her face. “What if I am that young woman’s baby? That would make me Joseph Sallison’s granddaughter”
“Please don’t take this as an insult, but that is completely absurd. There is no way that can be. The girl ran off to America with her farm lad. And if by some sad chance, it was her that washed up on the sands of the Bristol Channel, the dead babe was with her.”
“I suppose you are right,” Amy said forlornly. “Anyway, the servants couldn’t find Sallison, so one of the visitors offered to drive the wagon to town since they had to leave with some urgency. There was a passenger on the wagon
. When Joseph Sallison was finally found, Sir Hugh was so enraged that he ordered him to walk to Bristol immediately and retrieve the wagon from the shipping office even though it was getting late in the day.”
“Good old Sir Hugh,” said Ben.
“But that is not all,” said Amy, “it gets more interesting. The accident with the coach occurred on April 29, 1773 and Sir Hugh died on May 17, 1773, as you know. The coroner’s jury met while Sir Hugh was still alive but gravely ill. That much the girl knows but is not aware of the dates. She remembers this because part of her grandfather’s endless drunken rants is his fear because Ishmael Anselan forced him to testify that he drove the wagon into Bristol. He has been scared ever since that somehow the authorities will discover his lie and that he will suffer severe punishment. He greatly fears the law, but he is terrified of Ishmael Anselan. That is part of why he is so taciturn and defensive. I think the girl was far from totally frank with me, but every time she spoke Ishmael Anselan’s name she muttered: He’s a bad one he is. Her grandfather seems to fear for his life.”
“I’m impressed, Amy Sibbridge. How did you get so much information from the girl?”
“Quite simple. I showed her sympathy. I spoke to her kindly—and, oh yes, I gave sixpence.”
“Sixpence,” said Ben. “You got all that information for sixpence?”
“It might have been less, but I found sixpence between the folds in my purse, so I gave her what I had.”
“I feel cheated,” said Ben with a laugh.
“Men just lack discretion with money,” said Amy. “Anyway, the girl said the old man was frightened that the two in the wagon would turn up at the inquest, but they never did. Ishmael assured him they wouldn’t, but he kept urging Joseph to keep his ears and eyes open to try and find out who they were. Ishmael thought they’d fled out of fear but he was uneasy about them.”
“I wonder why they didn’t appear at the inquest,” mused Ben. “And why did Ishmael force Sallison to lie? I wonder if the girl was telling you the truth or if the old man’s drunken rants were just his imagination. None of this makes any sense.”
“You don’t think any of it is true? Do you think they were just toying with us?”
“I don’t quite know what to think,” said Ben. “But we can’t just let it go. We have to look into it. I would like to talk with the two men who drove the wagon. If they were following close enough they might have seen what occurred, but why didn’t they testify to the coroner’s jury?”
“Maybe Ishmael got to them,” suggested Amy.
“Then why was he so worried and trying to find them?”
“Maybe he found them later,” said Amy.
“You could be right,” said Ben, “but we have to assume they are out there somewhere. We’ve got to find them.”
“But if Ishmael couldn’t find them at the time, how after all these years can we ever hope to find them,” asked Amy.
“Maybe we’re smarter than Ishmael Anselan.”
Emma, who had been uncharacteristically silent the entire time chose the pause in the conversation to ask: “Why would Amy be in danger?”
“She’s right,” said Ben, “it makes no sense. I can see no connection. There was a baby of about Amy’s age at the time, but she drowned. We saw her grave. But even if the baby survived in this confusing drama, it still doesn’t answer Emma’s question. Why would the baby be in danger even back then, and now—it just makes no sense.”
Ben sat silently for a long and dramatic minute as the coach swayed and rumbled on the road to Bath. No one said a word.
And then he leaned out the window of the coach and yelled to old Eben: “Turn the coach around, Eben. We’re going back to Bristol. I’ve got to find out about Ishmael Anselan.”
Mrs. Parkhurst’s eyes snapped open and she began to loudly protest, but nothing was going to turn Ben aside from his mission.
“It’s getting on in the afternoon,” said Ben, “but it is summer and we can still get home in daylight.”
Amy hoped he was right, because she had no idea how he intended to find out about Ishmael Anselan or even what he meant by that statement.
Back at the chandler in Bristol, Ben was able to find out the story of Ishmael. It turned out that Ishmael Anselan inherited his father’s business but there seemed to be some legal trouble over the mansion and lands, he evidently did not get them, although the last they heard some years ago was that he was fighting in court for the property. A wastrel, he ran the business into the ground and spent all the money he had inherited from his father. He sold the business or what remained of it, but kept up his profligate ways. They believed he married a rich widow in London. All this is hearsay, but Ben thinks it likely there is probably a good bit of truth in it.
Because of the lateness of the hour they ate and headed back to Bath.
On the way to Bath, because of the time of day, everyone was drowsy and they didn’t talk much. Suddenly, Amy broke the silence.
“Do you think I’m her sister?”
“Whose sister? asked Ben
“The girl at the cottage.”
“ Why would we think that? said Ben.
“I have to be related to someone. And she had my coloring and build.”
“A great many young women in England look more like you than that girl does,” said Ben.
Emma, who seemed asleep, hugged Amy’s arm and said: “You’re my sister, Amy.
And then after a long pause, and still with her eyes closed and with a gentle smile Emma added: “In many ways I’m more like you than like Mattie.”
Amy grinned and said: “Mattie. I hope Cassandra didn’t corrupt her too badly while we were away.”
Mrs. Parkhurst snorted loudly but still seemed to be asleep. And they continued on to Bath in silence and thoughtfulness.
Chapter 21
The party arrived back at Lord and Lady Quillin’s house in Bath very late in the afternoon. They had already left Ben at the home of his friend.
A very distressed Lady Sibbridge met them in the front hall.
“Mother, what’s wrong?” asked Amy seeing her flustered and agitated state.
“You’re safe, thank God you’re safe.” She was barely understandable through her tears. “After what happened to Sir Frank and Lady Ramsey I feared the worst might happen to you.”
“Oh, mother, what happened to them,” asked Amy turning pale.
Her mother patted her hand. “Oh, I didn’t mean to upset you. Sir Frank and Lady Ramsey are safe. They are upstairs. After their experience, she had to lie down. Sir Frank is with her comforting her.”
“Mother,” Amy spoke firmly, “get control of yourself and tell me what happened to the Ramseys.”
Emma and Mrs. Parkhurst had gathered around as Lady Sibbridge burst into tears. At that moment, Mattie attracted by the noise came out of the sitting room.
“Mattie, do you know why mother is so upset?” asked Amy.
“On their way from London, Sir Frank and Lady Ramsey came upon a most distressing sight,” said Mattie. “A French family, who had just escaped the reign of terror in France, were waylaid by highwaymen on the London to Bath road. The attackers killed their coachman. The Ramsay’s took the family to their destination in Bath.”
“Right in broad daylight,” Lady Sibbridge mumbled through her tears.
Amy started to speak but Mattie held up her hand. “I think they will be down to dinner, at least, Sir Frank should be, I don’t know anything more.”
Mrs. Parkhurst, her curiosity satisfied, excused herself and headed for her room.
Amy patted her mother’s shoulder. “Please don’t cry. Everything will be all right.” And aware of what would be one of her mother’s fears, if not now, when she would think of it later, Amy added, “Maybe we can hire a guard for the journey when we return home. Now, I have to go upstairs to get dressed for dinner.”
Amy was about to follow Emma upstairs when her mother grabbed her arm.
“With al
l the terrible things that have happened, I almost forgot to tell you. Someone is waiting for you in the drawing room. Oh, dear.”
“Someone is waiting to see me?” Amy was genuinely surprised. “Do you know who she is?”
“It’s not a lady. It’s a Frenchman.” And then after a pause, she added, “The Frenchman that visited us at home in Stockley-on-Arne.”
And that was indeed whom Amy found in the drawing room. The selfsame Frenchman who had visited them at home, and who identified himself as the Compte d’Belleisle. It was the same Frenchman she had encountered her first morning in Bath, in the Octagon Room of the New Assembly Rooms, having a deep conversation with a man he introduced as Lord Eskman.
As she entered, he sprang to his feet, clicked his heals together, smiled a smile Amy did not like, bowed and greeted her. “Good afternoon, Mademoiselle. Or should I say good evening. I must apologize for my ignorance but with the times in our two countries differing, I never know what to say at this time of day.”
She forced herself to smile and greet him, while making a mental note to ask Emma or Sir Frank if the times really differed in the two countries. Sir Frank would know since he had visited the continent numerous times, and Emma would know, because Emma knew everything.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” asked Amy quietly hoping that the divine injunction against lying was not too strict.
“Did your mother tell you of the horrific experience a family from my country were forced to endure this afternoon?”
“She told me some, but she was very upset and found it difficult to articulate.”
“Ah, yes. That is most understandable. At any rate, Mademoiselle, I was present at the house where the Sir Frank and Lady Ramsey so kindly and generously brought the unfortunate, and need I add, terrified family. A most sad occurrence that they suffered through.
“When I found out from the Ramseys that they were going to reside for a short time in the house where you were in residence in Bath, and I mentioned my desire to renew my acquaintance with you and your family, they kindly brought me thence since my own usual conveyance was not currently available to me.”
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