The Captain's Daughter

by Minnie Simpson

  “Yes, from what I heard it was really frightening. But tell me Compte, is it true that you wish to speak to me?”

  “That is indeed true, mademoiselle.”

  “But was my mother, Lady Sibbridge, not puzzled that you specifically wished to speak to me, since you and my family are barely acquainted?”

  “I explained to her that I understood my request must seem most unusual, but I needed to talk to someone who was in communication with your neighbor. I told her his name was, I believed, Ben, and she confirmed that your neighbor was Sir Benjamin Anstruther. And since she is well aware that he is a friend of yours and that you were the best person to contact him, she was most willing that you talk to me, because it is a matter of such great import.”

  “Sir—Compte—I certainly have some conversations with Sir Benjamin, but we are not friends. We are only acquainted because we have some common interests...”

  Amy had been about to explain that he was trying to help her solve a mystery, but realized that might not be wise since she did not know anything about the man other than what he claimed and she did not trust what he said. She was thankful when he asked no questions about her and Ben.

  “Ah, Mademoiselle, but you do have converse with him and that is very important, because what I have to speak to you about is a matter of life and death.”

  “Life and death?”

  “Yes, Mademoiselle, that is most truly what it is. In my coming here I am exposing myself to great danger. You have heard some about what happened to that family from France this very day. It is tragic that in my once happy land of France that the Reign of Terror guillotines not only those of noble birth but many of humble birth as well. Once those of noble birth as well as the others escape France they are usually safe since the rabble have already taken all they own, but not always.”

  “You are saying, Compte, that the family that was attacked today was not attacked by common highwaymen. The highwaymen have been very active lately.”

  “That is what I am saying, Mademoiselle. The Comité de salut public, The Committee of Public Safety, may be most prominent in the carrying out of terror and murder in my country, but secretly they have both eyes and ears and dangerous men in your country. The attack on that poor family today was clearly an act of the Comité.”

  “If what you say is true, why do the authorities in England not put a stop to it?”

  “Forgive me, mademoiselle, I have great respect for those in authority in your country, and yet I do not think they really believe or understand the true depth of the threat. And the attacks the agents of the Comité carry out are directed against expatriates of France, and so your authorities put it down to common highwaymen who overhear at some roadside inn that a French family is traveling down the highway. And they are of the opinion that the highwaymen believe that all French families are carrying all the wealth they could bring with them from France, so are a most desirable target.”

  “So you believe, Compte, that the recent rash of robberies are the action of agents of the Reign of Terror.”

  “Not all, mademoiselle, but many, and especially the most cruel and bloody.”

  “Even if that is true, what do I and Sir Benjamin have to do with that?”

  “As I mentioned, once a family or individual is safely housed in England, they are usually not under threat by the Comité but there are exceptions. Those who have worked against the revolution or the work of the Comité, the Comité believes must be hunted down and exterminated. They must die. You may know someone who is under a death sentence by the Comité.”

  Amy felt a chill run down her spine. She now knew where this conversation was headed. The man that stood before her dressed in all his finery like a strutting peacock and claiming to be a member of the French nobility had sent his men to follow her to Ben’s place. She feared they were after Pierre, or rather Ben’s guest who had called himself Pierre. But if that were true, why would he be of interest to them?

  “Who might that be, Compte?”

  “I am one of those on the assassin’s list. I apologize that I cannot reveal to you why. Your friend...your acquaintance, forgive me, I almost forgot he is not your friend, your acquaintance, Sir Benjamin, has an associate who is also on the assassin’s list. I am told his name is Pierre, is that not right?”

  When Amy did not answer, the Compte shrugged his shoulders and continued.

  “It is absolutely necessary that I meet with him—with Pierre. I have vital information that I must convey to him. His life is in great danger.”

  Amy was sure that Pierre was fully aware of the dangers he faced. But why was the Compte so intent in meeting Pierre, or was it all a sham? And if he knew of a specific threat to Pierre, why did he seem not know Pierre’s true name, if the name Pierre was a pseudonym? Another thought crossed Amy’s mind. Supposing she was mistaken and the Compte was genuine. This was a time of strange goings on, intrigues, and threats. Who could you trust? Who was telling the truth? Once uncertainty wedged its way into her conscious it actively constructed many possible scenarios. She suddenly realized the Frenchman was closely watching her.

  “You must realize, Compte, that Sir Benjamin did have a visitor whom I think was named Pierre, but this visitor is no longer there. I knew little about him when he was with my neighbor and I know nothing about him now.”

  “But perhaps your friend—I mean Sir Benjamin, does. May I implore you to convey to Sir Benjamin that I must with utmost urgency speak with his associate? I must emphasize, mademoiselle, it is truly a matter of life and death.”

  “I will do as you ask, Compte, but if Sir Benjamin asks where to get in touch with you what should I tell him.”

  “I will be in touch. And mademoiselle, we seem to have met so often of late, it likely will not be long before we meet once more.”

  When Amy informed her mother of the Frenchman’s imminent departure, Lady Sibbridge conveyed an invitation from Mrs. Wardsley for the Compte to have dinner with them. Somewhat to Amy’s surprise he agreed.

  That night found additional guests at the dinner table. Amy was relieved to see that Lady Ramsay was recovered enough to accompany Sir Frank, and of course, the Compte d’Belleisle was there, but there was also a surprise guest.

  As the meal began, they were interrupted by the arrival of this guest. He was announced by Lord and Lady Quillin’s butler.

  “Lord Eskman,” the butler announced standing stiffly erect.

  The Compte, who was sitting across from Amy, somewhat to her discomfort, leaned towards her and in a loud whisper said to Amy: “You met Lord Eskman at the New Assembly Rooms. Lady Sibbridge and Mrs. Wardsley invited him to dinner at my suggestion.”

  Why Amy wondered to herself. Why did he want Lord Eskman here at dinner? She desperately wanted to speak with Emma but could not with the Frenchman’s two ears just a few feet across the table. His ears do look unusually large she thought to herself, but maybe that’s because of his extra fancy wig.

  Sir Frank and Lady Ramsey vividly described how they came across a horrifying scene early in the day. A carriage with an aristocratic French family, fleeing the Reign of Terror with their remaining possessions, had been waylaid by a gang of robbers. When their coachman tried to outrun them, the robbers shot him. As he lay bleeding to death on the highway, they robbed the family. After viciously beating the father into unconsciousness and leaving him bleeding and propped against the front wheel of the coach, they quickly left. The London to Bath road was a busy road and they had done their dirty work in not more than five minutes.

  Almost as the robbers disappeared from view, the Ramsay’s coach came upon the sad and tragic and blood spattered scene. The Frenchwoman, the mother, like many of the French nobility spoke no English. To the French, their language was supreme and they need not speak another language, but both Sir Frank and Lady Ramsay, as with all educated Englishmen, spoke French.

  Leaving the French family’s coach, which had been damaged in the attack, at the side of th
e road, they rushed the French family to Bath in the Ramsay’s coach so they could seek medical attention. With both families crushed into the Ramsay’s coach, and Sir Frank riding on the roof with his coachman and clutching the firearms he usually kept concealed in his coach, they sped to Bath. Poor Lady Ramsay was crushed inside the coach with the hysterical French mother at her elbow, and the blood-covered French father sitting opposite in a groggy semi-conscious state.

  Both Lord Eskman and the Compte, made all the appropriate responses as the Ramseys told of their ordeal. They bemoaned the dangers and threats of the day when a busy highway like the London to Bath road could not be traversed in safety, without being set upon by gangs of bandits. In fact, Lord Eskman had a great deal to say about the dangers of travel, so much so that he dominated the conversation, at least that part of it that involved the evil highwaymen and their unfortunate victims.

  Amy noticed that Emma was taking great interest in what was being said and who was saying it. She made a mental note to ask later what was so intriguing to Emma, but she forgot, and only much later did she realize what was going through her sister’s mind.

  When the meal was over and everyone adjourned to the sitting room, the Compte and Lord Eskman both declined an invitation to gather with the others. They were very apologetic but they said they must go. As they bade goodnight to the ladies, the younger ones last, Amy was disturbed to see that look that was so familiar to her in Mattie’s eyes, as Mattie’s eyes met those of Lord Eskman.

  Surely she cannot be attracted to that old man, thought Amy. Although, in looking at him through Mattie’s eyes she supposed he was somewhat good looking in a rough, older sort of way.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by Lord Eskman who surprised her with the question: “Compte d’Belleisle tells me you and your sister made a visit to Bristol today on some business with a gentleman, a neighbor of yours. I trust it was an enjoyable and profitable journey.”

  “Oh...Oh yes, Lord Eskman, but regrettably it was not profitable, although it did prove a pleasant distraction.”

  Her reply was not what she would have preferred in retrospect, but he did take her by surprise. Why did he say that? She decided she was being over-reactive and reading something suspicious into everything that was said. Don’t be silly, Amy. He was just being polite, she told herself. But her argument to herself was just not that convincing.

  That evening, Mattie gushed about how handsome the stranger was, much to both Amy’s and Emma’s disgust,

  “Ugh,” said Emma her face contorted into a combination of horror and revulsion, “he’s so old, practically a fossil.”

  Mattie paid little attention to Emma’s disapprobation, since she felt her own judgment about male handsomeness was much more cultivated and accomplished than that of her little inexperienced sister.

  Amy was much more occupied with her thoughts about the guests of that evening. What were they up to? Was she just being too suspicious and turning a friendly visit into some sort of conspiracy? What did she have to go on? She mentally listed the facts. The Frenchman looked like a Compte, he talked like a French aristocrat, although her knowledge and acquaintance with that breed was a trifle thin. He seemed genuine. He repeatedly emphasized that he wanted to help his exiled countrymen escape the threat of the dreaded Committee of Public Safety. If he was up to some dark and dastardly deed or in some plot, why would he even reveal himself?

  And yet, she had a very bad feeling about him when he visited their family home in Stockley-on-Arne, and she could not shake the feeling and suspicion. Of course, she had felt uncomfortable about Ben with all the dark happenings at his house and the immediate surroundings, but now she felt she had been mistaken and most unfair to Ben. So much so, that she now felt ashamed. Perhaps, it was the same way with the Frenchman. Maybe they were all on the same side.

  As she was readying for bed, her mother came with a small piece of paper.

  “Amy, dear, with all the terrible things that happened today, I forgot to bring you this note. It came this evening.”

  The note was from Ben.

  By chance, one of the young men in this house, whose acquaintance I have just made, has some information that has pointed me in what I believe is the right direction in our search for answers, and I am most anxious to follow up on it. There is a partial moon tonight, therefore I am returning to Bristol this evening.

  Amy doused her bedside candle and went to the window. She pulled aside the drapes. The light from the partial moon that softly entered through the window was slight. The garden in the back of the house was only dimly lit. It would not be easy for a traveler that night, especially where the road was shrouded with trees.

  “Oh Ben,” Amy pleaded out loud as a tear ran down her cheek, “please be safe.”

  Chapter 22

  Amy’s prayers were answered. Two days later, Ben was on the front steps of the Quillin home.

  It was early afternoon and Mattie, Emma, and Cassandra were out somewhere in town undoubtedly fraternizing with the locals. Lady Sibbridge, Lady Ramsey, and Mrs. Wardsley were in the sitting room officially engaged in needlework but more likely engaged in what might politely be called the exchange of information. Sir Frank had taken Amy’s father for a walk because it was a brisk but pleasant summer day in Bath and Sir Frank felt that his old comrade needed fresh air.

  Seating themselves in the drawing room, Ben extracted some notes from his satchel.

  “This was a profitable journey,” said Ben.

  “I’m just glad you made it back safely,” said Amy. “I appreciate your help but I would never forgive myself if something happened to you, and riding to Bristol Wednesday night seemed to me to be very risky.”

  “Not at all,” remonstrated Ben, “it was a clear night and I made good time.”

  “It’s just that there are many evil men at large on the highways of England.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” laughed Ben. “I can outride any brigand, or brigands, and I can outshoot them too.”

  “Please, don’t be over-confident Ben. I worry for your safety.”

  He paused and looked up from his papers and gave Amy a knowing smile. She resisted, but could feel herself turn red. She wondered if she had given him the wrong signal. After all, she said to herself, we’re only friends.

  In order to head off any wrong impression he might derive from what she just said, she quickly added: “I was worried about you as I would worry about anyone I knew who made a short journey to Bristol and did not return for two whole days.”

  He looked at her and smiled. “I don’t believe it was two whole days. I left Wednesday evening, and I am back here early Friday afternoon. Anyway, it’s all your fault.”

  “What do you mean my fault?”

  “If you’re going to be in some way linked to a ship owner and captain whose demise requires the intervention of a coroner’s jury, try and get them to meet their end in the same county where they ply their trade.” He paused, as she looked unhappy at what he had just said. “I’m really sorry, Amy, I didn’t mean to be insensitive. It’s just that the stretch of the Avon where they drowned is in Gloucestershire.”

  “You had to go to Gloucester?”

  “The worst part is I spent most of the morning at the coroner’s court in Bristol, before it was determined that it was outside of their jurisdiction. So I had to ride to Gloucester which is much further from Bristol than the distance from Bristol to Bath. It took half the afternoon to get there, and I know this will scare you, but it was well past nightfall before I was back in Bristol. And it was not as clear last night, and I had never made the journey before yesterday. But I survived with a few close calls. That is why I spent the night in Bristol.”

  “Ben, you have to take care.”

  Sensing the anguish in her voice, he laughed: “Maybe I’m being a little too dramatic and over-emphasizing the dangers. I made the journey safely and I’m sitting here next to you instilling fear and terror.”

  He
might make light of it, but Amy was not convinced.

  “And as I said, the journey with all its hazards was quite productive,” added Ben.

  “Are the things the old man and the girl told us true?”

  “That is the question, Amy,” said Ben looking at his notes. “That is the question. Joseph Sallison, the carter and stablehand, did indeed testify at the inquest just as he said. Also, so did Sir Hugh’s son Ishmael Anselan, a certain Francis Whittle, the clerk from the shipping company, Frank Whittleyson, and even the family butler.”

  “What about the first mate?” asked Amy.

  “There was no record of him testifying, but the records might be incomplete. Coroner’s records are sometimes not as rigorous as those in a normal court of law. What is interesting although certainly not illogical is Caroline Buchanan, the captain’s mother, testified. She was coming down from the north to see her son, but was delayed by the muddy roads. When she arrived he was already dead.”

  “That is so sad,” said Amy.

  “It was indeed, because she had to identify the body of her son.”

  “Was there no one else that could identity him?”

  “I’m sure there must have been, but she was the most obvious. She was also present at the funeral not only on her own behalf as his mother, but on behalf of Sir Hugh.”

  “Ishmael Anselan wasn’t at his father’s funeral?”

  “I don’t know. The records are not conclusive about many things. What is also sad is that Caroline Buchanan had to identify the bodies of her daughter-in-law and granddaughter when they washed up on the beach later on. It was noted that they were in very bad condition, but I suppose she recognized the clothing or perhaps an item of jewelry.”

  Amy had to fight back tears both for the sadness of the situation and out of sympathy for the captain’s mother.

  “According to the testimony given to the coroner’s jury, the captain and his wife, along with their daughter who was about one year old, were invited to visit Sir Hugh at his estate. The reason for the invitation seems to have been to tell the captain he had been assigned to command a new and bigger ship. Why this involved a trip to his estate seems unusual, but still quite reasonable. His mother was asked if she knew why the captain and his family were invited to visit Sir Hugh at his country house, but her son had not told her about the visit.”