“I know you,” said Hawth. “I have it! You’re Coombe; used to be George Warren’s man of business.”
“And Chris Warrender’s before him,” said Coombe defiantly. “He’ll see me right. Tell you I only joined this riff-raff on his instigation, to help betray them.”
“You did, did you?” Jewkes lifted blood-shot eyes to stare at Coombe. “I’ll see you rot for that, if it’s the last thing I do.”
“You’re going to die,” said Coombe.
“That’s as may be, but young Pete ain’t. My lord—” He turned back to Hawth. “You’ll be easy on my Pete? He could a’ run with the others, I swear it, but stayed to help me, like the good boy he is … You’ll not … you’ll not…”
“Tell me about the mail coaches,” said Lord Hawth, “and we’ll see.”
“It’s when they didn’t run, see. That’s the signal. For the rising. All over the country. Only we wanted to beat Glinde to the hall. So, we had shepherd up the point with a beacon ready to light when the coach didn’t pass. He lit it last night. Didn’t he? Didn’t he? Tell me, my lord, did the coaches run?”
“Course they did,” said the constable. “Pack of nonsense and moonshine. What’ll I do with them, my lord?”
“Oh, committed for trial,” said Hawth wearily. “Let Jewkes’s wound be cared for. And his son stay with him. You’d best keep the other man, Coombe, well away from them. You’re answerable for his life, and it’s not worth a moment’s purchase if any of the revolutionaries get near him.”
“That it ain’t,” said Jewkes with satisfaction. “And I warrant we’ll catch him, soon or late, and Mr. Turncoat Warrender with him. You’ll not forget, Pete? You’ll not…”
“I’ll not forget.” Pete caught him as he fell from his chair.
“Well?” Alone again, Hawth opened the panel. “What do you think of your position now?”
“God blast that Coombe, playing it both ways. Forged my hand to that note to Kate of course. I should have thought of that. He knows it well enough.” Warrender poured wine with a shaking hand. “He’ll not get a penny—” He stopped.
“I wonder just what you promised him. And for what? It was he, I remember, who advised George Warren so badly when he first came over. Your plan, I take it? It didn’t work, you know. He’s loved about the place. He’s made work, built cottages, cared.”
“Oh, God, your pattern landowner. I know! I’ve seen! So what do we do, your daughter and I?”
“I’m glad you ask it at last. I only wish I knew the answer. If I could persuade Susan to whistle you down the wind. I’d do so. Were it not for the child.”
“Ah, yes, the child. That invaluable child. Had you thought that if it should be so obliging as to be a boy, we can break the entail on Warren House, George Warren, he and I?”
“I think you entirely shameless,” said Lord Hawth.
“And starving,” said Chris Warrender. “If you’ll excuse me, my lord, I’ll make an end of this improving conversation and find myself something to eat.”
“You’ll not leave the hall!”
“I most certainly shall not. I value my life, and am glad to see that you do, too.”
But Hawth thought his bravado was wearing thin. Glad to be alone, he sat down to write a quick despatch for London. An urgent relay of riders must get it to the Home Office in time for guards to be set on the night’s mail coaches. Incredible that after, so much activity, it should still be early morning.
In the dining room, Chris Warrender found his mother, Kate, still in coat and breeches, and George Warren, all very comfortably consuming ham and eggs. They had been talking, even laughing. Now they were silent, looking at him.
“Well!” He had one of his challenging glances for Kate. “I should have thought by now, sister dear, you would have contrived to make yourself at least seem respectable. But how should I expect anything but idiocy from you! To have refused Lord Hawth! Are you about in the head, girl! I am doing my best to bring him round again, and then, as head of the family, I shall expect a more rational answer. In the meantime, pray go to your room and try and make yourself look a lady, if you cannot behave like one.”
“That’s enough.” George Warren was on his feet, eyes flashing, fists clenched. “You are speaking to the lady who has agreed to be my wife. Otherwise, sister or no, I would think it my duty to call you out.”
“Your wife? Your wife?” Warrender dissolved into laughter. “Well, I’ll be damned. Not quite the fool I thought you, eh, Kate? Pity about the title, mind you, but judging by what he’s done to my house, Warren’s a warm man. I hope you’ll stop her jaunting about the countryside like that!” He had a scornful comprehensive look for Kate’s trousered legs. “You’ll be living under the cat’s foot else. Probably will anyway. Which reminds me. I’m head of the family. Time you asked my permission?”
“I have Mrs. Warrender’s.”
“Thanks! But I’d like a word with you alone just the same.”
“Very well. In the book-room.”
“George?” Kate put a hand on his arm. “You won’t fight him?”
“No need.” He looked down at her, smiling. “He doesn’t mean to fight me.”
“Of course not. I’ve got some sense. Really, women …” Alone in the book-room, Chris turned to Warren with an assumption of good fellowship. “They’ve got no more idea …”
“We will not discuss the ladies.”
“Oh, very well, but I trust you intend to give that old mother of mine a home, for it’s more than I do.”
“I’d not let her live with you—” He stopped. “Never tell me Hawth has consented to your marriage to Susan?”
“Quick, ain’t you? Yes, he has, and for reason good. That’s what we have to discuss, you and I, as men of the world. My Sue’s in the straw. Course her father consents. Quick marriage, early birth, no trouble. And a million to one it’s a boy. We Warrenders breed true. So—you and I and he together can break the entail. I never did fancy being tied down to the grind of a country gentleman. Seems you like it. Well then? With Sue’s dowry and what you give me for Warren House we’ll take ourselves off far as you please. No problem to anyone. Pity Boney’s got such a stranglehold on Europe, but it won’t last for ever. In the meantime, we’ll find ourselves a corner somewhere. Sicily, maybe? Lisbon? And you and Kate can settle snug as you like at the Warren.” He laughed. “You and Kate! Of all the things. What a dance shell lead you, my sister Kate.”
“We are not discussing the ladies! As to your proposition, I like it. Futherby shall look into it, with the utmost discretion, as a future hypothesis. In the meantime, we will settle, among us, on a fair rent for the Warren, which shall be paid to you through any foreign banker of your choice.”
“Foreign, eh?”
“I think you’d be wise to leave the country, for your own sake as well as for Susan’s. And the less said about that, the better.”
“Mustn’t sully the ladies’ ears? Nonsense! My mother spotted it at once, I could’ see. Always did have a sharp eye for a maidservant’s condition.”
“Hold your tongue,” said George Warren.
Returning to the dining room, he found Kate and her mother still sitting over empty teacups. “All’s well, love.” He pushed back the ruffled shirt cuff and kissed Kate’s hand, “It’s not to be America after all. Will you be disappointed? You and I are to rent Warren House from your brother. Which I take it means he has given permission for our marriage.”
“That’s lucky,” said Kate.
Warren laughed. “He said I’d live under the cat’s foot.” He turned to Mrs. Warrender. “Ma’am, I hope I don’t have to ask it, but you will come and live with us and protect me, will you not?”
Mrs. Warrender blushed, and smiled, and sighed. “Thank you, George, I will gladly.”
“Good.” He smiled at them both, “How pleased Chilver will be to have you home. I have only just realised why he has been looking so wretched. He must have recognised your son a
nd been anxious for him.”
“Or for you,” said Mrs. Warrender.
Hawth spent most of the day in his study, dealing with the flood of messengers who reported the state of the wreck, the number of drowned Frenchmen and the injuries to the two parties of wreckers. These had been surprisingly slight, since everyone’s first thought had been for booty, and even Jewkes was reported to have some chance of recovery. As for his brother Seth and Sam Chilver, they had vanished without trace.
“And I’m just as glad,” Hawth told Warren, who had found him still busy writing. “I think this is a time for mercy to temper justice. Sam Chilver saved Kate’s life; Seth Jewkes was his brother’s tool.”
“But what of the wreckers?”
“I’ve been discussing that with the commander up at the barracks. He says that there were genuine efforts made to rescue those of the Frenchmen who had any chance of survival. What with that and the fact that they prevented an invasion, he and I are inclined to let sleeping dogs lie.”
“You mean, no prosecutions?”
“Just so.” Hawth smiled his saturnine smile. “It’s all to be hushed up. The rising, the French attempt at landing, everything. He took a bit of persuading, but he’s gravely under strength; he doesn’t want trouble any more than I do. You know how that kind of thing spreads.”
Warren nodded. “Specially with this unknown threat still hanging over us from London.”
“Precisely. If only we knew! what it was that was to bring out the mob and stop the coaches. But General Ludd keeps his counsel well.”
“Yes.” Warren shivered, remembering that refrain of Blood, blood, bread or blood. “You think it will happen soon?”
“I’m sure of it. Don’t you see, the French attempt at landing proves it. The rising in London, whatever is planned, should have happened first, so that we were already in trouble here when the French came. They must have got their signals crossed somehow, but they would hardly have been more than a day or so out. And Jewkes and his friends would only have kept watches as they did if they expected the signal at any moment. I hope to God my couriers reach London in time to alert the authorities. Though mind you Mr. Ryder is pretty much on the qui vive already.” He looked up as the clock struck. “Time to change for dinner. You’ll stay the night, of course. I’m not letting Mrs. Warrender and her daughter return to the Dower House.”
“No.” George Warren had been waiting for his opportunity. “Hawth, I’ve something to tell you. I hope you’ll like it, though I’m afraid it means you will lose your housekeeper. I’m engaged to be married.”
“What?” The pen broke in Hawth’s hands as he jumped to his feet. “Engaged …”
“Miss Warrender has done me the honour of accepting me.”
“My dear man! I’m delighted. Congratulations. I hope she makes you very happy.” It came out in jerks. And then: “You’ve talked to that brother of hers?”
“I’ve promised to pay him rent for Warren House at any foreign bank of his choice.”
“Foreign? Thank you, George.” They exchanged a long look.
“But that poor child. Susan. Should you let her?”
“I’m afraid so. She wants it. And in the circumstances…”
“Yes. Strange little creature. God knows what will come of it. But she wants it. And there it is. As soon as possible. And—we’ll say no more about it.” He rose to his feet. “Come, we must change.”
Kate was putting on the green dress that Susan had admired, it seemed a million years ago. “Miss Kate?” Betty Parsons was fastening the back and Kate could see her anxious face in the glass.
“Yes?”
“I’ve a message for you. James said to give it.”
“James?”
“Yes, miss. My intended. He and Sam Chilver are better nor brothers. You heard Sam got away, miss? With Seth Jewkes of the shop?”
“Yes. I’m glad about Sam. I’d meant to speak to his lordship about him. Still will, of course. And to Mr. Warren.”
“I’m so happy for you, miss. That’s a good man. And he’ll listen to you, that’s for sure. We knew you’d speak up for Sam. And of course everyone knows by now what was done for Johnny Penfold. But, miss, the message. Sam told James I was to ask you to get that brother of yours well away, and then not to fret. All that should know about you and him, does. Now Jewkes of the pub’s as good as dead, things is going to be different down at Tidemills. They’ve had a fright, James says. And they don’t like the French anymore than you and I do. That General Ludd had best keep away from these parts, surely. And, as for you, why, I reckon they kind of like you, miss. For what you’ve done, whatever that is.”
“Thank you, Betty.” However enigmatic, it was curiously reassuring, and she went downstairs, in glowing looks, to find George Warren waiting for her in the morning room.
“I hoped you’d be first.” He had something in his hand. “This was my mother’s.” It was a ring of the palest, plainest gold, with one single, perfect pearl, and it fitted. “And these—” his lips just brushed her cheeks as he produced the two leather jewel boxes—“are yours. Yours and your mother’s. I thought it a night for decorations, and sent posthaste for Futherby. I forgot to ask him which was which!”
“Dear Futherby. And dear George.” She picked up the smaller of the two jewel boxes. “I’ve missed them.” Opening the box, she took out a small string of seed pearls. “Perfect,” she said. “Fasten them for me, George?”
Miss Lintott, arriving upon this scandalous scene, let out a loud and awful sniff. “Men’s clothes all day,” she said, “and—”
“My wife to be,” said George Warren;
“Congratulations.” Miss Lintott addressed the one word to Kate.
It should have been a festive evening, with the two engaged couples to be toasted, but over it all hung the shadow of what might be happening in London. “I’ve sent James and another of the men in to Glinde,” Hawth told Warren as the men sat over their wine. “He’s to report at once when the mail coach arrives.”
“If it arrives,” said Warren. “Half past six in the morning, isn’t it?”
Hawth laughed grimly. “Not the ideal time of day to start a revolution. Anyway, after last night’s activities, there’s not much spirit left at Tidemills. They know there are to be no prosecutions. They’ll lie low, I think.”
“No prosecutions? Not even Jewkes?”
“Jewkes died. This afternoon. Coombe will be sent to London for trial, and, presumably, spirited away by the Home Office if he can convince them that he was really playing their game.”
“And young Pete?”
“I’ve had him released.”
“High-handed.” Chris Warrender had been very silent, drinking heavily.
“I think I am in a position to be. You’d best be grateful for it. Frankly, your position is not much better than Coombe’s.”
“Ah,” Warrender smiled at him, “but he has not the advantage of being about to become your son-in-law.”
“Let us join the ladies,” said Lord Hawth.
By general consent, they all retired early, all determined to be up and ready for whatever news the morning might bring. Kate and her mother, sharing the room they had used when they first came to the hall, undressed in silence. Kissing her daughter goodnight at last: “I’m so happy for you, dear,” said Mrs. Warrender.
“Oh, mother, if only …”
“It’s no good, Kate, and we both know it. Impossible anyway, even before Chris …”
“I could kill him,” said Kate. “And poor little Susan. I wish he’d not allow it.” They both knew to whom the “he” referred. But Mrs. Warrender was pretending to be asleep, and Kate, did likewise, and, equally, pretended not to hear the tears gallantly stifled in her mother’s pillow. Neither of them slept much, and they were down, heavy-eyed, to meet the rest of the party over an anxious, early breakfast. Only Miss Lintott and Chris Warrender were absent, Miss Lintott seeing no reason to break her lifelong habit of br
eakfast in bed, and Chris perhaps feeling that the less he saw of his future father-in-law the better.
Pouring Lord Hawth’s tea just as he liked it, Mrs. Warrender stopped, listening. “Someone’s coming!”
“Fast,” said Hawth. “Parsons, bring him straight here.”
“Yes, my lord. At once.” He returned a few minutes later with James, still in mudstained riding boots.
“They came, my lord, the coaches.” James looked badly shaken. “But there’s news. Word of mouth. No time for a Gazette. Mr. Perceval’s dead. Killed in the House.”
“The Prime Minister? Killed? How?”
“Shot, my lord. They don’t know much. A man called Bellingham, that they did know. And the mob cheered him. Bellingham. They had to wait for the Life Guards before they sent him, double-ironed, to Newgate. Touch and go, it was, by the sound of it.”
“But the mail coaches ran,” said George Warren.
“Thank God they were prepared for it,” said Hawth. “Is all quiet at Glinde?”
“Hardly a soul stirring. Sleeping it off, I reckon.”
“Good. Thank you, James. Get some sleep. I wonder,” he went on, after the man had gone, “Bellingham? Never heard of him. Could he be General Ludd?”
“We may never know,” said George Warren. “But it does sound as if the worst of the danger is past.” He stood up. “I think I’d best thank you for your hospitality, get home to Warren House and start setting things in order there. I want it fit to receive its mistress. Kate—” he smiled down at her—“you’ll let me name an early day?”
“I don’t know.” She looked from him to her mother. “It’s all so strange. Poor Mr. Perceval. And Mrs. Perceval all those children. It doesn’t seem right to be happy.”
“It’s good to be alive,” said George Warren, “and not fighting off the mob. Come, love, see me to my horse and let me persuade you? Mrs. Warrender will stand my friend, won’t you, ma’am? I was thinking.” Diffidently. “You know the old west wing? We could make a kind of … kind of Dower House there for you, ma’am. If you’d just tell me what you’d like?”
“Too kind.” She looked up at him, hollow-eyed. “You are everything that is kind, George.”
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