Moon Cutters

by Janet Woods

  ‘A man gets paid an amount equal to the work he puts in. Now, I’m going to see what damage has been done. Put your coat on and come with me. The others are waiting outside with the dogs, and we’re all armed. Here, take this pistol, and make sure that female doesn’t get in front of it. Has she recovered from her fright?’

  ‘She’s as mad as a nest of wasps.’

  ‘Serves her right.’ With some irritation, his uncle added, ‘Women should keep their noses out of a man’s business. Where’s that damned dog got to?’

  When his master gave three sharp whistles, Caesar came from the house, but he was reluctant and kept looking back and whining.

  Sir James cuffed the dog across the nose. Caesar showed his teeth and growled. When struck again, the dog’s tail went between his legs and he rolled on his back in the submissive position. A kick in the ribs made him yelp and got him on his feet. ‘That female is turning you into a fancy lap dog. I’ll have to give you a beating so you can learn who’s the boss.’

  They went on foot, the moon allowing them enough light to cover the ground safely.

  Caesar had slunk off to join his parents. Fletcher felt sorry for the animal. Well trained though he was, he had been guarding Miranda, no doubt by his uncle’s orders, and he was now confused by his own instincts.

  The night was clear and there was nobody about except for his uncle’s workers, who stood in a group. Their voices rumbled as they stood around talking amongst themselves. The light from the lanterns illuminated their faces and gave them a demonic appearance.

  There had been considerable damage done to the wall. The gates were bent and the pillars blown apart so the stones were scattered. Smoke and dust rose into the air.

  ‘Has anyone seen the gatekeeper?’

  There was a general shaking of heads.

  They turned at the sound of riders, and pistols were displayed. It was Simon Bailey and three of his men.

  Bailey said, ‘We were riding the coast looking for signs of catchers and heard an explosion. What has happened, Sir James?’

  ‘Someone’s demolished the new gate and part of the boundary wall, and the keeper is missing.’

  Simon’s eyes gleamed in the lantern light. ‘We’ll keep our eyes open for him.’ His gaze ran over the men and stopped on Fletcher. ‘Mr Taunt, I noticed your lugger isn’t at its mooring. Gone across to Cherbourg, has she?’

  Fletcher nearly cursed out loud, and his brain scrambled to come up with anything that sounded remotely plausible. ‘Could be. The Wild Rose is delivering sacks of seaweed fertilizer for the French farmers, and doing a little fishing on the way back.’

  Simon Bailey nodded. ‘I’d expect you to keep the fertilizer for your own fields. Still, what do I know about farming? I’ve heard a rumour that you intend to have Monksfoot Abbey under cultivation as soon as possible.’

  ‘Have you indeed? News travels quickly, and farming wouldn’t be part of your duties, surely?’

  ‘It’s amazing what can be found hidden in a haystack.’

  His uncle didn’t even bat an eyelid and astonished him with a display of family unity. ‘I was discussing the possibility of combining the two estates earlier with my nephew, just before we heard the explosion. He prefers to be running the shipping side of the business, so any questions regarding agriculture should be directed to me.’ His eyes took in the ruined walls and his mouth tightened. ‘There’s nothing that can be done until morning, so we might as well return to the house, gentlemen.’

  Bailey tipped his hat, though he didn’t seem inclined to leave. ‘I’ll ask the master of the revenue cutter to keep a special look out for the Wild Rose. He’s patrolling the coast tonight, along with one of the Navy cutters. It’s going to be right busy out there in the Channel. I wouldn’t want them to mistake her for a smuggler when she’s going about her lawful business for the Fenmore and Taunt Shipping Company. That Navy cutter is well armed, as is the revenue boat. She could blow the bows right off the Wild Rose, so I hope she’s flying the company colours from her mast.’

  ‘Perhaps you’d inform your men that the Wild Rose is not a company vessel, but a privately owned one.’

  ‘Is that a fact?’ Bailey gazed up at the sky and smiled. ‘I love a nice moon, don’t you? Silas Asher would be spitting curses at it, were he still alive. He liked a dark night, did Silas. I heard he left you a fortune, Mr Taunt.’

  ‘Could be, Mr Bailey.’

  ‘No good will come of it.’

  ‘As far as I know, it was earned legitimately, and I can think of several good uses to put it to, including charitable.’

  ‘There was blood on Silas Asher’s hands when he earned it, and there’s blood on the moon tonight. I can almost smell it.’

  Fletcher shrugged. ‘Be careful Silas’s ghost doesn’t rise out of the sea to haunt you, then. There’s a saying in these parts: “The spirit of those who curse the moon will rise to do the devil’s bidding when he calls their name.”’

  As if on cue, on the outside periphery of the circle of men, a dog opened its throat and howled. It was Nero. The noise rose into the sudden silence and the air around them throbbed. The other two dogs joined in, perfectly harmonized, the howl primitive and unearthly.

  Abruptly, the noise stopped and was answered by a flurry of worn-out barks coming from a distance. Silas’s old hounds! They still guarded the old man’s room, and Fletcher supposed they always would.

  The hair on the back of Fletcher’s neck prickled. His uncle’s lurchers were on the alert, their heads turned towards the noise the elderly dogs had made, their snouts casting the air.

  The horses whickered, snorted and fidgeted, unease displayed in their flattened ears, dancing hooves and rolling eyes. The customs men swore as they fought to bring them under control.

  Shuffling their feet, the estate workers looked around them, exchanging uneasy glances.

  ‘We’ll be off, then,’ Simon Bailey said, the bravado in his smile as shallow as it was forced. It was obvious he intended to have the last word when, before moving off, he said, ‘Watch out for the devil, gentlemen. He might be wearing a uniform.’

  ‘I’ve never heard that saying about cursing the moon and invoking the devil,’ his uncle remarked when they began the traipse back to the house a little way ahead of the other two men.

  Fletcher laughed. ‘Nor I, but his reaction to it was rather surprising. It brought me out in a rash of goose bumps, and I almost believed my own words. Bailey made a good comeback.’

  ‘You’d do well to remember that the man’s not stupid by any means, and he’s ambitious. He has a tendency to play things close to his chest.’

  ‘Do you have someone in his service?’

  His uncle smiled. ‘I also play things close to my chest – it’s safer, and a habit you should cultivate yourself, my boy, since you have a tendency to follow your heart. And don’t imagine all is forgiven. You’ve turned us into rivals by making a fool out of me. I won’t forget it in a hurry.’

  ‘We’re not rivals. We no longer have the same values, uncle. I grew up accepting yours. It wasn’t until I left and began to think for myself that I realized I didn’t want to spend my life trying to outwit the law. I want to live my life without having to look over my shoulder all the time.’

  ‘Yet you accepted Silas’s ill-gotten gains.’

  ‘Someone had to have it. He seemed to think we’re related.’

  A thrusting look nearly speared him. ‘You won’t leave it alone, will you? How would you define that kinship, nephew? Convince me.’

  Fletcher shrugged. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Exactly. You are what you are, Fletcher: the product of a coupling between my sister and a man called Adrian Taunt.’

  ‘Why is there no record of him?’

  ‘He came from nothing and left nothing of himself behind when he departed … except you.’

  As usual, Miranda waited until Pridie left and then poured the milk into the garden bed below the window.

>   ‘I hope he hasn’t put anything in my milk, too.’

  ‘You’ll be able to smell it if he has. It’s probably Valerian.’

  ‘Have you seen Sir James’s dispensary?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Perhaps he’ll show it to us if I ask him.’

  They could hear the two women guests engaged in whispered conversation at the landing. Lucy tiptoed over to the door and opened it a fraction.

  Mrs George’s voice was a low murmur. ‘I’m surprised he keeps those young ladies here without a chaperone.’

  ‘Oh, they’re not ladies in the true sense of the word; they were destitute when he found them on the road. Their mother had died in childbirth. Goodness knows where they came from. They are educated to a certain degree, and, as you heard, the younger one plays the piano badly, though Sir James always makes us sit through it.’

  ‘I daresay the pair will end up coming to no good.’

  Mrs Patterson gave a low laugh. ‘There’s no fool like an old fool. I’m given to understand that Sir James has already expressed affection for the older girl, and the little minx is encouraging it. We all know what comes of that sort of behaviour.’

  When Lucy gasped, Mrs George whispered, ‘Did you hear that noise? I’d heard this house was haunted.’

  ‘So had I.’

  ‘I’ll give you haunted,’ Lucy whispered.

  ‘No don’t, Lucy.’ Nearly helpless with suppressed laughter as Lucy headed through to the maid’s room, the grab Miranda made at her sister’s arm was ineffective. Pulling the sheet off the bed, Lucy threw it over her head and opened the door. Giving a low, bloodcurdling moan, she caused the sheet to drift by slowly making a sweep with her arms, then backed into the room and shut the door.

  From her vantage point, Miranda clearly saw Mrs Patterson and Mrs George, who were bathed in the moonlight that flooded through the window. The ladies clutched each other and encouraged the other’s fear with almost hysterical screams.

  Swiftly, Lucy ducked through the maids’ room and threw the sheet at the bed. She locked the adjoining door and pulled open the one from their bedroom to the hall, so both of them were clearly seen. ‘We heard screams! Has something happened?’

  Almost incoherent, Mrs Patterson pointed a quivering finger to the door to the maid’s room. ‘Did you see that?’

  ‘See what? What on earth’s the matter?’

  ‘A … s–spector.’

  Miranda couldn’t help but say, ‘The inspector … what inspector? Do you mean Simon Bailey, the customs officer?’

  ‘No, I don’t mean Simon Bailey. A ghost. It was horrible, with no head. It was floating in the doorway.’

  ‘With blood dripping from a wound in its head,’ Mrs George added. She shuddered.

  ‘But Mrs Patterson said it didn’t have a head,’ Miranda pointed out.

  Mrs George glared at the lawyer’s wife. ‘I distinctly saw a head. It was under the creature’s arm.’

  ‘How exciting,’ Lucy breathed, ‘I do hope it returns so we can see it, too. Don’t you, Miranda?’

  ‘Not in particular.’ The joke had gone far enough, she thought. ‘I think it’s time we retired. I doubt if the apparition will return.’

  ‘There it is.’ The woman pointed to the stairs, where a light was ascending, and they clutched each other again.

  ‘Goodness, do calm down; it’s only Mrs Pridie.’

  ‘Is everything all right? I heard somebody shout,’ the housekeeper said as she neared the top.

  ‘The two ladies appear to have seen an apparition.’

  Mrs Pridie’s lips twitched. ‘It was probably a reflection of one of the trees coming through the landing window, and the light and shade reflected in it.’

  ‘Exactly as I thought,’ Mrs Patterson said and snorted. ‘Ghost indeed, and with its head under his arm, dripping blood! Where is this blood, pray? The floor’s quite clean. You must have imbibed too much sherry, Mrs George. Goodnight, ladies.’ She turned away, heading for her room.

  ‘I know what I saw,’ Mrs George muttered rebelliously.

  ‘I saw something once, too.’ Mrs Pridie hesitated and lowered her voice. ‘I could have sworn there was a woman standing on the landing, just about where you are now, Mrs George. But, then, I daresay Sir James was right, and it was a curtain blowing in the wind.’

  Touching the back of her neck, Mrs George shivered and headed for her room at speed.

  Mrs Pridie followed the sisters into their bedroom. Going into the maid’s room, she picked up the sheet and, folding it carefully, she placed it in the wardrobe. She smiled at them. ‘It seems as though the apparition has lost its robe. I’ll pretend I didn’t see this if you promise not to do such a silly thing again, Miss Lucy.’

  ‘How did you know it was me, when it might have been Miranda?’

  ‘Your sister is older, and she has more sense, thank goodness. Though you should have stopped her, Miss Jarvis.’

  ‘Miranda couldn’t stop me; she was creased up with laughter. I haven’t heard her laugh that much for ages. Usually, she creeps around like a worried mouse.’

  ‘It was funny,’ Miranda admitted, a smile coming and going, ‘especially when you told Mrs George the tale of the ghost on the stair.’

  ‘And who said it was a tale? Sometimes funny things happen that you can’t explain, and when you least expect it.’

  ‘Anyway, they said some horrid things about us, so they deserved being given a bit of a scare. Mrs Patterson said Miranda was a minx and I played the piano badly, and that we’d come to no good.’

  ‘And you will if you don’t behave yourselves. You must be getting tired, so get ready for bed. I’ll come up in a little while to check on you. Sir James said you can have a last cup of punch. I’ll bring it up.’

  ‘Mrs Pridie,’ Lucy said when she reached the door. ‘Where is Sir James’s dispensary? Would he show it to us?’

  ‘It’s just off the kitchen in the scullery. He might show you, though he keeps it locked.’

  ‘I heard it was down in the cellars, and he kept snakes and spiders down there.’

  Mrs Pridie smiled. ‘You shouldn’t listen to rumours, and I doubt if he’d allow you down there.’

  ‘Have you been in them?’

  ‘No child – and don’t you go poking around looking for snakes and stuff.’ She laughed. ‘Such ideas you get, Miss Lucy. It will be dragons you’ll be after seeing next. Those cellars are extensive and you’d soon get lost.’

  After Pridie had gone, Lucy gazed at Miranda and offered her a mischievous smile.

  ‘Definitely not!’ Miranda said, and she meant it.

  Thirteen

  The next morning, the house was enclosed in a cloud of mist that had come in from the sea.

  Miranda was glad to see the back of Sir James’s guests. There had been no mention of ghosts at breakfast, or of untoward events taking place. It was as if the light of day had banished any supernatural thought back into the shadows where it belonged. Both women wore rather sheepish expressions and were over-polite; they avoided looking at each other.

  Soon they and their husbands were gone.

  Fletcher managed to catch a moment alone with Miranda and briefly kissed her. ‘I adore you,’ he whispered in her ear.

  Sir James called Fletcher and they went off to inspect the ruined walls in daylight. Sir James came back by himself, with the news that the body of the keeper had been found beneath the tumbled stones.

  ‘Will you rebuild the wall?’ Miranda asked, her heart beating fast as she rarely enquired as to Sir James’s business.

  ‘Do you think I ought to, then?’

  ‘It seems a waste of time, money and life, if somebody’s going to keep blowing it up,’ Lucy commented.

  ‘Which is the first comment I’ve heard this morning that makes any sense, though you will learn in time that life is cheap. However, a man must defend his castle against marauders who would take it from him by force. Fletcher was the one most affected
by the gate and wall going up. He assured me he knows nothing about what happened, and he’s said he’s going to question his staff.’

  Miranda looked up at him with dismay. ‘Surely you don’t suspect that your own nephew lied to you.’ She remembered what had occurred the evening before and she gazed down at her hands. ‘But, then, of course you do, or you wouldn’t have tried to kill him.’

  Sir James’s eyes glistened. ‘Fletcher was too sure of himself and I was giving him a fright.’

  ‘Your intention was written clearly in your eyes, Sir James. Fletcher Taunt is a grown man and he deserves to be treated as one.’

  ‘We are none of us perfect, but killing someone is not an easy thing to do when one has raised that someone from babyhood. Believe me, my dear, I’d stop short at murdering my own kin in cold blood.’

  Miranda couldn’t understand where her sudden burst of rebellion came from. It was as if love was making her reckless. ‘It was hardly cold blood; you were in a temper and your blood was definitely on the boil. I was afraid for him.’

  ‘As I saw, and may I say that your blood was a little overheated, too, my dear. It still is. Anyone sitting at the table could see the regard in which Fletcher held you. Trying to avoid each other made it more apparent. How prettily you blushed and responded to him. It was quite obvious you’d met him before. You really shouldn’t have lied to me about that, especially considering the present circumstances. It wasn’t polite, and I won’t be made a fool of.’

  ‘I haven’t lied about anything.’

  Lucy was wide-eyed. Although young, she had a sharp mind and she didn’t like loose ends. She would sift and analyze the conversation and arrange it to fit a circumstance, like a piece in a jigsaw. Now she said artlessly, even while she knew very well what was being alluded to, ‘What circumstances are those?’

  Miranda had a sudden sense of danger, and knew she had to get away from the house before this developed into a fully fledged argument. It would be one she couldn’t win.