by Joan Smith
“I was referring to the little argument you overheard in the hallway,” she admitted. “Mr. Ramsay is a neighbor and dear friend. We rally each other and sometimes get carried away.”
He smiled forgivingly and quit the topic. “I fear that poor old lady has fallen victim to Captain Johnnie. What a plague the man is. It’s shocking that nothing’s done about him. I have to travel the heath often myself and go in trepidation of my money—to say nothing of my life.”
Esther, listening closely, sensed a good customer, if he traveled this way often. “Shocking,” she agreed readily. “I should see how the victim is doing.”
Lady Brown exited from the study at that moment. “She’s come to,” she announced with an air of relief. “It was Captain Johnnie’s work, certainly.”
“I shall speak to Bow Street next time I’m in London,” Mr. Meecham said firmly. “They should step up the patrols on Hounslow Heath.”
Esther presented him to her aunt. Lady Brown seemed unimpressed, perhaps because she was busy looking around for Mr. Ramsay. “Where is Joshua? He was going to take us home,” she reminded her niece.
“The tall gentleman you were speaking to?” Mr. Meecham inquired. “I noticed him leave the hall as we came out of the office. I believe he’s dining now.”
Esther’s anger was on the point of boiling over, to be so ill-treated in front of a handsome young client. To add to her mood, Lady Brown went into one of her tirades.
“You have given him a disgust of you, loitering about the inn at this hour, talking broad. And how are we to get home?”
“I would be happy to escort you,” Mr. Meecham offered at once. “I’ll call my carriage.”
He wasn’t to be left with the impression that they were carriageless. “We only live a step away. A footman will escort us,” Esther said.
“Jack’s gone off in the gig for a doctor,” Lady Brown pointed out.
“Good gracious, there are a dozen boys running around.”
“But I would be very happy to escort you,” Mr. Meecham insisted.
The talk during the short walk was all about Captain Johnnie. Mr. Meecham won Lady Brown’s favor by his condemnation of the Royal Scamp and promptly lost it again when he hinted that he would be honored to be allowed to call on the ladies the next day.
“Very kind, but we never receive strangers, Mr. Meecham,” Lady Brown said firmly.
Unfazed, he replied, “Then I shall return to the inn and see if I can render any service to the unfortunate couple who were set upon by the highwayman.”
“How very kind. Thank you, Mr. Meecham," Esther said warmly, for she thought Lady Brown was rather exceeding her authority. And besides, Mr. Meecham was really very attractive.
When the ladies entered their saloon, Lady Brown immediately began to berate their escort. “That is the very sort of incident that gives Joshua a disgust of your running the inn, Esther. How contrary it is that he should have come bounding in just as we left.”
“If he had escorted us home as he said he would, this incident would not have occurred,” Esther pointed out. “Mr. Meecham was very polite. I think you were a little short with him, Auntie.”
“A gentleman does not consider himself on calling terms only because he has lent a hand in a little emergency, my dear. You do not have the advantage of having been presented and having learned the niceties of polite behaviour. I daresay in the country such jumped-up manners pass, but they do not do at court.”
“Well,” Esther pointed out, “we are not at court, and I think Mr. Meecham was well behaved.”
Before they fell into any further altercation, Lady Brown retired, just mentioning that she would not be undressing for an hour, and if Mr. Ramsay happened to stop by en route to the Abbey, she would be available to play propriety. As Mr. Ramsay didn’t stop by, Esther soon went to her own room.
Chapter Three
It wasn’t till the next morning that Joshua Ramsay stopped at the dower house, and to the surprise of both ladies, he was accompanied by Mr. Meecham. Lady Brown blushed and said, “Why, Joshua, I had no idea you were a friend of Mr. Meecham.”
“As it turns out, we have several mutual friends,” Joshua explained, “though we didn’t meet till this morning when I went to the inn to hear about Captain Johnnie’s latest victims. Mr. Meecham was at Harrow with my cousin and knows some of my cousins from Devonshire as well.”
“We’re delighted to welcome you, Mr. Meecham.” Lady Brown smiled and sent off for coffee, to make up for the preceding night’s curt dismissal.
Mr. Meecham displayed not the least offense. “We thought you might be interested to hear about the victims—Sir Charles and Lady Higgins,” he said.
“We have been on thorns all morning,” Lady Brown confessed.
Joshua took over the telling of the story. “The reason the couple arrived on foot at the inn is that Captain Johnnie, after relieving Sir Charles of his purse and his dame of her jewels, set their horses free. The horses bolted, leaving the couple stranded on the heath.”
“Then it cannot have been Captain Johnnie,” Esther exclaimed. “He would never be so ungallant.”
“A gallant thief is a contradiction in terms,” Joshua informed her. “You might as well say a clever moonling, or dark sun, but it will take a wart on his nose or a squinty eye for you to admit the man’s a yahoo. He didn’t find as much blunt as he hoped to, and the wife had very few jewels about her. Only a little watch and her wedding rings. He poked the crown out of Sir Charles’s hat, thinking he had something hidden in it, then dumped the contents of his wife’s reticule on the ground. That is when he discovered she had her diamonds sewn into its lining. In revenge he made them turn their horses loose, and fired off a shot to be sure they didn’t linger nearby. He held his gun at Sir Charles’s head, so there was no arguing with him.”
“It doesn’t sound like Captain Johnnie. He makes the men crawl under the carriage. Did he harm Lady Higgins at all?” Esther asked.
“Not really,” Joshua said. “He pulled her out of the carriage pretty roughly and shoved her aside when he took the reticule from her, but he didn’t strike her. At least he did not add insult to injury by kissing her, as he has the reputation of doing.”
“I take issue with that!” Esther objected. “Robbing Lady Higgins of her kiss was the worst insult he could have devised. I daresay her age, not much below sixty, might account for it.”
“It’s a wretched mistake to glorify villains,” Mr. Meecham declared.
As Esther studied him, she noticed that despite his handsome face and flashing brown eyes, he had something of Joshua’s stiff and authoritative manner. “Was the highwayman alone?” she asked. “They say he travels alone—foolish of him, if he does.”
“There was no one but himself,” Meecham told her. “He has it down to a fine art.”
There wasn’t much to add to the story. The constable had been called and waited till daylight before venturing on the heath to look for clues.
“The carriage had been relieved of its luggage during the night,” Joshua said, “but no one holds the Royal Scamp responsible for such low pilfering. He is not the only robber on the heath by any means. The team was gone, too. It was an expensive night for Sir Charles. I’m going into London to pester Townsend to set up a heavier patrol on the heath. There should be notices in the press as well, for travelers not to tackle the spot unguarded. England has come to a fine pass when the only recourse is to limit the freedom of the innocent.”
“Be sure to add a line in that notice as to where travelers can find a good meal en route, Joshua,” Esther said.
“If you call stone-dry beef a good meal,” he riposted.
“I most particularly hinted you away from the beef! How exactly like you to order the one dish I told you not to.”
The visit was brief, but before it was over, one item of interest was accomplished. It happened right after Joshua mentioned that Mr. Meecham was taking lunch with him at the Abbey. Mr. Meech
am was cordially asked by Lady Brown how long he was putting up at the inn, and when he mentioned a few weeks, he was invited to call on them.
“Why, thank you, ma’am. Now that we are no longer strangers, I shall avail myself of your kind invitation.” He bowed and shot a triumphant, laughing smile at Esther. It was a look that spoke volumes. It revealed to her that Mr. Meecham possessed that necessary item, a sense of humor after all. Best of all, it hinted at an interest in getting to know her better. And though the smile didn’t convey it, the fact that he was putting up at the inn revealed him to have some money.
“A little holiday, is it?” Lady Brown inquired, her nose quivering for news.
“More than that. I am doing a little business on the side, if I can persuade Joshua to indulge me.”
The ladies were naturally interested to hear more. Joshua gave a quelling look to Meecham, who was looking at Esther, and remained oblivious. He continued, “We are going to have a look at the Pilchener place this afternoon.”
Before Lady Brown could phrase a question, Joshua rose and said, “We’d best be going now, Meecham.”
The only person left with whom she could discuss the mystery was her niece. “What business could Joshua and Meecham have in common? Pilchener’s place is up for sale, but it’s huge,” Lady Brown said. “Joshua could never afford to buy it. Perhaps Mr. Meecham is more interesting than we thought. He does not look rich,” she added, revealing what caused the new interest. “I wonder if he will buy Pilchener’s estate.”
After a fruitless discussion Esther decided to take a stroll by the Thames, with her prettiest parasol to protect her face from the sun, a shawl against the cool breezes, and her best morning gown in case she chanced to meet Beau Fletcher. It was there that she finally made his acquaintance.
She became aware he was following her as soon as she began her turn along the gravel path that edged the river. When she stopped to look across at the far side, where a pleasure craft was being put into the water, he stopped a few feet behind her. When she progressed to admire the swans, he did likewise. When she continued her stroll, he was not more than two steps behind her. There was a barge in the water, towing some abandoned craft. It made an excuse to stop and let him pass, for she was curious to observe him, as he had been observing her.
Instead of passing, he stopped and raised a telescope to look at the barge. That was unusual enough that it seemed natural to look at him. Before he had it at his eye for two seconds, he took it down and looked at her, then held up the telescope, as though to offer her a look.
“She seems to be listing to starboard,” he said, in the casual way of strangers who had met by chance.
“I wonder what’s the matter with it,” Esther answered with mild interest. Of course there was more than mild interest in her bosom.
Mr. Fletcher proved very handsome on close examination and seen head-on. If a talented young lady sat down with paint and brush to put her dream lover on canvas, she would come up with something very much like Mr. Fletcher. He was tall and dark, his complexion weathered to tan from the elements. Knowing him for a retired sailor, Esther credited his interesting shade to the wind of stormy seas and the sun of tropical climes. His eyes were a bright blue, glowing with health and animal energy, and with perhaps a hint of flirtation to add the coup de grace.
Even his tailoring improved on closer inspection. His superfine jacket fit like paper on the wall, an effect achieved by only the best London tailors. His shirt was immaculate, starched to a T; a waistcoat of finely striped blue and yellow covered his chest. He was tall and rather slender—elegant was the word that occurred to her. If his lips opened to reveal a gap-toothed smile, it would be a crime.
“Her!” he said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“We call ships her, not it. They are temperamental, hard to command, yet worth every effort—obviously feminine.” He smiled. No gap marred his perfect smile.
“You sound like a sailor,” Esther replied innocently.
“Mr. Fletcher, formerly captain of the HMS Glory.” He made a military bow, but with more grace than most military men could muster. Even his voice was unexceptionable—deeply resonant, with the ring of authority in it.
Such sticklers as Joshua Ramsay would raise a brow to see the introduction being carried out without the presence of a mutual acquaintance. Esther assuaged her conscience that the name of Lady Brown would soon be in the air between them to lend propriety.
She smiled and nodded in acknowledgment of his speech, but did not return the compliment. Undeterred, he pressed on with trying to discover her name. “Would you like to have a look through this?” he asked, proffering the telescope and using it as an excuse to come closer.
She said, “Thank you,” and raised it to look at the barge, which was of no more interest to either of them than a leaf hanging on a tree. “I can’t see very well,” she said, and handed it back.
“You have to adjust the lens,” he explained, and pulled off his York-tan gloves. His gloves were lovely, his hands more so, the fingers long and tapered, well-manicured. He fiddled with the protruding rings and handed the telescope back. Their fingers brushed, lending an unexpected tinge of intimacy to the endeavor. Esther’s parasol was in the way, and he took it from her with another smile. She looked at the barge long enough to denote some interest before handing the glass back to him.
He looked out on the water with his unaided eyes now. “They’re hauling her to dry dock to be re-rigged, I fancy.”
“Very likely,’ she agreed, and turned to leave, but she knew the meeting was not over.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“What? Oh, my parasol! Foolish of me.”
“Will you allow me to carry it for you?” he asked, and took a step, assuming that the answer, though tacit, was affirmative.
They proceeded past the end of Lowden Arms territory, and Esther decided to tease him a little. “Are you in the habit of trespassing, Mr. Fletcher?”
“On your time, do you mean, ma’am, or on your property."
“On my property.”
“But I am a guest at the hotel,” he answered, wrinkling his brow in confusion.
“This particular stretch of the river walk does not belong to the hotel. It belongs to that brick house up there," she said, and indicated the dower house, up several yards from the river. “And the house belongs to me.”
“You must be Miss Lowden!” he exclaimed. “Where there is a will, there is a way, you see. I noticed you didn’t offer your name when I so civilly gave you mine. Now I possess it without your help. Your umbrella, your name—next I shall be stealing your heart,” he cautioned, in a joking way.
“Are you a mind reader as well as a thief?” she asked, in the same spirit.
“Neither one nor the other, I promise you. We have a mutual friend, Miss Lowden. I had the pleasure of meeting your aunt yesterday morning during my stroll.”
As Mr. Fletcher was proving an unexceptionable flirt, Esther decided to let the acquaintance continue. “I hope you are finding everything satisfactory at the inn,” she said.
“I like it excessively. I had an excellent dinner there last night.”
“Last night?” she asked swiftly.
“No, I’m mistaken. Last night I dined at Windsor. It was the night before last.”
“I happened to dine at the inn myself last night,” she explained, lest he take the notion she already knew his itinerary.
“I understand more exciting things transpired at the inn last evening, I heard at breakfast there was a robbery.”
“Not at my inn! It happened out on the heath. The couple came here on foot. I wonder how poor Lady Higgins goes on.”
“She was full of vinegar at breakfast. The center of attention, all the guests commiserating with her. No, that’s not quite true. The younger ladies were jealous as green cows. It was the infamous Captain Johnnie who robbed her, they say. I don’t know how people can be so foolish as
to cross Hounslow Heath alone at night.”
“It was ill-advised. They must have been in a great hurry to get somewhere, I suppose.”
“They’re going to be mighty late. Sir Charles has just gone to the hiring stables to rent a team. That was gratuitous infamy on the Scamp’s part, to cut the team loose and make those poor old folks walk five miles in the dark of night.”
“Hardly what one would expect of an officer,” she agreed. “They say Captain Johnnie is an ex-army man, you know.”
“It’s hard to believe an ex-officer was responsible for last night’s escapade.”
“You don’t think it was Captain Johnnie, then? I tend to agree with you.”
“That was not my meaning. No doubt he is responsible. What I meant to say was that he never was an officer. He is a cowardly knave, a thief, and a robber.”
“I stick to my guns. Captain Johnnie would never treat a lady so shabbily,” she argued. “No doubt he is given credit for more robberies than he commits. That’s what is turning him into a legend. By the time Lady Higgins gets to her destination, she will be convinced not only that it was the Royal Scamp, but that she is in love with the rogue—be boasting of having attached him.”
“I shouldn’t be at all surprised. With my own ears I heard her story change three times over breakfast—and I’m a fast eater, too. First he was a scoundrel who roughed her up; then he was at least not so ungentlemanly as to have touched her; then, as I paid for my coffee, he had kissed her, just before he darted into the night, cape flying. She'll have had an offer of marriage before she gets home, certainly. That is how these legends spread.”
“Like so many of the world’s wrongs, it is the fault of ladies, in fact!”
“You are stuffing words in my mouth. A wish to cut a dash is a human failing, not restricted to the ladies. We seem to have reached the end of the gravel walk, Miss Lowden. Do we turn around and go back, or may I escort you home?”
“And rob me of a chance of being waylaid by the Royal Scamp?” she asked.