The Body in the Ice

by A. J. MacKenzie

  *

  The rector was up before daylight, and as soon as he had dressed he took his pistol from his desk, put it in his pocket and walked down the road into the village. The morning was bitterly cold, the fog continuing thicker than ever; every tree and stone and blade of grass was rimed with frost.

  Outside the front door of Sandy House, timbers nailed hastily over the splintered panels, Joshua Stemp stood with a fowling piece cradled in his arms, blowing on his hands to keep them warm.

  ‘We’ll keep watch until the volunteers come,’ he said. ‘There’s another of our fellows around the back.’

  ‘Has Hoad returned?’

  ‘Came back about an hour ago, and went off to get some sleep. They tracked the Frenchies a couple of miles to the south. Jack reckons there were four fellows, and he says one of ’em at least was bleeding like a stuck pig. But they lost ’em along one of the sewers. Pity we don’t have Lord Clavertye’s bloodhounds.’

  Four would make sense: Foucarmont, the two men who had been with him at Camber, and Steele, whom Mrs Chaytor had identified as being one of the attackers. What had really happened to Steele? It would seem obvious that he was the go-between, the carrier of messages between Parker and Foucarmont. But had he stood idly by while Foucarmont killed his master? Or had he been one of the killers?

  ‘Are the ladies still asleep?’

  ‘So far as I know. Is it true she pinged Foucarmont?’ Stemp chuckled. ‘She’s quite a lady. I bet old Bertrand would like to shake her hand.’

  THE RECTORY, ST MARY IN THE MARSH, KENT.

  11th February, 1797.

  By express.

  My lord,

  It is my duty to inform you of two incidents that took place last night. The first was the death of Mr Joseph Parker of Boston, brother-in-law of Mr Rossiter and resident at New Hall. The corpse was found at the ruined church at Hope. The assistant coroner concurs with me that Mr Parker was murdered. He had been struck from behind with a bludgeon, in the same manner as the young woman who was killed at New Hall.

  The second incident was a violent assault on Sandy House, the home of Mrs Amelia Chaytor. Fortunately the attack was driven off, and the lady herself suffered no harm. Mrs Chaytor positively identified Foucarmont as the leader of the attackers. It is my view that Foucarmont also murdered Mr Parker, with whom he has been having clandestine dealings for some time. Mr Parker’s valet, Steele, was one of the gang that attacked Sandy Hall, and may well be complicit in the murder of Mr Parker.

  Foucarmont and Steele were both wounded in the attack on Sandy House, as was at least one other man. Using the authority you have delegated to me, I am instructing the East Kent Volunteers to conduct a new search for he and his gang.

  I await your further instructions,

  Yr very obedient servant,

  HARDCASTLE

  THE RECTORY, ST MARY IN THE MARSH, KENT.

  11th February, 1797.

  By express.

  My dear Mr Rossiter,

  It is my sad duty to inform you of the death last night of your brother-in-law, Mr Joseph Parker. I have informed Mrs Parker, who is in the care of her family. I shall of course render her all the assistance and consolation in my power.

  I must also inform you that there is a distinct possibility Mr Parker was murdered. The coroner’s inquest, which will convene in a few days’ time, will undoubtedly confirm this. I have begun my investigations, and I will keep you apprised of any progress. Meanwhile, if you would favour me with an interview on the next occasion you are in St Mary, I would be most grateful.

  Please accept my very sincere condolences on this event. I know Mr Parker was not just your sister’s husband; he was also an old friend and comrade in arms. You will feel his loss keenly, I am sure. If I can be of any assistance or support to you, please do not hesitate to seek me out.

  Yr very obedient servant,

  REV. M. A. HARDCASTLE, J. P.

  Captain Austen arrived at mid-morning, and was shown into the rector’s study. The rector rang the bell and Biddy appeared at once, curtseying as usual. ‘Will you take coffee?’ the rector asked him.

  ‘Thank you, but I won’t stay. Your man Stemp told me what has happened. What are your orders, sir?’

  ‘I will have coffee,’ the rector told Biddy, and she bobbed out, closing the door behind her. ‘Foucarmont has three men with him, some of them badly injured,’ he said to the captain. ‘Foucarmont himself has also been wounded. They were last spotted heading south. My guess is they will try to get to the coast somewhere between Dungeness and Camber, and get away by boat. The French have used that route before.’

  ‘They will have a head start on us,’ warned Austen.

  ‘I know. This is merely a precaution, in case they decide to stay in the country after all. I will breathe more easily if I can know for certain that Foucarmont has left England.’

  Austen nodded. ‘And Samuel Rossiter?’

  ‘You may cease your search for him. I have a feeling Samuel Rossiter will be found when he wants to be found.’

  ‘Perhaps. We are not the only ones looking for him, though.’

  Hardcastle looked up. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘That fellow Edward Rossiter has been out looking for him too. I saw him two days ago, riding down one of the tracks near Newchurch, and didn’t think anything of it. But we spotted him again yesterday afternoon. He had dismounted and was bent over looking at something in the track – so intent he didn’t hear us until we were almost on top of him. I asked what he was doing, and he said he thought his horse might have thrown a shoe. But then he started asking questions about the search, where we had looked, whether we had seen any signs of our fugitive. All very casual, as if he was making polite conversation, but he listened intently to every word I said. Why should he want to find this Samuel fellow?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said the rector.

  Austen bowed and departed. The rector sat down behind his desk, staring at the flickering coal fire and thinking about Edward Rossiter. Biddy knocked and came in with his coffee, and he sipped it and then blinked a little in surprise. ‘This is excellent coffee,’ he said. ‘Please give my compliments to Mrs Kemp.’

  ‘Oh,’ said the little maid, and blushed. ‘I made the coffee, reverend.’

  ‘You did? It is very good. But I am surprised Mrs Kemp allows you the freedom of her kitchen. That is normally her exclusive domain.’

  ‘If you please, sir, and I hope you won’t mind, but I begged Mrs Kemp to put her feet up for a while, and let me look after things. She’s not a young woman, you see,’ the girl said anxiously, ‘and she gets so tired sometimes. I hope I have done right?’

  ‘Of course, Biddy, and you are a good girl to be so thoughtful.’

  The maid curtseyed and departed, and Hardcastle sat and counted in his mind. Coffee, answering the door to visitors, serving meals and drinks; four times out of five, when he rang the bell, it was Biddy who answered.

  A slow smile spread over his face. ‘Mrs Kemp,’ he said aloud. ‘You sly old fox!’

  *

  He called at New Hall later that morning to see how Mrs Parker was faring. Laure came out to meet him, clearly troubled.

  ‘Aunt is resting. Do you wish me to call her?’

  ‘No, please do not trouble her. Tell her I called, if you will. How is she?’

  ‘I do not think she slept much, if at all. She is very withdrawn, and speaks very little.’

  ‘That is natural.’

  ‘Reverend, this is all so dreadful. I heard too about the attack on dear Mrs Chaytor. Is it possible that the two events are in some way connected?’

  ‘It is possible.’ He would not tell her more, not while he felt unable to trust anyone at New Hall, Mrs Chaytor’s assurances about Laure notwithstanding.

  Back at the rectory he was restless, so much so that he could not sit still. The fog had largely cleared, and he put on his coat and picked up his stick and whistled for Rodolpho. The dog, apparentl
y unscarred by last night’s terrors, bounded across the fields with his usual glee, barking at birds. The rector tramped down to the sea and climbed the dunes, standing and glaring at the coast of France just visible in the thin remaining haze.

  He returned home in time for dinner, which he shared with Calpurnia. He had not seen her yet today; she had, as usual, risen very late. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked her as they sat down.

  ‘Well. A little fatigued. The events of last night were a great strain for all of us. Have you seen Mrs Chaytor or Miss Rossiter?’

  ‘They are resting— What did you say?’

  ‘That’s who Miss Latimer really is, isn’t it? You and Mrs Chaytor talked about her in front of me,’ said Calpurnia in slow-kindling wrath, ‘as if I was an idiot incapable of understanding.’

  ‘I don’t recall that we mentioned her name.’

  ‘You called her Emma. And even if you hadn’t, I can put two and two together,’ snapped his sister, ‘and add up to four. Now Mr Parker has been killed, and Monsieur de Foucarmont is on the run. But you are still no closer to knowing what it was all about, are you?’

  ‘I hardly need you to tell me that,’ he said sourly.

  ‘You need to find out what the secret of New Hall is. That must be your utmost priority. If you can find that, the rest of the mystery will unravel. I think you should interrogate the Rossiter family, all of them. One of them must know what the secret is.’

  The fact that he had come to this conclusion himself made her deduction and intervention all the more annoying. ‘Calpurnia, keep your nose out of this. I have warned you before about prying into my business. This is not one of your blasted novels, this is real life.’

  ‘Oh, I know, Marcus. I experienced real life at very close quarters, last evening. My life was in danger too, do you not recall?’

  He threw up his hands. ‘Yes, of course. I apologise.’

  She subsided a little. It was, in fact, the first time he had ever apologised to her, and she was savouring the experience.

  ‘I have had another thought,’ she said.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I said some time ago that you have been living on your own for too long. That is the reason, I am quite sure, why you are so ill-tempered and irritable. A woman’s touch would soften you. I think you should consider marrying.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You should take a wife. Find someone who will bring some light and sweetness into your dour life. In fact, I don’t think you need to look very far. There is a very suitable candidate already on your doorstep.’

  ‘Oh, dear God.’

  ‘I think,’ said Calpurnia, pursuing the thought inexorably to its end, ‘that Mrs Chaytor would make a most excellent wife for you, Marcus. I think you should consider very seriously making her an offer of marriage.’

  *

  Perhaps fortunately, there came a knock at the door. ‘It’s a runner from Captain Austen, reverend,’ said Biddy, appearing in the door and curtseying.

  Fuming, the rector went out into the hall and found Austen’s man waiting. ‘Captain’s compliments, sir, and he says to tell you we’ve tracked the French across to the southern coast,’ the man said. ‘They came out about a mile east of Camber. There were marks on the beach that showed where they had dragged a boat down to the shore and cast off. They must have had the boat hidden in the dunes.’

  ‘In case they needed to make a rapid escape,’ said the rector. ‘Did all four men board the boat?’

  ‘Looks like it, sir. The tide was coming in, but we could see enough of the footmarks to show that no one came back up the beach. It seems certain they’ve gone.’

  ‘So Foucarmont has gone,’ said the rector, half to himself. ‘That’s him done with . . . until the next time.’ And there would be a next time, unless he could work out what that subtle, clever and violent man had been up to, what had drawn him over and over again to Romney Marsh and New Hall.

  Not wishing to see his sister again, he retired to his study and poured a glass of port. No sooner had he done so than the door knocker sounded again. ‘For pity’s sake,’ he growled, ‘what now?’

  ‘What are you scowling at?’ asked Amelia Chaytor, coming into the study.

  ‘You will not believe this. My idiot sister has suggested that I make you an offer of marriage.’

  ‘Us?’ said Mrs Chaytor, opening her blue eyes in surprise. ‘Married? What an appalling idea.’

  ‘I thought you would think so. But I do not know whether to be relieved or offended by your reaction.’

  ‘A little of both in equal measure is probably the best course. I have had a letter about the Rossiters.’

  His irritation vanished. She opened her reticule and handed a folded piece of paper to him in turn.

  WOTTON HOUSE, WOTTON UNDERWOOD, BUCKINGHAMSHIRE

  7th February, 1797.

  My dearest Amelia,

  It was a very happy surprise to receive your letter after such a long interval. Anne is delighted that you are in correspondence once again, and joins me in insisting that you keep your promise to call on us either in London or in the country as soon as possible.

  You have asked me about the Rossiters. I am deeply curious to know the reasons behind your inquiry, but I shall respect your confidence. The Rossiter family is Dutch in origin. Nikolaus Roseter was a prominent member of the suite of King William when he crossed to this country in 1689. Like the Bentincks and other Dutch families, he served the king loyally and was rewarded with positions and land. There were large estates in Ireland, as well as lands and properties in various parts of England. He became very prosperous, though questions were asked as to exactly how that prosperity was obtained. At one point he was accused of smuggling, but as he continued high in the favour of King William and, later, Queen Anne, he was never prosecuted.

  His son William Rossiter nearly encompassed the family’s ruin. The young man embraced various forms of radical and anti-Hanoverian politics, culminating with his joining Prince Charles Stewart’s venture in 1745, along with his two sons. He escaped proscription after the revolt was suppressed, but only at the cost of a very heavy fine, which wiped him out. The Irish estates and most of the other properties were sold. Rossiter himself died two years after the rebellion.

  Both his sons migrated to America, I believe with the hope of recouping the family fortunes. However, James Rossiter also continued in his father’s footsteps by associating with radicals. He was known to our authorities before the revolt broke out as an agitator and trouble-maker. He went on to become one of our most dangerous opponents during the war.

  This is where my curiosity about your request is piqued, because Rossiter’s radical leanings have not dimmed. His politics are firmly Republican; that is to say, unlike the Federalists, who are largely Anglophiles and support good relations with Britain, he is of that faction that favours a rapprochement with France and an alliance of the two revolutionary powers, France and America, against Britain. I am told in confidence that his presence with the embassy is an annoyance to Mr King the ambassador, who is a strong Federalist, and believes Mr Rossiter was appointed to his suite to act as a spy for the Republicans.

  You are quite correct; he is very charming in person and does his best to make himself agreeable. However, I think Anne summed him up very well the other day. When you invite him to dinner, she said, count the spoons afterwards!

  I trust this information will be of some use to you, and remain wildly curious about the purpose behind your request. Idle female gossip! You! There was never such a thing.

  I remain yours fondly,

  WILLIE

  ‘It all fits together,’ said the rector. ‘Foucarmont is not the lynchpin. Rossiter is.’

  ‘And Parker and Foucarmont were the tools he used. Do you recall what Captain Austen said? Rossiter was the smooth one, who didn’t get his hands dirty. Parker was the one who wielded the bludgeon, or pulled the trigger.’

  ‘And now the bludgeon has be
en used against Parker. Did Rossiter sanction that killing? Did he order it? Did he realise his old friend Parker might be about to betray him, and decide to dispose of him?’

  ‘Rossiter is in London,’ Amelia reminded him.

  ‘Then someone here is carrying out his orders.’

  ‘Steele?’

  ‘It is possible. It would appear that he has fled along with Foucarmont.’

  She nodded. ‘He could hardly stay here, given the number of holes that Emma put in him. Someone would be bound to ask questions. Who else do you think is involved?’

  ‘Who else would he trust? It must be another member of the family. His wife we can rule out; Mrs Parker also. That means one of the young people, Edward, William or Laure must be involved.’

  ‘We can rule out Laure too, I believe.’

  ‘Then it is one of the young men. I must investigate them, and I will, whatever Lord Clavertye says. Edward, to outward appearances at least, is his father’s loyal supporter. But let us not forget that William abandoned his own father to join his uncle. He shares Rossiter’s political views; does he also follow Rossiter’s orders?’

  ‘Allow me to play devil’s advocate for a moment,’ she said. ‘Foucarmont has retired, presumably to France. All his men are dead, rounded up, or fled with him. The plot, whatever it is, has been foiled. Rossiter no longer has any reason to be at New Hall, and I would bet that the rest of the family will return to London within the week. Why now do you wish to stick your head into the hornet’s nest? Why not simply let them go?’

  ‘Because whatever drew them to New Hall remains there,’ he said. ‘And as long as it does so, Foucarmont and Rossiter will be tempted to return. And if they do, then you and I and many others will be in danger once again. We must settle this matter, completely, once and for all, or we will know no peace.’

  The knocker on the front door sounded yet again. ‘It is like Piccadilly today,’ the rector said sourly. They heard Biddy draw the bolts, and then she shrieked like a banshee. ‘Come quickly, reverend, sir! God love you, come quickly!’