The Body in the Ice

by A. J. MacKenzie

  ‘So it wasn’t moonshine after all,’ said William thoughtfully. ‘Well. I think I would like to see the secret cellars of my house. Do any of you care to join me?’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ said Emma, full of enthusiasm. ‘And Mrs Vane; surely you will join us? The stair is narrow and rough, but Samuel will help you.’

  ‘Oh, I will come too!’ said Laure, following. At the head of the stair, Edward turned to Mrs Chaytor and bowed. ‘Shall we join them?’

  Mrs Chaytor looked down the dark stair, and then back at Edward, who was smiling blandly. She met his eyes, searching his gaze, but there was nothing to be read in his face. Reluctantly, she gathered her skirts, stepped through the doorway and began to descend the stair. Edward followed close behind her.

  These cellars were large, much larger than the others. As she stepped from the bottom step to the brick floor she saw there were at least ten vaulted rooms running nearly the length of the house.

  And then she saw, too, the real secret of New Hall. The cellar rooms were full. Long wooden crates lay piled on the floor, beside bundled shapes under canvas. And behind them, stacked from floor to ceiling in row after row, ton after ton, were dozens of wooden kegs of gunpowder.

  Chapter 19

  The Courage of Rodolpho

  ‘But what is all this?’ said William, his eyes wide. He turned on Edward, the candle flickering in his hand. ‘What are these things? Why are they hidden in my house, with me knowing nothing of it?’ Samuel and Emma were blank-faced with incomprehension; Calpurnia stood with her hand to her mouth.

  ‘What is this place? It is an armoury,’ said Edward. He moved forward and kicked one of the wooden crates, holding up the second candle. ‘That holds twenty Charleville muskets packed in grease, and there should be about a hundred more crates like it. There’s some boxes of spare flints somewhere too, and musket balls.’

  He pulled aside the canvas cover of one of the objects, revealing a cannon barrel lying on the floor. ‘That’s a bronze six-pounder. Not much use like this, of course, but a good joiner and wheelwright between them can build a gun carriage in a few hours. There’s enough down here for two batteries, with shot and bags of grape. And of course, enough powder to start a small war. Which,’ he said reflectively, ‘is exactly what it was meant to do. Will, old fellow, don’t stand too close to those powder kegs with your candle, I beg you.’

  ‘You knew . . .’ said William. ‘You knew all along this was here.’

  ‘I did,’ said Edward. ‘I’ve known about this place for years. Father and Uncle Joe let me in on the secret a long time ago.’

  Mrs Chaytor turned to him. ‘Who put this here?’

  ‘Do you remember 1779?’ asked Edward. ‘A big French and Spanish fleet came up along the south coast of England, carrying an invasion army.’

  ‘I remember,’ said Mrs Chaytor. ‘It caused a panic at the time. But the fleet was driven off by bad weather, and then the Royal Navy intervened.’

  ‘It was a near run thing, though, wasn’t it? If those French troops had got ashore, there wasn’t much to stop them marching on London.’

  ‘And what is the connection between that incident and New Hall?’ she asked.

  Edward laughed and took a step back. Just at his shoulder there was a small wooden cupboard, fixed to the wall. A length of something that looked like thin rope hung down beside it. ‘My dear Mrs Chaytor, New Hall was vital to the invasion. My father and uncle planned the whole thing, along with a cousin of ours, Camille de Foucarmont. Yes; the very same whom you shot the other night. He was already rather displeased with you, by the way; he’ll be even more angry now. Monsieur de Foucarmont came over to America with Lafayette, and was involved in spying work; that’s how he met Father and Uncle. He described the plans to invade England, and Father at once suggested the secret cellars at New Hall would be just the thing for their purpose. The plan was to have plenty of ordinance on hand, you see, when the French landed, so they could replace lost or damaged muskets and munitions without having to ferry them from France.’

  ‘So Foucarmont returned to France and smuggled the weapons into the cellar, using directions given by your father,’ said Mrs Chaytor.

  ‘Exactly so, ma’am.’

  ‘And at the end of the war, left them here in case they should be needed again.’

  ‘Again, you are correct,’ said Edward, smiling. ‘It is ingenious, is it not? An entire arsenal of weapons hidden under the noses of the British authorities, ready for use at a few hours’ notice. And so now, with France and Britain at war again, Foucarmont came back to see if the weapons were still there.’

  ‘Why?’ said William. ‘To support a French invasion?’

  ‘No; to start a revolution in England. There are many Englishmen who sympathise with the republicans in France, and think it is high time this country had a revolution of its own. You may even have met some of them, Mrs Chaytor. With French backing, they would rise up against the government. Foucarmont would supply them with weapons from this armoury. An army of Free Englishmen would march on London, overthrow the king and proclaim a constitution.’

  ‘Of course they wouldn’t,’ said Mrs Chaytor. ‘They would be swatted away like flies by our own army. But that did not matter, did it? They would distract the government in London, which would be forced to send soldiers to Kent. And every man deployed here would be one soldier less to send to Ireland, where the French intend to land their invasion army. This was to be a diversion. Foucarmont and Parker and your father were quite content for a thousand, two thousand of their allies to die in Kent, if it brought victory in Ireland.’

  ‘And you!’ cried Laure. ‘You’re part of this, aren’t you? My own brother, my father, my uncle! This monstrous scheme; you intend to help carry it out!’ Beside her, Samuel and Emma remained absolutely still. Mrs Chaytor could see them from the corner of her eye; like her, they were watching everything around them with deep intent.

  ‘But we’re at peace with England now,’ said William. ‘The English are our friends!’

  ‘Don’t be a damned fool!’ snapped Edward. ‘Between republics and monarchies, there can never be peace! Look at France, at war with half of Europe! The kings and queens and emperors will never be happy until the republics are crushed. The only way to deal with them is to crush them in turn. Fight fire with fire! The war is not over, and will never be over, not until one side or the other has knelt in abject surrender.’

  ‘Then what has this to do with us?’ asked Mrs Chaytor. ‘You brought us down here by design, of course. The suggestion of a family reunion, with a few carefully chosen additional guests; the game of searching for the hidden cellars; the charade with the key; you have prepared all this very carefully. But to what purpose? Why did you want us to see all this?’ and she gestured to the weapons.

  ‘Well, Mrs Chaytor; perhaps I hoped to recruit you all to the cause. My sister and cousin are loyal Americans, surely. Samuel and Emma have no reason to love this country. And you, Mrs Chaytor; you are an intelligent, free-thinking woman. Surely you espouse the cause of freedom? Surely you understand that monarchies have had their day?’

  Samuel and Emma had stirred a little at the mention of their names. ‘That is not so,’ said Emma. ‘We have been more kindly treated in this country than where we were born.’

  ‘And I am a loyal subject of my king,’ said Calpurnia stoutly. She was shivering a little; she too could sense the tension in the air.

  ‘This is nonsense,’ said Mrs Chaytor coldly. ‘You summoned us here because you thought that we, along with Reverend Hardcastle, might already have learned about the arsenal.’

  ‘What? I knew nothing of any of this!’ cried Laure.

  ‘Ah,’ said Edward, ‘perhaps you did, and perhaps you didn’t. I couldn’t take a chance, you see. You and William wandering around tapping the walls and floors; what did you really discover, I wonder? And who did you tell about it? You have become very friendly with Mrs Chaytor; what secrets might you hav
e passed on to her? And William, you had a long talk with that interfering busybody the rector; what did you tell him? And my dear new-found cousins; what did you discover, rummaging around the house before we arrived? Mrs Vane, you are the rector’s sister, you share his house and you have an inquisitive mind; my guess is that whatever he knows, you know as well.’

  ‘Clearly you believe that we have betrayed your secret,’ said Mrs Chaytor. ‘We have not, but I doubt you will believe us. What then do you intend to do with us?’

  ‘Surely you must have guessed by now, Mrs Chaytor,’ said Edward in tones of reproof. ‘Why else would I have brought you down to the cellar?’ And he opened the little wooden cupboard, reached inside it and pulled out a double-barrelled pistol, which he raised, cocking both hammers.

  ‘For God’s sake!’ said William.

  ‘Eddy!’ screamed Laure. ‘You cannot do this! I am your sister!’

  ‘Oh, God, don’t I know it, and don’t I hate it! Look at you, with your books and your music and your intellectual pretensions, trying to pretend how pure you are. Not for you the dirt and the muck of politics and war, oh no; you’re too pristine for all that, aren’t you? I show you the weapons that will bring freedom to this country, and what do you say? Oh, this monstrous scheme!’ he mimicked. ‘You make me sick,’ he shouted at her and she recoiled, taking several steps back, her face white with horror and fright. ‘You make Father sick too, and Uncle Joe! They tried to marry you off, get you out of the way, away from us, but again, no, you’re too prissy to marry anyone who isn’t perfect. You’re a damned burden! A nuisance and disgrace to the family, and I’ll be glad to see you dead.’

  ‘And you,’ continued Edward, rounding on William. ‘You talk well, don’t you? You parrot all the fine phrases about liberty and equality and the brotherhood of man, but you’re not prepared to get your hands dirty either, are you? You’re quite happy to preach revolution as a shining idea, but let someone show you its dirty face, and you quail away. You think war is some kind of chivalric quest, with rules, and honour, and courtesy to beaten foes. You’ll never make a warrior because you don’t understand that a battle is only over when your enemy lies dead with your knife in his heart. You’re weak, cousin,’ he said venomously, ‘weak and feeble and useless. I’ve done with you.’

  Betrayed by the man whom he had idolised and emulated, William Rossiter exploded into anger. ‘You bastard!’ he shouted, starting forward with raised fists, only stopping when Edward aimed the pistol at his head. Slowly, sullenly, William lowered his hands. Amelia Chaytor watched Edward’s face, and saw the affable veneer bubble and crack, and the hate and madness come pouring from his eyes. She saw Samuel and Emma watching him too, their eyes steady. I know the look on their faces, a little corner of her mind whispered. I have seen it before, in hunting hawks.

  ‘Weak, as I said,’ observed Edward. ‘The rest of you will note that this pistol is primed and loaded. Should you think of doing anything stupid, like challenging me, two of you will die. Decide among yourselves who those two will be.’

  ‘None of us will challenge you,’ said Amelia quickly, in case either of the young men – or Emma – should think of doing so. Calpurnia stood rooted to the spot. ‘But as you appear to know all the details of the plot, Mr Rossiter, perhaps you can tell me something. Who killed Emma’s servant? Parker? Or was it Steele, the valet?’

  Edward looked at her, hefting the pistol a little. He was enjoying himself, delighting in the power he had over them all. He too parrots fine phrases about liberty, she thought, but underneath, he is just a bully who likes killing people.

  ‘I don’t see why not,’ he said after a moment. ‘None of you will leave this cellar anyway, so no harm will be done. I killed her. We put Steele to watch the rooming house in London, and when he reported that two men had left and taken post for Kent, I assumed one of them was Samuel. I followed them here and slipped into the house on Christmas afternoon. I spotted a black man going upstairs, and assumed that I had Samuel in my sights. I thought of shooting him, then thought better of it and used a club instead.

  ‘I thought he was dead,’ Edward said, almost accusingly. ‘He, or rather she, should have been. The black bitch must have had a bloody hard head. Anyway, I went back to check to see whether the secret door had been opened, and then had a look around to see if I had left anything behind that might give me away. When I came back, the body was gone. I went outside and found her lying in the pond, clearly done. But I had also heard horses leaving, so I knew I had to get away before whoever it was came back.

  ‘I returned to London feeling quite satisfied; a job well done, I thought. You can imagine my surprise when I opened the paper and saw a woman had been killed. So, I assumed I must have disposed of my dear cousin Emma instead. Never mind, I thought, one down. Time to finish the other later.’

  ‘You are a murderer,’ said Laure in a whisper.

  ‘Oh, do shut up,’ said Edward in irritation. ‘I am quite tired of listening to you.’ Laure stood still, her face suddenly wet with tears; Emma came up and put an arm around her, still staring unblinking at Edward. Her body freezing cold, Mrs Chaytor gave a shiver that had nothing to do with temperature. She wondered if Edward had any idea what he was facing.

  ‘You have overlooked one thing,’ said Samuel, speaking for the first time since they had entered the cellar. ‘Reverend Hardcastle knows as much as any of us. If you kill us, he will discover the truth.’

  ‘Yes, I had intended for Hardcastle to be here as well,’ said Edward. ‘But never mind; I’ll take care of him later. I doubt that drunken old sot will give me much trouble. Once he is dead, all the loose ends will be tied up.’

  ‘There is another thing you have overlooked,’ said Mrs Chaytor. ‘There are six of us, and you have only two shots in that pistol.’

  ‘Oh, Mrs Chaytor. You are an intelligent woman; use your imagination! The gunpowder, don’t you see? Of course, thanks to you and the rector, the plot is compromised. Foucarmont has had to retire to France, and the rising is called off. There will be other chances, but meanwhile, things in Romney Marsh are a bit too hot. Volunteers and Preventive Men prowling around, that damned interfering fool Clavertye poking his nose in; and of course, that old soak Hardcastle managed to stumble quite close to the truth. He confronted Uncle Joe, and convinced him the entire plot was about to be discovered. Uncle Joe got the jitters, so badly that we had to silence him in case he decided to blab. I told Steele to find Foucarmont, and they did the job between them. But the problem still remains. Sometime, probably very soon, someone will stumble across this armoury. We cannot let all this material fall into British hands, and it is too risky to move it, even by night. So, we will destroy it. And, along with the weapons and the powder will perish the witnesses who know the secret.’

  ‘I see,’ said Mrs Chaytor, her voice calm. ‘And these are your father’s orders?’

  ‘No, no. He merely told me to get rid of the arsenal. Blowing it up, and you along with it, was a little stroke of genius of my own.’

  ‘No,’ said Laure in a small voice. ‘No, Eddy, you cannot do this.’

  ‘I can,’ said Edward. He held the pistol in his right hand and the candle in his left. Now he gestured at the length of thin rope. ‘This is slow match, a hemp cord soaked in saltpetre. When I light this end, the flame will run along the rope until it reaches the powder. It’s called “slow match”, but it will reach the other end quite quickly, within a couple of minutes at most. That will give me time to get out of the house and get clear.’

  ‘What about your aunt?’

  Edward laughed. ‘Auntie Jane is a good soldier, like me. She has been in on this affair from the beginning. Like Uncle Joe, she has been one of Father’s loyal lieutenants for years. She knows of my plan, and is already out of the house, waiting for me. In the commotion, we’ll get away. As far as anyone else knows, we’ll have left the house long before the explosion.’

  He truly is mad, Mrs Chaytor thought. On
e could not detonate five tons of gunpowder in the middle of Romney Marsh without someone starting a formal investigation. The servants would know that there were still people in the house when they left, and eventually some of them would talk. But by then, for the six of them, it would be too late. Horrified, she watched as Edward touched the candle flame to the slow match. It caught light, hissing like a little snake, and a ball of flame began to travel up the cord towards the ceiling.

  ‘The slow match was laid long ago,’ said Edward conversationally, ‘so that the armoury could be blown up quickly if there was a threat of discovery. There was a fear that if the match was laid along the floor, damp would seep in. So they found a way of running it behind the bricks above the ceiling. It is quite ingenious. What a pity you will not be alive to appreciate it.’

  ‘No,’ cried Laure, sobbing. ‘No, no!’

  William, Samuel and Emma all stood watching Edward, their bodies tense, waiting for any chance at all. None came.

  ‘And now,’ said Edward cheerfully, ‘I fear I must leave you. Farewell. Enjoy the rest of your lives.’

  From overhead came the sound of a slamming door, and the unmistakable noise of a key turning in a lock and being withdrawn.

  ‘Auntie!’ called Edward sharply. ‘Are you still here? You must get out, my dear. I’ve lit the slow match, and I am coming up directly to join you.’

  ‘You will stay where you are!’ shouted Jane Parker. ‘I have locked the door and taken the key. Stay down there and burn, you evil whelp, and suffer all the agonies of hell!’

  The ball of flame was nearly at the ceiling, out of reach.

  ‘Aunt Jane!’ shouted Edward, suddenly desperate. ‘Please! Let me out!’

  ‘Let you out? Why? You killed my husband! I loved him, and you killed him, and I hate you! Damn you!’ she screamed with fury, ‘Damn you!’

  Edward began to panic. His forehead was suddenly wet with sweat, his lips parted, his chest heaving.

  ‘No!’ he screamed. ‘I never touched him! It was Foucarmont!’