The Fat Badger Society (Drusilla Davanish Mysteries Book 2)

by Dawn Harris

  ‘Wait?’ I exploded in exasperation.

  ‘Yes, my lady. He said he wished to see you on a matter of importance.’

  ‘Did he, indeed?’ And I drummed my fingers on the table.

  ‘I believe,’ Luffe warned in a respectful manner, ‘Mr. Hamerton has almost finished breakfast.’

  I threw my pen onto the desk. ‘Where have you put him?’

  ‘In the library, my lady.’

  ‘Tell him - no - I’ll see him myself.’ I was a little more in command of myself today, and saw the sense of not putting it off again.

  When I opened the door into the library Mr Reevers was standing looking out the window at the garden. He turned at once and smiled, his eyes softening. ‘Looks like thunder, don’t you think?’ He indicated the heavy black clouds overhead, and spoke in a bantering way of the risk of his being struck by lightning on the way home.

  I interrupted icily, ‘Mr Reevers, I am very busy this morning. What is it that you want?’

  He dropped his mocking tone and taking a letter from his pocket, handed it to me. ‘It’s from Mr Pitt. He asked me to deliver it with all possible speed.’

  Breaking the seal, I stood where I was and read the letter.

  My dear Lady Drusilla,

  First, I must assure you most sincerely that I do not attach any blame to you, Mr Reevers or Mr. East for the lack of success in finding evidence to prove whether or not Hamerton is the French agent known as Mr Brown. These agents can be notoriously hard to pin down, but I feel sure you will agree that, if Mr. Hamerton is to be arrested, we must do so before the King goes to Weymouth in August. Keeping the King safe for weeks on end in that town cannot be totally guaranteed. A day is easily achieved, a week perhaps. But after that, with the best will in the world, guards can become slack if everything is going on much as usual.

  In the beginning we did not flood the Isle of Wight with agents, fearing that if this group realised we knew they were on the Island, they would simply disappear one night, and we might never find them again. But time is running short, ma’am, and we must reconsider how best to gain the evidence we need, and flush out every member of this traitorous society.

  To that end, I wish you to meet Mr Dundas, His Majesty’s principal secretary of state for the Home department. He will be in Portsmouth next week throughout the celebrations for Howe’s great triumph over the French. Mr Reevers will inform you which day has been decided upon; he and Mr East are also to attend the meeting, when Mr Dundas will make a decision based on the information gathered so far. It may mean putting large numbers of agents on the Island after all, but that is for Mr Dundas to decide.

  I understand from Mr. Reevers that Richard Tanfield, who we believe to be involved with Mr. Hamerton, is well known to you all. Nevertheless, I am certain I can rely on you to set friendship aside and do what is right. Indeed, England’s very survival may depend on it.

  I am greatly obliged to you for your co-operation and courage in this business. I have reports on Mr. Hamerton from Mr. Reevers and Mr. East, but I would be grateful for your opinion too. The messenger will bring it to me at once, and I must strongly emphasise the need for haste now.

  He ended with the usual pleasantries, and when I had finished reading I folded the letter and asked Mr. Reevers if he knew was in it. ‘I do,’ he said.

  ‘Must I go to Portsmouth? Leaving the Island for a week when there is so little time to find these Fat Badgers doesn’t seem wise to me.’

  ‘Nor does ignoring an order from the man running the country. I have never done so myself. It always seemed a trifle ill-advised, and I doubt a spell in the Tower of London would appeal to you.’

  A gentle smile played on his lips, a smile I had seen so many times before that I almost smiled back. Instead I turned away, put the letter into my pocket and said I hadn’t thought of it like that, and naturally I would go. ‘I will write to the “George” today and bespeak rooms. I’m sure my uncle will escort me.’

  ‘I doubt you’ll find rooms at the “George.” The messenger tells me there’s not a bed to be had in Portsmouth under twenty guineas a night while the celebrations are on. But a friend of mine has a house that would suit you very well, and he’ll be in London that week. I’ll ask him, but please don’t mention it to anyone or the poor fellow will be besieged with offers.’

  I gave him my promise and hurriedly lowered my eyes, for he was looking at me in a way that turned my knees to water. And I babbled, ‘Where will you and Mr. East be staying?’

  ‘At Government House. Mr. Pitt has arranged rooms for us.’

  ‘You must be highly thought of.’

  ‘With Pitt, quite possibly. I wish it was the same with you.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure you do,’ I retorted, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

  Instantly he moved closer and begged, ‘For pity’s sake Drusilla, tell me what I’ve done.’

  I brushed that aside with a dismissive gesture. ‘I’m afraid you must excuse me. I have to write that report Mr. Pitt wants on Mr. Hamerton.’

  I went to reach for the bell pull for Luffe to see him out, but he was there before me, standing in the way. ‘You knew I meant to make you an offer yesterday, and your demeanour the day before led me to believe I could expect a favourable response. I’ve spent half the night racking my brains trying to recall what I could have said or done since then to cause you to put this brick wall between us, and I cannot think of a thing. Even a condemned man knows what crime he is accused of. Am I not at least entitled to that courtesy?’

  We were standing only a foot or so apart, and although I knew he did not truly care for me, I saw only pain and bafflement in his eyes. And despite everything I had learnt, my feelings for him were such that I longed, even now, to feel his arms around me. I told myself that would pass, and it would be easier once he realised he had no chance with me. Taking a deep breath I said in a suffocating voice, ‘Very well Mr Reevers. If you must know, I------’

  He was interrupted by Mr. Hamerton entering the room. ‘I thought I saw you riding up to the house, Mr. Reevers. There’s something I----’

  Mr Reevers spoke with an intensity I had never heard before. ‘Later, if you please. Lady Drusilla and I are discussing an urgent private matter.’

  Mr. Hamerton looked from Mr Reevers to me and back again. ‘Yes, of course. I do beg your pardon. Later, then.’ But as he headed for the door, my uncle entered the room, and I heard Mr Reevers groan.

  My uncle smiled benevolently at us all. ‘Goodness, everyone is about very early today.’

  Pulling himself together, Mr Reevers explained why he had called at such a time. ‘Howe’s great naval victory over the French is to be celebrated in Portsmouth next week. The King and Queen, and other members of the Royal Family will be there, along with ministers----’

  ‘Is Mr Pitt going?’ I asked.

  His eyes rested on me with an expression that almost undid me. ‘Probably not. Affairs of state are rather critical at present. But Dundas, Chatham and some others will attend, and----’

  ‘Dundas and Chatham, eh?’ my uncle said. ‘I met them when we lived in London. Pleasant fellows. They used to call Pitt’s elder brother the late Chatham, I remember --- as he was never on time for anything.’

  ‘They still do,’ Mr Reevers said. ‘He has a great brain but finds it more restful not to use it.’

  My uncle chuckled. ‘Yes, so I’ve heard. Still, as First Sea Lord he must use it now, surely. And Dundas is an able minister.’

  ‘The Home department suits him,’ Mr Reevers agreed. ‘He’s very involved too with the secret committee whose job it is to report on the corresponding societies.’

  ‘Is there to be a review of the fleet?’ Mr. Hamerton inquired with interest.

  ‘I believe so,’ Mr Reevers responded. ‘And a big celebration dinner with Howe, the ministers, admirals, captains, and local dignitaries. The King is staying four days.’

  ‘In that case,’ my uncle said, turni
ng to me, ‘shall we go over and join in the fun, Drusilla? I’m sure your aunt will want to go.’

  ‘That’s an excellent idea, Uncle.’ I was grateful not to have to find an excuse for going to Portsmouth, but he gazed at me for a long moment, his eyes narrowing in concern. It was never easy to fool my uncle, he always saw what my aunt did not, and he knew I was upset.

  When my aunt joined us, eager to learn what all the fuss was about, she needed no persuasion to go to Portsmouth. With so many of us gathered in the library, Mr Reevers gave up all further attempts to speak to me alone. Instead, he asked Mr. Hamerton what he had wanted to speak to him about earlier, and was told, ‘I’m planning a dinner party shortly after I move into my new house. I should very much like you and Mr. East to be there.’

  An invitation Mr. Reevers accepted, saying all that was proper. A little later I watched him ride off until he was out of sight, conscious only of what might have been, and discovered I’d dug my fingernails into the palms so deeply, I’d drawn blood. As I gazed at my hands tears slowly trickling down my cheeks. How was I going to stop my heart leaping at the sight of him? Marguerite’s letter ought to have made that easy, but it had not.

  I reminded myself I didn’t want to marry, that it was better this way, and I would remain in control of Westfleet and my own life. But, that prospect, once so vitally important, no longer had the same appeal, somehow. In desperation I told myself how much I loathed, hated and despised him. The difficulty with that was, I did not know how I was going to live without him.

  CHAPTER TWENTYTHREE

  I went back into the workroom to write the report Mr. Pitt urgently wanted on Mr. Hamerton. His belief that Mr. Hamerton would relax at Westfleet had proved sound, for I was sure he had. But, as Mr. Pitt had said in his letter, time was running out. August, the month the King usually went to Weymouth, was barely five weeks away. And a decision had to made. If Mr. Hamerton was to be arrested, the information I gave Mr. Pitt had to be absolutely correct.

  I wrote down my opinion of his character, the manner in which he had conducted himself at Westfleet, and every tiny detail I had discovered about him. In conversation he had not put a foot wrong. He spoke, and sounded, like any other patriotic English gentleman who, above all things, wanted to see England triumph over France. Some of his actions, however, seemed far from innocent. He’d asked Blackgang smugglers to take a letter to Paris, I thought he was going to shoot me when he appeared on the cliff top after I was attacked, and he’d met Mr. Silver at Westfleet church in the dead of night.

  I studied the wall chart I’d made in his name, showing the details that were not in question. John Hamerton was a widower, whose sister’s husband was close to Robespierre. His wife had been knocked down in the street, and the aristocrat responsible was later murdered. He’d attended a London Corresponding Society meeting, and arrived late in Windsor just after the assassination attempt on the King. Those were the facts, and facts did not lie.

  Beside his chart was the information Mr. Pitt had given me on Mr Brown. This traitor, spying for the French, had set up the Fat Badger Corresponding Society in order to start a French-style revolution in England. To which I’d added that Septimus believed Mr Brown was an English gentleman living in London. I expected such a man to appear to be patriotic, to know France well, and to speak their language fluently. As Mr. Hamerton did.

  Twice these fanatics had tried to kill me. First on the cliff top, and then during an apparent highway robbery. And I still did not know why they wanted me dead. Septimus, and George Jenkins, who joined the group believing their aim was peaceful electoral reform, were murdered in cold blood when they refused to be involved in assassination. And Mrs. Jenkins, fearing for the lives of her children, had fled to the mainland.

  I studied every piece of evidence I had, reading Septimus’s journal again, and the letters from Mr. Pitt and Mrs. Jenkins. But if the proof was there I could not see it. There being nothing more I could add, I read it through carefully, and signed it. If only I’d found something that would stand up in a court of law; something that would prove beyond doubt whether or not John Hamerton was Mr. Brown. That was what Mr. Pitt desperately needed, and as I’d failed to find it, I could not expect him to offer me another chance to work for him now. What with that, and the situation with Mr Reevers, I was at a very low ebb.

  The report had to go via the special messenger, and I made up my mind to deliver it to Mr Reevers myself. He’d promised to collect it the following morning, but I knew he would find some means of speaking to me alone. As he would do if I took it to Norton House escorted by my uncle. I had too much to do to allow myself to be distracted again; my own problems must wait, and I decided to go to Norton House alone.

  Of course, if it ever got out that I had called on a gentleman without an escort, local society would be outraged. Aunt Thirza and Mr Upton would not hold back in their condemnation, while even Julia and my uncle would be shocked at such forwardness. Tongues would wag for months. Yet, unable to see any other way, I had to risk the scandal.

  Naturally I would not enter the house, so there was nothing anyone could object to, and I intended to leave Westfleet under the pretence of going for a ride. My aunt had gone to see Mrs. Woodford, my uncle was engrossed in a book in the library, and I’d sent Mudd on an errand to Newport. No-one could possibly know where I was going.

  Thus, I sealed the letter, wrapped it in some oilcloth in case it rained, which judging by the darkening sky looked all too likely. Then I strolled down to the stables, had Orlando saddled and rode off towards Norton House.

  Stopping at the top of the Down to watch a frigate sailing out to sea, I glanced up at the sky, grimacing at the heavy black clouds racing in from the west. I felt the first spots of rain half a mile from Norton House. Spots that rapidly turned into a torrent, and I arrived at the house drenched to the skin. The sun came out again as I slipped from the saddle, and hanging on to the reins, I knocked on the door, which was promptly opened by the butler.

  Finch had been butler at Norton House since I was a child, and I knew him well from the time when the house was occupied by other members of the Saxborough family. ‘Good morning, Finch,’ I said cheerfully. ‘I trust you are well.’

  ‘Yes, thank you, my lady.’

  ‘And Mrs. Finch?’ She was the housekeeper.

  He looked around for my escort, and seeing none, eyed me suspiciously. ‘She’s well enough, my lady.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ I said, and inquired in a cheerful unconcerned manner, ‘Is Mr Reevers at home?’

  He hesitated. ‘Well, he is, my lady, but-----’

  ‘In that case be good enough to ask him if he’d step outside. I shan’t keep him above a minute.’ Ignoring the reproach in Finch’s eyes I urged, ‘Do hurry, Finch. I’m very wet.’

  Grumbling that he didn’t know what the world was coming to, he turned and walked off. Mr Reevers soon came striding out, his brow a trifle furrowed. ‘Good God, you’re absolutely soaked. I wish I could ask you inside to dry off, but I suppose it wouldn’t do. Mrs Finch doesn’t miss a thing.’ And he cast a swift glance behind him, as if expecting the housekeeper to appear. When he saw she wasn’t in sight, he mopped his brow with a handkerchief in mock relief, and it was all I could do not to laugh.

  Forcibly reminding myself he was only interested in my fortune, I gave him my report saying in my primmest voice, ‘I find I have to go out tomorrow morning, and I wanted to hand this to you myself.’

  Thanking me, he promised the messenger would take it to Mr Pitt straightaway, and inquired, ‘Tell me, are you in the habit of visiting a gentleman’s residence alone?’

  ‘Only when it rains.’ He gave an appreciative chuckle and I said, ‘I really must go.’

  I used the mounting block to get back onto Orlando and he murmured, ‘Yes, I suppose you better had. I wish I could believe you hadn’t planned it this way. When we are in Portsmouth I mean to hold one conversation with you in a situation that won’t rui
n your reputation, and where we won’t be interrupted.’

  Unable to trust myself to speak, I headed back down the drive, all too conscious that he was still watching me. On reaching the Downs, I rode Orlando hard, uncaring of the showers, and cursing the fact that I had ever set eyes on Radleigh Reevers. Uncaring too that I had promised my aunt never to venture out alone again.

  In the morning, eager to be out of the house in case Mr Reevers called, I set off after breakfast to visit my tenants, to ensure all was well before I left for Portsmouth. There was a new baby to admire, and a wedding in the offing, but no urgent problems, and I came home with a smile on my face. I enjoyed looking after my small estate, and back at Westfleet, I went into the library to add the name of the new baby in the book where I kept the details of all my tenants. Only to find my uncle entertaining Mr. Reevers and Mr. East. They rose and bowed as I entered and relieved that Mr. Reevers had not come here alone, I greeted them in a relaxed manner. There being no sign of my aunt I asked my uncle if she had gone out.

  He shook his head. ‘I’m afraid she’s feeling under the weather and has decided to stay in bed.’ My heart sank, for if she was unwell and could not go to Portsmouth, my uncle would not leave her, and I could not go without a proper chaperone. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, correctly interpreting my fears. ‘It’s just a cold. But I hope you don’t want the servants to do anything in particular at the moment.’

  ‘Why?’ I asked, puzzled.

  ‘Well, I’m afraid your aunt is keeping them very busy,’ he informed me with a chuckle. ‘After breakfast she fancied a hot lemon drink, then a glass of water, her favourite shawl, her spectacles, and a window had to be opened. Now she has everyone searching for a book she swears she’s left in the blue salon, but which cannot be found.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ I smiled, thankfully aware it meant she was not really ill. But one problem was soon solved, when Luffe came in a few minutes later with the book, informing my uncle he’d found it in the music room. Thanking Luffe, my uncle said if we would excuse him he would return it to her now.