The Fat Badger Society (Drusilla Davanish Mysteries Book 2)

by Dawn Harris

  Once he’d shut the door, Mr. East explained the reason for their visit. ‘We thought it sensible to have a discussion about Hamerton before we go to Portsmouth, ma’am. In case we’ve missed anything that would give us the proof we need.’

  ‘Well, if there is proof,’ I said with a sigh, ‘I haven’t been able to find it. And I don’t think Mr. Hamerton has met Mr. Silver since he went to the churchyard that night. Sometimes he’s out late observing the moths, but that’s all.’ I was not sleeping well and had no difficulty staying awake until one o’clock, but I was not going to admit that in front of Mr. Reevers.

  ‘We have a man watching the church,’ Mr. Reevers said. ‘But he’s seen nothing. Except Mr. Sims arriving home late most nights. I wonder what keeps him out until one or two in the morning?’

  I gave a shrug of indifference, for as Mr. East rightly said it was Mr. Hamerton we had to concentrate on. We went through all the facts again, but it didn’t help and Mr. Reevers said, ‘The only thing we are certain of, is that the assassination is set for August.’

  ‘We wouldn’t know that,’ Mr. East commented, ‘if you hadn’t found Septimus’s journal, ma’am. The sad thing is, if George Jenkins hadn’t gone back into the inn to collect his gloves that night, he wouldn’t have overheard what Mr. Brown’s aim really was, and he and Septimus would still be alive. And with their help every member of that murderous society would be under arrest by now.’ He suddenly crashed his right fist into his left palm. ‘We must settle this business before August. We absolutely must.’

  ‘What I still don’t understand,’ I said, referring to the question that had puzzled me from the beginning, ‘is that, if this assassination attempt has been planned for August all along, why did they try to kill the King in Windsor? It doesn’t make any sense.’

  Mr. Reevers lifted his shoulders a little. ‘In my experience revolutionaries are rarely guided by sense and logic.’

  ‘They certainly aren’t in France,’ I muttered, thinking of those poor souls being guillotined for complaining about the price of bread, or that life was better under the King. And I asked if they knew the exact date the King would set out for Weymouth.

  ‘We should find out in Portsmouth,’ Mr. East said. ‘Everything that can be done to guard him in Weymouth will be done. You can be very sure of that.’

  My uncle came back into the room then, informing me I was barred from entering my aunt’s bedchamber, as she didn’t want me to catch her cold. ‘Don’t feel too badly about it, Drusilla. I have been barred too.’ I laughed and he said, ‘Still, she informs me she will be quite all right by Wednesday.’ I prayed he was right. Whatever happened, I had to keep my appointment with Mr Dundas, the Minister of the Home Department.

  Mr. Reevers made no attempt to speak to me alone, no doubt aware I would refuse. Tomorrow they were leaving for Portsmouth, a day ahead of us. There he would insist on being told why my feelings for him had changed. And that would be the end of it all, I thought miserably.

  After dinner my uncle and I enjoyed an excellent game of chess, then I went for a stroll outside. On my way out, Luffe informed me Richard had called to see Mr. Hamerton and that they were in the garden. I nodded and took the opportunity to tell him I was very pleased with the way he was handling his new job. I saw the relief in his eyes. ‘Thank you, my lady.’

  I wandered along the paths through the flower beds, admiring the spectacular display of foxgloves, and the sight of a beautiful sunset. Reaching the walled garden, I was about to open the gate to go in when I heard Richard and Mr. Hamerton talking. I guessed they were sitting on the seat situated near to the gate. Not wanting to interrupt them, and needing to be on my own, I was about to go off in another direction when I heard Richard ask, ‘So we are to go ahead in August as planned?’

  ‘Yes, it’s all set,’ Mr. Hamerton answered. ‘The letter Silver brought back from Paris says that date fits in perfectly with Robespierre’s plans.’

  ‘Good. Well, you can count on me.’ I stuffed my fingers into my mouth to stop myself crying out in protest.

  ‘Are you sure, Richard? You have much more to lose than me. Julia, Edward and----’

  ‘I am very sure. It’s the only thing to do while this wretched government remains in power. The sooner it is overthrown the better.’

  ‘If we’re caught it means execution.’

  ‘As it will if I’m court-martialled for cowardice and found guilty. That’s judicial murder too,’ Richard sneered bitterly. ‘So where’s the difference?’

  ‘You may not be court-martialled.’

  ‘Oh, I will be, believe me. But not until the autumn, I’m told. Time enough for us to do what we both believe to be right. I shall rid England of that wretched tyrant, or die in the attempt.’ I heard sounds of movement and Richard said, ‘I’d better go or Julia will wonder what has become of me.’

  I was terrified they would come out of the gate and see me, but thankfully they walked off towards the house, talking about the yacht Mr. Hamerton had now bought. I leant against the outside wall, grateful for its solid support, as the conversation I’d heard echoed relentlessly over and over in my mind. Closing my eyes, I thought of the unendurable strain Richard had been under recently. Threatened with a court martial on a charge of cowardice and failing to obey a direct order, yet unable to do anything about it, except wait, for week after week. No man should suffer such torture.

  Richard knew himself to be innocent, yet expected to be found guilty. A verdict that almost certainly meant execution - judicial murder, he’d called it – and Richard hated injustice with a fierce passion. To him, matters were either right or wrong; he didn’t believe in half measures.

  A coward would have run away, left the country to escape justice. Richard, however, had stayed to face it. He was not a coward, but these charges had made him lose faith in everything he’d ever believed in. Clearly he saw no way out. Yet, I would have sworn he’d die rather than turn to the French, for he was fiercely patriotic. But Mr. Hamerton had talked of going ahead in August, and Richard of ridding England of ‘that wretched tyrant.’ Tyrant was a term the French had used for Louis XV1, even as he climbed the steps to the guillotine. And I put my head in my hands and groaned.

  Mr. Pitt had wanted me to find out if Mr. Hamerton was a French agent, and in doing so, I had discovered what I could not bear to be true. And, having learnt of it, I had no choice but to inform Mr. Pitt. No choice at all. For England’s very survival was at stake.

  CHAPTER TWENTYFOUR

  Richard and Mr. Hamerton were sailing to Portsmouth on the morning tide. Mr. Reevers and Mr. East, who were to keep watch on them on the mainland, were also leaving tomorrow. It was getting dark, and I went back indoors, intending to go into the workroom to write down what I’d overheard. But when I walked into the hall my uncle came out of the drawing room.

  ‘Ah, there you are Drusilla,’ he beamed, and begged me to join him. Shutting the door behind us, he said, ‘Mr. Reevers stopped by briefly to confirm the arrangements for our stay in Portsmouth. He did ask for you, but I had no idea where you were, and he was in a hurry.’

  ‘Was Mr. East with him?’

  ‘No. He’s gone to take his leave of Miss. Adams,’ he replied with a grin. ‘Your aunt confidently predicts wedding bells.’

  I smiled. ‘More than likely.’ But, afraid my uncle would ask if I had wedding plans too, I quickly changed the subject, inquiring where we were to stay in Portsmouth.

  He told me the address and said, ‘The gentleman who owns the house asks only that we don’t speak of the arrangement. Apparently he has already turned down several requests from other friends and acquaintances, and wishes to avoid the embarrassment of these people hearing of it. He is in London on business this week and says his servants will look after us. There will be room for the three of us, as well as Mr. Hamerton and Richard.’

  ‘Do they know?’ I asked as casually as I could.

  ‘Indeed they do. They both accepted eagerly
, preferring to sleep in a house rather than on the yacht. And the house is in the perfect position for watching the procession on Friday.’

  ‘What procession is that?’

  The lack of interest in my voice made him ask, ‘Drusilla, is something wrong?’

  ‘Oh, I’m just rather tired, that’s all.’ And I said brightly, ‘Tell me about this procession.’

  He gave me a searching look, but did as I asked. ‘Well, the King is to hold a levee at Government House to honour those brave officers involved in Howe’s great Naval Victory. The top government ministers, local nobility, dignitaries and others will also attend. He will drive from the Dockyard through the streets so that the people can see him. And we will have a grand view of it all from an upstairs room in the house itself.’

  ‘That sounds most agreeable.’

  He broke into a smile. ‘I was sure you would think so.’

  ‘If we are still able to go to Portsmouth,’ I said, thinking of Aunt Thirza.

  He lifted his shoulders a little. ‘Your aunt is determined to do so.’

  ‘How is she today?’

  ‘She was still sneezing when I was allowed a glimpse of her from the doorway this morning, but she informed me that would stop by this afternoon, when she intended to get up.’

  That made me laugh. ‘I hope she’s right.’ And that my uncle doesn’t catch it, I thought. For no-one else could escort me on this trip, and I had to go, no matter what happened.

  We talked for so long about the arrangements and Howe’s victory, that I never did go back to the workroom. Overwhelmed by tiredness, heartache and distress, I went up to bed, where unable to stop myself going over what I’d overheard, I tossed and turned until I eventually fell asleep through sheer exhaustion.

  Mr. Hamerton had already left when I went down to breakfast. Once I’d eaten and dealt with the usual household matters, I went for a ride, accompanied by Mudd. It was a lovely morning with the Island looking at its very best. I rode across Hokewell Down to Dittistone and onto Hodes Down, from where I had a perfect view of the boats going about their business in the Solent, while the sunshine and delicious smell of the tangy sea air began to restore just a little of my usual optimism.

  I rode back along the cliff top and knowing that I must call on Julia before going to Portsmouth, no matter how much I dreaded it, I made my way up Breighton hill. As Mudd led Orlando off to the stables, I saw Julia on the terrace, and when I joined her, she said a little wistfully, ‘I wish I could see the celebrations too. But Richard is right, it would be unwise in my present situation. And I wouldn’t want to leave Edward for so long.’

  ‘There will be other occasions,’ I sympathised.

  We were still talking of Howe’s great victory when she suddenly asked in great concern, ‘What’s wrong, Drusilla? It’s obvious something has upset you.’

  If only, I thought, I could learn to hide my feelings, for she knew me too well to be taken in by any explanation that did not justify the devastation she obviously saw. I could not, and would not, tell her what I’d heard Richard say. Nor could I bear to think what his involvement with Mr. Hamerton’s schemes would do to those I loved so dearly. I quickly shrugged it off by saying, ‘Nothing of any consequence. Do let us talk of----’

  ‘Not until you tell me what’s happened. The last time I saw that look on your face was when your dear father died.’ Unable to speak, I dismissed that with a wave of my hand, but it didn’t stop her. ‘Have you quarrelled with Mr Reevers?’

  ‘Mr Reevers means nothing to me.’ I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice and failed miserably. In the end I said what I knew would satisfy her. ‘If you must know---- I have discovered he is a - a - fortune hunter,’ I said, barely able to utter those ugly words. And I told her about my godmother’s letter.

  ‘I see,’ she said in a hollow voice. And suggested hopefully, ‘She might be mistaken.’

  ‘She said Giles admitted it was true.’

  Julia gazed down at her hands for a moment or two, for she knew as well as I did, that fact settled the matter. ‘What does Mr Reevers say?’

  ‘I haven’t spoken to him about it,’ I whispered in a suffocating voice.

  ‘But, surely,’ she protested, ‘you ought to give him a chance to put his side.’

  ‘He would only deny it.’ I took a deep breath. ‘I could not bear to marry and then find that he – he – did not care for me.’ I saw the distress in her eyes and went on bleakly, ‘I shall never marry now. I’ve made up my mind once and for all. Life will go on and I will get over it.’ And desperate to talk of something else, I told her I’d also had a letter from Mrs. Jenkins.

  Accepting the change of subject with obvious reluctance, she asked, ‘Is she back on the Island now?’

  ‘No. She won’t return until these villains are caught.’

  ‘Very sensible,’ she said in approval. ‘In fact I was saying to Mr. East only the other day that if Edward’s life was threatened, I would do absolutely anything to safeguard him. Anything at all. But he believes Mrs. Jenkins and her children will be perfectly safe in Wickham with her brother, because she’s done exactly what those wretched murderers told her to do.’

  ‘I’m sure he’s right,’ I agreed rather absently, our discussion about Mr. Reevers having left my emotions in utter turmoil again.

  Julia asked what else was in the letter. ‘Did she know anything about the Fat Badgers?’

  ‘A little. The man I shot was Mr. Ruby. She described that dreadful scar down his cheek and said her husband hadn’t liked him because he spoke the kind of language criminals used.’

  ‘Well, if he killed Septimus I’m glad he’s dead. I wish they all were.’ She went on talking about her brother, and knowing how much she missed him, I tried to put Mr. Reevers from my mind. After a while I steered the conversation onto Edward and she made me laugh with the tale of how she’d watched him following a frog, imitating its movement and croaking.

  Back at Westfleet, Aunt Thirza joined us for the midday meal, when I learned she had also come down to breakfast. Apart from a red and rather sore nose, she seemed much better.

  ‘I haven’t sneezed since yesterday afternoon,’ she told me, ‘and I am feeling very much more the thing.’ In fact she was so much her old self again that when she complained the kitchen cat had left two dead birds on the doorstep, that Luffe’s shoes still squeaked, and the small print in “The Times” had become impossible to read, I merely smiled. For it meant she was back to normal and our trip could go ahead.

  ‘Charles, I should like to go out for a drive this afternoon,’ she declared, picking out an orange from the selection of fruit.

  ‘Are you sure you’re well enough,’ he asked anxiously.

  ‘It was just a cold, which has gone,’ she informed him. ‘I am quite recovered now.’

  The carriage was ordered and after watching them bowl down the drive, I spoke to Gray, my maid, instructing her on what to pack for the visit to Portsmouth. Which, with our uncertain climate meant taking clothes suitable for the heat, cold and rain. Tomorrow we planned to ride to Cowes, stay overnight, leave the horses at the stables until our return, and set off early Wednesday morning for Portsmouth.

  With that settled I intended to go into the workroom, knowing I must write down what I’d overheard yesterday evening, no matter how hard I found it. But as I walked across the hall I saw Luffe admit Mr. Upton and Mr. Sims into the house. I cursed under my breath, for I had no choice but to invite them into the drawing room, where I learned they had come to inquire after my aunt’s health.

  Mr Upton said, ‘We would have called before, but I couldn’t risk Francis catching a cold. He’s still very vulnerable, you know. The last thing he needs is a setback.’

  Mr Sims protested, ‘I am much better now, Uncle. I don’t think a cold would hurt me.’

  ‘Well, perhaps not. But we can’t take any chances. Am I not right, Lady Drusilla?’

  ‘In my view you cannot be too caref
ul,’ I agreed, aware that it wasn’t concern for his nephew that had stopped him calling at Westfleet, but fear of catching the cold himself. I hoped that worry would shorten his visit, but he could never speak of illness without detailing all his own ailments, and those of his wife. Having listened politely to the state of the boils on his neck, and the suffering Mrs Upton was obliged to endure because of her chilblains, I was seriously considering pretending to sneeze, when he said it was time they were leaving.

  ‘I told Francis we mustn’t stay long,’ Mr Upton announced piously. ‘But we couldn’t let you go off to Portsmouth without wishing you well on your trip.’

  I thanked him courteously and when I rang for Luffe to see them out, Mr. Sims said, ‘As a matter of fact Lady Drusilla, I expect to be in Portsmouth myself. My friend in Dittistone is eager to see the celebrations and wishes me to accompany him.’

  Mr. Upton frowned in disapproval. ‘I thought we’d agreed that would be most unwise in your state of health.’

  ‘I have already accepted his invitation,’ he said pleasantly. ‘As for my health, I have never felt better. Which I am sure is entirely due to the fresh air on this lovely island.’

  Watching them leave, I wondered who Mr. Sims was really going to Portsmouth with, and wished I could be at the parsonage when they heard of his association with Mr. Young. But I didn’t dwell on it, having far more serious matters to think about. Crossing the hall to the workroom I told Luffe I was not to be disturbed until it was time to dress for dinner.

  First I did what was hardest for me. On Mr. Hamerton’s chart I wrote down the conversation I’d overheard between him and Richard, and sat absently tapping my pen on the desk, going over it all.

  I thought too about a couple of other remarks made in conversation recently that had puzzled me. And going back to Mr. Hamerton’s wall chart I carefully checked those remarks with the evidence I had already written down. Then I walked over to the window and stood watching the trees swaying in the breeze, considering all these facts for a very long time. And, at long last, I began to see what had really happened, and how it all fitted together. From the start everything had pointed to Mr. Hamerton being Mr. Brown. But father had taught me never to make assumptions, always to keep an open mind, until I found conclusive evidence, one way or the other.