by Dawn Harris
When researching for his book, naturally we came across a few crimes over the centuries. Of those where we found proof, most obvious suspects were every bit as evil as they had appeared. But one or two were completely innocent. Two days ago, writing my report for Mr. Pitt, I had not been absolutely sure which Mr. Hamerton was.
But what I had heard since then left me in no doubt. I’d needed conclusive proof and now I was sure I had it. I saw why the Fat Badgers had made that assassination attempt in Windsor, why Mr. Hamerton had arrived late that day, and how blatantly he had lied about losing touch with his sister.
When Mr. Pitt asked me to find out whether or not Mr. Hamerton was Mr. Brown, he’d said no spy could watch what he said all the time. And he was right.
Now I had the vital evidence Mr. Pitt desperately needed, but I couldn’t send it to him because his special messenger was in Portsmouth with Mr. Reevers and Mr. East. Besides he’d given Mr. Dundas the task of deciding what to do next about the Fat Badgers, therefore it made sense to hand him the information when I reached Portsmouth.
Knowing I dare not waste any more time, I took a sheet of writing paper, picked up my pen, dipped it in the ink, and wrote those crucial words. For, I also saw why there would be a third attempt on my life. The unpalatable truth, which I had to face, was that I might not be so lucky next time.
I finished it in good time to dress for dinner, then decided to make two copies for myself. One I would leave where it could easily be found. But, in case that got into the wrong hands, I would hide the other one, making sure Mudd knew where it was. Aware of the need for haste, it was hard to concentrate on anything else over dinner, but I tried to take an interest when I learnt my aunt and uncle had visited Ledstone Place on their afternoon drive. ‘Your aunt insisted on going. I’m not quite sure why,’ he said, winking at me.
Aunt Thirza clicked her tongue. ‘I went Charles, as you very well know, to make sure the house is being kept in good order. Lucie and Giles will be back soon.’
‘Not for three weeks, surely?’ Their daughter had been away for three months, and I knew how much they both missed her.
‘Yes, but in my experience Drusilla, servants become slovenly unless someone keeps them up to the mark.’
‘Doesn’t Giles’s steward see to all that?’
She sniffed. ‘A man doesn’t look at a house in the same way as a woman.’
I was tempted to ask if she’d found any dust or dirt, but thought better of it. For, I had already detected a tone of criticism in her voice that did not bode well for me, and sure enough, the instant the servants left the room she fired the first broadside.
‘Mrs. Finch was visiting her sister at Ledstone today,’ she began in an ominous voice. The housekeeper at Norton House often visited her sister, who was housekeeper at Ledstone. ‘She informed me you called on Mr Reevers the other day without an escort of any kind. Not even a groom.’ I did not answer. ‘She felt I should give you a hint that such behaviour was not at all the thing. As if you didn’t know that perfectly well. Whatever possessed you, Drusilla?’
‘I cannot see what there is to fuss about. I didn’t go inside.’
‘I should hope not,’ she said in a shocked voice. ‘But Mrs Finch said you were soaked to the skin, and----’
‘I got caught in a heavy downpour.’
‘All the more reason to go straight home. I am told your clothes were clinging to you.’
‘Wet clothes usually do, Aunt.’ My uncle choked, quickly turning it into a cough, but my aunt was not fooled. ‘It is not funny, Charles. This could ruin Drusilla’s reputation.’
At which point my patience deserted me. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Aunt.’
‘Reputations have been lost for less.’
‘I am twenty-seven. Not a young girl.’
‘Let me tell you, you’ll never get a husband if you go on like that.’
‘I don’t want a husband.’ And unaccountably I felt the sting of tears in my eyes. Reaching for my glass, I drained the contents and the moment passed. ‘I shall never marry, Aunt.’
‘Well, I cannot imagine what made you go to Norton House. But if that’s the sort of behaviour Mr. Reevers encourages,’ Aunt Thirza sniffed, ‘the sooner he goes back to London the better.’ Words that almost overset me. I longed for him to go out of my life, yet dreaded it at the same time.
After dinner I slipped into the workroom, made the two copies of my report, putting one with my other important documents, and the second in the most obscure of the three secret drawers in my father’s desk. Then I took a stroll round the garden in the fading light.
Approaching the stables I decided to acquaint Mudd with the details of what was in my report, and where to find it. Then I remembered, as he was accompanying us to Portsmouth tomorrow, I’d given him permission to visit his father this evening. Still, I thought, the morning would do as well. With Mr. Hamerton in Portsmouth, I was safe enough tonight.
I was so tired I fell asleep almost at once and did not wake until Gray drew the curtains back at seven. I got up at once, for this afternoon we were going to Cowes, staying overnight, in order to sail on the early tide for Portsmouth, and I had a great deal to do first. As I walked downstairs I saw Fisher, one of the grooms, talking agitatedly to Luffe.
‘Is something wrong?’ I demanded at once.
Fisher turned to me. ‘It’s Mudd, my lady. His bed hasn’t been slept in. And his horse came back to the stables ten minutes ago.’
I stared at him, too shocked to speak, realising at once that if Mudd had suffered an accident on his way home last night, his horse would have come back hours ago. Which meant someone had kept his horse overnight and deliberately released it this morning. Someone who wanted me to know Mudd had disappeared. And that it wasn’t an accident.
CHAPTER TWENTYFIVE
I had expected the Fat Badgers to make another attempt on my life, but never imagined they would do anything like this. I’d warned Mudd that assisting me could be dangerous but, in truth, I thought that, as a servant, he would be safe enough.
Fisher stood waiting for orders, and pulling myself together I told him, ‘Mudd is out there somewhere and I intend to find him. I want every man who can ride to be ready in ten minutes. I’ll come down to the stables then and organise the search.’
‘Very good, my lady. Will you be coming with us?’
‘Not until I have seen Mudd’s father.’ I was not looking forward to that. He had every right to expect his son to be safe at Westfleet Manor.
Fisher ran off to the stables and Luffe asked if I meant to have breakfast first. I shook my head. ‘I couldn’t eat a thing.’
‘He might have taken a tumble and been injured, my lady.’
I wanted to believe that myself, but I knew it wasn’t true for, as I told Luffe, ‘If he had, his horse would have come back last night.’ They had deliberately kept the horse back until this morning so I would know who was behind it and what they had done. They wanted me to look for him, which meant this was probably a trap.
Mr. Hamerton had, of course, been here last night when the abduction had taken place. But he’d stayed with the Tanfields overnight, as he and Richard were leaving for Portsmouth on the early morning tide. And they would be well on their way now.
My uncle, hearing sounds of great activity, soon joined me. When he learnt what had happened he insisted on coming with me to see Mudd’s father, for which I was most grateful.
‘It’s a pity Mr. Reevers and Mr. East aren’t here,’ he said, putting a comforting hand on my arm. ‘But don’t despair, my dear. Mudd may still be alive.’
The compassion in his voice made me choke up. ‘If they’ve murdered him too I don’t know how I shall ever bear it. I’ll never forgive myself ---- never.’
He went to tell my aunt what we were doing, and to change into riding clothes, while I hurried down to the stables to organise the grooms. I sent them in pairs to search the Downs between here and where Mudd’s father lived at
Dittistone, and along the cliff top to check the beach. I told them where I would be if they found Mudd, or had news of him. Otherwise I would meet them later at Dittistone Bay.
My uncle and I were soon ready to leave. He brought a pair of duelling pistols with him and the discovery that my mild-mannered, kindly uncle actually owned such weapons made me forget my fears for a brief moment. ‘When did you ever fight a duel?’
‘Oh, I haven’t. But, when we married, your aunt insisted I should be prepared, in case I was ever called out.’
I shook my head at him in amused disbelief. ‘You wouldn’t have gone.’
‘No, you’re right, I wouldn’t. I’ve always thought it a ridiculous way to settle an argument. But don’t tell her that. I would hate her to think I was a coward.’
‘As if she would,’ I protested. ‘As if anyone would.’ How could they, when he’d stayed in France while the revolution raged around him, and later spent months in a French prison?
When we reached the cottage where Mudd’s father lived, we found him outside tending his vegetable patch. I dismounted and handed Orlando’s reins to my uncle, who waited by the gate. Mudd senior saw from my face that something was very wrong, and I sat with him on the small bench that leant against the cottage wall, gently explaining what little I knew. Then I asked, ‘What time did John leave you last night?’
His hands shook as he said, ‘It was before ten, my lady. He rode off towards the Downs, same as usual. I watched him go.’ He turned to me, fear in his eyes. ‘What can have become of him?’
I didn’t know how to answer him. He was an old man now and my groom was his only son. All I could do was to assure him, ‘Every groom at Westfleet is out looking for him. I’ll speak to the constable and then join the search myself. I promise you we’ll find him.’ I prayed it was a promise I could keep. And that he would be alive.
‘I’m grateful, my lady.’ Tears misted his eyes. ‘I’ll get my friends to help too.’
Most of his friends were smugglers and I encouraged, ‘That’s an excellent idea.’ Smugglers frequently knew what was going on, and if they didn’t, they had ways of finding out. ‘They may have heard a whisper.’
‘But what about your trip to Portsmouth, my lady? Weren’t you leaving today?’
I turned to him, stunned by what he seemed to be suggesting. ‘Do you really believe I would leave the Island when John is in such danger?’
‘I know some as would. But not you, my lady. You’d never do that.’
A remark that suddenly made it very clear why Mudd had been kidnapped, but I said nothing, for it would not have helped. Rising to my feet, I promised to let him know the minute I had any news. ‘Try not to worry too much,’ I urged softly.
After speaking to the constable, who immediately set about his own investigation, my uncle and I rode down to Dittistone Bay, where the grooms were already gathered. I was not surprised to learn they had found no sign of Mudd.
When I told them I believed Mudd had been kidnapped, they looked at me in amazement, as well they might, but before they began asking awkward questions I hurried on. ‘I want you to ask every local farmer to search his outbuildings.’ I gave each pair specific areas, telling them to return to Westfleet afterwards. I didn’t believe Mudd would be found in such a place, but I could not discount it either.
Watching the men ride off, my uncle asked, ‘Are you quite sure he’s been kidnapped, Drusilla?’
‘I am. Mudd’s father said he knew I wouldn’t go to Portsmouth while his son was missing. He was right. And the Fat Badgers knew that too.’ Killing Mudd might not stop me crossing the Solent. Fear that his life was in jeopardy, would.
My uncle asked the question that had hammered in my mind ever since I’d left Mudd senior. ‘Yes, but why would they want to stop you going to Portsmouth?’
‘I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense to me either.’ Yet there had to be a reason. And instinct told me that if I found the answer to that, everything else would become clear.
In the next few hours I called on everyone I knew in Dittistone, praying someone had seen something. But no-one had. I went back to Mudd senior, to learn his smuggling friends were equally unaware. They had promised to help, and if anyone could find Mudd, I thought, they would.
At this point my uncle insisted we went home, for we hadn’t eaten since last night, and as he rightly said, my aunt would be worried too. In any case, I needed to work out where to look next. I accepted Mudd would be hard to find. Otherwise kidnapping him would be a waste of time. Riding home, absently watching the shipping in the Solent, I suddenly burst out, ‘Uncle, he could be on a boat.’
‘Of course. Why didn’t I think of that.’
‘After we’ve eaten, we’ll go to Yarmouth.’
On approaching Westfleet church, we saw the parson coming towards us, and I said, ‘I’ll ask Mr. Upton to help. You go home and tell cook we are famished.’ He rode off, exchanging no more than a greeting with the parson.
I reined in and had barely started to explain the situation to Mr. Upton, when he interrupted testily, ‘Lady Drusilla, the whole village knows Mudd is missing.’
‘Then you’ll understand why I need every man to help find him. If you and Mr. Sims----‘
‘You expect me to help in this farce?’ he burst out, his face turning puce. ‘I’m sorry ma’am, but I have more important things to do than search for a mere servant sleeping it off under some bush.’
Gritting my teeth, I seethed, ‘Mudd has never been drunk in his life. And I would remind you Mr. Upton, the Bible teaches us that everyone is equal in God’s eyes, and that includes servants. You would do well to practise what you preach.’ And blinded by fury I urged Orlando on towards Westfleet Manor.
When I walked into the drawing room, Julia was sitting with my aunt. She jumped up on seeing me and begged, ‘Is there any news?’
I shook my head, and my aunt anxiously demanded, ‘Where’s Charles?’
‘Here I am, my dear,’ he announced cheerfully, coming into the room. ‘I’ve spoken to cook, Drusilla. She promises us a splendid meal.’ Explaining to Julia, ‘Drusilla and I have been out since before breakfast.’
I related what we had done that morning, and when Julia said her grooms were eager to help, I suggested they checked farm buildings to the east of Westfleet. I thanked her with real gratitude and she hurried off to give them their orders.
Over nuncheon, we talked of where Mudd might be held. I hoped my aunt would think of something we hadn’t, but regrettably she didn’t, and after we had eaten, my uncle and I set off for Yarmouth. I soon realised this was an impossible task, however, for there were boats all around the Island. Checking them would take weeks, and instinct told me we were wasting our time.
Riding home I prayed Mudd had been found, or someone had discovered a clue that would lead us to him. But, again, no-one had. Not even the smugglers, Mudd’s father having sent a boy with a message to that effect. If they couldn’t find out, what chance did I have?
During dinner Aunt Thirza spoke of what we had originally planned to do that day. ‘We would have been in Cowes now,’ she said wistfully. ‘And in Portsmouth tomorrow.’
‘You wouldn’t want to go while Mudd is in the hands of those murderers,’ my uncle chided gently.
‘No, of course not. It’s just that I was so looking forward to the treat.’
After dinner I walked round the garden, thinking. This kidnapping had been carefully planned, and Mudd taken to a place where he would not easily be found. That much was obvious. But where?
I thought for a very long time, only it did no good at all, and having promised Julia I would keep her informed, I decided to ride over to see her. When I told my aunt where I was going, she ordered, ‘Take a groom with you.’ But the grooms were busy catching up on what they had not been able to do during the day, so I went alone. It was only a mile.
I was approaching the parsonage when a horseman suddenly shot out from the thick tree-lined dri
ve, causing Orlando to whinny. On seeing who it was, I burst out, ‘Good God, Mr. Sims, you startled me.’
‘I do beg your pardon, ma’am. I was about to call on you, so I’m glad to see you here as I am in the deuce of a hurry.’ I looked at him in surprise and he went on, ‘I have been out all day and only heard about Mudd an hour ago.’
‘You know something?’ I asked eagerly.
‘Well, it may be nothing, but I did see a light in an empty house late last night.’
‘Where?’ I burst out, suddenly feeling breathless.
‘I’ll show you, ma’am. I’m going that way, but I must be in Yarmouth in an hour. I’m sailing to Portsmouth with Mr. Young.’
‘At night, Mr. Sims?’
‘Mr. Young enjoys night sailing, ma’am.’
‘A reminder of his smuggling days, perhaps.’
‘Undoubtedly, ma’am.’ And his face broke into a smile. ‘Will you ride with me?’
I didn’t hesitate, and we raced along the cliff top to Dittistone in the fading twilight, not slowing until we reached the first house. It was only when we turned into a dark narrow lane that I recalled my father’s warning about not acting on impulse. That I should always stop and think first. But Mr. Sims was the only person to offer even a glimmer of hope, and I’d jumped at the chance. I saw now how foolish that was.
In the first place I didn’t know if Mr. Sims was involved with the Fat Badgers. His excuse, when seen out late at night, was his interest in the stars. Which, frankly, I did not believe, and he’d also lied to the Uptons, about spending his evenings in Dittistone with an academic friend. The friend was real enough, but his time was mostly spent with Mr. Young. Illness had supposedly brought him to the island, yet he seemed perfectly healthy to me, and I began to fear his short, skinny appearance had led me to underestimate his intelligence.