In addition to all his other affairs, Henry Tulkington held the sinecure for tax gathering on the sale and purchase of commodities in the Deal area. In common with most holders of such profitable positions he employed someone else to carry out the actual work, none other than John Hawker, creating a beautiful symmetry.
Hawker called upon the local tradesfolk to assess from their ledgers what was due to the government. This he carried out assiduously, as did Tulkington in his returns to the Treasury in London. No hint of monies missing, and the enquiries which would ensue, could be allowed. Since the entire stipend that went with the office was passed on in full, it gave Hawker an enviable income.
He performed another task on his rounds, informing those interested of what was about to be smuggled in, which allowed him to compile a list of what they wished to buy and at what price. The third strand, first introduced by Tulkington’s father, took care of income needed to keep the men Hawker led in funds.
It explained why he was hated and feared in equal measure, while also ensuring no trace of his men being employed by the owner of Cottington Court was visible. It was made plain to the good folk of Deal that if they wished to carry on their trade without trouble, it was wise to pay a small regular sum to ensure none came their way.
‘Spafford’s men and the sod hisself? What are we to do there?’
John Hawker had long ago realised it was a Tulkington habit to always turn away when deep in thought and, as ever, he placed himself close to the stove. Likewise, it was necessary to let him think, for he was ever in fear of anything which smacked of a rush. If their contraband game was hugely successful, it also had ramifications of which Hawker was unware and these had to be protected.
‘Does it occur to you, John, that we might need them?’
‘For what?’ was too harshly delivered, obvious by the terse nature of the response.
‘Have we been talking in riddles, man? If Brazier has to be forced to depart, much as I might deplore it, I doubt it can be done without a risk of violence. Perhaps a threat will not suffice and, in this, I would not wish you or your men to be involved for several reasons. Exposure is only one, the need to concentrate on what is, after all, their job is another, for we have cargoes due in the coming week. But Spafford’s louts …’
‘It’s a thought,’ was delivered with indecision.
‘The uncertainty stems, as you have told me, from an inability to know which of them may be reliable and which are not.’ The solution fully arrived at in his mind, Tulkington spun round. ‘Let us set them on Brazier and see who holds true.’
‘None to my mind.’
‘You may not have heard of the Sage of Lichfield, Doctor Samuel Johnson, who was wont to say that the prospect of hanging wonderfully concentrates a man’s mind. If it is made plain survival depends on a good outcome with Brazier, we will find out their mettle which, if you feel so disinclined, I will propose to Dan Spafford myself.’
‘And after?’
If the chin was dropped to the chest to imply deep consideration, John Hawker had the less than comfortable feeling he was about to hear something already arrived at.
‘Their activities prior to recent times posed us no real problems, even if Spafford was deluded enough to think so. It also gave us more than a sprat to offer up to the Revenue if the need arose. One day, those you finger on Deal Beach may not suffice.’
‘You’re willing to let them go back to running goods?’
‘As a quid pro quo, for the departure of that swine Brazier, bruised and bloodied as he deserves to be, yes.’
The man being discussed was now with the Canterbury lawyer Pollock had pointed him towards, one Ebenezer Moat. Tall, overweight, with a sharp cast to a pair of blue eyes sunk in fleshy jowls, he was, like most of his trade, not at ease when asked for an unequivocal answer to Brazier’s enquiry. This having been posed in a general sense, Moat took refuge in long perorations on the possible grounds for annulment, added to the manifest difficulty of establishing such grounds as fact.
‘Then I find I must lay out the case as I see it.’
‘Which would be most helpful, Captain Brazier, as would a glass of wine, which aids clarification.’
A bell was rung, the article ordered and the subject of the interview held in abeyance with general chat about the state of the world, frustrating for the supplicant, who resumed his case when the wine was delivered, poured and tasted with a smacking of the lips from Moat.
‘The lady on whose behalf I am enquiring was, I believe, put in some state of stupor for a ceremony carried out against her wishes.’
‘Your relationship to this lady?’
‘Does that matter?’
‘It is very much the case that it matters. Are you a relative, for instance?’
‘No.’
The long fingers were spread. ‘Then the connection is …’
‘We had an understanding.’
‘A formal one, acknowledged, banns read, ceremonies arranged?’ The headshake was slow. ‘So the “understanding”, as you call it, would it be possible to say, was merely verbal?’
‘It was more than merely, sir, I assure you.’ The look Brazier was getting told him he would have to be open, there was no other way to proceed. ‘The lady is a widow of independent means.’
‘Forgive me for asking, Captain, but are those independent means germane to your pursuit?’
‘No,’ he growled, ‘but her brother seemed convinced it was so.’
A querying eyebrow obliged him to tell Moat of his good fortune, which led to a topping up of his glass. ‘Captain Brazier, if I’m to advise you at all, I fear you must relate to me all the details from the beginning, even if some feel uncomfortable in explanation.’
There was no choice but to agree, so he went back to meeting Betsey in Jamaica, then his pursuit of her to Deal and what had occurred subsequently, mostly Henry Tulkington’s attitude, left mysterious, since he was not going to mention his true colours. He related the vision he had witnessed of the unknown groom, as drunk as the minister who had no doubt conducted the ceremony; Betsey comatose and utterly failing to recognise or acknowledge him, as well as the distraught Aunt Sarah. He felt it would not be politic to mention pistols pointed at her nephew’s head, or the presence of several dozen other men, some bearing weapons, others seemingly cowed and disarmed, or the fact of his departure with a dazed hostage.
The scenario had been repeatedly rehashed in his mind on the way from Adisham, yet it did not come out as smoothly as it had on reflection. Indeed, Brazier felt he was making a less than comprehensive case. That said, Moat listened in silence, this only interrupted when he reached for a quill to jot down a quick note, having thrown a quick glance at the gently ticking clock on the wall behind Brazier.
‘What you describe seems to be in the nature of a crime, Captain. I wonder, am I the proper person to be telling this to?’
The temptation was to say, ‘You would not be, if I were telling you everything.’ But that could not happen, for having thought it through, he reckoned the difficulties were close to insurmountable and the dangers unquantifiable. These were conclusions reached at his own hearth, on the very night in question, staring at the flickering flames of his fire and drinking too much brandy.
Not long after his arrival in Deal, at the Three Kings where he was staying, he had met William Pitt, the King’s First Minister, who resided at Walmer Castle. An invitation to dinner had followed, in which Pitt had sought to inveigle him, by a combination of flattery, inducement and an implied threat, into searching for the source of what he contended was local and highly organised smuggling.
This was a subject on which Pitt was passionate, so much so that, in frustration at the loss of revenue to the Exchequer, he had, two years previously, ordered the burning by the army of every boat on Deal Beach. Would telling him achieve the arrest of the man who gathered taxes for the government and was, in Pitt’s own words, lauded as scrupulously honest? Could he make case
enough to get the King’s First Minister to bring to bear the power of government?
For several reasons he had decided it would not serve. First, all he had was rumour and hearsay that Tulkington was the man behind the trade Pitt was desperate to curtail. He had no direct evidence that what had been told to him, in confidence, by Saoirse Riorden, was true. To bring any kind of case he would need multiple witnesses and he possessed no great faith there were locals in Deal willing to denounce a man they apparently feared. Certainly Saoirse had made it plain she would not.
Nor, according to her, did Tulkington actually participate in the running of contraband. To bring a case that would hold water required irrefutable proof of his involvement. That could only be achieved by either catching him in the act, impossible if he did not actively get involved, or finding some record of his actions, accounts and papers that only a fool would compile and keep where they could be found.
Several other reasons why Brazier felt he could not take that course had surfaced, one being his own actions in entering Cottington Court uninvited and armed, then threatening Tulkington with a ball through his skull. The other and most telling was Betsey herself. While there was no notion of her being involved in her brother’s alleged activities, would she be caught up in any action against him? They lived and had been raised in the same house: could she credibly plead ignorance? Would a brother who had already proved to be ruthless and spiteful, knowing Brazier as the instigator of any investigation, incriminate her as an act of revenge?
Saoirse had intimated Tulkington probably had the local magistrates in his pocket, and surely any jury formed to judge him would be made up of people whom he knew. Would any of them believe he led a double life of which they knew nothing? Or if they did know, would they admit to prior knowledge? In the end his reflections had come down to one point: what was his object?
Unlike in the Caribbean, where it had been a duty, the suppression of smuggling on the East Coast had nothing to do with him or the navy. The Admiralty was adamant it was none of their concern; let the Revenue Service wear out their vessels trying to interdict the trade. The King’s Navy had other fish to cast for, like meeting and defeating the nation’s enemies in a world where a new conflict with France or Spain was ever on the horizon.
Brazier was not even sure he disapproved of smuggling, for it was common knowledge the trade supported communities that might otherwise struggle to exist. Likewise, the purchase of untaxed goods was so widespread in society, it was not seen as a crime or even kept discreet: people boasted of their acquisitions.
His object had brought him to this office. He wanted Betsey free from what he was certain was an illegal coupling, so that he could, himself, lead her up the altar both legally and contentedly. Everything else was of no consequence in comparison so, as he had previously, he dismissed the notion of using any other legal means than those provided by the Church of England.
‘I see it is the subject of much consideration,’ Moat said, the quill moving once more.
‘No, it is not.’
‘Annulment?’
‘Nothing less.’
‘Then I must bring to your attention certain facts, Captain Brazier, the first being that you are in no position to bring any kind of case. You are not a relative of the person you say has been so affected and you have admitted the connection to be tenuous.’ Seeing the thunderous look that engendered, Moat added quickly, ‘And even a blood relative would struggle, without there being witnesses to the act of enforcement.’
‘Which you could have told me some time ago.’
‘Captain, you asked for advice. I am giving you the best and most truthful I can, based on a comprehensive knowledge of the circumstances. It would be remiss to raise your hopes on a matter I suspect is very close to you heart.’
The look adopted was pensive, though time was allowed for Moat’s quill to make another note.
‘To bring a case, such as the one you outline, well? Parting the Red Sea would be easier. It requires first a written complaint from the person suffering the imposed act. Further to that, you would need depositions from some of those actually present, people who would be willing to attend a Canonical Court, to swear in person to their written evidence. Then there is the priest who conducted the ceremony …’
‘Whom, I would guess, was a full party to the wrongdoing.’
Moat was shocked and it showed. ‘That is a most telling accusation, sir, which I must warn you, might on its own have the whole case refused. The Church does not take kindly any accusation of laxity in its ecclesiastics.’
It would have been pointless for Brazier to say that, given some of the divines he had met, mostly ship’s chaplains, the Church would do well to examine its stock. For every one who was genuinely God-fearing and upright, there were twice as many who were drunkards, possible sodomites with a penchant for youth, as well as people whose lack of faith was palpable.
‘Is there any way I can proceed?’
‘Not that I can see. Bring me evidence and witnesses, drop all accusations against the priest, whom thankfully you have not named, and I would be prepared to approach the Canterbury diocese with a plea to enter a case. Lacking that, I fear you would be wasting your money.’
Which induced another silent thought. This was costing money by every word uttered. Brazier thanked Moat, even though he was unsure if he meant it. There was no point in upsetting a man who, unlikely as it seemed, he might need in the future. So he stood to take his farewell and it was at that point he found out the reasons for the quill jottings.
‘Might I suggest,’ Moat, said, handing over a sheet of paper, ‘that you take this to my clerk. You will find at the bottom of the page my fee for the work I have carried out on your behalf today. I would suggest, in the circumstances, given the complications of the case you laid out before me, it would be best settled.’
Moat did not actually say he was wasting his time, but it was implicit in both words and expression. Looking at the figure, Edward Brazier was inclined to suggest that most villains had missed their vocation. They should have taken to the law, not crime.
He might have been less censorious if he had known that Moat, who knew every divine in East Kent, wondered if it might be an idea to raise the matter with the Bishop of Dover’s chaplain, lest it turn out to be true. If it was, the case would be an extremely profitable one.
CHAPTER NINE
The information that Betsey wanted to visit her friend Annabel Colpoys, who lived nearby, was greeted by Sarah Lovell with some reservations.
‘That can only be granted by Henry.’
‘Then you must ask him on my behalf.’
‘Which I will do, when he returns.’ Betsey saw her aunt bite her lip, before adding, ‘It is my impression that, should you go out from Cottington Court, you will, at all times, be escorted.’
‘By you,’ was said with some bitterness.
‘I think Henry intends that his coachman, or some such others, should act as escorts, in case of any unpleasantness. I doubt he will allow you a horse.’
There was little doubt on the meaning of that and, even if tempted to challenge the assumption that Edward Brazier could be labelled as unpleasantness, Betsey decided there was no point. But there was another that had to be nailed.
‘And when we get to where I wish to go?’
‘Naturally, I would be required to chaperone you.’
‘Closely so?’ That got a determined nod. ‘In other words, I am not to be left alone with anyone.’
‘I suspect that would chime with Henry’s wishes.’
‘What a strange definition you have, Aunt Sarah, on the meaning of the word “chaperone”. Gaoler would seem more apposite.’
‘I think we have covered this ground previously, Elisabeth. I know you find the present situation both confusing and unpleasant, but at least I have ensured that you are married in name only, which I fought for at some risk to my own position. Henry was all for throwing you at Spafford’s
feet, but I managed to dissuade him, so a degree of gratitude might be appropriate. Now if you excuse me, I have matters to attend to. This house does not run itself.’
Betsey said no more, allowing Sarah Lovell to depart without the barbs she wanted to aim in her direction. What she must concentrate on now was a way to get into Annabel Colpoys’ hands the letter she needed delivered. If she could, Betsey had some confidence her friend would comply: she had delivered a note to Quebec House before.
Annabel lived, if not in dread of her husband Roger’s temper, then in great trepidation of his approbation, which was not forthcoming when it came to anything that might upset Henry Tulkington. Annabel had as good as admitted her certainty that Roger, in dispute with Henry over a land boundary, had fallen foul of him to the point of being in receipt of a beating, which left him bruised and bleeding in a ditch.
Whatever Annabel’s attitude, the attempt had to be made. The note she had composed would be folded to be small enough to fit in her glove, an article that she would try to leave behind, if she could not find a way to pass it over by normal means. The wording was sparse, as it had to be, no more than an assurance her marriage was a sham, added to her feeling of affection.
The latter had been the hardest to write, to put in words − without being too effusive − her feelings towards him. Betsey Langridge, as she still saw herself, was well enough raised to find difficulty in penning words of open adoration to anyone, let alone a man. Her prior attempts had ended up in the fire, to be consumed lest they be found. Some had gone to a burning, which matched the embarrassment she had felt in their composition.
There was some consideration to be put to what she was going to say regarding her sham marriage to the likes of Annabel. With Aunt Sarah witnessing every word exchanged, Betsey had to assume everything she said would be reported back to Henry. If it was condemnatory of him, the consequence would be curtailment of any excursions at all. She would, indeed, become a prisoner.
That the notion would trouble other people she had to take with a serious doubt. If she’d never personally come across the fact, it was commonly held that women were often locked away from society, the usual reason given being a weakness of the mind. Legally, until it could be overturned, this Spafford slug had the power of a husband in law, which was absolute. Outside murder, he could do what he wished, though given what had been imparted to her by her aunt, it would emanate from Henry.
A Lawless Place Page 9