A Lawless Place

by David Donachie

  A woman who rarely sat down for long, she went to the drawing room and took up a chair in front of the unnecessary fire, one lit to keep the master happy, looking into it as if seeking a solution. Something had changed in their relationship, just as it had between her and Elisabeth, though in that case it had done so for the worse.

  It was slow to surface, but come it did, and the notion of an alteration vis-à-vis Henry warmed her more than the blazing logs. But what animated it? Was it need or fear? The need to control and watch Elisabeth, or a dread that she might turn against him and act as a witness for her niece, one so potent the marriage could be annulled? As well as warmth, there was a delicious feeling of power, one she had not felt since lording it within Canterbury society.

  ‘To be enjoyed as long as it lasts.’

  ‘Sorry, Mrs Lovell.’

  Spinning round, she saw an under footman with a scuttle of logs. Thinking the room empty, he had entered without knocking, which got him an immediate rebuke, more harsh than necessary due to her being surprised as well. The decision she made then was one to make her blood course, an exercise of what she saw as her new power, though few would have rated it worth the description.

  ‘No more wood in here, it makes too much mess. Coal from now on.’

  That acknowledged, she went up to knock on Elisabeth’s door. As soon as it opened she said, with a sweet smile, seen by the recipient as deeply insincere, ‘You say you wish to visit the Colpoys again?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Then send a note over this morning, asking if you can call this afternoon.’

  ‘Henry has given permission?’

  ‘No, Elisabeth,’ was delivered firmly. ‘I have decided it should be allowed. I take it you will be going out for your usual walk?’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘I would find it obliging if you would find me and tell me first.’

  Daisy Trotter was sat on the long pebble strand of Sandwich Flats looking at the twin luggers owned by Dan Spafford, pulled high up the beach and well out of the water so even the highest tide would not trouble them. He was wondering what to do, if anything, about them. Would a sum of money get Dan free and would selling the boats meet the purpose? Would that be approved, given they were his sole way of making a crust?

  Daisy had never realised before how much he depended on Dan. It came as a jolt to realise how the way he had seen their relationship was the complete opposite of the truth. His old friend flattered him by letting him think, for old time’s sake, his advice was not only important, it was welcomed, heeded and needed. In truth, Dan disposed and he obeyed – perhaps a decent payment for the saving of, if not his life, then …?

  The large and hairy bugger had had an eye for handsome young Dan and would not leave him be. It had taken time before the matter could be sorted, with both unsuspecting what was coming. The sodomite had cornered Dan on deck during a dark and cloudy night, with a bit of sea running off the Skagerrak. Hidden by the man’s bulk and pleading to be spared what was being suggested, Dan had not even known his assailant had been knifed. He might have guessed by the time the third strike went in.

  Daisy’s victim had turned to deal with him, screaming blue murder. Quick as a flash, on spotting Daisy and the slight gleam of his blade, Dan had whipped a marlinspike out of the rack by the falls and thumped the sod over the crown with all his young lad’s strength. Stunned, Daisy got his blade into the ribcage, seeking the heart. Dan never knew if he found it, only that the bugger crumpled to the deck.

  How they found the strength to lift his dead weight and tip him over the side was as much a mystery. The blood was there for all to see come morning, while all knew one of their number was missing and what he was like. If they had an inkling of who had done the dirty, no one let on. It was logged as a mystery and one soon forgotten once the deck had been sanded and swabbed.

  They’d been like two peas in a pod ever since and, if Dan knew what Daisy secretly longed for and never dared say out loud, he kept his own counsel. Now was just like being on that dark and rolling deck again. The man he loved was in danger and it was down to him to sort it.

  Betsey was still wondering, as she walked, about that exchange with her aunt. No one could accuse Sarah Lovell of being meek, but for her to imply, and she had, that she was acting without Henry’s approval, or perhaps even his knowledge, came as something of a shock. Having gnawed on it for a while, Betsey reckoned it an aberration; there was no way she would defy her nephew. The thought evaporated as she spied Upton leading another horse, this time a big bay stallion.

  ‘Mr Upton, do we have another sick animal?’

  ‘No, ma’am,’ came with a meaningful look. ‘This one’s fully fit and being taken down for stud duty. Just thought I’d come this path, then make my way round to the north gate for a bit of a change. I hope you don’t mind.’

  ‘If you’re going that way, it would please me to accompany you. I too could use a change of scenery.’

  As they began to walk, their heads either side of the equine head, Upton posed a question. It was pronounced in a manner that told Betsey he had worked himself up to it, so strangled was his voice.

  ‘If I was to say the servants are all in a lather about what’s been goin’ on, would you mind it?’

  ‘The servants?’ Betsey asked cautiously.

  ‘Not all, I admit,’ Upton gabbled, ‘but to include them who’s been here a long time, those who knew you as a …’

  The inability to finish prompted a rare smile from Betsey, as well as a question. ‘Knew me as something of a handful?’

  ‘Never that, miss − sorry − ma’am. We can’t help feeling you’se troubled, not that we can do much about it, easing matters, like.’

  What to say? It sounded too outlandish in her head, never mind spoken out loud, the stuff of silly romances in which a hero rescues a damsel in distress from an evil baron. She didn’t want to explain in detail, it was too diminishing, but nor, if the head groom was to be relied upon, could she let such an opportunity pass.

  ‘All I will say, Mr Upton, is that I am denied the liberty to depart Cottington Court as and when I please.’

  ‘And that you would wish for?’

  The stallion was slightly startled by a pair of pigeons noisily exiting a full-leaf tree, which had it throw its head in the air, with Upton pulling hard on the bridle. His face was briefly visible and on it she observed a look of genuine concern, one which decided Betsey to take the plunge.

  ‘What I require is the liberty to leave this house and grounds and never return, on foot if I must, but …’

  He had to know what she was suggesting; not only that he let her out through the north gate, but that he provide a horse as well. The stallion’s head had been lowered again, so it was impossible to read Upton’s expression as he replied.

  ‘To be thought on, Mrs …’

  ‘Langridge, Mr Upton. And if you hear me referred to by any other name, give it no credence. On this occasion, I think I have walked with you far enough. Perhaps another day.’

  ‘I recall you used to be fond of dropping into the stables from time to time. Might be a notion you should go back to doing that.’

  ‘Walked an’ talked, Mr Creevy,’ the young lad said, he having been sent to follow Upton at a distance. Ten years old, he was sprightly, freckled and missing his front teeth, bonded to Cottington to learn the gardening trade. ‘Each side of the horse too.’

  ‘You weren’t spotted?’

  That got a furious shake of the head. ‘Take a sharp eye to catch me.’

  ‘Well, keep it to yourself. A loose word will see you out the gate with a bruised arse.’

  ‘Wouldn’t say the story, Grady,’ Upton intoned, his face sad. ‘Seemed to me like she was shamed by it.’

  ‘Since you’ve no idea of what happened, how could you know that?’

  ‘A feeling. Might be she’ll open up if we talk a few more times. I think she trusts me.’ Grady started to wheeze, looking to de
liver humorous riposte on being trusted, but Upton cut off his sally. ‘Stow it.’

  ‘It’s you who might be stowing it if Tulkington finds out. I told you to have a care.’

  ‘I ain’t daft, Grady, an’ that’s another one that don’t need your humour. I will not walk as often as I’ve been doin’ of late, in case som’at is suspected. You know what a nose the master has.’

  ‘Make a good truffle hound, he would.’

  ‘Best not give him owt to sniff at then?’

  ‘You’re the one doing that, friend.’ Grady tapped his head. ‘I ain’t as short on a shilling as you.’

  ‘Have a care your Christian charity don’t show.’

  Betsey, with no one to talk to, was thinking on the same subject, alternating between the fear of a trap, then castigating herself for thinking that of a man who had always been kind to her. Had he got the drift? If she was to get away, he would have to unlock the gate and let her out on a horse, which would require a saddle. A reasonably competent rider, Betsey had no notion to go bareback over ploughed fields and pasture, with fences and hedges to jump if there was a pursuit.

  There were side-saddles in the stables but how could one be taken to where it needed to be without exciting comment? Sarah Lovell didn’t ride and was, in any case, in terror of horses, so that left only her. Walking a horse was one thing, doing so with one saddled up would look bizarre. The first thing to do was visit the stables as invited, to see how the land lay and how long, in terms of time, she might have to wait.

  The knock at the door interrupted her thoughts and she went to open it to find her aunt there. ‘A note came back from Annabel, I hope you do not object to my reading it?’

  Betsey was suddenly full of fear. What would Annabel say if she thought she was replying to her? Might she mention the note to Edward? Her heart was in her mouth until Sarah Lavell said, ‘She is happy to receive us at three of the clock.’ The brow furrowed. ‘Odd she refers to the fact of my coming too. That you never mentioned.’

  Nor will I mention, Betsey thought, that you read my note to Annabel without asking, so the reply was larded with sarcasm. ‘I daresay she knows I never go anywhere without first begging you to accompany me.’

  That was taken badly. ‘Have a care, Elisabeth. Do not tempt me to replicate your brother’s ways of behaving.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Having checked his goods were as near as they should be to what was expected, and a note made of discrepancies, Henry Tulkington could make his way back to Deal and the Lodge in which he was a Master Mason. It was here that the important people and decision-makers of the town and surroundings gathered to celebrate their craft. Magistrates, men of business, the owners of large farms or sailing ships, plus the numerous chandlers who supplied them.

  The vicars and deacons of the local churches were attendees, also those of the brotherhood merely passing through, at temporary anchor in the Downs. Likewise, many of the naval and marine officers stationed in Deal at any one time would attach themselves as affiliated members. So would the Trinity House pilots, who saw ships down the Thames and back up again.

  It was in these rooms that various appointments were made. Who should hold the various plums in the gift of the Deal community, such as a harbour master, for a place lacking a harbour. The duty involved seeing to the orderly berthing of ships and to extract the fees due for the right to anchor, a portion of the revenue retained by the office holder.

  The beach within the boundaries of Deal was no free for all either; if you wished to haul up a lugger, hoy or fishing boat on to the shingle, you had to pay a fee to the Beach Comptroller. He, not wanting to spend his life chasing his dues, tended to let them out in blocks for others to exploit. Likewise, he would issue a licence to the wherries − small boats, which transported passengers to and from their ships

  That the brotherhood looked after each other’s interests was a given, but there would be no shame shown for that being so: it was seen as the natural order of things. The world required to be ruled by people of substance, with a stake in the maintenance of the law of the land. Mayhem would ensue if the lower orders were granted any powers.

  To those who might complain of their vice-like grip on local affairs, they would counter with their record on charitable giving. Money was raised by Lodge members for the care of foundlings, as well as women widowed by the loss of their man between the shore and the Goodwins, a not uncommon occurrence. It was within these walls the collection had been made which part compensated the beach community for the loss of their boats due to Billy Pitt’s arson.

  Henry had been inducted as a young man and was now a person of real standing, easily a match for his father. Likewise, his Uncle Dirley was a brother who had risen high in the Grand Lodge, where he mixed with the male offspring of King George, as well as a very large number of members of the House of Peers. It was said as many decisions of importance were made there as in Westminster.

  In the Deal Lodge, Henry would meet with those who could, if they chose, cause him difficulties. Not that such things were allowed to fester; as soon as any problem surfaced, it would be smoothed over, either by support for a cherished place or project, a gift of some very superior contraband and, in one or two cases, a downright bribe. It was also the case that no brother was required to pay John Hawker anything other than their taxes.

  ‘Admiral Braddock, I find you in good spirits, I hope?’

  Henry was sitting at a table with a coffee pot, and seeing Braddock making to join him, he signalled for another cup.

  ‘Tolerable, Tulkington, tolerable. Missed you at my soirée yesterday.’

  ‘I was sadly away on business. I take it Mr Pitt attended an event in his honour?’

  ‘He did,’ came with a glum expression, as the admiral watching his coffee being poured.

  ‘Can I assume, from your look, he gave you the usual lecture?’

  ‘Nail on the head, Tulkington. Why am I not out catching smugglers, the booby? He’s had it from me, as well as my predecessor, that it’s not a task for the navy. I’m damned if I know why he still bothers asking. If he wants us to chase contraband, he must get a bill to do it through Parliament, as well as a vote for the funds for an expanded role.’

  ‘Ah, Parliament, of which he’s supposedly the master.’

  The ruddy sailor’s face took on a sly look. ‘But he ain’t, is he, much as he would have it otherwise?’

  Henry Tulkington wanted to gainsay the sentiment, for if governance was a bear pit in which action was ever stymied, Pitt had fared better than most, after the near ruinous expenditure brought on by Lord North’s handling of the American war. The public debt was down and still falling, even if he had bought in several sinecures, posts drawing an income for no work, which he saw as inimical to the public good.

  ‘Elizabeth Carter was there,’ Braddock added. ‘The eternal spinster. Too clever by half, that woman.’

  ‘I didn’t know she was back from town,’ was said with more interest than was truly felt, which allowed him to ask another question. ‘What about that captain who’s taken Quebec House? Name escapes me.’

  ‘Brazier?’

  ‘That’s the fellow. It’s being said he’s a friend of Pitt.’

  ‘Not if what I saw of them is true. Observed them talking and, I’d say, there was little love lost. Brazier looked as if he was giving Pitt a piece of his mind.’

  ‘Strange cove, nevertheless, wouldn’t you say?’

  That got a chortle. ‘If you’d ever been in the navy, Tulkington, you’d scarce say that. We have some ripe specimens in our cabins. But Brazier has got some baggage.’

  ‘Really! More coffee?’

  Braddock was very eager to tell Henry that which he already knew about Brazier’s relations with Prince William, albeit he was short on details of what had brought on the court martial.

  ‘Found for the premier and went on to reprimand Sailor Bill, who is, by all accounts, a fellow with a foul temper.’


  ‘A royal prerogative.’

  ‘Not one he’d exercise if he was under my command,’ Braddock huffed.

  That was taken with a large pinch of salt. Tulkington might know little of the navy, but he knew a lot about men like Braddock, for whom ambition topped all other considerations. This would make him putty in Prince William’s hands as he grovelled for royal favour. If he detested Brazier, it did no harm to note he was not of that ilk.

  ‘He’s got another bit of bother on his plate,’ came with the smug air of a fellow knowing he possessed inside knowledge. The querying look from Tulkington had the admiral shuffle his backside forward on the chair, so he was closer, which allowed him to drop his voice. ‘Some malarkey in the West Indies, it’s rumoured. His commanding officer pegged out in questionable circumstances, I’m told.’

  ‘Pegged out?’

  ‘Found the deep six, or was despatched there in short order. Next thing you know, Brazier’s swimming in gold.’

  ‘Are you saying the two are connected?’

  Braddock threw himself back into the chair, this time with an enigmatic and superior smile. ‘Depends if you believe in coincidence.’

  The man Henry had come to meet appeared over Braddock’s shoulder – he waved to indicate recognition and that he would be with him shortly – while Henry was wondering how he could probe further without revealing how well he knew of Brazier and his past.

  ‘It’s all rumour, mind, Tulkington, nothing definite.’

  ‘Still, an interesting tale. Is what is implied being investigated?’

  ‘Not as far as I know.’ The face closed up and Braddock looked angry. ‘But then, what the devil do I know, stuck in this godforsaken—’ He stopped himself from cursing Deal as his personal backwater, sitting where he was and with whom. What he said next was to cover for a degree of embarrassment. ‘I’ll let you know if I hear any more.’