Midnight Capers

by Rebecca King

  “At least we don’t have to cart him off to gaol,” Peregrine muttered, shaking his head at the state of the body.

  “It appears that a young woman has been visiting Boulton’s house quite frequently in the last couple of weeks. The farmer said he had seen her walking along the road between Willershaw and here on several occasions over the last few weeks. He says her name is Matilda but isn’t quite sure of her surname. But he knows that she lives in Willershaw and works at the King’s Arms there.”

  “Let’s go and see if we can find out a bit more about her then,” Roger muttered.

  “I thought we were going to arrest Augusta first?” When Hamish turned to look at Roger, he slid a pointed look at Dean, silently warning his boss that they had to do something to help their friend seeing as Dean was likely to get himself hurt if they didn’t. Aside from putting him out of his misery the only thing they could do was encourage Dean to go and see her. Hopefully, Dean would then talk to Pheony. If not, they were all going to suffer for a long time yet.

  “Right. Let’s go to Augusta’s house first then,” Roger sighed.

  “I will get Boulton dealt with,” Dean offered.

  “No. You won’t. You will come with us,” Roger growled, and marched off before Dean could argue with him.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Within hours, Dean was riding down the driveway toward the house that Pheony had called home. He felt as if he was getting his first real glimpse into her life. Strangely, he wanted to learn more about her rather than forget her like he had hoped he would. While large, the house wasn’t what he had expected. Paint was peeling on the window frames and door at the front of the house. The gardens, while neatly tended, still had an unkempt air about them. It was odd because Augusta tried so hard to pretend that she was wealthy when in fact the reality was that she quite clearly wasn’t.

  “How do we get in?” Luke muttered when they had circled the house and were studying the back of the property.

  “They are at home. I just saw someone in one of the upstairs windows,” Hamish whispered.

  “Then let’s go and speak with them. Where is the gaoler’s cart?” Roger asked Joshua.

  Joshua nodded toward the road, and the gaoler’s cart that was sitting just on the edge of their view of the main road running past the house.

  Minutes later, having rapped smartly on the front door, Roger stepped back to wait. He waited, and waited, and waited a few minutes more. He could hear the women squabbling, so knocked a little louder. Eventually, one of Augusta’s daughters yanked the door open.

  “What?” she demanded with a petulant pout. She squinted suspiciously at him before snapping to attention when she realised who he was.

  “I would like to speak to your mother, please,” Roger announced, stepping into the house.

  The young woman gasped at his intrusion and hastily stepped back. She opened her mouth, he suspected to order him back out of the house again. It was only the presence of the men behind him that stopped her. A little awed by having the hallway suddenly full of men, Carlotta dipped into a curtsey before scurrying into a side room without a backward look.

  Roger tipped his head and listened to the voices coming from within the room. The second he heard Augusta’s voice, he nudged the door open and stepped into the sitting room. “Madam.”

  “Ah, the Star Elite. I take it you have found her then.” Augusta glared at them as if to warn them of dire consequences if they hadn’t found Pheony.

  “We know that your ward is safe,” Roger replied noncommittally. “I am not here about Pheony. Well, not entirely.”

  “Oh?” Augusta glared at them. “Is she with that Bert again?”

  “Is there something going on between them that we should know about?” Dean demanded, ignoring the fact that Roger had been about to speak.

  “Bert and Pheony,” Carlotta scoffed only to cough uncomfortably and retreat to a window seat when her mother threw her a filthy look that was full of contempt.

  “No, but she is always talking to him about something or other. He no longer works here,” Augusta announced.

  “Do you know where he has gone?” Roger asked.

  “He said that he had been offered another position with a cousin of his.” Augusta turned and muttered something to Francis, who hurried over to a small side table. Minutes later, she handed Augusta a small piece of paper which Augusta then handed to Roger.

  He barely glimpsed at the address before tucking it into the pocket of his waistcoat.

  “Is that all? Where is she?” Augusta stared maliciously at Roger.

  “She won’t be returning here, I am afraid. I – we – have come to fetch her belongings,” Roger announced. “Tell me, when you took over her guardianship, did you move into her father’s old residence or did she move in with you?”

  “Is she in some kind of trouble?” Augusta demanded. “I will not help you or her if she is.”

  Roger looked around the shabby sitting room and wondered how much financial trouble Augusta was in. The faded, threadbare rugs, the yellowed wallpaper adorning the walls, the aged furniture that had fallen out of fashion decades earlier and warned him that she had been struggling to survive for a while. Roger’s gaze fell to Augusta’s clothing and he wondered if they were the result of some sort of scheme as well. He wondered if the way she dressed was all part of the false persona that Augusta presented to the world to try to curry favour. She had to dress in expensive clothing to present inn keepers with an appearance of wealth and social status to get them to provide her with whatever she demanded. He didn’t doubt she could be a force to be reckoned with if any of the inn keepers refused to accommodate her. He had heard her waspish behaviour for himself and knew how harried the inn keeper in Sprankley had been because of it. Ralph had been happy to furnish her with whatever she had demanded to stop her complaining and get rid of her.

  Just like the shopkeepers Morton had targeted. They were forced to appease his demands because he pretended to be an honest gentleman.

  “Please show my colleague where Pheony’s room is so that he can fetch her belongings,” Roger murmured.

  “Is this your house or does it belong to Pheony?” Dean asked before he left.

  “It is my house of course,” Augusta retorted.

  Dean sighed when he saw Roger look pointedly at him. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask, ‘why do I have to go?’ but he was too curious about Pheony not to fetch her things from her room. He wanted to see where Pheony had slept. So, Dean left Roger to talk to Augusta and followed Carlotta up the aged staircase to the second floor.

  “This was her room,” Carlotta murmured with little interest when they arrived at a battered bed chamber door.

  Dean waved the young woman away from the door when she swung it open but didn’t move out of the doorway. There was no way he was going to get any closer to her to enter the room, and so patiently waited until she stepped an arm’s length away. He then edged into the room.

  “Go back downstairs and help your mother,” Dean ordered.

  “Is there something wrong? What has she done? Have you arrested her?” Carlotta asked suddenly looking delighted at the prospect that Pheony was in trouble with the Star Elite. Her narrow eyes positively gleamed with malicious delight.

  “Pheony has done nothing wrong,” Dean replied firmly before slamming the door closed in her face. He shook his head in disgust only for his annoyance to vanish when he got his first good look at her room.

  Unsurprisingly, it was as neglected as the rest of the house. However, there were nick-nacks lying around the room that gave the place a homely feel. Curious, Dean wandered deeper into the bed chamber. This was the first time in his life he had ever ventured into a young woman’s bed chamber, especially in a domestic dwelling, without needing to arrest the occupant in question. It was odd to stand amongst a wealth of pinks, browns, and beiges, that made up the décor of her room. With a threadbare green rug beneath his boots, and aged pink curt
ains clinging desperately to the window frame, Dean had a growing suspicion that most of the things he was looking at had come from the house Pheony had shared with her father. There was something about it all that didn’t blend with the rest of the house.

  “The rest of the property’s furniture is far older than this. This is better quality.” Dean fingered the bedspread. While old and faded, it was still thick and luxuriously soft. Further, Pheony’s hairbrush and hand mirror sat atop a dresser positioned beside the window and looked untouched by time because they were made of silver which still gleamed brightly in the morning sunshine. The furniture was heavier than the rest of the house’s contents, and the knick-knacks scattered oddly around the room bore no relation to a bed chamber. They were the kind of ornaments, or special mementos, one would keep around a house because they held special significance. A small enamel sat beside her bed. A large ornate mirror sat on the wall opposite her bed. A silver locket and elaborately fringed shawl sat atop a dresser together with several small pieces of porcelain.

  Promising himself that he would return to fetch everything soon, Dean packed the belongings he could carry into a trunk and a large carpet bag, which he found tucked away in a cupboard in the corner of the room.

  “Are you all right?” Hamish asked quietly from the doorway nearly half an hour later.

  Dean nodded. “She kept a lot of things from her childhood, as much as she could fit in here, I think.” He was oddly touched by it all.

  “It’s pretty,” Hamish announced. “Like she is.”

  Dean threw him a warning look. “Don’t start.”

  “Well, what are you going to do, eh? Hand her these belongings and ride out of her life again? If you are going to do that, I may as well take it all to her,” Hamish offered.

  “I need to,” Dean replied. “She isn’t to be dallied with.” The words were out before he could contemplate the wisdom of uttering them. Dean mentally winced when Hamish’s brows shot up.

  “It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?” Hamish growled. “You should have considered that before you decided to take her to your bed chamber to talk to her that night.”

  “It wasn’t planned,” Dean sighed.

  “I know; too much ale, too little sleep,” Hamish muttered. “Do you need a hand, or should we start to round everyone up?”

  “Round them up. I think I have enough of Pheony’s belongings ready. We can deliver these things to her at her new address now and come back for the rest another time,” Dean replied. “I will be down in a minute.”

  Half an hour later, Dean was very thoughtful as he descended the stairs for a second time with the last of Pheony’s belongings that he intended to take to her. He found Roger staring moodily out of the window while listening to Augusta recount her visit to her friend. When he appeared in the doorway, he caught Roger’s eye and nodded.

  “Right, well, it is time for us to leave,” Roger interrupted, halting Augusta’s monologue. “I am afraid that you all have to come with us.”

  “Oh, wonderful, an outing,” Francis enthused, clapping her hands together. “I shall go and fetch my shawl.”

  “Stay down here, miss,” Roger warned. “You can take your cloak with you when you leave. You are going to need it where you are going.”

  “Where are we going?” Carlotta looked from Roger, to Dean, and then back to Roger. It was the stony expression on Roger’s face that deadened her excitement.

  Roger turned to Augusta and announced: “I am placing you under arrest for absconding from the Dog and Duck in Sprankley without paying your bill.” He ran a stern gaze over all the women. “All of you.”

  “There has been some sort of misunderstanding,” Augusta blustered. “We are not thieves. How dare you come in here and threaten to arrest us.”

  “I am not threatening you, madam. I am arresting you,” Roger corrected. “Here. Now. Today. For refusing to pay for goods and services provided to you during your stay at Sprankley.”

  “I paid the man,” Augusta snapped.

  “How much?” Dean demanded. “How much did you pay him?”

  Augusta’s mouth flapped open and closed a few times while she tried to mentally calculate how much had been consumed during her stay. When she eventually named an amount, it went nowhere near what the inn keeper had told them she had used.

  “Well, he is lying. It is his word against mine. I paid the bill and that is final. Prove that I didn’t.”

  “I can prove it, madam,” Roger announced. “You see, one of the maids watched you sneak out of the building. By the time she had summoned the inn keeper, though, you had left. Further, the address you gave the inn keeper when you signed the guest book isn’t a real one. Now, why would you give the inn keeper a false address unless you didn’t want him to find you again? And why wouldn’t you want him to find you again?”

  “Because she had no intention of paying her bill,” Dean finished for him.

  Roger nodded. “So, the false address in the guest book leads me to believe that you intended to stay at that tavern but had no intention of paying for what you used. So, like I have said, you and your daughters are under arrest.” When Augusta made no attempt to get out of her seat, Roger wondered if his men were going to have to carry her out of the house with her still sitting in it. “However much you wish to argue with me, madam, you are going to gaol.”

  “Have you arrested Pheony already? Is that why she isn’t with you?” Augusta asked.

  “Pheony didn’t stay in her room, did she?” Roger pressed.

  “No, the damned harlot stayed somewhere else.”

  “She left because she knew what you were up to, didn’t she?” Dean had to know if Pheony had lied to him when she had claimed she hadn’t known what they had been doing.

  “Pheony never knew,” Francis interrupted. “If we had told her she would have blabbed to the magistrate. She hated us.”

  Sophie nodded. “She hated us and would have objected to us doing it.”

  “But you were stealing. She would have been right to object,” Dean countered.

  To his disgust, the women started bicker and blame each other for the mess they were in, and for being the one who had decided to try to leave without paying. Amongst it all, Roger heard the inadvertent confession and smiled with supreme satisfaction.

  “Jesus,” Daniel hissed, shaking his head at the volume of screeching.

  “Get them out of here.” Roger signalled Luke through the window, who whistled to the driver of the gaoler’s cart.

  It took a lot of shepherding by the men from the Star Elite to round up the women and get them into the cage on the back of the cart. Augusta needed a hand to get her ample girth into the conveyance, but eventually sat behind the bars glaring malevolently out at them.

  “This isn’t the last you have heard of this,” she hissed. “I am going to sue you all.”

  “But we don’t have any money, mother,” Francis reminded her.

  “Oh, shut up,” Augusta snarled, tugging her cloak around her shoulders. She stared moodily at the house they left behind as the cart took them off to gaol and refused to even look at her wailing daughters.

  Roger knew it was going to be a while before the women would see the house again, and when they did eventually get released from gaol, they would have a property that showed even more signs of decay. However, that wasn’t his problem.

  “Right, let’s go,” he announced to his colleagues when the cart had turned out of the end of the drive.

  “Where are we going now?” Dean demanded, almost dreading Roger’s reply.

  Roger locked the front door and pocketed the key. “We are going to speak to the solicitor to find out if Peony’s guardianship is still legally binding. Then we are going to inform Pheony of what he says so she can get on with her life. I should like to speak to Bert again too.”

  “Why are we getting involved in this?” Dean asked with a scowl.

  “Do you not want to help her?” Roger
asked, looking disgusted. He glared at Dean, and for the first time wondered if he really knew his friend. “Do you know something? I would hate to think I have been such a poor judge of character with you. I thought you were an honourable gentleman.”

  Stunned, Dean blinked at him. “I am. I just don’t think that cutting her off from her guardian is the right way to go about helping her, that’s all.”

  “Pheony’s behaviour hasn’t warned you that she has already made her mind up that she is better off without them then,” Roger snorted. It wasn’t really a question.

  “She threw herself out of a window to escape, Dean,” Hamish added. “It is bloody obvious that she has no intention of coming back here. She is hiding because she wants to stay away. We are going to help her along a little by making sure that she has the freedom to get on with her life as she sees fit without the need to hide. To do that we have to sever all ties and connections with that unruly mob of witches. It is up to you and her to decide what you both want to do with your lives. If you can’t do that together then you will have to do it apart and be done with it.”

  Hamish busied himself with mounting his horse, as did the rest of the men. They left Dean in quiet contemplation all the way to the solicitor’s office. While nobody spoke, there was an air of quiet condemnation about all the men that left Dean in no doubt that they weren’t happy with him for his treatment of her. If he was honest, Dean wasn’t happy with himself about his conduct either.

  “Sirs, it is a pleasure to welcome you to my office,” the solicitor cried having rushed out of his office to greet the estimable gentlemen from the Star Elite. He waved them all into his cluttered office and scurried around his desk. “Please, do take a seat.” He rushed around for a few moments carrying heavy piles of papers, relocating mounds of books, and fetching more chairs until everyone was seated. Eventually, Roger managed to get him to sit still long enough to explain why they were there.