The Fat Badger Society (Drusilla Davanish Mysteries Book 2) Page 11

  ‘Flatterer.’ I laughed and he asked, 'Who else knows about this?’

  ‘Only Mr. Reevers and Mr. East.’

  He smiled at me in an enigmatic way. 'I see,’ he murmured. 'Am I right in thinking you particularly don’t want Mr Hamerton inquiring into what you are doing?’ I looked across at him, but didn’t answer, aware I had underestimated his intelligence. A gleam of humour lit his eyes. ‘So my role is simply to fob people off.’

  'Please----’ I begged affectionately.

  He left me to it then, and I almost called him back to tell him about the cliff top attack, but decided to wait until he and my aunt were together, so I would only have to explain it once.

  Mr. Reevers arrived soon after and I received him in the library. The instant Luffe shut the door behind him I demanded eagerly, ‘Did you see the body?’

  ‘Yes, but the constable was already there, so I couldn’t examine the man. Not that I think it would have helped.’

  ‘How on earth did the constable find out?’ I asked in exasperation, indicating he should take a seat. ‘I didn’t tell him.’

  ‘Apparently Mr. Sims bumped into him on his way back to the parsonage, and thought to save you the trouble of contacting him. I’m afraid the constable didn’t recognise the man.’

  ‘A pity,’ I sighed, but I wasn’t that surprised. I explained in detail what had happened on the cliff top, and took the Fat Badger token from my pocket. ‘I found this on the ground.’

  I gave him the token and he fingered it thoughtfully. ‘When exactly did Mr. Hamerton appear?’

  ‘After the thin man fell over the cliff and the other one was still groaning on the ground.’

  A smile played around the corners of his lips. ‘I do wish I’d been there to see that. ‘

  ‘I wish you had too. Particularly when I thought Mr. Hamerton was going to shoot me.’

  He considered for a moment. ‘Yes, I see. The other two had failed, and you think he came to----’

  ‘Finish me off? That’s exactly what I thought. Later, after Mr. Sims arrived, he told me the pistol he carried wasn’t loaded.’ Mr. Reevers did not comment and I went on, ‘I think I know why the constable didn’t recognise the dead man. I’m almost sure he was French.’

  'What makes you say that?’

  'He shouted something as he fell. I think it was an oath of some sort------’

  'More than likely,’ he grinned. 'If I fell over a cliff, I’m sure I would—'

  'No doubt, but what I mean is, if it had been an English oath I would have recognised it.'

  'Would you?’ he inquired innocently, failing to quite control the twitching around the corners of his mouth. ‘I must say ma’am, I am deeply shocked. Tell me, how many English oaths do you actually know?’

  I couldn’t help laughing. 'That isn’t what I meant, as you know very well. I-----'

  ‘But my dear girl, you said-----'

  ‘Will you please be serious, Mr Reevers?’ I begged rather unsteadily. ‘The man spoke in a language that wasn’t English. I think it was French, but I can’t be sure.’

  In a tone of polite inquiry, he ventured, 'Would you like me to repeat some French oaths? Just to see if you recognise them, I mean?’

  I choked back the laughter rising in my throat. 'I would not.’

  Taking out his handkerchief he mopped his brow in mock relief. 'Thank heavens for that.’

  'I wish you would be sensible,’ I chided. 'This is a serious matter.’

  'Indeed it is,’ he said, leaning back in his chair. But he was still smiling.

  ‘I think the burly individual was Mr. Silver. The description in Septimus’s journal fits him.’

  ‘Does it indeed. Now that is interesting.’

  ‘I’m so glad you think so,’ I retorted in acid tones. ‘Personally I found the whole episode rather frightening.’

  His eyes softened. ‘You dealt with them admirably, but I don’t understand why they attacked you. Spies normally avoid drawing attention to themselves. Their job involves a good deal of listening, watching, and reporting back. Mostly no-one knows they are there, which is why they are so difficult to find.’

  'Is that what you do in France?’

  'I try to, yes.’ He gazed at the cardboard symbol again, pursing his lips. 'We know the French are infiltrating the corresponding societies. Even so, I don’t understand why they would want to------’

  He stopped, but I finished it for him. ‘Kill me? That is what they meant to do, isn’t it?’

  ‘Indeed,’ he said, lowering his eyes. ‘They must have had a very compelling reason for attacking you. Something vital to their cause.’ He was right, but it was to be a long time before I found out what that reason was.

  Later, when I told my aunt and uncle about the attack, I let them think the dead man had simply fallen over the cliff by accident, even so they still reacted with horror. My uncle went rather pale while Aunt Thirza scolded me for going out without a groom.

  ‘It was very foolish of me,’ I agreed. ‘I won’t do so again.’

  That took the wind out of her sails, but she still went on at length about how she’d warned me time and again not to ride alone. ‘But you never take any notice.’

  ‘Well, I’m taking notice now. You were right and I was wrong.’

  Considerably mollified, she declared, ‘In that case we’ll say no more about it.’ And she immediately launched into a long tirade of things I ought to do, but did not. Eventually she ran out of my misdemeanours and went off to write a letter to her daughter, Lucie. Once the door had closed, my uncle, who looked more than a little troubled, asked, ‘What are you not telling us, Drusilla?’

  ‘Uncle,’ I protested. ‘I----’ I stopped, for he was looking at me from under his brows in a way that told me he knew I was about to lie to him, and I saw that it would hurt him if I did. And I was far too fond of him to do that. ‘Oh, very well, but not a word to Aunt Thirza. Or anyone else for that matter.’

  I told him how the man had really fallen over the cliff, which turned his cheeks even whiter, but all he said was, ‘You won’t go out without Mudd in future, will you?’

  ‘I give you my word I won’t. Nor will I go without a loaded pistol.’

  A faint smile flickered across his lips. ‘I can’t help wishing my dear, that Mr. Pitt had asked someone else to do whatever it is you are doing.’

  ‘I don’t,’ I assured him cheerfully. ‘It’s the most fascinating thing I have ever done.’

  ‘And the most dangerous.’

  That was true, and while I did not actually enjoy that part of it, neither did it give me nightmares, but before I could say any of this, Luffe came into the room with a letter that had arrived by hand. ‘The groom is waiting for a reply, my lady.’

  It was from Julia. Her sickness had passed as suddenly as Dr. Redding had promised, and I was invited to an informal nuncheon party the day after next. Delighted, I wrote a quick note of acceptance. The groom had barely gone when Luffe came in again with another letter.

  ’My goodness,’ my uncle said. ‘We are popular today. Who’s this one from, Luffe?’

  ‘The parsonage, sir.’ And informing us the groom had already gone, he left the room.

  I opened the letter and groaned. ‘The Uptons are holding one of their musical evenings on Saturday. We are all invited.’

  Even my uncle heaved a sigh, having endured their gatherings before. ‘Well, we have no real choice but to go. I expect your aunt will enjoy it.’

  ‘She’ll be the only one who does.’

  ‘Come now, Drusilla, that is a little uncharitable.’

  ‘Possibly,’ I admitted with a faint smile. ‘But it is also the truth.’

  In the morning I wrote a reluctant acceptance to the Uptons, and then went for a ride along the cliff top, accompanied by Mudd. As we neared Hokewell I saw Mr Sims sitting on the cliff edge reading what looked like a very thick academic book. I stopped to exchange a few words, and although he spoke perfectly poli
tely, I did not miss the initial irritation on his face at being interrupted.

  ‘A beautiful day, Mr Sims,’ I said.

  ‘Indeed,’ he agreed, while holding a finger in the place he’d reached in the book.

  ‘I hope the Island air is improving your health.’

  ‘I believe so, ma’am.’

  When he didn’t elaborate I inquired, ‘I trust your illness wasn’t of a serious nature.’

  ‘Nothing more than a recurring fever, ma’am. But my strength is returning now.’

  ‘Well, I won’t stay chattering. I expect you came up here for some peace.’

  He inclined his head. ‘The parsonage is never quiet, ma’am. And I like to read every day.’

  I went on my way, puzzled that he’d come to the Uptons to recuperate, when he must have known that life with his uncle would be anything but quiet, for the dratted man never stopped talking. And I wondered why he had really come to the Island. Not to recover from illness, that was certain. For, he appeared to be in excellent health. Whatever his real reason was, he was clearly prepared to put up with the shortcomings at the parsonage.

  Leaving him, I rode along to Dittistone and then up onto the Downs. At the top I came to a halt, enjoying the peace and beauty of the hills all around me. I dismounted and handed Orlando’s reins to Mudd. ‘I’ll walk for a while, John.’

  I strolled along the hillside, the warm breeze in my face, while Mudd followed slowly on horseback, leading Orlando. Nothing disturbed me here except the bleating of the sheep, the shrieking gulls and the occasional snort from Orlando. Way below in the wide bay, the breakers continued to crash onto the sand and rush to the foot of the cliffs. Out at sea the breeze filled the sails of the ships making their way along the island’s west coast.

  I needed to think carefully about the cliff top attack. I still felt a trifle shaky, for Mr. Silver and his companion had obviously meant to kill me. They could easily have shot me, yet the pistol had been fired into the air instead. Clearly they had orders to make my death look like an accident. If I had gone over the cliff, and the fall had failed to kill me, I felt certain they would have remedied the matter instantly with a convenient rock. I had indeed been very fortunate to escape with my life.

  But why did they want me out of the way? Mr. Reevers believed they must have had a compelling reason to risk drawing attention to themselves. Yet, I couldn’t see that I’d learnt anything of vital importance. I only wished I had.

  And then there was the co-incidence of Mr. Hamerton turning up, pointing a gun at me, when one man was dead and the other lay groaning on the ground. Would he have shot me if Mr. Sims hadn’t appeared? He’d said the pistol wasn’t loaded, but was that true? Since then he had behaved perfectly normally. I had, of course, thanked him for intervening.

  I was also very concerned about the fast growing friendship between Mr. Hamerton and Richard. It did seem to have made Richard a little happier, which pleased Julia, but it was obvious his troubles had not gone away.

  Deciding I’d walked long enough, I climbed back into the saddle and rode along with Mudd at walking pace, discussing the Fat Badger situation with him. ‘It seems to me we’re getting nowhere. We don’t know if Mr. Hamerton is involved with the society, or where they are meeting now, or what he wanted from the smugglers at Blackgang.’

  ‘Well, my lady, I could ask my father if he can find out.’ Mudd’s father probably knew every smuggler in this part of the Island. ‘It might not be easy. There’s a lot of rivalry between the gangs.’

  The men at Blackgang were notorious for their violence, and I urged, ‘He’s not to put himself in any danger, John. I don’t want him getting hurt.’

  ‘He won’t do that, my lady. He’s a wily old devil. If he can help, he will.’

  ‘In that case, I would be grateful if you would speak to him.’ I suggested he went that afternoon and stayed as long as was necessary. ‘I shan’t go out again today.’

  It was a lovely sunny day and when I arrived home to find a letter from my godmother awaiting me, I took it out into the garden to read. Sitting on the seat near the pond, I broke the seal, smiling in anticipation, for her letters were always a delight. And I was soon chuckling over her description of her travels through Yorkshire.

  I read it twice, then put it in my pocket and strolled down through the colourful flower beds to the walled garden, where I saw Mr. Hamerton sitting in an arbour, reading. Hearing me approach he looked up, and instantly got to his feet.

  I smiled at him. ‘Don’t let me disturb you, Mr. Hamerton.’ Assuring me I was doing nothing of the sort, he asked if I had recovered from yesterday’s dreadful attack. ‘I think so,’ I said, seating myself in the arbour. Watching the bees going in and out of some nearby foxgloves, I commented, ‘Aren’t they fascinating? They never seem to stop working.’

  Sitting beside me he said, ‘I’ve been watching them too. And the butterflies.’

  ‘I suppose it’s a bit early in the day for moths.’

  ‘Some do come out in daylight,’ he informed me in his quiet way, and spreading his arms to encompass everything around us, commented, ‘I must say ma’am, I do admire your walled garden. I mean to have one when I move.’

  ‘With flowers that attract moths and butterflies?’

  ‘Exactly so, ma’am,’ he answered with enthusiasm.

  ‘Have you definitely settled on the house in Dittistone?’

  ‘I have. It is exactly what I want.’ And told me he’d bought the contents of the wine cellar too, as poor Mrs. Bush no longer had a use for it. He went on talking about the house until I managed to move the conversation around to Richard, determined to discover if he knew what was worrying him.

  ‘Richard is very kindly teaching me to sail,’ he said. ‘And I’ve already seen a yacht that would suit me perfectly.’

  ‘You have been busy,’ I declared pleasantly. ‘First a house and now a yacht.’

  ‘No point in wasting time, ma’am. One never knows how much of it one has left.’

  ‘Indeed not,’ I agreed, reminded of yesterday’s attack. ‘You are very wise to take advantage of Richard being at home. I imagine he’ll be back at sea before long.’

  His hesitation was so slight I wouldn’t have noticed it if I hadn’t been watching for any hint that Richard had confided in him. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I suppose he will.’ He pointed out a reddish moth on a stone. ‘Look at that pretty cinnabar, Lady Drusilla ----’

  ‘Mr. Hamerton,’ I cut in, taking the direct approach. ‘Do you know what’s troubling Richard?’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Mr. Hamerton’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he avoided my gaze, a reaction that confirmed my belief Richard was in serious trouble. And that he knew very well what it was. If he hadn’t known, he would have been puzzled, or concerned, or both, not guarded as he was now. But he covered it well. ‘I do know he wishes he was at sea fighting the French.’

  I had already learnt that Mr. Hamerton kept his emotions under strict control at all times, and never spoke without thinking. Thus, I responded, ‘I’m sure you’re right. Richard has always loved the sea.’

  ‘As I am beginning to as well, ma’am.’His relief, that I did not pursue the matter, was barely perceptible, except again I was watching for it. He said, ‘When I was a boy I rather fancied myself as a pirate.’ I laughed dutifully, aware he was trying to lead the conversation away from Richard, and he went on, ‘I would have been hopeless. I’m a poor shot, I can’t fence, and I’m useless at fisticuffs.’

  We sat talking for some time about the horrors going on in France in the name of liberty, of the war, and the corresponding societies, but at no time did he say anything out of place. I was about to get up and leave him when he said, ‘Lady Drusilla, might I ask a small favour?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’ve started to hire servants for my new house, including a first class groom. A man called Bridge. His last employer died a short time ago, which has left him
without a job and a home. As I don’t move into my new house until the first of July, I wondered if it would be possible to house Bridge here until then. He could look after my horse and make himself useful about the stables.’ I assured him it would be no trouble at all, there being plenty of room in the grooms’ quarters. Thanking me he said, ‘Would it be convenient for him to arrive today?’

  ‘By all means,’ I agreed easily.

  ‘I’m going sailing this afternoon and could call on him on my way. I really am most grateful, ma’am.’

  I left him to his book and went back indoors, more worried than I cared to admit. Richard refused to tell Julia or myself about his problems, yet he’d taken Mr. Hamerton into his confidence. A man he’d only known for a few days. If Mr. Hamerton was Mr. Brown, I was afraid Richard could become caught up with the Fat Badgers. He wasn’t easily influenced, but he was extremely vulnerable right now, and Richard had always had a reckless streak.

  That afternoon I was out in the garden when I saw a man walking towards the stables, and guessed from his attire that he was Mr. Hamerton’s new groom. I went to meet him and on reaching me he touched his forelock. ‘I’m Bridge, my lady. Mr. Hamerton said it was----’

  ‘Yes, it’s quite all right.’ He was about forty, smart and clean, with a ready smile, and I casually asked who his last employer had been.

  ‘Mr. Jenkins, my lady. Over at Newchurch. He lived at Hill House, down Field Lane.’

  ‘Mr. Jenkins,’ I mused thoughtfully. ‘I don’t think I know the gentleman.’

  ‘He died a few weeks ago, my lady. Very sad it was, him being so young and with a family too. He fell in the river and drowned. I’d only just started work there and Mrs. Jenkins couldn’t keep me on. There wasn’t enough for me to do.’

  I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. Newchurch was only about five miles from Newport. Not daring to hope, I repeated, ‘Mr. Jenkins drowned, you said.’

  ‘Yes, my lady.’

  When Mr. Hamerton told me Bridge’s previous employer had died, I’d assumed him to be a much older gentleman. But if he was young------- ‘Tell me, what horse did he ride?’