The Fat Badger Society (Drusilla Davanish Mysteries Book 2) Read online

  After breakfast the next morning, when he and I were both with Richard, Mr Hamerton told me about his sister. ‘She managed to smuggle a letter out to me some weeks ago. She said her husband had become a monster like Robespierre, and she could not bear to think of those dreadful atrocities he’s associated with. She’s desperate to leave him and return to England.’

  Doubtfully, I asked, ‘Is that possible?’

  ‘I trust so. Every August she visits her husband’s cousin, a widow, who lives in Normandy. That’s her one chance to escape. She was terrified her husband would decide to accompany her. Fortunately, Robespierre’s plans for August won’t allow him to join her. So I shall cross the channel then and bring her back to my new house at Dittistone,’ he said, as if rescuing her from France in the middle of a war was the easiest thing in the world.”She always wanted to live on this lovely Island,’ he added. At last I understood why he’d come to the Island, bought a yacht and learnt to sail.

  Richard insisted, ‘We’ll go together.’

  ‘No. You have to recover from your bullet wound.’

  ‘I’ll be fine by August.’

  Still Mr. Hamerton shook his head. ‘If anything happened to you I would never forgive myself. You have too much to lose. No, I have made up my mind. I am going alone.’

  Hearing a carriage stop outside I looked out the window, and saw the King stepping down, accompanied by Lord Howe and Mr. Reevers. When I told Richard he stared at me, his eyes as round as saucers. ‘The King is coming to see me? But, why?’

  I laughed. ‘Think about it, Richard. If you hadn’t saved my life, I could not have saved his. Now let anyone call you a coward.’

  He gave a great shout of laughter. ‘Drusilla, you are a woman in a million. But it was sheer chance that I came back past that alley, you know. Frankly I thought Mr. East had gone mad.’ He stopped as the door opened and the butler announced the King and Lord Howe. I did wonder why Mr. Reevers hadn’t come in with them, but did not dwell on it. Mr. Hamerton and I left Richard to enjoy his moment of glory, and as we walked back to the drawing room I asked him how he’d managed to let his sister know what he intended to do.

  ‘I wrote a letter and an Island smuggler said he knew someone who would take it to her in Paris,’ he said. ‘Cost me a packet, but I don’t mind. He brought her reply too.’ And added, ‘He was an odd fellow. Insisted on meeting me at the church at one in the morning. And after I’d read her letter, he made me destroy it.’

  ‘Did he say why?’

  ‘He said he could be hanged for communicating with the enemy, and the letter was evidence.’

  I didn’t tell him the real reason. That the letter was evidence of his innocence, for it would have told me he wasn’t Mr. Brown. Whereas, the fact that he’d actually met Mr. Silver, and in the middle of the night, seemed to be conclusive proof of his guilt. Just as Mr. East wanted.

  Which made me wonder about the aristocrat who’d knocked down and killed Mrs. Hamerton. A week later he was found murdered, and as no-one had ever been arrested, it enabled Mr. East to cast suspicion on Mr. Hamerton, by presenting the facts in a manner that suggested he had become a French spy because an aristocrat had caused his wife’s death.

  As we reached the bottom of the stairs, the butler informed me Mr. Reevers was waiting for me in the library. ‘In that case,’ Mr. Hamerton said, ‘I shall go out to take the air, and enjoy the celebrations.’

  I stood for some seconds, watching him go, dreading this meeting with Mr. Reevers. For, this time I would have to tell him why I had been keeping him at arm’s length. And I wished with all my heart that this ordeal was already over.

  When I opened the library door, he took one look at my face and came striding across the room, his hands outstretched towards mine. I shook my head at him and grasped the back of a chair, stopping him in his tracks.

  ‘Oh, my dearest girl,’ he murmured softly, a distinct catch in his voice.

  ‘Do I look that bad?’ I asked shakily.

  ‘You look all in.’

  ‘You have such a way with words, Mr. Reevers,’ I said with a watery smile. ‘I’m afraid I had trouble sleeping last night.’

  He muttered tersely, ‘I should never have embroiled you in all this.’

  ‘Nonsense. I wanted to do it,’ I insisted. ‘And I don’t regret it, not one bit.’ I indicated the chair by the empty fireplace. ‘Do sit down,’ I said. I spoke as if he was a stranger, but I couldn’t help myself. This was not going to be easy, and I was determined not to shed a single tear in front of him. I sat in the chair on the other side of the fireplace, putting a sensible distance between us. Delaying the evil moment, I asked if anyone else was aware of the attempt on the King’s life.

  ‘No, thankfully. The King won’t speak of it obviously, nor will Lord Chatham and Mr. Dundas. We’re all of the opinion that, with so much unrest in the country, the suspension of Habeas Corpus, the arrests of reformers, and the fear of a revolution here, it would be better if it didn’t get out.’

  ‘One of those villains might say something in court.’

  ‘Not now they won’t.’

  I looked at him, puzzled. ‘Why not?’

  He gave a slight shrug. ‘Because they’re dead.’

  ‘Dead?’ I gasped. ‘What all of them?’

  He nodded. ‘Last night we were taking them to London, and when we stopped to change horses they made a run for it. We had no choice but to shoot.’ So that was why he hadn’t called. I doubted it had been quite as simple as he made out, but frankly I didn’t care. I was glad they were all dead.

  I saw him take a deep breath, and knowing what was coming next, I babbled, ‘What about Mr. East. He will have to be buried.’

  ‘That is in hand. Everything will be done properly. It’s not the first time we’ve organised a quiet burial.’

  ‘But doesn’t he have a family?’

  ‘No-one close. His parents are dead and he had no siblings.’

  ‘What about his friends?’

  ‘We’ll let it be known he’s gone back to France, and after a suitable time, announce he was killed in the line of duty.’

  ‘Then it’s all settled.’ I rose to my feet, meaning to ring for the butler to see Mr. Reevers out, but he was there before me. ‘Not quite everything. Sit down, Drusilla. You know why I came here this morning. And I have waited long enough, don’t you think?’

  It was useless to protest; and in any case, now the Fat Badgers were no more, it was better to get it over with. ‘Very well,’ I said, returning to my chair. ‘What do you wish to say?’

  ‘Good God, Drusilla,’ he spluttered in disbelief, as he too sat down again. ‘You know what I want to say. In heaven’s name tell me why you have been giving me the cold shoulder.’

  There was only one way to answer him; I told him the truth, repeating what my godmother had said in her letter. When he put his head in his hands and groaned, I whispered shakily, ‘So, it’s true.’

  ‘I won’t lie to you,’ he said in a constrained voice. ‘Yes, it is true.’

  I felt as if he’d struck me. I jumped up and walked over to the window, keeping my back to him so that he couldn’t see my face. And I realised that, all along, I had half hoped it was one of those stories that became exaggerated with the telling. Well, now I knew it wasn’t. He’d admitted he was a fortune hunter.

  I had been taken in as easily as a girl just out of the schoolroom. Choking back the tears, I squared my shoulders and calmly returned to my seat to face him, determined not to let him see what I really felt for him. But the tenderness in his eyes almost undid me, and the words I’d planned to say stuck in my throat. In the end he spoke first.

  ‘Try to understand, Drusilla. I was twenty-nine and had never met anyone I wanted to marry, and I was beginning to think I never would. Sophie and I got on extremely well. I liked her enormously. I still do. For her that liking turned to love, for me it did not. But she’s an intelligent, beautiful woman, and I thought I could make
her happy.’

  ‘And it solved your financial problems,’ I burst out bitterly.

  ‘Yes. It’s not an uncommon arrangement.’

  ‘So you made her an offer, and she accepted.’ He inclined his head with obvious reluctance. ‘Did you have no compunction?’

  ‘Drusilla, she wanted to marry me.’

  ‘No doubt she believed you returned her affection.’

  He bit his lip, and agreed that she had. ‘That I do regret.’

  ‘So what went wrong?’ Catching a glimpse of myself in the looking glass on the wall, I was shocked to see how white and strained my face was.

  ‘If you will allow me to explain?’ I shrugged with as much indifference as I could muster, and he carried on,

  ‘In the beginning her whole family welcomed me into their midst. I liked and admired her father, adored her mother. My circumstances did not worry them. But when I asked Sophie’s father for her hand in marriage, he saw what Sophie had not, and asked me if I really loved her. And I could not bring myself to lie.’

  He stopped briefly, as if remembering that moment. ‘Her father reminded me he’d made it plain from the outset that he wanted his daughter to have the kind of loving marriage he and his wife enjoyed. He’d seen too much unhappiness in arranged marriages to be willing to accept second best for his beloved daughter. Furthermore, he said, he was bitterly disappointed in me, for he had not thought me a fortune hunter. I hadn’t thought that of myself either, merely that this might be the perfect compromise for me, and that I would probably come to love Sophie in time. But I hadn’t considered the marriage from Sophie’s point of view, and I should have done. She deserved to marry a man who truly adored her. ‘

  ‘So you could lie to the woman you meant to marry, but not to her father.’

  He flinched at the bitterness in my voice. ‘It would seem so. I am not proud of it, Drusilla. Her father said I should have been honest with her, and he was right. Then, if she still wished to go ahead, there might not have been any objection. He asked me if I would have proposed marriage if she had not been an heiress, and I had to admit I would not have. I was asked to leave at once.’

  He looked at me, waiting for me to speak, but I could only think of how he must have made himself agreeable to her, as he had to me. Teasing, occasionally flattering her, making her believe that he loved her, and that his life would have no purpose without her. And having failed with Sophie, he’d hoped to succeed with me. I glanced up at him and saw he was watching me intently. Still he said nothing and eventually I burst out, ‘Aren’t you going to tell me it’s not the same with me?’

  ‘No,’ he said softly. ‘You wouldn’t believe me.’

  ‘How very true.’

  ‘I’m not a saint, Drusilla.’ I brushed that aside with a gesture of indifference. ‘Nor would you be happy with such a man.’

  I looked up at that, conscious it was all too true. ‘You should have told me about Sophie.’

  He lifted his shoulders in helpless regret. ‘Perhaps. But I knew what you would think. Still, it is of no importance now. I have been ordered back to London, and from there to France. And a government agent in France, if betrayed, is as easily guillotined as an aristocrat or a simple peasant. While this war lasts I refuse to inflict that kind of anxiety on my ---- on any woman.’ And he immediately rose to his feet. ‘I must go. I have a number of things to see to before----’

  ‘When do you leave?’ I heard myself ask.

  ‘In an hour or two.’

  ‘So soon?’ The words were out before I could stop them.

  ‘We must find this double agent Toby spoke of. The one who turned him into a French spy. Tell me, what did he actually say about this man? Did he describe him in any way?’

  I thought for a moment. ‘He didn’t mention the man’s appearance. Just that he was a Frenchman who had come over to our side, having supposedly become disillusioned with the revolution. Whereas, in fact, Robespierre had charged him with the task of infiltrating the corresponding societies.’

  ‘No matter. I’ll seek him out.’ He took my hand in a formal gesture of parting, but held it much longer than was seemly. Somewhat hesitantly, he went on, ‘It would be better to say nothing now, I know, but I might not return, and for that reason I must, and will, speak. Whatever you think of me at this moment, I want you to know you are the only woman I have ever truly loved. I beg you to believe me, my dearest girl, for it is the truth.’

  I felt tears welling and cursed them, for they made it impossible for me to answer. Emotions, I thought, are the very devil.

  Lifting my hand to his lips he slowly and ardently kissed the tips of my fingers, one by one, before whispering huskily, ‘Goodbye, Drusilla.’ Then he turned and strode out of the room without a backward glance, leaving me breathless and shaken by the intensity of my own feelings. From the window I watched him walk out into the street and down the road. He did not look back and I did not move until long after he had disappeared from sight.

  If he had lied about Sophie, made excuses, or pleaded with me, I would have instantly cast him out of my life. But he had done none of those things. Instead, by quietly announcing he refused to inflict on any woman the kind of anxiety other agents’ wives endured, he had removed the need for me to make a decision. As if, by doing so, it would extinguish all my fears for his safety. I had not thought him so foolish.

  As for my own future, I had been certain, after Marguerite’s letter, that it could not include Radleigh Reevers. Yet, when he told me what had happened between him and Sophie, and of his remorse at failing to consider her feelings as he ought to have done, I longed to believe him. Longed to ignore the tiny nagging doubts that persisted at the back of my mind.

  A sensible woman, I told myself, would have nothing more to do with Mr. Reevers. And I’d always believed myself to be eminently sensible. But feelings had nothing to do with sense, and the truth was, I could not bear to think I would never see him again.

  Yet I had no idea what I would do if we did meet again. In fact, right now, I was only certain of two things; that he would return to France, and I would go home to Westfleet. Back to the Island and the people I loved. A thought that lifted my spirits and brought the faintest of smiles to my lips.

  Perhaps there I would see things more clearly. For, whatever the future brought, that was where I wanted to be.

  THE END

  HISTORICAL NOTE

  “The Fat Badger Society” is, of course, a work of fiction. It is, however, based on fact. Corresponding Societies sprang up in many cities in Britain in the early 1790s, electoral reform being one of their aims. They corresponded with each other by letter and, although most were peaceful reformers, a few did correspond with revolutionary France.

  William Pitt appointed a Secret Committee to look into their affairs and their report suggested some societies were preparing for revolution. This led to the suspension of Habeas Corpus in May 1794, when many leading reformers were arrested. But, after Hardy, Horne Tooke and Thelwall were acquitted in October of that year, charges against the others were scrapped. The suspension was lifted in June 1795. Corresponding Societies were banned in 1799.

  In 1780, under 3% of the adult male population had the vote. Reform acts of 1832, 1867 and 1884 slowly improved on that figure, but it wasn’t until 1918 that all men over 21 were able to vote. In 1918, some women over 30 got the vote, but the rest had to wait until 1928.

  George 111 reigned for 59 years and several attempts were made on his life.

  In late June 1794, the King, Queen and six Princesses went to Portsmouth to attend the celebrations for Admiral Howe’s great victory, known as “The Glorious First of June.” The King did present Howe with a jewelled sword, and the following day he held a levee at Government House where the heroes of the battle were suitably honoured.

  Other books by Dawn Harris

  “Letter From A Dead Man”

  (A Drusilla Davanish Mystery)

  Short Stories
/>   Dinosaur Island, a collection of historical,

  mystery and romantic short stories

  Reviews for “Letter From A Dead Man.”

  “Letter From a Dead man has a similar wit to Pride and Prejudice, and Harris holds up a mirror to society in the sort of way that Austen did.”

  Margot Kinberg’s “In the Spotlight.”.

  “A delightful murder mystery in an 18th century setting.” Historical Novel Society.

  Website:- www.dawnharris.co.uk