Letter from a Dead Man Page 5

  The best way to achieve that involved swallowing my pride for a time, and every feeling in me revolted, but it would be worthwhile in the end. And, with that thought on my mind, I finally fell asleep.

  I woke much refreshed in the morning, and although not quite my usual self, I was determined to advise Mr Arnold of what I had seen at Smith’s farm. My aunt and cousin were going shopping in Newport, and aware they would try to dissuade me from going out, I simply waited until they had left, when I informed the servants I meant to visit my old nurse in West Cowes.

  I took Mudd with me, and when I told him the truth about the attack, the colour drained from his weatherbeaten face. ‘Keep it to yourself, John. I don’t want the whole house worrying. But I must find out who those smugglers were. I’m certain they weren’t local men – the one who spoke didn’t have an Island accent.’ Besides, local smugglers knew I considered it my duty to obey the smuggling laws. Just as I saw that the extra money gained from smuggling made their lives, and that of their families, much more comfortable.

  ‘I could ask my father. He knows most things that go on.’

  ‘I would be grateful, John.’

  On arriving in West Cowes, Mudd stabled the horses, while I spent a pleasant hour reminiscing with my old nurse, arriving just in time to avoid a heavy shower. On leaving her cottage, Mudd and I were threading our way through the narrow streets towards the waterfront, meaning to take the ferry across to East Cowes, where the Customs House was situated, when I saw Mr Arnold approaching from the other direction. He bowed and having exchanged greetings, I explained I was on my way to see him.

  ‘Then I am glad I saved you a trip across the water, ma’am. There’s a nasty nip in the air today.’ A large wagon negotiating the narrow street, splashed mud in our direction, and he was instantly penitent. ‘Forgive me, ma’am, I am forgetting my manners. Mrs Arnold would scold me something fearful if she saw me keeping you in conversation in the road.’ And he insisted on escorting me back to the stables, so that I could tell him how he might be of service.

  Walking up the street, with Mudd following, I inquired first after Mrs Arnold’s health. ‘She’s very well, thank you, ma’am, though she’s rather anxious about her brother in New York. It’s six months since we heard from John Delafield.’

  ‘Perhaps a letter has gone astray.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I said, ma’am.’

  Turning into the wide alley that led to the stables, I told Mr Arnold about Smith’s pond and the sediment that suggested a sudden drop in the water level. ‘We’ve had far too much rain for that to happen naturally.’

  ‘I wish everyone was as observant, ma’am,’ he murmured, running a hand round his chin thoughtfully. ‘So he’s hiding the stuff in his pond is he.‘ I didn’t mention I had been attacked, aware he’d do his utmost to apprehend Smith in any case. ‘I’m most grateful to you, ma’am. Now we know where to look, we’ll soon have him under lock and key.’

  By the time we got back to Westfleet the clouds had disappeared, giving way to warm sunshine. My aunt and cousin were still out shopping, and I was sitting in the workroom thinking about what had happened when I visited Smith’s farm, when a picture of him opening one particularly heavy gate flashed into my mind. He’d struggled to heave it across the ground, an action that had flattened the surface of the mud somewhat. It had reminded me of something at the time, but I couldn’t recall what. Now, quite suddenly, it came to me. That was how the muddy track at the east gate had looked when I found Mr Saxborough’s body. Smoothed somewhat by the shutting of the gate.

  It was a minute or two, even then, before the true significance sank in. Before I realised what had been missing from that smoothed over mud. Hoof marks. If Mr Saxborough had jumped the gate, there should have been fresh hoof marks within that area. And there had not been. That could mean only one thing. The gate had been closed after his death.

  I put my head in my hands and groaned at my own stupidity. Father had taught me that things weren’t always what they seemed, yet when I found the gate closed, I’d assumed it had been shut when Mr Saxborough rode down the bridle path. For that was how it had looked. I’d accepted it despite being convinced he would never have jumped the east gate on that horse. How could I have been so blind?

  I asked myself who could have wanted Cuthbert Saxborough dead? He’d made many enemies in his life, yet I couldn’t think of one with the nerve, or the intelligence, to make his death look like an accident. I was still mulling it over when Mr Reevers called to see me.

  Inopportune though his visit was, remembering his kindness the previous evening, I told Jeffel to show him into the library. Mr Reevers, looking every inch the gentleman in his riding breeches, dark blue coat and well polished boots, bowed when I entered the room and inquired if I had recovered from my ordeal.

  ‘As you see,’ I responded lightly. ‘I am feeling much more the thing now.’

  ‘Enough to take a walk in the garden?’

  ‘By all means.’

  I took a parasol, the sun having become quite hot, and on strolling into the walled garden, he indicated an arbour, suggesting we rest there. We had talked of general subjects up to this point, but now he urged, ‘I should like to know what happened last night.’

  ‘Certainly,’ I said. And repeated what I had told everyone else.

  The parasol shaded my face, which I hoped might help the situation, but this astute and observant man merely said, ‘I understand you don’t want to worry your aunt, and that tale will do well enough for her. But it won’t do for me. I saw your face, and even in the darkness it was obvious to me you had suffered a severe fright—’

  ‘Being set upon by two villains would terrify anyone.’

  ‘True, but you are not the kind of female who is easily frightened. Nor one who screams and swoons for no reason.’

  ‘I did not swoon,’ I pointed out.

  ‘No, but you couldn’t stop shaking, could you.’ He spoke with kindly understanding, and waited expectantly.

  Watching a bee buzzing in and out the flowers of a tall foxglove, I said, ‘I’d rather not speak of it, if you don’t mind.’ Having made my wishes clear, I expected that to be the end of the matter, but Mr Reevers was not to be fobbed off so easily.

  ‘I’m afraid, ma’am,’ he said, in a perfectly amiable tone, ‘that I do mind.’

  ‘Well, really,’ I muttered, snapping my parasol shut in a manner that conveyed my disgust. ‘A gentleman,’ I said, emphasising the word, ‘would have taken the hint.’

  Far from rising to the bait, he remained entirely unruffled. ‘I shan’t repeat it to anyone, if that is what’s worrying you.’

  I turned my head to look at him, wondering how he’d guessed this was my main concern, for I didn’t want Smith alerted by some careless remark. ‘How can I be sure of that?’

  ‘I give you my word as a gentleman,’ he said, poker-faced. I couldn’t help but laugh, and he said, ‘Besides, I don’t want to leave the Island without -----’

  ‘You’re leaving?’ News that, for no reason I could think of, left me feeling quite downcast.

  ‘At daybreak tomorrow. Some urgent matters require my attention at home. I ought to have gone this morning.’ And he cajoled, ‘I wish you would tell me why those two ruffians were threatening you. I might be able to help.’

  I stiffened a little, being accustomed to solving my own difficulties. ‘I’m obliged to you, Mr Reevers, but I don’t anticipate any more problems.’

  He gazed at me meditatively, as if working out his next manoeuvre, making it clear he didn’t intend to give up, even now. And I realised, in surprise, that he liked getting to the bottom of things every bit as much as I did.

  A wry smile crossed his lips. ‘Very well ma’am, but if you should be found dead at the bottom of a cliff one day, it would help the local constable if he knew who to arrest.’ That made me laugh, despite the grave nature of his remark. It also made so much sense that I changed my mind and told him
the truth.

  A rose leaf fell on his sleeve and he brushed it off. ‘What do you mean to do about Smith? Turn him off his farm?’

  I shook my head, explaining I wanted Smith locked up. ‘I shall let him think his friends have frightened me away.’

  ‘You won’t find that easy to swallow.’

  I gave a grim laugh. ‘No, indeed I won’t. But it won’t be for long.’

  ‘I hope not.’ He got up to take his leave and when I held out my hand to him, he lifted it to his lips. ‘Keep away from smugglers, my dear. I rather fear those particular men mean business.’ Bowing, he turned and strode off, and I found myself wondering if he was in the habit of addressing all young women as ‘my dear.’

  I didn’t move at once, but sat in the arbour thinking about Mr Reevers, not having encountered anyone quite like him before. He was a clever man and had a sense of fun I liked. I suspected that he understood me very well, which was rather unnerving, for I could not say the same about him. There being rather more to him, I felt, than the face he showed to the world.

  Later, back in the workroom, I tried to fathom out how Mr Saxborough had died. If he’d been thrown from his horse when the gate was open, then something must have been held across the track - possibly a rope. But, convinced though I was that Mr Saxborough had been murdered, I said nothing to anyone else, for I saw no way of proving it, as yet.

  My uncle was always in my thoughts too, and I prayed Giles would soon hear from his friends in France. The waiting was hardest on my aunt, of course, and upon the servants who attended her. When, one morning, I found a housemaid in tears after my aunt had threatened to have her dismissed for humming while she worked, I decided it was time I took matters in hand.

  Having reassured the housemaid, I suggested to my aunt that if she cared to refurbish the large south-facing bedchamber my father had used, it would be more comfortable than her north-facing room. She brightened visibly, but aware I found it difficult to change anything that had belonged to my father, she asked uncertainly, ‘Are you quite sure, Drusilla?’

  ‘Of course. It’s a waste to leave it unoccupied.’ We went to look at the room and watching her growing delight as ideas sprang into her head, I wished I’d suggested it earlier.

  She proposed, ‘Perhaps some bright yellow curtains and—’

  I interrupted with a smile, ‘Do whatever you want, Aunt.’ Her taste in matters of fashion and furnishings was impeccable. It wouldn’t stop her worrying, of course, but it would give her something else to think about. And, hopefully, the servants would be able to go about their duties without fear of being dragged into a mouse hunt, or being shouted at for humming.

  CHAPTER SIX

  In the midst of our difficulties, my friend, Julia Tanfield, held a party for her son, Edward, on his second birthday, combining it with young Tom’s fourteenth which fell the following day. On the morning of the party, my aunt and cousin went to Ledstone to discuss wedding arrangements. And later Lucie and Giles were to escort Tom to Breighton House.

  I wore a mauve riding dress and a wide-brimmed matching hat for the occasion, slipping two small birthday presents into the deep pockets of my habit. I had Orlando saddled, and set off in good time, my spirits lifted by the warmth of the sun. Leaving the Manor by the main entrance, I kept Orlando to a sedate trot as we approached the village of Westfleet, soon coming to the row of neat cottages built by my father for the estate workers. Windows and doors had been flung open to let in the sunshine, and shrieks of childish laughter emanated from the back gardens.

  A little further on stood a pretty thatched inn, the ‘Five Bells.’ Barlow, the innkeeper, lounged in his doorway, a clay pipe in his mouth as usual, and as I stopped to exchange a few words with him, a duck followed by a dozen ducklings in single file, suddenly shot across the road in front of me, heading for the village pond. A sight that always made me smile.

  Riding past the village green, two elderly men sitting outside the thatched cottages touched their forelocks, and I called out a greeting. The road then rose steeply up to the Norman church on the hill, with the parsonage some fifty yards beyond that, half way round a sharp bend. Enabling the parson and his wife to see everyone coming up the hill from the village, and giving them the opportunity to waylay those who didn’t move past quickly enough. I swept up the hill, past the parsonage, and had almost reached the side road that led up the long steep incline to Breighton House, when the parson rode round the corner from the opposite direction. I groaned inwardly, aware that if I’d left home one minute earlier I’d have missed him altogether.

  Good manners required me to stop and exchange the usual pleasantries, which led to my being forced to listen to a rambling account of how he had once again fallen victim to his old trouble. ‘Only yesterday a nasty-looking boil broke out on my neck. Still, I mustn’t complain.’ A statement he instantly contradicted, and at such length, that the second he drew breath, I quickly excused myself on account of not wanting to be late.

  He frowned and tutted. ‘I must say ma’am, I consider it most inappropriate of Mrs Tanfield to include Tom in this merry making when he’s in mourning for his grandfather.’

  ‘We are hardly merry making, Mr Upton. It’s merely an informal gathering. Tom is still a child and it seems a little harsh to deny him any recognition of his birthday.’

  The lines of displeasure deepened on his face. ‘His father is in London I believe ----’

  ‘On estate matters, yes. Tom has permission to spend his birthday at Breighton House.’ Not that it was any of his business, I thought.

  ‘I dread to think what Mrs Saxborough would say if she knew of it.’

  Irritated by his pompous attitude, I informed him a trifle abruptly, ‘She not only knows of it, but has given her approval. She, at least, didn’t want to spoil the day for him.’

  ‘Well, I cannot approve ma’am,’ he declared in a manner that showed he plainly believed himself to be above reproach on such matters. ‘In fact I---–’

  Gathering the reins together, I cut him short. ‘If Mrs Saxborough and his own father see no objection, I think it quite acceptable to go ahead. Now you really must excuse me.’ And I rode off up the hill, muttering under my breath, ‘Insufferable little man.’

  I was still seething when I reached Breighton House, and barely noticed the magnificent views of the sea and surrounding countryside that I usually delighted in here. The house, square in shape, was constructed of Island stone, and had an inner courtyard, and a wide archway at the back leading to the stables. Built in the early part of the century by John Tanfield, Edward’s great grandfather, a fine carriage drive swept visitors up to the front of the house. The welcome I received soon put me back into a sunny mood. Wade, the butler, showed me into the drawing room, where Julia greeted me, begging me to excuse her while she had a word with Wade.

  In the four years since Richard Tanfield brought Julia back to Breighton House as his bride, we had become the greatest of friends. A redhead, with pale green eyes, Julia’s face in repose was no more than ordinary; it was when she laughed, or talked animatedly, that she instantly became attractive. She was about five foot seven inches, with a well-proportioned figure, always beautifully dressed, having a flair for knowing exactly what would suit her best, and nimble fingers with which to copy the latest fashions for a fraction of the price, without anyone being the wiser. Something she did for enjoyment rather than necessity.

  Richard, the younger of two sons, had embraced a life at sea, and at eighteen had come home to find his unmarried, dissolute elder brother was dead. Richard’s inheritance, apart from the house, was no more than respectable, and he had remained in the Navy. A captain now, he had been on half-pay for much of his marriage, until the war began in February, when he had been given a ship. Feeling a sharp tug at my skirts, I looked down to find Edward beaming up at me. He held out his arms, shrieking with delight, ‘Il-la.’ This being his attempt at my name.

  Scooping him up I gave him a big hug. �
��Aunt to you, young man,’ I said, laughing. ‘Show a proper respect.’ Sitting him on my lap, I saw a small, but growing stain on his shirt. ‘What have you got there?’ I asked suspiciously. Giggling, he removed a squashed beetle from his pocket.

  Julia, watching him from the corner of her eye, broke off from speaking to Wade and groaned. ‘Edward, couldn’t you have kept clean just for one day?’ With a long-suffering sigh she had him taken off to have his clothes changed, just as Lucie and Giles arrived with Tom.

  Remembering his manners, Tom thanked Julia for inviting him to celebrate his birthday at her house. Edward’s presence made for a great deal of informality, and the dishes set before us included all his favourite jellies, biscuits and little cakes, which he ate with great relish. I was amused to see Tom tuck into them too, finishing his repast with a gargantuan wedge of apple pie. Everyone had gifts for the boys. I gave Edward a small boat, and for Tom I’d settled on a penknife he had often admired. It had belonged to my father, and had a delicate ivory handle shaped like a serpent. I thought father would approve, as he’d always been fond of the boy. Tom sat fingering the penknife for some time, knowing what it meant to me.

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ he mumbled, looking up. ‘I’ll take good care of it Drusilla, I promise.’ Then, in his good natured way, he took Edward off to sail the new boat on the small pond in the garden, while we all sat on the terrace in the sunshine.

  Giles took the opportunity to announce he and Lucie were to be married on the twenty-seventh of October. ‘We settled it this morning,’ he said, squeezing Lucie’s hand affectionately. ‘And Mama and I move to Norton House in August.’ He and Lucie talked blissfully of what the future held for them, and I prayed Giles would not let his love for Ledstone mar their happiness. If Thomas shirked his obligations on the estate, Giles would have to learn to live with the frustration. For there really was no alternative. Not for him. Glancing at Lucie, I noticed a distinct sadness in her eyes. Puzzled, I wondered what it meant.