Hell and High Water

by Tanya Landman

  They did as they were bid, Letty and Caleb walking behind Mr Brimming up the stairs and into a large room. Mr Johnson and Mr Bowers were close behind, along with a clerk. The door was shut, puppets and mangled theatre set down upon the polished floor. It took a moment for Caleb’s eyes to adjust from the brightness of the street to the gloom within. When they did his heart almost stopped.

  Standing in one corner was William Benson. Sitting in a chair by the fire was Sir Robert Fairbrother.

  12.

  “I do believe these are the vagrants who assaulted my brother,” were Sir Robert’s first words. “The Bishop of Torcester lies bleeding. Will you not arrest them at once?”

  “In time, in time,” replied Mr Brimming blandly. “I have enquiries of my own to attend to first.” To Caleb and Letty he said, “Sir Robert is here on business.” Caleb then heard him whisper an aside to the clerk who had accompanied them up the stairs, “Send for the constables, would you?” To the room in general he said, “Sir Robert is here to make a second claim for a ship. The Lady Jane, I believe. He has indeed been most unfortunate to lose two vessels in such rapid succession. Let us hope his other ventures fare better.”

  “I pray so daily,” Sir Robert replied smoothly.

  “These people say they have information regarding the Linnet,” Mr Brimming told him.

  “The Lady Jane too,” Caleb said. “We saw her go down.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Come now, this is absurd!” Sir Robert scoffed. “It is impossible either of them saw what happened to the Lady Jane! She was lost far out at sea.”

  In a steady voice Caleb declared, “We were on board.”

  There was a stunned silence.

  Sir Robert broke it. “On board? How could that be possible, even if they were stowaways? What? All hands lost and yet these two survived?” His tone was scathing. “It is not credible! Mr Brimming, this black-skinned wretch is troubled in his mind. He should by rights be confined to an asylum. His father was a convicted felon, transported to the colonies. God alone knows who or what his mother was. There is bad blood in his veins. Since he arrived at his aunt’s he has been full of the most fantastical imaginings. Pay him no heed.”

  “My wits are perfectly intact, sir.” Caleb looked directly at the magistrate. “Mr Brimming, will you hear us out? Then you may judge who is telling the truth here.”

  “You would listen to a pair of vagabonds?” Sir Robert was behaving as though this was a mild irritation, something faintly comic that he would later regale his friends with over a fine dinner. His calm contempt, his overweening confidence, unnerved the businessmen. Mr Brimming exchanged an uncertain glance with Mr Johnson and Mr Bowers. Caleb could see that none of them wished to offend a man of Sir Robert’s standing.

  He thought at any moment they would be bundled out of the coffee house and so he said, “The Linnet was sunk – scuttled deliberately. As for the Lady Jane – she was struck by lightning.”

  “Lightning?” Mr Brimming echoed. “I believe that would not normally down a vessel.”

  “She was carrying gunpowder.”

  “Gunpowder?” Mr Johnson’s eyebrows shot towards the ceiling. “That was not listed as part of the cargo…”

  “Because it was not on board!” Sir Robert sighed wearily. “This is all nonsense.” Turning to Benson, he commanded, “Take them. Really, gentlemen, they must go to the city gaol without delay.”

  Obediently, Benson took a step towards them but Letty now found her voice. “He’s stealing from you. Can’t you see it? He’s taken your money and gone laughing all the way back to Norton Manor. Are you going to let him get away with it?”

  Benson laid a hand upon Caleb’s arm but Mr Brimming said, “Leave him be. I do apologize, Sir Robert, but I wish to hear what these young people have to say.”

  “It is fantastical. Absurd!”

  “That’s as may be. Let us, the underwriters, judge whether their tale is fact or fiction before they are removed.”

  He sat himself down at the table and the two other gentlemen did the same. “What is it you have to tell us?”

  The essentials of the plot were laid before them. Caleb spoke of Pa’s arrest, of his sentence and the bishop’s intervention, of how cargo and convicts had been landed on the island, the former being sold on from there, the latter being set to work. Letty described how a harbour wall was to be constructed to enable a smuggling operation. “You can see where they started the work,” she said earnestly. “Go take a look at the island.”

  “Smuggling?” said Sir Robert. “They’ll be accusing me of piracy next!” He laughed as though genuinely amused by the notion. “Will you have me hanged? Here, I offer you my wrists. Go on, clap me in irons.”

  They did not do so. Smiling reassuringly at Sir Robert, Mr Brimming told Caleb to continue, but his tone had grown cold.

  Right was on their side but with Sir Robert’s eyes on them Letty and Caleb became increasingly awkward and tongue-tied. Put baldly, fact after fact, their story did indeed sound fanciful. Brave, bold Letty stumbled over words, as did Caleb. And the more they stumbled, the more flustered each of them became, the less convincing they were. They tried to sound sincere but every sentence, every phrase seemed to ring false. The underwriters sat in silence, listening, but Caleb was aware that word by halting word their incredulity was growing.

  When he explained how he had found Pa’s body, how he and Letty had opened the grave and discovered that the corpse’s finger had been cut off the underwriters pressed handkerchiefs to their mouths as if trying to stem a rising tide of nausea. Yet still Caleb pressed on, telling of his uncle’s return and what had followed after that. Of entering the manor on gala day and what he had discovered in the desk drawer. Of his abduction on the Lady Jane and Letty’s rescue; the convicts’ escape. He spoke, too, of the bishop’s involvement and what had occurred at the palace that very morning.

  In desperation Letty at last pulled the silken package from her pocket and laid it on the table.

  “This is Sir Robert’s handkerchief,” Caleb said, pushing it towards Mr Brimming. “See the initials there? I found it in the drawer of his desk. And look inside, gentlemen.” Unwrapping it, he added, “See here? This is Pa’s finger, cut from his dead body so he wouldn’t be identified. If you look at the ring you’ll see why. It was his father’s. Those are his initials – this is my grandfather’s seal.”

  The underwriters were reluctant to look closely.

  Sir Robert – who had done nothing but peer down his nose for the duration of Caleb and Letty’s tale – now burst into howls of derisive laughter. He raised his hands and applauded loudly, as though Caleb had just completed the most extraordinary theatrical performance.

  “Bravo! I congratulate you. This has indeed been most entertaining.” He turned to the round-bellied underwriter. “And now I tire of this farce. Will you send them both to gaol? I believe it can accommodate yet more villains.”

  The gentlemen shuffled uncomfortably in their seats but did not give the order. Caleb had not convinced them his tale was true, but their money was involved. The fear that they had been tricked still stayed their hands.

  “They did not want my father identified. The proof is there,” Caleb said, pointing at Pa’s ring.

  “Proof?” Once more Sir Robert scoffed. “A ring on a withered finger with nothing to say who it came from or how it was got. How do you know he did not cut it from its owner himself?”

  “But the handkerchief is yours!”

  “Oh, that I do not deny. This lad is a thief. He entered my house without permission – which he freely admits – and stole my handkerchief. But I assure you, gentlemen, he did not take the ring from there.” Sir Robert suddenly leaned forward and jabbed Caleb with his forefinger. “You will be hanged for stealing, boy. And I will make sure the sentence is not commuted to transportation.”

  There was a moment’s silence.

  “The ring is very distinctive,” Mr Brimming ven
tured. “Could we not—?”

  Sir Robert interrupted him noisily, his show of amusement gone. He was angry now but no less withering. “Indeed. You think a lad like this would have such a thing in his possession by any honest means? This whole tale is mere fancy! It is a fable, I tell you, a fiction constructed from nothing. Gentlemen, you have had the affidavit of eleven men, sworn before the magistrate, which state that the Linnet sank with all her cargo in a storm in the middle of the ocean.”

  “She was unseaworthy!” Letty protested. “She should never have sailed.”

  Sir Robert was on his feet, seizing Letty’s arm. “Here we have a girl who ran away from home with the bastard son of a blackamoor whore. She is a slattern. Can you take anything she says as truth? Regard this pair carefully. Would you really take their word against mine?”

  In that instant Caleb knew that they were beaten. Hell and damnation! What had he led Letty into?

  “You are right, Sir Robert,” Mr Brimming conceded. He tapped his fingers delicately against the table. “Indeed, we cannot give credence to the word of vagabonds.”

  “Then take them,” Sir Robert commanded. He turned to Caleb. “I shall see you and your pretty whore dance the hangman’s jig.”

  Blind terror squeezed Caleb’s chest. He gasped for breath. He was sinking, drowning, desperate for something, anything to save him. Come on, Caleb! You have a brain in that head. Use it! He looked to Mr Brimming. The man had been about to say something. What? Sir Robert had interrupted him. Why? The magistrate had mentioned the ring’s distinctiveness. He’d asked – “Could we not?” Could we not what? What had he meant to say? Could we not find out to whom it belonged?

  Yes! That was it! The ring was the answer! Caleb said, “You will not give credence to us. Would you listen to an earl’s daughter?”

  “An earl’s daughter?” Mr Brimming looked to Mr Johnson and Mr Bowers. They all nodded. “To whom do you refer?”

  “My aunt – Anne Chappell, as was. Her father was the Earl of Gravesham.”

  Sir Robert frowned, looking momentarily perplexed. “Anne Chappell, as was?” Then he threw back his head and laughed. “You mean Anne Avery? She was my wife’s maid! She is nobody. A servant!”

  Caleb persisted. “Her father lost his fortune, sirs, it is true, but she was born a lady. Lady Anne Chappell, the Earl of Gravesham’s daughter. She will recognize the ring. Will her word not carry weight?”

  “She knows what happened to the Linnet?”

  “She does not. She was married to one of the crew but I’m sure her husband didn’t speak of it. And neither Letty nor I told her anything.”

  “Why not?”

  “She is a lady, sir, of a delicate constitution. We wished to protect her.”

  Mr Brimming was silent for a while. The thump of feet on the staircase announced the coming of the constables. He sighed and, throwing an apologetic look at Caleb and Letty, said, “Take these two to the gaol.”

  In a sudden panic, Letty threw her arms about Caleb’s chest. Triumph lit Sir Robert’s face and Caleb longed to pound the expression off it with his fists but to his surprise Mr Brimming’s next words did the task for him.

  “Take this gentleman’s servant too.”

  Caleb and Letty looked at each other, startled. Benson arrested? There was a chink of hope here. Mr Brimming could not, without firm and certain proof, detain a man of Sir Robert’s standing, but taking his servant was surely a form of security to ensure the master did not leave the city?

  Sir Robert was rendered speechless. He reddened, opened his mouth, but could produce no words.

  Mr Brimming continued, “I apologize most sincerely, Sir Robert, but my colleagues and I will have the truth of this. Your man must be detained, and I would ask most humbly that you remain in Torcester while we send for the lady.”

  “She! You think to have the truth from a maid? Anne Avery would say anything to save their skins!”

  “Never fear, I will make sure she is given no information relating to this matter. She will know only that a Torcester magistrate wishes to see her on a matter of grave importance.”

  “She won’t get here safe!” Letty was in tears. “Sir Robert will see her dead before she is allowed to speak! He already threatened her daughter. A little girl, not yet two!”

  Mr Brimming looked from Caleb and Letty to Sir Robert and Benson. “Let me say this. If Anne Avery and her child do not arrive in Torcester alive and well we will assume that these two are telling the truth, vagabonds or not, and act accordingly.” To the room in general he said, “Let us discover if she knows the ring when she sees it. If she is indeed who this lad says there will be others who can confirm her identity. We will make all the necessary enquiries. Meantime,” he said to Caleb and Letty, “you two must abide in the city gaol.” Turning to Sir Robert, he said, “Will you be staying with your brother? Very well. We will send word to the bishop’s palace the moment we have news.”

  13.

  The week that followed was the stuff of nightmares.

  The ginger-haired youth lay dead and the bishop had been assaulted. Even if their tale concerning the Linnet could be proved true, such things must weigh heavily against them.

  Sir Robert had bought his manservant privileges from the gaoler – good food, a private room – so they did not have to face Benson. But they were incarcerated with thirty others in the barn-like cell where Pa had been imprisoned. Caleb did not grieve for himself, but that he should have brought Letty so low! To see her – not in her rowboat, not tugging its oars, chasing the tide – but sleeping on soiled straw, pissing in the corner, eating stale bread crawling with weevils… To have her next to him but so quiet she barely spoke, to see her so pale, so anxious was a horror he could barely endure. And the fear that he would have to stand beside her and see her swing! The days of waiting seemed to stretch into eternity.

  * * *

  While they waited, Anne – sick with grieving for her dead husband and brother, riddled with fear for Caleb and Letty – was travelling to Torcester in the coach of Mr Brimming.

  The messenger who’d knocked on her door had not told her anything and she did not ask, so befuddled was she with pain and anxiety. She simply did as she was requested, wrapping Dorcas tightly in a shawl, leaving the house empty-handed save for the few coins she had in her possession.

  She passed the journey in a numbed daze and was scarcely aware of how long it took, of how many stops they made to change the horses, to rest, to eat, to sleep. When at last the coach stopped outside the coffee house and she was told to go inside, she did so, too weary and sad to have even an ounce of curiosity about what was happening.

  Mr Brimming pressed a cup of coffee into her hands and her fingers closed around it, but she did not drink. He talked, but she heard not a word. Only when he laid the bundle upon the table and unfolded the silk handkerchief to reveal what lay within did she give a sharp intake of breath and look around with confusion.

  “I am heartily sorry to show you something so unpleasant, but this is a matter of utmost importance. The ring,” he said gently, “do you know it?”

  Anne stared into Mr Brimming’s face. How was she to answer?

  Long, long ago, when she had given her baby into her brother’s keeping, Joseph had told her to say nothing of what had happened. He had urged her to deny that she had a brother. To say to one and all that she was plain Anne Chappell, a lady’s maid, not the daughter of the Earl of Gravesham. Conceal the past, he had said, so she might have a future.

  She opened her mouth to say she had no knowledge of the ring.

  But her lips would not frame another lie. The words would not come out. For what had so many untruths brought her these many years? She had given away her own child! And now he was gone once more and she knew not where. Letty had vanished. Her husband had been washed up dead. She’d had to bury him. But he at least had a grave. Her brother, poor Joseph, lay chained at the bottom of the ocean in the Linnet’s broken belly. Save fo
r Dorcas, everyone she cared for was gone. What future now was there for her and her child? Alone, she could not pay the rent. There was only the workhouse. Death on the streets would be preferable. What could she possibly lose by telling the truth?

  “It was my father’s ring.” She trembled as though seized with a violent chill, but continued, “My brother had it on his death.”

  “And who was your father?”

  “The Earl of Gravesham.”

  The men in the room looked at each other. Even in her numbed state Anne could feel their excitement. One muttered into the ear of a clerk – something concerning the bishop’s palace – and he at once left the room. When the door was shut, Mr Brimming asked, “Lady Anne, are there others who could verify this was his?”

  “It was his seal. Anyone he ever corresponded with would recognize it. His friends, his lawyers, his creditors.”

  “We will make enquiries.”

  “How came you by it?” Anne fought to control her agitation. “Joseph is dead. He drowned at sea. As did my poor husband!”

  “Is it possible your brother sold the ring? Or that it was stolen from him?”

  “No. The ring was too small for him. Once there on his finger, he could not take it off. Dear God, can you not see that for yourselves? I ask again, how came you by it? Who cut his finger from him? Caleb swore he had seen the ring, but he was mistaken. The parson himself said the drowned man was not Joseph, and a man of God cannot lie! Can he? Tell me, I beg you. Did the parson lie, gentlemen?”

  “Alas! It seems he did.”

  It was Anne’s habit, when suffering an excess of emotion, to faint away. Her heart was already full to bursting when Caleb and Letty – who had been brought from the gaol in anticipation of her arrival – were led into the room. The sight of the two she had thought were lost for ever so filled her with joy that she collapsed into Caleb’s arms before he could utter a word.