Canasta was led out on a simple rope halter, the bridle of the same material. Given there was no saddle, it was an abashed stable lad who had to respond to the questioning look.
‘Mr Colpoys’ orders, Ma’am.’
Betsey took the rope and turned towards the gate. ‘Do remember to thank him for me.’
She held her tears till she was far enough away not to be observed. Only then did she lay her head against that of Canasta and cry, feeling an acute sense of isolation. There were other friends from her past, but none that lived so close as to be of any help. And they too might react like Annabel. The thought of Stephen’s mother rose up to be dismissed; how could she consider asking to stay with her when she was contemplating a union with another man?
It would have possibly cheered her to know that, back at Cottington Court, her continued non-appearance had become the subject of consternation, with Henry Tulkington quite changed from the sanguine mood of earlier. His aunt, having made sure Elisabeth had not left by the main gate, had sent the servants out to search the grounds and check if anyone had seen her at the various gates – kitchen garden and access to the farms or in the church – all to no avail. A long-walled estate had other exits, doors that had been checked and were barred from the inside.
Henry’s first response was to harass those same servants into getting his coach horses into their harness but, that done, it stood waiting for a master who did not appear. He was back in his study, hands on the mantle, staring once more at the fire, having suppressed his immediate desire to go in pursuit of Elisabeth and, if need be, drag her back by the hair. It simply would not serve. Experience, both above and below the legal line, had convinced him that, just like dealing with Daniel Spafford, time was an ally.
According to his aunt, the association between Elisabeth and this Brazier was of short duration. She was besotted by a fellow she did not really know and one, moreover, who had shown no compunction in lying to her about how he had come about his cuts and bruises. These had been described to him in detail by Tanner, which moderated his anger towards the gateman on the previous night.
A complete reversal of his position would not be wise; Elisabeth would smoke that as an invention. But he could soften in the face of such determination, as he had appeared to do with Langridge, then set enquiries afoot as to the nature and reputation of Brazier. It was typical of an enamoured woman to describe the man they admired as being a paragon, while he had never in his life met anyone who could truthfully claim the tag. All had flaws; the trick was to find them.
Added to which, and the thought produced a rare smile, he could always set Hawker on Brazier again; let the scoundrel explain that away as falling off his horse! First he would write to his uncle in London, requesting that he gather information which, in his capacity as a King’s Counsel, and one who moved in the highest social and governmental circles, might produce something of use in the denigration line.
That arrived at, he still had to go after Elisabeth and try to persuade her to return with him so, rising from his chair, he went out to his waiting coach only to see her, in the distance, coming up the driveway, leading a pony. He waited by the traces, his Aunt Sarah, having been alerted to this apparition, taking up station in the front doorway.
Both observed, as she came closer, the shoulders were far from square; there was a physical attitude to go with the tear-stained face and partly unpinned hair. Two servants opened the gate to let her through, one taking the rope and leading Canasta away. She looked at her brother with nothing even hinting at regard, only to hear him say very softly,
‘I was going out to find you, Elisabeth. You may not take it as true, but I was worried and, seeing you now in a somewhat dishevelled state, it seems my concerns were justified.’
‘I must go and change, Henry.’
‘Of course. But that done, please come to me so we can talk.’
‘What point is there in that?’ she asked, with eyes on the ground.
‘If we exchange views, it may be there is one. Within the hour, shall we say?’
‘Very well,’ she replied, passing by him, only to stop and turn, straighten her shoulders and meet his gaze directly. ‘Tanner, at the gate. Do not overly chastise him. I threatened the poor fellow with a prison hulk and worse if he did not let me pass.’
Henry was able to manufacture a kindly look, while recording the fact of her blatant lie. Tanner reported he had seen Elisabeth approach the gate, but he had refused her permission to leave as instructed, his last sight of her heading back up the drive. This meant Elisabeth had taken another route out and, given the various gates were barred from the inside and had been seen to be so in the last hour, it implied she had assistance from one of the estate servants.
That was a problem to be dealt with, but not right now. For the moment a touch of blandishment was more appropriate. ‘Few would be formidable enough to gainsay you, sister, if you were determined, would they?’
As ever the study was too hot and Betsey, in an initial act of defiance, left open the door and waited for the reaction; there was none, or at least not what was expected. Having been sat, Henry stood to greet her.
‘Now you look much more yourself. I shall order tea.’ He waited, obviously for a response, but none came, though it was clear by her posture the spirit that animated her was back in full force. ‘It would be best to sit.’
Betsey made for the card table, this set at a decent distance from the burning logs, while Henry occupied a chair close by but facing her. ‘Would it be possible to say we have both been foolish, Elisabeth?’
‘It is not a word I would want to apply to myself.’
‘Headstrong, then?’ Seeing her face close up he was quick to add, ‘It matters not, really. We are where we are, and I for one have come to the conclusion matters cannot stay the way they are.’
‘If you seek to confine me to the house, they most certainly will.’
‘I do not expect you to accept that I was only concerned to protect you.’
‘From?’
‘Yourself?’ Again she frowned. ‘And I admit to perhaps overreacting to what I perceived.’
‘Which is?’
‘Let us not reprise what we already know. Suffice to say I knew before he walked through the door to this room why Brazier had come to Cottington and so, I suspect, did you. I count you as headstrong, and I use that word in memory of how you were in the matter of Langridge.’
‘Surely you mean Stephen.’
‘Forgive me – a habit and a bad one, to refer to someone become a relative by their surname. When he asked for your hand you were in your minority, so I had the right to ask if such a union was both wise and proper.’
‘One I can recall only too well: a right that you exercised to the full.’
‘But I did come round in the end, which at least you must acknowledge.’
If the face was set and she was silent, her response so obviously had to be yes Henry did not wait for it to be confirmed.
‘I am at an earlier stage with these proposed nuptials, but experience tells me I will not quickly change my view, even if I am prepared to admit to the possibility. All I ask is that you show discretion. Allow time for your real feelings to be established beyond peradventure. It would be tragic if you were mistaken.’
Betsey had to hold steady in the face of that advice; she had harboured similar thoughts regarding too much haste. Henry seemed not to notice and continued in his placatory tone.
‘You are free to come and go as you wish, and to use whatever mode of transport you desire. I have been too harsh in my restrictions.’
‘And Captain Brazier?’
He had to admire her refusal just to accept his mellowing, but noted her caution in the naming of the swine pursuing her. There was no Edward!
‘You may receive him as you wish, properly chaperoned, of course.’
‘And you?’
‘Not yet, in time perhaps. For now it would be best to invite him on those
occasions when I am absent. Meanwhile, you may wish to see to the sending of this.’
Henry rose and came close to hand over a letter, which caused raised eyebrows when Betsey read the superscription.
‘It is, in part, an apology to Captain Brazier for my previous manner of addressing him, though I would admit it is far from effusive. Oh, and I commiserated with him, of course, for the injuries he suffered falling off his horse.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It was commonplace for a naval captain to keep a list of men he could call followers – prime hands and petty officers who, in the event of his getting a ship, especially should there be the threat of war, he could call on to join him – and Brazier was no exception. Among them were the contact addresses of the men who had formed his barge crew aboard HMS Diomede, provided so that their dependants could draw upon their pay warrants and to which would be sent any notification of death or injury.
These men went everywhere with their captain; in ship visits to colleagues or admirals or to take him ashore and off again. More vitally, if he took part in an opposed landing, or boarded an enemy vessel, they were the people at his side. Those who volunteered to man His Majesty’s ships hailed from seaports in the main and, when discharged, it was to those they returned, Chatham and Portsmouth being the most common, though there were numerous others: Plymouth, Falmouth, Harwich as well as a dozen more of the size of Deal. It was to such places the letters were sent, some never to be read, given the intended recipient was absent, possibly having taken service on a merchant vessel, but others found their mark.
The coxswain of HMS Diomede, Tom ‘Dutchy’ Holland, who had commanded his barge crew, had been at Brazier’s side in some hot actions and he was a doughty fighter, which was required now. Post for him went to the Old Quay Inn, which lay at the head of Restronguet Creek off the Carrick Roads above Falmouth Harbour, a place where there was work and pay from private boat owners for a man with Dutchy’s skills.
He was working on the rigging of a private yacht belonging to a Mr Dobson when alerted, which took him to the Old Quay Inn to find out what was afoot, the notion of his receiving a written communication enough reason for gossip well before the contents were known. Once read to him he requested a reply be sent at once, pledged his credit to the innkeeper for some silver coin, before going to his lodgings to pack a ditty bag and tell his woman he was off to serve his captain. Given he had spent much of their time as a couple at sea there was no protest, as long as she could be sure of a supply of money to feed her and their three children.
‘Take my regrets to Mr and Mrs Dobson, for he is a good man and she a kindly soul, but when such as Captain Brazier calls, it cannot be ignored. The Turk has said he will make arrangements as soon as I get to his side, so you drop by the Old Quay regular until how it’s to be done is told you.’
Of the dozen letters Brazier had despatched, four had engendered replies. This put the recipients, from various places around the country, on the road to Deal, walking where they must, hitching rides on carts if they were available. Within a short time of taking occupation of Quebec House, Brazier could reckon on having not only his favourite servant to see to his needs, but also a trio of hard-fisted scrappers to watch his back.
Having Betsey visit his new abode after a week of occupation was welcome, if stifling; her aunt was in the far-from-spacious drawing room the whole time, which made any kind of conversation stilted and replete with banalities, this as tea was offered, infused and poured. Brazier had visited Cottington once, at a time when the brother was away on his affairs and they, with the obligatory and very welcome walk in the grounds, had been freer in terms of exchange.
Betsey had made use of the church in order to distract her aunt and so he had met the old soak of a priest, the Reverend Doctor who had the living. The navy had its serious drunks and Brazier had been exposed to a number of them, but he wondered if any could hold a candle to Moyle. It was mid-morning and, if he was not actually so drunk he could not function, he was very obviously far from completely sober.
This kind of visiting demanded he pay his respects to the man’s wife and, in Mrs Moyle, he found a cause for true sympathy. The length of her suffering was in her face and body, she being a woman who looked as if she scarcely ate, while her manner was fussily remorseful. Tea was offered but declined and off they went to continue what conversation could be managed.
Yet there could be no physical contact apart from a bestowed kiss on the hand when departing, a restriction that he knew was troubling Betsey as much as he in an increasingly obvious way. Did she perceive the level of frustration in his eyes as much as he discerned in hers? The only person he could even talk to about this was Flaherty, a man equally smitten and even more frustrated by it.
‘It would be easier if she had never been married, Vincent. But she has and is therefore accustomed to a relationship that is physically unhindered.’
‘Sure I am that, having met the lady, my patience too would be sorely tested.’
‘Enough of my moans. Have you found anything out?’
‘For a place where rumour is rife and gossip a way of life, the folk round here can be mighty tight-lipped, even after my having lived here come two years. I mentioned care to you before, Edward, and I worry that I don’t know the whys and wherefores of to whom I am talking. It is a place where it is wise to know the cousinage, who’s related to who, when you query to a body.’
‘You said to me that Saoirse knew everything that went on in Deal.’
‘Well, if she has knowledge of this, she is not saying. When I asked her I got a look that said to mind my own business.’
‘Does that not imply she does have information?’
‘None she’s willing to give out. Happen if you asked on your own account, she might be more forthcoming. I have to beat around the bush, whereas you can enquire direct.’
Brazier might acknowledge the truth of such an assertion, but he also had to admit the notion of him visiting the Playhouse and asking was impossible. On receiving the note of commiseration from Tulkington, he had deduced he would be a fool to accept the sentiments expressed. Could it be such a man had performed even the half volte-face to which he alluded? This implied he still disapproved, but would not stand in his sister’s way.
Was he being cunning, which led to an examination of what he might be up to? If the folk of Deal were not being open about the fabled Daisy, they were very much willing to claim to know Henry Tulkington and in a way that indicated familiarity with his prominence.
The lawyer to whom he would pay his rent had initially shown surprise bordering on alarm at the mention of the name, only to then praise to the rafters a local worthy so very successful in his enterprises. He was also not shy, it appeared, when called upon to gift funds to local projects, the most pressing presently being the aim to lay the three main, prone-to-mud thoroughfares with cobblestones.
The tradesmen who called at Quebec House to supply food and drink also responded with respect when the name was mentioned. So he now knew the family had been prominent in Deal for several generations, the father having enhanced an already high standing in the community. The commendations he heard were hard to square with the misery guts he had encountered, a point forcibly made to Flaherty who sought to advise his friend.
‘Even I know you won’t hear much said against the Tulkington name, Edward, but does it occur that that might be because he’s rich and thus not a man to cross? Money makes cowards of us who must sell our services, be it horseflesh or tea.’
‘Speaking of which, I have become a dab hand at the making of the brew, which would astound some who know me.’
Brazier alluded to the brewing of the leaves in a deliberate change of subject, He had no desire to include Flaherty in the train of his thoughts: recurring ones in which he speculated that folk who talked freely to him of the Tulkington family virtues would be just as willing to talk to Henry about him and, in a small town like this, there were people present
to observe his every move.
‘And what about the fellow who taxes it so to render it a luxury?’
‘I’m off to see the Pitt tomorrow – to entertain his sister, I suspect, more than any desire on his part.’
‘It’s as well your black eye is fading.’
Brazier automatically moved his back, as if checking it had ceased to cause discomfort, noting the hesitation before Flaherty spoke again: not just the gap in his conversation but the look on his face, which appeared embarrassed.
‘I hate to bring this to your attention, but in pursuit of what you seek, I have taken my eye off my business these last ten days.’
‘I also suspect it has occasioned some expense?’
‘That grin you’re wearing looks mighty self-satisfied, Edward.’
‘It is not intended to be, I assure you. I didn’t raise it for fear of causing offence. You recall when we first met with Saoirse, she referred to the – what shall I call it? – the impecunious nature of your affairs. I trust you not to have been indulging in high-value clarets, but I’m aware, even on such a short acquaintance, almost all of what takes place in Deal, both socially and in business, does so in proximity to drink.’
‘Very true.’
‘Some of which you are obliged to purchase in the hope of loosening tongues?’
Flaherty grinned. ‘I will own to it not always being a duty.’
‘It is nevertheless on my behalf, so must fall to my account.’
‘It is a sum I cannot demonstrate.’
‘You don’t have to, Vincent. I will take it on trust.’
That took away the grin, to be replaced with contrived wonder. ‘From a dealer in horseflesh?’
‘Even in such a benighted occupation, there must be one honest fellow.’
‘Not a wager I would take.’
The Contraband Shore Page 19
