We talked further, but the convivial mood had faded. Kitty had pinched my leg after the exchange about the notes, but I couldn’t understand what she meant by it. Wattson too appeared distracted, the child now half asleep in his arms with her thumb snug in her mouth. Crabbe ate his stew.
The Gills swore they had been at home all night. Raising all these children, they said, aged from three months to seventeen years old, had worn them to the bone. So much so they would collapse into bed at nightfall and know nothing until dawn. Jeb stifled a yawn. More likely he’d spent the night on the moors checking his snares, but I couldn’t prove it and had no interest in doing so. A wave of futility passed through me. The visit had been a waste of time and effort, just as I’d expected.
I gave Annie a few coins for the stew, leaving the cottage in an irritable state. It would be dusk soon, and I was no closer to discovering Aislabie’s tormentors. I mounted my horse, gathering the reins as the Gills’ dogs barked at our feet. Kitty followed a few seconds behind, Wattson holding her horse steady as she settled herself in the saddle. I set off at a trot through the field. The day was ending, and I’d learned nothing.
Kitty drew up beside me. She was grinning.
‘Did you see? The note, Tom,’ she added, handing the first letter to me.
‘I’ve read it a dozen times.’
‘Read what it doesn’t say.’
I glanced at her, catching her meaning. ‘There’s no mention of burning the moors.’
Kitty beamed. ‘I made it up. I pointed to a line about grazing sheep, and they didn’t know the difference. D’you see?’
‘They can’t read.’
‘Can’t read, can’t write.’
The Gills were innocent. Very good. At least now I could focus my investigations upon Studley Hall, as I had wished to do from the start. ‘Aislabie will be disappointed. He’d cart all ten of them off to gaol if he could, including the baby.’ I reached for Kitty’s hand. ‘What a cunning woman you are.’
‘Hell fire!’ Wattson, riding behind us, pulled his horse up short. He poked his fingers into his pocket, growing agitated. ‘She’s stolen the coins from my pocket!’
‘Annie?’
‘Little Janey. Gah! You’d best ride on, sir. I’ll catch up.’ He nudged his horse around and rode back towards the cottage to retrieve his coins.
Kitty watched him go, watched his hips rising up and down against the saddle. I watched Kitty.
Crabbe sucked a piece of meat from between his teeth. ‘Never trust a Gill,’ he said.
Our ride back to Studley Hall was a brief, happy moment in my trip to Yorkshire. I find my mind often returns to that journey, to that quiet contentment as we trotted through the country lanes. We almost stopped at the inn at Galphay for a bowl of punch, but – worrying over the fading light – continued on.
Crabbe had ridden ahead, so Kitty and I talked of private things, plans for the future, and plans for when we reached our room, and our bed. We talked so well and in such detail that it became necessary to stop, and tie up the horses, and find a clearing away from the path. The ground was too muddy to lie upon, so Kitty leaned against an oak tree, and I pulled her gown about her hips. She guided me into her, grazing her teeth against my neck. I pushed deeper and she cried out in pleasure, so loud the jackdaws cawed and flew off through the clearing.
‘We’re scaring the crows,’ Kitty said, and laughed.
As I said, my mind wanders back to that journey.
We straightened our clothes and stumbled back to the path. Wattson had caught up with the horses and was waiting for us. He didn’t ask where we’d been or what we’d been doing; he didn’t need to.
‘You retrieved your coins?’ I asked him, helping Kitty into the saddle.
Wattson nodded. ‘I’d best catch up with Crabbe,’ he said, and touched his hat before riding off.
Kitty bit her lip in mock dismay. ‘He’ll tell the servants.’
‘Let him. We’re married, remember?’
We rode on, casting long shadows upon the path. It was early evening now, the clouds tinged a warm pink. The air smelled of mud and wet leaves. Partridges pecked their way through the undergrowth, and squirrels raced each other around the tree trunks. As we drew close to Studley Royal, I heard a rustle high on a steep bank to my right. I turned in my saddle and saw a stoat, not much bigger than my hand, streaming backwards through the bushes, its body low and lean. It was dragging a rabbit twice its size along the ground, jaws clamped tight around the coney’s neck. It stopped for a moment, struggling with its cumbersome prize. Then it began again.
I watched it do this three times, and each time I thought it might give up. It never did. A tiny, determined creature, so much more powerful than it seemed, and full of purpose. It pulled the rabbit deep into the bushes and disappeared.
Chapter Fourteen
Something had changed at Studley Hall. I felt it the moment we rode past Simpson’s men. They paused in their work to watch us, clasping chisels and hammers in their strong fists. A tension rippled between us that would have had me reaching for my blade in London.
Simpson was standing on the top of a low wall, legs astride.
‘What’s happened?’ I called out.
He jumped down from the wall and sauntered away.
Bagby was waiting for us in the great hall in his smart green coat and his over-powdered wig. Any last shred of deference had vanished. ‘Come with me,’ he ordered, swivelling on his heel.
Kitty began to move. I touched her arm to stop her.
It took Bagby a moment to realise we weren’t following. He strode back to us. ‘Mr Aislabie demands your presence. You must come at once.’
He was stubborn, and so was I. We might have spent the rest of the day scowling at one another, while the fire crackled in the great stone hearth and the housemaids hurried back and forth on their errands.
‘Is someone hurt?’ Kitty asked.
‘Yes, madam,’ Bagby replied, making a great show of politeness. ‘Your husband’s ward. We caught him thieving.’
Damn it.
Bagby caught my dismay, and smirked in triumph. ‘He waits for you in the study, with his honour and Mr Sneaton. I can take you to them, sir – if you would be gracious enough to permit me.’ He gave me a sardonic bow.
‘I know the way. Leave us.’ I put my hand on Kitty’s back and guided her from the hall.
‘What has he done?’ Kitty asked from the corner of her mouth.
I had no answer.
We hurried through the drawing room. Lady Judith was perched on a plump red sofa, pretending to read a book. She threw me a disappointed look, then rose and followed us into her husband’s study without a word.
Aislabie was at the window. He kept his back to the room as we entered.
Sam stood by the unlit hearth, guarded by two of Aislabie’s footmen. He looked terrible. There was a cut upon his lip, and his nose was red and swollen. A thick stream of blood had poured from his nostrils, running down his neck and staining his shirt. His guards held an arm each, so tight he was forced on to tiptoes. Sneaton stood beside them, grim and angry, leaning heavily on his stick.
Most boys would have been dazed and frightened. Sam was not.
‘What the devil is this?’ I glared at the closest footman. ‘Let him go.’
The footman glanced at Sneaton, who shook his head.
Kitty approached them. If I’d done the same there would have been a fight, but they would not strike a woman. She put a hand to Sam’s chin and tilted his head. He’d lost the ribbon for his hair, and his black curls hung loose about his face, falling over his eyes. She brushed his hair away gently. There was a small cut on the bridge of his nose. ‘This will hurt,’ she warned, and pressed her finger and thumb on either side. Sam winced, but didn’t cry out. ‘Do you feel something inside it?’ she asked. ‘Any more blood?’
‘No.’
She moved her finger and thumb down the nose. ‘Ooh. Something crunched there.
’ She dropped her hand. ‘Your nose is broken.’
‘He’s lucky it’s not his neck.’ Aislabie said, turning to the room.
I strode to the door and wrenched it open. As I’d half-expected, a cluster of servants had gathered to listen, including Sally. They began to back away. ‘I need a bowl of hot water and clean cloths. At once! And someone run to the ice house.’ I slammed the door on them. ‘Who did this?’
‘I did,’ Sneaton replied, calmly. He held up his stick, to show how he’d used it as a cosh. ‘I’ve had my eye on him since you arrived. I know a gutter thief when I see one.’
Sam smiled a wolf’s smile. His teeth were red with blood from the cut upon his lip.
Sneaton didn’t see the quiet menace in his eyes; the unspoken threat. ‘I caught him in here, hunting through the desk.’
‘I won’t tolerate thieves,’ Aislabie said. ‘I’ll have him flogged for this.’
Lady Judith had listened to this exchange in silence, sitting in a chair by the door, her fingers linked together in her lap. ‘What were you searching for, Master Fleet?’ she asked.
Sam shifted his gaze. ‘A green ledger. South Sea accounts.’
Lady Judith looked startled. She glanced at her husband, and then at me. ‘I see.’
I think – at least Kitty told me later – that I managed to keep an even countenance.
Aislabie ordered the guards from the room. He stood over Sam, legs wide, hands upon his hips as if he were King Henry VIII, about to order a fresh beheading. No doubt this would have intimidated the workers on his estate, who relied upon his good favour. Sam had no such concerns. He had grown up among thieves and murderers: villains who would slit a man’s throat then sit back down and finish their supper. Aislabie didn’t frighten him. He kept his eyes upon Sneaton, the man who had dared to strike him.
‘Look at me,’ Aislabie commanded.
Sam ignored him.
There is nothing more foolish-seeming than a weak man posturing his strength. Worst of all to a small, slight boy of fourteen with a tangled mop of curls. ‘Insolent boy,’ he snarled. And in his rage, and embarrassment, he snatched Sam’s shirt in his fist.
My first instinct was to draw my blade. But Sam caught my eye and without a word, without a gesture, warned me to stand back. This was his game.
There was a knock at the door. Sally entered with a bowl of hot water and a stack of fresh cloths draped over her arm. She gave a short gasp. Aislabie, suddenly seeing himself through her eyes, let go of Sam’s shirt.
I used the distraction to drag a chair to the hearth and settle Sam upon it. Kitty soaked a cloth and began cleaning away the blood from his face and neck. It struck me that Sam was using his injuries to appear vulnerable. He couldn’t have expected or wanted a broken nose, but he added it at once to his arsenal.
When she had cleaned up the worst of it, Kitty dropped the cloth into the bowl. ‘You should be ashamed of yourself,’ she scolded Sneaton. ‘He’s just a boy.’
She knew very well he was far more than that.
‘Why do you search for the ledger?’ Lady Judith asked him.
A plain question: the sort Sam appreciated. It deserved a plain answer. ‘Queen wants it.’
I gritted my teeth. He wouldn’t spill our secrets without a plan – I just wished he’d shared it with me first.
Aislabie’s mouth had dropped open. ‘The queen? This is why she sent you?’ He spun to face me. ‘You ordered him to do this. You knew I would be on the moors.’
I didn’t contradict him. Might as well appear more cunning than I was.
‘You have lied to me from the start. I trusted you. I welcomed you into my home.’
‘You threatened the royal family, sir! What did you expect?’
‘What I was owed!’ Aislabie thundered ‘I could have used that ledger to defend myself, but I held my tongue, even when they threw me in the Tower. And through all my suffering, I never spoke out. Because I love my country. If the names in that book were revealed there would be riots in every town in England. The government would fall. I doubt the king himself could survive the scandal. He’d be kicked back to Hanover if he was lucky, along with your mistress,’ he sneered. ‘We’d be kneeling to Rome by the end of the year.’
‘You love your country. But you would blackmail the queen?’
Aislabie scowled. ‘I will not be judged by you, sir. You were a damnable disgrace long before you were sentenced to hang. And yet how swiftly you are forgiven. I hear my keeper touched your neck for luck, as if you were some popish saint.’ He snorted. ‘See what passes for a hero in these corrupted days! An infamous rake, stewing in his own vice and idleness – and I would say worse, if your wife were not present.’
‘At least Tom owns his faults,’ Kitty said. ‘And he is ten times the better man for it.’
‘Your loyalty is touching, madam,’ Aislabie acknowledged, gracing her with a patronising smile. ‘But your husband knows his true worth, or lack thereof. Tell me, Hawkins – what great services have you performed for your country?’
‘Well,’ I shrugged. ‘I didn’t bankrupt it.’
He glared at me, his lips pressed into a thin line.
‘Mr Aislabie is an honourable man,’ Sneaton answered in his place. ‘And this is his home. He has no need to defend himself to you.’
‘Thank you, Jack,’ Aislabie said. He shook his head. ‘See what I endure. Do you see, Judith? Would this scoundrel have dared speak to me in such a fashion, when I was chancellor? No indeed – he would have bowed and scraped with the rest of them. Has ever a man been so ill-treated? I sacrificed my own good name to save my country. I took the blame upon my own shoulders while the guilty prospered. But I was promised, I was assured, that once a decent time had passed, I would be raised up again. Eight years I have waited. And this is my reward. The first time I ask for aid, to save my family, the queen sends a villain and a thief to steal from me. Do you see how I am betrayed? Because I dared ask for help?’
‘You didn’t ask, Mr Aislabie. You threatened.’
Aislabie was silent for a moment. He looked at me, and then at Sam, sitting by the hearth with his swollen nose and bloody shirt. His shoulders sank. ‘Oh, just go, damn you,’ he said, wearily. ‘Pack your belongings and leave.’
Sam had been waiting for this. He pushed himself up from his chair. ‘No.’
Everyone stared at him.
‘You must give us the ledger first.’
Lady Judith, still seated in the corner, began to laugh. ‘And why would we do that, Master Fleet?’
‘A trade.’
‘Oh, a trade. I see.’ Lady Judith was amused. ‘Well, sir – let us negotiate. What great treasure do you have for us?’
‘Information.’
Here was the nub of it. Sam had watched his father negotiate such deals all his life. He would not have started down this path if he did not have something with which to trade. And there was only one thing of greater value to John Aislabie than his wretched accounts book. Now I thought of it, why would Sam hunt for the ledger in daylight? Why would he let himself be caught? He must have planned the entire business – save for the broken nose. He hadn’t anticipated Sneaton’s violent loyalty to his master, or the savage crack of the walking stick. A lesson he would remember for next time.
‘I know who killed the deer.’
A moment’s silence.
‘Well? Who was it?’ Aislabie spluttered.
Sam put his hands in his pockets.
‘Damn you, boy,’ Sneaton shouted, lunging for him, but Sam darted out of reach, hands still in his pockets.
Aislabie rushed forwards, but Kitty stepped in front of him, stretching out her arms to block the way. Sam, shielded behind Kitty, allowed himself a brief grin. Such foolish etiquette, these gents. In Sam’s world, women fought alongside the rest of the company. Children too, once they were strong enough.
‘It would seem there’s a deal to be struck,’ I said.
Aislabie rounded o
n me. ‘Now we see your colours, sir. You would trade over such a matter? You would risk our lives, my daughter’s life for this?’
‘If you love your family, hand over the ledger and we will leave your house at once.’
Aislabie’s jaw tightened, his chest rising and falling as he fought his temper. He thought for a moment, dark eyes shrewd and narrow. ‘How much does the queen pay you?’
I shook my head.
‘Come sir, let us not be delicate about such things. What will be your reward, if you hand over the ledger? Whatever she pays you, I will double it.’
‘That is not possible, Mr Aislabie.’
‘Why, do you think I cannot afford it?’ he gestured about his room, the rich furnishings and the work continuing outside in the dusk.
‘It’s not in your power.’
‘An elevation at court, is that it?’ he jumped in, eagerly. ‘But think, sir – money buys influence. I know the worth of every position, believe me. And I have friends at court, in government – even now. My son has many useful contacts. My brother-in-law, Sir William Robinson, is one of the most influential men in the country. I may have been cast into the wilderness, but I have men in my pocket even now. The queen is not the only power in the land, sir. There is a great web of connections—’
‘John!’ Lady Judith interrupted.
‘—clubs and organisations,’ Aislabie continued, oblivious. ‘You have heard of these new gatherings in London – the freemasons? I could offer introductions—’
‘John. I don’t believe Mr Hawkins has been offered payment or position.’
Aislabie’s brow furrowed.
Lady Judith turned to me, her expression soft. ‘She has some hold upon you. Something private.’
I gave her a half bow in acknowledgement.
Aislabie’s shoulders sank. He had quite transported himself with all his promises. I think I had just witnessed something of the man he once was. Mayor of Ripon. Lord of the Admiralty. Chancellor of the Exchequer. A man of national consequence. ‘I did not think . . .’ He turned a little pink. ‘I see I have misjudged you.’
‘Clearly.’ Kitty glared at him. ‘You thought him nothing more than a worthless rake.’
A Death at Fountains Abbey Page 15
