by Jayne Davis
Of course, she was the most likely suspect. The statements from Tanner and Warren backed that up. He breathed deeply, controlling his anger. She’d helped Sandow threaten Connie with a knife.
“Barton, Warren, escort Mrs Strickland off the premises. She has ten minutes to—”
Connie’s hand on his arm stopped him. “I think locking her in her room would be better, my lord.”
Why? He took a deep breath; Connie would have a reason. “Lock her up.”
Mrs Strickland, mouth set, got to her feet and marched out. Barton and Warren followed.
Archer returned from his inspection. “No sign of any windows being forced, my lord.”
The front door then. Somehow that made it worse.
He felt a touch on his arm, and Connie spoke. “My lord, what would your father do if this man harmed you?” She turned her head away, looking at the assembled servants. Ah, they were the intended audience.
“You know how vindictive my father is. I’m his heir, and he’d take revenge. The person—or people—responsible would be tried and hanged. And anyone he even thinks may have helped—if they’re lucky, they may only get transported.”
Widening eyes suggested that his message was getting through.
“He’s not above bribing the magistrates and judges, or paying people to give false witness,” Will added. He wasn’t sure of the latter, but he wouldn’t put it past Marstone. “However wealthy Sandow might be through cheating the villagers, my father can outspend him. Marstone has influence in high places, and will win in the end.”
He wasn’t sure how much help his little speech would be, but it might restrain one or two of the villagers from backing up Sandow. Connie gave a nod when he looked at her. Moving his gaze across the servants, he wondered which of them would talk in the village.
“I expect you all to be vigilant from now on. If any of you see anything suspicious, you tell me. If I am not around, you tell Lady Wingrave, or Archer. Is that clear?”
Nods all round indicated that his message had got through.
“Very well. Archer, Danny, come with me, please.” He offered his arm to Connie, and led the small party to the library. A buzz of talk started as the kitchen door swung to behind them.
Connie sank into a chair and took a sip of the brandy that was still in her hand.
Will sat down at his desk and took some papers out of a drawer. He nodded at the two who had come in with them. “Take a seat.” They did so, Archer looking ill at ease and Danny curious.
“Why d’you reckon Sandow came now, my lord?” Archer asked.
“I had a bit of an argument with Mrs Strickland this morning,” Connie interjected. “She’s only just started going about the house again.” And if she’d obeyed Connie’s orders, she’d have spent part of the morning with the maids in the guest rooms—plenty of time to find out anything they knew of the past week’s goings on.
“That Mary looked frightened when you was talking, my lord,” Archer said, his unease disappearing as he became involved in the discussion.
Mary—the scullery maid who’d been waiting on the housekeeper. She could have been sent down to the village with anything Mrs Strickland had found out. If that was right, then the rest of the staff were probably guilty of nothing more than keeping their mouths shut about anything they saw.
Will looked up from the notes he’d been consulting. “Archer, tell me anything new you’ve found out about the villagers.”
Connie rested her head on the back of the chair, watching through half-closed eyes as Archer reported and Danny chipped in with his own opinions.
“Why has no-one got together to fight back?” she asked, when they finished speaking.
Archer shrugged.
“He gives money to whiddlers,” Danny stated.
“Informers, I imagine,” Will said. “So no-one trusts anyone else?”
“Not enough to go against him. He brings in the smuggling money, too, see.” Danny’s brow furrowed. “My lord, you said something about cheating, what was that about?”
Will gathered his lists together and started to explain. Connie was surprised at the amount of research he’d done. Danny and Archer both looked a little confused as he went through the calculations, but appeared happy to trust his conclusions. Danny’s eyes grew round at Will’s estimate of Sandow’s profit from a run.
“What I don’t know,” Will finished, “is how much each villager contributes, and what they get back.”
“It’s nothing like that, my lord,” Danny said. “But Sandow, he can talk to the Frenchies to buy the stuff.”
“Je parle français, aussi,” Will said.
Connie smiled as Danny scratched his head.
“I suspect the people he buys from speak sufficient English to conduct business,” Will added. “They must make a tidy profit, too.”
Danny nodded, glancing at Connie and back to Will. “My lord, why are you telling me all of this?”
Will leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands in front of his face. “Danny, you are the only person in the village who I know will not tell tales to Sandow. I am not going to stand for him threatening Lady Wingrave, or me. Or your family, come to that. Will you help me?”
The boy’s shoulders squared as Connie watched, and he sat up straighter in his chair. Connie didn’t like the idea of recruiting someone so young into this business, but Danny was already involved.
“What do I have to do, my lord?”
“You and Archer try to talk to a few of the villagers—without Sandow finding out. Once we get rid of Sandow I will take over organising the smuggling, but it will be run fairly.”
Danny’s head tilted to one side. “What if someone don’t want to contribute?”
“Then they need not.”
“They’ll tattle.”
“I can probably arrange for the revenue men not to listen.” Will looked Danny in the eye. “What I will not do is have people beaten up.”
Danny looked at Archer, doubt clear in his face. “They won’t listen to the likes of us.
That was true, Connie thought. But it seemed Will had been thinking this through.
“You two can find out if a few men might back me up. We’ll pick a time when Sandow is away and I’ll come and talk to them. Once we have a few people on our side, it will be easier to recruit others to help get rid of Sandow.”
“Maybe we start with Bill Roberts,” Danny said, looking at Archer. “I used to reckon he was sweet on Ma, so he don’t like Sandow much.”
“Very good. Archer, take him back to the kitchen and get Mrs Curnow to feed him. I’ll leave it to you to decide how best to get to talk to the right people.”
“Right you are, my lord. C’mon, Danny.”
Connie watched Will as he shuffled his papers together and put them away. There must be something more to his plan—Sandow would not let someone take over without a fight. And Will would make that his task; he wouldn’t get someone else to fight for him.
She would just have to hope he was careful.
Will pushed the desk drawer closed. Connie still sat in her chair, watching him. What was she thinking?
“Will, don’t underestimate him. He’s not big, not much taller than me, but—” She broke off, wrapping her arms around her body. “His eyes…”
“I will be careful, I promise you.” He went over to her chair, going down on one knee in front of it and taking her hand. “Connie, I’d like you to go to Exeter for a week or two, until this business is sorted out.”
“Why?” She pulled her hand back.
“I haven’t the men to protect you here, even with the two new ones. Or to Sir John in London, if you want to be sure of being beyond his reach.”
“No, Will. I’d be worried sick about you all the time.”
He let out a breath, surprised at the pleasure her statement gave him. He’d try again to persuade her, but tomorrow would be soon enough.
“Why did you stop me sending Mrs Stricklan
d away?” he asked, turning to other matters.
“She must know something about Sandow and what goes on in the village. I thought we should question her before we decide what to do.”
Of course. He should have thought of that himself.
“That’s a matter for tomorrow,” he said. “Come, let us see what Mrs Curnow can give us for dinner.”
“I’ve made sure everything is locked up,” Will said, standing in the doorway that linked their bedrooms. He walked over to where Connie sat in front of her dressing table, brushing her hair.
She met his eyes in the mirror. “You think he might come back?”
He’d said it to reassure her, not to worry her. “No.”
Not so soon, at least.
He took the brush from her hand, moving it down the length of her hair in slow strokes. She tilted her head back a little, eyes closed in what he hoped was enjoyment, but there was still that small frown.
“Come to bed?”
“If you wish it.”
She didn’t sound keen on the idea. Putting the brush down, he moved so he was leaning on the dressing table, facing her. “Connie, I’m a man. I always wish it.”
Good, that raised a tiny smile.
“But I do not want you—ever—to feel you must agree if you do not want to.”
She looked away. “I’m just…” She pressed her lips together. “Will, that man got into the house and no-one saw him, except Danny. He’d been lurking outside—”
“He’s gone now, and I’m here. I’ll keep you safe, Connie. No-one is going to threaten you again.
“Can you just hold me?”
“Yes.” He led her to his own bed, so she’d be free to leave in the night if she wanted to. The sky was not quite dark, and enough light came through the gaps in the curtains to let him see what he was doing. He climbed into bed and patted the space beside him.
She snuggled into him, her head on his shoulder and one arm across his chest. The tension he could feel in her back gradually eased, and a sense of calm spread through him. There were still problems to be solved, but they could wait until later. He wanted her, yes, but that, too, could wait. It was enough for now to have her in his arms.
Chapter 42
Friday 18th July
“What are we going to do with Mrs Strickland?” Connie asked as they sat down to breakfast. It was a question Will had struggled with since he awoke.
“What do you suggest?” He poured himself a cup of coffee.
“She won’t get another position without a character, so if you offer one she might tell you—”
“Us.”
A small curve of her lips told him she was pleased at being included. “Tell us what she knows,” she finished.
“Good idea. The nearest place she could look for work is Exeter.”
“Which is well within reach of Sandow.”
“Indeed—so the stage fare to London could be an added inducement.”
She smiled, and reached for another slice of toast. He was glad to see her with a better appetite than last night.
After breakfast, Will asked Warren to bring Mrs Strickland to the library. He sat behind his desk, Connie in a chair beside him, with notepaper ready on the blotter.
“My lord?” Mrs Strickland stood with her hands folded in front of her. Remarkably calm, under the circumstances.
“You are leaving my service as of today, Mrs Strickland, without a character.” He pushed some coins across the desk. “Two pounds, and that is generous.”
Mrs Strickland eyed the coins, her lips thinning, and then fixed her gaze on Will’s face. “I’ve served this household well, Lord Wingrave. You can’t just—”
“Oh, I can. Besides, you have your pay from Sandow as well, have you not?”
“He… I mean…”
Will smiled without humour. “At least you are not trying to deny your involvement.”
Mrs Strickland looked at the floor.
“Good,” Will continued. “I will drive you down to Ashmouth. I’m sure you’ll find someone there to help you get to Exeter, or wherever you choose to go.” Would her arrival in Ashmouth in the chaise be enough to make Sandow suspect that the housekeeper had given information to Will?
She thought so, for her face paled and her knuckles showed white.
“Or Lady Wingrave can write you a character, and someone will drive you into Exeter.”
“That… that would be preferable, my lord.”
“I’m sure it would,” Will retorted. “There is a price, however. You will tell us everything you have done for Sandow, and everything you know about his business. If your information is worth anything, I will even pay your fare on the stage to London.”
Mrs Strickland closed her eyes for a moment. “Yes, my lord.”
“Excellent. Lady Wingrave, would you like to start?”
They questioned her for half an hour, Will doing most of the talking and Connie taking notes and interspersing questions now and then. In the end, they had nothing concrete against Sandow, but a good deal of general information about people and relationships in the village. He’d pass that on to Archer later.
Will even wondered if the housekeeper was glad to be out of her current situation, but any small sympathy he may have had soon withered as it became clear she had willingly taken Sandow’s money, and bullied any of the other staff who stood in her way. She had at least confirmed that Warren and the others had done nothing more than look the other way and keep their mouths shut.
“I’ll get Stubbs to take her into Exeter in the chaise tomorrow,” he said, once Warren had taken the housekeeper away again.
“Do you think she’ll go to your father?” Connie asked, gathering her notes into a tidy pile.
“Why would she do that? Oh, to report further on my activities, in hope of some reward?”
“That’s what I was thinking, yes.”
“She may, but it doesn’t matter now. By the time she gets there, Sir John, or one of Talbot’s people, will already have told some tale to him.” He smiled without humour. “If she thinks Marstone will pay her for information he no longer needs, she’s heading for disappointment.”
“Not a way to keep your employees happy,” she stated, pushing her chair back. “There’s nothing else we need to do today, is there?”
“The estate books, still, I’m afraid.”
“And household accounts for me,” Connie said, turning her gaze to the window. “We could sit in the orchard for a while this afternoon if the weather clears up.”
“I’d like that.” He enjoyed the sway of her hips as she left, before turning to the ledgers.
Tuesday 22nd July
Peering into the glass as he scraped his razor down one cheek, Will wondered if the good weather would hold today. He was becoming impatient to get this business with Sandow finished.
His second visits to the farms over the last few days had been useful, but he’d missed Connie. He paused, the razor arrested halfway between jaw and bowl. Today’s visits could wait—he’d spend the day with his wife instead. Once Sandow had been dealt with, she could come and meet the farmers and their wives with him. She would be at ease with the wives in a way he was not, and could extract information he could not get himself. And he would have the pleasure of her company.
He scraped the last bits of his jaw, and rinsed the soap from his face. If she was to come with him, it would be helpful if she knew more about each farm. They could spend the morning together going over what he’d found so far.
His thoughts turned to Sandow again as he pulled his shirt over his head. Archer had identified a handful of men who might be prepared to stand up to him—if they had someone to spur them into action.
It was nearly mid-day when Archer interrupted their discussion in the library. “My lord, can you come down to the village this afternoon?”
Connie put her finger on the accounts to keep her place.
“What’s happened?” Will asked.
&n
bsp; “Bill Roberts is ready to talk, and Sandow’s been seen riding out of the village.”
Connie’s chest tightened. Will would go down to the village, but what would happen if Sandow came back?
“Give me ten minutes to change,” Will said to Archer. “I’ll see you outside.”
Archer nodded and left, closing the library door behind him.
“Stay indoors, Connie,” Will said. “Lock yourself in your room, if you feel you need to. Sandow’s not likely to come here, but with both me and Archer in the village, better to be safe than sorry.”
She put a hand on his arm. “Will, don’t underestimate him.”
He bent forward and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be careful, I promise. I made a will, remember? If anything happens to me, Harry Tregarth and Sir John will look after you—you won’t need to have anything to do with your father, or mine.”
“That’s all right then,” she retorted. Martha had said that men were often oblivious to things in front of them, but did Will really not realise she cared for him?
“Connie?”
“Be careful, Will. Please.”
He hesitated. “I have to go, Connie.”
Connie rubbed her face after he left, wondering if she should go after him and apologise. She loved him—she could not let him go with such a cool farewell.
The clatter of boots on the stairs roused her from her thoughts and she hurried into the hall. “Will!”
He turned in the doorway.
“Come back safely.”
His lips curved in a smile that went straight to her heart, then he waved a hand and hurried down the steps to where Archer was waiting.
She stayed in the doorway until the two men were out of sight, glad they had parted on good terms. She had to trust he wouldn’t take unnecessary risks and would indeed come back to her safely.
That didn’t stop the weight in her chest at the idea he might be hurt. Will hadn’t seen the menace in Sandow’s eyes.
“My lord?” Archer spoke from behind Will as they walked through the woods.
