Matthew strolled across to them and pulled up a stool. He beckoned to a waiter and ordered refills of what they were having, and ale for himself.
'You wrote me this note, I believe?' he said.
'Benjy 'ere's me bruvver, 'e wrote it for me,' she said, glancing at her companion. 'I never went ter school.'
Matthew nodded at the man, who kept both fists steady, and who looked at Matthew from under glowering eyebrows.
'So what information is it you think I might be interested in?'
'What will yer pay?' Benjy asked.
Matthew raised his eyebrows.
'Surely that depends on what value I put on this information? If it is of use to me I can be generous.'
'Arabella 'ere's lost a protector,' Benjy said. 'She's destitute.'
'I suppose you mean Charles Twyford?'
'O' course. Who else?'
Arabella - if that was her real name - began to sob noisily.
'I saw the brute 'oo stabbed 'im,' she wailed.
' 'Ere, Bella, 'old on a minute,' Benjy interrupted. 'What'll yer pay, Gov?'
'If Arabella can identify the man who killed him, I'll pay well.'
They bargained, but eventually Benjy was satisfied and permitted his sister to speak. She had, she said, been restless, and Twyford was late for their tryst, so she had walked out to meet him. It was full moon, and she had seen him coming across the park, and a man was following him. She described the man closely enough for Matthew to be sure it was Colum O'Neill. He concealed his satisfaction and demanded more confirmation.
'How could you be so sure? He would have been some distance away from you.'
'I weren't that far off, an' I 'eard Charlie speak to 'im. Bloody Irishman, 'e called 'im, an' told 'im ter go back ter Irish bogs.'
'Didn't you try to help Twyford?'
'Nah, I couldn't.' She sobbed gustily as she recalled the night. 'This feller came after 'im when Charlie turned away ter come on. 'E stabbed 'im, then 'e pushed my Charlie in water, an' 'eld 'im down fer ages. If I'd 'a moved, 'e'd 'a killed me too! I stayed still as I could till 'e went away, back the way 'e'd come. Then I went ter look fer Charlie, but I knew 'e was gone. so I went back 'ome, an' told Benjy 'ere.'
'And I said ter Bella not ter get involved, she could do no good, an' 'oo'd believe 'er anyway, against one o' the nobs?'
'But I couldn't! I want 'im 'anged fer killin' my Charlie! Then Tommy, 'oo works in the kitchens at Charlie's club, 'eard as you was askin' about members there, an' 'e knew yer was a friend o' Charlie's. 'E told Benjy, so I said I 'ad ter tell someone.'
Matthew swallowed an instinctive desire to disclaim any friendship with Twyford, handed Arabella the money he'd promised, and took himself back to his rooms where he spent most of the rest of the night considering what best to do.
The magistrates would probably not believe the girl. They would think she was doing this for money. Even if they did, would he want a cousin of Brigid's accused of murder, and hanged? However despicable he thought Colum, it would be better to use the information to send him out of England rather than create a scandal which would inevitably touch her.
He must go down to Brighton. He sent a note to await Salcombe's return to London, and bade his man pack. He would drive himself down to Brighton on the next day.
*
Brigid was persuaded to go riding the following afternoon, even though there were storm clouds to the east. Sophia and Alex had driven to Worthing to visit an old friend of his mother's, and would be gone all day. Sophia had promised to ask this elderly lady if she knew of anyone needing a companion.
'There are more elderly people staying in Worthing than in Brighton,' she said. 'I don't want to lose you, but I know you are determined, so I mean to find you a pleasant situation.'
Colum insisted he had been told by the ostler at the stables that the storm would blow over, the winds were from the west and would blow the clouds away.
'He's never yet been wrong while I've been hiring his horses. Do come.'
Brigid was uncharacteristically bored. Her novel did not keep her attention, she could think only of when she might be leaving Sophia, and how she could be content in any new situation after the months she had spent with Sophia. She thrust to the back of her mind the thought that she would, in future, be unlikely to meet Matthew very often, if at all, and certainly not in the informal family atmosphere as now.
She thrust away such thoughts, changed into her riding habit, and went with her cousins up onto the Downs. Colum led the way and took a different path, heading more to the north than they had explored before.
'I've been longing to go and visit Ditchling Beacon. It's the highest point, and they say from the summit one can see all around.'
'It's not a very clear day today,' Brigid demurred. 'And have we time? How far is it?'
'About six miles, I'm told. We can easily ride there in not more than an hour.'
'Don't spoil the day, Brigid,' Sinead said. 'Jonah and Clarissa are leaving Brighton in a few days, and this might be their last chance to visit it.'
Brigid was reluctant, for the clouds seemed to her to be coming their way, but she did not wish to be accused of disappointing Sinead's friends, so she shrugged and followed Colum.
He set a fast pace, saying that if she was concerned about the time, the sooner they reached their objective the better.
Sinead, unusually for her, as she was normally eager to be at the front, lagged behind, and soon Brigid and Colum were well to the fore. Brigid could see the rising ground in front of them, and hoped they would soon be there and able to turn back. She turned to look for the others and saw they had halted.
'Wait, Colum, something is wrong.'
Jonah was riding towards them.
'Don't worry, it's a stone in Sinead's horse's shoe. We can get it out, but we'll have to ride more slowly for a while, to make sure the beast's not lamed. You go on, and we'll catch you up.'
'We'd better all ride together,' Brigid protested, 'and perhaps we had best start back now.'
'You can't disappoint Clarissa. We must go on, and we'll soon catch up with you.'
Colum had ridden on. This, Brigid mused, was far more like his boorish behaviour in London than his more polite attitude in Brighton. She hesitated between waiting for the others and following him, finally following slowly in an attempt to keep in touch with both.
She had almost reached the summit, after a steep climb, when the storm which had become even more threatening suddenly broke. There were loud claps of thunder, streaks of lightning, and torrents of rain that soaked her within minutes. Her mare, normally so placid, took instant fright and bolted, down a different slope to the one she had just ridden up. Brigid clung to the pommel and the mare's mane. She was a reasonably accomplished rider, but she was not convinced she could keep her seat in such a panic-stricken ride. It was never wise to gallop downhill, and the mare had only to put her foot in a rabbit hole or stumble and they would both come to grief.
She heard shouts behind her, Colum's voice, and the mare became even more distressed. Then Colum, on a larger horse, drew alongside and tried to grasp the reins that Brigid was clutching. The terrified mare swerved away to avoid him, then bucked, and Brigid was flung from the saddle to come to rest on a sodden patch of turf. She lay, winded, then struggled to sit up. Cautiously testing her arms and legs, she decided nothing was broken. Then Colum appeared, looming over her.
He leapt from the saddle and bent towards her.
'Are you hurt?'
'I don't think so, but I will probably have bruises all over me. Did you catch the mare?'
'No, she's gone. She vanished into a copse of trees, and I lost sight of her. Besides, I needed to come back and make sure you were not injured.'
'Are the others here?'
'Not yet. Do you want to wait for them, or try and find some shelter? I can see a village not far off, and there will be somewhere you can wait until they come, then we can decide what to do, when
this storm has passed over.'
'So much for your ostler's weather prediction,' Brigid grumbled as Colum helped her to stand.
'If you sit on my horse, I can walk and lead you down to that village. Let me lift you up.'
Brigid was feeling more shaken than she had at first realised, and was grateful not to have to walk. It took half an hour to reach this village, but there was a small alehouse, and a sympathetic woman who ran it. She exclaimed at their plight, told a lad to see to the horse, sent Colum into the tiny coffee room, where she promised her man would soon see to him, and whisked Brigid upstairs to her own bedroom.
'Take off those wet clothes, dearie. Here's a towel, and one of my gowns. You'll be lost in it, but it's dry and you'll be decent while I dry your habit.'
*
Chapter 12
When Matthew, soaking wet from the thunderstorm he had driven through on the outskirts of Brighton, arrived at the Langstons' house he was greeted by a distraught Sophia.
'Brigid is missing!' she said. 'Alex and I have been to Worthing, and she went riding with the O'Neills and their friends, and she hasn't come home. Matthew, what has happened to her?'
He tried to subdue his own alarm.
'They will have sheltered,' he said. 'Horses don't like thunderstorms, so I doubt they'd have tried to ride home through them. Where did they go?'
'I don't know. They usually rode on the Downs. I was just about to send Alex round to the O'Neills to see if they had come home and rested there. But she would have sent word, I know she would. She'd have known I'd be worried.'
'I'll go and ask. Where do the O'Neills live? Can I take Alex's riding horse?'
'Of course. Matthew, do find her.'
'Don't worry, I will. And if any harm has come to her I will make whoever is responsible pay, don't worry.'
At the house where the O'Neills were lodging he found a state of confusion. Mr O'Neill was striding up and down the drawing room, unusually agitated, and swearing he would bring whoever was responsible to justice.
Responsible for what, Matthew wondered.
Mrs O'Neill and Sinead were slumped on two sophas, and when he was ushered into the room Sinead leapt to her feet and ran to sit beside her mother.
'It wasn't my fault!' she said. 'They rode on so far ahead we couldn't catch them, and then the thunder started. Jonah insisted we came home, Clarissa is terrified of thunder and was hysterical.'
Gradually Matthew, subduing his desire to take her throat in his hands and throttle her, heard the story of the stone in her horse's hoof, the way the three of them had been left behind, and how her friends had insisted on returning to Brighton at once when the storm broke.
'Jonah said we could never catch them. He said they would have found shelter, and if they were inside some cottage we would never find them.'
'That's true,' Mrs O'Neill said. 'You can't blame Sinead. What could she do, when there was an older man there?'
'I do not blame her,' Matthew said, maintaining a fierce control over his emotions. 'I blame whoever organised this expedition on a day when it was obvious there would be a thunderstorm.'
'Jonah and Clarissa wanted to see the Beacon, and they are leaving Brighton in a day or so,' Sinead said. 'It was our last opportunity. And Brigid need not have come if she was afraid!'
'That's enough!' her father, who had remained silent, suddenly turned his fury onto her.
'What have you done to search for them?' Matthew asked, doing his best to control his anger and fear.
'I sent out my own groom, and as many as I could find from the stables where the horses were hired. They, of course, were more concerned to find the missing horses than to look for my son and niece!'
'There are still a few hours of daylight left. Can we not find others to search?'
'Yes, if you promise to pay them! I cannot find anyone willing to ride out at this time without payment.'
Matthew gave him an angry look, turned and left the room without uttering any farewell. If he had no love for his niece, surely the man would want to search for his only son!
*
'I won't stay here all night!' Brigid declared.
She and Colum, both dressed in clothes that were far too big for them, and smelled of onions and wood smoke, were in the tiny coffee room. She was still shivering, partly from the soaking she had had, also with anger at the predicament she found herself in.
Colum's horse, she had been told, had strained a tendon and could not be ridden. Nor could he be walked back to Brighton, it was too far in his condition.
'You'll have to stay here, unless you want to walk back to Brighton,' Colum said. 'There are no gigs for hire.'
Brigid knew he was right. She had no idea where they were, in a couple of hours it would be dark, and since the rain still poured down she knew she would never find the way, as well as risking an ague. She didn't want to accept it, though.
The landlady had brought a stew which consisted mainly of rabbit and turnips, and Brigid was so hungry she ate it, scraping the bowl with a hunk of black bread, washing it down with ale, all the landlady could produce.
'You and your husband can have my bed, my lady, and me and my man will sleep down here.'
Brigid stared at her in amazement.
'My what? He's not my husband! Thank you, I'll be glad of a bed, but he can sleep out in the stable. It's all his fault we are in this predicament!'
The landlady looked disapproving.
'You shouldn't be jaunting around the country with someone not your husband,' she said, pursing her lips.
Brigid started to explain, then decided it did not matter. What did matter was being able to return to Brighton as early as possible on the following day.
'Then I thank you for the offer of your bed, mistress. I will retire now, and please can you wake me early? I will need to start walking to Brighton as early as possible.'
'I'll put your habit to dry in front of the fire,' the landlady said, as Brigid swept from the room, ignoring Colum's protests that he did not wish to have to sleep in any stables.
She would, she determined, leave this wretched hovel as soon as it was light, and make her own way to Brighton. Sophia would be frantic with anxiety. If she had to walk seven or eight miles, it would take her three or four hours, she calculated. It would not be easy walking in her riding boots, but that was a minor consideration. Perhaps she might beg a lift on a carrier's cart. Or, and the thought cheered her, there would probably be farmers going into the town with produce they had to sell, and she might beg their help.
Somewhat cheered by these thoughts, she lay down and pulled the coverlet over her, ignoring the unpleasant evidence of other bodies that had lain there, and the suspicion that the coverings had not been washed in all their long lives.
*
Brigid must have been more exhausted than she had realised. When she awoke it was to find the sun high in the sky, pouring in through the small window that was all the light she had in this tiny bedroom. She stretched, feeling the bruises from her fall, but determined to ignore them.
Why had the landlady not woken her? She picked up her boots, wrinkling her nose at their sodden condition which made it difficult to pull them on, but she finally managed it and went downstairs.
Colum, now dressed in his own clothes again, was seated in the coffee room eating ham and eggs, with a tankard of ale in front of him.
The landlady was hovering nearby, and gave Brigid a tentative smile.
'Why did you not wake me as I asked?' Brigid demanded.
'Oh, your habit was not dry, and the gentleman here said not to wake you, you had been shocked by your fall and needed to sleep. Will you have some ham and an egg?'
Brigid felt a childlike impulse to refuse, but she would be better able to walk if she had some food to sustain her, so she nodded and sat down at the table. Colum began to justify himself, but she ignored him, and in the end he relapsed into a sulky silence. After she had eaten she retired to change into her
own clothes, now dry though badly creased, and wondered if Colum's horse could be ridden. If he could, she would steal the brute and leave Colum to walk back to Brighton.
The ostler shook his head when she went out to the stables to ask, and Brigid felt the heat in the animal's leg. She would have to walk. She was just leaving the stable yard, having ascertained that the lane which ran through the village would meet with a bigger road she could take, that led towards Brighton, when a gig drew up before the ale house. Her uncle was driving it.
'So, niece, here you are. Your aunt has been so worried she has been unable to sleep all night. Is Colum here?'
'Oh, how glad I am to see you! I thought I'd have to walk all the way home. Colum is inside. Did Sinead and her friends return safely?'
'Yes, and told us you had slipped away from them.'
Brigid stared. 'Slipped away? It was they who hung back and would not keep pace with us!'
Colum emerged just then from the alehouse, and was smiling at his father. There was something in the smile Brigid did not like. It was too complacent.
'One of our horses bolted, is probably back in his stable by now, and the other strained a tendon,' he said.
'Very clever. Now, both of you, get into the gig. I hope we can return to Brighton without too much attention being paid to us. Your behaviour in spending a night together, if it becomes known, will cause sufficient scandal. There is only one thing for it, Colum. You and Brigid will have to be married as soon as possible.'
*
Matthew had searched the Downs in the direction of the Beacon until it was dark, and began again at first light. The stables from where the horses had been hired could not tell him anything, and the proprietor was too angry about the missing two horses to be helpful.
He was approaching the Beacon late in the morning when he saw a gig being driven towards him, and his relief was great when he saw Brigid was in it.
'Thank goodness,' he exclaimed, riding up to it and briefly acknowledging Mr O'Neill and Colum. 'Were you caught out in the storm?'
He suddenly realised that Brigid's mouth was set in a thin, straight line, and her eyes were stormy.
The Irish Bride Page 12
