by Rebecca King
A smattering of applause and cheers broke the air, causing Hugo to raise his own hands to quieten them down.
“I would like you to help us if you would be so kind.” Various agreements met his request. Clearly, the villagers were happy to do anything they could. “I would like someone to go to Harriett’s cottage and secure it.”
“It’s already done. Mr Crabbard has gone and locked it up tight, he has.”
“Can someone tend to Harriett’s plants? They need watering. She will be devastated if they die while she is – away.”
“I’ll do it,” an old man shouted from the back. “I’m a gardener, so I’ll do it.” His voice was decisive, daring anyone to object.
“That cat of hers, Harrold, is at my house,” a younger woman added. “He can stay with us and play with the children.” She glanced around her as some of the crowd tittered. “What?” She said, looking askance at them.
Hugo fought the urge to snort derisively. The thought of the huge beast playing nicely with any child filled him with horror, but the woman had a stubborn tilt to her chin and was clearly willing to take on the role. All he could do was offer her a weak ‘thank you’.
“What was she poisoned with?” Another voice came from the back of the crowd.
“It seems she ate some apple pie someone gave her and it contained poison. If anyone does go near the house, don’t touch any of the pies: they are dangerous.”
Again, disgruntled grumblings swept through the crowd.
“Do you know who done it?”
“Not yet, but I will find them and make sure they are brought to justice.”
Again, rumblings swept through the crowd. Hugo heard the offers for help but carefully ignored them. The last thing he needed was a vigilante gang on the loose.
“Harriett ate some of the poisoned apple pie, but not much, so we are hopeful she will respond to the herbs she has been given. We will just have to wait and see, until then I suggest you all go home,” Joshua added, when nobody made any attempt to move.
Hugo stepped forward. “I want everyone to remain on the lookout. There is a stranger in the area. Although I am not suggesting that he is the one responsible, he may be dangerous. If you see him anywhere near Harriett’s house, please don’t challenge him - come and tell us.”
With murmured agreements, the crowd slowly began to disperse. Most of them relocated to the tavern for a drink, and a gossip over the latest turn of events.
“Please sir?” A group of women hovered at the base of the steps, clearly hesitant to ask their question, but reluctant to go home. The question made most of the remaining villagers stop to listen. “Is Harriett leaving us when you marry?”
Hugo froze. Although, for propriety’s sake, Joshua had explained Hugo’s presence in Harriett’s house nicely, it unfortunately opened up several questions the curious villagers would expect to be answered.
“We haven’t discussed it yet.” It was the truth: he hadn’t told Harriett he was posing as her fake fiancé. “But I don’t think that Harriett will want to leave her beloved Padstow.” He sent a silent prayer for forgiveness to Harriett, hoping she would understand.
It seemed to appease the ladies, who turned and walked away, their heads together as they whispered.
Joshua shut the door, unsurprised when they returned to the treatment room to find Harriett unmoving.
“Let’s transfer her to one of the guest rooms. A bed has to be more comfortable than the table. It could be a while yet before she is well enough to begin to move around.” Joshua didn’t add that he was concerned at how deeply unresponsive Harriett was. He would have one massive problem on his hands if she died.
The prognosis didn’t look good, but he had seen enough frantic relatives to know that Hugo’s feelings for the woman ran deep. Hugo would undoubtedly stop at nothing to seek out the person, or persons, responsible and ensure they faced the full weight of justice.
Together they moved Harriett to one of the guest bedrooms where Marion and Mrs Partridge changed her into a nightgown to make her more comfortable. Mrs Partridge was fighting tears by the time she got to the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes met and held Hugo’s for a moment, before she gave him a sad smile and left without a word.
Hugo had the distinct impression that she knew he had been in the cottage when she had visited earlier that morning. Wisely he stood back and watched her leave.
His thoughts immediately turned to Simon, who needed to answer for himself. After all, the poison had been in one of the pies Simon had insisted on bringing around. It seemed odd that Harriett was poisoned on the day that Simon mysteriously had to go out of town.
Lost in thought he glanced up to see Joshua watching him closely. “Marion has opened up the other guest bedroom. You are welcome to stay the night.”
Hugo shot him a grateful nod of thanks. “If you wouldn’t mind. I don’t want to stray too far. What about my horse?” He only just realised he had left the poor animal standing outside the front door, yet hadn’t seen it earlier when they had addressed the crowd.
“The ostler at the Inn is looking after it for you. Do you have any idea who might do this to her?” Joshua asked, motioning Hugo out into the large hallway.
“The pies came from Simon de Mattingley.” Hugo replied, wondering whether to reveal that Simon was Harriett’s father.
“It is highly unlikely that he would poison his daughter.”
Hugo glanced at him and raised his brows. “Does everyone know?”
Joshua looked at him. “Of course everyone knows he is her father. He had an affair with her mother while he was married to his wife.” He saw the surprise on the other man’s face and sighed.
“Tell me more,” Hugo invited, entering the small parlour at the rear of the house. He accepted the goblet of brandy gratefully, smiling ruefully at the highly polished keg sitting on the dresser. Clearly not all of the smugglers spoils had been removed by the Redcoats. Still, he couldn’t begrudge the man a decent tipple, and settled back to savour the amber liquid.
“I am not one to gossip, and I can only tell you what I have heard on several occasions from the older villagers who knew her mother,” Joshua began, sitting back in his chair wearily.
“Apparently Simon de Mattingley became ill. The doctor at the time couldn’t treat him properly, or his treatments weren’t working, I am not sure which. Anyway, de Mattingley’s wife called for Harriett’s mother, Helena, to help. She did treat him, but - well, they grew closer than they should have done.”
Hugo nodded, knowing instinctively where this was going.
“Eventually Helena found out she was carrying Harriett, only de Mattingley couldn’t marry her because he was already married.”
Hugo closed his eyes, knowing he shouldn’t judge the man without knowing the full circumstances, but felt a surge of anger toward him anyway. At least now he understood why Harriett had been so distant with her father.
“Apparently, he was around until Harriett was a young girl. When she was about two or three, something happened and he stopped visiting the house. As far as anyone knows, he didn’t see Harriett again, other than in passing around the village, until her mother died.” Joshua shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearly finding it awkward to relay the next part of the story. “Because of her reputation as a witch, some of the village elders didn’t want Helena buried in the churchyard.”
Hugo jerked his gaze from the fire, back to the man opposite, a dark scowl on his face.
“Simon de Mattingley came forward and insisted she be buried at the Manor. Apparently Harriett’s mother rests in a corner of the churchyard there. It stemmed the disquiet amongst the villagers and gave the mother of his daughter a final resting place.”
“Good God,” Hugo cursed, realising that must have been the one and only time Harriett had been to the Manor. His heart ached for her and the life she had been unfairly dealt so far.
In contrast, he had had everything he had ever wanted or needed. With
four elder brothers, he always had someone to play with and had the best nannies money could buy. His parents spent a lot of time with their children on a daily basis, raising them directly rather than leaving it to hired help. He had grown up in a large and busy, but reasonably happy household.
That, unfortunately, had been part of his downfall. He had been thoroughly spoilt and had no concept of money and its worth as he grew up. By the time he was a young man, he had been a tearaway, happy to spend his days doing nothing more than racing curricles, bedding women and attending balls and parties. He had had no responsibility, and no interest in doing anything worthwhile with his life except what he wanted, when he wanted.
Until the day that his father got fed up with his wastrel son and gave him an ultimatum.
Hugo had to choose whether he wanted to join the clergy, or the army, but either way, if he didn’t choose something, he would lose his allowance and be cast out.
Hugo had been unable to consider living the stuffy lifestyle of clergy and had reluctantly suggested his father buy him a commission. His father accepted his decision without hesitation, but made it clear that he wasn’t done with him yet.
On the day that Hugo had left the house he had called home to start his new life, his father had ordered him into the study, informing him that he had two years to become a man, at which point he would be expected back to join the clergy, find himself a wife and settle down, or he would not receive a single penny in inheritance.
The argument that had ensued had been bitter, with many things said on either side that had scarred deeply.
It was the last time Hugo saw his father, or any of his family. At first, when he had joined the army, he had received letters from his brothers and his mother. But that had stopped when England found itself at war with France, and Hugo had been sent abroad to fight for his country.
The man who had returned, battle-scarred and bitter, had vowed never to marry, or return home. To this day, had never been back to Gloucestershire and his family seat.
Hugo jolted out of his thoughts when heavy thumping at the front door broke the companionable silence in the study. He frowned at Joshua who went to answer the summons.
“It could be one of my patients,” he muttered, disappearing out of the room.
Hugo knew who it was before Simon appeared in the doorway, panting from exertion, his hair in disarray. It was clear that wherever he had been when he had received word of his daughter’s condition, he had rushed to her side as fast as he could.
“How is she? What happened?” he gasped, staring at Hugo and Joshua in turn.
Joshua held his hands up. “She is comfortable at the moment and resting. Come on into the parlour and have a brandy, and we will bring you up to date on what we know.”
Simon, not so easy to appease, turned to stare at Hugo.
“She was poisoned by your apple pie.” Hugo watched carefully as Simon at him in horror.
“My-?”
“Apple pie.” Hugo repeated, his voice hard and merciless.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I am bloody sure! It was the only thing she ate that I didn’t. She said it had a bitter taste and left a strange aftertaste in her mouth. Luckily, she only ate a small bite of it, but it was enough to nearly kill her,” Hugo snapped, his patience wearing thin.
Simon slumped in a chair before the fire, stunned by the news. When he had received word of Harriett’s illness, he had raced as fast as humanly possible to get to her, fear snapping at his heels. The last thing he expected to hear was that he was the cause of her troubles. He could see the truth in Hugo’s unrelenting gaze and knew that he believed what he had said. The apple pie Simon had brought his daughter as a treat had very nearly killed her.
“But who-?” Simon shook his head, frantically running through the people who could have come into contact with the pie before he left the Manor with it. There was a good ten staff who worked in the kitchens and below stairs who could have put something into it. But why?
“That’s what we are going to find out,” Hugo grunted, his eyes cold and hard as they met Simon’s. “I will warn you now, Simon, that I am an agent of His Majesty’s government.” He ignored Joshua’s startled gasp. “Because an attempt has been made on a person’s life, I have a duty to thoroughly investigate and find the person responsible.” Hugo stared hard at Simon. “I will bring the full weight of the law down on the attempted murderer.”
“Good,” Simon snapped, staring defiantly back at him. “See that you do, because I will be right behind you to see the bastard hang.”
“Who had access to the pie?” Hugo demanded when Simon was furnished with a goblet of brandy.
“Practically anyone who has been in the house,” Simon replied, frowning into the fire. “When Cook makes pies, she usually puts them near the window to cool because she uses the main table so much. Anyone working or passing through the kitchens had the opportunity.”
“Harriett said the apple tasted strange. She didn’t say anything about the pastry,” Hugo added.
“So someone could have added something to the apples while they were being prepared?” Joshua frowned.
Hugo lapsed into silence. Harriett had said that she had seen someone lurking at the end of the garden when Mrs Partridge had arrived. If it was his assassin still loitering in the area, that meant that he believed Hugo was at the cottage. Had the assassin followed Simon back to the Manor, and tampered with the box of food somehow knowing it was heading to Harriett’s cottage – and Hugo?
Or was he clutching at straws in the vain hope of diverting his attention from the woman lying in the bed upstairs, who had more of a hold on him than he dared admit?
“Yes, I am afraid so. I shall be asking the staff a lot of questions, believe me,” Simon replied sternly.
“So will I,” Hugo promised, turning his attention to Harriett’s father. “I am going to be investigating this, Simon, as an agent of the Crown. I know Harriett is your daughter, but I cannot allow you to involve yourself in this investigation and tip off someone who is guilty. I will be the one who does the questioning – you need to let me have access to your staff.”
“She is my daughter,” Simon protested. “You cannot expect me to sit back and do nothing!”
It was on the tip of Hugo’s tongue to pointedly reply that the man had done nothing for his daughter for the five and twenty years he had been absent, but wisely he kept his mouth shut.
“I am representing the government and can, and will, bring the culprit to justice,” Hugo argued, determined not to be swayed on gaining justice for Harriett’s pain. “This is attempted murder.”
“Very well, you can ask anyone at the Manor any questions you like whenever you want to. You have my full support, and my assistance, should you require it,” Simon replied, his tone softening only slightly. He could practically feel the menace reverberating from Hugo, and knew he was not a man to be crossed.
“Thank you,” Hugo relented with a brisk nod. Turning to Joshua, he rose from his seat.
“I need to send a message to my men,” Hugo said when he was alone in the corridor with Joshua. “I need one or two of them to come here and help with the investigation. Is there anyone who can send a message to Cambridgeshire?”
“Yes, Jeb can do that for you. I’ll send for him.”
Sure enough, when Joshua opened the door, two or three villagers were lingering outside, chatting quietly. They lurched into action when Joshua motioned for someone to come forward. Within moments, Jeb was racing with the message to summon help.
The following morning, Harriett stretched sleepily, wincing at the dull ache in her stomach. The initial contentment of having a good night’s sleep vanished in an instant as the memory of what had happened dawned on her. She opened her eyes with a frown and stared around the unfamiliar room.
The large bedroom was freshly painted, and positively gleamed. The shutters were partially open, revealing a house directly opposite. The hi
gh ceiling and mullion window were unfamiliar, as were the highly polished wooden dresser and linen press lining the walls. Although it couldn’t be described as plush, it was tastefully decorated and welcoming.
The brass bed she lay in had no curtains around it, but was also highly polished and positively gleaming. She tried to sit up, only to gasp at the soreness in her stomach.
She ran her tongue around her dry lips, thirsty for water, but couldn’t see any jug in the room. The bell pull beside the door hung tantalisingly close, but yet so far away.
Her frown grew as she sat upright, and glanced down at the brushed cotton of her nightgown. It was very pretty, with tiny pink rosebuds over it, and made of lovely thick material that was as soft as rose petals. The only problem was, it wasn’t hers.
Hugo. Where was he?
Moreover, where was she?
“Oh good, you are awake,” Hugo said as he entered, his face lighting at the sight of her sitting, somewhat dishevelled, on the side of the bed. “I hope you are not thinking of going anywhere,” he scowled, shooing her back under the covers.
“I’m thirsty,” Harriett grumbled, eyeing him balefully as she swung her legs back onto the bed as Hugo tucked the sheets back around her.
“Oh, good, you are awake,” Marion said, copying Hugo’s words exactly as she swept through the door carrying a heavily laden tray. “Your man here said he would like to take breakfast with you, so I brought him up something to eat. You must be thirsty, poor mite,” she went on, placing her heavy burden on the table beside the bed and bustling around, easing open the shutters and drawing back the curtains fully to allow the morning sunshine to stream into the room.
“So many people will be glad to know you are up and about, m’dear, and that’s a fact,” she said, covering Harriett with a blanket in a motherly fashion before standing back to assess her work. “I’ll go and tell the doctor you are awake, while you have something to eat and drink. Rest now, you’re in the best place. If you need anything, just ring the bell.” With that she placed a small, brightly polished brass bell at Harriett’s fingertips and bustled out of the door.
