“Galthwaite,” Merton said, with his slight smile. “I have had some most satisfactory dealings there. Lord Grayson and Mr Terence Grayson have been very helpful, and, with their assistance, the Carters have been given notice to quit Gillingham House. Lord Grayson is to buy the property as soon as the papers can be drawn up. He is also to buy Hexlowe Hall from Lord Carrbridge, and lease it to his friend for a peppercorn rent until his fortunes are restored. The weaving mill also is to be put up for sale. Best of all, the bank manager and attorney have been most obliging. Having been shown the title to these properties, they very readily agreed to make over the balance of the account to Lord Carrbridge. It is but a modest sum, but better in Lord Carrbridge’s pocket than anyone else’s. In all, his lordship will be some fifteen thousand pounds better off as a result.”
“And what of Sharp? Or this Harcourt fellow?” Gus said.
“No sign of either while I was there. No one has heard of Mr Sharp, although when I mentioned the name in Mr Carter’s hearing, it seemed to me that he looked conscious. My guess is that the Carters are relatives of Sharp’s. I can think of no other reason why they would be permitted to live in Gillingham House without the payment of rent.”
“But where is Sharp?” Gus cried. “He has vanished into thin air. And who is this Harcourt?”
Merton set down his brandy glass and steepled his hands. “Do you not think that Harcourt and Sharp must be one and the same?”
“Impossible! Harcourt is a very finely-dressed man, an exceedingly well-set-up gentleman with an excellent horse, and accompanied always by a pair of grooms. Whereas if Sharp wears a single item of clothing made in the last twenty years, I should be astonished to hear it. And that old tricorn hat! No, it cannot be!”
Merton smiled and raised an eyebrow. “I asked several people in Galthwaite for a description of Harcourt. He is some sixty years old, his back a little bent but otherwise in good health. He has greying red hair, which he wears in a queue. Does this sound familiar?”
“Oh. That does indeed sound like Sharp. But the clothes!”
“A man who wishes to present a certain appearance to the world may choose to wear one set of clothes, and when he wishes to present a different appearance he will wear another set. It always seemed to me that Sharp’s choice of attire at Drummoor was rather contrived. What man of business, after all, faces the world wearing clothes from twenty or more years ago? No agent would be taken seriously in such garb.”
“So he wears old clothes at Drummoor, and elsewhere dresses like a rich man? But why?”
“Now that is an interesting question,” Merton said, his eyes gleaming. He leaned forward. “One can only speculate, of course, but consider what we already know. The man is absent from Drummoor a great deal — far more than is necessary for an agent. There are properties scattered all over the country which the eighth marquess won at cards or dice or wagering how high a frog would jump.”
“Truly? A frog?”
“Indeed. There is a very pretty little dower house a few miles north of York which changed hands on just such a wager. The nobility marches to a different drum from the common folk, that much is certain. Your father and his cronies would bet on any event, and lay any wager on it. It was not all estates, for horses changed hands, too, and a coat or two. A valet, once. Oh, and a girl on one occasion, but I cannot at all find out who it was or what became of her.”
“A girl!” Gus exclaimed.
“Drake’s daughter, according to letters sent to your father, but who Drake was I cannot tell. They all had nicknames — Hawk, Foxy, Wolf, Boar, Rat. Your father was Hawk.”
“The nose, I suppose. What a wild crowd they must have been. I feel very tame by comparison.”
Merton smiled. “There is nothing wrong with living one’s life prudently, and with regard for the future of the family. Not all of those men grew out of their wild years with their fortunes intact, I imagine. Your father was lucky, or clever, perhaps. But to return to Sharp, the interesting aspect is that all these properties that your father won were not regarded as part of his estate. More than once, his letters of the time talk of his ownership as a guardianship, so that he would look after them until such time as the original owners could recover them. The titles were not kept with the lawyers in London, or in the Drummoor safe, but were given to Sharp to look after separately. And only some of them were mentioned in the accounts and other records. It was not until we retrieved all Sharp’s papers from his cottage that we learnt about the Galthwaite properties, for instance.”
“So Sharp kept those to himself.”
“Exactly so.”
“And you have a theory as to why?”
“Clearly he has been managing all the properties to his own benefit — pocketing the rents, and allowing his disreputable relations to live rent-free in empty houses. He kept Lord Carrbridge supplied with funds, and found extra when he was asked for it, but otherwise he held onto every penny, and has been amusing himself by living like a lord on the proceeds.”
“But not at Drummoor,” Gus said.
“No, his domain is clearly to the north. But we are closing in on him. I am convinced that Harcourt and Sharp are two sides of the same man, and if we find one we find the other. And the bank manager has given me an address for Harcourt, at a place called Churlswade. It is, so I am told, half way between Galthwaite and York, and a very convenient location for a man to change his appearance when travelling between the north and the south.”
“Ah! How soon can we go there?”
Merton smiled. “I had hoped you would be able to accompany me. If my horse is rested sufficiently, we can go tomorrow. A day each way and a day at Churlswade should do it.”
~~~~~
Gus was up and dressed not long after dawn the next morning, and striding into town. The shop he wanted was not open, but he roused the shopkeeper by banging loudly on the door, and shouting at the upper windows until a bleary-eyed woman opened a window.
“We’re not open! Go away!” She closed the window firmly. He banged and shouted even more loudly until the window flew open again. “We’re not open, are you deaf? Come back in an hour.”
“I shall pay you very well to open early.” Gus rattled his purse of coins at her.
She paused, and then, perhaps noticing his expensive clothing, grunted. “Ten minutes.”
It was a little more than that, but eventually a rattling of keys and grating of bolts heralding the opening of the door, and Gus was admitted to the rather dishevelled presence of the shopkeeper.
“I am greatly obliged to you,” Gus said. “Business takes me out of town, and I cannot leave my young friend without some recompense for the loss of my company. I should like to buy some more of your excellent tin soldiers, and I shall pay twice the usual price, by way of apology for dragging you from your warm bed at so unreasonable an hour.”
The man’s face brightened. “Ah, of course. I remember you now, sir. Here we are, sir, here we are. My entire supply, for the moment, although I can get more in a few days. What was it you’d be wanting, sir? Infantry? Cavalry? Some archers? Or pikemen?”
“How much would you want for all of them?”
The man trembled so violently that Gus feared he might fall over. He suggested a price, Gus agreed to it without demur and within minutes the transaction was complete. Gus left, a neat parcel under his arm, and wondered if the harridan at the window might be getting a new bonnet soon, or perhaps, if he had overpaid by a wide margin, a small piece of jewellery. Or would it be put to buying beef for the table, or a chaldron of coals, or new boots for the children? He had no idea what it was like to live on a small income, and have to weigh the burning of every candle, and perhaps not drink tea at all. Was that what Mrs Walsh’s life was like? She had her own chickens and vegetables, and no doubt the castle supplied meat and game, but there must be a great need for economy. Yet there was no sign of it, and he supposed she must be a good manager.
Back in his parlour,
Gus sent for more brown paper and string, and divided the soldiers into three separate parcels. Then he sat down with paper and ink.
‘Dear Ned, Family business which I cannot shirk takes me away for three days. As soon as I return, I will come to see you again. In the meantime, I am sending some reinforcements for your troops. I hope you like them. Your very good friend, Gus.’
Folding and sealing the paper, he wrote on it, ‘Master E. Walsh’.
With a second sheet, he wrote, ‘Bedford, Pray see that one parcel and the letter are delivered to the north lodge today, a second parcel tomorrow and the third the day after. Augustus Marford.’
Then, smiling to himself, he made his way to the stables, where Willett and one of the Carson brothers awaited him. They collected Merton and his groom from the Dunmorton Arms, and headed south.
15: The Kings Arms
Merton was pleasant company on the road. He was not amusing, in the way that Edgerton was, but he was a thoughtful, educated man, and not a chatterer, and Gus was grateful for that. Since he was not a chatterer himself, there were long stretches when neither man spoke. Behind them, the murmured voices of the two grooms could be heard, with Willett occasionally joining in, but Gus watched the scenery and thought his own thoughts and enjoyed the restful silence of his companion.
They reached Churlswade in plenty of time for Gus to investigate both the inns and determine which of them best met his requirements for the care of Jupiter. He was not entirely satisfied with either, but eventually, after a long discussion with the head ostler and the transfer of silver, he selected the Kings Arms to receive his patronage. Merton, amused but uncomplaining, waited until this process was complete before dismounting.
“If this place is good enough for Jupiter, I daresay it will be adequate for Richmond Lad,” he murmured, handing the reins to his groom. “Am I correct in supposing that the provision for humans is of lesser importance in your decision?”
Gus laughed. “You think me over-fastidious, I daresay, but a single inadequate night may render a horse of Jupiter’s temperament unrideable for days. It is for my own comfort that I attend to his. Besides, I can eat anything and sleep anywhere, and I am sure you are the same, Merton.”
“Indeed I can, but I had very much rather not, if there is any choice to be had in the matter.”
But once a parlour had been bespoken, the bed chambers examined and a promise of hot water sufficient for baths extracted from the innkeeper, Merton relaxed in a wing chair and stretched booted feet to the fire.
“Ah, this is better! I was a little concerned that we might have to sleep on bare boards or eat dry bread. It would have been a noble sacrifice, to be sure, in the aid of your magnificent horse, but still I am devoutly thankful not to be called upon to make it. I confess to liking my comforts just as much as Jupiter.”
Gus laughed at him and shook his head. “What are humans but parasites upon the face of the earth in comparison to God’s most perfect creation, the horse?”
“No horse is perfect, in my opinion, but if mine will carry me where I wish to go, and not try to kill me while he is about it, I shall be satisfied with that. And at the end of a day’s riding, I like to be able to hand him over to someone else and not think about him at all for twelve hours or more.”
“You have no soul, Merton. Shall you hunt this year?”
“Lord Carrbridge has offered to mount me, and I am to accompany him to Melton, so perhaps… but it is not yet a year since my friend, Sir Osborne Hardy, died and I am not minded for selfish pleasures.”
“Only comfortable beds and good food, eh?”
Merton smiled. “A man must eat and sleep, so why not the best provision of each? Ah, our baths must be ready,” he added, as a maid bobbed a curtsy at the door.
As they followed her up the stairs to their rooms, Gus found himself wondering rather about Merton, who so liked the best of everything yet paid for nothing himself. A parasite, perhaps, but a likable one, and very clever at what he did.
After bathing and changing into fresh linen, followed by a dinner that met even Daniel Merton’s exacting standards, the two men settled down with a bottle of brandy. The parlour was not over-large, but since Willett and the grooms were in the taproom, it was adequate. There was a good fire, with a comfortable chair either side of it, and Gus could not be displeased with the company. After checking that Jupiter was contented, he settled down to while away the evening with brandy and conversation.
Gus had never had a great deal to do with Merton before, but now he was mellow enough to say, “Do you enjoy your work as a secretary, Merton?”
“I do, rather,” he said, with that secretive smile that always made Gus wonder what he was thinking beneath the suave exterior. “I enjoy having a desk, and papers to peruse, and money to deal with, preferably someone else’s and a great deal of it. There is something very satisfactory in dealing with thousands of pounds at once, which I could never aspire to in the regular way. And of course I enjoy living at Drummoor, for having the Marquess of Carrbridge as my employer increases my consequence enormously.”
Gus laughed, taking this as a joke, although one never quite knew with Merton. “Still, it is a dull business, dealing with all the correspondence that a lazy aristocrat like my brother cannot be bothered to do for himself.”
“The marquess is too important a man to worry about every little boundary dispute or leaky roof that troubles his tenant farmers,” Merton said. “I consider myself as relieving the burden of a man who has weightier matters on his mind, matters which are of the utmost importance to the nation. His lordship has great responsibilities as a peer of the realm.”
Gus tried to reconcile this image of a great man with his gentle brother, and failed. “In any event, I am glad Carrbridge has someone like you to help him. He has needed another secretary for a long time.”
“Ah, yes,” Merton murmured. “The mythical Mr Penicuik, who was struck by some tragic accident shortly after his appointment.”
“It was tragic,” Gus said “Especially the pig…”
“A pig? Oh, pray enlighten me.”
But Gus shuddered. “We never speak of it, for it was too horrible for words. Poor Mr Penicuik! But that is all history. He was an adequate chaplain, but never very much of a secretary. It was a kindness to employ him. Whereas you are a gentleman.”
Merton sighed, then went on, with his slight smile, “What else should I be doing? As the youngest of five sons, and with no great wealth in the family, there must always have been the necessity to earn my bread, one way or another. My place with Lord Carrbridge gives me greater freedom than I had with Sir Osborne Hardy, to whom I was friend and confidante as well as secretary. It would never have been possible for me to set up my own establishment at Brinford Manor as I have done at Drummoor.”
“You have that house arranged very tidily,” Gus said. “Mind you, it is a rambling sort of place for a single man.”
Merton smiled again, replenishing their brandy glasses. “True, but perhaps I shall marry one day, and then it will be just the right size. But that reminds me — I am charged by Lady Carrbridge with finding out everything I may about a certain widow, for you have not been very forthcoming, she tells me. Or not forthcoming enough for her liking, perhaps.”
Gus laughed, rather self-consciously. “Dear Connie! How she loves a romance, however unpromising! But there is not much to tell that she does not already know. Mrs Walsh lives very quietly with her son and three servants on the Castle Morton grounds.”
“Oh, a son? But that would not weigh with you, I daresay — raising another man’s child?”
“No, indeed, for the boy is delightful, and the more so because he has made me into some sort of hero in his mind. Jupiter nearly ran him down one day, and because I carried the child back to his mother, I am idolised. It is very gratifying, I must tell you.”
“I can imagine. But she has no other woman living with her? No sister or cousin? No male relation to offer her
protection? How does she travel about?”
Gus laughed at that. “She goes nowhere, except to church on Sundays. She lives very secluded, keeping no horses or carriage, visiting no one and receiving no callers.”
“Interesting. Then presumably the duke’s patronage is protection enough?”
“No one would dare to cross him, that much is certain. He is a powerful figure in the county.”
“Oh, certainly. Well, I will not tease you about the lady. You must be the best judge of your own happiness, and so Lord Carrbridge thinks, also. He has given me the pleasant task of informing you that, now that Lord Reginald and Lord Humphrey are established independently, there is enough money in the family coffers to increase your allowance sufficiently to encompass a wife. If matters should reach that point.”
A surge of joy swept through Gus, and so agitated was he, that he jumped to his feet and paced up and down the room once or twice. “And Carrbridge would do this for me? Without knowing anything about the lady?”
“I believe it is Lady Carrbridge who so devoutly desires your happiness, and naturally Lord Carrbridge—”
“—devoutly desires Lady Carrbridge’s happiness,” Gus said, laughing. “He will do anything to please her. In this case, I am to be the joyful beneficiary of her romantic inclinations. How generous of Carrbridge! The practicalities of managing on a very small income had begun to prey on my mind of late, but this is beyond anything. I hardly know what to say. He is the best of brothers — and Connie is the best of sisters-in-law! Now there is nothing standing in my way.”
“You will still need to consider your expenses with the greatest care,” Merton said. “Lord Carrbridge mentioned the sum of one thousand pounds a year, but that is still not a great amount. I have no doubt he will house you, and continue to supply you with horses, but you will have the expense of feeding and stabling, grooms and farriers, and so forth. You will have to be very careful. Does the lady have any money herself?”
“I… do you know, I have no idea.”
Lord Augustus Page 13
