by Issy Brookw
As Stanley crept closer, Ruby kept her hands up and her attention now fixed on Lloyd’s jutting elbow.
Stanley watched Ruby for a signal.
Cordelia realised that her own silence would give them away. She stirred herself, and forced herself to look at Lloyd, not the two would-be attackers now just a few feet from him. “You can’t believe that I did not fall for your flatteries! Tell me, does anyone? I should wager that they do not.”
It was enough to rile Lloyd up again. As he opened his mouth to call back, Ruby dropped her left hand and it was the sign for Stanley to lunge for Lloyd’s legs.
Stanley kicked out sideways, viciously, first at Lloyd’s left leg just behind the knee. At the same time, Ruby grabbed onto Lloyd’s arm with both her hands and hauled backwards, using her full weight and the powerful element of surprise.
Geraint then dropped down, rather than forwards, and escaped the loosened grip, and spun around immediately to throw his full weight onto Lloyd as he sank to the floor.
There was a flurry of limbs and shouts and a flash of the silver blade.
Then Geoffrey let off the shotgun and the retort echoed from hill to hill, and all three of them watching began to run down towards the melee below.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Cordelia hadn’t registered how late it had got until she found herself stumbling as she tried to keep pace with Geoffrey and Constable Evans, missing her footing in the fading light. There was a pale moon rising now, and the sky was a dark grey. She was tired and hungry, and it was also getting cold. Adrenaline could only take her so far.
But it had to take her a little bit further, yet.
By the time she got to the road at the bottom, Constable Evans had got Lloyd into a thick pair of d-shaped black metal handcuffs. He was twitching and fighting and spitting, and Geoffrey stepped in front of Cordelia to stop her approaching. “Behave or I’ll beat the bad out of you,” Geoffrey growled.
“In front of these policemen?” Lloyd said.
“No,” said Constable Evans. “We’ll turn away and see not a thing. Come on, Geraint, Geoffrey; let’s get him up onto the cart, now.”
While the three strong men hauled the protesting barber onto the back of the cart, Cordelia turned to Ruby and Stanley. Both were looking flushed, and strangely pleased with themselves.
“Are you hurt, either of you?” she asked.
“No, my lady, not at all,” Ruby said. “So, what did you think to my plan?”
“Our plan,” Stanley said, and there was a moment of stunned silence.
Stanley had never corrected Ruby before.
But she took it with good grace, and said, “Well, yes, it was a good piece of work between the two of us. My lady?”
Cordelia was still struggling to process what had just transpired between her two servants. With an effort, she said, “You know, I am very proud of both of you. Well done.”
The horse was a strong one, and almost fully rested now. It was time to get the prisoner back to Aberystwyth. Geoffrey reloaded, and handed the shotgun to Geraint, who sat opposite Lloyd and kept it trained on him. At this distance, there would be little left of Lloyd if Geraint had to use it; assuming the recoil didn’t tumble the petty constable backwards off the cart. Constable Evans took up his place next to the prisoner. Stanley climbed up and helped Ruby and Cordelia into the cart, too.
They began a slow journey back to the town. The moon had disappeared behind clouds, which helped to keep the night brighter than it would have been otherwise, and by keeping a careful pace, Geoffrey was able to stick to the track pretty well. There were no lamps on the cart, and they had no means of lighting anything, or they could have sent Stanley ahead to find the way and warn other road users of their presence. As it was, they were reliant on all their other senses, and it was a strain indeed.
They fell silent but Cordelia, in spite of her aching bones and gritty-feeling eyes, felt a curious energy sparking through her body. Possibly, after two nights of adventure — first the break-in at the sanatorium and now this — she had gone right past “exhausted” and was entering some new state of being. Hallucinations would be next, no doubt. To cling to her sanity, she tried to engage Caradog Lloyd in conversation.
“We know that you put the poison into the sugar,” she said.
Lloyd raised his head. She could see a dark silhouette and the paler glint of his eyes, but she could not make out his facial expression. He didn’t reply.
So she went on. “Tell me why.”
His shoulders rose and fell.
Come on, she thought. This is supposed to be where you come out with your grand confession. “The ladies were part of the Ceffyl Pren, weren’t they?”
She got a small reaction to that. “Ceffyl Pren,” he said. “Try and say it correctly.”
She was sure that she had. She didn’t try to say it again, though. She said, “They tied you to a ladder and shamed you in the village, didn’t they?”
He snorted. “It was the only time I saw them dressed as real women,” he said.
For some reason, that amused her. She smiled, knowing that no one would see. “Yet you brought that justice, such as it was, on yourself.”
“I did not! I was guilty of nothing, then, nothing more than a little light flirtation, as any man might. What man here has not done such a thing?”
“Not I,” said Stanley immediately.
“Oh, well, you’re a pale and watery sort of—”
Suddenly the cart juddered to a stop, and Geoffrey got off the rough driver’s bench. He shoved his way into the main part of the cart, and said to Stanley, “Boy, it’s your turn to drive.”
Stanley swapped places with the coachman. Geoffrey took up position next to Geraint, and stretched out his long legs, directly into Lloyd’s space. Lloyd had to move his feet.
“I think you will find that these men are honourable,” Cordelia said. It was lucky that it was dark, because she knew that Ruby would be grinning at that, and Geoffrey would want to clout her about the head for it.
“Oh, yes, everyone is so very, very honourable,” Lloyd spat out. “You, and those women, and the whole council of Aberystwyth. No, you’re a nest of snakes, and you all deserve poison. I should have done it right. And those women should have just been the start of it.”
“You are so very consumed by hate,” Cordelia said, and she felt as if she were now examining a specimen in a jar, like something one would find in a cabinet of curiosities. “You wronged some women, and you paid for it, and then you came here to start a new venture. I commend you for the desire to begin anew.” She thought of Ruby, and felt a little ill. “Yet why, then, did you ruin all your prospects by seeking to poison the ladies? It was all in the past. Why did you not let it lie? You had a shop and an apprentice.”
“Oh, you silly mare. Nothing is ever in the past here. The past is all there is.”
“That’s not true. Maybe it was, once, but I can see that the town is growing and improving and soon there will be a railway here, and who knows what other delights and attractions?”
Constable Evans agreed. “We get more and more pleasure-seekers here, every year! And we can do without the likes of you holding us back.”
Lloyd was growing more belligerent and shifting about in his seat. She could hear a sneer in his voice when he said, “Well, you’re just in the council’s pockets, yourself, aren’t you? I’m struggling to understand why you’re here, and especially why you’re here with this sorry band of folk. After all, the coroner himself ruled it was all accident, did he not?” Now snide filled his words. “Oh, aha! I think I see some problems here. You’re not supposed to be investigating at all, are you? Yet you cannot let it lie. I suppose you had your eye on those ladies. You’re a married man, are you not? How does your wife feel about all this?”
“Stop this,” Cordelia ordered. “This demeans you.”
“How can a man accused of murder sink any lower?” Lloyd said. “Anyway, I am only saying what
I see. I make no insinuations. I am only pointing things out. And here is something else that I am observing … Lady Cornbrook, what a peculiar business you seem to be engaged in. What prompts you to involve yourself in such sordid affairs? And running around at night with your servants? Though that one is a big, strong man. It is as I suggested before. I suppose that he—”
And then Geoffrey leaned forward, half-stood up in the rocking cart, and punched Lloyd on the firmly side of the jaw.
He slumped sideways, unconscious.
They rolled on into Aberystwyth in blissful silence.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Well now, my dear,” said Mrs Jones, the next morning. “Haven’t you got the town all talking!”
Cordelia eased herself onto a wooden chair in the inn’s private dining room. The long mahogany table was set for one: just herself. It was rather late for a breakfast, but she had slept deeply. Ruby, too, did not wake until the sun was high in the sky. She blearily helped Cordelia to dress, and then asked if she would receive breakfast in her room. Cordelia said yes, but Ruby returned a few moments later and informed her that Cordelia was actually expected in the dining room.
It was a transparent ploy by Mrs Jones to wheedle all the gossip out of Cordelia, of course. She took her time bringing in more food than Cordelia could possibly ever want, setting out warmed silver dishes of kedgeree and eggs. There was a fancy tea service and a rack of toast, soft fresh breakfast rolls piled in a basket under some cloth, and a small earthenware pot of anchovy paste, the smell of which Cordelia simply could not stomach. She politely edged it away from her.
“And what is the town saying, Mrs Jones? These kidneys are delightful, by the way.”
“Thank you. Well, they say that you worked out who the murderer was, and persuaded Frank the Bludgeon to pursue him, and that you knew exactly where to go, and that you were there, right at the end, with a shotgun!” Mrs Jones’s eyes were wide. “Is this true? Would you like some sugar in your tea?”
“No, and no,” Cordelia said with a laugh. “In truth it was Constable Evans himself who persuaded me of the need to investigate. And it was my coachman who had the shotgun, not I. Oh, Mrs Jones, take a seat. I shall tell you all.”
Mrs Jones had sat down before Cordelia had even finished her sentence, and she leaned forward eagerly.
Cordelia buttered a still-warm roll, and explained everything.
***
Cordelia met her staff in the corridor outside the dining room. Geoffrey looked as if he’d been roaming over mountains all night, which was how he always looked. Stanley had dark circles under his eyes. He tended to a delicate constitution and Cordelia thought he probably needed a holiday from all the recent events. Ruby was pale, and downcast.
“My lady,” said Geoffrey chirpily. “You’re the news all over town!”
“So I hear,” she said. “Will I be mobbed if I step out into the street?”
“No,” said Geoffrey and at first she assumed he was offering to protect her violently. Then he said, “For all the crowds are currently outside the emergency council meeting that is being held. The people know that the council did not want to investigate, you see. The constable, and yourself, are being celebrated as heroes.”
“Goodness! We are?”
“Indeed so. This would be a good chance for us to pack and leave,” Geoffrey said. “While they are all engaged, we can begin our journey home.”
Cordelia did not reply.
Her servants shuffled their feet.
Ruby said, “Um, my lady, we are going home, are we not?”
“Of course we are. But, Ruby … are you coming with us?”
Ruby bit her lip. “This morning, my lady, when I helped you to dress, I thought that meant I was your lady’s maid once more…”
“Of course, of course.”
“You should make her beg for it,” Geoffrey said.
Cordelia turned a look of such venom on her coachman that he had to hang his head. He mumbled something. She hoped it was an apology not a curse, but she decided not to ask him to repeat himself.
“Yes,” she said, decisively. “We will begin to make our way home, this very afternoon. I know we won’t get far. Stanley, will you go on ahead and find us some accommodation around Ponter … Ponty… the place we stopped on the way here?”
“Ponterwyd? Yes, my lady,” said Stanley. It was only about twelve miles away but would set them up for a long journey on the following day. There would be some tedious coach travel before they could get to the railway.
“Ruby,” Cordelia said, turning to her unhappy maid. “Please go and pack my things.”
“At once, my lady.”
Geoffrey was digging around in the back of his mouth. He pulled his finger out when Cordelia looked at him, and tried to surreptitiously wipe the remnants on his trousers. “Geoffrey, I need you to come with me.”
“Where?”
“The council meeting, of course.” Her anger had been rising day on day since she’d arrived, every time she’d heard of a new injustice perpetrated by the protected elite. “I am going to give them all a piece of my mind.”
***
The Guild Hall stood at the top of Great Darkgate Street where it met Pier Street, and she had been told that if the council was not in the hall, then she could find them in the Lion Hotel opposite.
As they approached the hall, they saw that the crowds were gathered around the door, though with little menace. They were simply curious as to what was going on. Geoffrey put a brash arm around Cordelia’s shoulder and used his other arm to firmly bat people out of the way. They would turn, startled, and then see who it was, and fall back with smiles on their faces.
He shoved at a tall man who turned around with a muttered curse, and she recognised Twm Sion Cati. “Ahh, Cordelia,” he said, and she couldn’t help but smile at his persistent informality. “The heroine of the moment. Are you here to receive an award?”
“Oh, no,” she said. “I am here to do the awarding…”
Women were not allowed into the Guild Hall meeting room, but she swept her way in, anyway. Geoffrey was still at her side, and he growled at the steward who protested.
The steward melted away.
There were about a dozen men, all dark-jacketed and top-hatted, sitting around the long table. She had never been in such a situation herself before, but they looked exactly like every painting of every committee meeting she had ever seen. Formal clothes, whiskers, and an air of solid history about them.
It smelled of wood polish; wax and linseed, and warm cigar smoke.
And it went utterly silent.
She summoned every inch of poise. She remembered how her old governess used to walk, and channelled that as she strode to the head of the table, smacking her heels to the floor with sharp clicks.
She then spent a long minute looking at each man in the eye, in slow and deliberate turn. There was the coroner, looking embarrassed. There was Gareth Mogg, and Leopold Scott, and Davies the Scavenger. There was a man with chains of office about his shoulders, who she took to be the Mayor. Constable Evans was there, looking uncomfortable, as he was not usually part of the proceedings. She assumed he was to give an account of himself. She didn’t recognise the other men. They all looked well-fed, worthy and slightly concerned.
She had rehearsed her opening line in her head all the way to the meeting. She hadn’t, however, managed to think much beyond it. It had ended up circling around her mind as a repeated refrain.
“Gentlemen! I am here to tell you that it is time to get your house into order.”
There was a low muttering and shifting. The men looked sideways at one another, and grumbled. No one challenged her directly.
They want me to tell them how, she realised. They are totally stuck.
How would Miss Ball have done this? She would have knocked them down, and then built them up again. Cordelia drew in a deep breath, and began to extemporise.
“Your old-fashioned inw
ard-looking selfishness has caused you to turn a blind eye to the crimes of your own members. Yes, crimes! You might paint these things as perks of the job, but the people of the town are waking up to your injustices.”
This was already rattling them. She pressed on. “And while you might think that these things do not matter … you are wrong. And now, you know you have been wrong. As does the town. Your town! A woman is dead, and another ill and forced to flee. Why? Because you all sought to protect your own interests.”
“Now, then!” cried one man. “Steady there. The death of Miss Walker was none of our doing, nor even was it at the hand of one of us. You cannot lay the blame there. We did, perhaps, fail to investigate as fully as we ought to have done…”
“Fail to investigate? Why, sir, you all actively blocked the investigation! Only Constable Evan’s moral courage has brought this matter to a conclusion. He knew what he risked in pursing this, and yet he did! He is a true hero and son of this town.”
“But none of us actually killed her—”
“By cleaving to the older ways, you set in place a situation in which she could be killed,” Cordelia said. In truth she was not entirely convinced of this part of her argument so she glossed over it and began to move on quickly. “However! What is important is that things now change.”
“We have begun to change,” the challenging man said. “Already we have decided to clamp down further on the Ceffyl Pren and other backwards examples of mob justice.”
“That is not at all what needs to change!” she exclaimed. “Actually, yes, it does … but there is more.” She pointed a finger at Gareth Mogg who seemed to sink slightly in his chair. “Mr Mogg! Do you deny that you adulterate your cheaper wine?”
“No, that is, yes, I mean, I may have added some improvers…”
“You put sugar of lead in your wine, and you should not!”
“Of course. Yes. No. I have ceased.” He stopped arguing.
She turned her attention to Leopold Scott. “And, you, sir!”
He immediately held his hands in the air. “I have pledged to aid my sister and I shall hold to that. Miss Scott is safely at a cousin’s house now, and I have sent more money. She will never want for anything.”
