by Rebecca King
CHAPTER SEVEN
Hugo trotted down the main street of the nearby village of Brockington Mallow, his eyes scanning this way and that for any sign of the black carriage that had run over Florrie. Right now he didn’t know if he was searching for a reckless carriage driver or a murderer, or both. He hadn’t even bothered to glance behind him before he had given chase. He had heard Pie’s cry of warning, and knew that Florrie would receive the best of care from his men whatever the outcome had been. Hugo’s main concern was to find the driver of the carriage and discover who he or she was, and why in particular he had chosen to target Florrie.
He was about half a mile out of the village when out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a black carriage standing in the middle of an old stable yard in a disused brewery. Although the brewery had been disbanded some time ago and the out buildings were empty and abandoned, there in the middle of the old yard, was the carriage with the horse still tethered. At first glance there was no sign of the driver, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t lurking somewhere. Drawing on all of his years training, Hugo kept his horse moving at a slow and steady gait. He couldn’t turn around and go back to ask the Star Elite for help. This time he was on his own, and it looked like it was going to be down to him to scour the buildings and try to find the driver.
Every instinct warned Hugo that he was close. He could practically feel eyes boring into the back of his head. He outwardly appeared relaxed and unconcerned about anything as he turned down a side street and dismounted. However, once out of sight of the brewery buildings, he drew his gun and crept quietly around the small row of houses. He doubled back until he appeared at the rear of the brewery yard and stood in silence for several moments, studying the darkened buildings one by one.
It was around nine o’clock that night by the time Simon returned to Crompton. Pie took one look at the annoyance on his friend’s face and knew that nobody had turned up for the money.
“Not a sign of anyone,” Simon sighed, slumping into a chair wearily. He placed his feet on the fender of the hearth and wriggled his toes as he savoured the warmth for several minutes.
He glanced at Florrie and Pie, who were sitting considerably closer to each other than was otherwise correct for mere acquaintances, and mentally sighed that yet another member of the Star Elite seemed to have fallen under a lady’s spell. However, while he was pleased for Jamie and Cecily, and even Archie and Portia, he still had reservations about Florrie, and in particular that dubious aunt of hers. Trouble was brewing there, he was sure of it. They couldn’t lose sight of the body they still had to identify, and the fact that Florrie now appeared to have someone prepared to kill her to ensure she kept her secrets.
“Has anyone heard from Hugo?”
Pie shook his head. “No, nobody has seen him since he headed out of the village. If we don’t hear from him before midnight, Rupert and I will go out and look for him.”
A rather timid knock sounded at the front door. Silence settled over them as they heard the butler’s footsteps as he answered the door. Seconds later, he arrived in the doorway of the study carrying another note.
“For you, ma’am.”
Florrie’s horrified gaze met Pie’s for several moments. She stared at the note as though she was staring down at a viper and made no move to take it off the efficient servant.
Pie was the one who murmured a quiet ‘thank you’ to the butler and relieved him of the note. Without asking Florrie’s permission, he unfolded the parchment:
You missed the payment. Pay by dawn tomorrow or pay the penalty. Leave the money at the church.
Florrie didn’t want to read it but watched anger flood Pie’s face with a sense of dread. She stared at him and waited until his eyes met hers.
“Well?” Simon prompted when Pie lapsed into thoughtful silence.
“He wants his money delivered to the churchyard at dawn.”
Simon swore. “We can’t let her go to the church after what happened today, she is too much at risk.”
“I agree.”
“Hello, I am here, you know,” Florrie snapped somewhat waspishly. “I am sorry to tell either of you, but I am not going to any churchyard ever again, least of all at dawn to pay a debt that I don’t owe. Tabatha can do it.”
Her tone was so determined that Pie smiled ruefully. He couldn’t blame her for her reluctance. The fact that she didn’t want to go made his job considerably easier. At least now he didn’t have to talk her out of placing her life in danger again. “I agree with you, it is too dangerous.”
“Do we ignore it then?” Florrie asked. “Or, do we send Tabatha? I think that it is only right that she should have to admit to her creditor that she was the one who ran up the debts.”
Pie knew that wouldn’t happen. If Tabatha turned up with the money, she could just confirm to the creditor that she was called Florrie. It wasn’t something that Pie was prepared to allow to happen.
“I am not sure. We need to find out what has happened to Hugo first. Then we can make a few decisions as to how we handle this.” He included Florrie in his gaze, purely so she understood that he was now going to be handling the matter on her behalf. The smile of utter relief she gave him warmed him to his very soul and he felt something cold and hard that had surrounded his heart for most of his adult life slowly begin to melt. He had no idea how she managed to twist him around her finger as easily as she did, but he couldn’t find it within him to find one iota of objection. The feelings she created within him were pleasant rather than painful, even if he had no idea where they were going to take him.
Jonathan appeared in the doorway. “We scoured the area.” He cast Florrie a dubious look and lapsed into silence.
He clearly wasn’t prepared to talk in front of her but, as far as Florrie was concerned, this involved her now. She was the one who found the body in the church. She was the one who had nearly been run over by a runaway carriage. She was the one who had been implemented in her aunt’s gambling debts. Although she was extremely grateful for Pie’s willingness to help, and his belief in her, she wasn’t going to just hand everything over to him without knowing what they were planning. She stared defiantly at Jonathan and ignored his raised brows.
“This involves me, and I am not going anywhere until I know what you are planning to do.”
Pie turned toward her and studied her closely. Although the doctor had declared her as fit as a fiddle and confirmed that she had suffered nothing more than a few bruises from her ordeal, Pie would have felt better if she had gone straight to bed to rest for a while. However, the mulish look on her face warned him that she wasn’t going to be persuaded to rest for a while. She had set her mind on being included in their discussion and wasn’t going anywhere until she knew exactly what they were going to do and when.
While Florrie was busy with the doctor, Pie had taken the opportunity to meet with the staff. They had reported that Tabatha had spent the day being a particularly difficult guest to please, and had constantly rung the bell to the point that the butler had threatened to pull it out and choke her with it if she ever rang it again.
It effectively ruled Tabatha out of being the carriage driver. If she had run up debts to the point that she was struggling to repay them, she could not afford the large amount of money she would need to pay someone to attempt to kill Florrie.
Unfortunately, that also meant that Florrie had been targeted for some other reason. If she didn’t owe anyone any money either, and there were no other skeletons lurking in her closet like a maligned lover or anything, she could only have been targeted because she had been the one to find the body in the churchyard.
Was someone trying to silence her because she had seen too much? Or did Florrie know more about the man she ‘found’ than she was letting on?
He didn’t know if it was just wishful thinking, but he struggled to put Florrie into the ‘cold-blooded murderer’ category. She just didn’t seem to fit. Besides, if she had killed the man in the chu
rchyard, the attempt on her life in the village today didn’t make sense. If she had killed her adversary, who was the person driving the carriage?
“I don’t expect you to go and do anything without discussing it with us first. I suppose it is only fair that you are involved in our discussions about your aunt’s debts, but you are not going to be privvy to Star Elite business.”
“Do you think someone tried to run me down because I found the body in the churchyard?” Florrie asked, turning thoughtfully away from the fire to stare at Pie.
“I think that it is a possibility that we cannot ignore.” He sighed deeply and gave her a rather direct stare. “Can you remember anything about that morning; anything at all that you may have forgotten? Did you see anyone else? Hear anything?”
Florrie frowned and stared into the flames. She mentally ran through that morning in as much detail as she could muster, without thinking about the body and the blood, but eventually shook her head.
“I didn’t see anyone or hear anything,” she sighed, glancing at Pie in confusion. “If the attempt on my life today is linked to the body in the churchyard, why hasn’t anyone tried to take your life, or Archie’s? You were both there too.”
“Because I wasn’t the one crossing the road at the time,” he grumbled. “I have no idea. I can’t see why the creditor would want you dead if he wants his money back. After all, it is in his best interests that you meet the repayments because, as a woman, any money you left would go to the males in your family, not your aunt Tabatha.” He turned to Florrie with a scowl. “If you do die, who inherits?”
“My uncle, Silas.”
“He lives in Norfolk, you say?”
Florrie nodded. Horror flooded through her as she caught Pie’s train of thought. “You can’t for one second think that Uncle Silas had anything to do with this! He is busy with his very profitable furniture business. He loves his wife and children and would never consider such a thing,” she gasped, pinning Pie with a rather argumentative look. “I won’t consider him as a possible suspect. Not only does he not need the money, but he isn’t that kind of man. Silas is the gentlest, kindest, sweetest man you could possibly meet.”
“Then why didn’t he take you in when you were orphaned?” Pie countered, unwilling to eliminate anyone from their list of possibilities for the time being.
“He has eleven children of his own.” Florrie watched Pie’s brows shoot upward and he stared at her with something akin to horror.
“Eleven?” Pie gulped.
Florrie nodded. “Although they would have taken me in without a qualm, Silas was trying to establish his business and, at the time, his wife was poorly having had the twins. The birth didn’t go very well and she was bed-bound for a while. It took a long time for her to recover. It was considered best that I go to Uncle Archibald’s house.”
Pie could see no reason for argument there, and lapsed into silence.
“So, we know that Tabatha won’t benefit financially from Florrie’s demise,” Jonathan added around a yawn.
“It points to the fact that she is the target of the murderer who took the life of the man in the church.”
Florrie stared in horror at Simon. He had made the statement so matter-of-factly that she wanted to remind him that this was her life he was cold-bloodedly discussing.
“Why though? I never saw anyone else,” Florrie gasped. Panic began to grow at the thought that someone might actually want her dead. She knew that she had a lucky escape earlier that day but it hadn’t really dawned on her that someone might actually mean to end her life.
“They might think that you did though and, until we can find who they are, that makes you their intended target.” Simon sighed, feeling a little bit sorry for her.
Her gaze flew to Hugo who suddenly appeared in the doorway with a dark scowl on his face.
“Good God, we were just about to come out looking for you,” Simon drawled, rising to pour his colleague a brandy. From the dark glower on Hugo’s face, the news wasn’t good. Although Simon would never admit it, he had started to grow concerned about Hugo’s whereabouts and it was a relief to know his friend was unharmed.
“Did you find anything?” Pie watched Hugo down the brandy in one gulp.
“I found the carriage but it was abandoned. There was no sign of anyone. I checked in the local tavern, but it was full and impossible to locate the driver we didn’t see.” Disgust was evident in Hugo’s harsh tones. He was clearly annoyed at being thwarted.
The battle hardened angles to his face made Florrie shudder and edge a little closer to Pie.
“Where was it?” Pie asked, wondering which village he would have to tear apart with his bare hands if need be.
“Brockingham Mallow,” Hugo snapped, nudging Simon’s feet out of the way so he could move to a chair. “It was in the yard of a disused brewery on the outskirts of the village.” He glanced at Florrie for several moments. His gaze was so piercing that she struggled not to squirm under the intensity of it. “How are you, Florrie? No injuries I hope?”
“More by luck than judgement,” Pie drawled.
“I am fine thank you. I was a little shaken up, but otherwise fine.”
Hugo nodded once and made a mental note of Pie’s apparent protectiveness of her.
While searching Brockingham Mallow, and the old brewery, he had taken the opportunity to think about the problems they were dealing with. He knew it was folly to rely on first impressions of anyone, and had learned a long time ago that his gut feeling was never far from wrong. At that moment, his gut feeling was telling him that Florrie was innocent. He didn’t have the evidence yet to prove it for a fact, but he was certain that she had been telling them the truth when she had claimed that the debts were Tabatha’s. He quickly blanked out the thought that it might be wishful thinking because of the growing attraction between Florrie and Pie. There was something harder and more cynical about the older woman and that made her much more of a likely candidate to want to spend her evenings gambling.
His thoughts turned toward his own wife who was waiting upstairs in bed for him, and he drank his brandy a little bit more quickly. While his own route to the altar had been fraught with danger, he was very glad that he had persevered and found a future with Harriett. His life had changed so much that he couldn’t bear to think where he would have ended up without her. He could only hope that Pie had a future with Florrie if he wanted one, and that she remained alive long enough to get to the altar.
“Someone has been using the brewery buildings as a place to stay. I have left Stephen and Rupert on watch for now,” Hugo sighed and eyed the door longingly.
Pie showed Hugo the note.
“Sorry,” Hugo muttered, shooting Florrie an apologetic glance for the epithet that escaped before he could stop it.
“I am not going,” Florrie declared flatly, determined more than ever that Tabatha should be the one to go.
“I am rather afraid that you are, my dear,” Hugo drawled, his gaze brushing past Pie’s to land apologetically on Florrie. “It is imperative that you go to this meeting.”
“Why?” Florrie felt her stomach flip and stared blankly at him.
“Because we are going to prove to the man who tried to kill you today that he didn’t succeed.”
Pie held up his hand and scowled at Hugo. “You aren’t going to use her as bait.”
“There are enough of us to keep her safe,” Hugo drawled, his tone cold and hard. He had failed today, and the knowledge didn’t sit well with him at all. It was up to him to put matters right.
Florrie was about to object. After all they had done such a good job protecting her earlier in the day that she had actually been run over by a carriage. Their level of protection she could do without, thank you very much.
“I won’t do it,” she declared, her chin tipped defiantly as she glared at each man individually.
“You are going,” Hugo snapped, dropping his glass on the table. “I suggest everyone gets some
sleep. We will head out of here at 3 o’clock in the morning.” He turned and threw pointed glances at Pie and Simon. Turning to Jonathan he scowled down at the note. “It doesn’t say on here where the pouch is to be delivered to, so I assume it has to be on the church doorstep. You, Jonathan are going to be inside the church waiting.”
“Where will you be?” Pie stared at the almost sinister smile that suffused Hugo’s face. “Oh, I will be around.” With that he left the room.
Pie met Simon’s gaze for a moment. Neither of them had seen this side to Hugo before and weren’t sure what to make of it. Was Hugo more in need of a break than they had realised? Or had he got something else up his sleeve? Pie wished he knew but, glancing at Florrie’s indignant expression, was aware that now wasn’t the time to discuss it.
“You heard the man. Get some sleep. Tomorrow you will need to drop the pouch on the church doorstep just before dawn, and then you are free to return to the house.”
“But, I don’t want to do it,” Florrie protested. “Someone tried to kill me today, and could very well have another attempt tomorrow. How could you do this to me?”
Pie sighed. He didn’t want to do it with her but couldn’t go into detail about how the Star Elite worked right there and then. There were only a few hours left before they had to leave. He could only hope that Hugo knew what he was doing because, if he failed, the consequences to Florrie would be deadly.
“I can’t do this, Pie,” Florrie whispered.
“You are going to be perfectly safe,” Pie sighed, taking her shoulders in his. “You heard Hugo. Jonathan is going to be inside the church. I am going to be right behind you. There is nothing to worry about. Everything will be fine, you will see.” He couldn’t bear to think of any alternative ending.
Florrie studied the calm reassurance in his clear green eyes, but she could find no solace there that would ease her fears. The thought of walking through the grounds in the middle of the night by herself filled her with horror, even if she ignored the possibility that the man who might be waiting for her was a potential murderer.
