Tucker's Inn

by Tucker's Inn (retail) (epub)

‘Antoinette!’ I said again, foolishly, since it was quite clear she was not there.

  And then I felt a cold draught, saw the drapes rippling, and realized the window was open. Wide open.

  My heart leaped with alarm. Antoinette had gone out by the same way that John the gamekeeper’s boy had come to visit her, presumably because she had thought she might be intercepted if she used the stairs and the door in the usual way. But that creeper had been badly weakened when it had given way under John’s weight. Would it have supported her? Or was she now lying injured or even dead on the path beneath?

  My anxious feet flew me to the window. I was almost afraid to look out for fear of what I might see. But to my immense relief the creeper appeared more or less intact, and I could see no bundle below the window.

  My relief was short-lived, however. Where had Antoinette gone? Was it possible she had decided to ride over to Monksmoor in search of her foal? Oh surely not – at this time of night! But she was so obsessed by it, and so desperately afraid she would never see it again.

  Anxiety knotted my stomach. She shouldn’t be out alone in the dark at all, and certainly not on the lonely road to Monksmoor. There were all manner of dangers, and in any case, by the time she reached the village everyone would be in their beds and fast asleep – everyone but villains and drunks.

  Well, wherever she had gone, this was not something I could deal with alone. Little as I wanted to face Gavin again so soon, I had to enlist his help.

  I found him in the parlour, a glass of cognac in his hand.

  ‘So – you’ve decided my offer is worth the taking after all, Flora?’ he said in an amused drawl when he saw me in the doorway.

  ‘Certainly not,’ I returned shortly. ‘I thought you should know your niece is not in her rooms, and I think she’s escaped by way of the window.’

  Whatever he had expected, it certainly was not this.

  ‘Escaped by way of the window? What can you mean?’

  ‘There’s a creeper outside that I know for a fact is negotiable,’ I said. ‘Her friend the gamekeeper’s boy was using it to visit her until her father and his own twisted ankle put a stop to it. Now I think she has gone out the same way so that we would not be aware she was missing, and it wouldn’t surprise me if she hasn’t gone off to Monksmoor in search of the foal she is so set upon.’

  ‘The devil she has! At this time of night!’

  ‘She’s headstrong enough. I may be wrong, of course, but wherever she is, we have to find her, Gavin, before some serious harm befalls her.’

  To give Gavin his due, he reacted with commendable speed, and if he had been a little drunk on Louis’ brandy, he was instantly stone-cold sober.

  ‘We’ll see if her horse is in the stables,’ he said. ‘If she is gone, I’ll ride after her. If not, we’ll search closer to home.’ He strode out.

  ‘I’ll fetch a wrap and be with you in a moment,’ I said.

  I ran upstairs to collect my wrap, and hurried out to the stables. As I crossed the yard I heard Gavin’s raised voice coming from within and breathed a sigh of relief. He must have caught her in time.

  My relief was short-lived, however, for suddenly the most terrible commotion broke out – the frenzied barking of a dog, Gavin shouting again, Antoinette screaming, the splinter of shattering wood, the frightened whinnying of the horses. I ran to the stable door, which stood ajar, then stopped short, horrified at the scene the moonlight illuminated for me.

  Antoinette cowered, sobbing in a corner, whilst Gavin bent over what looked like a bundle against the broken-down door of one of the stalls. Before my very eyes he hauled the bundle to its feet, and in the fleeting moment before his fist cracked once more into the bloodied jaw, I saw that it was John, the gamekeeper’s lad. The boy went down again, staggering backwards along the passage between the loose boxes before collapsing into a heap of straw, and Gavin followed, kicking viciously at the defenceless body.

  ‘Gavin!’ I cried, shocked by the violence of his attack. ‘What are you doing? Stop!’

  I grabbed his sleeve, and he shook me off as if I were no more than a troublesome fly, going once more for the boy who lay in the straw trying to cover his head with his arms.

  ‘Little bastard! I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget! How dare you lay a finger on my niece?’ Each phrase was punctuated by a fresh blow.

  ‘Gavin, you’ll kill him!’ I screamed. ‘Stop it at once! Do you hear? Stop it!’

  ‘Keep out of this, Flora!’ he shot at me. He dragged the boy to his feet again and the expression on his face was pure savagery as his fist shot into the already bloodied face, sending the boy reeling back into the heavy wooden post which connected two of the loose boxes. Again the boy’s legs gave way beneath him; as he sagged into a heap against the post, Gavin’s boot went into him with a soft, sickening thud.

  ‘Antoinette – go for Thompson!’ I cried. ‘Quickly – go now!’ She did not move. She was, I think, frozen by shock and fear. And in any case, it occurred to me that by the time she had roused the coachman and brought him here it might well be too late. I looked around wildly – and my eye fell on a pitchfork lying against the wall and gleaming dully in the moonlight. I grabbed it, pointing the prongs towards Gavin.

  ‘Gavin – stop, or I’ll…’

  I do not know exactly what I was threatening; the pitchfork was so heavy I could scarcely hold it horizontal, let alone drive the prongs into Gavin, even if I could have brought myself to do such a thing. And he could so easily have snatched it from my grasp and either turned it on me or used it on the hapless John. But by some miracle the simple sight of me there brandishing the thing was enough to bring Gavin to his senses; either that or the worst of his fury had spent itself without my intervention. With a disdainful glance at me, he dragged John to the stable door and threw him outside.

  ‘Get out of here!’ he grated. ‘Get back to your hovel. And if I ever catch you around here again, I swear I’ll have you horsewhipped from here to Plymouth!’

  He turned, catching the terrified Antoinette by the arm and jerking her forward so violently that she cried out in pain. ‘As for you, Miss – into the house. Now!’

  For a moment she hesitated, still seemingly frozen by fear, then, without another word, she fled.

  ‘Put that thing down, Flora,’ Gavin ordered me.

  I lowered the pitchfork, unwilling to let it go even though the worst of it seemed to be over.

  ‘How could you, Gavin?’ I demanded. ‘How could you beat a young boy senseless?’

  ‘He’s no business here, and deserved everything he got. He was trespassing to be with Antoinette. Do you think your precious Louis would have done any different?’

  I could not answer that. Very likely, I thought, he would not. But I hoped he would have known when to stop, and I was certain he would have taken less sadistic pleasure in it.

  My thoughts went to the boy, badly hurt no doubt, and thrown bodily out of the stable.

  ‘He’ll need attention,’ I said tersely.

  ‘He’ll not get it from me.’

  ‘You would prefer him to be found dead of his injuries and the cold in the woods tomorrow morning?’ I demanded. ‘If you won’t tend him, Gavin, I will.’

  I threw down the pitchfork and went outside. John was hunched against the stable wall, his dog whining at his feet.

  ‘Are you much hurt?’ I asked shortly, for although I was concerned for him, I was also angry with him, and with Antoinette.

  He looked up at me groggily. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I think you are fortunate that Mr Gavin did not horsewhip you as he threatened,’ I said severely. ‘You know very well that you have been warned to keep away from Miss Antoinette. You were taking advantage because you know her father is away.’

  John spat blood into the dust. One of his teeth had been knocked out, I noticed.

  ‘I only threw a few stones up at her window,’ he said sullenly. ‘She came down readily enough.’
/>
  What could I say? I had no doubt Antoinette was just as much to blame as he was.

  ‘Can you walk?’ I asked him. ‘If you can, you’d better come into the kitchen and let me clean your wounds.’

  He gaped at me in amazement, his slack mouth open, blood trickling down his chin.

  ‘Come along,’ I said. ‘Lean on me.’

  I put an arm out to help him and the dog growled menacingly.

  ‘He’ll have to stay outside,’ I said. ‘Cook wouldn’t thank me for bringing a mangy cur into her kitchen.’

  Braving the dog’s low protest, I supported John into the kitchen.

  ‘The gamekeeper’s boy has met with an accident,’ I explained to a startled Cook – I had no intention of telling her the truth of what had occurred.

  She did not, of course, believe me, and she watched disapprovingly as I bathed John’s cuts and fetched him a small snifter of Louis’ brandy. By the time he had drunk it he was much recovered, and although every movement was clearly painful for him, he insisted he was fit to make his way home.

  He left without thanks, but I wanted none. I only hoped that if Louis was in need of some assistance in a foreign land, someone would do the same for him. I watched John limp away across the stable yard, the dog at his heels, and went back into the house.

  There was no sign of Gavin, but I suspected he was in the parlour. He might very well take advantage of Louis’ absence to spend the night under the roof of Belvedere rather than returning to the lodge, I thought. I went to Antoinette’s room and found her lying fully clothed upon her bed. I could see at a glance that she had been crying, but I was in no mood to let her behaviour go unchallenged.

  ‘What were you thinking of, Antoinette?’ I demanded.

  She turned her face into her pillow, not answering.

  ‘You cannot behave so,’ I told her. ‘If you do, you will certainly live to regret it. You might have played with John when you were small, but you are now a young lady, and he is not a suitable companion for you. But you know all this already. You would not have slipped out by way of the window, risking life and limb, if you had not been very well aware that you should not be going out at all. I won’t have it, Antoinette. I am responsible for you in your father’s absence and I mean to ensure you behave properly. Either you give me your word that you will not run away to meet John again, or I shall send for the carpenter and have your window secured.’

  ‘He won’t come back now,’ Antoinette muttered into her pillow. ‘Not after what Uncle Gavin did to him. He won’t risk another beating like that one.’

  ‘Then perhaps your Uncle Gavin has achieved a measure of success where the rest of us have failed,’ I said tartly.

  She turned her head towards me and her eyes, reddened by crying, blazed green fire.

  ‘I hate him!’

  ‘For beating John? He was very angry, Antoinette. I don’t know what he discovered you doing when he came to the stable – I don’t want to know. But I can guess.’

  ‘No you can’t!’ Antoinette retorted. ‘We were talking about how I could buy my foal. And that’s why I hate Uncle Gavin – because he has no intention of getting her for me, I know it. He’ll ensure we are too late arriving at market – if he takes me at all. He’s enjoying making me beg, enjoying me being disappointed. And I hate him. Hate him!’

  ‘I thought you and your uncle got along very well,’ I ventured.

  ‘Sometimes. When Papa is here he is really nice to me, and good fun too. But when Papa is away he changes. He can be horrid.’

  That, I thought, was the crux of it. In Louis’ presence he would undermine his authority and enjoy taunting Louis with his popularity. But when Louis was not here, he enjoyed wielding his power. I dreaded to think what would happen if Louis did not come back. This evening I had seen a very nasty side to Gavin, in more ways than one.

  ‘I’ll make a bargain with you, Antoinette,’ I said. ‘I will take you to the market myself very early in the morning to give us the best chance of being in time, and I will buy the foal for you. But you must promise me there will be no more excursions to meet John.’

  ‘But you said ladies didn’t deal with such things,’ Antoinette pointed out.

  ‘On this occasion I shall make an exception.’

  ‘But you haven’t any money…’

  ‘I am sure your father’s good name will secure us credit,’ I said. ‘But you have to promise me, Antoinette, no more escapades like tonight, even if we are for some reason unsuccessful in our efforts to buy the foal.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘Promise!’ I said sternly. ‘Otherwise I shall certainly leave it to your Uncle Gavin.’

  ‘Oh, all right, I promise.’

  She still looked sullen and tear-stained, but I knew she would never capitulate easily and I rather thought I had taken another step towards establishing some kind of rapport with the girl who, if things went badly, might yet become my charge.

  I had given Louis my word that I would do my best by her. Helpless as I was in every other respect, I could at least ensure I did my best to keep that promise. Whatever happened, I would not let Louis down.

  Thirteen

  In the event, Gavin came with us to market. I had asked Thompson to have the carriage ready early, and as soon as we had finished breakfast, we set off. But we had not gone far before Gavin caught us, riding his own horse, and galloped alongside, calling that he would see us in Twyford St Mary. Antoinette was delighted, and I must admit to being relieved. For all my good intentions I had been nervous about my ability to negotiate successfully for the foal.

  It was a fine bright morning with a hint of spring in the air. All along the wayside new green leaf was peppering what had been bare brown branches. I thought of how my father had loved the spring and felt a deep sadness that this year he would not see it. But the edge had gone from my grief. One person can bear only so much emotion, and I was full to overflowing.

  Though Twyford St Mary was some way from Monksmoor, I had been to the market there several times before, so the crowd that had gathered on the green came as no surprise to me. Travelling folk mingled with villagers, piebalds and Exmoor ponies rubbed fetlocks with fine thoroughbred horses, pedlars paraded their wares, a knife grinder honed sharp steel, a barrel organ churned out a merry tinkling melody. Antoinette, who had never seen such a gathering before, was high with excitement, though also touchingly anxious that we should find her foal before it was sold elsewhere.

  As we wandered through the crowd looking for Gavin I was surprised and pleased to come face to face with George Doughty.

  ‘Flora!’ he exclaimed. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘We’ve come for the foal – the one I first saw in your smithy,’ Antoinette told him.

  ‘Is that so, Miss Antoinette?’ He beamed at her. Clearly she had made a good impression on him with her enthusiasm on the day we had visited. ‘Ah, you’ll be pleased with her, I’m sure. She’s a fine little animal, and no mistake.’

  ‘We must make haste, I think, George,’ I said. ‘She’ll find a buyer quickly if she’s such a fetching thing. And we have to find Gavin, who is going to make the purchase for Antoinette.’

  ‘Gavin Fletcher?’ George frowned. ‘Mr Louis’ brother? You’re with him?’

  I nodded. ‘Louis is away in France.’

  ‘Hmm.’ George’s face spoke volumes. ‘Well, I hope you’ll find time to come and see us again soon, Flora. We’ve been so worried about you. Ralph gave you the messages about the inn all right, I understand.’

  ‘He did.’ I glanced anxiously at Antoinette, but all her attention was given to looking for Gavin, and at that very moment she bobbed excitedly.

  ‘There he is! Uncle Gavin – over here!’ She was waving to attract his attention.

  ‘I must go, George,’ I said.

  ‘Well – take care, Flora.’ And to Antoinette: ‘I hope you get the foal, Miss.’

  ‘We will. Come on, Flora!’ She tugged
at my sleeve, I bid George goodbye, we joined Gavin and went in search of the dealer who had been entrusted with the foal.

  * * *

  An hour later and the deal was successfully done.

  ‘I’ll take him home with me on a leading rein,’ Gavin said, but Antoinette would have none of it. She did not want to let her precious acquisition out of her sight, and insisted she be tethered to the carriage as we had originally intended.

  We were walking back across the green when suddenly one horse in particular caught my eye. I stopped short, my heart pounding so hard I thought it would burst.

  Tethered with three or four others was a big grey, a magnificent beast that would, I am sure, have attracted my attention in any case if I had been a lover of horses. But it was not the size of the animal that arrested me, nor the way it pawed the ground impatiently. It was the distinctive markings. A great white flash on the muzzle, and a white sock.

  Unless I was much mistaken, it perfectly fitted the description of the horse Jem Giddings had seen galloping away from Tucker’s Grave on the night my father was murdered.

  ‘Flora? Are you feeling unwell?’ Gavin’s voice seemed to come from a long way off.

  My hand was at my throat; I could feel the blood pumping in my ears.

  ‘That horse!’ I whispered.

  Gavin frowned. ‘What do you mean? Which one? There are horses everywhere!’

  ‘That one!’ I pointed, then withdrew my hand as if I somehow knew that recognizing it might be dangerous. ‘A horse was seen galloping away from Tucker’s Grave on the night my father was shot, and the man who saw it met an untimely end also. That horse –’ I jerked my chin in its direction – ‘is just as poor Jem Giddings described it!’

  ‘You are letting your imagination run away with you.’ Gavin sounded impatient.

  ‘Perhaps. But…’ I could not tear my eyes away from the grey. ‘If it is one and the same, then whoever owns it is one of the men responsible for my father’s death!’

  ‘The beast is clearly with a horse dealer,’ Gavin said. ‘You’d learn nothing from these people, Flora. They are mostly vagrants and vagabonds.’