There was no denying that. The man standing beside the grey was unkempt and dirty, a gypsy at best.
‘But he must know where the horse came from!’ My mind was chasing shadows as I spoke. ‘Someone asked the dealer to sell him on – he must know who that was!’
‘I think it unlikely.’ Gavin spread an elegant hand to emphasize his point. ‘Men like that ask few questions, for often enough questions are unwelcome. They know their horseflesh. If the beast is sound in wind and limb, that’s good enough for them.’
‘Are you saying that horse is stolen, then?’ I asked.
‘From the look of the vendor, it wouldn’t surprise me.’ Gavin shifted impatiently. ‘But Flora, this is all speculation. You cannot even be certain that horse is the same one your old friend saw.’
‘He was no friend of mine,’ I corrected him. ‘But he was very canny when it came to horses. And you have to agree, Gavin, those markings are very unusual. Heavens, it’s not that common to see a grey at all! I am going to speak to that dealer. Will you wait for me?’
Gavin laid a hand on my arm and I instinctively recoiled. Since the night he had kissed me and looked for more, his touch was repugnant to me. Gavin, however, seemed unaware of my reaction.
‘You must not do this, Flora!’ His voice was low and urgent. ‘If you are right and there was such a horse – if indeed that is the very same animal – then the likelihood is that he has been sent to market for a purpose. Your father’s murderer heard the gossip and decided his best course of action was to get rid of the horse rather than have it linked to him. Didn’t this Jem Giddings meet his end in suspicious circumstances? If he was killed because he could identify the horse that galloped away from Tucker’s Grave, then the rider must be a desperate man. Desperate not to be linked to your father’s death. Desperate enough to kill again. And if that is so, then you would be placing yourself in danger if you began asking questions. The next body found upon a lonely road could be yours!’
A chill whispered over my skin. Gavin was right in every respect, I felt sure. The owner of that horse might very well be desperate to avoid recognition. If he was working secretly against the Brotherhood of the Lynx it was likely vital to him that no shadow of suspicion fell upon him. And that he was dangerous, I had no doubt. He had already killed once, and perhaps twice. I did not think he would hesitate to kill again if he thought he was in danger of being unmasked. But I would risk anything to bring my father’s killer to justice – and to learn who it was who threatened the safety of Louis and his comrades in the Brotherhood.
I raised my chin. ‘I cannot let this opportunity slip away,’ I said with determination. ‘I have to try and see if there is any morsel of information I can learn.’
I made to go towards the dealer, and once again Gavin intercepted me.
‘I am sorry, Flora, but I cannot let you do this. If you are determined the dealer should be questioned as to what he might know, then I should be the one to do it, for at least I am a man and capable of taking care of myself.’
I felt a stab of surprise at Gavin’s unexpected chivalry, and also of guilt, that I had misjudged him. But his confidence in his ability to take care of himself was misplaced, I felt. My father had been no weakling, yet he had been gunned down without mercy.
‘It’s my fight,’ I said stubbornly. ‘I should be the one to take the chances.’
Gavin smiled briefly. ‘As I have said before, a spirited little thing! No, Flora, I am afraid I must stand firm on this. Take Antoinette to the carriage and set out for home and safety. When you are well clear of this thronging crowd, any one of whom could be your father’s murderer for all you know, then I will approach the dealer and make some enquiries. Don’t argue, now, my mind is made up. Why, Louis would never forgive me if I allowed you to fall into any danger.’
He looked at me slyly as he said that, and I thought that without doubt he did indeed know there was something between Louis and me. But I could not worry my head about that now – and in any case, it was over.
‘I’ll likely catch up with you long before you reach Belvedere,’ Gavin went on. ‘If I do not I’ll appraise you over supper of what I’ve been able to learn – though to be truthful, I am not hopeful of it being very much.’
‘You’ll do your best, I know,’ I said. ‘Thank you, Gavin.’
We headed back to where Thompson was waiting with the carriage, Antoinette leading the foal by the bridle, and I found myself fervently hoping we would not run into George again. Just now I did not want to be engaged in conversation, even by someone I loved as I loved him, and I did not want him to know about the horse either. If George had any inkling, he would no doubt be up to the green in a flash and asking the same questions Gavin had promised to ask, but without the same degree of tact. I could not bear the thought that some harm should befall George through my fault. But we did not see him.
We found Thompson yarning comfortably with some farmers. At Antoinette’s insistence, he took a good look at the foal and pronounced her a sound buy before tying her up to the carriage.
‘We’ll have to go steady-like, not to frighten or overtire her,’ he said. ‘It’s a good thing she’s with us and not Mr Gavin, if you ask me. He’d make her go too fast for her dainty little legs, I wouldn’t be surprised.’
‘That’s just what I thought,’ Antoinette agreed. ‘Uncle Gavin can be very careless.’
And also surprisingly chivalrous, I thought.
The track the carriage was parked on encircled the green, and rather than turn around, Thompson trotted around it. As we neared the place where the grey had been I leaned forward, peering amongst the constantly shifting crowds for another glimpse of it. But neither the horse nor the gypsy dealer were anywhere to be seen.
A little further on, however, I caught sight of Gavin talking to two men. Neither of them was the gypsy, but both were quite rough in appearance, and from what I could make out at this distance the conversation was animated and not altogether amicable.
Had Gavin established the identity of the horse’s owner? Was he pursuing his enquiries – or could one of those ruffians be my father’s murderer? Again my heart thudded uneasily, and I wondered if I should ask Thompson to stop and make sure Gavin was not in need of assistance. But I did not think Gavin would thank me for interfering, and in any case, I had Antoinette in my care. She should be protected from any unpleasantness or even danger at all costs. I peered back as the carriage pulled further away, and to my relief, saw Gavin moving off through the milling crowds.
I could scarcely wait to find out if he had been successful in learning anything of interest.
* * *
That afternoon, for the first time since Louis had left, Antoinette spoke to me about her mother and her brother. It was as if, now that the foal was hers, she could allow herself to think about other things.
‘Do you think my brother likes horses?’ she asked, quite conversationally, and for all the world as if he were no more than a visitor who had nothing to do with her at all.
‘I expect he does,’ I replied. ‘Most boys do, don’t they?’
‘Mm.’ She considered. ‘How old is he? Eight? I hope he won’t be too much of a horror. But the foal will soon be just the right size for him to ride. And if he doesn’t know how, I shall rather enjoy teaching him.’
I was rather surprised by this, though perhaps, given how lonely Antoinette was, I should not have been. But to be so willing to share her beloved acquisition with a boy she had never even met was unlike the Antoinette I had come to know, and I was impressed by her generosity. A moment later, however, my illusions were shattered.
‘She’ll still be mine, of course,’ she went on smugly. ‘And if he falls off a few times perhaps he’ll realize he is not so clever as he must undoubtedly think himself.’
‘How much did your father tell you before he left?’ I asked.
‘Oh, just that my mother did not die at all, but went home to France. And that my brother we
nt with her.’ She sounded almost uninterested.
‘It must have been a dreadful shock for you,’ I said.
She shrugged. ‘I suppose. I always suspected I hadn’t been told the truth about Mama. After all, if she had died, why did Papa never take me to visit her grave? And why did he hate her name being mentioned?’ Her mouth tightened and her green eyes suddenly grew very sharp. ‘I’ve overheard things, too. When one is just a child, people think you don’t hear, or understand. They talk as if you are not there. Grandmama and Papa used to say things that didn’t make sense to me at the time, but later, when I was older, I drew my own conclusions.’
‘Are you pleased to think your Mama may be coming back now?’ I asked.
She shrugged again. ‘I don’t much mind one way or the other. I’m sure I won’t like her, though. She was never very nice to me, and why should I like someone who chose to take my brother with her and leave me behind?’
The bitterness was there now in her voice and I realized she had not grasped the fact that at the time Lisette had returned to France no one had known she was carrying another child.
‘I don’t think that’s quite the case, Antoinette,’ I said. ‘Your brother was born later, I understand.’
‘When she was in France and my father in England, you mean?’ Antoinette frowned. ‘Then he can’t be a proper brother at all. Only a half-brother, maybe.’
‘I think not.’ This conversation was taking a turn I did not like. It was far too intimate for comfort. And I found myself wondering too why Louis was so sure the boy was indeed his son. But since he was clearly convinced as to that fact, it was not for me to question his reasons. ‘I think it is something you have to accept,’ I said simply.
As suddenly as she had raised the subject she let it go.
‘I’m going to see how the foal has settled in,’ she said. ‘I’ve time before changing for supper, haven’t I?’
‘I’m sure you have,’ I said, relieved. ‘Have you thought of a name for her yet?’
‘Misty,’ Antoinette replied promptly.
‘Ah, that’s a good name,’ I agreed.
But it reminded me too of the grey horse. I hoped Gavin would not be too long returning, for the anxiety was gnawing again at the pit of my stomach. And I hoped that he would do so whilst Antoinette was still occupied with the foal so that I could question him freely as to what he had learned.
* * *
My hope was satisfied. Not long afterwards I saw Gavin come riding up the drive. He came into the house through the kitchen and I heard him snapping at Cook, and then at Walter. This was not a good sign. It was unlike Gavin to display ill humour. He was too fond of being popular with everyone.
I met him in the hallway, and he snapped at me too.
‘Faith, you startled me, Flora! Do you have to creep about so?’
‘I’m anxious to speak with you,’ I said. ‘Did you manage to learn anything about the ownership of the grey horse?’
‘Can’t a man at least get his redingote off before you begin nagging him?’ he grumbled. ‘And don’t you have the good sense to wait until we are out of earshot of the servants before you start on your questions?’
‘There’s no one to hear!’ I replied defensively, thinking he sounded more like Louis in the days when I had first come to Belvedere than his usual self. I knew now, of course, the reason for Louis’ caution. Could it be that Gavin now knew something he considered to be dangerous?
He strode into the parlour and I followed.
‘Since you are clearly bursting with impatience, I will put you out of your misery,’ he said shortly. ‘I’m none the wiser, I’m afraid, about how that horse came to be at market.’
‘The dealer had left?’ I said. ‘I could not see him when we passed by.’
‘No, I caught up with him, but as I thought, he was slippery as an eel.’ Gavin was pouring himself a brandy – it was a little early to be beginning on the liquor, I thought, but of course I said nothing. ‘He agreed that the horse came from this neck of the woods, but claimed he did not know the man he had bought him from.’
‘Couldn’t you get a description?’ I asked, disappointed. ‘You might have recognized him from it. After all, you’ve lived in Dartmouth all your life. You must know most of the local people.’
‘I told you, he would say nothing. It was all: “Sorry, sir, I couldn’t say, sir” and I didn’t deem it wise to press him. As a matter of fact, I don’t consider it was wise to ask questions at all. If the horse is the one owned by the man who murdered your father, and word gets back that we are on the point of discovering his identity, it might well be enough to precipitate some act of violence.’ He sipped his brandy; his eyes met mine. ‘Consider what happened to Jem Giddings.’
‘But if we knew who was responsible, then we could set the law on him.’ I hesitated, wondering if I dared broach the subject of the connection between my father and the Brotherhood of the Lynx, and deciding I must. ‘It’s more than just simply bringing my father’s murderer to justice,’ I said. ‘I don’t know how much you know about what Louis does, Gavin, but I think my father died because of his involvement. Someone, for some reason, is working for Louis’ downfall. If we knew who it was, it could save Louis’ life.’
Gavin’s eyes narrowed. ‘I had not realized you knew so much, Flora. Did your father acquaint you with the details of what he did?’
‘No, he told me nothing. All I know, I know from Louis himself.’
‘Louis has told you?’ He sounded surprised.
‘Yes.’
‘Well, well! You are closer to him than I had realized.’ He laughed softly. ‘He’s a fool, my brother. He risks his neck for no reason but chivalry. Well, you might as well know I have no intention of doing the same. My life is too precious to me. He’ll be caught one of these days, make no mistake about it. Whether we discover the perpetrator of your father’s murder or not.’
‘But surely for his sake we can at least try to learn who is working against him?’ I said desperately. ‘Surely at least you owe him that much, Gavin! He is your brother, after all.’
Gavin was silent for a moment, deep in thought. Then: ‘I have to go out again, Flora,’ he said.
Hope flared in me. Had I touched a nerve, made him realize there might be something we could do to keep Louis safe?
‘The gypsy did give you a clue as to the identity of the owner of the grey?’ I whispered. ‘Are you going to follow it up, Gavin?’
He finished the brandy in one gulp and strode to the door.
‘You ask too many questions, Flora,’ was all he said.
* * *
Gavin did not return in time for supper. Somehow I made conversation with Antoinette, but it was not easy when my mind was running in circles and my nerves were stretched to breaking point. He had still not returned when Antoinette retired to her room, and I did the same.
I undressed and brushed my hair, thinking of Louis, and thinking, too, of Gavin, both putting their lives at risk because of the rising of a desperate people in a foreign land. I climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin, for with the coming of darkness the warmth of the day had gone as if it had never been and there was a sharp chill in the air once more. But I could not sleep. I lay staring into the darkness, listening for the sound of Gavin’s horse’s hooves on the drive, and wondering how Louis was faring in France.
I think at last I must have dozed, exhaustion getting the better of me, for though I thought I was still awake and aware of every creak as the house settled around me, I did not hear the approaching hooves. It was the loud knocking at the door that shocked me into full wakefulness, like the reprise of a bad dream, and instantly I was all a-tremble, remembering with every fibre of my being the knocking in the night that had led to my father’s death.
I lay for a moment frozen with fear. Had they come again, those men with guns in their hands and murder on their minds, but this time to Belvedere, to dispose of others who threatened their ev
il business? Was Gavin home yet? Would he answer the knocking? And if I crept downstairs, would I find him lying in a pool of blood as I had found my father?
All these thoughts raced through my mind in less time than it takes to tell, and the knocking came again, urgent, demanding.
Nothing in the house stirred. Gavin could not be home, I realized, or if he was, he had gone to the lodge. And the servants were unlikely to be roused. Their quarters were tucked away in the attics at the rear of the house. If I did nothing, then perhaps whoever it was would simply go away.
And then another thought occurred to me. Supposing it was a messenger with word from Louis! Supposing something terrible had happened to him! I knew then that I could not ignore the knocking. Whatever the danger, I had to know who it was who came to Belvedere at this hour.
I pushed aside the covers and got out of bed, reaching for my wrap. The window of my room was almost immediately above the great front door; there was no need for me to go downstairs to find out who it was on the other side.
I crossed the floor on trembling legs and threw the casement wide. A carriage was drawn up on the forecourt, and steam from the horses’ flanks rose like fine mist into the cold night air. But I could see no coachman, and whoever was at the door was hidden from my view by the overhanging parapet. Even as I peered out, the knocking came again.
‘Who’s there?’ I called; my voice, shrill with fear, sounded loud in the still night.
The figure of a man stepped out of the hidden doorway and into my line of vision, peering up at the window. My first impression was that he was a gentleman, booted and wigged, and wearing a tricorn hat.
‘Is that Flora?’ His voice was low and urgent.
I gathered my wrap around me. ‘Who is it? How do you know my name?’
‘I come from Louis. For God’s sake open the door!’
My heart came thudding into my throat. I had been right! Or so it seemed. But how could I be sure? Just because the visitor looked like a gentleman did not necessarily mean he was not also the enemy. This could yet be a trap.
Tucker's Inn Page 24
