by Joan Smith
“So that is what’s got your dander up. The fact is, ma’am, Mr. Fletcher particularly asked me not to tell ye." He closed one eye and nodded sagely. “But as you’ve ferreted it out, ‘twas petticoat dealings. I have just been having it checked out, and it verifies. A pretty little wench over at the Black Knight. He visited her last night and was there all through the robbery. He left the wench at five in the morning, to get back in his room before he was missed—except that Meecham slipped in around two and saw he was missing,”
“A lightskirt!” Esther exclaimed. This was nearly as bad as robbing a coach. Worse, in that it lacked any daring and revealed only a dissolute side to the man. Any tinge of glamour Captain Johnnie’s reputation had bestowed on Fletcher was quickly rubbed off, and he stood revealed in his true colors. “Well, upon my word!”
“Nothing to ruffle your fine feathers, milady. They all do it, and worse. And now I’ve a bone to pick with ye! Ye ought not to have announced in public that Lord and Lady Wrotham are coming to you tonight.”
In her pique Esther had forgotten the more important reason for calling Clifford. She quickly outlined her plan. Clifford was not happy with her.
“Leave the catching of thieves to us that is trained for it,” he said curtly. “What you have done is put me to a deal of bother for nothing.”
“But if Meecham goes after the imaginary coach, it is an excellent opportunity to catch him.”
“Catch him sitting on a horse in the shadows, minding his own business. You can’t arrest a man for taking a moonlight ride, and that is all he’d be doing.”
“If he goes to the heath tonight, we’ll know he is Captain Johnnie at least. He has the pistol, the cape, and mask.”
“I discussed them items with him when I spotted them in his room myself. Many gentlemen carry a pistol when traveling. He was at a masquerade party last week and kept the things, as it seems Joshua Ramsay is having another masked party.”
“Mr. Ramsay only decided that this morning.”
“Nay, ‘twas decided before. Ramsay told me so hisself.”
Esther found another slight in this. The party was not for her. It was Meecham who wanted a masquerade party. It had not been her first choice. “How about the open window and the quoins used as a ladder?”
“Meecham didn’t build the quoins into the house. They’ve been there forever.”
“He chose the corner room and left his window open.”
“A body needs a breath of fresh air. Mr. Meecham is a gentleman of the first stare, Miss Lowden.”
“You called him a petty thief before!”
“Aye, before I knew Mr. Joshua Ramsay had asked him in particular to look in on Fletcher’s room. Everyone in London knows ‘im, according to Mr. Joshua Ramsay. Meecham is kin to half the lords and ladies whose names pepper the journals for their social gadding. There’s no way such a lad would risk his reputation. With his Adonis face he has only to marry an heiress, and any money troubles he has would be over with. It seems all the ladies are tossing their bonnets at his head. Ye don’t go accusing someone like that, and a veteran besides.”
Esther saw that Meecham was securely restored to his pedestal. “Why does he have that rope in his room, and why does he wedge his door with a knife?”
“He mentioned your poor fire-safety measures. Plenty of folks travel with a rope, in case of fire. Being near the back stairs, he figures he’s in the worst location. A fire could come ripping up them stairs from the kitchen and burn you all to cinders. It ain’t my own area of expertise, but you ought to put in a set of fire stairs outside, miss.”
“Why did he use a ladder the first night instead of coming in the door like a Christian?”
“I daresay he had wedged his door with a knife against thieves. The ladder was lying about handy when he returned, so he used it to crawl in. What ye didn’t think to ask, miss, is how young Fletcher got in and out last night with no one being any the wiser.”
“Rope or ladder?” she asked through thin lips.
“Rope. In his case it was your own good opinion he was fearful of losing, so he availed hisself of a rope and crept out and in that way.”
“Does Meecham feel a knife stuck in his door would help his escape by a rope through the window, in case of fire?” she demanded.
“We all know public inns are beehives of thieves. He was only securing his valuables.”
“He didn’t have any valuables. He had a rope and a mask and cape.”
“And a few odd bits of personal adornment ye missed. He keeps them in an empty wine bottle. A diamond stud, gold watch fobs, and whatnot. He showed them to me. A right clever lad, thinking of such a hiding place.”
“Perhaps more clever than you know, Mr. Clifford. He’s conned you.”
“No, he gave reasonable answers to my questions, but that ain’t to say I take his word for gospel. I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“And you’ll follow him if he leaves the inn to intercept the Wrothams?”
“I will. Just in case he’s connected with the Scamp, I want to learn where he stables his mount. He must have headquarters somewhere nearby. Captain Johnnie must have, I mean, since we smoked him out of the Black Knight. That was his headquarters till a week ago.”
Still miffed at Mr. Fletcher’s duplicity, Esther said, “Perhaps Mr. Fletcher’s wench could help you.”
“She can’t. She only moved into the Black Knight four days ago from London. Fletcher stayed there the night before he came here, and that is when he met her. A comely young girl.”
Perhaps he would stop and visit the girl on his way to London to fetch Cathy. Esther felt her heart congeal to lava. She was furious with Fletcher for deceiving her, with Officer Clifford for not believing Meecham was guilty, and with Joshua for implying the masquerade party was for her. Most of all she was frustrated with not being able to do anything about the situation.
“What will you do tonight?” she asked sharply.
“I’ll loiter about the inn, see who leaves, and follow him.”
The afternoon seemed long. Beau was in London, and Joshua and Meecham didn’t return from Heath Abbey. She had no idea what they were doing, or even whether they would return to the inn that evening. Meecham might go straight from the Abbey to his headquarters to saddle up and try to rob the Wrothams. Except that his mask and domino were presumably still in his room. Or would he have another set at his headquarters? At least he wasn’t using her abandoned stable. A footboy from the inn had checked it out regularly, and no one had been there.
She felt a twinge of annoyance every time she thought of how her hospitality was being abused. She longed to throw Paul Meecham into the road like the thief he was, but with Joshua making a pet of him and Clifford singing his praises, she didn’t dare to do it.
Dinner was an upsetting meal. Meecham had not returned, nor had she seen any sign of Joshua. Officer Clifford sat in a dark corner alone, shoveling in his mutton.
Lady Brown babbled on in her usual aimless fashion. “We should take a run over to the dower house and see how the painting is going, Esther. I’m not sure you were wise to choose pink for the saloon. It can be gaudy, though it is flattering to aging complexions.”
“Buck is keeping an eye on that, Auntie.”
“I was looking forward to this stay at your inn, but now we are here, I find I miss the comforts of home. One doesn’t like to go to her bedchamber at seven-thirty at night, nor to lounge about the lobby here like a commoner. Lady Gloria says the same. She has had a conciliating letter from her brother. He invited her back to the Hall. Of course it is only her fortune he is after, now that she is getting on in years, but I feel she will accept. No one wants to grow old alone, amid strangers.”
This depressing talk did nothing to lighten Esther’s mood. Was it to be her lot in life to grow old alone, at the inn? “At least Lady Gloria will have you for company this evening, Auntie.”
“Yes, we will be playing cards in her room. You are more than welco
me to join us.”
To avoid this fate Esther said, “I have some business to discuss with Buck.”
“Make sure he keeps the office door closed. You wouldn’t want strangers staring in at you.”
Eventually Lady Brown went upstairs to play cards with Lady Gloria, and Esther went to Buck’s office, as it gave better access to Officer Clifford and doings at the inn. At eight-thirty Clifford came tapping at the door.
“No sign of Meecham,” he informed Esther. “I daresay, he is still with Mr. Ramsay at the Abbey.”
“Why don’t you ride over and make sure?” she suggested.
“Nay, I have to keep an eye on the rest of your customers. Ye have other gents here that might be planning to strike out at nine to meet the Wrothams.”
Esther looked at Buck. “Perhaps you would just post over to Josh’s place, Buck. Ask him if he has the list for his ball ready. I have offered to write up his cards for him.”
Buck’s eyes grew wide. “You mean—go alone?” he asked.
Another hero. “No, go in the carriage, and take a groom with you.”
Buck wiped his brow, where a film of moisture had sprung up. “I don’t suppose Captain Johnnie would be working the main road, so close to town,” he said, to ease his own worries.
“I shouldn’t think so,” Esther agreed.
Clifford listened. The lad had no more backbone than a dormouse. “Not a chance in Hades,” he added. “He sticks to the heath, does Captain Johnnie.”
Thus assured, Buck removed his watch, ring, and tiepin, just in case, and went to call the groom. Officer Clifford became bored with his vigil, and when two male clients left the dining room, he said, “That pair bears watching. I’ll just follow them a ways down the road and see they don’t veer off to the heath. There is no saying who might be the Scamp. I’d look nohow if I let him walk right out from under my nose.”
Esther glanced out to see whom he had chosen for his quarry. “Why, that is Mr. Belfoi and his son. They stop for dinner every week on their way home from London on business. They will only be going home.”
“In London every week, you say? That sounds highly suspicious.”
“They’ll take the west road home to Henley. They always do.”
Clifford’s eyes narrowed to slits. “So they’d have ye believe. I don’t suppose you’ve ever followed them?”
“No, I haven’t.”
Clifford shook his head at her simplicity. He jammed on his hat and hustled out after the Belfois. Esther sat on alone. She did not feel it necessary to have the local judge and vicar followed when they left her dining room, nor did she think it likely a local family with two children would take to the heath. She drummed her fingers impatiently, occasionally glancing at the London newspaper that had arrived late that afternoon.
Half an hour later Buck returned unscathed. “Joshua wasn’t home, nor was Meecham at the Abbey,” he reported. "They dined there early, but had left an hour before I arrived. Since Meecham left with Joshua, I shouldn’t think you have to worry, Esther.”
“Did you find out where they went?”
“They didn’t leave word. Josh is probably taking Meecham to call on some of his relatives. He seems taken with the lad. Unlike Joshua to make a chum of a stranger on such short acquaintance,” he mused.
“Then I guess there’s nothing to do but wait. My little scheme has come to nought.” She picked up the journal and began scanning the columns. Her eyes riveted on the report of Captain Johnnie’s latest escapade, the holdup of the gold wagon. It gave an account of the guards who were murdered, the amount of gold coin taken, the intended destination, and so on. Toward the end she read, “Sir Clarence Fulbright, the deputy minister in charge of the transfer, is at a loss to know how Captain Johnnie learned of the shipment and believes he did not know in advance but came across it by accident.”
Sir Clarence Fulbright! The very gentleman Joshua had spoken to in London. Joshua’s main purpose in going to London was to hound Bow Street into a closer patrol of the heath. It must have been in his mind when he spoke to Fulbright. It was entirely possible Fulbright had mentioned the shipment leaving that very evening. But Joshua had denied it vigorously, as he vigorously denied that Meecham could possibly be involved.
Everything pointed to Meecham. Why would no one listen to her? She felt a rising panic and a growing certainty that Meecham was even now donning his black cape and mask—except that he was, presumably, with Joshua. Maybe he had made some excuse to get away.
“Buck, look at this,” she said, fingering the article.
“I read it,” he replied.
She told him about Joshua’s conversation with Fulbright. “By Jove, you don’t think old Joshua’s tied up in this business!”
“Good Lord, no. That wasn’t my meaning, but as he’s so close with Meecham, he might have let something slip.”
“Not if he didn’t want to. Joshua’s pretty close-lipped, and a clever rascal to boot.”
Something in Buck’s glinting eye sent a shiver up Esther’s spine. Buck was suggesting that Joshua was personally involved in the doings of the Royal Scamp. It took her breath away to consider such a possibility. “What are you suggesting?” she asked. Her voice was high with disbelief.
“Joshua landed in just minutes before the Higginses the night they were robbed. You notice, he didn’t stick around but left immediately. He was afraid they’d recognize him.”
“That’s true. I thought it odd, for he had promised to walk me home.”
“There you are, then. And last night he and Meecham were whispering together in the card room. Minutes after, Meecham staggered upstairs playing at being foxed, but we know now he wasn’t. Where did Joshua go? Did anyone ask him?”
“I didn’t. But surely—oh, I can’t believe it, Buck.”
“He’s powerfully set on picking up Pilchener’s place. It costs a monkey, and how can he afford it?”
“But if this is true…”
“No real harm done. The Wrothams ain’t coming. Don’t I wish they were! Top of the trees. But they ain’t, so you need not fear they’ll be robbed.”
“But I would like to discover if Meecham and—” she couldn’t speak Joshua’s name in such a context “—if Meecham is going after the Wrothams. I almost wish Beau Fletcher were here. He’d go after them fast enough.” She looked at Buck assessingly.
He clutched at his cravat and backed away. “Now, Esther, don’t say it. Don’t even think it. I’m not riding out on the heath alone in the dead of night.”
“You wouldn’t be alone. You could take a footman—take two.”
“Send two,” he suggested, “as soon as Clifford returns.”
“He should be here by now. He’s probably following the Belfois all the way to the Henley turnoff. He’ll be gone for an hour. We must do something, Buck.”
“By ‘we’, you mean I must do something. This was all your idea. You go after them.”
It was only desperation speaking, but Esther felt the justice of his claim. “I’ll go with you. I’m not afraid.”
“No! That would be worse than anything, to have a lady along to protect.”
“You won’t have to protect me. I’ll carry a pistol. I know how to shoot. Papa’s dueling pistols are in the safe. Get them out, and make sure they’re loaded. I’ll sneak down the kitchen stairs and meet you at the stable.” She was already turning toward the door. “Send a set of footman’s livery up to my room, Buck, and have our mounts saddled up. Oh, and have a footman occupy your office while you’re away.”
“Esther!”
She was already gone. Buck paced the office, scratching his head and muttering mild curses, but in the end his chivalrous instincts held sway, and he followed Esther’s orders, to prevent the hurly-burly girl from going with only a footman to protect her. He should have bargained with her at least. This should have won him permission to hire a pastry chef.
While Esther snatched the blue livery from the servant and wiggl
ed into trousers and jacket, Buck got out the pistols and carefully charged them. He held them as if they were red-hot, and might blow up in his face. When the distasteful job was done, he hid them under the newspaper, called in the head footman to guard his office, and went to the stable, where Esther was checking out Flame’s reins. She had her hair stuffed up under a hat, the brim pulled low over her face to hide her identity. The bay mare snorted in pleasure at this unexpected outing.
“Have you got the pistols?” she asked.
“Under the paper,” he muttered.
Mounting was difficult with his burden, but he finally got aloft and they cantered out to the road, where he gave Esther one pistol. His first concern was for propriety. “You’re riding astride, Esther. You’d be ruined if anyone recognized you.”
“No one did. I was careful.”
“I must be mad to go along with this scheme. We should have brought a brace of footmen.”
“It’s only Joshua and Meecham.”
“If we’re right, it’s only Captain Johnnie,” he riposted, with heavy sarcasm.
“We’re not going to do battle with them, Buck. We only plan to watch. If they’re skulking on the heath, we’ll know the truth.”
“Small pleasure it will give me, I can tell you. I’ll have to report that my cousin is a highwayman. By Jove, the disgrace will kill me if Josh don’t. And then we’ll have to stand in the box at Old Bailey and give evidence. I can’t go through with it, Esther. Let us go home.”
All this misery was every bit as distasteful to Esther as to her companion. “We’ll do nothing of the sort. We’ll tell Clifford, and he can catch them red-handed. He’ll know then exactly whom to suspect and won’t waste his time following the Belfois to Henley. He can set his own trap.”
“If all we see is two dark forms skulking, how are we to know it’s Joshua and Meecham?”
“We’ll follow them at a discreet distance. If one sheers off to the Abbey and one to the inn, then we’ll know.”
