by Joan Smith
“I wonder where he got the capes and hats tonight.”
“I was keeping an eye on him,” Meecham said. “I noticed he and the woman went outside, and after they went back in, I had a look around. Two capes and hats were hidden in the shrubbery. The pistols must have been wrapped up in the capes. I daresay their man from the boat—Fletcher’s groom cum valet—smuggled those items up to the Abbey.”
Esther was aware that Meecham’s laughing eyes were often trained on her as they talked. “I’m sorry I accused you, Mr. Meecham,” she said. “Your timely arrival at the inn and rather suspicious behaviour led me astray.”
“I told you why I went creeping into Fletcher’s room—to see if he was there.”
“I heard you were making inquiries in the taproom when you first arrived, and suddenly you and Joshua were old friends,” Esther prodded.
“Our friendship is much older, actually. Josh and I discussed my coming in London. He’s been trying to capture Captain Johnnie for a year now. I have no official capacity, but he thought a pair of ears at the inn might be helpful, and of course another rider with him on the heath at night. He thought my army experience might be useful. It was a venture after my own heart. As an old army type, I miss the excitement of the chase. Josh thought his importing an officer might alert Johnnie to what he was up to, so we decided we were new friends.”
Esther looked at Joshua, no longer surprised that this stalwart gentleman was accustomed to taking to the heath.
“Don’t ask why I didn’t tell you,” Josh said. “You spent half your time in Fletcher’s pocket. We didn’t want you dropping any hints. Paul was posing as a connection of mine to account for our necessarily being together, but we didn’t want it known that I had sent for him specifically to trap the highwayman. In fact, I would have preferred it if his army past could remain unknown as well, but you soon ferreted out that secret, Esther, and rather than raise a mystery, we decided to admit to it."
Esther decided not to take offense and turned again to Meecham. “I did wonder, you know, when I saw you down at my old abandoned barn and learned of your secret tours of the attic and cellars.”
“I was merely trying to see what use Johnnie planned to put them to. The evidence suggests he used the barn for some of his early work. I think the wine, however, was not stolen from your inn, but from the Black Knight. Clifford checked it for us, and they use the same sort. Once you set a guard on your stable, he had to abandon it and had mounts forwarded from the Black Knight. Half the horseflesh in the stable there is his. Your cellar was no good, as it had no outside door, and Buck was so often in his office, guarding the secret passage.”
“He seemed more interested in the attics. I recall he asked several questions about whether I planned to use them during the coming boxing match. Why did you go to the heath when I set my poor trap?” Esther asked. “Surely you didn’t think such an obvious trick would trap the Scamp?”
“It was his trip to London—that is, to the Black Knight to meet his ‘sister,’—that decided us he might tackle your imaginary Wrothams that night. It was worth a try at least,” Meecham explained.
“And why did you barricade your room door against me?—doing considerable damage to the door frame, I might add.”
“Not against you! Against the Scamp. My room was searched the day after I arrived.”
“That was Buck!” Esther said, and turned pink at the admission.
Meecham ignored it, like a gentleman, and continued. “I had a few bits and pieces I didn’t want him to see. Well, the cape and mask for one thing. Josh and I wore them when we went patrolling the heath. Josh is such a modest fellow, he didn’t want his neighbors recognizing him.”
“Yes, indeed,” Esther agreed ironically. “He is so modest, he didn’t even want you to know the masquerade party was in your honor, Mr. Meecham, and let on it was for me.”
“When Mr. Clifford found those items suspicious, we came up with the idea of a masquerade ball,” he said.
“I still found it suspicious,” Clifford exclaimed.
“Yes, and that is why we finally had to take you into our confidence,” Josh explained. “We would have done so sooner, but I know the runners’ view on civilian interference. You would have forbidden us to ride out after Johnnie on our own.”
“There’s one thing I still want to discover from you, Meecham,” Esther said. “Why did you enter your room by a ladder the first night you were at the inn? That is what initially set you up as a suspect.”
“And it was designed to do just the opposite.” Meecham laughed. “Josh rode out to meet me as I came from London. We saw the Higginses straggling toward town and assumed they had fallen victim to Johnnie. I mentioned to Josh that if I landed in at the inn two steps behind them, I might be suspected. I was a newcomer to town and rode a dark mount. I had left the inn at a time that made me the possible perpetrator. Josh suggested I slip in the window and pretend I had been in my room for some time. I do like the fresh air and leave my window open when I’m a safe distance from the ground. The ladder was there....”
“And you hadn’t yet discovered the trick of using the quoins as stairs.” Esther smiled.
“True, I only learned that after I knew it was ineligible to leave a rope hanging. It wouldn’t normally be seen at night, but with the sharp-eyed Miss Lowden on guard, it was unwise.”
Clifford rose and stretched his arms. “Any further details can wait till morning. I don’t know about the rest of you, but this old carcass is for the feather tick.”
“This one as well,” Meecham added, and they left together.
Esther sighed and said to Joshua, “This aging parcel of flesh and bones is about ready for bed as well. Shall we go, Josh?”
He looked surprised. “Why it’s only—”
“Only twenty to five, practically sunrise.”
“We haven’t had time to talk.”
Esther yawned into her fist. “No time to talk? We’ve been talking for hours.”
“But not about us.” He rose from his chair and sat beside her on the sofa. “Only about your other beau, Captain Johnnie. I hope this convinces you that you would be better off with a man you’ve known longer."
Esther gave him a teasing look. “Buck, do you mean? Or Meecham?” She felt this Joshua who had suddenly turned heroic was half a stranger.
“Buck will be busy running the inn. Meecham, I hope, will marry Margaret and buy the Pilchener house from me. He really is interested in settling here. I made an offer on Pilchener’s estate.”
“I know.”
He looked a question. She continued, “You’re not the only one who was trying to catch Johnnie. Where is Meecham going to get money to buy the house?”
“Lady Margaret’s dot is generous enough to permit it—if she’ll have him. I rather think she will. She wants to marry, and Paul is a good fellow. It would lighten my mortgage payments somewhat. I invited her here on this occasion hoping the two would be attracted. I believe my simple stratagem worked. We’ll be a little pinched for a while with mortgage payments, but it will be worth it. Between Pilchener’s place, the Abbey, and our inn, we’ll be the largest landowners in the county.”
Esther, like any clever lady, honed in on the most significant word in his speech. “Our inn, Josh?”
“To be precise, the inn belonging to the Lowden Investment Company. I don’t think we should sell it after all, if it’s making three thousand per annum.”
“I’m only Queen of the May, not a royal highness! When did I become we!”
He reached for her fingers and squeezed them. “It has been a slow transformation. I believe the final fusion occurred when I saw Johnnie holding that gun to your back. I knew that if anything happened to you, it would be as if a part of myself died, too. Why did you do it?” His voice rose in frustration, but he quickly damped it back down to ardor. “I shouldn’t ask. I can understand the allure of danger well enough.”
Esther waited, and when he said no
more, she said, “Perhaps if you could let off arguing about my calling—”
“I have no objection to your being the mistress of Heath Abbey. That is the calling I have in mind.”
She waited. There was passion in his eyes and voice, but it had not yet extended to other parts of his body. “I see,” she said unhelpfully.
Joshua studied her for acceptance. “I know you have a fancy for more romantic gentlemen. I daresay I seem a dull old farmer to you, but now that you’ve had a taste of the other side of Captain Johnnie—”
A dreamy look possessed her. It was the other side of Joshua that caused it—that dashing side that enjoyed donning a mask and cape and riding into the dark danger of the heath. But when she answered, she said, “I wonder who my Captain Johnnie was, the one who kissed me on the heath.”
“Kissed you! You didn’t tell me that!”
“Did I not? It happened when I was with Beau and Cathy. Some friend of his, I am convinced. Probably a footman from the Black Knight.”
“And you let him!”
“How could I stop a full-grown man?” she said innocently.
Joshua took the hint and pulled her into his arms for a satisfyingly violent kiss that raised a memory of that kiss on the heath. Behind closed eyes she imagined the starry sky. The strong arms crushing her were not the arms of a farmer but a demanding lover. His passion was hot and grew more fevered as she returned the pressure of his embrace.
There was a romantic hiding in Joshua, as there was a dullard in the real Captain Johnnie, who could be satisfied with the simpleminded, irritating Cathy Barker for his lover. Esther encouraged the Scamp in Joshua, till propriety and fatigue brought it to a halt.
“We’ll discuss this further tomorrow,” she said primly.
Josh grazed a finger possessively along her cheek, while his dark eyes smiled lazily into hers. “It will take a deal of discussion, but the important matter is settled, Mrs. Ramsay. You and your aunt can discuss gowns and dates and menus, but do it quickly. I want my wife here, where I can keep an eye on her.”
Then he closed his eyes and kissed her again.
Copyright © 1989 by Joan Smith
Originally published by Fawcett Crest (ISBN 978-0449216101)
Electronically published in 2015 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.
