Martha didn’t pull away. She let him hold her. They stayed that way until footsteps and voices came back over the pasture. Jumping up, they dusted themselves off and Johns helped Martha pull straw out of her red, curly hair.
Once they knew Richards and Michael were only a few feet from the barn, Johns went outside to talk with the two men and Martha collected her crated pets still buried in the hay.
“What happened to you?” Detective Richards asked Johns when he got close enough to see the Chief.
“Mrs. Littleword whacked me on the head thinking I was one of the men you gave chase to across the field. Any luck?”
“No. They made it into the woods over there.” Michael pointed to the tree line in the distance. The two men were soaked to the bone.
“Come on, let’s get indoors,” Johns said. “Mum’s probably got a fire going. Dry you both out and then we need to get off to Nottingham.”
Johns banged on the old oak door to his home and yelled, “Mum, it’s me. Let us in! It’s all clear!”
Soon they heard the grating of metal on metal and the door swung open to reveal Polly holding a shotgun and wearing a holster with an old pistol from the early twentieth century.
“Loaded for bear?” Martha asked Polly casually as she walked past carrying her crated pets and followed by the three men all glancing nervously at the grey-haired woman wielding the firearms.
“Damn right! It’s about time you got here, Merriam. I’ve been pacing this place half out of my mind.”
Johns knew his mother would have enjoyed shooting anyone who broke into her home, but she was getting on in years and he didn’t want her to hurt herself trying to kill an intruder. Plus, it was against the law to have any weapon you intend to use to hurt another person. He needed to discretely retrieve the firearms after she cooled off.
“They’re gone, Mum, but I don’t want you staying here tonight. I have you, Mrs. Littleword and Mrs. Ryes nice accommodations over at Healy House.”
Polly slammed her shotgun down on the long, oak table, giving everyone in the room a jolt. With a steely stare she said, “If you think I’m leaving my brewery and chickens so that half the country can lay their thieving hands on my stock and drink my beer, you’ve got another think coming.”
“Your mother is right. We aren’t running. Better to stay here and shoot anyone who comes near. Sends the right kind of message,” Martha said munching on one of the breakfast biscuits leftover from breakfast. “Do you have any jam, Polly? I’m starving.”
Polly’s expression as she handed Martha the jam pot spoke volumes. “You’re my kind of person, Littleword. I think you and I can get on just fine.” Turning to her son, she said, “Merriam, I’m staying here tonight and so is Mrs. Littleword. If Mrs. Ryes would like to stay, she’s welcome, too.”
Martha swallowed the contents of her mouth and said, “Polly, call me Martha.”
Polly nodded assertively and announced to the assemblage. “Martha, and I will be staying here tonight. No arguments.”
Johns knew when it would take an act of God to change his mother’s mind so he sighed resignedly and told Sergeant Endicott and Detective Richards to thaw out in front of the lovely old inglenook fireplace where a friendly fire crackled and popped.
After the men were settled with warm cups of tea, Johns returned to the reason they were here in the first place.
“Mum, what did you see down by the river?” he asked.
She inhaled and let out a big sigh. “Three narrowboats nestled against the embankment on our side of the river. It was the Romani people. They didn’t see me. It was when I was coming back to the farm I saw the other two men snooping about the barns. I was quick and stayed low letting myself in through the back. Got the doors all locked, loaded the shotgun and found your grandfather’s old military pistol and waited for you to get here.”
“I’m glad you’re safe. You did the right thing by calling and not shooting them yourself. Detective Richards and I will pay a visit to our water traveler friends. I’ll let them know the eggs were a gift, but no more helping themselves to our provisions. Are you sure you still want to have your dinner party here tonight?”
“Absolutely, I do. Should be starting about 7:00 o’clock. Please be back in time Merriam.”
“I’ll try, but I think I’ll leave Sergeant Endicott with you. I’ll feel better if someone stays here for protection.”
“That’s fine, better to hold down the fort,” Polly said with keenness in her expression. “Never know what might crawl out and come knocking about.”
“Have it your way, but stay close to the house and don’t leave unless you take precautions,” Johns said.
He left his mother and Martha chatting and laughing happily about the time Martha shot her brother “accidentally” with a pellet gun.
“Michael, I’m leaving you here. Get comfortable and I’ll have my mother bring you some of my clothes to change into. She won’t budge from this house so I need to know she is safe.”
He saw the disappointment on the young Sergeants’ face. “I’ll make sure to bring you some Peri-Peri chicken from Nandos. Come on Richards, let’s get to Nottingham, but before we go, we’re going to check-in on the Rossar-mescro family down below the farm. They’ve made themselves comfortable on the Calder. Shouldn’t take us long to drive there.”
Though it wasn’t the time or the place to talk any further with Martha, he still wanted to be alone with her one more time before he left. Their kiss was difficult to forget. He knew by the conversation the two women were having, she’d won Polly over. Not an easy task for him most days, but Martha being who she was would easily charm his mother. He tried to catch her eye and when that didn’t work, he said, “Mrs. Littleword, would you like some help putting your car in the barn?”
Martha smiled, “Actually I would like to take my pets to a friend in the village. Her name is Lillian Cadmen. They’ll be happier there. They’re used to being indoors and sleeping with someone.”
“Bring them indoors,” Polly said with a wave of her hand indicating she didn’t mind. “I’ve had everything living in this house at some point or other. Dogs, cats, a rabbit named Ernest, two parakeets and my favorite, a wee pig, answering to the name of Cuddles. The pig was the cleanest and the smartest of all, including the humans I’ve housed.”
“Gus and Vera will probably be better off at Lillian’s because of your chickens, but I’d like to keep Amos close by while she’s getting over her injuries. She’s a good dog,” Martha said. “I’ll call Lillian and drop them off on the way through the village on my way to Healy.”
“Why don’t you stay here?” Polly asked. “Call Helen and have her come over here. We’ll have fun cooking together.”
“That’s not a bad idea. We could go together to the village and pick up what we need for the dinner. I’ll call Helen and tell her to come back. With Sergeant Endicott here, we are in safe hands.”
“Be careful,” Johns said. “You take Endicott where ever you go.”
“We will. I’m taking the gun,” Polly said.
“No, you’re not.”
Johns turned to Sergeant Endicott. “If they leave, go with them. Hide the guns. Mum may try and use them. Not a good idea.”
Johns and Detective Richards left the house to head down to the Calder for a conversation with the Romani while Polly and Martha created a shopping list. Polly didn’t believe in canceling a dinner party because of a slight threat of skulking Russian hit-men. With a disgruntled Endicott in tow, they were off to deliver the cats then to the market to buy ingredients for jambalaya and hushpuppies. The evening festivities were shaping up to be spicy and possibly a bit hot to handle.
Chapter 16
TUCKED UP IN A SUNNY room strewn with toys from multiple generations of Cousins and covered in a faded, toile wallpaper portraying frolicking animals from nursery rhymes and fairy tales, Emerson sat playing on an up-to-date toy, a Nintendo DS. He was trying desperately to defeat a tr
oll and make it to the next level of the game.
A knock on the door and a cheerful greeting announced Celine’s arrival with the wonderful lunch tray heaped with fancy treats and sandwiches from Senior Agosto’s confectionary repertoire.
The child, delighted, scrambled off his daybed and bounced across the room to the diminutive table and chairs that served as the nursery’s dining facilities. Celine reminded him about washing his hands and with only a small grumble, he complied.
“I think I’ve almost made it to the eighth level, Celine,” Emerson said as he sat down to begin munching on a delicate sandwich of cucumbers and cream cheese already prepared for him on his plate.
“Even though it’s your free day, you'd better not be ignoring your Latin homework, Emmy?” Celine said with an eyebrow slightly arched to show she would know if he tried to fudge on the answer.
“Oh, it’s so boring! If I lived like Tallant on one of the boats down in the river, I wouldn’t need to know stupid Latin.”
Emerson reached for another sandwich.
Celine tapped his outstretched hand and pointed to his napkin. “You need to wipe the corners of your mouth and politely ask if you may have another sandwich.”
Emerson pursed his lips and sighed. Constant attention to his manners took all the fun out of life and only increased his desire to be free and live like the gypsy boy, Tallant.
“Besides,” Celine said, “you need to tell me who this Tallant person is before you start on another sandwich.”
“He’s my friend. I met him out by the garden where Senior Agosto keeps his plants. We built a fort in one of the big trees down by the place where Mr. Chattersworth is making his fox trap. Tallant doesn’t like the idea of us catching the fox. He says it should be free to be what God made him to be.”
Celine studied the child and laid another sandwich on his plate receiving a grin from him for her good deed.
“Emmy, I would like to meet Tallant before you play again and I think Mr. Cousins would be interested as well in your new playmate. Why don’t you invite him to the nursery for tea? We’ll make a special time of it. No more playing down by the water or so far away from the house until I’ve met him. Okay?”
The child shrugged and said, “Sure, Celine.”
Thinking about the “special time of it,” he gave her a big smile and begged, “Can we have crisps and a lemon cake if he comes?”
The nanny laughed, knowing she would not begrudge him his childish whim. “Yes. A lemon cake, crisps and maybe ice cream. What a nutritious meal. But only if you do as I say, and bring Tallant to meet me and your Uncle Piers.”
“It’s a deal,” Emerson said offering his small hand for Celine to seal the arrangement. The two diners, nanny and ward, gave each other a firm handshake and continued to enjoy their cozy tea as the sky outside took on billowy clouds and rain tapped gently on the nursery windows. They paid it no attention for the storm was no competition for the lightness and tastiness of a Senior Agosto custard tart topped with world finest Cornish clotted cream.
Chapter 17
SAM BERRY SAT MISERABLY HUNCHED over in the drizzling rain trying to remember why he’d ever been interested in Penny Cartwright in the first place. For at least a year, he thought she was the woman of his dreams, but she was making his life difficult with her constant texting and hints at marriage.
Since Sam’s personal makeover, both physical and career-wise, Penny was pushing him to settle down. He was only eighteen and for a while it was great, but recently he’d seen Piers Cousins’ new housekeeper, Celine Rupert, and thoughts of Penny were pushed out the door like yesterday’s dust bunnies.
Celine was above and beyond his wildest dreams of a woman. Beautiful, long blonde hair almost the color of cream, she must have been a ballet dancer the way she held herself and practically floated across the floor.
He’d seen her one day when Chief Johns asked him to take papers out to Healy House to give to Mr. Cousins. Celine answered the door. Sam found it difficult to find his tongue, dislodge it from the roof of his mouth, and hand over the papers to her. He would never forget how she smiled at him and said, “Thank you. I’ll see he gets these.”
Her voice was melodious. Like a ray of glorious sunshine, she floated back inside and was gone as the door solidly shut in his mooning face. He had been able to think about nothing else and Penny’s pestering was extremely irksome with this new love in his life.
As the rain pattered on his umbrella, Sam checked his watch. It was almost lunchtime. His stomach was always hungry and his Aunt Harriet’s mince pies were some of the best made in the village. With visions of meat pies filling his head, he wished the soccer players would wrap up their game and come over to collect their things.
Finally, three young boys in their mid teens ran over to wipe off their faces and drink from their water bottles. Sam recognized them to be from his school but a few years behind him. He walked over and they nodded an acknowledgement.
“Hey, it’s a copper. What you doin’ Berry? Playing Cops and Robbers?” one boy gibed. Sam knew his name was Jeremy. The rest of the boys laughed and gawked at the police recruit.
“Yeah, Sam, what happened to your hair? I didn’t recognize you with just your face,” another pimple-faced boy said.
Sam, unperturbed by what he believed were the humorless comments of youngsters, affected a bored expression. “You seen anybody hanging around here lately that looks smarter than you muppets?”
The boys scowled at Sam’s sarcasm and thought for a moment. It was Jeremy who spoke up first.
“Nah. I haven’t seen anyone.”
“So many people use the tow paths to get about,” the boy with the acne said.
“Let me know if you see any rough types coming or going, would you? Stay away from them. They’re trouble,” Sam said.
The boys exchanged sullen but wary glances and ran off to finish their game in the mud and water-soaked field. They yelled a few more taunts back at Sam who good-naturedly shook his head and wondered at what was becoming of today’s youth.
Chapter 18
“WHAT ARE YOU STUDYING, ALISTAIR?” Perigrine asked, coming through the back door to their office carrying his shopping from Murdock’s Grocery. Filled with things for tonight’s dinner at Polly’s, the bags made a heavy clunking sound once settled on the kitchen counter. Perigrine began to pull out the different items and put them away.
Finished, he gave Alistair another opportunity to answer but nothing came. Finally, though still intently studying his laptop’s screen, Alistair gave a half-hearted hello to Perigrine’s earlier entrance.
The storm brewing all morning was picking up energy. Rain fell in torrents accompanied by another loud round of thunder grumbling over the village trying to rattle windows and fiddle with the nerves of the good inhabitants of Marsden-Lacey.
Perigrine, not typically bothered by a stormy day, was feeling unusually edgy and discontented. All morning, after their visit to Johns’ farm, a restless feeling that things were building to a head plagued him. His mind searched for what it was as he finished putting away groceries, but the exact location of his uneasiness eluded him.
“Alistair?” he asked, raising his voice to dispel the shadowy thoughts lurking in the crevices of his consciousness and to rouse Al from his deep investigation of the internet.
“Something tells me you’ve been productive at the constabulary. How did your conversation with the Chief go?”
With a quick swivel of his office chair so he was facing Perigrine dead on, Alistair’s face expressed a suppressed excitement.
“What is it?” Perigrine asked. His irritation with Alistair’s muteness was growing each silent second.
“Those boats…if I’m right, P., may hold the key to one of the greatest treasure finds of the twenty-first century. Unfortunately, I think we’ve some rough competition for the bag.”
Holding a can of dog food half-way between heaven and the table below, Perigrine’s face reg
istered his lack of understanding. “What boats are you talking about?”
“The gypsy boats.”
Alistair took a deep breath and slowly let it out. P.’s brain ran over the last few days’ accumulated events. All morning, his intuition told him something was about to burst over Marsden-Lacey. Things were beginning to fall into place. Sitting down in his favorite Bergere chair, he asked, “What’s on the internet you’re so engrossed in?”
“That, my friend, is how I know it’s something to do with the boats. It’s the letter the Rossar-mescros brought to Helen Ryes. The author was an Imperial Guard of the Russian royal family, or the late Romanovs.”
Alistair swirled back around to face the computer screen. “From what I can tell by reading it, he had four items belonging to Her Imperial Majesty, the Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna, which he wished to see her sister, Her Majesty Queen Alexandra, accept and hold until they were returned to the Dowager Empress.” Alistair stopped and thought for a moment.
“The list at the bottom is also in Russian and that’s where it gets interesting. They are: Empire, Blue Hen, Cherub, Mauve. Ring any bells?” Alistair asked with a huge smile from ear to ear.
Perigrine thought for a moment. Like a glorious dawn, the light filtered in to those places in his mind where dark thoughts had flickered all day. “But there are only three boats. Which one is missing?”
“Mauve,” Alistair answered. Taking a deep breath, he turned to Perigrine. “I think it was too incredible for either of us to actually let our minds go there and besides, the names are so indistinct, but they match up perfectly.”
Alistair’s enthusiasm was growing on Perigrine. The fabulous truth was dawning on him as well. Normally, he liked to stay grounded emotionally, but it was like someone was blowing up a balloon in his stomach and, like it or not, he was beginning to become buoyant.
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