The Fat Badger Society (Drusilla Davanish Mysteries Book 2)

by Dawn Harris

  Back at the hotel, discovering my aunt and uncle had gone out, I gave way to the excitement that had welled up inside me on the drive back to the hotel, dancing round and round our private sitting room until I ran out of breath and collapsed into a chair. To be given this chance was beyond anything I could have imagined, for women rarely had any influence in a war. And I wished, so much, that my father could have known.

  I couldn’t wait to get started, and when I got back to Westfleet I intended to write every fact I’d learnt today onto large sheets of paper and pin them to my workroom wall, so that all the evidence could be seen at a glance, as I had done when working with my father. When looking into a mysterious death involving Island families, we refused to condemn any man without cast-iron proof. This was what Mr. Pitt needed now. Evidence that proved either Mr. Hamerton’s guilt, or his innocence. And it was my job to find it.

  Determined nothing would be forgotten, I took a sheet of paper from the desk, wrote down everything Mr. Pitt had told me concerning Mr. Hamerton, and considered each fact one by one. Why had he arrived late at Ashton Grange on the day of the attempted assassination? Did his sister’s husband being close to Robespierre have any real significance? But what puzzled me most was the murder of the aristocrat who’d knocked down Mrs. Hamerton. Or rather Mr. Hamerton’s alibi. Had he really been out observing moths at that time of night? If he came in at three in the morning, having committed a murder, why come up with such a pitiful excuse?

  Either it was the truth, or he had failed to think up an alibi beforehand, not expecting anyone to see him arriving home in the middle of the night. And why had he gone to a meeting of the London Corresponding Society? The opinion I’d gained of Mr. Hamerton during our short acquaintance, was that he rarely acted on impulse.

  I was still thinking about it all when my aunt and uncle returned. Naturally they asked what Mr. Pitt had wanted, and thankfully, his interest in my father’s book seemed to satisfy them. Fortunately, Aunt Thirza was more curious about the interior decoration and furnishings in Downing Street than in what Mr. Pitt had said.

  She went on to talk about Mr. Hamerton, expressing her delight that he’d agreed to come back to Westfleet with us. It wasn’t difficult to guess what she was leading up to, as she was forever trying to find me a husband. ‘He may not be particularly handsome,’ she said, with an encouraging smile, ‘but he is good-tempered, sensible and genteel. His fortune is more than respectable, and he is only a very little shorter than you are.’

  I burst out laughing. ‘He’s coming to the Island to decide if he wishes to live there, not to find a wife.’

  ‘Well, there’s nothing to stop him doing both.’

  ‘Very true, but Mr Hamerton is not at all in my style, Aunt. He’s perfectly pleasant, but I have no desire to marry him.’

  My uncle winked at me and suggested to his wife, ‘Drusilla might do better to consider Mr East, my dear. He’s a very handsome fellow. Good natured too.’

  My aunt retorted, ‘Mr Hamerton has the kinder disposition. And that’s most important in a marriage.’

  ‘Well, there’s a dilemma for you, Drusilla,’ my uncle declared jovially. ‘Your aunt wishes you to marry Mr Hamerton, and I favour Mr. East. Now, which is it to be?’

  I laughed. ‘I doubt I shall ever marry.’ I had decided that years ago. The truth was I enjoyed being in control of my life, and my estates. If I married that would change. Westfleet and my estates would belong to my husband, as would my entire fortune. That was the law. And what man would allow me the freedom I enjoyed now? Domesticity was not for me. I liked children, but detested the small talk married woman indulged in.

  ‘You must marry someone,’ my aunt insisted.

  ‘Why must I?’

  She floundered. ‘Well --- I mean ---- there’s your estate----’

  ‘I’ve looked after that since father died. And helped him with it since I was twelve.’

  ‘What if something went seriously wrong?’

  ‘I would deal with it.’

  My uncle folded his arms, so clearly enjoying the situation that my aunt burst out, ‘It’s not funny, Charles. Drusilla is twenty-seven. She should have married years ago.’

  ‘In my opinion, my dear,’ he said, taking his life in his hands, ‘Drusilla is very well able to decide for herself what she wants.’

  ‘Oh – really,’ she exploded. ‘You are quite ---- impossible.’

  ‘You mustn’t worry about me,’ I said, attempting to calm her down. For I knew she only had my best interests at heart.

  ‘But I do worry, Drusilla.’

  ‘Yes, I know, but I’m perfectly happy as I am.’ She would never understand how I felt, and if she discovered I was working for Mr. Pitt it would terrify her. Even my easy-going uncle would be concerned for my safety, whereas I saw no real danger, for Mr. Hamerton could not possibly know what I was doing.

  Later Mr. Reevers and Mr. East came to take their leave of us, as they were setting off for the Isle of Wight first thing in the morning. Talking over the events of the ball, Mr. East assured me I had been the most beautiful woman there.

  ‘I would be flattered,’ I said, tongue-in-cheek, ‘if I hadn’t overheard you saying much the same thing to that dark-haired beauty you danced with last night.’

  ‘Did you?’ Mr East was aghast. ‘Are you quite sure?’

  ‘Why – don’t you remember?’ I teased.

  Mr Reevers, enjoying his friend’s discomfort, announced, ‘You must be slipping, Toby.’

  ‘By heaven, you’re right. I must be.’ He humbly begged my forgiveness, then observing Mr. Reevers was still grinning, declared, ‘At least I had the sense not to say it to that buck-toothed frosty-faced female you introduced me to.’

  Amused, I intervened, ‘You asked her to dance, though.’

  ‘Didn’t have much choice, did I? You should see my poor toes. They’re black and blue. Just as well we don’t have to walk to Portsmouth.’

  At a glance from Mr. Reevers, Mr. East asked my aunt and uncle what they thought of the suspension of Habeas Corpus and the arrests of those involved in Corresponding Societies. Both began to talk at once, enabling Mr. Reevers to quietly draw me over to the window.

  ‘You did that on purpose,’ I accused.

  He grinned at me. ‘I needed to keep them occupied for a minute or two.’

  'Did you indeed? I don’t see why.’

  'Don’t you?’ he murmured. 'I wanted to speak to you alone, of course.’

  Words that made me catch my breath. ‘You really are impossible.’

  'I knew you would understand. It concerns Hamerton. Should you have good reason to believe he is this Mr. Brown the French expect so much of, you must get word to me or Toby at Norton House immediately. If he realises you have found him out he won’t hesitate to kill you.’ Lowering his voice even further, he urged, ‘Whatever happens, please do not take any unnecessary risks.’ I gave him the answer he sought, certain I would be able to keep my word. Quite forgetting, in that moment, that there are no certainties in life.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Mr. Reevers looked as if he wished to say something more, but the arrival of Mr. Hamerton from Windsor prevented any further private conversation. Greetings were exchanged, Mr. Hamerton took a seat, accepted a glass of wine, and in answer to my aunt’s concerned query, assured her he hadn’t seen a sign of a highwayman on his journey. He was eager to hear all the details of the ball and when that subject had been exhausted, Mr. Reevers asked if he was looking forward to visiting the Isle of Wight.

  ‘I am. Very much. When I was a boy we used to stay with a great aunt who lived near Cowes. Deaf as a post she was. Kept calling me Tom. Told her my name was John, but it didn’t make a jot of difference. Couldn’t hear me, you see. She was rolling in money by all accounts, and Mama said if I was polite and kind to her she might leave us some of it. She never did, of course.’ Reminiscences that made us all smile.

  I inquired, 'When were you last on the
Island?’

  ‘Oh, about twenty years ago. I liked it then, and when I married, my wife and I talked about visiting, with a view to moving there. But she was afraid of the sea crossing.’ He was sitting immediately to my left and he turned to look at me, his brown eyes softening. 'Eventually she said that, with me at her side, she could brave anything. We planned to go after our child was born, but it wasn’t to be. She died a few weeks later.’

  'I am so very sorry, Mr Hamerton,’ I murmured. A sentiment in which everyone joined.

  'Thank you. You are all very kind.’ He drank a little wine and put his glass down on a table. ‘The nobleman who drove the carriage that knocked her down came to see me the day after the accident. The poor man was greatly distressed. It seems my wife walked straight out in front of him, as if her mind was on something else. He said everything I would expect of such a gentleman. That was two years ago, but it seems like yesterday to me.’

  No-one quite knew what to say and Mr Reevers broke the silence by asking if he still had relatives on the Island. Mr. Hamerton shook his head. ‘Not now, unfortunately, but I should like to see if the place suits me. I have a feeling that it will.’ Turning to me he asked about the arrangements for the journey. ‘Do you wish me to ride or-------’

  ‘I should prefer that, Mr. Hamerton,’ Aunt Thirza broke in. ‘An extra gentleman riding by the carriage will make any highwayman think twice about accosting us.’ My aunt had an obsession regarding highwaymen.

  ‘I shall be most happy to oblige, ma’am.’ Glancing at the gentlemen he inquired, ‘Talking of rogues, who were those two men who tried to assassinate the King?’

  ‘We haven’t been able to identify them yet,’ Mr. East told him, and remarked in his pleasant way, ‘Speaking of that day, why were you so late? I can’t believe you mistook the time, and people do not generally keep the King waiting.’

  I recalled Mr. Hamerton’s embarrassment when asked that question on the day itself, but he answered easily enough now.

  ‘Oh that.’ Grimacing, he explained, ‘Well, if you must know, I was assisting a lady in distress. Or so I thought. I always took the short cut along the bridleway when I walked to Ashton Grange, and I’d gone about half way when I came across a lady sitting on a log under a tree. She felt faint and shivery and begged me to help her, so naturally I took off my coat and put it round her shoulders.’

  Mr East grinned. ‘Pretty, was she?’

  ‘Stunning,’ he owned. ‘She soon recovered and went on her way. But when I put my coat back on I realised the lady was not what she seemed. All my money had gone, and I went in search of a constable.’

  ‘Did you lose much?’ inquired Mr Reevers sympathetically.

  ‘A considerable sum, I regret to say.’ My uncle asked if he had found a constable. ‘Not then. And, later, I decided not to bother. The woman had long gone. I should have explained at the time, but the fact is I felt such a fool.’

  Aunt Thirza was full of sympathy and setting the conversation in another direction, asked if he had always lived in Windsor. He shook his head. ‘I was brought up in Kensington.’

  ‘But you have travelled, I’m sure.’

  ‘Only on the Continent, ma’am. That experience made me thankful I was English, I can tell you. At least we can complain about our government without being arrested and guillotined.’

  Mr. East eyed him lazily. ‘True, but if these corresponding societies get their way that could happen here too.’

  ‘If,’ I said, ‘something was done about the electoral system, the corresponding societies would have nothing to complain about. I mean, look what happens in Dittistone.’ Dittistone was about four miles from Westfleet. ‘It’s a small place, yet it is represented by two members of parliament. And they are elected through the votes of just four people. Whereas towns like Manchester and Birmingham have no representation at all. And that cannot be right.’

  A long and lively discussion ensued, and during a slight lull Mr. Reevers casually remarked, ‘You haven’t said much, Hamerton. What’s your opinion on electoral reform? Are you in favour? Should every working man be given the vote?’

  Taking a pretty enamelled snuff box from his pocket, Mr. Hamerton helped himself to a good pinch of the contents before answering. ‘I agree something ought to be done, but in my view, this isn’t the right time. It seems to me people don’t want a lot of unrest when we’re trying to beat the French.’

  ‘Mr. Hamerton is right,’ Aunt Thirza announced firmly.

  ‘Don’t know about that, ma’am. Might not be right. Just my opinion, that’s all.’

  Mr. Reevers and Mr. East left shortly afterwards and as we were going to the theatre that evening, we all hurried off to change for dinner.

  Two days later we left for Portsmouth. Mudd drove our carriage, my uncle and Mr. Hamerton rode beside it, with the servants following in the second carriage. It was an uneventful trip, without any sign of highwaymen, which my aunt still feared despite my pointing out to her that the road to Portsmouth being a busy one, daylight robbery was rather unlikely.

  I’d hoped for a peaceful journey, but we had barely left Windsor when Aunt Thirza demanded to know what I was doing about finding a butler to replace Jeffel. ‘I suppose you haven’t even thought about it and----‘

  ‘I shall give Luffe a chance,’ I said, for I had indeed thought about it.

  ‘Luffe?’ she exclaimed in scathing tones, dismissing the idea with a toss of her head. ‘That’s ridiculous. He’s far too young. You need someone who knows the work.’

  ‘He does know it.’ I liked Robert Luffe. He had been at Westfleet for less than a year, assisting Jeffel. An intelligent young man of twenty-four, he had a pleasant manner, an upright bearing, spoke well, and was a fast learner.

  ‘He makes mistakes,’ she protested.

  ‘But never the same one twice. In any case, my mind is made up.’

  She grumbled that no-one ever took any notice of her, that the house would undoubtedly go to rack and ruin, and reminded me of several other occasions when I had ignored her advice, all of which would have turned out right if I’d only listened to her. My uncle and Mr. Hamerton, riding beside the carriage, missed it all, and I wished to heaven I was with them.

  When she eventually ran out of complaints, I closed my eyes, pretending to doze, while I thought of what Mr. Pitt had said about Mr. Hamerton. Before that meeting I had seen nothing to object to in that kindly, inoffensive, slightly plump gentleman.

  Indeed, Aunt Thirza’s suggestion that he could protect us from highwaymen on the journey home had made me smile, for as the King had observed, no-one looked less like a bodyguard. Now I had to view him in quite a different light. Mr. Pitt said spies often appeared to be very ordinary. And I knew no-one more ordinary than Mr. Hamerton.

  I was still excited at being given the opportunity to do something, however small, to help beat the French, but I realised it was unlikely to be easy. Mr. Pitt believed Mr. Hamerton would give himself away. But would he? No man could seem more innocuous than him, which meant that if he was a spy, he was also very clever. Someone who would watch what he said all the time. What if I made a mistake? What if he was a spy and I decided he wasn’t?

  This wasn’t at all like assisting my father with his book. The people we had investigated then were long dead, and a blunder on my part put no-one in danger. But this was happening now and was a matter of life and death. It was vital I did not make a mistake.

  On the journey home Mr. Hamerton assisted my aunt and myself in and out of carriages, quietly assuring we received good service at the inns where we stopped to eat, and to change horses. Still, I reminded myself, a French spy could be as polite as anyone else.

  We reached the “George” Inn at Portsmouth around six, and after being shown to comfortable bedchambers, were soon enjoying an excellent dinner. At night, the noise of revellers and passing vehicles usually kept me awake, but the long journey over roads that left much to be desired, while my aunt droned on end
lessly, had made me so tired I didn’t hear a thing.

  The boat for Cowes left early in the morning and a favourable wind made for a fast crossing. The sight of the Island’s church spires rising from those beautiful green hills filled my heart with joy. Elation that intensified on arriving in Cowes, for we would soon be home. We hired two chaises, one for my aunt and Mr. Hamerton, who offered to escort her; the other for the servants. While my uncle and I hired riding horses, for I could not bear to be cooped up another minute.

  Riding home, I revelled in the fresh sea air, the glory of the Downs, and finally in the magnificence of Westfleet Manor. The sight of that mellow stone, the oaks lining the drive, and the mullioned windows thrown open, filled me with a peace and contentment I never experienced anywhere else.

  As we rode up to the house servants rushed out to greet us, their happy smiles turning to sadness as they expressed their great sorrow at Jeffel’s death. I answered their questions as best I could, and told them I owed my life to Jeffel.

  When I explained my aunt was returning by carriage with a guest who was to stay with us, and that they might be some time yet, cook, who had left her kitchen to welcome us, assured me, ‘Don’t you worry about that, my lady. I’ll see everything is just as you like it.’ And she hurried back to the kitchen, a broad smile on her face.

  The other servants returned to their duties and I turned towards the open front door. From here I could see into the hall, and I hesitated. For, I was so accustomed to Jeffel being there when I came home, even if I had only been out for an hour or two.

  My uncle took my arm and urged gruffly, ‘Come on, my dear. Better to get it over with.’ When we walked in, the sheer emptiness, the lack of Jeffel’s cheerful, welcoming presence, brought a lump to my throat.

  As I stood there, unable to speak, my housekeeper came bustling in, assuring me everything was in order. Which I did not doubt, for despite having just turned sixty, she had the energy of someone twenty years younger. ‘Everyone was so shocked about Mr. Jeffel, my lady. Mrs Tanfield brought your letter over to Westfleet the very day it arrived.’