The Fat Badger Society (Drusilla Davanish Mysteries Book 2)

by Dawn Harris

  He blinked, understandably a little bewildered. ‘His favourite was a lively chestnut. Very fond of it he was.’

  Barely able to breath, I asked, ‘Was your master a Mr. George Jenkins?’

  ‘Why – yes. Did you know him after all, my lady?’

  ‘No, but a friend of mine did.’

  I asked one or two more questions, but learned nothing more. After getting one of the other grooms to show Bridge his quarters, I walked back towards the house in a state of jubilation. Certain, that at long last, I’d found Septimus’s friend, George. Reaching the south lawn I had a sudden urge to cartwheel across it as I had as a child, and laughed to myself, thinking of what my aunt would say should she see me doing any such thing.

  I considered going to see Mrs Jenkins that instant, taking another groom with me. But quickly dismissed the idea. I preferred to take Mudd, and tomorrow morning would do as well. Surely, I thought, Mrs. Jenkins must know at least one of these Fat Badgers. I could hardly wait for tomorrow to come.

  Going into the workroom I was about to write down what Bridge had told me when my aunt suddenly stormed in, slamming the door behind her. ‘There you are, Drusilla,’ she remonstrated. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’

  I sighed, for although Aunt Thirza and I got on reasonably well much of the time, there were too many occasions like this one. Occasions I could do without. ‘Luffe always knows where I am.’

  She sniffed. ‘He was nowhere to be seen. You don’t realise what goes on in this house. The servants do just what they like, they’re rude and refuse to obey orders, and----’

  ‘Who wouldn’t obey an order?’ I cut in, for whenever she carried on in such a way, it was always one particular servant who had upset her.

  ‘Granger. I ordered him to cut down the tree outside my bedchamber window, and he refused point blank.’

  ‘Cut down the tree?’ I repeated in disbelief.

  ‘That wretched bird woke me at daybreak again. I didn’t get a wink of sleep after that. It can sing somewhere else. I told Granger I’d have him dismissed for insolence but----’

  That was the moment I lost my temper. I was so excited to have found George Jenkins, but still desperately anxious about many other things. I didn’t know if Mr. Hamerton was Mr. Brown, or how we were to stop the Fat Badgers attempting to assassinate the King in August, I was worried sick about Richard and his friendship with Mr. Hamerton, and I did not want to go to the Uptons on Saturday. And my aunt was making a fuss about a mere blackbird.

  I brought my fist down onto the desk in front of me with such a bang she jumped. ‘You did what?’ She blinked at me in surprise, as if she had every right to have my servants dismissed. ‘Granger is the best head gardener on the Island, and he knows better than to cut down one of my trees without my permission.’

  She had been angry before, but my furious reaction made her splutter, ‘How dare you speak to me like that.’

  ‘Like what, Aunt?’ Ice dripped off every clipped syllable, for I was so enraged I could cheerfully have thrown the ink standish at her.

  ‘As if I was of less consequence that a mere servant. I won’t have it.’

  ‘And I won’t have you upsetting my servants. This is my house, Aunt. Something you forget when it suits you. I give the orders here, and I will not have a tree I am particularly fond of, cut down. If a blackbird chooses to perch on one of the branches and sing its heart out at five in the morning, then in my opinion, you should enjoy the treat. That is my last word. Now, you must excuse me, I am rather busy.’

  She didn’t move, but stood staring at me, her bosom heaving with righteous indignation, as she tried to think of a hurtful response. It didn’t take her long to find one. ‘You forget we are under no obligation to remain at Westfleet. We could just as easily leave.’

  I shrugged. ‘Leave if you wish, Aunt.’

  ‘And who would act as chaperone?’

  ‘I doubt I should bother with one,’ I said airily, deliberately saying what I knew would shock her, for I was still boiling with anger.

  ‘You’d set the whole Island talking.’

  ‘More than likely, but I shan’t care for that.’

  ‘I believe you would do it too. Well, I shall tell Charles we are leaving.’ Swinging round on her heel, she stormed out of the room in far more of a fury than when she had entered it.

  Trembling with rage, I muttered one very rude word out loud, for I had promised myself time and again that I would not let Aunt Thirza provoke me into behaving in this undignified way. Thankfully, I could never stay angry for long, and within a few minutes I admitted to myself, somewhat ruefully, that if my uncle had complained of losing sleep because of this blackbird, I would have ordered Granger to cut down the tree at once. As I might also have done if my aunt had asked in a reasonable manner.

  I knew too that I would have to make the peace, for she would not, and as I sat gazing out of the window wishing there was some other way, I saw my uncle riding up the drive. I gave a long deep sigh, for I knew exactly what would happen now. Aunt Thirza would pour out the whole sorry episode to him, and after he had calmed her down, he would seek me out. I hated to see my uncle upset, as I knew he would be. And, sure enough, about half an hour later, he poked his head round the door and asked quietly, ‘Is it safe to come in?’

  I laughed. ‘I think so. I’ve had all traces of blood removed.’ He sat down beside me, and I admitted to him what I would not to my aunt. ‘I’m sorry, Uncle. I lost my temper.’

  ‘I know.’ He patted my hand in his understanding way. ‘Do you want us to leave, Drusilla?’

  ‘Of course I don’t,’ I murmured a little indistinctly, swallowing the lump rising in my throat. ‘That wasn’t my suggestion.’

  He nodded. ‘I didn’t think it was.’ And he went on in his thoughtful way, ‘I’m aware your aunt infuriates you at times Drusilla, but she doesn’t mean half of what she says. She’s run her own house for so long, it’s hard for her not to interfere here, especially as you’re so much younger. But I’ve made her promise she won’t do so in future.’

  I gazed at him in astonishment. ‘How did you manage that?’

  Chuckling, he said, ‘I shan’t tell you.’

  ‘Do you think she will keep to it?’

  ‘I hope so. At least for a time. She did admit to me that perhaps she had over-reacted, but don’t tell her I told you.’

  I smiled at him affectionately. ‘How is it you never lose your temper with anyone?’

  ‘Well, I tend to think it’s a waste of time,’ he said with a grin. How right he was, I thought. And once again, I swore I would keep calm the next time my aunt riled me.

  Her admission, through my uncle, that she might have over-reacted was the nearest to an apology I would ever get, and poor Granger would never get one, for she wouldn’t admit a fault to a mere servant. Whereas I, being anxious not to lose the best gardener on the Island, wasted no time in informing him, without criticising my aunt, that he’d acted quite properly, and all such orders were to be verified with me first.

  ‘That’s what I thought, my lady,’ he said righteously. Not unnaturally he was a little ruffled by the experience and I spent half an hour walking round the garden with him praising his efforts, leaving him in a much happier frame of mind.

  I was heading back to the house when I saw Mr. Reevers making his way towards me. He was smartly dressed in riding breeches and a pale blue coat, and my heart leapt at the sight of him. ‘I was passing and couldn’t resist calling in to see you,’ he murmured. ‘I thought you would wish to know that the agent following Hamerton when you were attacked, lost sight of him in the mist. Toby was absolutely furious.’

  It was a pity, but as I said, such things happened. ‘In all fairness the mist was very thick in places.’ Suggesting we sit on a nearby garden seat, I asked, ‘How is Mr. East? I haven’t seen him lately.’

  His eyes began to dance. ‘That, I suspect, is entirely due to a certain Miss Charlotte Adam
s.’

  ‘Really?’ The name wasn’t familiar to me. ‘I don’t---

  ‘I doubt you’ll know her. The family has only been here two weeks. They have taken a house near Newport for the summer and we met them at a party a few days ago. She’s a lively dark-haired beauty of nineteen and Toby couldn’t take his eyes off her.’

  ‘Oh, I am pleased,’ I said happily.

  ‘So am I. That business with the Rothertons affected him badly at the time.’

  Recalling how Mr. East had cut Lord Rotherton dead at the ball in London, I asked, ‘Does Miss Adams return his interest, do you think?’

  He gave a hearty chuckle. ‘Judging by the way she was smiling up at him when they were dancing I think there will be wedding bells before the year is out.’

  ‘What about her father – does he approve?’

  ‘It appears so.’

  ‘It seems to be a day for good news,’ I said, and told him about Bridge and Mrs Jenkins. ‘I’ll call on her tomorrow morning.’ And added, ‘When I think of the time I wasted searching for Septimus’s friend George, and in the end I found him by sheer chance.’

  ‘That often happens, believe me. I only wish Toby and I could report some similar success, but our efforts have produced nothing of any significance so far.’

  We talked about Mrs. Jenkins in hopeful tones, then I told him how anxious I was about Richard. To which he merely raised his eyebrows at me, murmuring a trifle absently, ‘Oh?’

  Nettled by his lack of interest, I declared, ‘It may not seem important to you, but it is to me.’

  His eyes gleamed appreciatively. ‘Whatever affects you is of concern to me.’ I looked up at him, uncertain how to answer, and he said softly, ‘I thought you knew that.’

  There was a glow in his eyes I could not mistake, and being rather confused about my own feelings, I said nothing, and he went on, his voice retaining that caressing note, ‘Tell me why you are concerned about Richard.’

  ‘Well, for a start, Mr. Hamerton knows what’s worrying him.’ I explained about the slight hesitation and guarded reaction when I asked Mr. Hamerton if he knew what the problem was. ‘Why has Richard confided in a man he hardly knows?’ A question that only deepened the frown on Mr. Reevers’ brow. ‘And why hasn’t he been given a ship now he’s fit enough to return to sea? Surely the Navy needs every experienced officer it can get in this war?’

  ‘I would have thought so.’

  ‘You see, I’ve known Richard all my life and when he has a problem he does his best to resolve it. He never sits back and does nothing, as he seems to be doing now. Which makes me think it’s not possible for him to resolve himself. That the solution lies in the hands of other-----’ I stopped, seeing my groom riding towards the stables. ‘Mudd’s back,’ I said in surprise.

  ‘Shouldn’t he be?’

  ‘I did say I wouldn’t need him until this evening.’

  ‘Perhaps he was bored.’

  I smiled rather absently, as Mudd, having seen us, quickly dismounted, handed his horse to a stable boy to attend to, and hurried in our direction. When he reached us his eyes were full of excitement. ‘What is it, John? ‘I asked eagerly.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Mudd said, ‘My father already knew why Mr. Hamerton spoke to the Blackgang smugglers, my lady. It seems the gentleman wanted someone to take a letter to France. To Paris, my lady.’

  ‘Did he, by God?’ exclaimed Mr. Reevers. ‘Were any of them willing?’

  ‘My father didn’t know, sir.’ Mudd’s answers to our other questions soon made it clear that was all his father could tell us. ‘He wouldn’t have let on to anyone but you, my lady.’

  ‘Tell him I’m very much obliged, John,’ I said sincerely.

  He went back to his duties then, and I asked Mr. Reevers, ‘If Mr. Hamerton is Mr. Brown, and he wanted a letter taken to Paris, why didn’t he send one of the Fat Badgers?’

  ‘Perhaps none of them speak French. He couldn’t send anyone who didn’t. Whereas smugglers often know enough to get by, and they make perfect spies. They are used to dangerous situations, accustomed to keeping their mouths shut, and most will do anything for money. We use them and so do the French. But, whatever the reason, the plain fact is an innocent man does not communicate with the enemy in secret.’

  ‘No,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘You sound doubtful.’

  I gave a little shrug. ‘You can’t condemn him on that alone.’ I would not have done so when helping my father. ‘Everything we have against Mr. Hamerton is circumstantial. We don’t have any actual proof.’

  ‘Aren’t you forgetting that business on the cliff top?’

  ‘No, but he may have genuinely come to my rescue.’

  ‘Is that what you really think?’

  I hesitated, not knowing what I really believed. ‘I think it is possible. And in every other respect he appears to be a truly patriotic Englishman.’

  He broke into an indulgent smile. ‘In France, I curse the English as easily as any Frenchman. No-one could doubt my allegiance to the revolution, believe me.’

  Watching a moth land on a nearby stone, I mused over Mr. Hamerton’s interest in these delicate creatures, for it seemed so out of character for a French spy. But, I reasoned, even murderers might have a gentle side. ‘He hasn’t betrayed himself in any way at Westfleet. Not even one careless word.’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me. Top agents are extremely difficult to outwit. But you’re quite right. We can’t arrest him without proof that will stand up in court. And, as Hamerton will be well aware, no smuggler would ever admit taking a letter to Paris. Still, he’s bound to slip up at some point, and when he does, we must be ready for him.’

  I walked with him the short distance to the stables, and as we said goodbye, he murmured, ‘May I have the pleasure of driving you to Mrs. Tanfield’s party tomorrow?’

  ‘Thank you. I should like that.’

  Getting onto his horse he smiled. ‘So shall I.’ And he rode off down the drive.

  Needing time to think, I decided to go for a walk. Fluffy white clouds scudded across the sky, driven on a brisk wind, but I have always loved the feel of the wind blowing through my hair, and rarely bothered with a hat on solitary walks. Much to the disgust of my aunt.

  I climbed the steep path at the back of the orchard and on reaching the top, strolled along the Downs, barely aware of the sheep, the view, or the birds, my mind fixed on the problem of Mr. Hamerton. He was the perfect guest, easy to please, and he possessed excellent manners. He spoke of the bloodthirsty revolution raging in France with convincing loathing, appeared to disapprove of corresponding societies, and had seemed horrified at the assassination attempt in Windsor. But, as my father used to say, when gathering evidence for his book, most people were much what they seemed, but a few were not. And it wasn’t always easy to tell which was which.

  His interest in moths took him outside at night, but only into the garden, for I had watched him on several occasions now. Yet, he’d pointed a firearm at me during the cliff top attack when I’d got rid of one of my attackers and floored the other. And he’d asked Blackgang smugglers to take a letter to Paris. Incidents I thought about for a considerable time.

  Wandering slowly back, worrying about his rapidly growing friendship with Richard Tanfield, I sat for a moment on the seat placed close to the top of the steep path. From this beautiful spot, the whole of my property was laid out below and I could see everything that was going on. I loved this view, as my father had before me, and I often wondered if those who had lived at Westfleet before us, had come here to think about their problems.

  I hated to see Richard in such distress. He had been much more cheerful since Mr. Hamerton’s arrival, and was now teaching that gentleman how to sail. But a brief conversation I’d had with him yesterday told me his troubles had not gone away. I’d asked if he’d heard from the Admiralty yet, and he drew in his breath sharply, demanding in a rough, abrupt man
ner, what the devil I meant by that.

  Puzzled I said, ‘Only that they might have given you a ship. I mean they must need experienced naval officers in this war.’

  ‘Oh I see. Well, I haven’t heard a thing.’

  The bitterness in his voice alarmed me so much, I begged, ‘Richard --- I wish you would tell me what’s wrong.’

  ‘What good would that do?’

  ‘You might feel better for talking about it.’ He shook his head at me but didn’t answer. If he wouldn’t even admit he’d confided in Mr. Hamerton, I knew I was wasting my time, but I tried again. ‘And it might stop me worrying about you.’

  ‘You think so?’ And he gave way to a brittle laugh. ‘No, Drusilla, it would not. I realise you mean well, but there’s only one way to resolve this.....matter. And resolve it I will.’

  ‘Whatever do you mean?’ I asked, full of apprehension, having caught a glimpse of recklessness in his eyes. Again he didn’t answer and I urged, ‘Promise you won’t do anything rash.’

  ‘I don’t have any choice, Drusilla. Death or glory, that’s me,’ he ended jokily.

  I walked back down the hill thinking about the Fat Badgers, for so far Mr. Reevers and Mr. East had failed to find any trace of them on the Island. This highly organised group clearly knew how to keep their members and activities well hidden. Yet, things must go wrong on occasion, even for them.

  The following morning, straight after breakfast, I set off for Newchurch, accompanied by Mudd. Still scarcely able to believe that in the space of a few hours we had finally learnt the surname of Septimus’s friend George, and what Mr. Hamerton wanted with the Blackgang smugglers.

  On reaching the village, a boy directed me to the Jenkins residence, an attractive stone house down a quiet lane. When I knocked on the door, however, the butler informed me Mrs Jenkins and her children were staying on the mainland with her brother, who had recently moved from London to Hampshire.