Page 20 of Loyalty (The Chaplain’s Legacy #5)

M ichael watched his wife pack with her usual efficiency.

“You will take the greatest care? If the weather should turn—”

“Stop worrying. It is only fifty miles to Harrogate.”

“Remember to stop at the Three Tuns in Thirsk.”

“I know.”

“And after that—”

“Stop it, Michael. Sandy will look after me, and we shall be back tomorrow, all being well, and if not, then certainly the day after. Miss Elspeth Peach will not wish to delay her sister’s funeral, I am sure.”

“Poor lady! What sad news you will be bringing her! You will be sure to ask for any letters.”

“I will remember. There! I am ready. Oh Michael, do not look so anxious. Just because Peachy fell afoul of a ruffian on her travels does not mean that I will. On the turnpike roads, with two postilions, not to mention Sandy and his pistols, I shall be quite safe. It is far more likely someone will take a shot at you, you know.”

His face lightened. “And I shall be ready for it, if it should happen. But you—”

“Michael, hush.” She stopped him talking in the simplest way possible. When they surfaced a little while later, she sighed and said, “I live with worrying about you every moment that you are not by my side, and sometimes even then. It is time you had a little taste of what that feels like.”

“Yet you have never asked me to give it all up. I would do it, Luce. I would give up all this scrambling around after murderers if you wished it. If it would make you happy.”

“I know you would, but I cannot imagine how irascible you would be if you were confined to live the life of a country gentleman. You would drive me to Bedlam within weeks. It is in your nature to take risks and sniff out villains, so that is what you must do. All I ask is to be allowed to share your life until you fall off a roof or are run through with a sword. Now, husband, are you going to carry my bag for me, or must I do it myself? My carriage is waiting.”

Chuckling, Michael hefted the bag onto one shoulder, then stopped, frowning. “That bag in the barn… it seemed far too dilapidated for someone as good with a needle as Miss Peach. It was torn in several places. Surely she would have mended it?”

“I expect she wanted people to think she was a very ramshackle person. It was part of her disguise, no doubt. Carriage, Michael.”

He laughed. “I beg your pardon. It is so hard to stop thinking about these little details.”

“I know, but think about them after I am gone, if you please. I want to reach Harrogate tonight, not next week.”

They made their way down to the inn yard, and he saw the bag, his wife and the blond Scotsman, Sandy, safely into the carriage and away down the road. He was about to turn back up the stairs when he heard his name spoken.

“Aye, ’tis the captain over there.” One of the ostlers was speaking to a woman of middle years and drab appearance. She nodded and set purposefully across the yard towards Michael.

“You wished to speak to me, madam?”

“Aye, I do, if you’re the man who found that poor woman’s body yesterday.”

“I did not find her myself. That was Mr Eustace Atherton, but he alerted me because she was an associate of mine and I had been looking for her.”

She nodded. “Aye, I remember Mr Eustace. Came askin’ after the lady, he did. Askin’ everyone he was. But he ain’t here, so I’ll say what I’ve come to say to you, if it’s all the same to you. What I’d like to know is this — where’s my mule?”

“Your mule, madam?”

“Aye. Went off with it, she did, a few weeks back, and that were fine, cos she paid on the nose for him for a full month, and then come back and paid for a second month. But if she’s dead, she’ll not need him no more, so I’ll have him back, if you don’t mind.”

“A mule!” Michael said, appalled. “Then she need not have stayed near Pickering. She could have been anywhere!”

“Aye.” She chuckled throatily. “Wanted to get about a bit without folks knowin’, she said, although she never let on what she were about. Some mischief, I make no doubt. But I’d be glad to have the beast back, all the same.”

“I am sure you would, madam, but I regret to inform you that I have no knowledge of any mule. Do come inside, and tell me all about it. Have you come far? You must be thirsty… and hungry, I dare say.”

“Oh… well, I wouldn’t say no to a bite to eat and a drop of somethin’.”

She did not say no to anything, as it turned out, eating her way stolidly through everything that Michael put in front of her, and scooping up what few scraps remained into a kerchief ‘for the bairns’ , as she put it. Mrs Markley was from a farm to the west of Pickering, where she raised donkeys, mules and pack ponies ‘for the trade’. Michael took that to mean smuggling, for most legal goods went by wagon on the roads or by canal.

“She come out to see me quite a while back,” she said, through a mouthful of pork pie, “cos she liked the mules, like. Had one as a girl, seemin’ly. Kept comin’ back to see them. Then asked if she could borrow one. Not comfortable ridin’ a horse, but a mule she felt she could manage. We come to terms and off she went.”

“Who knew you had rented your mule to Miss Peach?”

“No one, I dare say. No one at t’farm would care, and she made me swear to secrecy. Couple of folk came askin’ after her — Mr Eustace Atherton, he came, and a fine lookin’ man, very polite despite bein’ Scotch. He came a couple of times.”

“And what did you tell them?”

“Nothin’ at all!” she said, in surprised tones. “If a person swears me to secrecy, not a word drops from my lips. Not a word.”

Michael sighed in frustration. “It is a pity we knew nothing of this, and especially about the mule. We have been confining our searches to places she could have walked to, without realising she could have got considerably further afield.”

It was only as Mrs Markley was about to depart that Michael thought of something else. “I do not suppose Miss Peach ever talked to you about… mule droppings, did she?”

She laughed throatily. “Aye, obsessed with them, she were. They’d give her away, or some such nonsense. Away with the fairies, she was, but her money was good so who am I to question it? But when she came to pay for her second month, she said she’d fixed it. The droppings, that’s to say. No idea what she meant by it, though.”

Which left Michael not much the wiser. But he had a surgeon arriving to examine the body, so he pushed the matter to the back of his mind for the moment. None of it would bring Miss Peach back from the dead, so there was no urgency.

***

K atherine was at breakfast with the Cathcarts one morning when Davis came in bearing a silver salver.

“A groom from Corland Castle has just brought this letter for you, madam.”

“Oh! For me? Oh!” With a little trill of excitement, Aunt Cathcart took the letter. Any missive from Corland was note-worthy, but one so early in the day surely heralded something important. “I do not recognise the hand,” she went on, a little uncertainly. “It is not Lady Olivia’s. Perhaps Lady Alice has a new secretary.”

“Do open it, Mama!” Aveline cried. “Perhaps there is to be a ball.”

“They have only just held an evening party,” Aunt Cathcart said. “Well, I had better see what it says.”

Her face changed as she read, first to surprise, and then, oddly, with a glance at Katherine, to thoughtfulness. Silently, she passed it to Uncle Cathcart, who registered the same expressions, and he too looked at Katherine.

It was about her, that much was clear. Her toast turned to ashes in her mouth. Something had happened… she was to be sent away again… she was not sure she could bear it if— No, of course, she would endure whatever must be endured. That was her duty.

“Well?” Aveline said. “What is it? An invitation?”

“It does not concern you,” Aunt Cathcart said briskly, folding the letter and tucking it into her reticule. “Aveline, I wish you could learn to restrain this unbecoming curiosity. See how composed Katherine is! There are no questions on her lips, even though she must be just as interested as you are.”

“Oh, Katherine is perfect, of course!” Aveline spat.

“No one is perfect, dear, but Katherine is a well-mannered and demure young lady, who is a credit to her uncle and to me, and will undoubtedly make a good match in time because of it. Gentlemen prize such qualities when they look for a wife.”

“I shall make a good match, too!” Aveline cried. “There are other qualities men look for.”

“No one likes a pert hoyden,” her mother said sharply, “especially one who has so little respect for her own mother that she thinks to venture her own opinion in preference.”

Aveline flushed angrily, eyes flashing. Throwing down the morning roll that was in her hand she flounced from the room.

No one spoke. The boys exchanged glances, seeming amused, but Uncle Cathcart returned to his mutton chop, and Aunt Cathcart calmly drank her tea. As soon as Uncle Cathcart left the room, however, she whisked after him.

“That letter was about you, Cousin Kate, or I am a Chinaman,” James said, grinning at her. “Do not look so apprehensive. If it had been bad news, it would have been you getting a scolding instead of Aveline, you may be sure.”

Katherine could not agree with him. Any letter from Corland about her was bound to be bad news, as far as she could see. What was there of good news to be had? Kent was no longer her friend, and nothing else mattered to her at that moment.

When she left the breakfast parlour, Davis was waiting for her. “The mistress would like you to attend her in her sitting room, madam.”

The sitting room! The place of reprimand and, most recently, of banishment to Helmsley. As she entered the room, terror filled her heart — she was to be sent away again, she was certain of it now, and she could not—

“I have received a letter from Mr Kent Atherton,” her aunt said brightly.

Kent! A letter! That was not what she had expected at all, and it could not be about anything terrible, for her aunt was smiling. Her astonishment must have shown on her face, for her aunt laughed.

“Yes, I was surprised, too, but it is very proper of him. He could not write to you directly, so he wrote to me instead, and a very good letter it is, too. I do not entirely understand it, for it concerns matters of secrecy, so I shall not press you on the point. I am sure if the Athertons have secrets, they must have good reason for them, so there is no need for me to know anything about it. I would never ask you to break a confidence. Your uncle and I are agreed that you should have the letter, for it is intended for you, my dear, and there is nothing in it to put you to the blush. Well… any more than usual, that is. I never saw such a girl for blushing! But you will grow out of it in time, I dare say. There, my dear. Read it, and if you want to talk about it later, I am happy to do so.”

Pressing the letter into Katherine’s hands, she rose and left the room, leaving Katherine in a state of utter turmoil. But there was only one way to settle her mind, and that was to read what Kent had written.

‘Mrs Alan Cathcart, Cathcart House, Birchall. Madam, Pray forgive me for approaching you in this unusual way, but I am at a loss to know how else to proceed. A situation has arisen regarding Miss Parish which my conscience absolutely requires me to address at the earliest opportunity, yet I cannot write to her directly, nor do I feel that I can speak to her. Not only must the subject be a painful one for her, but I feel it important to measure my words with the utmost care lest I make a difficult situation worse. I must throw myself on your mercy, therefore, and trust to your excellent judgement as to how much of this to convey to Miss Parish.

‘You will, I am sure, be aware that a breach has occurred between Miss Parish and me. I do not know how much she has disclosed to you, but for my part I cannot speak of it, since it is a matter of secrecy involving others which I cannot honourably expose. You may therefore have to take my word for it that the cause is a serious matter of principle. Miss Parish then acted according to her own high principles. At the time, this made me angry, and to my shame I spoke to her in terms which no gentlemen should ever use against a lady. This occurred on the Sabbath, too, and within the shadow of the church itself, which only makes my disgrace the greater. I am deeply ashamed of my behaviour, and beseech you to convey to Miss Parish my profound apologies for the insult I offered her. I do not ask for her forgiveness, for I know it to be impossible that she should ever think well of me again.

‘As to the other matter which stands between us, I cannot yet resolve the argument in my mind, or make a clear separation of right and wrong, for there are good and proper considerations on both sides. Accordingly, I do not know whether we can move forward from this, and if so, how it may be done. I can only say that my discussions with Miss Parish have led me to consider my own principles more seriously than I have ever done before, and for that I am deeply grateful to her.

‘I shall shortly be going away for a while to reflect upon recent events more carefully without the distractions of familiar surroundings, where it would be too tempting to fall back into my previous ill-considered ways. I hope to emerge from this process improved in character, at least in a small way, so that I may look to my own future with greater confidence.

‘If it please you, madam, may you convey to Miss Parish my very good wishes and assure her that I shall always hold her in the greatest esteem. I am respectfully yours, Kent Atherton.’

Katherine hardly knew what to make of it. He held her in esteem! That was something, surely? It was not a complete rejection, and he talked of reflecting on his own principles and his previous ill-considered ways. That sounded almost like a repudiation of his wickedness, and yet he said he could not determine what was right or wrong. That was very bad — surely he could see the evil in his actions? And yet… on the whole, she thought it was encouraging.

But oh, how she would miss him when he was away! However awkward it might be to meet him occasionally, or even if she never saw him at all, the knowledge that he was still there, somewhere in the neighbourhood, was a comfort. Merely knowing that at any moment — at church, perhaps, or in the village, or on one of her rides — she might look up and there he would be was something to brighten every day. Now there was only the sorrow that infused her heart and seeped throughout her body whenever she was alone, and especially in the dark, lonely hours of the night. Only in her music could she find any solace.

***

K ent arrived early at the tower to check that all was in order. Wallace was there, and together they walked through the now empty cellars.

“It all looks suspiciously clean for an abandoned tower,” Kent said.

Wallace gave a grunt that might have been laughter. “Sir Hubert won’t say owt, Mr Kent. Don’t worry. I’ve brought some decent wine, beer for the men and summat to eat, so if owt goes amiss, at least you can get tha’sen foxed.”

Kent chuckled. “You think of everything. Thank you! Now get yourself off. I am the only one needed today.”

After that, there was nothing to do but lay out food and drink on the big table in the main room and await the arrival of the magistrate.

He came in state, with half a dozen hefty fellows, although two of them Kent recognised as part of the smuggling operation, and all of them were local men who greeted him deferentially. Sir Hubert patted him cheerfully on the back with a reassuring smile. At least he knew that Sir Hubert was on his side, and quite happy to turn a blind eye to the smuggling, so long as his supply of brandy was unchecked.

But there was one additional man in the party, and it was the one that Kent dreaded.

“I have invited Captain Edgerton along as a pair of independent eyes,” Sir Hubert said. “Make sure we do everything in the proper form, you know. You have no objection, I am sure?”

And Kent was forced to smile and bow to the captain, and say that no, he had not the least objection in the world.

The captain smiled, baring gleaming teeth, and made him a florid bow. At his side hung his habitual sword, and his greatcoat pockets were weighed down with what Kent was sure were pistols.

The day had just become immeasurably more dangerous.