Page 10 of Secrecy (The Chaplain’s Legacy #4)

T he carriage had lumbered down the hill to Helmsley, the horses changed for a hired team of four and they were well under way again before Edward ventured to break the prevailing silence.

“Tess, you wanted to talk to me last night. Do you wish to talk now? If you prefer to speak privately, we can stop the carriage and we may walk into these woods on our left, so that Betty and Deakin will not overhear us.”

She looked at him thoughtfully, chewing her lip. “It is not private,” she said eventually. “I only wanted to know how we can get Tom out of York Gaol.”

“Not by springing him,” he said with a little smile. “I will do much to accommodate your wishes, Tess Nicholson, but I will not break the law quite so outrageously.”

That brought a hint of a smile to her lips. “Oh, not that. Besides, I do not know how it might be done, for gaols are always fearsomely well-guarded, are they not? So it would have to be some clever stratagem, and without seeing the place, I cannot think how it might be done.”

“You have clearly given the matter careful thought,” he said.

“Well, I have, yes. One must consider every option, however unlikely. But if he simply retracts his confession, would anyone believe him? That is the problem. And no matter how much his friends protest that he could not possibly have killed anyone, the judges will say, as my uncle did, that he has confessed and that is an end to it.”

“These questions are imponderable,” Edward said. “Of course, we are bound to ponder them anyway, that is only human nature, but we cannot yet answer them. Our first course is to talk to Shapman and find out why he confessed to a crime he did not commit. After that, we must find Captain Edgerton and see what he thinks about it.”

“Captain Edgerton! Why?”

“Because he was in charge of the investigation into your father’s death. He must have had suspicions as to who might have done it. If we can convince him that Shapman is innocent, then he can start looking for the real murderer again. That is the very best way to clear Shapman’s name, you see — to find out who really did it.”

“Ah,” was all she said, but he could see that she understood.

Their progress was slower than he would have liked, but Tess seemed more at ease, and when there was a delay in replacing the horses at the final post house, he took a parlour, ordered some food and was pleased to see her eat a little bread and ham. They arrived in York at an hour when working men were beginning to think of going home for the evening, and the gentry were watching the clock for the hour to change for dinner. There was the business of finding accommodation to be accomplished first, but as soon as rooms had been secured, Edward left Deakin and Betty to unpack, while he, Tess and Harold headed for the gaol at the castle.

The gaolers were disinclined to produce Shapman at such an inconvenient hour, but Edward’s title and the coins he pushed into their hands did the trick. They were shown into a small room furnished only with a table and a few rickety chairs, and a few minutes later, a man in manacles was led in.

Tess hurled herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck and sobbing, “Tom! Oh, Tom!”

With his hands confined, he could offer her no physical comfort, simply murmuring, “There now, Miss Tess, it’s all right. I’m fine.”

Edward saw at once why Tess was so enamoured of him. It would be hard to imagine a handsomer man, and built as so many working men were, with broad shoulders and muscular arms. In the rudest of rude health, he was a striking contrast to the slenderness of Kent Atherton, or the earl’s middle-aged portliness. He looked tired and very dishevelled, with straw clinging to his coat and breeches, and he wore no neck cloth, but that perhaps only made him more attractive to Tess. All her protective instincts would be roused by it.

He persuaded Tess to sit down, which she would only do if Tom’s seat was right beside hers so that she could cling to his arm with one hand, and wrap her fingers around his manacled hands with the other.

“Oh, Tom, why have you done this? Such a foolish thing to do! You had nothing to do with my father’s death, and everyone must know that.”

“They were quick enough to believe me, though,” Shapman said. “Not Captain Edgerton — he made me go through it step by step, but everyone else just sighed with relief.”

“Go through it step by step? What do you mean?”

“I had to tell him exactly how the murder was done.”

“But how could you do that? How did you know?”

“Well, it was you that told me how it might’ve been done, Miss Tess, don’t you remember? I said I thought it was a madman, and you said, no, he was clever not mad. And you thought up that whole business of hiding the axe in the big vase thing. It was your story… oh, the captain asked if I got covered in blood, and I knew the murderer must have been, so I said yes, but I wore an old smock and burnt it later. That was my own invention, but he seemed satisfied with that. Heavens, Miss Tess, I did this for you. I thought you’d be pleased with me. I didn’t mean you to come galloping down here. You wanted the captain called off the investigation and now he is.”

“But Tom, I do not want you to hang!”

“I’m not going to hang!” He laughed, quite at his ease.

“Will you retract your confession, then?”

“No, I’ve got a better way than that. You’re not to worry about me, Miss Tess. It’s not very comfortable in here, but as soon as you’ve found your fortune, you let me know and I’ll do what I need to do to get out of here.”

“Is that what this was about?” she said in a small voice. “My fortune?”

“Of course. Once you get your hands on that, you’ll be free to do what you want and I can go back to my workshop. I’ve left my brother to keep an eye on it, but I’d not like to leave it for too long, for all that. So you get on with finding what’s yours, you hear?”

They returned to the hotel in silence, Tess striding ahead, Edward in her wake and Harold marching some little way behind. Edward had ordered dinner to be served in a private parlour with their own servants attending them, but even so, nothing at all was said beyond the practical. Eventually, the meal was cleared away and the servants disappeared to their own quarters. Edward poured himself a brandy and waited.

Yet still she said nothing, sitting sunk in thought at the table, nursing the half glass of wine he had poured for her an hour before.

Someone had to say something about Tom Shapman. “He will go on more comfortably now, I trust. I paid those men to ensure he has a cell to himself, with a mattress and blankets, no rats and decent food. Or as decent as it can be, in a place like that.”

A sigh, and then she pushed the glass away. “I have to go to Pickering,” she said, as if he had said nothing.

“This house of yours?” She nodded. “But you cannot get in. No one can enter without the permission of the trustees, or the tenant.”

She fell silent again.

“Tess, what is this fortune that you expect to find at the Pickering house? Whatever it is, it is part of your dowry and therefore is not truly yours. Your trustees will control it until you marry and then it will be your husband’s.”

Again she said nothing.

He sipped his brandy and waited again, but she seemed to have nothing further to say. Well then, he would say his piece and give her something to think about.

“It seems to me,” he said slowly, “that you have to make a major decision, one that will affect your whole life, and perhaps you are torn. Perhaps the options seem limited. Certainly your family is no help, but then I cannot imagine you would accept any advice they offered.” That brought a wan smile. “I shall not offer you advice, either, since I believe you are perfectly capable of making a rational decision by yourself. You have to decide who to marry… well, I suppose, if we are to be entirely logical about this, there is always the option not to marry at all, but then you have nothing — no fortune, nothing. So let us suppose you must marry. At the moment, you have but three choices. One, you could marry Tom Shapman, who is a fine figure of a man, I grant you that, but not your class, not educated, not the cleverest of men, since he presently resides in York Gaol on a hanging charge. But let us suppose he can be extricated from his predicament and you marry him, you would find yourself with no fortune, no chess in the evening, no conversation over dinner. Where would you live? Have you thought about that? In his workshop?”

“In a cottage in the village,” she said, her eyes flashing. “He could still have his workshop, if he wants it, and do the work he loves.”

“A cottage,” Edward said thoughtfully. “So… a parlour and a kitchen downstairs, and two bedrooms upstairs, one for Mr and Mrs Tom Shapman, and one for all the little Shapmans. The maid of all work will sleep on the kitchen floor, I suppose.”

“Not that sort of cottage,” she said smiling.

“Oh, a cottage with a drawing room and a dining room large enough to seat twenty-four, I suppose. How many footmen will a woodworker’s wage pay for? Grooms? Horses? A lady’s maid, perhaps? How many gowns a year do you think he can buy you?”

“I hope I shall have enough money to pay for such an establishment myself.”

“Ah, so you will be the great lady, and he will still be the village woodworker, except living on his wife’s money. That will gratify him, I am sure. He will be the envy of all his friends.”

She frowned at him. “What are the other two choices?”

“Number two is to marry Ulric. You would have your fortune, and although it will be technically Ulric’s, if you can keep him docile, and keep his mother from persuading him to make it all over to her, you will have full control of it. You can leave Ulric at Myercroft with his beloved horses while you do… well, whatever you want. But you would still have no one to play chess with and no conversation over dinner.” He hesitated only a moment. “Or…”

“Yes?”

“Or you could marry me.” There! He had said it, and now let the dice fall however they will.

“You? Why would I marry you?”

That was not the reaction he had expected. “For the obvious reasons — fortune, chess, conversation,” he said sharply. “I am assuming that such trivia as my title, income and standing in society hold no attractions for you.”

“Certainly not! Nothing about you holds any attraction for me.”

The sudden pain took him entirely by surprise. Did he care so much for her good opinion? Apparently he did. “Hmm. That is certainly comprehensive, but bear in mind that you could marry me tomorrow, or at least as soon as the banns could be read. Your mother would be delighted with the match. Did you know she almost became Lady Tarvin herself at one time? So she could have no possible objections, and you would have your fortune immediately, including this house of yours.”

“No, you would have my fortune,” she spat. “Do you think I am stupid? That I would take one look at you, and roll over instantly? Oh, look, a baron with a fancy house — naturally I must marry him immediately! Pah! You are just trying to get my fortune for yourself. I love Tom Shapman, Edward, and I intend to marry him, whether you like it or not. All I have to do is get my hands on my fortune.”

“Then I wish you joy of your cottage,” he said angrily. Fool of a woman! What did he have to do to make her see sense? And why exactly did he care, anyway?

***

E dward waited until Tess had retired to bed, then took a bottle of wine and two glasses, and made his way back to the gaol. It took considerably more coins this time, but before too long he was sitting opposite Tom Shapman again in the drab little room.

“Wine, Shapman?”

“I’ll try some, but I don’t often have it. Is this a good one?”

Edward took a sip. “A middling sort, I should say. I have much better stuff in my own cellar.”

Gingerly, Shapman tasted the wine, his face assuming a surprised expression when he found it palatable. “You want to talk to me without Miss Tess weeping all over me, I dare say.”

“Something like that. I want someone who will be honest with me… straightforward, because frankly Tess is as unpredictable as a squirrel. There is no knowing which way she will jump, and I have to know what is going on if I am to help her.”

“ Are you going to help her?”

“That depends,” Edward said. “Answer me this, Shapman — why do you want to marry her?”

“Oh, I don’t,” he said, sounding surprised. “Heavens, no! She’s way above me. I’d never presume. I know she has this funny idea that we’ll wed, but it’s never going to happen, is it?”

That was unexpected! “So why did you go to her father last year and ask permission to address her?”

He shifted in his chair and pulled a face. “It wasn’t quite like that. She wanted to know how much her dowry was, that was the purpose of it. She said if I went to her father and said I was thinking of marrying her, but if she had a large dowry it would be impossible… well, she imagined he’d say something like, ‘You’ll not get your hands on my daughter’s twenty thousand’ or whatever it was. Then she would know what was hers. But he just said I’d never see a penny piece of her money, he’d make sure of it, and he has, hasn’t he? This will of his has stitched her up good and proper.”

“But she still thinks she will marry you. There is something about getting hold of her fortune.”

“She thinks that if she gets her money in her own hands, she’ll marry me. But I keep telling her it will never do. Her uncle is an earl, for heaven’s sake. She’s grown up in Corland Castle. How could she lower herself to marry a man like me?”

“But if she finds this mythical fortune, what then? She would be rich enough to keep both of you in comfort. You need never work again, or you could do only the jobs that interested you. Would you marry her then?”

He sighed. “Look, she’s a lovely lady and she’s been very good to me and helped me get the business started, and I confess that when she comes to me with kisses and sweet words… well, I don’t fight her off as perhaps I should. It’s never gone beyond that, but I defy any man to refuse a kiss from a girl like Miss Tess. She’s as sweet as pie, and if she were a farmer’s daughter… but she ain’t, and that’s the long and the short of it. I have my life all planned out, and she’s no part of it.”

“So… is there, in fact, a farmer’s daughter?”

He went bright red. “She’s a farrier’s daughter, actually, and she works as a poultry maid on Gowland’s farm. That’s about ten or so miles west of Birchall. Will Gowland’s her uncle. I’ve been courting her for about three years and we should have been wed by now, but when Miss Tess came along and seemed inclined to be friendly, we agreed not to do anything to discourage her. Make use of her, like, and she helped me get business when I was struggling a bit, so I’m grateful for that. But we never supposed she’d start talking about marriage. I keep thinking she’ll forget about me, but she’s not going to, is she?”

“Not unless you tell her about the poultry maid.”

“There never seemed to be a good moment for that. Besides, Miss Tess has a way of beguiling a man so he just wants to do whatever she wants. It’s how I ended up going to her father, and how I came to be in here, and if she gets her money and starts on at me to wed her… well, I’m not sure I’ll be able to fight her off, and that’s a fact. She just never takes no for an answer. I want her to find her fortune, if that’s what it’ll take to make her happy, and I don’t want to fall out with her, but I’d like my life back the way it was. So if you can persuade her to leave me alone, that would be a kindness, my lord.”

“I’m not sure I can persuade her to do anything, but I shall do what I can. But what about you? You said you have a plan to get out of here. I trust it does not involve tunnelling out or bribing the gaolers, because I am not sure either of those ideas will fly.”

Shapman laughed. “Nothing like that. I was over at Gowland’s farm visiting Ruby the night of the murder. I go there about once a month, walking over the night before, have supper, sleep in a room with Gowland’s four sons, leave again at six to walk home. There are about a dozen people who’ll swear I was there. All I have to do is get word to them, and they’ll go to the magistrate.”

“But not until Tess has found her fortune.”

“Exactly!”

Edward laughed, for finally his way forward was clear. “Then we must make sure that her fortune is found as soon as possible.”

When Edward returned to the hotel, leaving the wine bottle with Shapman as prisoner currency, he found Tess pacing backwards and forwards in the parlour. At least she was fully dressed this time.

“You went out!” she said accusingly. “You took wine — I saw you from my window. Where have you been?”

“Back to the gaol to talk to Shapman again. There was much left unsaid earlier.”

“Was there? What else is there to say?”

“I wanted to know more about your fortune,” he said, having no intention of telling her the real reason for his visit. “I still want to know more about this mysterious fortune of yours that you think is lurking in some nondescript house in Pickering, for I will tell you openly, Tess, I do not believe any fortune exists that is not already known about.”

“Well, that is where you are wrong, Mr Oh-So-Clever. It does exist, I have seen it and I know precisely where in the house it is.”

“How can you possibly know that? No one has been into the house.”

“I have been in, as a housemaid until I was caught. I found my father’s office over the coach house, and there is a safe in there. That is where my fortune is.”

“Oh, there are bags of coins in there, are there? Diamond necklaces?”

“Gold bars,” she said. “Lots of gold bars.”

“Excellent!” he said with a grin. “Then let us go to Pickering forthwith. What an adventure this is turning out to be!”