Page 32 of The Wordsworth Key (Regency Secrets #3)

Chapter Eighteen

Hardknott Roman Fort

T he weather was closing in, the clouds descending to blank out the hills and create a little pocket around the fort high up on Hardknott Pass.

Having noticed her absence from the party, Jacob discovered Dora had clambered to the top of the hill and was looking down on what could still be glimpsed of the valley from the highest wall of the Roman fort, her skirt flapping in the breeze, her scarlet redingote standing out against the clouds.

She looked dazzling– Minerva come to visit the troops.

Solid beneath her boots, the wall was constructed from squared blocks of greystone, flecked with lime-green circles of the local lichen.

The embankments of the fort had been set in squares, a sign that the Romans had left their geometric stamp on this locality where native walls tended to follow the meandering contours of the ground and the sheepfolds were often circular.

He hopped up beside her. In the lower court of the fort, under the awning of a white tent, Lady Alice was surrounded by the gentlemen of the party.

Langhorne hovered at her elbow to ensure she had every morsel, every drink she wished, her cavalier servente .

The two lords had their heads together, probably plotting some government intrigue.

The servants were packing the remnants of the picnic onto the wagon that had transported it there at dawn.

‘Enjoying yourself?’ he asked.

‘I am. It’s impressive that this survived the centuries.’ She folded her arms and shivered. ‘Poor legionaries. It’s the height of summer and yet it feels wintry. I’d wager they pined for Rome and dreamed of sipping wine in the Forum and cheering on the gladiators in the Colosseum.’

He smiled at the picture she painted. ‘No doubt. Did you learn anything from our friends?’

‘I learned that Moss despises Knotte. Whether that is snobbery, a difference of literary opinions or suspicion of something darker, I couldn’t tell. He stuck close by him on the ride up.’

‘I’ve noticed that no one has mentioned Barton today.’

‘Perhaps they’ve agreed to avoid the subject as there is little more to be done other than speculate?

He’ll turn up one way or another.’ She grimaced, clearly not liking the next thing she was to say.

‘Barton spoke to me of a mother. We could write to her and ask if her son has contacted her recently.’

‘And someone should tell her he is thought to be missing, in case he is dead.’

They looked at each other, neither rushing to volunteer.

‘Miss Wordsworth?’ suggested Dora, then she corrected herself. ‘But that’s hardly fair considering what the family is going through.’

‘I suggest we ask the local clergyman to relay the concerns of Barton’s friends. He seems to be the person in place who might best pen an enquiry to a family member.’

‘Where did Mr Barton attend church?’

‘I believe he often walked to Grasmere to be with the Wordsworths.’

‘And we are there tomorrow for the Rush Bearing ceremony. We can ask then.’ Dora rubbed her upper arms. ‘I still can’t believe he killed himself. I can’t even convince myself he is dead.’

‘Then where is he?’

‘Dashed if I know.’ She turned and jumped down off the wall. It was quite a drop, but she made light work of the leap, only holding on to her hat with one hand and skirts with the other. ‘We’d better get back to your brother before he sends out a search party.’

Jacob fell into step with her. ‘You and Lady Alice appear to have made friends.’

A little flush reddened her cheeks. ‘I would say rather we have negotiated a truce.’

‘In what matter?’

She huffed. ‘Do you really want to pretend to be obtuse, Jacob? It isn’t becoming.’

He felt a flush of pleasure that she might be a little flustered by the thought of a rival. ‘Are you jealous?’ he said it in a joking tone, but he wouldn’t mind if she admitted to a little worry.

‘No.’ Her reply was flat.

‘Oh.’

She stopped in the shelter of one of the higher walls where they were out of sight of the rest of the party.

‘Jacob, I don’t have time for foolish games.

I’ve seen coquets play off one lover against another and I never thought it reflected well on anyone in the triangle.

If you want such games, leave me out of it. ’

‘I didn’t…’ But he had privately entertained the flattering notion that he was desired by two such fine women, hadn’t he? ‘I want you, not Lady Alice.’

‘Well, good.’ She scuffed a stone with her boot.

‘You will have noticed that I’ve not put shackles on you.

If you change your mind, tell me and I’ll get out of your way.

I told the Lady Alice that was how things stood between us, therefore you can expect her to lay siege to your heart.

’ She curled her lip at that. ‘Perhaps not so much your heart as your appetite for adventure. She believes you are destined to have an exciting life travelling the world together. She’s not wrong. She can offer that to you.’

‘Darling, there’s nothing she can offer me that is better than what I have with you.’

Dora gave a cynical laugh. ‘Jacob, you really take the cake sometimes. Of course, she offers far more than I can– in worldly terms at least. I want you to give her charms serious consideration, otherwise I’ll never be sure that you are with me because you think you’ve given a gentlemanly promise you cannot back away from.

I don’t want that kind of affection from a man because it will turn into resentment and regret one day– I know it will. ’

He had a horrible feeling he’d stepped right into what could become a serious rift with his foolishness.

He had to fight back and regain the ground he’d lost. ‘Are you saying this because you’d like me to persuade myself out of my love for you?

Because it is love, you know. I won’t apologise for saying it out loud. ’

Happiness passed fleetingly across her face before cynicism returned.

‘What is love? I’ve never been sure, not having known much of it in my life.

It’s not the same as passion.’ Jacob wished he could punish the people in her life who had put that expression on her face, starting with her father.

But there was more there, wasn’t there? Things she hadn’t yet felt able to tell him.

‘We mustn’t confuse the two,’ she continued.

‘Have you wondered if this… this animal magnetism, or whatever you want to call it, this thing between us is clouding our judgement?’ She turned to walk away, almost as if the conversation was irritating her.

He caught her elbow. ‘Stop a moment. This is important. Yes, Lady Alice is a suitable bride for someone of my station?—’

‘There you are! Have at her and be happy!’ snapped Dora.

His lady was upset with him and perversely that gave him courage.

‘Suitable for anyone of my station, I should say. I will do for her– but so would some other well-connected member of the Ton. I’m completely interchangeable, like a different colour waistcoat.

I don’t love her; she doesn’t love me. Sadly for her hopes, I have fallen in love with a prickly actress who is the least suitable match in the world which means she is perfect for me, the least suitable suitor in the world. We are misfits who fit each other.’

A little smile flickered at the corner of her very kissable mouth. ‘Misfits?’

‘Come, who is being obtuse now?’

She gave a very Dora growl of exasperation. ‘I just don’t want you to be sorry for picking me over her. I need time to feel that this is right. I don’t rush into relationships, looking for the first man to save me. I’m not Ruby wheedling her way into your brother’s good books.’

He put his arms around her. ‘That is something I can agree. If this is a ship in a storm, you wouldn’t rush for the lifeboat but go down with it if you weren’t sure it was the right way off.’

She laughed. ‘Are you the sinking ship in that comparison or the lifeboat?’

‘Definitely the ship.’ He leaned down and kissed her. ‘And I want you for my captain as I think you’ll be the one saving me from wrecking.’

* * *

The party headed back in a new formation. Arthur rode with Lady Alice and her father which left Jacob free to follow with Dora. They fell behind the others so they had everyone in their sight but could not be overheard.

‘What’s our next step?’ Dora asked.

‘We don’t know for certain that the two cases converge– the death of Leyburn and the matter of the manuscript and Barton. Moss being here suggests the government suspects a link to this group of friends, but we don’t know on what they based their belief.’

‘Surely there must be some intelligence, more than a hint of trouble before the murder? Moss appears to have wormed his way into the friendship group long before anyone died.’

‘True. I hadn’t thought of that. This nest of troublemakers was on their map and when Leyburn was murdered they knew exactly where to look first. They sent Moss on this holiday to be near the suspects– yes, that makes sense.’

‘I’ve been wondering which of them might be considered a danger to the country.

The military men– Cooper and Crawford– might, I suppose, if they were fomenting rebellion in the ranks, but I would expect the action taken against them to come from within the army, not from the civilian authorities.

Far easier to post them to some backwater where they can do no harm.

Canada, for example. That led me to consider Mr Wright– everyone overlooks him. What do we know about him?’

‘Other than he drinks too much? True, we must investigate what he does in Colebrookdale. It’s the heartland of our industry, home to iron foundries. It would be considered key to the war effort.’

‘And Langhorne’s father used to have a gunpowder factory. Did Lord Furness take that over? Is that what Langhorne senior continues to manage for him?’

‘And the relevance of gunpowder is too obvious to state. I apologise for dismissing them as drones with no role of importance in society. I should’ve thought of their families.’

‘And Barton– his father is heavily invested in manufacturing, another vital industry. Strike a blow at the cotton mills in Manchester and you strike a blow at the roots of our national wealth.’

Her reasoning was leaving him standing in the dust. ‘Dora, may I say how very good at this you are?’

She grinned at him. ‘You may.’

‘Dora, you are very?—’

Laughing, she slapped his arm to cut him off. ‘Did Alex say if Leyburn had received any threats– or did the family know whom he was meeting?’

‘They didn’t mention anything of the kind and I’m sure they would’ve done when they engaged our services. Lady Leyburn thought he was at his club.’

‘So logically he met someone there who lured him out or received a message that drew him out.’

‘Or he lied about his true destination and never went there. I hope Alex has thought to follow that up. I expect he’ll write to us when he receives my letter about our findings in Cockermouth.’

‘The element that keeps dragging this back to Cumberland for me is the shepherd’s crook. It simply doesn’t fit in London whereas it would be right at home in the Lakes.’

‘No doubt Alex will explore that angle too.’

Dora frowned. The mist had come down and the riders ahead were vanishing into it, leaving the two of them alone. ‘What if?—’

Jacob raised a hand. ‘Best we keep our voices down. Sound carries in a mist.’

She nodded. ‘Of course. I forgot. It seems counter to our intuition, but it is so. I was going to say, let us accept for the sake of argument that there is a link and that we have two murders. The drowning is staged to recall a line from the missing poem. The London murder too feels staged– not disposing of the murder weapon, tying him to the dock to be discovered, shoving the crook into his mouth. There’s a lot of vicious anger in that death. Would that connect?’

Jacob rubbed his brow. ‘I’m not sure. I don’t have your formidable recall.

But now you say it, there’s been a buzz in the back of my mind since I heard about the magistrate’s murder.

There’s an association that has been wanting to land and I think it might be in that same poem or another by Wordsworth. I simply can’t remember.’

‘I think it’s important to find out. If there is a link, then our killer is using that poem as his prompt. He is being too clever by half.’

‘Exactly. As it is unpublished, the references are for his satisfaction only, or for a very limited audience if it does come out.’

‘Do you think he is trying to lay this before Wordsworth?’

‘You mean like a cat bringing in its prey to present it to its owner?’

‘Perhaps– or it could be a taunt: you wrote about action, but I took it.’

Dowsed by an overhanging fern when Nero strayed too close to the verge, Jacob brushed droplets from his breeches. These were useful questions, but they needed to start finding out some facts to send them in the right direction.

‘I think we have several things to do tomorrow,’ he said. ‘The first is we must go to Grasmere and ask the vicar to write to Mrs Barton to see if he has turned up at home.’

‘Agreed. We should also find out who wasn’t accounted for at the time of Leyburn’s murder.’

‘I would wager Moss knows by now. I think I’ll ask him right out.’

‘And there may be some who can account for where they were when Barton went missing– that would help narrow the field.’

‘On the subject of our suspects, what do you say to searching the belongings of our shepherd poet? I believe we agree that he would be the most likely to take the poem seriously.’

‘I’d say we should do that but he’s homeless. Where is he keeping his belongings? Should we search Barton’s cottage?’

‘It would be a place to start. We should go back there when we know Knotte is away. You or I must detain him in conversation to allow the other time for the search. And the final thing on my list for tomorrow is that we must talk to someone who knows the poem better than I do and see if we can make the connection to Leyburn’s murder. ’

‘Who would that be?’

‘The man that wrote it.’

Dora nodded. ‘Of course. Horse’s mouth.’

‘He does have a rather equine profile.’

She laughed. ‘Let’s look for a chance at the Rush Bearing. But how are we going to ask about the poem without alerting Mr Wordsworth to the theft? We’ve been engaged on the basis that he isn’t disturbed, and I would hate to break my word to Miss Wordsworth.’

Jacob smiled. ‘Never fear, darling. There is one thing I know about her brother and that is he is never backward in coming forward when someone wants to talk about his poetry with him.’