Page 40 of The Wordsworth Key (Regency Secrets #3)

Chapter Twenty-Three

M oss offered to escort Dora part of the way home while Jacob rode into Grasmere to return the manuscript.

They agreed that none of them should be alone, not with Knotte at large, especially if he was a lot stronger than he pretended.

Mounted on Nero, Jacob thought he should be able to catch up with them before they reached Rydal Mount, and then he could go the rest of the way home with Dora.

Both men had a silent understanding that it was Dora they were protecting, not that they would tell her that.

Acutely aware of the precious cargo in his bag and wanting to get rid of the responsibility as soon as possible, Jacob found Dorothy Wordsworth weeding in the garden among the beans in the vegetable patch.

Their red flowers glowed against the dark green leaves clambering up the poles, promise of the crop to come.

A white butterfly fluttered over the cabbages.

The dark yew trees with their scarlet berries and the church tower loomed behind, so even in the sunshine the garden felt overshadowed.

Dorothy brushed off her hands when she heard him approach.

‘Dr Sandys!’

‘Where is everyone?’ he asked.

‘William’s taken the children for a walk to the waterfall. Mary is resting. I heard that there was trouble at Town End?’

‘One of the summer visitors hit his head,’ said Jacob, deciding the less said the better. ‘He’s resting but it’s serious, so I’ve sent for his family.’

‘These boys– always so reckless. Would you like tea?’

‘No, thank you. I just came to return this to you.’ He opened the flap of the canvas bag and he gently drew out his priceless charge.

Her face lit up. ‘You found them! Oh, Mr Barton will be pleased. The man was most cut up about losing them. I must send him a message.’

Another subject he wanted to avoid. ‘He’s not at the cottage– we’re not sure where he’s gone.

In fact, that was where I found them. Someone must’ve put them back while he was away, so we may never find out who borrowed them without permission.

’ He handed her the canvas bag which she hugged to her chest. She did not need to know that someone had been using the poem as a prompt for murder.

The great work of Wordsworth should not be sullied by making that association public.

‘It’s not a very satisfactory end to our search but a happy ending for the notebooks. ’

‘The important thing is we have them back. I’ll leave them on William’s desk.

He was mentioning to me at dinner that he wants to look at some of the passages again– you can imagine that gave me a horrible moment.

Always tinkering, my brother, after the perfect poem, and not the one merely good enough for publication. ’

‘He is a perfectionist,’ agreed Jacob. ‘I’d better take my leave. I’m still playing host to my brother, Miss Fitz-Pennington and her friend.’

Dorothy shooed him out of her garden with a good-natured smile, one burden off her shoulders. ‘Then you’d better hurry. I fear our little matter has made you a terrible host.’

Taking satisfaction from the knowledge that he had done something good for the future of literature, Jacob mounted his horse with lighter heart.

He rode past the inn and noticed Langhorne sitting with the Rush Bearing Queen on his lap.

The man appeared to be taking solace for the shock of his friend’s injury in her bosoms. Langhorne was a stag in musk– Jacob despised that kind.

There had been plenty of them in the army, often among the officer class.

However, the girl wasn’t alone, so if his chosen doe did not welcome his attentions then she had those around to drive off her wooer.

Riding on, he saw Lieutenant Crawford and Captain Cooper on guard outside Wright’s cottage. They saluted Jacob as he passed.

‘Any news?’ he asked.

‘No change,’ said Cooper. ‘The nurse is keeping us apprised but says we aren’t needed inside.’

Which meant Jacob’s orders were being followed to the letter.

‘Very good. Send for me if there are any developments, otherwise I’ll return tomorrow.

’ He noted that there was no sign of Knotte.

It would be better if they knew where he was but there were too few of them with too much to do to follow him and not be spotted.

He wished he had some of their London employees with them to share the work of investigation.

When Jacob caught up with Dora and Moss, they had been joined by the Coleridge boys as they walked on the tree-shaded path by Grasmere.

If he hadn’t known what was going on, it would’ve made an idyllic sight: the lady and gentleman strolling against the backdrop of the sparkling water, the lads carrying fishing rods and wearing old clothes fit for a holiday.

It was good to see that the boys had recovered from the shock of Mr Barton’s strange vanishing.

Youngsters were surprisingly resilient like that.

Jacob dismounted and fell into step with them.

‘I was just telling Hartley and Derwent to keep clear of Mr Knotte, as well as the others,’ said Dora, giving him a significant look.

‘What about him?’ asked Hartley, jerking a thumb at the silent Moss. ‘Is he safe?’

Moss gave him a toothy grin. ‘No one is safe, lad. Not even Miss Fitz-Pennington here.’

‘Especially not Miss Fitz-Pennington,’ muttered Jacob, giving her a sly smile.

Dora gave him a haughty look which made him want to kiss her, but he refrained. ‘I think, Hartley,’ she said, ‘Mr Moss is safe enough for you to go to him should you be afraid, or should you see anything that strikes you as out of place or plain wrong. He’s staying at Rydal Hall.’

‘I can see your camp across the lake when you’ve a fire lit,’ said Moss.

‘I thought you said no one would notice us,’ said Derwent in a low voice to his brother. ‘That we were sneaky like that.’

‘You hid it quite well, using the hollow, but I’m sneakier,’ said Moss.

And the agent had probably been snooping around at night, thought Jacob, to see who was up to no good. ‘The encouraging news is that we’ve found the manuscript.’

‘Oh, splendid! Where was it?’ asked Hartley.

‘In Mr Barton’s cottage, where it was supposed to be all along.’

‘That’s very peculiar. Do you think Mr Barton came back?’

‘Or is he really dead?’ asked Derwent, the shadow of anxiety darkening his expression.

‘I don’t know, lad– I wish I did. My guess is the person who stole it returned it when Mr Barton went missing.’

‘They probably felt guilty,’ said Hartley, nodding his head in understanding. ‘I’d feel sick if I did something that made my friend feel so guilty he killed himself– or at least pretended to die to get out of the fix.’

Derwent’s expression brightened and he turned to Dora.

‘You know what, Miss Fitz-Pennington, I think Mr Barton ran away and he’ll come back now the poem is back.

I mean, when I broke a window at Greta Hall, I ran off for a whole day because I thought Uncle Robert would tell me off. I didn’t come back until I got hungry.’

‘You got a scolding, I presume?’ asked Dora. ‘When you returned?’

‘Yes, but everyone was so relieved I came back they forgot to be very cross with me. Even Mother wept and hugged me.’

A suspicion crossed Jacob’s mind. ‘Your mother does know where you are at the moment, doesn’t she?’

‘Aunty Dorothy sends her news,’ said Hartley. ‘We’ve another four days when we are allowed to camp, then we have to go home to do our summer reading.’

Jacob wondered if he should send the boys away for their own safety.

It was highly unlikely they were targets as they had little to do with Knotte and the others.

A group of radicals would consider two boys running wild in the countryside the very kind of liberated lifestyle to be encouraged.

With these two, if he were any judge of character, telling them not to do something, to tuck tails and to go back to their mother, would likely send them running straight at danger.

He would leave the subject at a warning for now.

‘Then I hope you enjoy your four days. Barton’s friends are a strange crew, bad things happen around them, so promise you’ll keep out of their way?’

‘Absolutely. We don’t want to get whacked on the head like Mr Wright at the cottage,’ said Derwent.

So much for keeping them in the dark. ‘Did you tell them?’ he asked Dora.

She shook her head. ‘They heard it on the valley news service.’

‘The news service being?’

‘A waggoner on his way to Ambleside,’ said Hartley.

‘They came gallantly to escort me home.’ Dora smiled at the boys. ‘I am blessed to have an entourage of four brave gentlemen.’

Hartley, however, scowled at Moss. ‘We didn’t like it that she was alone with him.’

That explained why they had come out of hiding to show themselves in their ragged state.

‘My attentions are entirely honourable,’ said Moss.

‘We’ll see.’ Hartley wasn’t so easily placated.

They reached the turn to Rydal Hall. The boys went in the opposite direction, heading back to their camp. They were soon leaping across the stepping stones that spanned the river.

‘This is where we part ways,’ said Moss. ‘Shall we meet again at Wright’s tomorrow morning? I have to send word to London that matters have taken a disturbing turn. Then I’m going to go back and sleep in the cottage. I don’t trust his attacker not to return.’

‘Crawford and Cooper are outside. Do you need assistance?’ asked Jacob.

‘I think not. There will be a nurse on hand. Our attacker would be very bold if he thought he could take on so many.’

‘We are expecting word from our people in London. Let’s hope between us we can find that proof we need for our killer to be detained before anyone else gets hurt.’ Jacob held out his hand and Moss shook it. ‘I hope you have a quiet night.’

Dora offered her hand, and Jacob was a little annoyed that Moss chose to kiss it rather than shake. He suspected Moss did it just to get on his nerves.