After leaving his horse in the care of the stable hand, Richard Tregear strode towards the entrance to Tredennick House. He’d been unavoidably delayed at the mine, and by the time he was able to leave, the last of the daylight had fled, making it too dangerous to push his mount in the dark. Climbing the steps to the entrance, he hesitated before pulling the doorbell. Mrs Penna would undoubtedly be busy supervising the final preparations to the engagement dinner. He did not need to drag her away. If this door was locked, he’d make his way round to the kitchens. He gave the door knob an experimental twist, and to his relief found it unlocked.
Stepping out of the cold, he sighed with relief and shrugged off his coat, hanging it in the small alcove provided for such a purpose. Hearing the murmur of voices, he made his way towards the drawing room, thankful they’d apparently not yet gone into dinner. He was just about to push open the door, an apology on his lips when all of a sudden he heard Jago’s voice raised in anger. His heart sank, thinking his friend’s ire directed towards the Master of Tredennick.
Then came a male voice he didn’t recognise. He couldn’t quite hear what was said, but the threat was unmistakable. Richard stepped back from the door quietly, carefully, and weighed his options. Clearly, he needed to fetch help. Where were the bloody footmen? Taking another step backwards, the estate manager thought for a second, then hurried towards the kitchens.
∞∞∞
‘Liar!’ Jago’s father spat just the one word, his body trembling with rage.
‘Why would I lie?’ retorted Barnet evenly. ‘Believe me I’ve done much, much worse than throw someone off a bloody cliff.’ He gave a wide smile. ‘All this time you’ve been barking up the wrong tree.’
He turned to Jago. ‘Did daddy send you?’ he taunted. ‘Off you trotted like a good little hero, thinking to feed me a bag of bloody moonshine. But the thing is, you’re not that good at shamming it. Not like your father here. Now there’s a man I could grow to like.’
‘What the devil are you talking about?’ Jago said through gritted teeth.
‘I’ve often wondered who carried out that job,’ George mused. ‘I mean not many free traders would risk offending me by attempting a run on my patch. But nobody would admit to it. And then, no one seemed to know who’d stumped up the blunt, or why - especially given theEndeavour’shold was empty and any smuggler worth his salt would have found that out easily.’ He cocked his head on one side. ‘Who did you want dead?’ heasked, grinning as the seated man flinched. ‘You didn’t know your daughter was on that ship, did you?’
He winked at Jago who was staring at his father in horror. ‘The three hundred pounds,’ he breathed.
‘Got the job done cheap. They must have been purse-pinched,’ Barnet chuckled, then shook his head. ‘Well, as delightful as this little heart-to-heart has been, I think it’s time I was on my way. Not sure who I should kill first though.’ He frowned, pretending to think.
‘You only have four bullets, but there are five of us,’ blurted Percy suddenly.
‘Ah, it speaks,’ George commented jovially. ‘And since you so very kindly reminded me, mayhap I’ll save you until last.’ He waved the pistol in his left hand before winking lewdly at Charity who hadn’t moved, her terror absolute. ‘Thought I’d take you with me, sweetheart. We can have us some fun before I wring your pretty little neck.’
‘I have money. Take it,’ Jago grated desperately. ‘The Customs men know who you are, Barnet. It’s only a matter of time before they catch up with you. You can use the coin to buy passage to the Americas.’
‘I’ve got plenty of blunt and more places to hide out that you could ever imagine,’ the smuggler scoffed. ‘The bloody Gobblers won’t catch me.’ Then he stretched out his hand and pointed the pistol at Jago.
There was the deafening sound of a gunshot just as Charity broke free of her paralysis and screamed, ‘No!’ knocking the smuggler’s arm upwards. Jago acted immediately, throwing himself at Barnet and knocking the two of them backwards.
‘Thunder an’ turf,’ Reverend Shackleford muttered as he hurried to retrieve one of the pistols that had fallen to the floor. The other was trapped between the two grappling men. Hastily, the Reverend sniffed the barrel of the one in his hand. No smell of gunpowder.
‘His pistol’s dead,’ the clergyman shouted to Jago, just as Barnet managed to get his pistol hand free. Registering the Reverend’s shout, the smuggler lifted his arm and slammed the barrel of the gun down onto Jago’s forehead.
Dazed, Jago couldn’t stop his opponent from tipping him onto his back where Barnet lifted his hand again to hit him with the weapon a second time.
Trembling, the Reverend pointed the gun in his hand. ‘Dear God, please let me do it,’ he whispered. Suddenly, the weapon was snatched out of his hand, and incredulously, he watched as Morgan Carlyon pointed the pistol at Barnet’s exposed back and fired.
There was a sudden shocked silence as the gang leader slumped down onto Jago, then the drawing room door was flung open as Richard Tregear charged in, followed closely by two footmen and Freddy.
∞∞∞
‘I’m sorry Father, but whatever God says, I cannot feel anything other than relief at his death,’ Charity declared with a shudder.
‘I doubt any of us are going to lose any sleep over the varmint’s demise,’ snorted the Reverend. ‘If ever there was a primecandidate for the tea and brimstone club, it was George Barnet.’ He shrugged and took a sip of his brandy. ‘Saved the Revenue men a job if you ask me.’ He paused and sighed. ‘Now Morgan Carlyon? Well, that’s an entirely different matter.’
Charity’s eyes followed her father’s troubled glance to the door where Jago, Morgan and Richard had disappeared after seeing to the removal of the smuggler’s body.
They’d been gone nearly an hour after Jago had briefly returned to inform them that Mrs Penna would be providing some refreshment.
‘I will send word to Philip Lander first thing in the morning,’ he murmured, squeezing her hand. ‘It’s all over love, you have nothing more to fear.’ Heedless of the presence of her father and Percy, Charity jumped up with a small sob and pressed herself into his arms. Closing his eyes, Jago held her tight for a second, then firmly put her from him. ‘I have to speak with my father,’ he whispered, willing her to understand.
Charity had simply nodded and watched him leave.
Since then, there had been no word, and despite having had no dinner, not even Percy felt inclined to eat the cold repast Mrs Penna brought in half an hour later. The housekeeper had been understandably subdued, not to mention entirely confused as to why a dead body had suddenly turned up in their drawing room.
‘Where have they put him, do you know?’ Charity had to ask.
