“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!”
11: Pickering
Tess was exultant. Finally, someone took her seriously and would do something sensible. Lord Tarvin accepted that there was a great heap of gold bars in her house, and he was determined to find a way to get them out, and without her trustees being any the wiser. He would not say much about how he intended to do it, for he said he would need to see the house first, but he would surely find a way.
The whole journey to Pickering had been filled with his questions about the house. He wanted to know the exact layout of all the rooms, and even made her draw a map. Then he wanted to know all about the people who lived there, both the widow and her nieces, and also the servants. He was particularly interested in their habits — when they went out, when they went to bed, what visitors they had and much more besides. And finally, he wanted to know about the office over the coach house and the safe.
“It just had one lock? Not two? Trying to find two keys might be difficult.”
“No, only one key. Papa’s safe at Corland only had one key, and he used to keep it on a hook under his desk. Another minute and I might have had the Pickering safe open.”
“We will have it open soon enough,” he said soothingly.
And then, finally, the fortune her father had wilfully tried to withhold would belong to her, as it should by right. And then… and then… she could marry Tom at last.
Here her heart quailed momentarily. Edward’s sarcastic words rang in her head.‘He will still be the village woodworker, except living on his wife’s money. That will gratify him, I am sure.’He would not like that! A man like Tom, so proud of his little business and making his way by his own skills would not be at all content to be funded by his wife. Perhaps he would not even like to live in her cottage, being used to far more modest accommodation. But he could hardly expect her to live in a hovel, with a maid of all work! The practical aspects had never even crossed her mind, except that she knew she could never live in that tiny room above the workshop.
It was a conundrum, and she was only surprised she had never thought of it before. Still, there would be time enough to work out the details later. The first priority was to find her fortune. Then Tom could be released from prison and they could begin to plan their future together, whatever it was to be.
***
Captain Michael Edgerton was cross. He was cross a great deal of the time just now, ever since Tom Shapman had walked into Corland Castle and confessed to the murder of Mr Arthur Nicholson, the earl’s chaplain. Nine weeks Michael had spent at Corland, nine long weeks of painstakingly interviewing everyone from the earl himself down to the scullery maid, and then the neighbouring families, and not even come close toidentifying the murderer. The miscreant rested in York Gaol now only because his conscience had troubled him and he had confessed.
Although even now doubts remained in Michael’s mind. The means of it, the way the fellow had entered the castle, retrieved the axe, gone up the stairs to Nicholson’s room, and then escaped afterwards — all of that was plausible. He had even explained how it was that no one had noticed the axe in the display on the stairs, since he had hidden it in one of the Chinese urns so that it was handy for his enterprise. But as towhyhe had killed the chaplain, his explanation was deficient. He had wanted to marry the chaplain’s daughter, and been refused, not surprisingly. A woodworker was not a suitable husband for the niece of an earl. So, a year later, he had killed the chaplain, and now he would hang. That made no sense to Michael, when all he needed to do was to wait a few months until the lady was of age and they could marry anyway. Even if he hoped that Tess would inherit a great fortune, was it worth risking the hangman’s noose for?
Now he had another problem. His investigation had finished two weeks ago, ever since Shapman’s confession, but Michael had still to recover the last of his team. Miss Peach was an elderly spinster, once Mrs Edgerton’s governess, but brought out of retirement to play the part of companion while they resided at Corland Castle. The intention was to give her a pleasant holiday, sitting in the drawing room with all the latest journals to amuse her, while she was supplied with endless cups of tea and currant buns. Instead, she had hurled herself into the investigation with glee, initially elbowing her way into the rector’s wife’s circle to hear all the gossip, and latterly in Pickering, pursuing Mr Nicholson’s ventures there.
And now she had disappeared. Michael had been looking for her for two weeks, without any success. It was enough to makehim leave off his investigator’s hat once and for all, and go back to army life. At least there everything was regular and orderly, and he had only to do what he was told and not think too deeply about any of it, or chase round after elderly ladies who vanished off the face of the earth.
So he returned to the inn at Pickering, accompanied by Sandy, his Scottish colleague, in a thoroughly despondent frame of mind. His wife, Luce, was alone in the parlour.
“Anything?” she said eagerly.
He shook his head, removing his sword and laying it on the battered deal table that filled the centre of the small parlour. “No one has seen her, not for weeks.”
“Ah, well, there is a letter for you from Pettigrew, so perhaps he will bring good tidings from Corland.”
While Sandy poured wine for them all, Michael broke the seal on his letter and read the contents aloud.
‘To Captain Michael Edgerton, Black Swan, Pickering. My good friend, we have had an interesting visitation. Miss Tess Nicholson arrived from Harfield Priory late yesterday, just as we were gathering for dinner, in a great state of agitation, having heard that Tom Shapman had confessed to the murder of her father. She protested loudly that he is innocent, but the earl would have none of it. She did not know that Shapman was held at York Gaol, and left this morning to go there. Curiously, she was accompanied by Lord Tarvin. If you recall, he came storming up from town to protect his simple-minded cousin, Mr Frith, although it seems he was unsuccessful, since Miss Nicholson is now officially betrothed to Mr Frith. He is chosen to be the gentleman who will unlock the terms of the late Mr Nicholson’s will, and release her fortune. However, the Lady Alice will not give her permission, so they must wait until the spring before they can marry. I should very much like to know why Lord Tarvin so concerns himself in Miss Nicholson’saffairs that he undertakes to drive her here and there in his carriage. He has gone with her to York, but I do not think it likely that they will be able to have Shapman released. Do you suppose she has any reason for believing in Shapman’s innocence, or it is merely her affectionate female heart that makes her say so? You have never been entirely convinced of Shapman’s guilt, so perhaps this is the key to unlocking that particular mystery. Is there any news regarding Miss Peach? I am becoming quite alarmed by her continued disappearance. I remain your good friend, Pettigrew Willerton-Forbes’
There was silence for a long time, as the three occupants of the room pondered this interesting news. Michael sipped his wine, Sandy absent-mindedly chewed a slice of cherry cake that had been abandoned on a plate, and Luce placidly mended one of Michael’s shirts.
“She is a very odd sort of girl,” Luce said eventually. “Last year she wanted to marry the woodworker. Now she is betrothed to a man she barely knows, of whom strange things are said, and yet when she hears that the woodworker is in prison, she comes haring south in… what did Pettigrew say?‘A great state of agitation’.She is fond of the woodworker, yet she is to marry this other man.”
“Is that not the fate of many women of her class?” Michael said. “Herded into London and married off to the first eligible man to offer for them, or worse, a match made by her parents when she was in the cradle. Few aristocratic women marry for love.”
“Oh indeed, and many of them live to regret it,” Luce said at once. “An earl’s niece and a woodworker? It would never do, and they would both be miserable.”
“And you are a baron’s daughter and an earl’s cousin, and yet you married a common soldier,” Michael said softly. “You hide your misery very well, my dear.”
Luce laid down her sewing and smiled at him. “Michael, you cannot compare our situation with theirs. You are a gentleman’s son, after all, a great many rungs on the social ladder above a woodworker. I had only a modest dowry, so you brought more money to the marriage than I did. A common soldier indeed!”
