“Jealous, are you?”
“I am not jealous of a common labourer, Tess.”
“He isnota common labourer, he is a skilled craftsman, an artisan, someone to be respected, as he respected me.”
“Tom Shapman is a working man who respected you because you are the niece of an earl. If you had ever had the misfortune to become his wife, you would have found out just how much he respected you. As his wife, he would have owned you, body andsoul, and you would have had to do whatever he wanted. Not much freedom in that, is there?”
“If I had had my money—”
“He would have owned that, too. Tess, the only man who will treat a lady with the respect due to her rank is agentleman. No working man, however worthy, can truly appreciate the world you inhabit, the restrictions society places on you. Your father understood that, and it is time you did, too.”
She jumped to her feet, obliging him to stand, too. “Go away, Edward! Go back to London or wherever you were, and stop meddling in my life. Whatyouneed to understand is that my life is my own, and I will not be pushed around by you or anyone else. You are just like my uncle — you think all I need is a suitable husband, and suddenly everything will be wonderful. Well, it will not. If I cannot have my own money, then I shall not marry at all, and certainly not you!”
With a swirl of her black skirts, she was gone, leaving Edward torn between anger and despair.
20: Captain Edgerton Investigates
Captain Michael Edgerton rode slowly down the road to Birchall village, and thence to Westwick heights, home of Mr George Atherton, younger brother to the Earl of Rennington. Mr Atherton, a genial man of around fifty, was at home and received him at once.
“John Whyte, eh?” Atherton said, handing Michael a glass of Canary. “He is an excellent groom, Edgerton. I sincerely hope this is a routine enquiry, and you are not going to haul him off to York Gaol.”
“I do not anticipate that, no, but he is Arthur Nicholson’s natural son, the only one we know of, and he discovered that fact shortly before the man was murdered. Added to which, his family is… well, inclined to be argumentative. There was a rowdy meeting at the White Horse with a great deal of anger expressed about Nicholson, and then mere days later the man is dead. I have to look into it, and would have done so sooner if Whyte had not been away in Lincolnshire with Mr Bertram Atherton.By the time he returned, Shapman had confessed and it seemed unnecessary to look at Whyte. But now…”
“Quite, quite. Shapman has retracted his confession and your attention naturally switches back to Whyte. I do see your point.”
“The visit to Lincolnshire… Whyte did not return with Mr Bertram, I understand?”
“No, he travelled separately with Bertram’s horse, Catullus, and there was an incident at a toll-gate. The horse was slightly injured, and Whyte thought it best to walk him home, all the way from Lincolnshire. Then he was so terrified of arriving with an injured horse that he stayed at his sister’s farm until he was quite sure there was no permanent damage. None of which we would have minded, but he was missing for two weeks with not a word, and we were worried, I can tell you. We had visions of the boy lying dead in a ditch somewhere, and how would we have faced his mother? And naturally we wondered if he had run off because he knew you wanted to talk to him. Bertram entrusted him with a very expensive horse and a purse heavy enough to cover all possible contingencies, so if he had been guilty, he could have quietly disappeared and that would have been the end of it.”
“But he came back,” Michael said thoughtfully. “That alone testifies to his innocence.”
“Yes, indeed. Not that we truly doubted it, since the other grooms swear he was in his bed all night, and I know them well enough to take their word for it. Besides, he is a good lad, Captain, a hard worker and willing, which not all the grooms are. When Bertram marries, he will take one of our footmen to the Dower House and I plan to train Whyte up to replace him. Just whenever we need an extra pair of hands, of course, for he is far too good with the horses to be banished from the stables entirely.”
“The legacy of growing up in a smithy,” Michael said easily.
“Indeed. How do you wish to talk to him — alone?”
“The boy is only sixteen. It might be helpful if someone he knows is with him, if only to reassure him that he is not in danger of losing his place here.”
“Of course. Then I shall accompany you, if I may, Edgerton. Such a reassurance will be most effective coming from me, I warrant.”
They had to wait a few minutes at the stables for Whyte to return from exercising one of the horses, but it gave Michael an opportunity to observe how comfortable he was in the saddle. He was riding a spirited hunter, yet controlled him without effort despite being a shade undersized for his age. His face was aglow with enthusiasm, but as soon as he saw Atherton and Michael waiting for him, his expression froze into sheer terror.
“There you are, Whyte!” Atherton called to him cheerfully, as soon as he clattered into the yard. “Here’s Captain Edgerton come down from Corland to have a word with you. Let Moreton see to Bradwell, and you come into the office for a few minutes.”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir,” he muttered, dismounting with youthful agility and watching sadly as the horse was led away. It was clear he would have infinitely preferred the mundane chore of rubbing down to the horror of questioning by Michael.
The stable office was the usual scatter of papers, bits of tack, a couple of saddles, and shelves laden with all manner of unidentifiable oddments. Atherton moved things off chairs for Whyte and Michael and himself took the worn leather chair where the head groom usually sat.
“Now then, Whyte, since Shapman’s confession has fallen apart, Captain Edgerton is back in search of Nicholson’s murderer, you see, and you can help him.”
“I don’t know nothing about it, sir!” Whyte said, panic in his eyes. “I didn’t do it, don’t know who did. I were here all night, the other lads will vouch for me.”
“Indeed they will,” Michael said soothingly, “and already have, in fact. So no one suspects you of committing the murder, Whyte.”
“Certainly not,” Atherton said hastily. “No thought of that whatsoever, and no danger of you losing your place here, none at all. But you might still know something that would be useful to the captain.”
“But I don’t, sir, truly I don’t!”
