“That is beyond our means. However, we will make a journey with my cousin and her husband. They live in Birmingham. That is where Rebecca has been—visiting their home.”
“Better to wait until autumn,” Jasmine said. “Soon town will be full of young bloods, and once they see Rebecca, you will be sorry you brought her. Why, the whole group of you will be little better than mice strolling through a field full of feral cats.”
Ophelia glanced at her sister, then caught Eva’s eye. “I am sure my sister will give you some letters of introduction to artists. Won’t you, Jasmine?”
“I suppose I will, so my sister does not sulk,” Jasmine said.
“I envy you, Miss Russell,” Ophelia said. “I always enjoyed town during the Season.”
“You certainly did.” Jasmine’s voice dripped with innuendo.
Ophelia flushed.
Eva drank her tea.
CHAPTER 16
Most of the investigations that led to Gareth riding to Derbyshire had occurred through the mail. Over dinner at Chatsworth during Gareth’s visit there, the duke’s special secretary, Mr. Montley, had provided a few details hitherto unknown. The most interesting information had been the name of the transport company hired to bring all those paintings north, Underhill’s of Ramsgate.
A query to Underhill’s in turn produced the names of the teamsters who drove the wagons. Underhill’s kept records in good English fashion, and even had the towns and parishes for those men. A few more letters and Gareth had the locations of two of them.
He rode into the village of Bellestream to pay a call on Mr. Ogden, who had moved north to live at an old family property after an ox kick had broken one of his legs two years earlier, ending his teamster days forever. The property consisted of a small cottage on a spot of land hugging the edge of the village. The ground flanking the walk to the door displayed the first shoots of the reawakening garden.
Mr. Ogden came to the door and eyed Gareth with curiosity and suspicion. Completely bald but with thick eyebrows over small eyes, Ogden appeared a hearty man of considerable girththat his waistcoat struggled to contain. The ox that took him on must have been very brave.
Gareth handed over his card and Ogden spent a long time peering at it before inviting him in. Ogden limped to a nearby room and they settled on chairs in a sitting room full of patterns and frills. Ogden gazed around as if he had never seen the place before and had suddenly realized how out of place he appeared.
“My aunt lived here till she died,” he said with a grin. Two of his teeth were missing. Another ox kick perhaps. “My days at the reins were over, so I moved here.”
“It is your days at the reins I want to talk about. I have been sent by an agent of Parliament to assist an inquiry by the Lords.”
“The House of Lords sent you? Well, now, that explains the oddness of a gentleman showing up at my cottage. Are the lords looking into the sorry state of the roads? I can bend your ear a good while on that.”
“I will inform them of your willingness and ability to give information on the roads. Right now, however, the inquiry regards the transportation of a large number of crates by the Underhill company some twenty years ago. They informed me you were one of the teamsters. This journey started near Ramsgate at the estate of one of the lords, and ended in Derbyshire at the property of another. There were five wagons.”
Ogden’s ham of a hand came down hard on his knee. “I remember it well. Awkward crates, all different sizes. We were warned we would be drawn and quartered if we opened any, as if after sitting on a board all day we would be wanting to pry into the cargo. Lots of threats there were, and admonishments not to dally or detour or leave the wagons. We had to sleep right in with the crates, and take turns going to piss.”
“Did anyone inquire about the cargo, either before you set out or along the way?”
“Raised some interest, it did. Bound to when five big wagons lumber down the road in a line. Since we knew nothing, we had nothing to talk about though.”
“Come now. Did you not guess? The size and shape of those crates must have inspired some speculations for an experienced man like yourself.”
Ogden grinned. “If it’s my thinking you want—They reminded me of the time I transported a huge looking glass from the coast to London. The special kind, like kings have in their palaces, not some polished metal or small curved thing. Big and flat it was, and as tall as a ballroom, and crated up much like what I drove that journey. So I said to myself, maybe this is a cargo of looking glasses, all different sizes, that the lord wants for his manor house.” His eyebrows rose expectantly, waiting to hear if he were correct.
“You were very clever, and very close.” It sounded neat, and almost plausible, except it made no sense. Who would transport five wagons of plate looking glasses under secrecy? It came out too easily, too, as if Ogden had prepared the answer, in anticipation of being asked about it one day.
“I must ask a few pointed questions now. It would help if you answered directly and simply. You will not be in any trouble if an answer is not what may be considered the correct one. Do you understand?”
Ogden nodded.
“Did you in fact stay with the wagons the whole way? Were you at any time away from the others?”
“As I said, when I had to piss.”
“Longer than that.”
Ogden chuckled. “Well, sometimes I had to do more than piss, sir.”
