“Lady Anne Daintith’s kidnappers collected the ransom from here.”
The innkeeper’s mouth pulled down. “A tragic business. They’d hidden the money in our garden wall, of all places. I knew nothing about it until a Bow Street runner came a few days later. Then a maid mentioned having seen something stuffed in between the stones. A pity she didn’t tell me about it straight away.”
“I have heard the story and find it of great interest. Can you show me where?”
The innkeeper looked startled but then smiled. “Of course. I suppose people have been talking about it as far as London, haven’t they? Can’t say whether it’s good or bad for business, though. This way, sir.” He led the way out of the building and across the lawn. People chatted and laughed together, enjoying the warm day.
“They shoved it inside here.” Greystones pointed to a large crevice in the rock wall.
“What an extraordinary business!” Damian squatted down and peered into the cleft. Nothing there now. If it had rained, the ransom wouldn’t have been protected. It seemed an unexpected choice for the kidnappers to make. Someone must have been on hand to snatch the money away as soon as it had been left, which led him to believe it was most likely one of Greystones’s staff. “Do you have any idea why they would have chosen your establishment, sir?”
Greystones shrugged his beefy shoulders. “The Bow Street runner talked to all my servants but found no answer.”
“A friend at Bow Street told me of this crime. Seeing as we were passing through, I said I’d look into the matter. I should like to question them before we depart in the morning.”
“Certainly, although one of my servants has since left.”
“When was this?”
“Just before Bow Street called. Joseph Smythe. He was only just hired, too. Worked in the stables.”
“His reason for leaving? Or was he let go?”
“No. He expressed the wish to find work closer to his mother’s home.”
“Do you know where he works now?” Damian asked as they returned to the inn.
“I wish I could help you, Mr. Beaufort. This has created a lot of unwelcome interest.”
“Might you know where his mother lives?
“I do, as it happens,” Greystones said eagerly. “Smythe’s ma came to visit him the day before he left. Told a maid she lives near Chitterne, about twenty miles from here.”
Damian nodded. “Thank you. You’ve been helpful. I’ll have a brandy in the parlor while I wait for my cousin.”
“Certainly, Mr. Beaufort.”
Ten minutes later, Lady Diana joined Damian in the parlor. She had changed into a green-and-white striped gown. She looked endearing, her eyes shining with excitement, and he found her far too appealing.
In the dining room, the meal was plain fare but well cooked. Cauliflower soup, roast hare—the inn’s specialty, rhubarb and custard, cheese and a plate of nuts. As they dined, he related his conversation with Greystones.
She put down her wineglass, her eyes wide with interest. “So this fellow, Joseph Smythe, left Greystones’s employment after Anne’s family had paid the ransom?”
“A few days later.”
“You must admit that sounds suspicious.”
“Perhaps. Tomorrow, we’ll visit his mother.”
She smiled. “That is good news.”
He wished she wouldn’t get so buoyed up. “It’s not much to go on.”
“But it is something,” she stressed.
“Let’s hope so. I intend to return you to your friend’s home in Bath before nightfall tomorrow.”
“I don’t see why you must rush. They don’t expect me.” With a frown, she held up her empty wineglass. “May I have another?”
