Page 79 of Against the Wind

Chapter 26

Kit’s meeting with Edward Baines was soon arranged to take place in the sitting room the duke called “the schoolroom.” It was a small room with a white and gold mantelpiece over which hung a picture of a boy with a magnificent dog. Kit had been a bit reluctant to meet with the editor alone and so asked Martin to join her.

Upon greeting him, Kit thought Edward Baines had an interesting face, with a tall forehead, long nose and sparkling hazel eyes, framed by brown hair falling nearly to his shoulders. His friendly sincere smile instantly put her at ease.

“I am looking into some claims only recently brought to my attention about a man named William Oliver, Lady Powell. The duke tells me you may have a drawing of him.”

Kit exchanged a glance with her husband sitting next to her.

“I see the name is known to you both,” Baines said.

“Why, yes,” Martin offered. “From time to time he was in Pentridge, the town where we stayed. The village is not large.”

Kit handed him the drawings she’d brought. “There is one of him among those, I believe,” she said, directing him to one particular sketch and then another. “This one.” She pointed to the picture of the men sitting around a table drinking at the Dog Inn, and to another of Oliver’s face alone.

When the editor turned to the drawing she’d made of the men meeting in the upper room, Kit saw a faint glimmer of surprise on Martin’s face. She had purposely drawn different faces on Martin and John so as not to include their identities among those plotting treason. At the time she did it, she didn’t know why, but now she did. In her heart, she had never counted them among the rebels. Never allowed herself to believe her husband was a traitor. Martin reached for her hand and squeezed it, giving her a grateful smile.

“How did you manage to see this meeting, Lady Powell?” Baines inquired.

Thinking fast she said, “Oh, I was merely passing an open door and found the men’s faces intriguing. I particularly like to draw faces, you see, but I have also made drawings of St. Matthew’s and the cottages in the village. They are among the ones in the stack I’ve given you.”

He seemed to accept her explanation. Then, focusing on the sketch of Oliver, he added, “It’s an interesting face, this one. From what I’ve learned, the man is a kind of Lucifer whose distinguishing characteristic is first to tempt and then to destroy.”

Kit couldn’t agree more. She’d heard the man encouraging the villagers to rise against the government.

“That would match all we have heard,” announced Martin. “He led good villagers astray, and created a zealot in his protégé Jeremiah Brandreth.”

“Ah…the Nottingham Captain,” said Baines, setting down the sketch of Oliver. “It’s certain that one will hang. Do you have any drawings of him, my lady?”

Kit had not brought all her work to show the editor, but she had the one of Brandreth’s face that reflected his zeal for the rebel cause and offered it to Baines. He studied it for a long moment before saying, “The eyes…you’ve captured something there, I think. Perhaps a bit of fanaticism, no?”

“I could not say, sir,” Kit admitted. “But I did see something unusual—a passion perhaps—and tried to draw it as well as I could.”

Baines handed back the sketches. “My evidence suggests that the government was deeply involved in this uprising, perhaps even to the point of encouraging it. There have been allegations by several of my sources that Oliver, who came up from London, was a government man inciting others to illegal acts.”

“Would that be the focus of your article, Mr. Baines?” Martin asked.

“I intend to follow the thread and unravel this ball of twine. Should the allegation that Oliver was a government spy prove to be true, I will bring it to light.” He focused his next statement on Kit. “Your sketches, my lady, will be a welcome accompaniment to my piece if you will allow me to use them.”

“Our understanding from His Grace,” said Martin, “is that you will not disclose the source of the drawings should you use any. And for my wife’s safety, I’d ask you not to use any that would put her in the scene, such as the meeting she happened to observe. Just the ones of the faces you need.”

“I can do that, certainly. I’ve no desire to render your lady the focus of public attention. No, I will be quite careful. I’ve many a source to protect with this story. Not all want to be revealed. She will not be the only one.”

They agreed upon the few sketches the editor could take with him, and he left a pleased man. Once he was gone, Kit turned and said, “I’m curious, Martin. Why did you agree to our meeting with him?”

“Well, it seemed only right we should help the duke’s friend after Hart’s hospitality, but I was also interested to learn if Baines had uncovered Sidmouth’s scheme. Seems he has. I believe in accountability, Kit. Sidmouth and Castlereagh should not be free from scrutiny, nor their spy Oliver.”

“You said nothing of your own role, my love,” she reminded him.

“No, I’ll be saying nothing of my role. That is the Crown’s secret.”

The next day, Kit, Martin and John bade the duke goodbye and left for London. The trip home was uneventful and the weather remained fair for the most part. After the quiet of the country, Town was a jarring assault on Kit’s senses. The noise, the smells and the huge buildings were a decided change from the small white cottages of Pentridge. Even the majesty of Chatsworth had been softened by green slopes dotted with wooly sheep, chirping birds and sweet-smelling country air.

She stepped out of a shop with Mary at her side and let out a sigh as they walked toward the waiting carriage.

“What’s wrong, Kit?”

“Oh, nothing really. It’s just that I did not miss the noise of London and its many foul smells. Derbyshire was so quiet. Even in the midst of a plot to overthrow the government, it was peaceful.”