Cheating the Hangman (14 page)

Our mutual farewells were warm and expansive: Longstaff insisted on scribbling a note to Edmund entreating him to visit with a view to taking on his wife as a patient. Then Maria resumed the ribbons again, taking us not to the rectory but to Langley Park.

‘Burns wants to talk to you about the cricket team,’ she said. ‘And indeed we could not ask poor Mrs Trent to feed quite so many medical men. But we will keep town hours, and it may be that you want to withdraw to your bedchamber here for a few minutes’ rest.’

I did indeed. And fell asleep so quickly that I was hardly aware of the admirable Marsh pulling off my boots.

The news that greeted me as I awoke remarkably refreshed from my doze was that Dan still possessed both legs. According to Marsh, whom Edmund had despatched to help me dress, Captain Keble, now retired from active service following the death of his father and the need to take over the family estates, had brought more than a sharp saw with him; he and his former batman, a bustling little man called Wells, had engaged to try some new fomentations and would stay the night at the rectory to ensure that they were regularly replaced. Binns could therefore return to Toone. Such was their devotion to duty that they were even prepared to endure Mrs Trent’s cooking, Keble averring that the cuisine he’d experienced during his early years in the army had inured him to tough meat and rough wine. At least my cellar would need no apologies.

When I made my way down to the drawing room, there was no Burns to announce me. In what was effectively my second home, however, I did not wait on ceremony, letting
myself in quietly, to find Jem, of whom I seemed to have seen remarkably little during my short illness, and Burns himself in deep discussion. Cricket. So Mrs Hansard had not been telling a kindly untruth. We still lacked a couple of men, Hansard having declared himself too old for the game. Jem was keen to push young Robert’s claims, but Burns insisted he was too young to be blooded in a full eleven. Our host and hostess entered before the matter had been satisfactorily resolved.

Before long, Toone appeared, and Burns, resuming with aplomb his more usual duties, served us all to sherry. My great desire was to press Jem to reveal the local news he must have gleaned from the schoolchildren. But in line with our unspoken convention I waited until dinner was over and Burns had withdrawn from the dining room.

As one we looked at my oldest friend, who rewarded us with a smile. ‘If I have neglected you all while Toby was ill,’ he said, ‘it is because I have been talking to my young charges and to their parents. But they hail if not from Moreton St Jude’s itself then from Moreton Episcopi. A lot of folk admit to knowing that there’s trouble in Clavercote, but none speaks openly of it.’

‘Is there any way we – you! – can probe further? It would be good to know whom I have offended – and how, of course.’

‘I tell you, I’ve not heard of anything precise – they’re not complaining about your doctrine, for instance,’ he added with a dry smile.

‘Hardly surprising since so few of them attend Divine Service,’ I said more tartly than I intended. ‘It seems to me that it was my visit to Sarey Tump that has provoked
a response I simply do not understand. Surely it is not unusual for a man of the cloth to visit a woman caring for – adopting! – another’s babe? But without Mrs Trent’s admirable sangfroid, I fear that matters would have turned ugly. Truly ugly. Alas, the poor woman had been so busy I have not had a chance to discuss it with her.’

‘Not to mention your being otherwise engaged,’ Toone agreed. ‘So is this Clavercote a village of misanthropists? Or are they so inbred they regard any interloper with hostility?’

‘There is one way to find out,’ I declared. ‘I will write to tell Boddice and Lawton to summon all the villagers to a meeting at one tomorrow on the village green, where I will address them. I cannot believe that Squire Lawton did not set up a hue and cry once he heard what had happened to me. Men do not spring from nowhere only to disappear God knows where. If I appear before them with my bruises still vivid, perhaps it will touch someone’s conscience.’

There was a stunned silence.

At last Jem said, ‘If Edmund thinks you are well enough, I cannot think of a better plan.’

‘But the risks!’ Maria cried.

‘Fewer risks if you are accompanied by the militia,’ Toone said.

‘On the contrary, far more! Those men are ready to riot – what do they have to lose? Death by shooting would be more honourable and much quicker than death by starvation. Some might even see the horrors of transportation to Australia as the chance to start a better life in a new land once their sentence is served.’

‘Tobias is right. There must be no provocation,’ Jem said. ‘My only recommendation is that Toby leaves off his clerical bands and isn’t tempted to wear his fancy new coat.’

‘Which the carrier has yet to deliver,’ I pointed out. ‘You want me, Jem, to stand as an ordinary human being, not a man of God?’

‘I do indeed. And I fear you had best go on your own – with only me to drive you.’

Maria spoke first. ‘I fear that Jem is right that an additional trio of us might well be a provocation. But I beg you to reconsider. A soft answer might turn away the wrath of an angry man, but an angry mob is like an animal with several heads. You have to persuade each one. And you are very far from well – look how exhausted you were after even the minor exertions of today. Edmund!’ she appealed, in the face of his silence.

‘I cannot be stronger in my medical opposition to the scheme – all that blood I took from you! You will be as weak as a kitten! – but I can see its advantages as a means of getting information. Surely the mob would not turn on a man on his own. No, I know not what to say.’ He left the room abruptly.

‘Very well. So it is decided. Let us talk of this no more. I will write notes to the wardens, with your permission, Maria, and would ask Burns to ensure their delivery first thing in the morning. That done, Toone, there is nothing I would like better than to hear some music.’

Two songs were enough to draw my friend back into the room. I could no more have made him happy by giving
up what even I could see might be a foolhardy enterprise than I could have given up my vocation to suit my father’s notions.

Toone and Jem made an extraordinary effort to introduce some light conversation into the charged room, but even with Maria’s efforts and my own the venture was a failure in the face of Edmund’s obvious distress.

‘I suppose I must give my blessing to this crazy expedition, Tobias. But I have a question to raise first. It has been agreed that you present yourself as a common man. This is to imply that there is something about your profession that has provoked wrath. Is there anything to suggest that the two curates that the archdeacon despatched suffered similar antagonism?’

‘Not to my knowledge. All I heard was that the churchwardens were not impressed by the preaching of either of them. But neither did they argue when I suggested that the curates instituted a form of Sunday school, even though the cost of the food I suggested as an enticement would be paid for by the wardens themselves.’ I paused. ‘It begins to sound as if I am the cause of their resentment.’

‘Or just the focus of it?’ Toone put in. ‘How did the real incumbent get on with his obstreperous flock?’

‘Who knows? I cannot imagine the archdeacon giving me an undiplomatically straight answer, can you, Mrs Hansard?’ I smiled at her, as she stared into her glass, apparently preoccupied by the bubbles.

‘That toad! Indeed I am so glad of the presence of not one but two military men at the rectory tonight.’ She gasped. ‘I fear that was a very undiplomatic observation.
Forgive me, my friends. But indeed I cannot warm to the man, right-hand man to the bishop though he be.’

With a sour laugh, Toone made a slight circular movement with his index finger as if to take us back a step in the conversation. ‘How on earth can a rector, such a vital figure in a small community, simply absent himself?’ Toone demanded.

Jem laughed. ‘Not all rectors are like Toby, believe me. You wouldn’t notice if some of them flit the coop.’

‘What neither the archdeacon nor I could understand is why Coates should eschew safe English spas in favour of one on the Continent,’ I said. ‘But that was what he told the bishop – by letter, I gather, without even the courtesy of a personal request.’

‘And no one knows which spa? Not even the bishop?’

‘I have not spoken to the bishop personally, of course. The archdeacon has told me all I know – and it seemed all that he knew. And there was no reason for me to be informed. All I was asked to do was take his place for two or three services.’

‘Has the archdeacon said anything about trying to summon him back?’

‘Nothing. Edmund, you look very pensive.’

He nodded slowly. ‘Toone, you move in more distinguished circles than I – do you have acquaintances who might frequent fashionable watering places abroad?’

‘Of course. But they have the common sense to remain in England until Napoleon is finally defeated.’

Edmund and I looked each other straight in the eye. I nodded as reluctantly as if he had asked a terrible question – which in a sense he had.

‘My father,’ I began, ‘my father has friends and acquaintances in the Diplomatic Corps – from lowly consuls to senior ambassadors. He would ask on your behalf, Edmund.’

‘I think he would rather ask on your behalf,’ he said firmly. He added with an impish smile, ‘The sooner your new clothes arrive the better, even if you do not wear them to Clavercote.’

The following morning, back at the rectory, it seemed that Dan was slightly improved, though still feverish. Keble and Wells would not leave until a crisis had arisen – either of healing or one calling for their skills with knife and saw. They withdrew to a respectful distance when, kneeling beside Dan’s bed, I asked the Almighty for His assistance, but did not join me. Perhaps the contents of my study, which they told me they had established as their headquarters, had more than satisfied their taste for prayer.

Mrs Trent learnt of my proposed trip to Clavercote with alarm in her eyes but no verbal protest, other than to say that she would prefer me not to take Robert with me. Indeed, she was remarkably phlegmatic, merely asking if I would as usual be dining at Langley Park.

‘I should imagine that the Clavercote churchwardens will invite me to share a nuncheon to discuss what was revealed this morning – after all, I have asked them to organise everything. And I cannot imagine I could fail to report back to the Hansards. So I fear the earliest you can look for me is tomorrow, after matins. How would you feel if I were to invite Mr Mead and Mr Tufnell and their wives to join me for breakfast?’

‘Give over, Master Tobias, do – it’s neither here nor there what I think and feel.’

‘But you are already cooking for an invalid and his doctors, and have all the extra responsibility for Dan’s bedlinen too, since his sheets have to be changed so often.’

‘Dan eats like a fly and I’ve taken the liberty of asking the laundrywoman to come here every other day, Sundays excepted, of course.’

‘Excellent. Remind me when you come to settle her account: this is something for which you had not budgeted.’

Feeling strangely as if I was about to start a long journey and wanted to bid my church farewell, I made my way to St Jude’s, to look at each well-loved cranny before spending time in prayer. The striking of the clock came unnaturally loud.

It was time I asked Robert to bring round the gig.

Jem insisted on bringing his new dog with him, though I could not feel that Cribb would bring any dignity to the event. We trotted gently through the hedgerows, and kept conversation to the following week’s cricket match with Abbots Maine. We even spoke about the likely origin of the name – perhaps Maine was a corruption of demesne. But I had an untoward heaviness about my heart. When Jem pointed out that I could still cry off I felt as if I were Hamlet talking to Horatio before the fateful fight. I dismissed the analogy instantly, and concentrated on looking ahead to see the churchwardens, who would surely be waiting to greet me.

They were not. Just a straggling group of villagers, arms folded implacably across their bodies and eyes full of resentment. This did not look like a gathering of people
who would exchange information in a free and friendly way. Mentally I revised what I was going to say and how I might better say it. In the end I admitted I was sorely afraid and did what I ought to have done at the start: I implored God to give me wisdom. And strength.

All would be well, and all manner of things would be well.

I had expected sullenness, even anger – but I had not expected to see a rope, quickly joined by another, slung over a branch of the oak tree on the edge of the green. Nor had I predicted that the horse should be seized, and the whole equipage, Jem and me still aboard, would be dragged towards them. Jem clamped his hand over Cribb’s mouth, and glanced at me. It was many years since I’d seen this rock of calm look frightened. He did no more than mirror my own expression.

Should I whip the horse into action to try to free us that way? The attempt would almost certainly be futile, and an accidental slash across the face of our captors would rightly enrage them.

Second by second, they inched us closer. Jem’s life depended on me. Somehow I must save him.

By now we were directly under the tree.

Somewhere my brain registered that my hands were still unbound, Jem’s too. Jem would not submit to that without a struggle, any more than I would. If only the accident
had not left me so weak. I couldn’t have hit the head off a dandelion.

‘Leave it to me,’ Jem muttered. ‘Cribb and I can create a bit of a diversion and you can slip away.’

‘If you knocked five down, ten more would spring up. And how far would I get? Two paces?’

‘Damn it, we can’t just sit here and wait for them all polite and helpful!’

‘Of course we can’t. But we do have Someone on our side.’

‘You think we can wait for divine intervention?’

‘I can’t think of anything else.’ Even if I couldn’t frame a prayer, assuredly he knew my need. If it was His will that I die, then so be it. Not Jem, though. He had always got me out of scrapes. Now I must make a push to save him.
Dear Lord, be at my right hand now!

I felt impelled to stand up, as if to make it easier for them to fit the noose round my neck. But then I found my voice. ‘Brothers and sisters,’ I said, as if I was in the safety of St Jude’s, and trying to ensure that all heard the collect, ‘why this anger? Why this threat of violence? And why, for goodness’ sake, if you hate me, do you hate Jem too? A decent working man, if ever there was one! For your conscience’ sake, let Jem walk free, I pray you.’

There was silence, then a rumble of conversation. Women’s voices grew louder. I heard words like
ashamed of yourselves
and
cowards
. Under cover of the noise I hissed, ‘Do not argue, but go. Run. Save yourself. Promise me. Promise me.’

He did not speak, but looked me in the eye. He gave an infinitesimal nod. Soon he was manhandled down, Cribb
still secure in his arms, and pushed through the crowd to safety.

It was time to speak again. ‘Thank you, my friends. That was both generous and just. Now accord me the same justice. If I am to die, at least let me know why. What in God’s name have I ever done to harm you? I swear to you that I have only ever striven to do you good.’

Because of the thudding of my heart, re-echoing through my ears, I could not tell what people at the edge of the crowd were saying. Were they baying for my blood, or protesting that I should continue to speak?

Two men leapt up beside me, twine at the ready to bind my wrists. I could smell their sweat – their fear, their hunger, their poor rotting teeth.

I did not proffer my wrists but stood as tall as I might. I did not fear death. We all had to come before the Judgement Seat, where I trusted my Saviour to speak on my behalf, sooner or later. Yes, I had hoped it would be later – I still had so much work to do. But I did not relish the physical indignities of death – would I scream? Would I void my bladder, my bowels?

There was movement in the crowd.

I thought I picked out a woman’s voice. Surely it was Sarey’s? She would testify for me if she wasn’t shouted down. But what was one voice against those calling for revenge for Molly? Why Molly? Why me?

I spread my hands. ‘Brothers and sisters, how can my death avenge Molly’s? I never met the poor maid. Never in my life. Though she was driven to take her own life, I would have given her a Christian burial here in your churchyard. Has not our Master told us,
Judge not that
ye be not judged!
’ Suddenly I was tempted: I wanted to accuse Mr Snowdon in my stead. Should I? Dare I? I had no grounds apart from one fleeting glimpse. Surely it was the devil whispering in my ear! No, I would say nothing that I did not know to be true. ‘Surely you know that I would give anything to bring her vile seducer to justice? Surely you know that I am here to serve you in whatever ways I can? Had I not been visiting one of your own friends on his deathbed would I have been set on by footpads and nearly done to death?’ In a horribly theatrical gesture, I tore off my neckcloth and showed them my bruises. ‘Even now a poor stranger who came to my rescue lies at death’s door.’

There was more murmuring, still not wholly friendly. But then a woman’s voice called out strongly, and everyone turned to look at her because she was riding a splendid horse. Astride it. Clutching a small boy to keep her in place.

Robert halted Titus long enough for her to sit tall and speak. ‘You’ve all had your say, and not much of it sense either, from what I hear. Where are you, Sarey Tump? And that wastrel husband of yours? Jim? Show your faces if you dare. And hold up young Joseph, who would assuredly be dead if it hadn’t been for that good young man.’

Robert nudged Titus nearer. Mrs Trent could not decently dismount without help. Titus was beside me. My gig was to be her mounting block, I her groom. Robert remained glued to Titus’s back, Titus pressing himself to me. Robert flashed me a smile that in anyone else I would have thought encouraging. Perhaps it was. I smiled back.

‘Thought we’d best come,’ he said. ‘Just in case.’

Mrs Trent smoothed her skirts and adjusted her bonnet.
‘That’s better.’ She turned again to the crowd. ‘Now, get rid of those damned nooses, before anyone thinks to tell the militia about it. Go on: both of them.’ Arms akimbo she looked about her. ‘And where is the squire, may I ask? And Farmer Boddice? Humph!’ As if she were saving that topic up for later, she continued, ‘What children you all are, picking on an innocent man just because you can’t find the guilty one. You owe Dr Campion more than you’ll ever know because he’s a man who does good by stealth, like the Bible tells us. Now, he came to talk to you all particular – suppose you get him a glass of that rubbishy stuff that passes for ale at the Dun Cow and when he’s wet his whistle, you can all stand still and listen.’

The first sip tasted like nectar. Only then did I realise that the ale was indeed thin and sour and I left the rest untouched.

This time the silence was expectant.

‘Thank you, my friends, and may God in His mercy remember you in all your troubles. Mrs Trent has spoken kindly but truthfully: I am trying to improve your lot, which heaven knows is bad enough. But I fear that I have indeed done something that has caused you great offence, and if you do not want to shout it out, perhaps you will speak to me in private and I will do my best to put it right. But I also need your help. As you know, a man was killed horribly just before Easter. Sooner or later it will not just be me and my friends trying to apprehend the murderer – the full force of the law will descend on Clavercote, and you know what will happen then: many secrets best kept hidden will be exposed. And, whether I wanted it or not, someone would be brought to justice for the attack on me. I am prepared
to forgive and forget if my assailants are men enough to ask my pardon. But the Bow Street Runners would not understand that. If my rescuer, a homeless soldier, dies, the Runners may consider that he was murdered. Consider that. Remember: if someone confesses, I will do my best to protect him. Otherwise the best I can do is pray with him as he ascends the gallows.’ I could say no more. Indeed, I could do no more. Weariness washed over me in a great tide. My body folding of its own accord, I sank to my knees.

Perhaps the crowd thought I was praying. I ought to have been. And soon was, as I heard braver voices than some reciting the Lord’s Prayer. I managed to add my amen before a roaring tide filled my ears and a swirling mist closed my eyes and I was no more.

I knew I ought to recognise the face swimming before me, but could place neither it nor the sunny room where I lay. Soon I sneezed horribly – someone was waving burnt feathers under my nose while another hand proffered a vinaigrette.

‘There you are, Master Toby: you’ll be as right as ninepence in a moment.’

‘Mrs Trent?’

‘Now just you lie still. You’re here in Taunton Lodge, on account of Mr Longstaff’s rescuing you.’

‘Rescuing me?’

‘Aye. Jem ran all the way to Taunton Lodge, that being the nearest dwelling, and begged for help. Mr Longstaff sent straight off for Dr Hansard. He and Jem were already riding hell for leather down the road towards Clavercote when they came across young Robert and Titus heading
straight towards them. As for me, Master Toby, it’s some time since I drove a gig, specially one as fine as yours, but there’s some things you don’t forget, and I was heading that way too. Only more slowly,’ she added.

‘That’s three times you’ve saved my life,’ I whispered.

‘Get along with you, do. Dr Hansard will look in when he’s not so occupied. It seems Mrs Longstaff’s pains started with the upset. Such a to-do you’ve created. And nothing to show for it all,’ she added, with the sort of reproving look my mother used to give me when I came home in all my dirt after a youthful adventure.

I managed to laugh. ‘At least I learnt to trust your judgement in the matter of that beer. Vile, bitter stuff. But perhaps strong enough to go straight to my head since I was imbibing on an empty stomach? I cannot imagine why else I should have collapsed as I did – unless it was the memory of you galloping in like Boadicea. Mrs Trent – you, riding astride Titus!’

‘Robert riding Titus, and me clinging on for dear life. Now, Master Toby, will you do the sensible thing and sleep a little more?’

I looked at her quizzically. ‘I’d rather have a mouthful of tea and a slice of toast. If Longstaff’s household isn’t in too much chaos with the baby on its way?’

‘If it is, you may trust me to set it back in order again.’

Within minutes she reappeared. My paragon of a saviour had somehow contrived to burn the toast, but it tasted like manna from heaven.

Before I felt strong enough to find Jem and bid farewell to my kind host and would-be rescuer, the screams
from upstairs became more frequent and more urgent. Longstaff’s heir would surely not be long in coming. Hansard, looking unwontedly anxious, despatched Jem in my gig to recruit a midwife whose services he could trust; until she arrived, both Mrs Trent and Maria were with the poor mother-to-be. Longstaff meanwhile paced about wringing his hands, telling anyone within earshot that he should have stayed in London where he would have commanded the services of Sir William Knighton, not some country sawbones.

I pushed him into his study, strewn with sheet upon sheet of scrawled-on and screwed-up paper. My intention was to give him a bear-garden jaw for undermining my friend’s efforts and for alarming his servants who might carry his opinions to his wife. Then I would invite him to join me in prayer. However, he no sooner saw the mess than he fell upon one of the sheets with a cry of triumph. Sitting at his desk, he was soon absorbed in his rhymes; it was not long before more sheets accrued on the floor.

With time obviously on my hands – I could not suggest that I leave for home if a difficult birth was in train and I might be needed, even if I could offer no more than prayers, my emergency case being still at the rectory, of course – I asked if I might have paper and ink, taking his grunt as an affirmative. This time my letters to Lawton and Boddice were couched in less friendly terms. They were to present themselves to me at two-thirty the following afternoon, it being the Sabbath notwithstanding. Robert could take Titus for a little more exercise, returning home via Clavercote where he would deliver my missives.

‘Ride Titus again?’ His face was transformed.

‘Of course. But this is not an emergency, so I want you to have more care for your neck and for his. Robert, will you and Susan be able to fend for yourselves this evening? Those two military men will still be there, and of course Mrs Trent is with Mrs Longstaff, and I feel I must stay. Just in case.’

He looked around, sucking his teeth in the way Jem occasionally did. ‘I dare say this ’un will have an ivory teething ring?’

‘Probably two. But none more precious than the one you whittled. Off you go. And say a prayer.’

‘Just in case, eh, sir?’

‘Just in case.’

The baby made its appearance before Jem returned with the midwife, and was pronounced by Hansard to be a pretty, taking little girl. Mrs Longstaff was tired, but perhaps not as exhausted as her husband, who had completed another seven lines almost to his satisfaction. Mrs Trent, no longer needed as a nurse, was already anxious about returning home, being unused to driving at night, particularly when there was no moon. Jem, clasping my hand with unusual fervour, offered to lead the way, if Longstaff could lend him one of his hacks. I declared myself fit to handle the ribbons and so the three of us made a decorous return to the rectory, Cribb providing a rather fidgety warmer for our feet.

Cribb at his heels, Jem led Longstaff’s hack and the gig pony straight to the stables while I handed down Mrs Trent. Almost before her feet touched terra firma, Jem returned, dragging both Robert and Susan with him.

‘Look who I found bedded down together in there!’ he thundered, furious that his special charge should have let him down. ‘You should be ashamed, the pair of you, taking advantage while Mrs Trent’s back is turned. Toby, I’ll be giving this young whelp of yours the benefit of my belt.’

Mrs Trent, pointed, brooking no argument. ‘Get indoors, do, Susan: I’ll speak to you later! You too, Robert – I’ll have my say and then Mr Jem will have his.’

But Robert dawdled, even as her hand fell on his shoulder. I thought I heard him whisper, ‘Please, Dr Campion, sir, it was just in case.’