Moon Cutters (26 page)

‘Why not? Was that who Adrian Taunt was?’

‘For your own good, don’t meddle in something that doesn’t concern you.’ Mrs Pridie departed, her feathers clearly ruffled.

Curling up on the bed with the journal, Miranda began to read it again, to get events clear in her mind. Everything slotted into place. She must warn Lucy to hide the journal when she returned.

She gazed into space for a moment and frowned. Where exactly was her sister?

After Fletcher dispatched the doctor and the undertaker to the church, he visited Oswald Avery in his office and handed him a package. ‘I was asked to deliver this to you, Oswald.’

Oswald turned it over. ‘Who’s it from?’

‘It was handed to me by a monk, on behalf of Reverend Swift, who has unfortunately died.’

Oswald’s smile still lingered when he shifted his gaze from the package to Fletcher, but his eyes were cautious. ‘A monk, you say … Are you serious? There have always been apparitions sighted at Monksfoot, but I didn’t think you’d be susceptible to such vagaries of the imagination.’

‘This monk was as real as you and me. He wasn’t an apparition, and neither was he an ordinary monk.’

‘Is there anything ordinary about being a monk?’ Oswald turned the package over and closely examined the seal. His eyes narrowed and he murmured, ‘That’s odd.’

‘What is?’

‘It appears that the Fenmore seal has been used, though it has some cracks and scratches across it.’

‘The seal is bigger than that.’

‘This would have been in a ring. There was talk …’ He shook his head. ‘I overheard my parents talking … Parents are often unthinking in front of children and don’t understand how much can be absorbed.’

Suspecting he was getting nearer to the truth of his existence, Fletcher drew in a careful breath. ‘What talk? For God’s sake, Oswald, stop taking me around in circles.’

Oswald shrugged. ‘I’d heard that Sir James had a half-brother, one born of his father’s first wife. He was not very robust, though he grew up to inherit the title.’

‘What happened to him?’

‘Oswald shrugged. He died before you and I were born, I believe. I expect he was buried without fuss in the family cemetery and promptly forgotten. Now, let me open this missive. I must admit I’m intrigued. I can’t think what the Reverend Swift would want with me, since we’ve never had any dealings.’

‘You have a reputation of being honest … for most of the time, anyway.’

To that Oswald grinned. ‘I’m only as honest as any other honest man in the district. Perhaps it’s the reverend’s last will and testament, though he didn’t look as though he had much to leave. Let me open it and find out.’ He inserted his thumb under the wax seal, breaking it.

‘I think he might be my father, Adrian Taunt.’

Oswald’s eyes flew open, and then he laughed. ‘Who – the reverend? That’s preposterous. A couple of months ago you thought Silas might be your father.’

‘Only because he hinted that we were related and had left me his fortune.’

‘Did Silas say how you were related?’

‘He closed up like a clam when I pushed him about it. But I’m talking about the monk now.’ Fletcher twisted in his chair. ‘His face was badly scarred on one side where he’d been pushed into a fire, and he was thrown over a cliff. Both legs were fractured and one healed shorter than the other, so he also has a slightly crooked spine. He walks with a limp.’

Oswald winced. ‘I’m surprised he survived that sort of ordeal.’

‘I haven’t finished yet. His tale was that he was taken out to sea and hit on the head before being thrown overboard and left to drown. Some French fishermen hauled him up in their net – probably thinking he was contraband. He had no memory and they handed him over to an order of friars who nursed him back to health. His memory returned two years ago.’

‘You believe him?’

‘I believe he’s a Fenmore. It was Miranda who saw the resemblance.’

Oswald sighed and exposed the missive from the reverend. There were three pages of loosely spaced writing. ‘It starts off:
My name is Ambrose John Swift
.
I am dying. My wish has long been to clear my conscience before my Lord …
’ Oswald fell silent while he read the rest.

‘Well, what does he have to say for himself?’ Fletcher asked when Oswald finally looked at him.

‘It’s partly the confession of a troubled soul. I cannot divulge the contents of this document because not only is it a deathbed declaration, it’s also a sworn document. Therefore I must obey the law and hand it to the proper authorities. They will investigate the claims made in this. I will allow you this, Fletcher, but I think it will bring you no joy.’ He turned the paper round.

There was a currently dated signature beneath that of the reverend, and a legal-sounding statement
.

To whom it may concern. This is to affirm that I, Sir Adrian Taunton Fenmore, Baronet, Justice of Assizes, lately living in France, witnessed the death of the above servant of the church, and certify that the enclosed statement was sworn before me this day on his deathbed.

The breath left Fletcher’s lungs in harsh little jumps. Oswald was right; it did bring him no joy. ‘This has come as a shock, because I didn’t want to believe the monk. It has turned any thought of reconciliation with my uncle on its head. Sir James has always been my kin, and although I overlooked most of his cruelties, I looked up to him and admired him.’

‘My dear Fletcher, you have always had a forgiving nature, and a boy needs a father’s love. Sir James filled that role. If you had no consideration of the welfare of others, you would have never found a convenient excuse to come back here, but would have dismantled your business dealings, as I urged you to at the time.’

‘You were right, Oswald. I don’t know what will eventuate from this, but it sounds very much like a challenge and it smacks of revenge. And I’m standing in the middle of it. Certainly, it will cause maximum damage. And if the monk is the Adrian Taunt who fathered me – as he appears to be – then my mother must have … Damn it, Oswald, I can’t even say it. He was her half-brother. How can I have any respect for a man like that?’ He shook his head, still unable to believe such a thing. ‘He didn’t strike me as being a weakling, though he was certainly misshapen.’

‘Don’t jump to rash conclusions, Fletcher. Your family has more twists and turns to it than a dog’s tail. Talk to the monk when you next see him. Get his story, but don’t complicate matters further by taking sides. I’ve a feeling this is very much between your uncle and your … monk.’

‘So do I. My uncle has been unstable since I’ve been home. He pulled a pistol on me and nearly shot one of his guests. I’m afraid for Miranda and Lucy Jarvis. He has proposed marriage to Miranda … something she doesn’t want. I’ve arranged to get them out of there tonight. I’ll take them to my house.’

‘Is that the Miranda the
Lady Miranda
was named after?’

The thought that he’d fallen in love so quickly still made Fletcher smile, despite his worry. ‘We’d arranged to be wed this morning, but when we got to the church, there was nobody there to listen to our exchange of vows. We didn’t know it, but the reverend was already dead. The monk appeared from the back of the church and said he was poisoned.’

‘Are you sure
he
didn’t kill the reverend?’

‘I’m not sure of anything, but his words had the ring of truth.’

‘Be careful, Fletcher. Monksfoot will be the first place Sir James will look for those young women. Most of your servants will do what Tom Pepper tells them, and he’s in the pay of your uncle. You can’t trust any of them.’

‘There must be some who are honest.’

‘I imagine so, but they’re frightened of disobeying orders. The staff Silas gathered around him over the years mostly consists of scoundrels, and they took advantage of his illness. They’ll scatter over the countryside like rats if they feel really threatened.’

‘That will save me the trouble of getting rid of them. And my uncle’s workforce?’

Oswald shook his head. ‘You grew up there and would know better than I whom you can trust. Now, my friend, I’m going to give you a piece of advice,’ and he tapped the missive on his desk. ‘The dear departed has named names to ensure he has a place in heaven. Once I hand this over, all hell will be let loose. Your property might be seized, though your name wasn’t mentioned. It will certainly be searched, and goods confiscated. I will delay handing this over as long as I can.’

Fletcher wanted to ask him to tear the document up and forget it, but he knew Oswald would never step that far over the line. Besides, there would be no point if there was a copy.

‘You can take those young women to my home where they’ll be safe. You should have a day or two before the authorities gather their forces together, and I shall quite enjoy a little female company.’

‘Thank you, Oswald.’

‘If there’s any other way I can help, apart from placing my own life in danger, of course, do let me know. Oh, by the way, I have an account from the shipping agent handling the repairs of the
Lady Miranda
. It’s sizeable, but they say the work is proceeding quickly under the direction of Joshua Harris. He’s very thorough, I believe. They advise that the ship will be ready to move to Buckley’s Hard for the refit within the week.’

‘Thank you, Oswald. Tell them I’ll visit them when she gets to the hard … unless I’m in prison. Now I must get back. If my home is going to be raided there are a couple of items I’d like to hide.’

‘Do you intend to warn Sir James, Fletcher?’

‘I don’t know … He brought me up and was a father to me. In all conscience, I owe him
some
loyalty.’

‘Yes, I suppose you would feel that, and I don’t envy you the position you’re in. And what about the monk – doesn’t he deserve any? You haven’t heard his story yet.’

‘I don’t know … I must think about it, and I must find him and speak to him about my past. Where would a monk be likely to hide himself?’

Oswald grinned. ‘I can only say you have no imagination at all. Think about it, Fletcher. If you were a monk, where would you hide? It’s obvious.’

‘Monksfoot Abbey? You mean he’s hiding under my nose. I’ll be damned!’

‘Could be worth a try. You could hide an army in that place. Silas would have known about your birth. He may have offered help to the monk over the past year or so. He would have enjoyed thumbing his nose at your uncle.’

‘If the monk is there, I’ll find him, because I’ll tear the house apart stone by stone when I get back.’

When they stood to clasp hands, Oswald smiled. ‘I’ll whisper a few words in the right ears and stand to bail you out if need be. Don’t carry a pistol; it will give anyone with a grudge an excuse to kill you. Good luck, my friend.’

It seemed like an inordinately long time before Caesar announced Sir James was home by joining her. Giving him time to settle himself, she went downstairs and knocked at his study door.

‘Come in.’

He stood when she entered and waved her to a chair. ‘Ah, Miranda, my dear. I can’t imagine to what I owe this pleasure.’

‘I can’t find Lucy. She was gone when I woke this morning.’

‘I see.’ Walking round the desk, he seated himself on the edge and gazed down at her, his arms folded. ‘I shouldn’t worry too much. I’m sure she’s safe.’

‘Safe? Do you know where she is?’

‘Where do you think she might be?’

‘I thought she might have gone to look in the cellar and locked herself in. She was interested, because she’s heard tales of giant pythons and was curious to see them for herself.’

‘One shouldn’t listen to gossip. For instance, just yesterday I heard a rumour that you were about to marry my nephew. Yet here you are without a ring on your finger and lacking the bloom of a new wife who is basking in the light of her husband’s constant attention. In fact, you look quite pale and unloved at the moment.’ He gazed at her for a short time, as if expecting an answer, and then prompted, ‘I was about send for you, so you could explain yourself on this matter.’

The scales had dropped from Miranda’s eyes with a vengeance since she’d read the journal. Sir James was no longer a heroic figure, but a middle-aged murdering coward. Knowing she would be leaving his home to be with Fletcher in a few short hours couldn’t prevent the disdain she felt towards him showing in her eyes.

‘Then I spared you the trouble, Sir James. And, as you advise, you shouldn’t listen to gossip. Do you know where my sister is?’

He ignored her question and frowned. ‘You disappoint me, Miranda … you really do. I offered you the respectability of marriage, a home and a title, and you bite the hand that feeds you.’

She felt a little desperate. ‘I cannot marry you, Sir James. I don’t love you.’

‘Ah, love – a young man’s ideal. It rarely lasts. I would be happy with love in the physical sense.’ He reached out, taking her face between his finger and thumb. His eyes bored into hers, grey and cold. ‘I want you in my bed, Miranda. I want your young, warm flesh yielding to my demands on it. There are many ways to make love and I’ll teach you them all … the tender … the sweet … the painful … and the almost unbearable agony and corruptness of the dark side when the caress of the lash bites into your flesh.’

She began to struggle. ‘You disgust me.’

Releasing her chin, he slashed a hand across her face. She cried out when the chair tipped over sideways, and he swore when she scrambled to her feet, her face hot and stinging. Caesar growled. It was deep, threatening and prolonged, coming from the depths of his throat. Despite the shock of being hit, she gentled the animal. ‘Hush, Caesar.’

When Sir James went to place a hand over Caesar’s snout, the dog snapped at it and drew blood. Jerking his hand away with a foul curse, Sir James wrapped his handkerchief around the wound.

‘See what you’ve done to my dog, Miranda. You’ve spoiled him, made him feel important so he feels the need to challenge me – his master. I shall have to teach him a lesson … both of you, perhaps.’

He rang a little silver bell on his desk. When a manservant arrived, he said, ‘Take the dog to the stables and tie him up, and send Mrs Pridie to me.’