Moon Cutters (32 page)

‘There will be bloodshed.’

‘Blood is shed every day along this coast. It always has been. Too many good men are killed just going about their lawful business. Men like my brother think they’re above the law, and the more they get away with it, the worse it becomes. I understand that smugglers will never be stamped out entirely. The customs service and revenue men do their best to keep it under control when it gets too organized.’ He placed a hand on his son’s arm. ‘I know your conscience troubles you, Fletcher. When it does, just think of Miranda and Lucy – two innocents who accidentally wandered into the spider’s web. It doesn’t take much imagination to know what my brother had planned for them.’

‘I’ve got them to safety. My uncle has not noticed they’re missing yet and intends to entertain his less savoury friends with their presence. I hope to be there when he realizes they’re missing. What are your plans, sir?’

‘I will find the opportunity to bring things to a head before midnight. That’s when people expect the ghosts of the dead to walk abroad with their heads tucked under their arms. If we time it right, it will be a double blow.’

‘May I ask you something … can you actually detach that head?’

Adrian chuckled. ‘I admit that sometimes it feels as if it belongs to somebody else. I used to have a silk mask to wear, so I didn’t frighten the ladies. It invited more curiosity, since people wanted to know what was under it.’

Fletcher said, ‘What will you do if your brother doesn’t hand over the title and estate? He won’t, you know. Not without putting up a struggle.’

‘If I can shame him in front of his friends and get him to admit to what he’s done, then that will give me satisfaction. After that, I’ll do things the long way, and have a legal representative prepare a petition to set before the House of Lords.’

‘He might shoot you, and will probably shoot me. His guns are pin-fired and he’s a good shot.’

‘And you don’t want to visit your maker before you’ve enjoyed your wedding night, aye?’

Fletcher chuckled, for he’d already tasted a little of what was to come. ‘There’s that.’

Adrian smiled. ‘Not all of my brother’s staff are loyal to him, or even dishonest; they are just too scared to defy him. I’ve arranged for the cartridges to be removed, and if all goes to plan, we’ll have time to get out of there and run as if the devil’s after us.’ He picked up his robe. Mrs Targett had taken charge of it, and it was now clean. He draped it over the dog.

‘Are you wearing that over your evening suit? It will be covered in dog hairs.’

‘Only on the inside; if it has Caesar’s scent on it, the other dogs will be intrigued, and it might stop them attacking me if ordered.’

‘Not so my uncle.’

‘People usually think twice before shooting a monk, and you did tell James that my name was Hadrian Fryer. The cowl and mask will stop him recognizing me at first. Remember, he’s not seen the result of his handiwork; I want to catch him off guard.’

It was with some trepidation that Fletcher entered his uncle’s house at the stroke of eleven. There was an air of expectation about the men present, and some of them were inebriated. His uncle’s dark eyes had something in their depths, a sort of feverishness.

‘I thought you were never coming. Where’s this mysterious guest of yours?’

‘He had some business to attend to and will be along in a little while.’

‘Rather an odd time to do business … unless it’s a little monkey business, of course. I have no intention of waiting any longer.’ He held up his arms. ‘Let’s get on with the entertainment, shall we, gentlemen? Just remember, the young women are of exceptional quality, so be prepared to make a good bid on them.’

A cheer went up and they followed their host out into the hall, all of them knowing the prey was the two Jarvis girls. Disgust filled Fletcher.

His uncle whistled and his two remaining dogs appeared. A shawl was waved under their noses, and the dogs wagged their tails when he opened the cellar door. His uncle turned and smiled at him. ‘Fetch her,’ he said, and the dogs put their noses to the ground and went down into the darkness. ‘In the meantime, the rest of you can go and hunt out the second wench. I have her tucked away in the church crypt, the one by the well.’

They went off, baying as loudly as a pack of dogs, leaving behind a man who was the worse for wear from drink, collapsed in the corner of the couch. He was one of Simon Bailey’s men.

Sir James flung himself on to a couch and gazed up at his nephew. ‘Are you not joining them in the hunt, Fletcher? I thought you would like the prize.’

For the first time in his life, he felt like killing someone with his bare hands. ‘I think not, uncle. I’ve only just got here and I haven’t had a drink yet. I’d better wait for my guest. I’ll put a bid on when the time comes.’

‘I must say, you don’t seem at all perturbed. I thought you might have some idea of playing the hero and rescuing the prey. I was looking forward to it.’

His uncle wouldn’t be disappointed in that, if everything went to plan. ‘I don’t see any point in being upset. I thought you intended to wed her.’

‘I toyed with the idea. I even thought I might be in love with her a little, but she wasn’t biddable, and she disappointed me once too often.’

‘What will you do with them afterwards?’ he said, as the man began to move away.

Cocking his head to one side, his uncle could barely keep the disdain from his eyes. ‘I imagine I’ll think of something. There are many places where enterprising young women can be placed to earning a living, and they owe me a debt that needs paying off.’

It wasn’t too long before the dogs came back. ‘I ordered you to fetch her, you dumb fools. Where is she?’

The men came back, jostling each other and grumbling. ‘What sort of idiots do you think we are, Fenmore? The tomb is empty, and so are the others, apart from a few bones.’

There was a high-pitched giggle. ‘Ingram thought he saw the phantom monk down there and it disappeared.’

A nerve twitching in his jaw, Fletcher’s uncle turned to stare at him. ‘Where are the sisters? What have you done with them? You can’t just take them, since they’re my wards.’

‘That’s not true. Miranda is my wife. We were married this morning by the bishop. Her sister prefers to live under her care. What sort of man would treat two young ladies under his protection in such a scurrilous manner?’ Fletcher saw a faint movement beyond the door in the darkness of the cellar and felt a yawning relief. Having been ruled by his uncle for most of his life, he felt inadequate to properly deal with him.

‘How did you get them out?’

‘During the reverend’s funeral they were concealed in your own carriage, hidden there by Mrs Swift and accompanied by the bishop’s conveyance. Did you really think I was going to allow you to debauch two innocent young women? You should be ashamed of yourself … You all should be ashamed of yourselves.’

Some of the men shuffled their feet, and another gave a shamefaced laugh. ‘Hoist by your own petard, aye, James. Well done, young man – a fine evening’s entertainment. I think I might head for home.’

‘Allow me to introduce my guest first. Adrian Taunton Fenmore. My father.’

Someone choked on his wine, the significance of the name obviously not lost on him. Andrew Patterson – his uncle’s lawyer!

His father stepped out of the darkness, the cowl concealing his face.

Most of the men pulled back and there was some nervous laughter. A couple headed for the door, to be prevented from leaving, for the drunk in the corner of the couch had miraculously sobered up and stood, his hand on the pistol under his tunic. Simon Bailey had sent an armed man to look after him!

‘What foolery is this? Adrian Fenmore is dead,’ James shouted, and gave the bell-pull a vigorous jerk to summon a manservant. ‘I’ll have him thrown out.’

‘Your threw me over the cliff over twenty years ago … That was after you’d rubbed my face in the hot ashes of a fire.’

‘What sort of trick is this, Fletcher? Let the imposter show me the scar.’

When the cowl was thrown aside, everyone fell silent.

‘
Adrian
!’ James whispered. ‘It cannot be. We took your broken body out to sea and drowned you.’

‘We?’

‘Silas Asher owed me a favour, and although he took your death hard, I gave him no choice. Why didn’t you come back sooner?’

‘Because I had no memory. Like a baby, I couldn’t feed or look after myself. I was taken in by a religious order and gradually gained bodily strength. Two years ago I regained most of my faculties and remembered that my wife had been with child. All that time I had a son I’d never met. When Silas learned I was still alive, he allowed me a roof over my head whenever I needed one. Between us, we devised a plan that would allow me to regain my title and estate.’

Fletcher cut in. ‘Sir James kept my mother a prisoner until I was born. They passed me off as the child of Elizabeth Fenmore.’

‘Who was your mother?’ someone called out.

‘A lady called Rose Jones. She was Silas Asher’s cousin, and maid to Elizabeth Fenmore.’

‘Lies … all lies. You can’t prove anything. This man is an imposter,’ James shouted, and he lunged for the gun he kept in the drawer in the table. When it didn’t fire, he threw it against the wall and headed for another from his study. That one didn’t fire, either.

‘The pins have been removed,’ Adrian told him.

‘I’ll see you in hell before I give you as much as the time of day, Adrian. As for the rest of you, I know too much about you for your own good. If one word of this gets out, I’ll visit you when you sleep and cut your throat, and the throats of your wives. I’ll also feed your children to my dogs.’ He rang the bell again. ‘Where are the damned servants?’

Nobody had an answer for him. An awkward silence descended, and the men shifted from one foot to another. ‘You’re insane, James,’ Adrian said. ‘You’ve always been insane.’

‘Get out … all of you, get out. You’re a pack of leeches trying to suck the blood out of me.’

His gaze fell on the dogs, which were sniffing around Adrian’s robe, and he kicked out at them. ‘If you stay long enough, you can witness what my dogs can do.’

But Adrian had made sure the dogs would obey him. ‘Heel,’ he said, and when the dogs sat and gazed up at him, their tails thumping on the floor, he opened his palm and allowed them to nose for a small meaty reward he had hidden there. ‘Good dogs.’

A few of the men had left; the rest were lingering out of curiosity.

Adrian warned his brother, ‘I’ll be back, James, and with the force of the law behind me.’

‘Do your worst, Adrian. Marguerite House will never be yours. As for Rosie Jones, she might have gone willingly to your bed, but she was just as exciting when she was forced. You know … I do believe she enjoyed being forced. Once a whore, always a—’

Adrian’s fist shot out and Sir James sprawled on his back, blood spurting from his nose.

A cheer rang out and a passage was cleared for Fletcher and his father to make their escape.

Adrian clicked his fingers and the dogs followed after them, looking back at their master only once.

‘I’ll shoot you when you come back, you mangy curs,’ he muttered.

Outside it was the darkest of nights – a night that allowed no shadow to escape. In the small cemetery overlooking the sea, a blue flame burned steadily.

Roadblocks had been set up. Anyone found abroad was detained and questioned by soldiers. Men were searched, goods confiscated and the carriers were handed over to revenue men, then carted off in wagons to the barracks compound, where they would be placed under armed guard.

Out beyond the bay, the French fishing boats unloaded their cargoes, tying the rafts containing the brandy kegs in a long string to float them ashore. A number of small boats came from along the coast, and rafts containing brandy and taxable goods began to be towed towards the shore, where a small number of men began to take the various goods to their destinations. It piled up on the beach.

Fires of driftwood were lit along the cliff top.

The Royal Navy cutters watched the contraband boats come and go, and in the streaky yellow light of dawn they formed a barrier behind the boats, to trap them within Lady Marguerite’s Cove. Along the cliff tops, soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder with customs and revenue men. Those who tried to escape were rammed and sunk. Shots were exchanged with the French.

It was a bloody fight – one the authorities would win.

Come dawn, armed soldiers followed Simon Bailey into Lady Marguerite’s House, now deserted by the servants. They conducted a search for Sir James, the soldiers descending into the wine cellars and twitching at every noise, having heard the rumours of venomous wild life.

They found neither man nor beast and went no further.

Going back into the hall, and wondering where else to look, they gathered in the hall, unfamiliar with the layout of the house. As Simon gazed up the dark staircase to the landing, there was a draught, and a flirt of a woman’s skirt. She came down the staircase and headed towards the solid study door.

He could see the staircase through her and chills ran down his spine.

Sir James was seated behind his desk, enjoying a brandy. He looked up and smiled. ‘Ah … Rosie Jones, I can’t see you but I can sense you, and I know you’re there. Have you come for me? I wouldn’t have hurt Fletcher, you know. He looks like me, and I always thought he might have been my son.’

Taking a gun from his desk, he held it to his temple, and then swore when he remembered it had no firing pin. He turned to get one from the drawer.

When the soldiers began to batter down the study door, he stood and pushed a coal from the grate. It landed on a trail of black powder that crackled across the room and disappeared behind the panelling. Smoke rose.

The door gave, and he pointed the gun at his brother and smiled. ‘I never could get the better of you, Adrian. I must warn you, though. I have several barrels of gunpowder scattered under the foundations, and the fuses are alight. In a few minutes, the house will be blown off the foundations and will bury us both.’