The Captain's Daughter (23 page)

Sam bowed his
head, and after a few moments looked up at Amy and Ben.

“I can tell you
truthfully that Captain Maitland was indeed with me in that cart.”

Ben noticed the
contradiction but decided to change the subject just a little.

“We need to
know what happened at Sir Hugh Anselan’s house. Did First Mate Maitland go
inside with Captain Buchanan?

“No sir,”
replied Sam. “First Mate Maitland remained outside with me. Captain Buchanan
thought they might want him but they never called him into the house.”

Amy, looking
very unhappy, said to Ben: “We are never going to find out what happened at
that meeting. It is so important, but we will never know.”

She had tears
in her eyes. Sam was following her intently and looked miserable. Ben and Amy
thanked him and started to leave, and then Ben turned back to Sam.

“I almost
forgot to ask. You knew Ishmael Anselan?

Sam stiffened
and a shadow of fear passed over his face.

“I knew
of
him.”

“But he
inherited the
Bristol Ark
?”

“He inherited
the company but he didn’t pay it no mind and he soon lost it.”

“Do you know if
he is still alive?”

“He well may
be, sir.”

“I gather that
you do not know where he is?”

“That be true
sir.”

“We need to
find him.”

“From what I
hear sir, maybe it be best that you don’t.”

“Oh?”

“He has a
reputation to be a bad one.”

“But why would
he be any danger to us, if he is a gentleman?”

“From what I
hear, he be no gentleman.”

“I think you
must be wrong,” said Ben as he turned to go.

Sam called to
them as they left, pleading: “For the sake of the lady, please do not try and
find Ishmael Anselan.”

As they headed
towards Bath, Amy asked Ben: “Well, what do you think about Sam Grieves?”

“I think we got
a lot of truth out of him, but I also think he held back and may have given us
some deceptive answers. As to what they were I want to think through our
exchange with him when I am alone.”

“He is
frightened isn’t he,” asked Amy?

“Yes, and what
is more interesting and much more important to me, is that he is frightened
that you are in danger, and that fear seems to point directly at Ishmael
Anselan. But Ishmael Anselan seems to have disappeared. I don’t know who he is.
We have many knights in England but at some point one usually hears their name,
but I’ve never heard of Sir Ishmael Anselan. I am going to ask around, but I
have the feeling I must do it casually, carefully, and circumspectly.”

“Be careful,
Ben. I hope Sam Grieves is wrong and his fear unfounded, but if not, please
take care.”

Ben was deep in
thought. “On a less threatening note,” continued Ben, “I am convinced that our
friend the boatswain knows at least something about the contents of that pouch,
but won’t tell us.”

“He was sworn
to secrecy,” says Amy.

“I know,” said
Ben, “but somehow we can find out. He never even hinted at the contents, but I
am sure it wasn’t handed to him by a stranger but is directly connected with
everything else.”

“Well we have
really come to a fine point,” said Amy with some sarcasm. “The Captain’s dead,
both captains are dead, and the Captain’s wife is dead, the baby is dead, and I
still don’t know who I am, but whoever I am, I am in danger, but I do not know
why. And I am in danger from a mysterious, evil knight, who might jump out from
anywhere. Things just keep getting worse and worse.”

Amy spoke with
a forced, aggressive humor, and then burst into tears.

Emma, who had
spoken few words since they left Bath that morning, looked at her in distress
not knowing how to help, and Mrs. Parkhurst was uncharacteristically silent and
stony faced.

Ben rested his
arm around Amy. No one seemed to notice or object. He had a look of firm
determination on his face as he stared straight ahead. Someone he felt a
closeness to was under threat.

“We will find
out who you are.” Ben spoke softly and introspectively. “We will find out who
is a threat to you. We will find out where Ishmael Anselan is. And he will not
dare threaten you or put you in danger.”

As day turned
into evening, the coach with its stony faced occupants bounced and swayed its
way into Bath.

“
Hush Bucephalus
,” Emma
whispered into the ear of her horse.

Bucephalus was
not happy about being tethered to the trap on a warm August morning. As a horse
named after the noble battle horse that belonged to Alexander the Great he felt
he was made for better stuff.

 “I know
you don't like pulling the trap alone while Pansy is relaxing in the meadow,
but you have an important job. You will be engaging in a charitable work.”

These words
that Emma whispered in his ear seemed to placate him. Perhaps it was the
thought that he of the noble name was doing a noble work, while Amy’s horse
Pansy was practically guilty of a dereliction of duty, that did it.

Then again
maybe not, for who knows how or what horses think. Or maybe it was the sight of
Amy with Effie’s help lugging a large basketwork hamper towards the trap. As
Amy, with the help of Emma and Effie, and old Hubert, were securing it in the
trap’s boot, Ben rode up. He dismounted and hurried to assist them but he was
too late.

“I see you
ladies are having another picnic.”

“Not at all,
Sir Benjamin,” said Amy. “Do you think all we do is gad about and have fun?”

“Well, I'm sure
that's not all you do, but I’d say that's what you mostly do.”

“To show you
how wrong you are, Sir Benjamin, just let me inform you that we are doing
charitable works like all good Christians should.”

Ben looked
surprised.

“If you will
stand aside, Sir Benjamin, we must be on our way to deliver the hamper of food
to a needy widow. Excuse me please.”

She attempted
to climb into the trap and join her sister who had climbed in while Amy was
reprimanding Ben. He quickly came to her aid. She curtly nodded her thanks as
she sat down and took up the reins.

“Would you like
me to join you two ladies and drive the trap?”

“If we needed
someone to drive the trap, Hubert could do that. As it is we can handle it
quite well alone. Unless you intend to force your way onto the trap.”

He was about to
deny he would do such a thing but paused. Emma was violently nodding her head
up and down.

“Is there
something wrong, Miss Emma?”

“Yes!” said
Emma emphatically. “Men are blind.”

“I'm not sure I
understand.” Ben looked puzzled.

“Don't you
see,” said an exasperated Emma, “she wants you to ‘force’ your way onto the
trap and take the reins.”

“I do nothing
of the sort!”

Amy put on the
strongest display of insulted pride she could muster.

“Yes you do,”
said Emma with a giant grin. “Get on board, Ben.”

“I'm not sure I
know what to do,” responded Ben. “You young ladies are sending mixed and
confusing signals.”

“Oh, get on
board,” snapped Amy.

He tossed the
reins of his horse to old Hubert and joined the two young ladies.

“I do not think
my mother would approve,” said Amy belatedly, as the trap rolled down the
drive.

As it turned
onto the road towards Stokely-on-Arne, Ben urged poor Bucephalus forward.

“I don't wish
to seem like I'm prying, but would you tell me where we are headed.”

“We are
delivering a hamper of food and some other things to Mae Bickford and her
children. Widow Bickford lost her husband last year. She has seven children and
is unable to work.”

“I thought the
village was required to care for those who cannot work,” said Ben.

“It does, but
only the barest of necessities. Mother likes to take a hamper to those in need.
We are short ourselves since father had his accident and hasn't been able to
care for things. We used to do more but mother tries to send two or three
hampers a month to those in need.”

“That is most
commendable,” mused Ben. “I must find out who needs help. Perhaps I could do
something to help out. If you could make me a list and show me what to do, I
would very much appreciate your help.”

When they
reached the Bickford cottage, which was obviously in need of some whitewash and
thatching, they received an enthusiastic greeting from a mob of small children,
and a slightly more sober and shy greeting from two older siblings.

As soon as the
hamper was unloaded the two older children grabbed the handles and with the
smaller ones struggling unsuccessfully to help, carried it towards the front
door of the cottage.

“I can see
right now I’m completely unnecessary,” smiled Ben.

The hamper
handlers started to maneuver it through the front door of the cottage as Ben,
Amy, and Emma approached. As soon as it was inside, the children set it down by
their mother, who sat reclined with her feet on a stool next to a small table,
the only one in the cottage. It rested under the lone window. The children
eagerly opened it and began to quickly empty it of its contents, which were
delicacies to them despite being common fair at the Sibbridge house.

“Children,
children,” scolded Mae Bickford, and through a fit of coughing told them to
mind their manners. “Proper children would thank Lady Amy and Lady Emma for
their kindness and compassion, and...”

She had just
noticed Ben who entered the cottage last.

“Oh sorry,”
said Amy. “This is Sir Benjamin Anstruther. He is a kind friend of ours.”

“Honored to
meet you, M’Lord.”

Mae struggled
to get up, but Amy placed her hand on the ailing woman’s shoulder.

“I'm afraid I'm
not a lord, just a plain old baronet. And that's only because I inherited it.
Frankly, titles and the like have little meaning to me.”

Emma
interrupted asking: “Where’s Meg?”

Mae Bickford
struggled to turn and look into the dark rear corner of the cottage.

“Poor Meg is
ill. Been runnin’ a fever since last night. She's asleep right now.”

Emma looked
worried and went over to where Meg lay. Amy could hear her talking softly to
Meg, although she couldn't make out what she was saying or whether Meg was
replying, but obviously the poor feverish girl wasn't entirely asleep.
Meanwhile, Ben was helping the excited, giggling children empty the hamper of
the last few remaining items.

Afterwards, the
children were soon out of the dark cottage playing and squealing in front of
the cottage with their newfound treasure of sweetmeats. Ben smiling, stood in
the cottage door and watched the children, shaking his head at their delight
over such common fare. Ben was no stranger to mixing with the lower rungs of
society but it was usually ones of the rougher sort. Simple, honest, poor folk
were a refreshing yet, in a way, troubling change.

Amy, now joined
by a more solemn Ben, spent about half-an-hour in a serious conversation with
the widow Bickford.

On the way home
Ben had a number of comments about the village and especially about the
Bickfords.

“Something has
to be done to help the honest poor of our land. I know the village helps, which
the law requires, but I rather suspect that there are other places that don't
take their responsibilities as seriously as Stokely-on-Arne. Especially, is it
bad in the cities.”

“I hope poor
Meg is well soon,” said Emma.

Amy, who had
been wearing a worried expression, turned to Ben.

“Maybe you can
do something about it someday.” Before he could respond she added: “There is
something that Mattie told me about our visit to Bath you need to know.”

Ben looked at
her, surprised.

“Mattie?”

“Yes. While we
were away in Bristol, Mattie and Cassandra decided to visit the gardens near
the Quillin house. At the gardens, they encountered Lord Eskman. He escorted
them around the gardens, purchased food and other things for them, and
generally paid close attention to them.”

“Seems like
what any gentleman would do. It is a matter of courtesy, since he knows your
family.”

“He knows my
family, but only slightly, but that is not what concerns me. According to my
sister—Mattie—Cassandra does not like Lord Eskman, in fact, according to Mattie,
Cassandra said he causes cold shivers down her spine.”

“Maybe
Cassandra possesses that mysterious ability women have been given to judge
character. Although in truth, I know nothing unfavorable about Lord Eskman.
Actually, I know precious little about the gentleman.”

“Mattie was a
little annoyed at Cassandra, because she finds Eskman a very charming
gentleman. In fact, she was very flattered by his attentions. She was quite
excited by them. What concerns me is that he seems, if I am reading Mattie
aright, to have had much greater interest in my sister that he did her friend.
I can think of two reasons for that and both of them are quite discomforting.”

“Oh? And what
are Lord Eskman’s sinister motives?”

“I am most
worried that he has designs on my sister. He is so much older and she is so
young.”

“I think you
are likely mistaken. He was just being a gentleman. Anyway, I believe Eskman is
married.”

“You do? Then
where is his wife? Why haven’t we seen her? He did dine with us in Bath and she
was not there.

“I don't know.
Maybe she was visiting relatives. Maybe she's an invalid. There could be many
reasons, after all, how often have you seen Eskman? Two or three times at
most?”

“I hope you are
right Ben, because Mattie is very persuadable, and she is so sweet and kind.
She doesn't seem to realize that there are bad people in this world.”

They were not
far from the Sibbridge drive and the trap was moving slower and slower.

“I think you're
worrying unnecessarily. You've told me that your sister's affections change to
a new target with some regularity. Before he realizes it, if he does indeed
have intentions toward your sister, she'll be off to another and Eskman will be
left lonely and weeping with a broken heart.”

“Somehow, and I
may well be misjudging him, from what I've seen of Eskman I cannot picture him
weeping, and I am not too sure if he has a heart to break.”

“The lady is so
judgmental.”

“There is
something else. Perchance I might be seeing what isn’t there, but while we were
gone, and he was having his tête-a-tête with Cassandra and Mattie, and while if
I understand aright, Cassandra was briefly not present, he asked Mattie about
our return to Bath just three weeks after our previous visit, and he seemed
curious about our absence that day. She told him we were on a special trip to
Bristol to try and locate someone. He started to question her further about the
purpose of our visit to Bristol and who we were searching for, but was
interrupted by Cassandra's return.”

“A little
strange, I’ll grant you, but maybe he's just a curious person.”

They realized
that Bucephalus had started to dine on the grass by the roadside. He hadn’t
entirely come to a stop, perhaps trying to fool them into thinking he was still
moving, but he was not making any meaningful progress.

“C’mon
Bucephalus m’lad” Ben said urging him onward.

As Ben bent
forward to tap Bucephalus with the riding crop, a shot rang out with an ear
cracking bang. Amy felt as if someone had struck her in the left shoulder with
a hard object. Ben was looking for the source of the shot, but seeing no one,
he urged Bucephalus forward at full speed.

“We better
leave as fast as possible before he reloads,” said Ben with urgency. “I guess
one of the people I have a disagreement with has tracked me here. I must get
you ladies home fast, and then I will find out whoever it was. I don't take
assassination attempts lightly.”

Emma gasped and
gave a little squeal.

“Oh, look Amy.
Look at your front.”

“Amy looked
down. Blood was starting to stain the top fringes of her dress.

“Ben, I’m hit.”

For the first
time Amy and Emma heard him curse.

“If only I
hadn't bent over to urge Bucephalus forward. You took the bullet that was
intended for me. I will never forgive myself.”

They had
already reached the Sibbridge drive and Bucephalus galloped full speed toward
the house. For the first time Ben was able to glance at Amy. The blood stain on
her dress had grown enormously. Amy slumped over onto Emma's lap, as they
reached the front door.

Emma started
screaming as Ben jumped from the trap and lifted an unconscious Amy in his
arms, grateful to see she was still breathing.

The noise had
drawn half the household.

Ben yelled at
the gardener: “Can you drive a trap?”

When Kenneth
nodded, he yelled at him to hurry and get the doctor.

Ben carried Amy
inside the house and laid her on the couch in the drawing room. She was
breathing heavily. As Amy's mother, Mattie, and Effie crowded around Amy to
help her, Ben stepped back out of respect for her modesty as they uncovered the
wound.

Standing
several feet away, grimly leaning against the door post of the drawing room,
Ben felt a soft hand on his arm. He looked at the ashen gray face of Emma. She
was trembling.

“Why would
anyone try to kill you Ben?”

Before he could
stop himself he blurted out: “I hope it was me they were trying to kill.”