BLACKDOWN (a thriller and murder mystery) (18 page)

‘So are you to leave?’ Bole asked.

Blackdown ran a hand over his stubbled jaw. Julianne’s breath-like words floated in his mind still.
Find out who killed Jonathan for me.

In doing so had she finally admitted she did not believe it to be the Beast of Blackdown?

‘I shan’t be leaving just yet,’ Blackdown declared. ‘I have things to do and people to see.’

‘People to see?’

‘Tresham’s gamekeeper and Sir Peter Lansdowne to start with,’ he said.

‘You mean to approach them about Jonathan’s murder?’

‘And why not?’

‘Sir Peter is a very private man…’ Bole began.

‘Meaning?’

‘Tread carefully when questioning him on such a delicate matter as murder, Thomas. He is easily angered or upset, and he is not a man to be trifled with lightly.’

‘Then that makes two of us,’ he returned shortly.

Lord Tresham apologised and took his leave of them after breakfast, saying he had urgent business just come up that needed his immediate attention. He cast Thomas Blackdown a meaningful glance from the window of a handsome post-chaise pulled by four horses and driven by two liveried postilions.

‘I shall return as soon as I can,’ Lord Tresham called to Blackdown, Julianne and Reverend Bole. ‘Pray your father’s strength holds up until then,’ he said, waving. ‘And look after Julianne for me!’

‘I will be perfectly fine, father!’ she said, waving him off.

Blackdown watched the coach pull away and rattle down the drive, heading for the gates. He signalled for his horse to be saddled and brought to the front of the house.

‘I hope you will not be too rash when confronting Sir Peter,’ Bole warned when Julianne had returned to the house.

‘Rash?’ he replied. ‘I am never rash.’

‘Or too free with your words… Choose them carefully.’

‘You speak as if you fear him,’ he said as the horse was brought round and he took the reins. The horse was fast becoming used to him, he noticed.

Bole didn’t have time to answer, for they heard the clatter of many hooves rattling up the drive towards them. They saw the red uniforms and brass buttons of the six riders looking quite resplendent in the morning light.

‘The local militia,’ said Bole. ‘Perhaps they have heard about the attack on the house last night and come to investigate.’

Lansdowne’s Horse Patrol aside, the local militia was the only means of keeping law and order in the area, though Thomas Blackdown was not immediately impressed by them. Their number was made up of volunteers from the wealthier inhabitants of the Blackdown Hills, smaller landowners and their sons chiefly, the odd-retired cavalryman or officer. Their horses were of varying quality and sizes, their armaments the same, indicative of what they could afford, and their ages varied considerably. Their uniforms more or less followed the same pattern – red with yellow facings, white breeches and black boots – but one or two riders couldn’t help but embellish them with ribbons, piping and medals. Their numbers were too few, however, to be of any real benefit as far as keeping general law and order over the vast tracks of countryside, and their services were largely at the beck and call of the monied inhabitants of Blackdown and environs, protecting their land and property. The common man could expect no such favours. They were too quick with their arms and their loyalties were far too one-sided. Thomas Blackdown had little time for such part-time soldiers.

A smart, middle-aged officer dismounted and saluted Blackdown and Bole.

‘Colonel Gardiner,’ said Bole warmly. ‘What brings you to Blackdown Manor?’

Gardiner’s face was serious as he took out a piece of paper from his coat. ‘I have a warrant signed by the magistrates for the arrest of Thomas Blackdown.’ He glanced meaningfully at the man in question.

‘What?’ said Blackdown. He had been poised to mount his horse.

‘You are mistaken,’ said Bole. ‘Arrest Thomas? Whatever for?’

‘In connection with the murder of Harvey Grey, late of Commodore Pettigrew’s company.’

‘That’s absurd!’ said Thomas. ‘I had nothing to do with that!’

‘There has to be a mistake,’ said Bole.

With a peremptory flick, Colonel Gardiner showed them the paper. ‘No mistake. You are Captain Thomas Blackdown?’ he asked.

Blackdown nodded. ‘Who is behind the warrant?’ he demanded.

Gardiner shook his head. ‘Of that I have no idea. My duty is to take you into custody and escort you to the gaol in Blackdown, where you will be held until further notice.’ He held out his hand. ‘Your firearms, please, Captain Blackdown.’

Blackdown eyed the five mounted riders. One or two of them had their hands poised over their carbines and pistols. A sword or two had been drawn in case of trouble. The horses fidgeted, as if aware of the growing tension. But Blackdown calmly handed the two loaded pistols over. Gardiner discharged them both into the air, the horses flinching at the sudden noise. He handed the guns over to Bole.

‘The reverend will keep them safe for you,’ said the officer. ‘And now your sword…’

Blackdown drew in a breath. ‘I wear no sword. What reason do I have to kill Harvey Grey?’

‘That is not for me to determine. But murder is a very serious charge, sir. If you’d care to mount we can be on our way,’ Gardiner said insistently.

As Blackdown took to his saddle, Bole came up and patted his boot. ‘Worry not, Thomas; there has been some mistake here and I will do all I can to put it right. I will notify Lord Tresham at once and he’ll soon have you out of this scrape.’

Silently, Blackdown turned his horse’s head, and with three men at his back and another three at his front the small troop of militia led him away.

The town gaol was a small affair, located at the back of the magistrates’ court in Blackdown. It consisted of four stone-walled cells that were reputedly three hundred years old, and used frequently to house drunks, breakers-of-the-peace, and the occasional horse or cattle thief. A large oak door slammed shut with the sound of dull finality on Thomas Blackdown. His many questions going unanswered.

‘I want to speak to someone in charge!’ he insisted at the barred window of the door as Colonel Gardiner walked away. But the officer did not reply. Blackdown thumped the ancient door. ‘Damn you, Gardiner! Did you hear me?’

‘Keep your voice down, Captain,’ said Gardiner coolly, and ascended the worn stone steps to street level.

‘Keep it down,’ echoed the guard posted at the door, who waited till Gardiner had disappeared before taking his musket off his shoulders and leaning it against the wall.

Blackdown gave an irritated snort and sat on the filthy straw-filled mattress that rested on a metal frame. He looked up to the small slit-like window high in the wall. He heard the clatter of footsteps outside. If he could reach up and peer through the window he knew he would be looking out onto, and level with, the cobbles of a back alley, but there was no way he could reach that high.

He surmised he’d waited about an hour or so, but it may have been much shorter, when he heard voices from beyond the door. Then a key in the lock. Blackdown rose from the mattress at the sound, and the door swung open. A large, round man entered the cell, holding a candle in a holder. The door closed behind him and the key turned again.

‘John Strutt!’ said Blackdown, taken aback. He hadn’t expected to see the newest member of The Lupercal Club.

‘The very same,’ said the man, holding his candle aloft. His slit-like eyes surveyed the cramped room. ‘You will have to forgive me putting you somewhere like this,’ he said, ‘but it is all that is available at such short notice.’

‘So it was your doing?’ said Blackdown. ‘You had the warrant signed?’

‘What are you up to, Mr Blackdown?’

‘Let me out of here, Strutt!’

‘Where did you get the black card, Mr Blackdown?’

‘Sir Peter will not be pleased!’ Blackdown tried to bluff.

But Strutt merely smiled. ‘Come, come – we both know that is but your little game. You are not a member of the Lupercal Club, nor are you close friends with Sir Peter Lansdowne. Where did you come across your black card? How came you to know about the club?’

‘You’ll pay for this, Strutt!’ he said, taking a step forward.

Strutt pulled a small pistol from his pocket. ‘Don’t do anything foolish. Sit down.’ He waved the pistol. ‘I insist.’

Reluctantly, Blackdown sat on the mattress. ‘Do you mean to kill me?’ he asked.

‘Kill you? If I’d wanted that you would have been dead a few hours ago. No, I do not wish you dead, but I wish you kept out of my hair for a certain period of time. You threaten everything with your guns blazing and the dead bodies starting to pile up. No, Mr Blackdown, here is the safest place for you. Until I decide what to do with you.’ He wandered over to the wall and leant against it. ‘I see your brother in you.’

‘What do you know about him?’

Strutt sighed. ‘He came to my attention a number of years ago. He was under observation.’

‘Why?’

‘With regret I have to tell you that I am not here to talk about him. I am going to mention a name, Mr Blackdown, and I want you to give me the simple answer of yes or no. Do you recognise the name Ravenbard?’

‘Should I recognise the name?’

‘Yes or no, Mr Blackdown?’

‘No.’

Strutt studied Blackdown carefully, as if trying to peel away his mind to reach into his thoughts. He pursed his lips. ‘Dig deep. Think carefully on it. Ravenbard. Does it not mean anything to you?’

‘It means nothing to me.’

Strutt smiled thinly. ‘I have done some checking on you, and for all your past transgressions there is no evidence that you are in league with Ravenbard. Though that is by its very nature difficult to prove. However, the crude manner in which you draw attention to yourself seals my opinion. I believe you when you say you do not know Ravenbard. After a fashion.’

‘Am I supposed to feel grateful?’

‘That’s a matter of opinion. Some would say not to know is a blessing.’

‘Who or what is Ravenbard?’

‘I cannot disclose that, Mr Blackdown.’

‘All right, tell me this - what happens at the Meet, Strutt?’

‘Do you seriously think I am going to tell someone like you something like that?’ He laughed, his fat chins shivering. ‘You see, you know nothing about what is going on. You come across your card by accident and you claw about in the dark trying to fathom what is going on. That is a dangerous thing to do. That is why you are here, put out of harm’s way so you can do no more damage to others and to yourself.’

Strutt went to the door, hammered on it. The guard looked through the window and unlocked the door.

‘How long will I have to stay in here on those trumped up charges?’ demanded Blackdown angrily.

‘As long as I need you to be,’ said Strutt leaving the cell.

‘What gives you the right?’

He blinked as if asked a stupid question. ‘I have the right, Mr Blackdown, you can depend upon that.’ He turned to the guard. ‘See that he is given food and water. But do not trust him. He is a sly devil. If he makes an attempt at escape, kill him. Do not hesitate.’

‘Who are you?’ Blackdown called as Strutt moved to walk away.

‘I am who I said I am.’

Blackdown went to the door’s window. ‘I don’t believe that.’

‘What you believe is of no consequence to me, Mr Blackdown,’ and he waddled down the short passage and grunted his way up the steep steps.

Blackdown thought there was nothing for it but to wait. He was handed a small mug of water, a chunk of cheese and a few husks of dried bread and he settled down to consider his situation, trying to work out how Strutt fitted into things. So far there were too many threads yet hanging loose, but in his mind some things were starting to come together.

Eventually he lay on the bed and hoped the lice in the mattress would treat him with a little lenience. Presently there was the sound of voices outside his cell. Blackdown slipped off the bed. He thought he recognised the new visitor. Peering out of the door’s small barred window he saw Addison handing over a heavy purse to the guard, who immediately set about retrieving the key to the door. He pushed it open.

‘No more than a few minutes,’ he said gruffly, eyeing the stairs as if someone might come down at that moment and discover his actions.

‘Mr Addison, what are you doing?’ Blackdown asked. ‘Don’t tell me you paid good money to that scoundrel…’

‘It does not matter, sir. I had to see you,’ said Addison, waiting till the door was closed behind him. He bade Blackdown to the far end of his cell, to stand beneath the small window. ‘I am so sorry to see you in this position, sir. We never planned it thus.’

‘We?’

Addison steepled his fingers and put the tips of them to his mouth. He glanced at the door. ‘Have they hurt you, Master Thomas?’

‘I’m in good health, Addison.’

‘She will be pleased,’ he breathed.

Blackdown grabbed the man’s coat sleeve. ‘Tell me what’s going on, Addison. Who will be pleased? What’s this about not planning it so?’

‘Miss Tresham, sir…’

‘Julianne?’

Addison nodded. ‘I must be fast, sir, because I sense time is running out and we have put you in a dangerous situation by bringing you home, but we did not know who to turn to.’ He lowered his eyes. ‘Master Thomas, I need to make a confession and I hope that you will not think too ill of me when I convey the reasons behind it.’

‘Go ahead, Mr Addison. You know I can never think ill of you.’

He smiled weakly. ‘The letter you received from Master Jonathan…’

‘What of it?’

‘It did not come from his hand.’

Confused, Blackdown narrowed his eyes. ‘Of course it did.’

Addison shook his head slowly. ‘Alas no, sir. It was penned and sent after his death.’

‘A forgery? By whom? Who would do such a thing?’

‘Me, Master Thomas. It was I that penned it.’

Blackdown could feel his anger start to bubble up. ‘You? How could you? I thought it came from my dear brother! Is this some kind of cruel game set up by my father to drive home his hatred of me? It is something he is capable of doing.’

‘Oh no, sir! Believe me when I say it was in desperation that she made me send it…’

‘She? Julianne?’

He nodded sharply. ‘Yes, sir, Miss Tresham. It was her desire to contact you and bring you to Blackdown again. I wrote the letter in your brother’s hand, though it would not fool anyone who knew him well. But you, you had not been in correspondence for many, many years.’

‘Why did she not simply write to me rather than invest in a cruel charade?’

‘Because she is afraid, Master Thomas. Afraid for her life. As indeed am I.’

For the first time Blackdown read the fear in the old man’s pale eyes, something he had not perceived before. He looked frail, about to crumble into dust at a single touch.

Blackdown asked Addison to sit down on the crude bed. ‘What are you afraid of? Tell me, I am here to protect you.’

‘You are locked in a prison and cannot even protect yourself, sir, and I am ashamed that I had a part in putting you here. I should never have agreed to Miss Tresham’s wishes. We should have found another solution other than the unforgivable dragging of an innocent into danger.’

Blackdown’s expression softened. The old man had been so good to him in his younger days, and the shadow of those fond memories still lingered in the servant’s age-carved features. ‘I am here now. If you had been in trouble, you know you had but to ask and I would have come to help you. There is no need to go to the folly of sending me a false letter.’

‘But there is, sir!’ he said. ‘Julianne came to me. She confessed that she believed Jonathan was not killed by some beast but by a man’s hand. And what’s more, her father is somehow involved.’

Blackdown was taken aback. ‘Lord Tresham?’

He nodded. ‘Lord Tresham, sir.’

‘That is inconceivable!’

‘It is what Julianne believes. She knows that her father is embroiled in something more than a little sinister, but does not know what it is exactly. She believes it is something to do with the building of a canal…’

Putting a finger to his temple, Blackdown screwed his eyes up in thought. ‘A canal? What is all this about, Addison? Julianne is naturally distraught over her loss of Jonathan and is clutching at straws. I fear for her health…’

Addison grabbed Blackdown by the wrist. His eyes were sombre and imploring. ‘Please hear me out, sir. I admit we do not know everything that is going on, but that something dark and insidious is happening which is slowly withering our land is without doubt. It is true that following your father’s denouncement as a spy and his long-running court battles Lord Tresham has been buying up large swathes of Blackdown land. There was no reason to suspect his motives. He appeared sincere when explaining to Julianne his desire to preserve the land for the Blackdowns so that it would not be split up, and to sell it back at a later date. Your father and he were close friends for many years and Julianne fully believed her father’s motivations. After all, he has land a-plenty, not only here but in Ireland and in the South East of England. The Blackdown land is not rich in minerals, much of it suitable only for sheep, and it has never been easy to raise money off it, as you know. Lord Tresham paid well over the odds for some tracts of it.

‘Then Julianne stumbled across documents detailing the building of a canal that would link the Bridgwater Canal north of the Blackdown Hills to the rich quarries and mines deeper in the south west. The canal would have to cut through a large part of Lord Blackdown’s land to do so. She suspects her father is about to sell this vital land to the developer, The Pegasus Canal Company. Sir, I have done a little investigation into what the Pegasus Canal Company is, and it transpires Sir Peter Lansdowne is an investor in the venture. In fact, taken to its natural conclusion, the canal will provide a profitable link between the many tin mines and lime and stone quarries that sit in his estate, rather than his companies undergoing the expense and time taken in hauling it on carts by road. He would recoup his investment a thousandfold if this development went ahead.’

‘And you have evidence of Lord Tresham intending to sell the land?’

Addison nodded. ‘It appears so, Master Thomas. I have seen letters, shown to me by Miss Tresham, that have passed between Lord Tresham and the owner of The Pegasus Canal Company, a Mr Ravenbard…’

‘Ravenbard, you say?’ said Blackdown.

‘Do you know of him?’

‘No, but that is the second time today I have heard the name. What do you know about this Ravenbard?’