BLACKDOWN (a thriller and murder mystery) (8 page)

‘I heard your urgent calling, Lord Blackdown. Please forgive my rude entrance.’

He walked slowly up to Thomas and stood before him, looking him up and down.

‘And you are?’ Thomas asked.

‘Cornelius Reeve, at your service, sir,’ his head gave a tiny bow.

‘The leech,’ said Thomas.

The man smiled, his green eyes appearing to sparkle. ‘If you mean your father’s lawyer, yes.’ He turned to Erasmus Blackdown. ‘I was concerned… Is everything all right, Lord Blackdown?’

‘This is Thomas,’ he snapped, turning away. ‘He’s leaving.’

Cornelius Reeve nodded slowly. ‘I see.’ He scrutinised Thomas closely again.

‘This is a private conversation,’ Thomas said. ‘I’d appreciate it if you took you and that fat purse of yours out of the room so that we may continue it.’

‘I’ve no more to say,’ said Lord Blackdown. ‘Get him out of my sight, Reeve, before I order a gun and do it myself and to hell with the consequences.’

‘I mean to get to the bottom of my brother’s murder,’ said Thomas.

‘And by God there’ll be another one in this room!’ he bellowed. He began to cough violently, his entire body shaking with it, drawing out a handkerchief and thrusting it over his mouth. It came away with a speck of blood on it, stark and meaningful against the white cotton. Lord Blackdown put the handkerchief away immediately, but he could not stop the coughing.

‘Please, sir, let him rest,’ said Reeve to Thomas. He bent closer to the young man’s ear. ‘Regarding your brother’s death, I may be of assistance to you.’ He held his hand out to the door at the far end of the room.

Thomas Blackdown hesitated, and then nodded in acquiescence. ‘I thought briefly – foolishly – of reconciliation, father, for the sake of your son and my brother, but I see that is impossible. You are a man whose heart has been eaten by hatred and bitterness. You will die bitter. Mother would never have wanted it this way.’

‘She would not have wanted to die by her son’s hand either. Get him away from me, Reeve…’ He waved his pale hand peremptorily.

The two men left the room and closed the door on the lonely figure of Lord Blackdown. ‘Follow me, Mr Blackdown,’ Reeve said to Thomas.

‘Where are we going?’

‘Your brother left you something.’

‘My father is consumptive,’ said Thomas Blackdown as he walked by the side of Cornelius Reeve down the long corridor. Sunlight from a wall of windows to their right lit up the half-empty space. Where once had been furniture, ornaments and paintings there were large empty gaps. Even the carpet from India that had once stretched the corridor’s entire length was missing and their shoes and boots clicked harshly on stone.

‘Yes,’ said Reeve. ‘Your father is very ill.’

‘Yet still he fights pointless battles.’

‘Pointless? His good name is at stake.’

Blackdown glanced at the empty walls. ‘He was cleared of the charges of traitor, was he not?’

‘But the charge had done much to harm him. There were many people quick to denounce him, and your father means to make them pay for the slander and libel they dished out during that hard time.’

‘And how many battles is he currently engaged in?’

‘There is the libel action against the Earl of Stratford, one against Lord Bedminster, two of slander and one of libel against Nobles the publishers, one against Carlton Belford the industrialist, another against James Conroy the Tory MP… Those are the main suits we fight, but there are minor ones waiting in the wings.’

Blackdown shook his head. ‘And how many battles have been won thus far?’

Cornelius Reeve held open the door at the end of the corridor. ‘As a military man, you know how wars are waged. Some battles are won and some are lost, but it is the war’s outcome that is important.’

‘None, then.’ He said flatly.

‘Granted, it is proving to be a long war.’

‘And a costly one at that. He has drawn on everything he owns to wage it. And people like you simply encourage it, gleefully lining your own pockets till he lies dead in his grave and the bones of his life are picked clean.’

‘It is his will I bend to. He has been a respected and valued client of my firm for many a year. Would you hand him over to the buzzards completely? I was there for him when he was accused of being a traitor. I fought his case when my own standing was in danger of being tarnished by doing so. I was the one who revealed the documents to be elaborate forgeries, designed to besmirch his good name. And I am there for him now in his time of need. He has lost a great deal in his life, Mr Blackdown, and the last thing he wants before he dies is to lose the family name as well. He has instructed me he will fight till his last breath and last penny, whichever comes first.’

‘And stripping the house, selling the land, how is that not ruining what we had?’

‘A house, a field, they are but possessions. You can buy back possessions; you cannot buy back a gentleman’s name and social standing, Mr Blackdown. I thought you more than anyone would know that.’

They entered a largish room, a desk and chair at one end, stacks of beribboned documents on shelves, law books lining one wall. Reeve bade Blackdown sit.

‘You even have your own place here. Very comfortable,’ said Thomas.

He ignored him. ‘Your brother…’

‘He was murdered and no one was brought to book for it. How can that be, especially with the best lawyers in the country buzzing around his house like flies around shit?’

‘We cannot prosecute where there is no accused, Mr Blackdown. You cannot secure a conviction against a phantom.’

‘Don’t tell me you believe it was the work of Satan, too?’ He snorted derisively. ‘A man is torn to shreds and nobody knows anything about it? I cannot believe such a thing. Someone somewhere knows something, of that I’m certain.’

‘A bear was shot.’

‘A toothless bear was shot, and a couple of hounds, to make a show of justice more than anything.’

‘You were not here, Mr Blackdown. You cannot know the lengths to which people went in order to bring your brother’s murderer to trial.’

‘I know the lengths people will go to cover up tracks, Reeve. Let us assume that it was not the work of some devilish beast, and let’s assume Jonathan died at the hands of a mortal, which is the most likely explanation is it not? If it had been at the hands of a common man he would have been caught by now. They have neither brains nor means, influence or power, to cover up such an act.’

‘Influence? Power?’ He smiled. ‘Such a savage act is either the work of an animal or a lowly, debased mind. Influence and power has nothing to do with it. Such acts are the mainstay of the lower orders.’

‘And what motive would a man of such a low order possess?’

‘Money, revenge, or a man gone mad.’

‘The Reverend Bole told me Jonathan’s purse was found on him, and it was still full, so money wasn’t the motive.’

‘Perhaps the murderer was disturbed, ran away before he could take the purse. That was one theory.’

‘So he kills Jonathan for the money, then takes the time to carve him up. A strong man, too, from all accounts, to tear him limb from limb.’

‘Then perhaps there were two or more involved. A gang. There are many roaming the woods these days.’

‘And none of them are made any wealthier from it. Money wasn’t the motive here. A lunatic would stick out like a sore thumb, so that theory is thrown out. And revenge? Who would want revenge against Jonathan?’

‘Don’t forget your father was branded a traitor at the time. Who knows what a man might do to enact revenge on a man who betrays his country.’

Thomas Blackdown put a hand to his chin, rubbed at the stubble. ‘Jonathan had arranged to see someone in Devilbowl Wood. I think he knew his attacker.’

‘We only have your father’s word that Jonathan had arranged to meet someone, and he was in no rational state of mind at the time,’ said Reeve. ‘He could not be sure afterwards what his son had said to him.’

‘So what was Jonathan doing late in the evening in Devilbowl Wood? He had to be there for a reason.’

‘I’m afraid we go over old lines, Mr Blackdown. My concern now is with the cases put before me by your father.’

‘So we let it lie? We simply blame the Beast of Blackdown?’

Reeve sighed, steepled his fingers. ‘That is not the pressing business I have to attend to, much as Jonathan’s death caused such anguish at the time. It would be in your best interest, too, if you did not pursue it so vigorously. You are in danger of taking on your father’s obsessive mantle in chasing a cause, and as you say, it can sometimes do more harm than good.’ He smiled that same indeterminate lawyer’s smile again. ‘And looking at you, I can only assume you do not have the funds to pursue matters.’

Thomas Blackdown’s jaw stiffened. ‘I do not need lawyers to pursue matters,’ he said. ‘I carry all I need with me.’

‘I wish you luck. But back to the matter in hand. I said I had something for you, left you by your brother in his will.’ He drew out a sheet of rolled-up parchment from a drawer, untied the ribbon and laid it out. ‘In his will he bequeathed to you two trunks, which have remained in his room. Also the sum of three hundred pounds and such of his possessions as you deem fit to take, including his wardrobe and his favourite horse, saddles and associated tack, etcetera, etcetera.’ He rolled it back up. ‘Your father is aware of the will, but at the request of Jonathan he does not know about this element of its contents. Jonathan was concerned your father might disapprove of you benefiting in any way from his death and so block the will.’ He took a bag of coins from a cupboard and placed them on the desk. ‘Gold and silver,’ he said, ‘and banknotes, all to the tune of three hundred pounds.’ He rose from his seat and pulled on a bell cord by the window. ‘My advice is to take what is offered you and forget everything that has happened here. You cannot do anything about it, and you are far from welcome. Why stay to inflame matters?’

Moments later, Addison knocked at the door and came in, breathless from having dashed to Reeve’s call. ‘Yes, sir, Mr Reeve,’ he said.

‘Take Mr Blackdown to Jonathan’s room, Addison. He is to collect the two trunks left him by Master Jonathan Blackdown.’

‘Very good, sir,’ said Addison, backing out of the room and looking at Thomas to follow.

‘I reiterate, Mr Blackdown,’ said Reeve. ‘Take what is given to you and leave Blackdown Manor forever. You must know that Lord Blackdown has long ago removed you from his will and that you have no call on this place after his death, which, as you can see, is not long away. Your presence only makes matters worse for him. It will be best for both of you if you part now and go your separate ways.’

Thomas Blackdown rose from his seat. ‘And if I take your advice must I pay for it?’ he replied, his lips in a faint sneer. ‘I thank you, but I take no counsel from leeches.’ He went to the door. Paused. ‘And I aim to stay here in the Blackdown Hills till my business is concluded and my brother’s killer brought to trial. You forget, this is the place of my birth, it is my homeland. I am a Blackdown, and no pen and ink scratching away my name from a piece of parchment can wipe that away, much as my father would like to believe. So goodbye for now, Mr Reeve. We’ll no doubt speak again.’

‘You fight a hopeless cause, Mr Blackdown.’

‘In my life I have fought what seemed many hopeless causes, Mr Reeve.’

‘It will be for your own good,’ he said with a hint of intimidation in his words.

Blackdown sensed the threat and looked at Reeve thoughtfully. ‘Do you fight a cause of your own here?’

‘I know the ill feeling in the town and surrounding countryside towards your family. The only cause I fight is to restore your family’s name and respect. But if you wish to court that ill feeling it is on your own rash head.’

‘Having faced Napoleon’s muskets and cannon balls, do you think I’ll shrink away from what I have to do so readily? You do not know what stuff I am made of, Reeve. But you will find out.’

Reeve shrugged. ‘Your trunks await removal, Mr Blackdown. What else you do is entirely up to you. Good day.’ He bent his head to papers on the desk, waited till Blackdown had left the room and set about penning a letter. He finished it, sanded it, folded it and set his seal to it. He put it in his pocket.

Thomas Blackdown might bring them trouble, he thought acidly. But that was easy enough to attend to. A ragged down-on-his-luck ex-soldier like young Blackdown was a mere trifle in the grand scheme of things.

‘I’m sorry I locked you out of the room, Mr Addison,’ Thomas Blackdown said to the old man. ‘I needed to speak to my father, but in the event it was a waste of time as he didn’t care to listen. He is too far gone. You know he is dying?’

Addison nodded gravely. ‘He is racked with pain day and night, Master Thomas, but he will not give up his fight. It all conspires to drive him into his grave, but what can I do? I am but his humble servant, though I love the man dearly, as I loved all Blackdowns. To see it come to this breaks my heart, sir. Hundreds of years of tradition about to crumble to dust. He will not give you your birthright – Jonathan told me. But you are a legitimate Blackdown, Master Thomas, and Blackdown Manor should fall naturally into your hands to help secure its safekeeping so that it might last another thousand years.’

He unlocked a door and swung it open. The furniture was covered in dustsheets, and it had a damp, musty smell to it. He bent to a sheet and whipped it back. ‘Your trunks, Master Thomas, as Master Jonathan stipulated. And through there,’ he said, pointing to another closed door, ‘is where he kept his wardrobe. He was about your size, so you will find much to fit you, if you can bear to wear his clothes, which must be hard to contemplate.’

Blackdown lifted the heavy padlock on one of the trunks. ‘You have a key?’

Addison produced a large iron key from his coat and handed it over.’

Blackdown bent down and unlocked the padlock. He lifted the heavy wooden lid banded with iron hoops. The trunk was filled with clothes, a brass-edged mahogany box containing two fine pistols, and under this a number of folded letters tied into a bundle. He looked at the letters. ‘From Julianne Tresham,’ he said, lifting the bundle to his nose. There was a faint, lingering smell of feminine scent.

‘Master Jonathan was besotted with her. No one was happier than Lord Tresham that such a match was to be made. It joined the two old families of Blackdown and Tresham together for the first time. She is a beautiful young woman, ten years or so younger than Master Jonathan was, and I am certain they would have made a fine and happy couple. But your father did not approve of the match at all. In fact he flew into a rage over the suggestion. That caused a mighty rift between your father and your brother, if truth be known.’

‘My father and his rages go together like a hand fits in its glove.’ Blackdown placed the bundle back into the trunk. ‘And what happened when all this traitor-thing blew up around my father?’

‘Ah,’ said Addison, ‘that caused some consternation, to be sure. Anyone allied with Lord Blackdown was in danger of being brought down with him. But Lord Tresham was having none of it. He wanted Jonathan to marry his daughter and insisted the marriage go ahead. No one fought your father’s cause more readily than Lord Tresham. He remained loyal to your father, even though he blocked the marriage, until Master Jonathan’s death. It was around that time that Lord Blackdown had to sell off pieces of land to fund his court cases. He soon discovered Lord Tresham had secretly – or so he thought – bought up a lot of the Blackdown land for his own. After that, Lord Blackdown, largely because he was consumed by grief, accused Lord Tresham of profiting from his hardship and of conspiring against him along with all the other turncoats and backstabbers. They have not spoken to each other for three years.’