Somewhat Scandalous (Brambridge Novel 1) (26 page)

“We had better not be late, then. We only met at the Fountain to discuss strategy.”

“And for the breakfast of course.”

Henry groaned as Bill grinned.

The four men guided their horses out of the Inn’s stable yard and straight over the grassy verge into a fallow field that had not yet been readied for planting. The horses’ hooves made little sound on the soft ground.

They followed the field until they reached a small lane which led in one direction back down into Brambridge Village, and in the other towards Ottery St Mary. They turned towards Ottery St Mary first, before cutting across on a green track.

“I am a little lost,” said Anthony doubtfully as Henry led them from the front.

“I’ve lived here all my life,” Bill said as he urged his horse into a trot up the hill behind Henry. “This area is full of tracks. They are well used. This will take us back to Hawk’s house the back way.”

Freddie laughed and withdrew a hip flask from his pocket. After tipping some of it down his throat, he cheerfully offered it to the other men.

“I think it is a bit early for me.” Anthony raised his eyebrows and darted a quick look at Henry. “I’ll have a cup of tea later.”

Henry kicked his horse and took the lead again.

As they crested the top of the hill, Berale House stood in the distance. It glowed squarely golden in the early morning sunlight, taking on a pinkish hue. Large windows reflected the sky. The grounds were immaculately kept with symmetrical plant borders and a small fountain to the front of the house. Henry frowned. There was something different about the house. It felt more
welcoming
somehow than when he had first reopened it.

“He really does have a nice house, doesn’t he?” Henry heard Freddie say. “I wonder why he doesn’t have any peacocks or guinea fowl?”

“Probably because he is coming and going at all times of the day and night and peacocks are bloody noisy if you disturb them.” Bill pulled sharply at his great horse’s reins as it sidestepped. “Met a lady over Seaton way. She had a couple.”

Henry shook his head. “Ye gods.”

In an uncomfortable silence, the men reached the edge of the estate where the hedges thinned slightly as if disturbed by constant use. Henry left the men behind and dismounted from his horse.

“Where’s Anglethorpe gone?” Freddie swung his leg over and hopped off his horse.

“Typical. He was with us a moment ago.” Bill hung onto the back of the horse as he dropped heavily to the ground.

“If you were a bit quieter, you would have seen me.” Henry stepped out from a kink in the hedge. His steps were silent as he walked towards them in the long grass.

“So that is how he does it. Like a tiger stalking its prey,” Freddie muttered audibly. Anthony watched silently as Henry approached.

“We have a problem. I cannot go in with you.” Henry clenched his fingers in a fist. “The woman says she has information in reference to
Monsieur Herr
. I think she is telling the truth, but I also don’t trust her. I had to tell her I worked in the stables.”

“How will you hear what is going on?” Freddie waved his hip flask in Henry’s direction and took another swig.

“The stables have vents that carry sound from one to the other. I’ll stand in the next door stable and listen in to the conversation.”

The men nodded and, tying their horses loosely to the hedge, stalked round the path to the stables, Henry half a yard behind.

The woman was still asleep in the stable stall when the men entered, crashing the stable door against the wall. She must have awoken with a start because she let out a quick huff of air that even Henry could hear in the next door stall. It was clear that she was instantly focused, however, and not at all intimidated.

“Gentlemen, you seem to have me at a disadvantage.”

Quietly, Henry pulled a bucket towards the vent and stood on it, attempting to peer through the slats. It wasn’t enough just to hear what she was saying, he needed to see too. Sometimes the body language said everything that was being left out. By tilting his head slightly, he gained a good view of Monique. She pulled her cloak closer around her as the men took in her undressed sleeping state. The curls in her long hair cascaded over her shoulders in disarray, and here and a small piece of straw had lodged itself in her tresses.

“Tell us what you know of
Monsieur Herr
.” Bill squared his shoulders.

The woman tsked. “Not even a cup of tea or hot chocolate?”

“You are being paid for your information. There is no need for formalities.” Freddie leaned elegantly against the damp stable wall. “Answer the question.”

The woman removed a piece of straw from her hair, letting her cloak slide down her body and revealing an expanse of tightly-laced chest. “I know that she is a woman.”

Freddie looked at Anthony, who nodded. “She’s telling the truth.”

“Of course I am.” She looked downwards and closed her cloak around her. “She also knows Lord Anglethorpe very well.” She gazed at the three men and winked. “In fact, their relationship started around five years ago. Why do you think Anglethorpe reopened his family home in this godforsaken cove despite his mother dying here? He’s been sending messages up and down the coast on her behalf for years.”

Freddie stiffened. “What’s her name?”

“Agatha Beauregard, of course.” Monique stretched languidly, the tops of her breasts threatening to pop out of her corset. “Ask anybody around here and they will tell you that when she and her little girl first came to live here, the little girl would only speak in French. Agatha couldn’t get her to shut up.”

Henry wobbled slightly on his bucket. This woman was clever, so convincing, twisting the truth and adding in half lies to add credence to her tale. He wanted to stop her there and then but held back. Monique still hadn’t revealed anything that he didn’t know.

“How do you know it is her? Agatha, I mean,” Anthony demanded, his eyes flicking from Freddie to Monique.

“Bah. I will not reveal my sources. And that is all I am going to tell you. I have nothing more.”

“I’ll guard her,” Freddie said roughly. “Anthony, Bill, you two go and fetch the stable boy. He will take her down to the boat again when we are ready.”

“But…”

“Just do it, Anthony.”

Bill left first. Anthony more cautiously left the stable block backwards, his eyes on Monique.

Stepping down from the bucket, Henry quickly left the adjacent stable and, rounding the building, turned left and loped around to the back of the block where he found Anthony. He beckoned quietly to him. Anthony nodded and followed Henry into the wooded boundary behind the stables.

Henry stopped in a small clearing where Bill already sat. “We couldn’t talk by the stable block. The sound goes both ways through the vents to the outside and to the adjacent stable. I heard everything. Believe me, Lovall, I have not been sending messages up and down for
Monsieur Herr
.” Henry sat suddenly on a tree stump and put his head in his hands. “God, what a mess.”

“Absolutely.” Anthony turned around and found himself a dry branch to perch against. “She wasn’t lying, however. Apart from the part about you sending messages. It was only at that point that she put her hand to her chin and wouldn’t meet our eyes.” He shook his head. “I just don’t understand how she could have said the other statements as the truth.”

Henry licked his lips; for so long he had defended Agatha in his mind against all the evidence and yet this woman’s words were so persuasive. He drew a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped roughly at his mouth. “Perhaps each statement individually is the truth,” he said slowly, “but put together forms a lie.”

Bill shifted in his seat. “I’m not sure I understand, sir?”

“Take that comment about Harriet, Agatha’s niece. She spoke French because of her mother, not her aunt.”

“What about you opening up the estate?”

Henry shifted uncomfortably. “It’s true. I opened it because of Agatha. I… every year I came to make sure she was alright.” He stared at the path back to the stables. “We weren’t precise enough in our questioning. If you take out the blatant lie, the conversation went as follows, ‘Why do you think Anglethorpe reopened his family home in this god forsaken cove?’ Freddie asked ‘What is her name?’ and she answered ‘Agatha Beauregard, of course’.”

“So…” Anthony paused, “err… the only other things we can draw as true in the conversation are that
Monsieur Herr
is a woman, and that you met her five years ago.”

“Yes, I agree. Relationship could mean anything from acquaintance to friend to lover…”

“I’m going to need a list of all the women that you met five years ago, sir. And the status of your relationship with them. And we still can’t rule out Agatha at this time.”

Henry rubbed his shoulders tiredly. “I agree,” he said resignedly. “Go and get Freddie and I’ll take over the woman from here. Bill, you should go back to the forge.”

Bill stood from his precarious perch on the branch and nodded at Henry. He disappeared quietly through the trees. Anthony waited.

“I just don’t understand, sir.”
      “What is it, Harry?”

“
Mister Herr’s
signature. If it is a woman, then why does she always sign herself ‘him’?

Henry shook his head. “We’ll find out more. Go and get Freddie.”

Nodding, Anthony left. Henry waited; minute after minute ticked by but Anthony did not reappear.

Henry pushed his way back through the trees and towards the corner of the building. As he turned, a swirl of grey moved quickly round the next corner in front of him. He strode faster, trying not to make a sound, but there was no one in the entrance to the stables. The only noise was of the few remaining horses gently thumping their stable doors and clopping their hooves on the cobbled floors.

The stable where Monique was being held was suspiciously quiet too; the stable door firmly closed. Carefully, Henry unbolted the door. Freddie lay sprawled on the floor, blood pooling in the straw next to him as Anthony held a gash on his head.

“Freddie!” Henry leant over his body, jerking as the sounds of screaming horses filled the air. “Good God, where’s Monique?”

Anthony shook his head. “She was already gone when I arrived.”

“Did you not hear her lock you in?”

“Freddie was moaning too loudly.”

Outside, a horse screamed, and then another, stricken cries renting the air. Springing to his feet, Henry strode into the yard. The previously stabled horses milled in the interior courtyard, nipping at each other, cantering and rearing.

Henry caught sight of the central horse; blood dripped from slashes scored along its coat. It was Anthony’s horse that had been tied to the hedge outside the estate. In horror he circled the screaming horses; each one had been maimed in the same way, all were unridable, but one was missing. With a curse, he stumbled out of the stable courtyard, swinging his head from right to left.

But Monique was nowhere to be seen and she’d taken Henry’s own horse with her.

CHAPTER 33

Agatha watched open mouthed as the small form of a woman cantered straight out of the stables on Henry’s horse not three feet in front of her. It was the woman Henry had met from the previous night.

As she rounded the corner, Henry stumbled out of the stable yard and fell into a corner as the hooves of several flying horses narrowly missed him.

“Where did she go?” he gasped.

“Toward Ottery St Mary.” Agatha jerked at her horse’s bridle. “Take my horse.”

Henry stared at her before grabbing wildly at the horse, missing the first time. The second time he caught the horse quickly and vaulted into the saddle. He wheeled the horse in a circle.

“Look after Freddie and Lovall, first stable on the right.” He glared at Agatha. “And when I come back I want to know how you knew just the right time to turn up.” Curtly he whipped the horse, which responded by jumping forward into a canter out of the stable gates.

Quickly, Agatha motioned behind her. Harriet and Victoria stepped out from the shadowy alcove to the left of the stable entrance.

“Good thing we arrived when we did,” Harriet cried as they ran towards the first stable.

“I wish we had heard more.” Agatha muttered further curses under her breath.

She took a sharp intake of air as she saw Freddie. He lay on his back, his head to one side on a makeshift pillow of Harry’s coat, his eyes rolled back in his head.

Anthony glanced at them quickly. “I need bandages. Quickly, and clean water. Used to dress wounds like this on the Peninsular.  We must stop the blood loss.”

“I’ll get the water.” Victoria rushed to the outside tap that supplied clean water from a nearby spring for the stables.

Harriet set about tearing the bottom of their petticoats off. At raised eyebrows from Lovall, she glared at him.

“Where do you think we are going to get bandages?” Harriet demanded.

Lovall grunted and turned back to loosening Freddie’s clothing. Agatha wrinkled her nose.

“Has he been drinking?”

“Perhaps.”

“He seemed fine to me at the ball he hosted.” Agatha looked down at the bandages Harriet handed to her.

“Just don’t tell Anglethorpe.” Anthony resumed pulling at Freddie’s jacket. “Freddie won’t tell me what is wrong. Henry and Harding cannot find out otherwise they’ll think he’s cracked.”

“How on earth did Freddie manage to get bested by that woman?” Victoria huffed as she lugged a clean pail of water in from the yard. Setting it down with a clang, she wiped her fingers on her riding habit. “What else can we do, Mr. Lovall?”

“Nothing, my lady.” Anthony looked down at Freddie, who fidgeted at the bandages that covered his head, slowly returning to consciousness. “If you could send some men from the house with a stretcher we should take him back there, as your guests will start arriving soon.”

Victoria clapped a small hand to her mouth. “My guests!” Picking up her skirts, she hurried back out of the yard and up the path to the house.

Agatha took off her riding cloak and pushed it under Freddie’s head. “I couldn’t help think that I recognized that woman.”