Moon Cutters (18 page)

‘You should be grateful he didn’t pull the trigger.’

‘I’ve told Tom Pepper he’s to make sure to keep his activities at a low-key level. I don’t want to spend the remainder of my life watching my back.’

‘Tom Pepper and his crew will do as he’s always done, with or without you. They’re all sewer rats and you can’t trust any one of them. The trouble with you, Fletcher, is that you’ve got a conscience.’

‘So have you! You know, uncle, we should forget the smuggling and work the land together – in the same way we run the shipping company. You’re a much better farmer than I could ever be.’

‘It’s a thought, and I’ll consider it.’

‘Tell me about those young women.’

His uncle stared into his glass and smiled. ‘I wondered when you’d get round to asking. Miranda is a fetching little thing, isn’t she? They have nobody to care for them – except me. I thought I might wed the older one and breed from her. She didn’t seem very keen on the idea, so I’m giving her a little time.’

It was dropped into the conversation casually, as though Miranda was a brood mare. Fletcher felt sick. ‘What if she decides against it?’

His uncle shrugged. ‘If I cannot persuade her, there are other options to explore. I’ve spent a considerable amount of money on that pair. I look on them as an investment and they owe me.’

Fletcher could only imagine what those options were. ‘And the younger girl?’

He shrugged. ‘In a year or so, she’ll be old enough to wed. Simon Bailey needs a young wife to keep him busy. I’m sure I could supply Lucy with a dowry – not a big one, of course, but enough for Simon to feel grateful towards me. You know … that idea of combining the estates is a good one. I’ll expect my name to be on the deeds, of course.’

His uncle was still as devious as they came, Fletcher thought, trying not to grin. ‘I bought Monksfoot fair and square. I had no idea that Silas intended to leave his estate to me. One day, I’ll marry and produce a child or two of my own. I’m not such a fool that I’d jeopardize their futures for your present.’

The brandy in the glass on the table began to ripple, and there was a low rumble followed by an explosion. The boards trembled under their feet. The dogs set up a clamour of barks and the glass in the cabinet tinkled.

‘What the hell!’

The first explosion was almost immediately followed by a second.

The two gazed at each other, then shot to their feet.

Voices were heard in the hall and then the door was thrust open and Jack Pridie came in. ‘I think the new gatehouse and walls have been destroyed, Sir James.’

‘The devil they have! Where was the watchman – asleep? Arm the men and get over there. If he survived the explosion, dismiss him.’

Sir James moved to the side table. Taking out a pistol, he cocked it, turned and aimed it at Fletcher’s head.

Fletcher’s scalp seemed to shrink when his uncle said, ‘I’m of a mind to kill you. I was a fool to allow you to advance over the doorstep.’

Andrew Patterson called out, ‘You have no reason to believe this was done on Fletcher’s orders, Sir James.’

But his uncle wasn’t listening to reason and Fletcher had cause to be worried. Sir James was a crack shot, and from this distance he’d probably blow half his head off.

‘You have to the count of five to get out of my house. If you set foot on my property again, I’ll leave instructions for you to be shot out of hand. One …’

‘This is not my doing, uncle.’

‘Two …’

There came a babble of voices from the landing, and Fletcher caught a glimpse of Miranda in the shadows. Her arm was around her sister, her hair a shining cascade about her shoulders, though they were still in their clothes. Both pairs of eyes were as wide as saucers.

‘Three …’

She did what he prayed she wouldn’t: left her sister’s side and advanced down the stairs, trying to distract his uncle. ‘What’s happened? Why are you pointing that gun at Fletcher?’

‘Four … Get back upstairs, girl,’ his uncle said sharply.

‘Do as you’re told, Miranda,’ Fletcher shouted in alarm, but on the count of five she moved between them and threw herself against him. Arm sliding round her, he swung her aside.

‘Five!’

Surely his uncle wouldn’t be stupid enough to kill him in cold blood, and in front of witnesses? Fletcher cursed, but he knew he was right. At the last moment, Sir James sloped the weapon away from them, his finger still taut against the trigger.

It discharged, and there was a chorus of screams from the small group of ladies assembled on the landing.

‘Miranda,’ Fletcher whispered and caught her up in his arms as Lucy half tumbled down the stairs to Miranda.

It had taken the bullet but an instant to punch a ragged tear in Miranda’s sleeve. It had emerged further along the fabric and had lodged in a cushion on the hall seat in an eruption of feathers.

Lucy’s shocked screech echoed through the house.

Fletcher relaxed. ‘It’s all right, Lucy; she’s not injured. It’s just a faint and your sister is already showing signs of coming round. I’ll bring her up to her room.’ He nodded to a wide-eyed maid. ‘Ask Mrs Pridie to attend to Miss Jarvis.’

The servant aimed an uneasy glance at Sir James, who said calmly, ‘It was an accident; the girl distracted me and the gun went off. Get about your work now.’

‘Yes, sir.’ She scurried off, as if eager to escape the reach of Sir James’s trigger finger as well as relate the goings-on to the rest of the servants.

Lucy exclaimed, ‘Oh! Thank goodness,’ and she burst into tears as she followed Fletcher and his burden up the stairs.

The room that had once belonged to Fletcher’s mother had a fragrance peculiar to females, of perfume and powder and the more floral scents used in the pastille burner.

He lowered his dainty burden to the bed and gazed at the portrait of himself hanging there. He couldn’t imagine being so young and smooth-faced. He couldn’t recall much about his mother either – couldn’t remember ever being close to her. He only remembered snatches of his infancy, and her indifference had kept him at bay.

To make up for it, there had been a nursemaid when he was very young, a woman who’d held him to her breast and tenderly kissed away his hurt. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath and the familiar, spicy and poignant smell of her seemed to infuse him for just a second before it eluded him again. One day she hadn’t been there any more and he’d felt lonely without her.

Miranda made a startled little noise and scrambled upright. ‘Are you all right, Fletcher? You’re not hurt?’ She gazed around the room, bewildered, and her eyes fell on Lucy. ‘I remember now.’

Lucy scolded her. ‘You gave me such a scare, Miranda. What on earth did you hope to achieve?’

‘It was an instinctive moment of decision.’

‘It certainly was. Mr Taunt looks as though he’s capable of defending himself, though.’ Lucy gave a bit of a giggle, though her eyes were still damp. ‘You’ve certainly given everybody something to talk about. I bet Sir James is lathered up with guilt in case he’s killed you.’

Fletcher chuckled. His uncle didn’t know what guilt was, let alone give in to it. All the same, he liked this younger sister of Miranda’s. ‘So much for my family reunion.’

‘It was enthralling – so passionate and sincere that it brought tears to my eyes. I enjoyed every moment. You bear a strong resemblance to Sir James, Mr Fletcher.’

He hoped the resemblance was physical rather than stemming from nature. ‘So I’m given to understand, Miss Lucy.’

Mrs Pridie came in, carrying two glasses of milk. ‘Sir James requests that you join him in the hall immediately, Mr Taunt.’ She turned to the two young women. ‘He’s sent up a sleeping draught. He said to take it early so it will calm your nerves.’

Crossly – and Fletcher could almost imagine her stamping her foot as anger replaced any fear she’d felt – Miranda said, ‘My nerves are just fine; it’s Sir James’s nerves that need attention if he pulls a gun on his guests at the slightest provocation. Tell him to drink it himself.’

‘I’ll leave it on the table in case you feel the need for it later.’

Fletcher exchanged a grin with Mrs Pridie. ‘I’ll leave her in your good hands, Mrs Pridie. They’re much safer than mine. At this moment, I feel like hanging Miss Jarvis here over my knee and smacking that pert little backside of hers.’

It was to his great satisfaction that Miranda blushed before she glared at him, saying, ‘Ungrateful wretch! Next time I’ll allow him to blow your damn-fool head off.’

‘Which would make me feel marginally better than watching you get your damn-fool head blown off.’ His smile encompassed them both. ‘Thank you for saving my life, Miss Jarvis; I’m indebted to you. You and Miss Lucy must come and visit me at Monksfoot.’

‘Hah!’ she said, as bristly as a dog with a bone, and Lucy giggled.

‘Best you don’t go stirring up trouble for yourself, young man,’ Mrs Pridie said, clucking her tongue when he gave her a hug and planted a kiss on her cheek. ‘You always had more than your fair share of charm, and you’ll need all of it to talk yourself back into the good graces of Sir James. Be off with you now.’

When Fletcher went downstairs, his uncle didn’t look in the least bit contrite, just disgruntled, for he’d always disliked the calm of his household being disturbed. He was wearing his topcoat. ‘I’m willing to believe you’re innocent in this matter, Fletcher. I was too hasty.’

Fletcher knew that was probably all the apology he’d get from him, yet he couldn’t help but needle him a little. ‘I’m relieved to be alive.’

‘You know damned well I wouldn’t have shot you out of hand. However, over the past two years you haven’t done anything to inspire my confidence, either.’

‘And neither have I done anything to worsen the situation between us, though there has been provocation that could have resulted in retaliation. Most of the time I was on board the
Midnight Star
, learning as much seamanship as I could absorb to further the business. A man should be aware of the practicalities of sailing a ship if he intends to run a shipping company, and it’s a hard life for those on board.’

‘A man gets paid an amount equal to the work he puts in. Now, I’m going to see what damage has been done. Put your coat on and come with me. The others are waiting outside with the dogs, and we’re all armed. Here, take this pistol, and make sure that female doesn’t get in front of it. Has she recovered from her fright?’

‘She’s as mad as a nest of wasps.’

‘Serves her right.’ With some irritation, his uncle added, ‘Women should keep their noses out of a man’s business. Where’s that damned dog got to?’

When his master gave three sharp whistles, Caesar came from the house, but he was reluctant and kept looking back and whining.

Sir James cuffed the dog across the nose. Caesar showed his teeth and growled. When struck again, the dog’s tail went between his legs and he rolled on his back in the submissive position. A kick in the ribs made him yelp and got him on his feet. ‘That female is turning you into a fancy lap dog. I’ll have to give you a beating so you can learn who’s the boss.’

They went on foot, the moon allowing them enough light to cover the ground safely.

Caesar had slunk off to join his parents. Fletcher felt sorry for the animal. Well trained though he was, he had been guarding Miranda, no doubt by his uncle’s orders, and he was now confused by his own instincts.

The night was clear and there was nobody about except for his uncle’s workers, who stood in a group. Their voices rumbled as they stood around talking amongst themselves. The light from the lanterns illuminated their faces and gave them a demonic appearance.

There had been considerable damage done to the wall. The gates were bent and the pillars blown apart so the stones were scattered. Smoke and dust rose into the air.

‘Has anyone seen the gatekeeper?’

There was a general shaking of heads.

They turned at the sound of riders, and pistols were displayed. It was Simon Bailey and three of his men.

Bailey said, ‘We were riding the coast looking for signs of catchers and heard an explosion. What has happened, Sir James?’

‘Someone’s demolished the new gate and part of the boundary wall, and the keeper is missing.’

Simon’s eyes gleamed in the lantern light. ‘We’ll keep our eyes open for him.’ His gaze ran over the men and stopped on Fletcher. ‘Mr Taunt, I noticed your lugger isn’t at its mooring. Gone across to Cherbourg, has she?’

Fletcher nearly cursed out loud, and his brain scrambled to come up with anything that sounded remotely plausible. ‘Could be. The
Wild Rose
is delivering sacks of seaweed fertilizer for the French farmers, and doing a little fishing on the way back.’

Simon Bailey nodded. ‘I’d expect you to keep the fertilizer for your own fields. Still, what do I know about farming? I’ve heard a rumour that you intend to have Monksfoot Abbey under cultivation as soon as possible.’

‘Have you indeed? News travels quickly, and farming wouldn’t be part of your duties, surely?’

‘It’s amazing what can be found hidden in a haystack.’

His uncle didn’t even bat an eyelid and astonished him with a display of family unity. ‘I was discussing the possibility of combining the two estates earlier with my nephew, just before we heard the explosion. He prefers to be running the shipping side of the business, so any questions regarding agriculture should be directed to me.’ His eyes took in the ruined walls and his mouth tightened. ‘There’s nothing that can be done until morning, so we might as well return to the house, gentlemen.’

Bailey tipped his hat, though he didn’t seem inclined to leave. ‘I’ll ask the master of the revenue cutter to keep a special look out for the
Wild Rose
. He’s patrolling the coast tonight, along with one of the Navy cutters. It’s going to be right busy out there in the Channel. I wouldn’t want them to mistake her for a smuggler when she’s going about her lawful business for the Fenmore and Taunt Shipping Company. That Navy cutter is well armed, as is the revenue boat. She could blow the bows right off the
Wild Rose
, so I hope she’s flying the company colours from her mast.’