This depressing talk did nothing to lighten Esther’s mood. Was it to be her lot in life to grow old alone, at the inn? “At least Lady Gloria will have you for company this evening, Auntie.”
“Yes, we will be playing cards in her room. You are more than welcome to join us.”
To avoid this fate Esther said, “I have some business to discuss with Buck.”
“Make sure he keeps the office door closed. You wouldn’t want strangers staring in at you.”
Eventually Lady Brown went upstairs to play cards with Lady Gloria, and Esther went to Buck’s office, as it gave better access to Officer Clifford and doings at the inn. At eight-thirty Clifford came tapping at the door.
“No sign of Meecham,”
he informed Esther. “I daresay, he is still with Mr. Ramsay at the Abbey.”
“Why don’t you ride over and make sure?”
she suggested.
“Nay, I have to keep an eye on the rest of your customers. Ye have other gents here that might be planning to strike out at nine to meet the Wrothams.”
Esther looked at Buck. “Perhaps you would just post over to Josh’s place, Buck. Ask him if he has the list for his ball ready. I have offered to write up his cards for him.”
Buck’s eyes grew wide. “You mean—go alone?”
he asked.
Another hero. “No, go in the carriage, and take a groom with you.”
Buck wiped his brow, where a film of moisture had sprung up. “I don’t suppose Captain Johnnie would be working the main road, so close to town,”
he said, to ease his own worries.
“I shouldn’t think so,”
Esther agreed.
Clifford listened. The lad had no more backbone than a dormouse. “Not a chance in Hades,”
he added. “He sticks to the heath, does Captain Johnnie.”
Thus assured, Buck removed his watch, ring, and tiepin, just in case, and went to call the groom. Officer Clifford became bored with his vigil, and when two male clients left the dining room, he said, “That pair bears watching. I’ll just follow them a ways down the road and see they don’t veer off to the heath. There is no saying who might be the Scamp. I’d look nohow if I let him walk right out from under my nose.”
Esther glanced out to see whom he had chosen for his quarry. “Why, that is Mr. Belfoi and his son. They stop for dinner every week on their way home from London on business. They will only be going home.”
“In London every week, you say? That sounds highly suspicious.”
“They’ll take the west road home to Henley. They always do.”
Clifford’s eyes narrowed to slits. “So they’d have ye believe. I don’t suppose you’ve ever followed them?”
“No, I haven’t.”
Clifford shook his head at her simplicity. He jammed on his hat and hustled out after the Belfois. Esther sat on alone. She did not feel it necessary to have the local judge and vicar followed when they left her dining room, nor did she think it likely a local family with two children would take to the heath. She drummed her fingers impatiently, occasionally glancing at the London newspaper that had arrived late that afternoon.
Half an hour later Buck returned unscathed. “Joshua wasn’t home, nor was Meecham at the Abbey,”
he reported. "They dined there early, but had left an hour before I arrived. Since Meecham left with Joshua, I shouldn’t think you have to worry, Esther.”
“Did you find out where they went?”
“They didn’t leave word. Josh is probably taking Meecham to call on some of his relatives. He seems taken with the lad. Unlike Joshua to make a chum of a stranger on such short acquaintance,”
he mused.
“Then I guess there’s nothing to do but wait. My little scheme has come to nought.”
She picked up the journal and began scanning the columns. Her eyes riveted on the report of Captain Johnnie’s latest escapade, the holdup of the gold wagon. It gave an account of the guards who were murdered, the amount of gold coin taken, the intended destination, and so on. Toward the end she read, “Sir Clarence Fulbright, the deputy minister in charge of the transfer, is at a loss to know how Captain Johnnie learned of the shipment and believes he did not know in advance but came across it by accident.”
Sir Clarence Fulbright! The very gentleman Joshua had spoken to in London. Joshua’s main purpose in going to London was to hound Bow Street into a closer patrol of the heath. It must have been in his mind when he spoke to Fulbright. It was entirely possible Fulbright had mentioned the shipment leaving that very evening. But Joshua had denied it vigorously, as he vigorously denied that Meecham could possibly be involved.
Everything pointed to Meecham. Why would no one listen to her? She felt a rising panic and a growing certainty that Meecham was even now donning his black cape and mask—except that he was, presumably, with Joshua. Maybe he had made some excuse to get away.
“Buck, look at this,”
she said, fingering the article.
“I read it,”
he replied.
She told him about Joshua’s conversation with Fulbright. “By Jove, you don’t think old Joshua’s tied up in this business!”
“Good Lord, no. That wasn’t my meaning, but as he’s so close with Meecham, he might have let something slip.”
“Not if he didn’t want to. Joshua’s pretty close-lipped, and a clever rascal to boot.”
Something in Buck’s glinting eye sent a shiver up Esther’s spine. Buck was suggesting that Joshua was personally involved in the doings of the Royal Scamp. It took her breath away to consider such a possibility. “What are you suggesting?”
she asked. Her voice was high with disbelief.
“Joshua landed in just minutes before the Higginses the night they were robbed. You notice, he didn’t stick around but left immediately. He was afraid they’d recognize him.”
“That’s true. I thought it odd, for he had promised to walk me home.”
“There you are, then. And last night he and Meecham were whispering together in the card room. Minutes after, Meecham staggered upstairs playing at being foxed, but we know now he wasn’t. Where did Joshua go? Did anyone ask him?”
“I didn’t. But surely—oh, I can’t believe it, Buck.”
“He’s powerfully set on picking up Pilchener’s place. It costs a monkey, and how can he afford it?”
“But if this is true…”
“No real harm done. The Wrothams ain’t coming. Don’t I wish they were! Top of the trees. But they ain’t, so you need not fear they’ll be robbed.”
“But I would like to discover if Meecham and—”
she couldn’t speak Joshua’s name in such a context “—if Meecham is going after the Wrothams. I almost wish Beau Fletcher were here. He’d go after them fast enough.”
She looked at Buck assessingly.
He clutched at his cravat and backed away. “Now, Esther, don’t say it. Don’t even think it. I’m not riding out on the heath alone in the dead of night.”
“You wouldn’t be alone. You could take a footman—take two.”
“
Send
two,”
he suggested, “as soon as Clifford returns.”
“He should be here by now. He’s probably following the Belfois all the way to the Henley turnoff. He’ll be gone for an hour. We must do something, Buck.”
“By ‘we’, you mean I must do something. This was all your idea. You go after them.”
It was only desperation speaking, but Esther felt the justice of his claim. “I’ll go with you. I’m not afraid.”
“No! That would be worse than anything, to have a lady along to protect.”
“You won’t have to protect me. I’ll carry a pistol. I know how to shoot. Papa’s dueling pistols are in the safe. Get them out, and make sure they’re loaded. I’ll sneak down the kitchen stairs and meet you at the stable.”
She was already turning toward the door. “Send a set of footman’s livery up to my room, Buck, and have our mounts saddled up. Oh, and have a footman occupy your office while you’re away.”
“Esther!”
She was already gone. Buck paced the office, scratching his head and muttering mild curses, but in the end his chivalrous instincts held sway, and he followed Esther’s orders, to prevent the hurly-burly girl from going with only a footman to protect her. He should have bargained with her at least. This should have won him permission to hire a pastry chef.
While Esther snatched the blue livery from the servant and wiggled into trousers and jacket, Buck got out the pistols and carefully charged them. He held them as if they were red-hot, and might blow up in his face. When the distasteful job was done, he hid them under the newspaper, called in the head footman to guard his office, and went to the stable, where Esther was checking out Flame’s reins. She had her hair stuffed up under a hat, the brim pulled low over her face to hide her identity. The bay mare snorted in pleasure at this unexpected outing.
“Have you got the pistols?”
she asked.
“Under the paper,”
he muttered.
Mounting was difficult with his burden, but he finally got aloft and they cantered out to the road, where he gave Esther one pistol. His first concern was for propriety. “You’re riding astride, Esther. You’d be ruined if anyone recognized you.”
“No one did. I was careful.”
“I must be mad to go along with this scheme. We should have brought a brace of footmen.”
“It’s only Joshua and Meecham.”
“If we’re right, it’s only Captain Johnnie,”
he riposted, with heavy sarcasm.
“We’re not going to do battle with them, Buck. We only plan to watch. If they’re skulking on the heath, we’ll know the truth.”
“Small pleasure it will give me, I can tell you. I’ll have to report that my cousin is a highwayman. By Jove, the disgrace will kill me if Josh don’t. And then we’ll have to stand in the box at Old Bailey and give evidence. I can’t go through with it, Esther. Let us go home.”
All this misery was every bit as distasteful to Esther as to her companion. “We’ll do nothing of the sort. We’ll tell Clifford, and he can catch them red-handed. He’ll know then exactly whom to suspect and won’t waste his time following the Belfois to Henley. He can set his own trap.”
“If all we see is two dark forms skulking, how are we to know it’s Joshua and Meecham?”
“We’ll follow them at a discreet distance. If one sheers off to the Abbey and one to the inn, then we’ll know.”
After a short ride they came to the edge of the heath. Before them stretched the desolate waste dotted with low bushes and scrub, with an occasional tree casting a ghostly, mile-long shadow in the dim moonlight. The sickle moon far overhead looked white and cold and bathed the heath in silvery light. The heath was vacant of travelers, as far as the eye could see.
Buck exhaled a long sigh of relief. “They ain’t here. Let us go home.”
Esther spoke very reluctantly. “They wouldn’t loiter this close to town. We have to ride a little way onto the heath.”
“Josh and Meecham have gone somewhere to play whist. That’s what it is. You can see there isn’t a soul here."
“Then there’s no danger. Come on.”
She dug her heels into Flame’s flank and cantered ahead, with her heart racing in fear. Buck followed, most unwillingly.
As they rode, he kept up a nervous monologue that did much to destroy any shred of confidence left to her. “There’s a small stand of trees and a hut a mile forward. If that’s where they are, they could pick us off before we ever got a look at them.”
“Be quiet, Buck. You’re making my hair stand on end.”
As they drew nearer to the stand of trees, their canter slowed to a walk. Every step was agony, as they wondered if a masked figure would dart from the trees, ordering them to stand and deliver. A slight breeze stirred the branches, causing a hundred false alarms.
When Esther noticed Buck had taken his pistol from the saddle grip, she did likewise, but it was only scant help. They were highly visible. The concealing trees allowed no sign of their quarry. Esther swore a silent oath that if she escaped alive, she would never go in search of adventure again.
As Flame took the first step into the stand of trees, Esther feared her heart would burst. It pounded like a drum in her ears, muffling more important noises. Flame disliked the darkness, too, and whinnied her displeasure. It seemed a good excuse to speak, for Esther didn’t think Joshua would actually shoot if he knew it was she. He would let her pass and hope she didn’t discover him. “Good girl, Flame,”
she said loudly. Josh would recognize her mare’s name. “Good Flame.”
Buck sidled closer. His voice, when he spoke, trembled like a young girl’s at meeting her beau. “I say, so far so good.”
With white knuckles and bated breath, they passed through the dark spot and came out on the other side unharmed. Buck pulled to a halt. He gulped, and his body gave a convulsive shiver. “You may do as you like, Esther, but I ain’t going another step. I wager my hair will be gray by the time we get home—if we get home alive.”
Esther was greatly relieved at his stand. “Perhaps you’re right. This is far enough. You can see another mile ahead, and there is no sign of life. We cannot ride all the way to London.”
Yet, after so much trouble and danger, it was hard to go home no wiser than when they left. “Let us linger a while in the concealment of the trees,”
was her next suggestion. “If anyone comes, we are the ones who will have the advantage.”
“I say we leave while we can.”
“Just ten minutes, Buck.”
He stared into the distance, gauging it impossible for anyone to reach the trees so soon. “Well, ten minutes, but then we leave.”
He had left his watch behind but thought he could estimate ten minutes fairly accurately. Only four minutes had passed when two dark figures appeared on the horizon, pounding ventre a terre toward them.
“Let’s go!”
he whispered. “We can make the edge of town before they reach us.”
It was a strong temptation, but Esther held firm. “No, we’ll go in behind the trees and wait. They’ll never see us.”
Buck didn’t want to try to outrun them alone, and went along with her. His consternation was great when the riders slowed down as they approached the trees. The men were hardly even cantering, and it seemed possible they meant to stop altogether, which posed wicked problems.
Esther peered through the concealing branches and was sure she recognized one of the mounts. The leader was certainly Joshua’s Arabian, Sheba. As he drew nearer, she recognized Joshua’s form, and her heart turned to stone. She hardly glanced at the other figure, but the outline looked like Meecham. They did not stop but continued at a leisurely pace, talking nonchalantly as they went.