Jonathan Barrett Gentleman Vampire (142 page)

After we quit the Bell and finally Brighthelmstone altogether, we paused long enough for me to climb up to sit with the driver again. He had to go north a few miles to find and follow a thready east-west road through the downs. The softly rolling countryside held no beauty for me, but rather I imagined spies lurking in every fold of the land or clump of hedges. They could well be there, too, either Summerhill or some of his men, watching from a distance. The night was moonless and overcast, but by observing the driver I determined there was enough light for ordinary men to see by. The noise and movement of our coach and horses were visible against the pale chalky soil and dead grass; the lanterns were but an extra insurance for them. I kept my face well covered against any chance of recognition.

* * *

“Almost there, sir,” the driver announced, and I asked him to slow and stop the horses.

The land ahead rose on either side into two great rounded hills with a well-defined valley between. In the near distance I spied more such formations, a large one to my right and several more of varying sizes undulating away to the left.

“The Seven Sisters,” I said, making it half-question, half-statement.

“If the map is right, sir. Can’t count ’em from here.”

The wind was high, carried a strong sea smell and was, as ever, cold. It pounded at my ears and would have torn my hat away if I hadn’t already tied it fast with my woolen scarf.

Not a place I care to linger
, I thought as I clambered down from my perch. The others came one by one out from the coach and stood with me.

“Do you see anything?” Elizabeth asked, directing her query equally between Nora and myself.

We stepped away from the lanterns on the coach and carefully looked about.

“Nothing and no one,” Nora answered after a moment.

I pointed at the lowest part of the little valley ahead. “There’s something white.”

“White?” asked Oliver, stepping forward. “Like a rag?”

“I can’t quite make it out. Who’s for having a better look?”

They all were, it seemed. Oliver and Jericho carried lanterns while Nora and I led the way, with the coach slowly following our little party. We trudged as best we could over the uneven ground, until the white object became more clear. Someone had gone to considerable trouble building up a substantial cairn using chalk shards gleaned from the immediate area. Just over a foot high at its peak and several feet across, a length of white cloth had been placed in its midst, well anchored so as not to blow away.

The sea sound came to me now, strong and unexpectedly loud. The land, even in this depressed point, slanted up and away from us, cutting off the view beyond. I walked past the cairn and abruptly halted, realizing I was close to the brink of a fearful drop. Far past the ragged edge of eroded chalk was the vast restless shadow of the sea, dark gray under a gray sky.

“I’d say this was the place,” said Oliver, catching up.

“Have a care,” I told him, stepping back several paces and holding out one hand as a warning. “The earth is badly crumbled here. Clarinda mentioned it in the note.”

“So she did,” he said, frowning. “And very decent of her, I’m sure. Now what?”

I looked left and right up at the crests of the hills, half expecting armed men to appear and come bearing down on us like a barbarian hoard.

“Jonathan, we’ve found something,” Nora called, drawing us back.

Oliver’s circle of light joined theirs where Elizabeth and Jericho stared at the cairn. I followed the line of their gaze to the white rag, which was not held in place by the weight of the chalk, but from having one end tied to a partly buried leather pouch.

“It must be theirs,” said Nora. “That hasn’t been left out in the weather.”

Jericho started to drag it clear, grunting when it caught on something. He freshened his grip and pulled hard. It came free, at the same time revealing the impediment. The pouch had a long carrying strap, and the strap was wrapped around a man’s arm.

Thus did we discover Arthur Tyne’s body.

* * *

The grim disinterment did not take long; we all worked at it. Shaken as we were after the first terrible shock, the activity was necessary to keep from thinking too much, or so it was for me. My worry of the moment was mostly for Elizabeth and Nora, on how this might affect them—until I came to understand they were more concerned over my well-being than their own.

“Shot,” said Oliver after a brief examination. “Clean through the heart.”

“Why would they kill him?” asked Jericho, brushing dust from his hands.

They looked to me. As though I had any answers. “Perhaps he slowed them down.”

“Or Clarinda didn’t need him anymore,” said Elizabeth. “Or this Captain Summerhill was more to her liking.”

“Whatever the reason, they wanted us to find him, to know how-how easily and how willing they are to kill.”

Oliver stood. “Clarinda’s
not
going to let them touch Richard.” He said it firmly, as though he believed it.

Any reply I made would have either been a lie of agreement or throwing the hope he meant to impart back in his face. Instead, I gestured at the leather pouch. “Anything in it?” I asked.

Jericho plucked it up and pushed back the thing’s flap. “Yes! Some paper . . . “ He hurriedly unfolded it, holding it flat against the wind so we could read.

“Put the gift in the bag, then throw it over the cliff. There’s a village about a mile east of this point with a path down to the beach. Go there, then come west again. R will be waiting for you if you still want him. Use great care and caution lest harm befall you.”

I left my lantern and tore back to the cliff. The closer I got to the edge, the more perilous the footing. I didn’t care. Oliver called out, but I chose not to listen. The last few feet I fell to my hands and knees and crept up to the fragile brink.

Oh, but it was a well-considered spot for them. From this more immediate vantage I saw how the Sisters, a series of hills overlooking the sea, seemed to have been sliced down the middle by a giant’s knife to reveal their chalky vitals. The knife had been a jagged thing, for the cliff sides rose high in long irregular vertical slashes, marred with many cracks and few if any ledges, impossible to climb up or down. At their base far below ran a wide strip of beach, covered with fallen debris from the cliffs, broken stones, seaweed, and tidal flotsam.

On that beach I spied several figures, a boat and, waiting out in deeper water, a small ship.

“What is it?” Oliver demanded. He also dropped to his hands and knees, crawling the remaining distance to join me. “What do you see?”

“They’re down there,” I said. “The lot of ’em. There’s their ship. Do you see it?” I pointed.

He squinted. “I think so. Where are they?” A pause as I pointed again. “No, sorry, can’t make out a thing in this murk. Damn good luck for us that you can. Is Richard—?”

“I’m looking.”

The figures huddled near the boat, which had been dragged up onto the beach. I saw several men, then a woman sitting on one of the larger rocks—Clarinda. My heart jumped right into my throat, for close against her breast she held a child-sized bundle.

“God, he’s down there! She has him!”

His hand fell hard on my shoulder, keeping me from going right over. “Steady on, Coz. Look at this carefully first before you go charging in.”

“Your light—hold it up so they know you’ve come.”

“All right, but I’ll remind you they might want to blow my head off.”

“I don’t think so . . . yes, that’s it! That’s stirred them, they’re moving about, pointing up at us.”

“They’ll recognize you.”

“Hardly—all they can see is your light and perhaps some silhouettes, y’know. That’s why she wanted us to carry lanterns. Hah! One of ’em has a dark lantern; he’s opening it—”

“Yes, I see it swinging, a signal for me I suppose. Hope to God it is them and not a pack of smugglers going at cross purposes with us.”

The others came up with Elizabeth in the lead. “Is it Richard? Is it?”

Oliver looked over his shoulder. “I can’t see him, but Jonathan can. Stay back now.”

“Is he all right?”

“He’s too far away to tell,” I answered. “It’s diabolic. You throw them the money, then by the time you find a way down the cliff to get to Richard they’re on their ship and heading for France.”

“If they leave him behind,” she said, putting into words one of my countless fears.

“They will, whether they’ve planned it or not.”

“What are you thinking?”

“That they’ll be feeling safe from attack thinking none of us can get down this cliff. The last thing they’ll expect is for someone to turn up in their midst and take him away. I’ll be on them and out before they know what’s happened.”

“You’ll be . . . but it’s too danger—oh! Never mind. None safer here than you and Nora.”

“True, but I will be careful, dear Sister, if you’ll do the same for me.”

“Gladly, but for God’s sake tell us what you’re planning.”

My brain fairly hummed with ideas now that I had a definite and visible goal to go after. “Oliver, I’ll want you to shout at them and get them to come closer to the foot of the cliff. Say that you’ve got the money and for them to be ready when you throw it down, but instead of the money, I want you to fill the pouch with the rocks from the cairn.”

He grinned. “They won’t like that.”

“Indeed. But if, God forbid, things go wrong, we may still bargain with them. I want all their attention on you. Distract them as much as you can, get their hopes up—it will be that much more of a frustration to them when they find their treasure is a false one.”

“But won’t it further endanger Richard?”

“No, because by then I’ll have him. You keep them busy for as long as you can and give me the time to slip in close and get to him.”

“But Clarinda will have them on you first thing.”

“No doubt, but after ten paces they won’t know me from the rest of the shadows. This darkness is in my favor; I’ll be able to run where they can only stumble. The lot of you need to have your pistols ready. A few shots and—”

Oliver shook his head, outraged. “And chance shooting you or the boy? I think not! We can’t see a bloody thing from up here and could hit one of you by accident.”

“I’ll direct your fire,” said Nora. She looked at me. “I assume you want them busy ducking while you get away, because it’s not likely we’ll any of us be able to hit someone on purpose under these circumstances.”

“Exactly, a few shots straight down the cliff should be enough to send them scurrying for their boat, though I’d be well pleased if you should happen to drop one or two of ’em by accident. Once you see me get Richard, you open up and distract them from pursuit. If they were fools enough to give us the high ground, then we’d be fools not to use it. If they shoot back, with the distance and the dark you should be fairly safe, but keep your heads low, and be sure to put out the lanterns. Right, then.”

My sudden energy to act was contagious. Jericho and Oliver hurried to the coach to get the pistols and powder. Elizabeth began putting rocks into the pouch.

With a hand on my arm, Nora stayed me from helping. “Remember he won’t vanish with you. You won’t be able to bring him up the cliff in the same manner of travel you’ll use to descend.”

Damnation, but I wouldn’t. “Then I’ll make for that village in the note. Leave the riding horses here and send your driver ahead with the coach. You can catch up with us later.”

“Very well—but Jonathan, the shooting. If one of their pistol balls should hit you while you’re holding the boy . . . it will go right through you to him. You’re taking an appalling risk with his life.”

And did I not clearly know it? “For all I know he might already be dead.” I pointed to Tyne’s partially uncovered corpse. “But if alive I’m ready to do anything to get him away from those monsters. I’ll take that chance rather than leave him with them.”

Her hand tightened, then fell away, and she said nothing more. When all was ready, I gave my sword stick and Dublin revolver into Elizabeth’s keeping, knowing they would only be a hindrance. “You should at least have the pistol,” she protested.

“It takes two hands to bring a new chamber to bear on the thing, and I’ll need both to carry Richard.”

“Then God go with you, little brother.”

I saw her prayer echoed in the faces of the others and suddenly felt a wash of fear. Not for myself, but for my helpless son. What if my actions brought him harm instead of deliverance? What if, God forbid, I got him killed? If I truly wished for his safety would it not be better to let him go? My brave words to Nora seemed but a hollow pretension. Clarinda could not possibly be so heartless as to hurt her own child. Surely some of the worry for him she’d expressed to me had had some tiny seed of sincerity within. The sensible thing would be to give her the money and hope for the best. It was entirely reasonable, much more preferable than the wild, perilous, half-thought-through plan I’d just improvised.

Much more preferable, but for the voice within telling me—all but screaming at me—to ignore sense and let my heart lead in this matter. Against all reason it cried alone. Undeniable, my instinct told me this was the right thing to do, the one thing I
had
to do.

But that did not make me any less afraid.

* * *

Confidence is an intensely ephemeral quality, flooding you fit to burst one instant and miles away the next, leaving you dry and gasping in the emptiness. I was wretchedly parched by the time I’d eased my invisible way down the cliff face to re-form and crouch immobile in a jumble of water-smoothed rock.

Oliver was already calling down from his now distant perch. He couldn’t keep them occupied forever while I wavered between sense and folly. Perhaps in a distant corner of my mind I’d anticipated this hesitation, and that’s why the pouch was filled with rock, not money. For then against its discovery would I be forced to take swift action.

But no matter the reasons—the time had come. Working or not, my heart had taken up lodging high in my throat, and I wasted precious moments trying to swallow it back into place.