Runaway (28 page)

I nodded dumbly. ‘I couldn’t believe it. But there was this … ’ I paused, drew the leather pouch from my shirt, and shook the ring out. Henry sighed when he saw it. ‘I’m so relieved to see that ring safe!’ he said. He picked it up and showed me the engraving on the inside: ASL. ‘Andrew Stephen Lawrence,’ he said.

‘I wondered, when I realized the design was the Rutherford crest, whether he had stolen it,’ I admitted.

‘Far from it. This will be your proof, along with these papers, of who you are.’

‘Did he ever regret it, Henry?’ I asked. ‘Leaving all that wealth?’

‘Never. Your mother was a wonderful woman. I was a junior stable-hand at the time it all happened, as you’ve just been. I accompanied your father when he ran off. Andrew and I joined the Army together and became close friends. Emily joined us later, just before we set sail for France and later she came with us to America. I’m his witness, if you like, and now yours, having watched you and your brother grow up. My elder brother still works at Deerhurst and will know me, even after all these years. You know Bridges, you mentioned him earlier.’

I gasped with shock. ‘He’s your brother? You don’t look much alike! So your surname is false too?’

Henry smiled. ‘He is. And it is. You see, it was your father’s intention to claim his inheritance. He said it was all very well remaining far away and obscure while his dear Emily was alive; he wouldn’t have his family shame him by refusing to acknowledge her or treat her with proper respect. But when she died, he returned for your sake and for your brother’s. He told me you shouldn’t be poor, when a whole estate would one day be rightfully his.’

‘We consulted a lawyer in Portsmouth on our return. I thought from the beginning that he should go straight home. But he wouldn’t; too proud, or too unsure of his father’s reaction. A bit of both perhaps. Instead, he wrote him a letter. Then I took up the post here while he went to London to await a response from his father. And then something must have gone terribly wrong. I confess I’ve been worried sick, hearing nothing from him and seeing nothing in the papers.’

‘Do you think his murder is connected to the inheritance? That someone wished to prevent him from making his claim as the rightful heir?’ I asked sadly.

‘It looks uncommonly like it, doesn’t it?’

‘But who … ?’

‘I’ve not the faintest idea,’ Henry admitted.

‘The murderer was in league with the magistrate. I saw them, Henry.
I saw them talking together!
Later, when I saw that same magistrate walk up to the house at Deerhurst, I fled. He was welcomed by Lawrence and Lord Rutherford and taken inside. I was so afraid! I didn’t understand
what
was going on. He was transacting some business for them. Could that have been murder?’

‘It seems unlikely that they are both in it together. Perhaps the business is unconnected with the claim,’ said Henry.

I sat, puzzling. ‘Lord Rutherford could well have plotted against his own son. He’s evil enough for anything, Henry! He wished to shoot Belle just because his granddaughter complained of her!’

‘That’s bad, Charlie, but it’s a big step from there to having your own son murdered in cold blood! No, I don’t see his motive. They were estranged, he and your father, it’s true. They didn’t agree about his choice of bride. He was an autocratic, fierce man, but I never knew him to be evil.’

I rested my chin in my hand, frowning. I could see his point.

‘What about Miss Judith’s father?’ Henry asked me. ‘He would have a great deal to lose from his elder brother’s return.’

I shook my head. ‘No. He’s dead and Miss Judith has no brothers.’

‘Then who … ?’

‘No. Oh, no,’ I whispered, a cold, sick feeling knotting itself around my stomach. ‘No, it cannot be … ’ But it wasn’t the first time I’d been suspicious.

‘Who is the heir now, Charlie, aside from your brother? Bear in mind nothing may yet be known of his existence. The person who killed Andrew may have no idea he had a son.’

I swallowed hard, dread flooding me. ‘Mr John Lawrence is the heir,’ I said. ‘He’s related to Lord Rutherford and is also his steward. He lives with the family and is next in line, though he’s only a fairly distant relative. He told me so himself.’

Henry sat back in his chair. ‘Then there you have it,’ he said. ‘The perfect motive.’

I remembered seeing Lawrence greet him.
Good to see you,
he’d said. Was it possible that Lawrence had ordered the death of my father? The thought that this might be true filled me with horror. If it were true, the man I’d fallen in love with had been my enemy all along.

Henry and I argued back and forth all that day and the following one about what we should do. He wished to find a magistrate who would be willing to serve a writ and arrest Lawrence on suspicion of murder.

I fell silent when he urged this course of action, but wouldn’t tell him why. The words stuck in my throat. ‘The magistrate in London had been bought,’ I said at last, when I had enough control to speak. ‘Who is to say any other we go to won’t be bribed just the same, once the plotters discover what we are attempting? We could be putting ourselves in mortal danger.’

‘It’s not likely, Miss Charlotte,’ said Henry uncertainly.

‘It’s more than likely! These are powerful people.’ I sighed in frustration.’ They are wealthy, influential! And who are we? A riding officer and a stable hand! What chance do we have of being believed against men who own half a county?’

‘I take your point,’ Henry said reluctantly. ‘However, you’re forgetting the papers, and the fact I knew your father. That makes you as important as them.’

‘No, it doesn’t!’ I cried. ‘It makes my brother Robert a claimant with a case still to prove. And we’ve no money to buy anyone’s services.’

Henry sighed heavily, but didn’t want to give up.

‘The papers will do us no good if we’re dead and they are stolen, Henry! That was the plan, you know. What’s to stop it succeeding another time?’

Henry took a turn about the room. ‘So how about this,’ he began, and I knew what was coming, for I had heard this before. ‘We ride straight up to the house and confront the old man. Tell him who we are. Call Bridges in to identify me.’

I shook my head, my throat tight. ‘If he doesn’t believe us, we are no further on, except we have put ourselves into danger. We cannot be sure he’d care about my father’s fate. They were estranged.’

‘But Miss Charlotte!’ Henry exploded. ‘You cannot just remain here and do nothing!’

‘Oh yes, I can,’ I said sadly. My feelings were too complex and tangled to explain. If it were true that I was granddaughter to Lord Rutherford, then I was well-born enough to marry Lawrence after all. But if he were guilty of ordering my father’s murder, I wouldn’t want to.

‘We must wait for your brother to return,’ said Henry with another heavy sigh.

‘Even my brother returning doesn’t solve anything,’ I pointed out. ‘Lord Rutherford may refuse to acknowledge us. He may live twenty more years! And while we wait, if it really is Lawrence who seeks to remove us from his path,’ I paused, choking on the words, ‘then he has every opportunity to do away with us!’

Henry fell silent.

‘To tell the truth,’ I told him, ‘I don’t care about inheriting or my “rightful place”, or any of that balderdash. Being wealthy doesn’t seem to have made any of the family happy. The whole lot of them are horrible people! I’d rather stay with you and Belle and earn my bread myself somehow. Perhaps we should even go back to America with Robert and stay far away from it all.’

‘But someone took your father’s life. It’s not right that we leave his murder unsolved, Charlie.’

I couldn’t argue with that, so I went out to check Belle. She was completely well now, eyes bright and coat glossy. She was enjoying the company of Cloud and all the attention she got from me now that I had no other work to do.

The following evening Henry went out as normal, leaving me alone in the cottage. ‘I shall go to the post office and see if there’s news from your brother before I begin my patrol,’ he promised me.

Before darkness fell, I went out to the paddock to see Belle and then walked back along the cliff path. The sea crashed on the rocks below my feet and white horses rode upon the waves. The wind whipped through my hair, and I thought how much longer it had already grown. Not long enough to be a presentable girl yet, but approaching it.

Back at the cottage, sitting by the fire in the kitchen, I must have dozed a little. When I jerked suddenly awake, disturbed by some noise or other, the kitchen was in darkness. I bent and woke the fire, stirring the embers and adding another log. I lit a tallow candle and noticed a sheet of paper lying on the flagstones by the front door.

Thinking it must be a message for Henry, I went to pick it up. The candlelight fell on the paper, and I was shocked to see that it wasn’t addressed to Henry. Instead, the name scrawled across it was
Charlotte Smith
. The sight of those words sent a chill of fear through me. How did anyone know I was here?

I opened the note and tilted it towards the candlelight. The wind whistling through the gap under the door made the flame flicker and dance, casting shadows on the page.

Bring me the Papers.

Come Alone or the Horse dies.

South Beach in One Hour.

My scalp tingled with horror. Had he taken Belle?

I raced out of the cottage into the darkness and along the lane to Cloud’s field. The gate was open and the field was empty. ‘Belle!’ I shouted desperately, running into the field and straining my eyes to look into every corner in the darkness. ‘Belle, where are you?’

There was no friendly whinny, no elegant bay mare trotting out of the shadows to greet me. Feeling sick, I ran back to the cottage as fast as I could. Still gasping for breath, I scanned the scrawl again.

I’d eluded the killer for months, but now my luck had run out. But if there was any chance Belle was still alive, I needed to do as I was told. Perhaps if the man got the papers, he would leave us both unhurt. I could plead with him. The slender chance of an unwanted inheritance didn’t seem to me to be worth Belle’s life. Nor was it worth a lifetime of running and hiding in fear. I would let the papers go.

Taking the candle, I ran up to the tiny bedroom in Henry’s cottage where I slept, lifted my mattress and retrieved the papers and the leather pouch I’d hidden beneath it. They were all in one place now, both those that I had carried with me for so long and the ones Henry had kept safe for me. The note hadn’t mentioned the ring. It was possible the murderer didn’t know of its existence. I shook it out of the pouch into the palm of my hand.

Downstairs, I pulled a lace from Henry’s second-best boots and threaded the ring onto it, tying it securely around my neck inside my shirt. This ring, at least, I would keep safe. The note I left lying on the kitchen table for Henry to see, in case anything happened to me. Blowing out the candle, I tucked the papers into my shirt, pulled my cloak around me and stepped out into the night.

The wind buffeted me as I strode quickly east along the path that led to South Beach. Clouds covered the moon, and I found my way with difficulty in the darkness, staying away from the cliff edge until the land dropped towards the beach.

A long, dark path led through a wooded hollow to the sea. I stumbled blindly along it, cursing that I’d not thought to bring a lantern.

I could orientate myself better once I stepped out onto the sandy beach itself. At first, I could see no one; the beach appeared deserted. Black waves crashed onto the sand and what light there was from the overcast moon glowed on the surface of the water. I picked my way cautiously along the shore. I saw a brief flash of a lantern ahead. Was it the man I’d come to meet? Or a party of smugglers? Henry had warned me that they could be extremely dangerous if seen at their work. But I would almost rather face a gang of cut-throat free traders than the man who had murdered my father and was now holding my horse to ransom.

‘Stop there!’ a voice called out suddenly to my left. I froze. A beam of light flashed out of the darkness, dazzled me for a moment, and then was shuttered, leaving us in near-darkness. ‘Have you got them?’