Salting the Wound (12 page)

The gypsy detained him with a hand on his arm. ‘Listen to your instinct, soldier. Miss Marianne won’t be harmed, but she’ll come back, changed.’

She was talking nonsense. ‘Sorry, I haven’t got time to listen to this, Jessica. If you see my sister-in-law tell her that Charlotte is worried sick, and she’s to go straight home.’

Seth pushed past her and picked up speed. He’d gone several yards when there was a whisper against his ear, as if the gypsy was right next to him. ‘Beware, soldier, there’s a hunter with a cage behind you.’

He slewed around, his hand reaching for his pistol, and goose bumps crackling on his body. There was nothing behind him except the track. Even the gypsy had somehow blended into the landscape.

A hunter with a cage, she’d said. What the devil had the woman been talking about?

For a moment the sun faded, as though the molten gold light of morning had become tarnished. The air grew quiet and menacing, the water in the harbour was still. Then a seagull screamed, and the day brightened again.

Giving a little shiver Seth continued on his way. Finding Marianne seemed a little less urgent now.

C
olonel Hardy’s trail hadn’t been too hard to follow. He’d disembarked from his ship in London three years previously, had travelled to Edinburgh then moved into the house left to him by his mother’s cousin until probate had been finalized. In fact, Hardy still owned the house, though it was now leased out to the family of a minister of the church, who was negotiating a purchase price.

From there, Adam Chapman was guided toward the solicitor who’d acted on Seth’s behalf in the matter, and who had administered his relative’s will.

Alistair Matheson gazed at Adam’s card, then at the young man himself. A pair of sharp grey eyes met his. ‘A detecting agency, is it? What exactly is your business with me?’

‘I’m looking for a gentleman who goes under the name of Seth Hardy, former army Colonel. I’m given to understand that he’s a client of yours.’

‘Are you, then.’ The solicitor tapped the card on the desk. ‘I’m afraid I cannot help you.’

‘Cannot, or will not?’

‘My dear Mr . . .’ and he gazed at the card. ‘Chapman? Will not, because I have no proof that you are who you say you are – whom you are working for, or why you are working for them. And cannot, because of ethical considerations. My client’s business is his own. No solicitor worth his salt would hand over information that should be properly kept confidential.’

‘Even when that client has broken the law?’

‘In what way has Colonel Hardy broken the law, sir?’

‘It concerns a child, one John Charles Barrie, who he took into his care without the permission of the child’s grandfather. You may have seen the notice I placed in the papers inquiring on his whereabouts.’

‘I’m afraid not.’

Adam took a letter of introduction from his satchel and laid it on the desk. ‘I’m representing Justice Sir Charles Barrie in this matter, who is the boy’s grandfather and his only blood kin. The boy is also his heir.’

Shock came into the solicitor’s eyes. ‘Is there a warrant out for the Colonel’s arrest? If there is that will be a different matter altogether.’

‘No, sir, there is not. Judge Barrie is concerned that the man might flee abroad with the boy, should he get wind of the search.’

‘And if he sees the notices.’

‘That’s a risk we had to take, in the hope that the offer of a reward will prove to be effective.’

‘A reward, you say. May I ask the sum involved?’

‘It’s a substantial one.’

Opening the letter Alistair Matheson scrutinized it, drumming his fingers on the desk. The smile he gave was shrewd. ‘I’d like to confer with a colleague on this matter. Can you return next week, Mr Chapman?’

‘I’m afraid not. I have another line of enquiry to pursue and I depart tomorrow.’

Matheson wasn’t easily fooled. He raised an eyebrow, said, ‘Another line of enquiry, is it? I wish you luck with it, sir. May I enquire what that line is?’

An out and out lie was sometimes justified. ‘I have the address of someone Colonel Hardy soldiered with. They returned to England on the same ship.’

‘Ah, I see.’ The old man gave a faint smile. ‘I have to say that I never saw the Colonel with a young boy, and neither did he mention one. Our relationship was one of business, and I found the man to be a little standoffish, if truth be told. I had very little to do with him, in fact, and he discouraged personal interaction between us.’

Something that rankled by the sound of it, Adam thought.

‘I was friendly with his mother’s cousin. We grew up together, so the Colonel’s attitude towards me was rather surprising. His relative always talked fondly of the young man, and he fully expected him to sell the Edinburgh house and return to the English county where he was born and grew up. That has proved to be the case.’

‘Which is where?’

‘That I have yet to inform you of. Exactly how much did you say the reward was worth?’

Adam wrote a number on the solicitor’s blotting pad, an indication of the reward offered for information received.

Matheson nodded, then took a card from his desk and placed it face down. He kept his finger on the card as he slid it gently across the polished surface of the desk. ‘The address.’

He released it when Adam took a packet from his pocket and handed it to him. Adam sat patiently while the man counted the contents.

‘All seems satisfactory.’ The solicitor consulted his gold watch then looked up at him. ‘If there’s nothing else, good day to you, Mr Chapman.’

Adam didn’t as much as flicker an eyelid as he was dismissed. He had no reason to linger, even if he’d liked the company he’d found himself in, which he didn’t. Standing on the pavement outside the building he patted his other pocket. The information had only cost half of what he’d expected.

He gazed up at the castle looming over the city, and beyond that, the lowering sky that had begun to turn the remaining daylight to a leaden grey. He sniffed the air and smiled. Edinburgh smelled like rain. Indeed, the first heavy drop plopped on his face, quickly followed by another.

Upping his umbrella he headed down Princes Street to where his hotel was situated, a leisurely fifteen-minute walk from Leith Harbour. From there he intended to book a passage round the coast to Southampton – or on to Poole if he was lucky. He was in no hurry to repeat the interminable train journey.

His present case was interesting. Normally Adam wouldn’t consider the objects of his searches as anything more than felons, and invariably they were. But he couldn’t help wondering why a respectable law-abiding former army officer with means would lay himself open to a charge of child stealing . . . unless he was the father of the boy, a possibility that had occurred to Adam before. Or perhaps the soldier had a certain behavioural weakness. Adam frowned at the thought. First he must make sure that the boy was living with Colonel Hardy, then he would judge what that relationship was. He’d rather take his client some encouraging news.

Adam arrived in Poole three days later. It was a compact town with bracing air and a colourful history of fishing and smuggling. The harbour was large, but pretty, with an island in the middle of it. The quay, which was a tangle of ships and masts bustled with activity, and supported the Guildhall with its elegant curving staircases at either side. The countryside surrounding the town was tinted with the shades of autumn and the climate was much more temperate after chilly Edinburgh.

He sought directions to Harbour House of a fisherman who was mending his nets, and who introduced himself as Rob.

Rob pointed. ‘The heath be in that direction, Mister. You can’t miss Harbour House, it be the only house there for miles. Used to belong to smugglers.’

‘Do you know who lives there now?’

‘Can’t rightly say. Used to be the Honeyman family. But someone married into the family. I can row you there for a shilling. All you’ll need to do is step ashore.’

The last thing Adam wanted was to step ashore on a deserted part of the heath, where he’d be conspicuous.’

‘Thank you, but no. I don’t intend to visit today. Is there anywhere I can hire a dinghy for tomorrow?’

‘I reckon there is, at that. You can take that there old dinghy of mine. She’s seaworthy enough for your purpose, but don’t go out beyond the island. Five shillin’ for the day. Do you reckon you have enough strength in your arms to row her?’

Adam grinned. ‘I’m not quite as useless as I look. Nor am I stupid. Let’s make that three shillings, I’ve already checked on the tides and will be here at ten.’

The fisherman looked surprised. ‘Done. A deposit would be a sign of goodwill.’ The fisherman’s face puckered into wrinkles as he palmed the shilling Adam offered and slipped it into his pocket. He cackled before he went back to his mending.

The next day Adam used the tide to manoeuvre himself into the required position without too much effort. There was a cold breeze blowing off the water and he wore the fishy smelling windproof sou’wester and jacket the fisherman had offered him for an extra sixpence. If nothing else, it was a good disguise. Opening his bag he allowed the dinghy to drift, oaring it back into position every now and again. Then, making sure he wasn’t observed, he took out a telescope and trained it on the house.

An hour later someone came in a gig. He carried a doctor’s bag. The maid let him in. Adam saw him at an upstairs window a couple of times, and he came out fifteen minutes later, turned his vehicle round and headed back towards town.

Nothing was moving, and a lazy scribble of smoke rose from the chimneys. Taking out a sketching block, which was a good thing to have when carrying out surveillance work, he made a quick sketch of the house in its setting, admiring its solid lines. He was a competent artist. He was even better at detecting. He liked the hunt.

The sky was a seamless, even grey, with patches of blue. The wind lifted a haze from the surface of the water. He hunched into his smelly jacket, then glanced at his watch. Another hour had passed. He took an apple from his bag and bit into it, savouring the tart juice against his tongue. When he’d finished munching the fruit, he placed the glass against his eye again.

To his left a man appeared. He had an upright bearing as he strode along the path, his arms swinging. Adam knew a trained soldier when he saw one, and he certainly matched the description the Scottish minister had given him. But there was no boy with him. The man went into the house. He saw him come into the upstairs window, and for a moment he seemed to be staring straight at him. Then he stooped, and straightened, cradling a bundle in his arms. A baby! The man had a family. Considering the doctor’s visit to the same room and the size of the bundle it was a fairly recent event. If there was a boy living there, he was most likely at a dame school.

Adam hesitated for a moment. What if he’d got the wrong man? It would be needless cruelty to get his client’s hopes up. But he had to make sure.

He turned and rowed back towards the quay, relishing the task he was giving his back and arm muscles. The sun was directly overhead. By the time he’d got the dinghy back to its owner and had settled up, two hours had passed. The fisherman was leaning against his boat, puffing on his pipe. ‘You didn’t sink her, then.’ He cackled at his own joke.

‘And neither did I get stuck in the mud. Is there a school hereabouts?’

‘It’s up the road a way. It’s owned and run by the merchants for their own children. Verger’s wife runs a dame school for the poor. Then there’s the grammar school for older boys. Thinking of moving your family here, are you? It’s no good looking at Harbour House. It’s been in the hands of the Honeyman family since it were an inn. The old man were in debt to a sea captain when he died, but the eldest daughter, Charlotte her name is, refused to move out. Said she’d shoot his ratty Thornton eyes out if he tried to evict them. ’Tis said she married the man who bought the clay pits, so she could stay there.’

The man’s breath smelled of ale, which had obviously loosened his tongue. Adam let the fisherman ramble on.

‘Year ago I recall it was. I hear tell she gave birth to twin babbies a week or so ago.’

‘Twins?’

The man straightened up. ‘If you want to keep women from interfering in men’s business keep them pregnant, I say. I do hear that the younger girl has run off. Saw her myself, going aboard the
Samarand
. Pretty as a picture, she was.’ He touched his hat. ‘It’s been right nice talking to you, sir. I’d best get off home to my woman. She do nag if I’m late home.’

The fisherman deserved a reward for the information, and Adam dropped a couple of florins into his hand. ‘You’ve been most helpful. Here, buy your wife a ribbon or two for her bonnet.’

Staring at the coins in astonishment, Rob murmured. ‘Thank you kindly, young sir.’

Adam made his way to the most likely of the schools, just as the bell was rung. The boys went off in all directions, punching each other and laughing. A couple of them were met by parents, and a bunch of four boys were chattering and laughing together, pushing and shoving at each other in the way boys did. He took up station in a handily placed lane opposite when a gig arrived, driven by Hardy, who appeared to be a few years his senior.

‘Pa!’ one of the four boys shouted out, then waved and smiled. Seth Hardy jumped down from the cart.

Adam wanted a better look at both of them. He crossed to the opposite side of the road and, pretending to stumble, dropped his bag in front of Hardy and the boy. Pencils and other bits and pieces scattered across the ground.

‘My pardon,’ he said.

Both Hardy and the boy helped him pick the pencils up.

Adam offered a hand to Seth. ‘My thanks.’

‘I’m Seth Hardy . . . this is my son, John Hardy.’

The boy held out his hand, saying politely, ‘How do you do, sir.’

Adam shook it, thinking that the lad looked nothing like Seth Hardy, but he did resemble Charles Barrie to a certain extent, and had the same green hazel eyes. He also had a ready smile, and an easy manner that said he was perfectly at ease with his guardian. ‘I’m very well, young sir, thank you.’