Penelope Goes to Portsmouth (11 page)

‘Take a good few hours. And what do I tell them? They’ll want to know if it is a killing matter.’

‘Accidental drowning is what I am after. The sad fact is that Lord Augustus can probably swim like a fish, but he can’t rescue all of them. He’ll go for the beauty. The Pym woman is the one I want drowned like a rat.’

Mr Fotheringay’s swinging foot paused in mid-air. He examined his buckled shoe carefully and then said
in a neutral voice, ‘Have you ever thought, Auntie, that you could save yourself a great deal of time and trouble by leaving them all alone? And what if the Pym female does drown? Won’t that return to plague your conscience in the dark watches of the night?’

‘Do not be stupid, John. If I let her go unscathed,
that
is what will haunt my dreams.’

‘Well, you do believe in long-range murder. What did you plan to do with that footman if they hadn’t rescued him?’

‘Keep him until he’d had enough of a fright and then turn him loose.’

‘I do not believe that for one moment,’ said her nephew, who was allowed all the licence of a sort of court jester. ‘The fellow would have run to the nearest justice and reported you.’

She shrugged her white shoulders. ‘I would have denied it and so would all my servants. Besides, he cannot talk. Off with you, and get some clever silent type of smugglers, not some drunks who will promise all tonight and forget what they have promised on the morrow.’

The only people who found it hard to find smugglers were the excisemen. Members of the public who wanted some duty-free brandy or lace, coffee or tea found it amazingly easy. Mr Fotheringay simply went downstairs and buttonholed a waiter, slipped him a crown, and said he was looking for a fairly large consignment of brandy, and then winked. The waiter told him to ask at an inn called the Green Tree, down near the harbour. Mr Fotheringay
repaired there, pushed open the door and walked in. He was accustomed to frequenting low taverns and knew as soon as he had walked over the threshold that he was in the right place. He bluntly asked the sleazy individual who was serving in the tap where he might find someone who could supply him with French brandy. The man said nothing. Mr Fotheringay cheerfully handed him a sovereign, ordered a glass of rum and hot water, and retreated to a corner of the room to wait.

An hour and several rums later Mr Fotheringay felt a large presence looming over him. A huge man in rough clothes was standing there, studying him. He sat down opposite Mr Fotheringay and said in a low voice, ‘How much brandy?’

‘None at all,’ replied Mr Fotheringay happily, but the smile died on his face as he felt the prick of a knife against the back of his neck and realized the large man’s companion was standing behind him. ‘I mean,’ he went on rapidly, ‘I have an offer for you which will mean you earning a great deal of money.’

‘That’s more like it,’ said the large man. ‘Let’s do the pretty and introduce ourselves all round. This here, behind you, is Ben, and I’m Josiah.’

‘How friendly,’ said Mr Fotheringay with a nervous titter. ‘You may call me John.’

‘Right, John.’ Josiah leaned close to him. ‘Out with it.’

So Mr Fotheringay explained that they were to locate a party who would be taking a boat out from Croombe on the morrow and they were to capsize that boat. That was all they had to do.

‘It ain’t a killing matter, then,’ said Josiah reflectively.

‘It probably will be, considering how few people there are who can swim,’ said Mr Fotheringay. ‘I want you to meet the lady who wishes this done. She will pay you well but the terms are to be set by her. She cannot come to a low place like this and you cannot go to her home. Where can you meet her where you will be unobserved?’

Josiah scratched the stubble on his chin. ‘There’s a house in Sheep Street, hard by a gin-shop.’

‘Number?’

‘Ain’t got no number. Right o’ the gin-shop. Anyone stops her, she can say she’s meeting Josiah. Got that?’

‘She’ll be there in an hour,’ said Mr Fotheringay, suddenly relieved that his part in the proceedings was over. He turned and looked at Ben, who was cleaning his filthy fingernails with the point of a large knife, and then scuttled off.

To his annoyance, his aunt stated she had no intention of going to Sheep Street on her own and her nephew must accompany her if he wished to see any of her money. She then loaded a brace of pistols, handed one to Mr Fotheringay, and tucked the other inside a large muff.

‘I don’t see why you don’t take one of those villainous servants of yours,’ complained Mr Fotheringay. ‘Old Biggs, for example, looks as if he could slit a throat and think nothing of it.’

‘Biggs is a fool. I have decided it is safer to deal only with you and your villains, John. Lead on!’

The smugglers found it odd doing business with what appeared to be a lady of the quality, although she was so heavily veiled they could not make out much. But she was generous, very generous. They received a bag of gold and were told they would get the other half after they had done what they were being paid to do.

‘That’s that, I think,’ said Lady Carsey as she and her nephew walked away from the dingy Sheep Street.

‘I think they’re the genuine article, Auntie. Does it not bother you that they might take your money and not turn up?’

‘I have dealt with men like that before,’ said Lady Carsey. ‘It’s easy pickings for them. They’ll do it … and so good-bye, Miss Pym!’

Lord Augustus wondered if he had ever really felt so young in his life before. There was such a beautifully carefree air of holiday about the party that assembled at the inn. Mr Cato was to take Hannah and Miss Trenton, and Lord Augustus had hired a light chaise, and, to Mr Wilkins’s overwhelming joy, offered to escort Penelope. Repressing an urge to follow the party, Mr Wilkins went back to his business. His lordship should have plenty of opportunities to propose, and the presence of Penelope’s father might throw cold water on the budding romance.

Penelope was wearing a dark-blue nankeen coat with gold buttons and a white collar. On her curls was a broad-brimmed straw hat. Lord Augustus thought
she looked enchanting. But Penelope was suddenly very shy of him and could not find anything to say.

‘Beautiful day, is it not?’ asked Lord Augustus.

‘Yes,’ said Penelope.

‘I suppose you are used to the sea and boats?’

‘No.’

‘Can you swim?’

‘No.’

Lord Augustus laughed. ‘You are not very nautical, Miss Wilkins, but you
are
monosyllabic. Do try to say more than one word.’

‘I prefer to admire the view.’

They were bowling along one of Portsmouth’s filthier streets where barefoot urchins played in the kennel and slatternly women lounged in doorways smoking clay pipes.

‘Marvellous, is it not?’ drawled Lord Augustus.

‘I cannot be chattering all the time,’ said Penelope. She was becoming irritated with him, because her body was aching in a strange way and something happened to her breathing every time his arm brushed against her own.

‘Then I shall chatter for us both,’ said Lord Augustus. ‘You have all reformed me. I am determined to do something with my life.’

‘And what is that?’ asked Penelope.

‘Well, for one thing, we are still at war and I am an able-bodied man doing nothing about it.’

‘Were you in the army?’

‘Yes, my chuck. Flanders and India.’

‘And you did not like it?’

‘No, but Flanders was a disaster and India gruelling. But at least I was doing something. Think, child, if all the men in Britain were like me, we would be overrun by Napoleon’s troops in no time at all. Despite my good intentions, I might borrow money from my uncle after all and buy myself a commission.’

So he did not plan marriage, thought Penelope dismally, and yet why should she expect him to? It was all her father’s fault, thought Penelope a trifle illogically. Mr Wilkins should have stuck to his principles and not have put ideas about marrying lords into her head.

‘But when did you suddenly decide to re-enlist?’

‘It is your fault, Miss Wilkins. You and Miss Pym. Between you, you have contrived to make me feel utterly worthless.’

‘But it is in the nature of your class to be utterly worthless.’

Lord Augustus grinned. ‘Not all of us, my sweet Radical. Faith! It is a perfect day for Miss Pym’s outing.’

They had left the town and were travelling along a road by the shore. There was not a cloud in the sky. A brisk breeze was blowing.

‘How odd,’ said Penelope. ‘The sky is so blue and yet the water is black. Why is that?’

‘A trick of the light? Who knows?’

Lord Abernethy rose late and went up to his crow’s nest at the top of his house. Although a wealthy man, it suited him to live in the centre of the town rather
than in splendid isolation in some estate in the country. He loved to watch the ships coming and going through his telescope. He did hope his nephew was not going to make a fool of himself over the Wilkinses’ chit, but decided he could easily put a stop to it by talking some sense into Mr Wilkins’s head.

After a light breakfast of dry toast and weak tea, he settled down at the window and turned the telescope on the harbour. The room was so high up that he could look down over the roofs of the other houses.

He studied the glaring blue of the sky, the blackness of the water, and then felt a sharp rheumatic pain in his hip. He got up and went to a barometer on the wall and tapped it. The needle was slipping towards ‘Stormy’. He gave an exclamation under his breath. Those fools, land-lubbers all, would probably put to sea not knowing the weather was about to make an abrupt and horrible change.

He opened the door and called, ‘Mary!’ and his little housemaid came running lightly up the stairs. The admiral kept few servants and all of them were women.

‘Run round to the livery stables and get me a carriage, Mary,’ said Lord Abernethy. ‘And be quick about it. A fast-travelling carriage and a good pair of fifteen-mile-an-hour tits, and damn the expense!’

Mr Cato, who had already travelled to Croombe that morning, had hired a rowing-boat, which was resting at the foot of the jetty steps. The owner of the boat, a gnarled little fisherman, was pacing up and down.

‘Reckon you shouldn’t go out,’ he said, looking anxiously at the blue sky. ‘Nasty weather coming.’

‘We are only going out a little way,’ said Mr Cato.

The owner was reluctant to cancel the hire and so lose the generous sum Mr Cato had paid him.

‘I’d be quick about it then,’ he said, capitulating. ‘But don’t go out to the open sea.’

The party of land-lubbers cheerfully walked down the jetty steps and arranged themselves in the bobbing boat, Miss Trenton and Miss Pym in the stern, Penelope and Lord Augustus in the bow, and Mr Cato in the middle at the oars. Benjamin had been given the day off.

Mr Cato pushed off with one oar and then sat down and began to row smoothly. Lord Augustus reflected that Mr Cato was a surprisingly powerful man.

‘Done much of this?’ he called.

‘Only on nice calm rivers,’ shouted Mr Cato, ‘but it’s all the same thing.’

Hannah was quite dizzy with excitement. The slapping of the waves against the boat, the salt wind in her face exalted her. She felt like the veriest mariner of England.

Penelope sat next to Lord Augustus, her thigh against his thigh, and fought with a tumult of emotions. It could not be love, she thought. Love was something sweet and spiritual.

‘Are we not going a little too far out?’ called Lord Augustus.

‘Oh, further!’ shouted Hannah, her eyes flashing green. ‘What power Mr Cato has.’

‘Oh, yes,’ agreed Miss Trenton, fighting gamely with seasickness but determined not to be outdone by Hannah when it came to compliments. ‘You must be made of iron, Mr Cato.’

Mr Cato had a slight uneasy feeling that their rapid progress out to the open sea might be caused by a current, but the ladies’ compliments went right to his head and he rowed the harder.

Hannah looked up at the sky in surprise. One minute it had been bright blue, as blue as the eyes of Sir George Clarence and just as sparkling, and the next it was a milky colour that was rapidly becoming grey.

They shot out past the long arm of the harbour and into the open sea. Penelope screamed as a wave curled over the bow of the boat and soaked her to the skin.

‘Better turn back,’ shouted Lord Augustus as the boat began to crawl up one large wave and then plunge down into a black trough of swirling water below another.

Mr Cato tried to bring the boat about. Another wave crashed over the side of the boat this time and Miss Trenton let out a high thin wail of terror.

‘I’m caught in a current,’ said Mr Cato.

Lord Augustus crawled forward and took a seat next to Mr Cato. ‘Give me an oar,’ he said. ‘Between us, we’ll make it. Stop screaming, ladies, and bail.’

Penelope and Hannah found a couple of pannikins and bailed for all they were worth. Miss Trenton sat in the stern praying loudly.

‘We’ll row to the left first,’ said Lord Augustus to Mr Cato, ‘and keep rowing until we get out of the grip of this current.’

Both men rowed as hard as they could while the waves crashed and tumbled into the boat and even the redoubtable Miss Pym was turning quite white.

‘Now!’ shouted Lord Augustus. ‘Pull for the shore.’

They rowed hard, the going easier now. ‘We’re well away from the harbour,’ said Lord Augustus. ‘We make for the shore.’

‘Thank God!’ cried Hannah suddenly. ‘Someone is coming to our aid.’ Mr Cato and Lord Augustus rested on the oars and looked. A large rowing-boat with two powerful men in it was speeding straight towards them. ‘Keep bailing,’ ordered Mr Cato. ‘It might be safer to let them take us on board. They’ve got a bigger boat.’

On and on came the other boat, at times almost hidden by the mounting waves, and then it appeared to come hurtling down on them from the crest of a high black wave and rammed them amidships with a sickening thwack. With amazing dexterity considering the height of the sea that was running, the two men turned their boat and headed for the shore. Not once had they even looked at the people in the boat they had just holed.