The Path of the Wicked (27 page)

He took another slow drink of brandy. He didn't seem drunk or anywhere near it, so probably it was as customary as coffee for him.

‘Did she just come out with it?'

‘Pretty nearly. I was quite short with her when I found out who she was. I told her I hadn't any money for church hypocrites . . .'

‘You used that word – hypocrites?'

‘Why not? So she'd better get out of the way of the horses and stop wasting my time, I told her. But she stood her ground – I'll say that for her – although she seemed nervous of the horses. And I'll give her credit for plain speaking too because she said to me, in front of the grooms and the boys and all of them, “Don't you want to know that your son wasn't the father of Joanna Picton's child?” I said to her, also in front of all of them, “I knew that already, but thank you for taking the trouble to come and tell me.” She saw I was being sarcastic and some of the men were sniggering at her. Well, I didn't care for that, even if she'd asked for it. So I told them to get on with their work, took her in here and sat her down, just as you're sitting now. And I asked her, just as I asked you, what business it was of hers.'

‘What did she say?'

‘That she knew the girl and was sorry for her. So I asked her how she'd come to the conclusion that my son was the father of the brat in the first place. I said I supposed it was because of what Rodney Kemble had told her after he and Peter nearly came to blows at the races. She blushed a bit at that and wouldn't answer directly, but I knew I was right. I said she shouldn't believe everything she heard, and she looked me in the face and said yes, she'd been wrong, very wrong, and she was going to do her best to make amends for it.'

He took another swallow of brandy.

‘Did she say how?' I said.

‘I didn't give her the chance. I gave her some good advice instead, and it's much the same as I'm giving you now. Don't do anything. When people try to interfere in what other people are doing, it's usually for their own selfish reasons, even when they pretend otherwise. Save men from gambling. Save labourers from drinking. Save pretty girls from being looked at by young lads. Save us all from this and that, but most of the time it's only because they want to be looked up to as great men when they're as miserable sinners as the rest of us, and probably more so. I expected her to come back at me with some preaching, but she didn't. She thanked me for my advice – though I could see from her face she didn't intend to take it – apologized again and wished me good morning.'

‘And that was all?'

‘Pretty nearly. I walked her to the gates because she'd shown a bit of spirit and I didn't want the men making remarks at her. I asked her how she was so sure now that Peter wasn't the father. She said because the Picton girl had told her who it really was.'

‘Did she say who?'

‘No, and I didn't ask her. Not my business.'

‘Isn't justice anybody's business?'

‘I don't set myself up in judgement over people, like some.'

Was this a hit at Mr Godwit and his fellow magistrates? Colum Paley would certainly know I was staying with him.

‘In any case, what difference would it make now? The baby's dead and the girl's transported,' he said.

‘And her brother will soon be on trial for his life.'

‘Serves him right, if half I've heard of that one is true. Want to save him, do you?'

‘I don't want to see an innocent man hanged.'

He sighed. ‘Giving good advice to a woman is like feeding beefsteak to a horse,' he said.

That seemed to be the end of it and I expected him to get up and escort me out, but he didn't.

‘I suppose the Kembles are putting it about that my son has carried their girl off somewhere,' he said.

His voice wasn't so hard now, with something close to a note of appeal in it. I might have information he needed, after all.

‘There's some evidence that Miss Kemble went of her own accord,' I said.

I couldn't see any harm in telling him and I owed no particular loyalty to the Kembles. He nodded as if he'd guessed that.

‘To find Peter, do you think?'

‘I doubt if Miss Kemble would do anything so desperate on her own,' I said. ‘If she went, it means he managed somehow to send a message to her and make the arrangements.'

‘Where do you think he is, then?' he said, looking sidelong at me.

‘I have no notion. Have you?'

He shook his head. ‘When he went like that, I guessed he was going to stay away for long enough to have me worried and then come back expecting me to slaughter the fatted calf for him. But he's been gone more than a month now.'

‘Have you heard anything at all from him?'

He took his time about deciding to answer. ‘Last week, a man came to me who'd found his horse right over west in Herefordshire.'

‘I know the man,' I said. ‘His name's Amos Legge.'

His head came up, surprised.

‘Yes, that's the name. He's honest?'

‘As the day.'

‘That's how he struck me. He reckoned if we followed the trail of the horse back, we'd find out what had happened to Peter.'

‘Yes, that's how he works. Have you seen him since?'

‘No. He said he'd come back to me when there was any news. Then yesterday a note arrived.'

He took a piece of paper, much folded, out of his pocket and handed it to me. The paper was rough and smelled of saddle soap, the words few and direct:

Mr Paley,

To let you know your son is as well as can be expected and being looked after.

Yours with Respect,

A. Legge

‘Is that the man's handwriting?' Paley asked.

‘Yes. Amos Legge beyond a doubt.' I couldn't help smiling because it was so typical of him. ‘Did he deliver it?'

‘No. Somebody who doesn't sound like Legge rode into the yard yesterday, gave it to my training groom and went off before anybody could ask questions. But what does it mean? Is it some kind of kidnap demand?'

‘Amos is no kidnapper. It will mean exactly what it says.'

‘
As well as can be expected
sounds as if something's happened to him. And why didn't Legge just tell me where he is? Does he want money from me?'

‘No. I don't know the reason, but I'm sure there'll be one.'

Amos must have arranged for the note to be delivered when he was in the area collecting Barbara's trunk, but it wasn't my place to tell Colum Paley about that. There'd been a change in his attitude when he found I knew Amos. The hostility had gone, but he was looking at me in a puzzled way, as if revising some of his ideas.

‘How did you come to know him, then?'

I told him only a little of the story, but enough to make his eyes widen. At the end, he laughed and poured brandy into a clean glass.

‘You won't refuse to have a drink with me a second time, will you?'

I sipped. It was good brandy.

‘So, he's found my son but won't say where.'

‘I'm sure he will in his own good time.'

He laughed again. ‘Do you think the girl's with him? It'll be a good joke if the Kembles have to welcome Peter into the family as a brother and son-in-law.'

I thought that Rodney Kemble might have a lot more than that to worry about. But it was an opportunity to get him to talk about what I wanted.

‘Did the bad blood between Rodney Kemble and your son date from the business at the races?'

‘They'd never been great friends. He and his father run some horses in a small way. Young Kemble's not a bad rider but a stickler for the rules – rather win on a technicality than breakneck over the fences. But they'd never been near coming to blows.'

‘But at the fair at the races they did, over Joanna Picton.'

‘Back to that, are we? Lot of nonsense.'

‘But something did happen to Joanna at the races, and your son and his friends were there.'

‘I was there too, so I can tell you exactly what happened. Yes, we were all of us playing a hand of cards and having a drink or two in one of the booths. And yes, there were some wenches there the lads were giving drinks to, taking kisses and so on, and believe me those girls weren't objecting to it – quite the reverse. And yes, one of them was your Joanna girl, though I wouldn't have known her from Eve at the time. They were playing forfeits with the boys and she grabbed Peter's cap and ran out of the booth with it. He ran after her, laughing, to get it back and that was when young Kemble saw them and decided Peter was taking advantage of her. That's as far as it went between Peter and the Picton girl, and if you think a man gets a wench with child just by kissing her, then I'm not going to be the one who tells you otherwise.'

‘Joanna wasn't laughing when she got back to the Kembles' house that evening. She was scared and distressed.'

‘Well, that wasn't Peter's doing or any of his friends'. It wasn't until young Kemble appeared and she knew she'd be in trouble back home that she sobered up and looked worried.'

If this was true, the case was looking black against Rodney Kemble.

‘So did he take Joanna away with him?' I said.

‘He never had the chance. Just as Peter and young Kemble were squaring up to fight, Holy Fanny and the magistrates appear like genies coming out of a bottle and constables start breaking up booths and arresting people right, left and centre.'

‘Not including Rodney Kemble and your son, of course.'

‘No. The constables had more sense than to take on young gentlemen who might be handy with their fists. It was mostly the booth keepers they arrested, and the girls, including the Picton girl.'

‘You're sure of that?'

‘Yes. The constables herded about a dozen of them up together in a wagon. Some were like her, drunken skivvies on a day out, and some were what you might call the professionals from the town, but that didn't make any odds.'

‘What were the women charged with?'

He shrugged. ‘Being drunk in a public place, disorderly conduct, resisting arrest. The magistrates always find some reason when they want to.'

‘Who was giving the orders?'

‘Some high-up from the county constabulary and the chairman of the magistrates, Penbrake, with Holy Fanny and his party cheering them on.'

‘Joanna must have been released,' I said. ‘She was back at her work place that evening. If she'd been up before the magistrates, she'd certainly have been dismissed out of hand.'

A picture was forming. Rodney Kemble finds the family kitchen-maid drunk and disorderly on the racecourse, but before he can drag her home she is arrested. He manages to secure her release, possibly by overawing or bribing a not very bright constable, leaving him with a scared and miserable scullery-maid on his hands. In his eyes, the girl has no reputation worth worrying about. Did he take his reward for freeing her in a very direct and brutal way? If so, she'd have been too scared and miserable to accuse her employer's son. Some threat or promise from him might have kept her silent to the very last. If Mary Marsh had discovered all that, she wouldn't have let things rest. She'd have thought about it for a long time – no hastiness now – and perhaps looked for more evidence, just as I was doing. Then, when she was quite sure of her ground, she'd asked Rodney Kemble to meet her in the glade in the woods. Colum Paley was saying something. I tried to listen.

‘. . . can ask anybody who was there. Half the town will have seen it. I'm not saying my son behaved like a choirboy or even how I'd have liked him to behave. Perhaps I should have stopped what was going on, if I'd paid more attention. What I am saying is if you think he got a child on the girl, then you're wrong. But as I told you, I don't see how it matters now.'

This time he did stand up, discussion over, and escorted me to a loosebox where Rancie was nibbling delicately at a net of hay. He led her out himself and then whistled up one of the boys to hold her while he cupped his hands to throw me into the saddle. As I settled myself, I was aware that he was giving both Rancie and me a long look.

‘Shouldn't leave it until too late,' he said again. Then, as he walked beside us to the gate: ‘And if you see your friend, tell him to come and see me.'

I said I would, not admitting I had no notion where Amos was and what he was doing. For all his hardness, Colum Paley was a worried man.

W
hen we got back, Mr Godwit was worried too – in his case about almost everything. Where had I been for so long? Had I eaten dinner? Was there any news from town about Barbara? I avoided the first question and said no to the other two. I hoped he couldn't smell the brandy on my breath. Tabby helped me untack Rancie and turn her out to graze in the evening sun and then disappeared to the back door for supper in the kitchen. Mr Godwit conjured up hot soup, cold salmon and hock for me and sat anxiously while I ate and drank. As soon as the plates were cleared, he asked another question.

‘You've remembered the assizes start on Saturday?'

That gave me a jolt – only two and a half days away.

‘I thought it was Monday.'

‘Monday's when the court proceedings begin, but the judges and their party make their formal entrance to the city on Saturday evening. We magistrates have to be there to welcome them.'

I breathed again. Four and a half days at least.

‘How soon is Picton's case to come up?'

‘It's listed first, for the Monday morning. When I see the others on Saturday, I'd like . . .' He paused, swallowed. ‘I'd like at least to have some idea if there's any new evidence.'

He said it quite humbly and I felt ashamed of myself. He'd taken an amazingly bold step, by his standards, in asking me to investigate. He'd given me hospitality and coped as calmly as he could with my comings and goings. He might even pay me, though with so many complications I couldn't depend on that. He was owed an explanation and, if my suspicions turned out to be right, it would come as a bad shock. The least I could do was prepare him for it, even if I wasn't ready to mention a name yet.