Yield Not To Misfortune (The Underwood Mysteries Book 5) (7 page)

CHAPTER TEN

“Aut Bibat Aut Abeat” – You are either for us or against us

By the time Underwood had taken note of the whereabouts of Mr Toft, the lawyer’s office and extracted a promise that he might be able to meet and talk with Miss Petch in the next day or so, he found Miss Fettiplace in such a state of nerves that he was obliged to ring the bell for service and when the maid arrived he had to ask her to escort the older lady off the premises by means of the back door, so that she might not be seen by any interested parties. Luckily her advanced age saved Underwood from any pert glances from the maid, for sneaking a lady out of his presence, it being known he was a married man by virtue of his wedding band.

When he exited the room himself some minutes later, having given Miss Fettiplace chance to leave the building without a stain on her character, he found the landlord waiting for him with the news that he had another visitor, “Mr Luckhurst here to see you, sir. I did tell him that you were taking tea and had asked not to be disturbed as you were composing a letter of some importance.” He winked broadly at Underwood, who was given to understand that either he had won himself an ally through his innate charm, or more probably that Luckhurst was about as popular with the townspeople of West Wimpleford as he was with the dismissed staff at Pershore House.

Luckhurst was pacing the hall, obviously furious at being kept waiting. Underwood felt that the moment had arrived to put the obnoxious little toad in his place. As the younger man turned to confront him, Underwood lifted his quizzing glass out of his waistcoat pocket and raised it to his eye. He looked Luckhurst up and down in a disdainful way which he had perfected by observing one of his ex-pupils, who had astoundingly grown from a spotty youth into one of the most admired dandies in London, whose quizzing glass was known as the most devastating weapon among the aristocracy. Actually Underwood’s wasn’t even a dandified quizzing glass, but a magnifying glass which he used occasionally for his cases, but Luckhurst wasn’t to know that, and it had the desired effect. The man found himself so shocked by the contempt in Underwood’s demeanour that he was quite bereft of speech for several seconds, which gave Underwood the advantage, if only for a short while.

“May I do something to be of assistance to you, sir?” he asked coldly.

Naturally it didn’t take long for someone as arrogant as Luckhurst to regain his composure, “Certainly. You can tell me what the devil you think you are doing here. I know from your bearing that you are most definitely not a military man, so that cock-and-bull story you told about being a comrade of my cousin can clearly be disregarded.”

Underwood smiled, but there was a dangerous glint in his eye, “My dear sir, it is no business of yours who I am or what I’m doing in town. I came to see Miss Petch, not you.”

“And I will not have you lying to my fiancée!”

“When she is your fiancée, you may have an opinion, until then my friend, it’s of continuing disinterest to me what you think about my motives.”

The way the man’s mouth fell open with astonishment alerted Underwood to his error. He silently berated himself for allowing Luckhurst to irritate him to such a degree that he had lost his temper and spoken hastily. Of course he should not know that Miss Petch had been proposed to and had as yet withheld her answer.

“Who in damnation told you about my relationship with Miss Petch?”

Underwood drew his snuff box from his coat pocket, flicked it open with a practised thumbnail and took a leisurely pinch, “Dear me, have I been indiscreet? Well, never mind, I’m sure we’ll all recover from the oversight presently. Now, I’m sure you didn’t come here, my young hothead, to discuss my failings. Pray get your tiresome warnings over and done with, so that I can go about my business.”

Luckhurst was so incensed by this speech, he entirely failed to notice that Underwood did not answer his question, “You take my enmity very lightly, sir, but you will learn that I am not to be underestimated.”

It was at this juncture that Underwood very nearly mentioned the scar-faced ostler who had been sent to spy on him, but managed to restrain himself – he had given away enough for one day. Instead he smiled in that lazy way of his that could be guaranteed to send anyone of excessive self-importance into an apoplectic frenzy, “Console yourself, my dear fellow, with the knowledge that you have sent chills of fear running up and down my spine. Good day to you.” With that he brushed past the man and went up the stairs to his room.

Luckhurst unfortunately waited a little too long to bring to mind something cutting to respond and Underwood was out of earshot before the tirade began. When it grew too offensive and loud, the landlord intercepted and showed the man off the premises before he had his jacket dusted by one of several gentlemen who had just arrived on the coach in the company of ladies who were visibly shocked by the choice language.

Underwood, who was leaning over the upstairs banister and had heard every word, grinned wickedly to himself before retreating to his room to have a wash and change his clothes before venturing out again in search of Lawyer Toft.

              He found that gentleman just preparing to leave for the evening, though Underwood noticed that his clerk kept to his place and was very obviously not about to finish his work for at least another hour.

“Mr Toft I presume? My name is Underwood. I wonder if I might beg a few minutes speech with you sir.”

Mr Toft waved his hand in the vague direction of his industrious clerk, “Make an appointment, my dear sir. I may be able to fit you in sometime next week.”

“I’m afraid that won’t do, sir, though I do apologise for the imposition. I’ll be leaving town in the next couple of days, but before I leave I do need to discuss Mr Rutherford Petch with you – and his sister also.”

At the name of Petch, the man stopped in his tracks and glanced sideways at Underwood, his filmy blue eyes suddenly interested, though he was trying to disguise the fact.

“I’m afraid the Petch family are no longer my clients, sir, so I doubt I can be of assistance.”

“I’m very sure you can help, sir, if you’ll forgive my persistence.”

Mr Toft caught Underwood’s eye, then threw a warning glance towards the clerk and Underwood immediately understood. The clerk must be another in the pay of the odious Luckhurst.

“You are wrong, sir, I have had no dealings with the Petch siblings for over two years. Allow me to show you out.”

Underwood went before him to the door and as he passed the older man, he heard him whisper, “The coffee house down the street, to the left. Ten minutes.”

“Good day to you, sir. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

He walked away, to the right, so that the clerk saw him go past the window, then he crossed the street and doubled back, finding the coffee house with no difficulty. Mr Toft joined him, as promised, within the allotted ten minutes.

“I took the liberty of ordering us coffee,” said Underwood rising to his feet and pulling out a chair for the lawyer.

“Thank you, but I mustn’t tarry long. My wife expects me home.”

“I understand. Hopefully it will not take long to satisfy my curiosity.”

He waited until they had steaming cups of the fragrant brew before them and the lad who had served them was out of the way.

“Tell me about Mr Petch, sir. Miss Fettiplace gives me to understand that she feels sure that he is innocent of the crime for which he has been transported.”

“I’m sure she has not misplaced her trust in him.” 

Underwood raised a quizzical brow, “Mr Toft, do you realize what you are saying? I can scarcely believe that almost everyone I meet is sure Petch is no thief, but the man languishes in the Colonies nevertheless.”

“You do not understand, Mr Underwood, how powerful Luckhurst has become since he began to ingratiate himself with his Great Aunt.”

“I’m very sure he has his spies everywhere. I have witnessed his methods at first hand, but he cannot, in truth, have the law in his pay too.”

“Can he not?” responded Toft wearily, “He dines with the local magistrate every week, and pays for the Town Watchman from his own money. The local Constable is his oldest friend.”

Underwood looked thoughtful, “It sounds as though he owns the whole town.”

“He may as well do so. He has poisoned his aunt against Rutherford Petch and convinced her to change her will in his favour. She wanted to pass over Rutherford after his disgrace and leave everything to Miss Petch instead, but he has promised that he will marry the girl, assuring his aunt that without his care, Cressida would allow the whole estate to fall into ruin, or worse still, hold it for Petch’s eventual return.”

“If Rutherford did not steal the necklace, do you think Luckhurst did so?”

“No, I feel sure he is too canny to do any such thing. He would be ruined if it was discovered in his possession and to pay someone else to steal it would be to leave himself open to blackmail. I believe the old lady really has hidden it somewhere in the house – Luckhurst merely took advantage of its disappearance.”

“But he could not have known she would do anything of the kind.”

“The truth is he didn’t need the theft of the necklace to get rid of Rutherford. He had already successfully brought Miss Greenhowe round to his side by crawling and flattering, making himself indispensible while Rutherford spent years in the Peninsular fighting for his country. And of course the stupid boy did not help his own case by being thoroughly rakish when he came home on leave.” He sighed tiredly and took a sip of his rapidly cooling coffee.

“So if we could find the necklace and clear Rutherford’s name, all will be well,” said Underwood bracingly. He felt that everyone connected with this case was capitulating far too easily. They all needed to realize that even someone as power-crazed as Luckhurst had his Achilles heel – it was simply a case of finding it.

“A mighty big ‘if’, Mr Underwood. I assure you that house has been searched from top to bottom with no sign of the dashed thing. And even should it be found, there is no guarantee that Miss Greenhowe will change her will again. I no longer have any influence over her. Luckhurst told her that I had been mishandling her investments. I was fortunate not to end in Australia with poor Rutherford. I only escaped prosecution by agreeing to stand down as the family solicitor. Luckhurst has his own man in charge of her affairs now and no one can get near to her to try and talk sense into her. He claims she is ill, but I suspect he befuddles her already weak mind with laudanum and insidious gossip.” 

“If she is feeble-minded then surely her affairs should be in the hands of a disinterested party. Are there not laws which protect the property of the vulnerable from such vultures as Luckhurst?”

“There are, but how can we prove her incapable whilst she is so closely guarded? I tried to have her examined by a physician, but it needed the permission of the local Magistrate to proceed – and I need not explain how well that was received by the man who hunts, drinks and dines with Luckhurst!”

A frown descended upon Underwood’s brow. This matter was growing more complicated with every passing hour – and he was eager to get home. But never would he walk away whilst there was a wrong to be righted.

It looked as though he would be extending his stay a little longer.

“Is there but one apothecary in town, sir?” he asked.

“Yes, just the one, but why do you ask? Are you feeling unwell?”

“I’ve never been better, sir, thank you,” he replied, “And thank you for your time. You have been most helpful.”

“I don’t see how, but if you say so. Pray let me know if you manage to aid poor Rutherford, won’t you, sir?”

“Indeed I will.”

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Quo Vadis?” – Wither goest thou?

Toby Hambleton decided that there were some things that Mrs Underwood was better off not knowing. The letter in his hand was a case in point. In it was his instructions from Mr Underwood and he was very well aware that Verity would most certainly not approve. She hated the notion of underhand dealing of any kind and was finding it difficult enough to treat Lydia Woodforde as anything other than that which she claimed to be, despite the lack of proof. If she knew that her husband had told Toby that his task now was to follow Miss Woodforde whenever she was apart from her mother and report back her every move, meetings and conversations, she would be most unhappy.

Toby himself had no qualms. He had known Underwood long enough to realize that he never asked for any action without having good reasons. He was also well aware that Verity’s rose-hued vision of the world was no help at all when dealing with life’s rogues and rascals.

Underwood had not asked him to keep the letter a secret – he would never require Toby to deceive his adored Verity, but the more he thought about it, the more reluctant Toby was to confide in his mistress – not that she considered herself to be his mistress. He accepted payment and his keep from the Underwoods but none of the parties involved considered him to be an employee. If anything he was their lodger who helped out around the house and garden, with the children and with any other tasks which should happen to need attention.

Of course this unconventional arrangement caused much speculation in the town of Hanbury. No one could quite work out how the household fitted together, but Verity was so popular, Underwood admired and Toby well-liked that it had really ceased to matter to anyone but the newcomers, who raised an eyebrow, asked questions and had to be satisfied with indulgent shrugs. The Underwoods might be eccentric, but they were Hanbury eccentrics.

Since he didn’t actually have any duties to perform, though he did indeed keep himself busy in the house and garden, Toby found it relatively easy to absent himself and keep an eye on Miss Woodforde.

For the first few days it was evident that Mrs Woodforde could not bear her darling girl out of her sight, so Toby had little to do except ingratiate himself with local landlords, using various inns and taverns to keep watch on the Spa, the circulating library, coffee shops and other emporia. It was the sort of task he would normally find excruciatingly boring, for, though he liked a drink as much as the next man, he was not generally a frequenter of public houses. With his build and previous life as a pugilist, it was all too easy to find himself embroiled in fisticuffs. He avoided fights as best he could, but there was nearly always some drunken idiot who decided to take on the great, never-forgotten ‘Hammer-fist’ Hambleton. Often Toby could talk his would-be aggressors down from their fighting stance, but occasionally he was forced to give some young buck a lesson he would not soon forget, then he would have to explain away his grazed knuckles to a concerned Verity.

When Lydia did start to wander a little, with only her Sabrina to keep her company, Toby followed and took copious notes, but she did nothing of any real interest, or so it seemed. Of course Toby could not hide his identity for very long, he was far too well known in Hanbury for that, and he also accompanied Verity more often than not, driving her into town, for it not to be noticed by the two young women. Almost imperceptibly, Sabrina ceased to accompany her mistress and instead sought out the big man and occupied all his time and attention, with the obvious intention of distracting him from his surveillance.

“My mistress is choosing some ribbon to trim her new bonnet and it must be the exact shade as her green leather half-boots. Thank heavens she has taken Mrs Thornycroft with her so that I do not have to bear the tedium of shopping with her. Her fussiness is unbearable,” said Sabrina, sipping lemonade while sitting on a low wall outside The Saracen’s Head. Toby had a tankard of ale and had been happily ensconced in the tap room until he had seen her wistful face looking in at the window, perhaps searching for him. He had immediately left his cronies to their beer and pipes of strong tobacco and joined her outside in the sunshine.

It might have been evident to Underwood, had he been there, what mischief the girls were up to, but it never occurred to Toby that he was being played as skilfully as Underwood played the pianoforte; that he was dancing to the tune of the two young women. As soon as the beautiful Sabrina began to talk to him, he entirely forgot his promise to Underwood not to let Miss Woodforde out of his sight. When she looked adoringly up at him from beneath her impossibly long, dark lashes, her eyes the colour of hot chocolate, her skin tawny and smooth, he was lost in a dream of a love that he thought he would never find. He knew his real family were in Barbados, but he had been wrenched from them when he was so young that he had no memory of them. For years he had scarcely given them a thought, but having Sabrina by his side, her hair still smelling of the coconut oil she used to smooth the unruly curls, he was transported back, even if only in his imagination, to his childhood home. Eagerly he questioned her about other slaves on the island, hoping, yet despairing that she would know his mother and could give him news of the family he had never known.

She, in her turn, asked him about himself, begged to know how he had broken the shackles of slavery and found freedom. Before he knew what he was about, he was giving her the full story of his early life. He had been born in the late seventeen hundreds in a gentleman’s family to a female slave.  The existence of a father was never mentioned, but it was hinted that a member of the household was responsible.  Probably a member of the family, for had it merely been another servant, even a white man, there would have been no secret, in fact they might even have been allowed to get married; it was quite acceptable for the lower classes to fraternise with the black population, though not, of course, the gentry.

It seemed his early years had been fairly comfortable.  He had been an engaging child and so the mistress of the house had taken him under her wing and treated him almost as a favourite pet.  From the age of two he had been her constant companion.  It seemed the master was rarely at home.  He lived a life of debauchery in London, wenching and gambling while his wife stayed dutifully in the country pile.  She was childless herself and seemed to pour all her maternal instincts into this attractive little boy.  He slept in a truckle bed in her room and spent his days as her companion, doing small tasks and fetching and carrying for her.  She taught him to read and write and to reckon and had him baptised a Christian. 

However a sudden growth spurt at the age of fourteen brought him to the attention of the master, who suddenly decided that this tall, handsome black youth was hardly fit company for his aging wife.  He was told that he would join the rest of the male slaves on the sugar plantation in Barbados and his passage was arranged on the next available ship.

His mistress, knowing that working with the sugar cane was practically a death sentence to one as gently raised as Toby, begged with her husband to grant the boy his freedom.  Toby never knew how she managed to persuade him, but after days of adamant denial, he suddenly capitulated and Toby was literally turned out onto the streets with only the clothes he had on his back.  His mistress managed to slip some money into his hand as she bade him a tearful farewell, but other than those few guineas, he had nothing.

His first thought was to go to London and seek work, but a few days of seeing the grinding poverty, drunkenness and filth that characterised the poorer areas of the great city, he took himself off back to the country and found what work he could as an itinerant worker.  His beloved mistress had read ‘Robinson Crusoe’ to him as a child and he realised that at least in the countryside, he stood a chance of being able to live off the land if he couldn’t find work.  As it happened he was much in demand because of his exceptionally hard work and growing physical strength.  The fine, inherited physique soon blossomed into rippling muscles as he earned his living in agriculture, and it was not long before a passing Travelling Show recruited him as a bare-knuckle pugilist.  At first he was employed merely to have wrestling matches with brawny young men who wanted to try and win a few pennies by flooring the resident champion, but the owner of the fair soon realised that he had a money-spinner on his hands and Toby was trained in the noble art of boxing.

“I had heard,” said Sabrina, “that it was Mr Underwood who saved your life when you were beaten almost to death. I must say I was surprised, for he does not at all seem like a man who would enjoy fighting.”

Toby laughed heartily at the thought of the elegant Underwood involved in anything so unseemly as a ‘mill’; of course he could have no idea that at that very moment, far away in West Wimpleford, the ‘elegant’ Mr Underwood was elbowing a man in the face and very nearly breaking his nose.

“I can assure you that though Underwood was indeed my rescuer, the fight itself was long over. He found me half dead in a ditch and brought me back to Gil and Verity for their ministrations.”

Sabrina joined in his laughter, “I have not yet met Mr Underwood, but from what I have heard, that sounds very much nearer to the truth than him wading in and boxing with your assailants. I wish you would tell me more about him. What manner of man is he? My mistress says that she hears his name on everyone’s lips and that he is really quite famous as a solver of mysteries.”

Her words gave him a sudden pang of conscience. It was obvious from her manner that she was angling for him to tell her about Underwood, and had merely been waiting for an opportunity to question him without rousing his suspicions. The breathless way she spoke, quickly saying what she had to before he could interrupt, told him that she was recalling a practised speech. He suddenly realized that she and Lydia could only be interested in Underwood for one reason – they had been warned that he was to investigate Lydia’s claim. With sickening certainty he saw that he had been guilty of dereliction of duty. He currently had no idea where Lydia was, but he knew one thing for sure; she was likely to be quite alone, for he had her abigail here beside him, and no matter what story Sabrina had told him about Lydia being in the company of Mrs Thornycroft, he had no proof of that, or indeed anything else she confided.

He had been a fool to think that this beautiful creature was in any way interested in him and his tales of pugilism and escape from slavery. She had been sent to distract him and he had allowed her to do so with pitiable ease. He rose to his feet, “Good grief, look at the time,” he nodded towards the clock on the tower of the nearest church, “your mistress will be wondering where you have been all these hours. I should hate to get you into trouble with her. I must escort you back to her.”

Sabrina hastily scrambled to her feet, “There’s no need for that. I’ll go by myself.”

“But you don’t know where she is, do you?”

“Oh, I’ll find her,” she said vaguely, “she’s bound to return to the Pump rooms for tea when she has finished shopping.”

If Toby had been in any doubt that Sabrina was a dupe, this comment disabused him of the notion. She had most certainly been told to stay by him to make sure that he did not follow Lydia. His disappointment in her and his self-recrimination made him curt with her, “You had better get yourself off and find her then,” he said dismissively, “I have my own errands to perform and shouldn’t have wasted so much time sitting about with you.”

With that he walked away, and Sabrina watched him leave, her face reflecting the confusion she felt at the sudden change of heart on his part. She had begun to talk to him because she had been told to, but very quickly she had begun to enjoy herself. She was rarely spoken to so gently and with such courtesy. To her mistress she was no better than a dog or a horse, there simply to serve without question. Most other people did not know how to treat her, confused by her position in society and wondering if she even spoke or understood English, so infrequently did they have contact with those whom they supposed to be ‘natives’. Even when slavery was at its height thirty years before, it had rarely reached as far north as Derbyshire. Ignorance made people afraid, she had found.

Toby felt that his long strides couldn’t put distance between him and Sabrina fast enough. He wanted to punch something, or preferably someone; such was his anger and frustration at her duplicity and his own gullibility. It was not as though Underwood had not warned him to be careful. The man feared there was a dark game afoot and he had tried to arm both Toby and Verity with wariness so that they might not be manipulated by the man who was behind the whole sorry enterprise, but of course they had both been drawn in; Verity by her natural inclination to see the good in everyone and himself by the wiles of a lovely girl.

They both needed to be more vigilant and though Toby knew that he had now learned a hard lesson and would benefit from it, he feared the same could not be said for Mrs Underwood. Verity would continue to welcome Lydia and Sabrina until something so momentous happened that she would have no choice but to walk away from them – and Toby was terribly afraid that by the time that occurred, it might very well be too late.

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