Gatehaven Page 28

  “Are you familiar with passenger ships going to the colonies?”

  “I am.” He pushed out his chest. “The captain and me be like this.” He crossed his fingers, holding them up so Leon could see them. “What would you be wanting to know?”

  “I know a ship is going to Charles Towne soon. But I want to surprise my relatives. If I book passage now, they will know. My surprise will be ruined. Can you tell me how I can book passage without anybody else knowing about it?”

  The sailor looked down briefly and shook his head. “I do not know, mate. Information like that can be expensive.”

  Leon handed the sailor a gold coin. “Will this cover the cost?”

  “For now.”

  “I would also like to have special permission to stay in a cabin with the ship’s officers during the voyage,” Leon said. “Can you arrange it? I’m willing to pay extra for that.”

  “I cannot say, mate. A request like that would take at least two more gold coins—if not more.”

  “If you expect to get more than I have already given you, you must provide me with the information I need. Until then, you will receive nothing more from me.” Leon leaned back in his chair, crossing his hands over his middle. “When can you have it for me?”

  “I will see the captain at dawn, mate. I can have the information by Friday.”

  Leon nodded. “Meet me at one of the tables here on Friday about this same time. And do not call me mate. I am Monsieur Picard to you. Now, let us see if we can get something to eat. I am in need of food. How about you?”

  “Me cup is empty. I would rather have more ale.”

  Two days later, Leon paid for his passage to Charles Towne without waiting to see if the Aimees had arrived, and he gave his sailor friend three gold coins for making it possible for him to stay in the officers’ quarters. It wouldn’t be wise to stay with the other passengers during the journey and perhaps be seen by the Aimees. He needed to leave England while he still could. If the Aimee family missed the ship, he would catch up with them once they arrived in the colonies.

  Ordinarily, he would have paid the sailor less or nothing at all for help such as this. But Leon would need a loyal friend while aboard the ship. Good friends were often expensive items to purchase, and Deaver Simpson had signed on as a sailonr on the Carolina.

  Ian paid another visit to Pastor Petit’s office. As he was leaving, he noticed a woman in the church graveyard. She stood in the shadows, and he was unable to recognize her. As he approached, she seemed distressed to see him. She started running down the road toward the center of town. Curious, Ian followed her.

  It started to rain—a sprinkle first, then a downpour. He ran for cover and saw the woman standing on the stoop in front of the baker’s shop.

  She turned and stared at him, and he suddenly realized that she was none other than Miss Foster, Shannon’s former chaperone.

  The small overhang over the door of the bakery was keeping her partially dry. She looked at him a moment longer and dashed out into the rain again.

  “Wait.” Ian opened his umbrella and raced after her. “Miss Foster, please wait.”

  The race continued to the end of the row of shops and houses. She darted into a rundown shed and shut the door.

  Ian slowly opened it. She cringed and slumped forward—crossing her arms over her chest like a kind of shield.

  “Please do not be frightened, Miss Foster. I mean you no harm. Why did you run away?”

  He could see that she was shaking, and she still hadn’t said a word.

  “You are trembling. You must be cold.” He removed his jacket, putting it around her shoulders. “There.” He’d tried to make his voice as gentle and non-threatening as possible. “That should warm you up in the twinkling of an eye.”

  A rickety old bench had been shoved in one corner of the shed with stacks of hay all around it. She was seated on the bench. He sat down beside her.

  “Are you feeling better now?”

  She refused to look at him.

  “This bench appears to be the only sitting box in the shed. Hope it’s all right, me sitting here.”

  She nodded, and Ian sat down. He hoped to make her feel comfortable enough to tell what was bothering her. They had never been close, but they were never enemies either. Her strange reaction to his mere presence caused him to want to learn her secret all the more.

  “Are you staying in the earl’s hunting lodge?”

  She nodded for the third time.

  Her nonverbal responses to his questions would not do. He would have to find a way to get her to talk to him.

  “The rain has stopped, Miss Foster, and I have an umbrella. Will you allow me to escort you to the nearest inn before the rain comes again?”

  She nodded instead of making a reply, but at least he was making progress. He led her to The Lion Heart across the street. They went inside and sat at a table. Now she would have to talk.

  “Would you like a cup of tea?”

  She didn’t reply for a moment. “Yes. I would.”

  Ian smiled internally. Miss Foster actually said something. He felt as if he’d won a kind of victory. He would wait until their tea was served before speaking again.

  At last, he asked, “How is the earl?”

  “I promised not to talk to anyone about the earl.”

  Ian took a sip of tea. “Did something happen at Gatehaven after I left?”

  She didn’t reply.

  “Please, Miss Foster, talk to me. If you do not, innocent people could die. Would you want something like that on your soul?”

  She opened her mouth as if she planned to speak. Then she closed her lips again and shook her head.

  “You liked Miss Aimee once. I know you did. I beg you, please tell me what you know.”

  She hesitated. “If I tell you what I know, will you promise never to tell that I told?”

  “Of course. Have you forgotten that I am a man of the cloth—or soon will be?”

  She paused for a moment as if perhaps she was making her decision. He wished he knew what she was thinking.

  “Very well then.” Miss Foster took a sip of tea and then another. “While the earl was in London the last time, he became engaged to a young woman from a wealthy family.” She set down her cup, which rattled against the cup holder. Warm tea sloshed over the side of the cup and onto the table. She pulled a white napkin from her lap and wiped up the spill. “Before his engagement was announced publicly, her father discovered—” She trembled again. “He accused the earl, the Frenchman, and the rest of us of being—of being murderers.”

  Ian expected that news to come out but not so soon. He tried not to let the surprise he felt show in his face.

  “He said that bodies were found in the woods,” she went on, “and we were responsible. I was a member of the Spiritualist Society, but I never killed anyone. None of the ladies did. You must believe me.” She sent Ian what he perceived as a pleading look.

  He nodded slowly but made no reply.

  “After the earl was arrested, I came here to Luss with the earl’s mother and grandmother. We are staying at the hunting lodge. If you repeat what I just told you, we could be arrested, too, and we are innocent. But I cannot say what went on when the men put on robes and went up on the top floor of Gatehaven.”

  “Was Leon—was Etienne Gabeau arrested as well?”

  “No, he got away before the authorities could catch him.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “I cannot say for certain.” Miss Foster picked up her cup and tipped it to her lips again. “But I overheard the earl tell his mother once that if the Frenchman ever left his estate in England, he would be in pursuit of a woman named Rachel. He said that as much as Monsieur Gabeau hated her, he would likely chase after her for the rest of his life.”

  Ian squirmed in his chair, unable to put the many thoughts forming in his head into words that would be understandable. “Who would know where he went?”

  She sh
rugged. “Millie McGregor might know.” She removed Ian’s jacket and placed it in the chair next to her. “Millie helped us escape to Scotland. She said her uncle was driving Etienne Gabeau somewhere. However, she had no idea of their destination.”

  “Did Millie say anything else?”

  “Her uncle expected to be gone for a long time. In fact, the Frenchman might never return, or her uncle either. Then her uncle asked if she’d ever heard of a place called Charles Towne.”

  Ian got up from the table. “Thank you, Miss Foster, you helped much.”

  He put his jacket back on, paid for the tea, and left, leaving Miss Foster alone at the table. He had to warn Shannon and her family of the danger they were in. He would pack a few things, mount his horse, and set out for Plymouth within the hour.

  Shannon’s family would be traveling in carts bearing heavy loads and pulled by strong horses known for their endurance. Also, they would need to drive slowly and make many stops along the way because of the baby. He should be able to overtake them—if he found the path they took. Otherwise, he would be waiting when they arrived in Plymouth.

  But Leon Picard might be waiting, too.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  IAN ARRIVED IN Plymouth after days of riding, camping at night and riding again. However, on especially damp and chilly nights in late summer, he stayed at inns where he ate meals that were well prepared and slept under warm blankets in fairly comfortable beds. Tired from the long journey, he planned to spend that night at an inn in town. A good meal and a warm bed were just what he needed.

  He’d hoped to overtake Shannon and her family along the way, but by the time he reached the outskirts of Plymouth, he knew that was not going to happen. A brisk wind moaned all around him, but he continued on, searching for a place to stay. He’d almost given up hope when he noticed lights just ahead.

  As he grew closer, he realized it was an inn with lanterns hanging from its eves. He squinted to read the name of the establishment through a heavy mist. The Anchor, he read.

  A light rain trickled down. Shivering from the dampness and the cold, he kicked his horse with the heels of his boots until the animal’s trot was replaced by a fast gallop.

  At the inn, he stabled his horse in the barn out back and went inside. The odor of stew cooking filled his nostrils, making him all the hungrier. His senses came alive with all kinds of pleasing sensations—food, warmth. He pictured a bowl of meat with vegetables all around it and could almost taste it. But as soon as he sat down at one of the tables, he felt someone watching him.

  Ian looked around the room but didn’t see anyone or anything that aroused his suspicion. Stew and warm tea were set before him, but as he ate his meal the feeling of being watched never left him. He happened to look up. A flabby, overweight, older man opened the entry door of the inn and went out. He never saw his face, but there was something about him that reminded him of—of McGregor, Leon’s driver. The man he saw could be him.

  He finished eating and went above stairs to turn in for the evening. But as he climbed into bed, he couldn’t dispel McGregor from his thoughts and the fact that he was watching Ian without making himself known.

  It was a damp and chilly night. Leon Picard was seated at a table in front of the inn’s huge fireplace. He’d visited with Deaver Simpson for almost an hour, eating and drinking with the sailor—his new employee. Now it was time for Mr. Simpson to go.

  He’d given McGregor a few hours off so Leon could meet with Deaver Simpson in private. But McGregor would be arriving within the hour. It wouldn’t be wise for the three of them to be seen together.

  Leon leaned across the table in the hope that nobody but the sailor would hear what he planned to say. “Mr. Simpson, you better go now. My driver could return at any moment.”

  “I will be on me way then, mate.”

  Leon sent him a thunderous frown.

  The sailor’s laugh had a nervous edge to it. “I mean Monsieur Picard.”

  “Do not laugh at me, Simpson, or you will be sorry.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now go.”

  Leon watched the sailor leave the inn. Then he continued eating.

  He didn’t want McGregor to know about the sailor just yet.

  McGregor had worked as Leon’s driver at his estate in England for years, and Leon actually liked him. But he had no wish to take McGregor with him to Charles Towne. He couldn’t allow him to return to Fairs. McGregor knew too much and was an honest man at heart. It would be easy for the authorities back in Fairs to convince McGregor to testify against Leon.

  Perhaps it wouldn’t matter. Leon would be living in the colonies across an ocean from England and the village of Fairs, and using a different name. Still, who can say that he might not be arrested? He couldn’t afford to take that chance.

  Simpson agreed to take McGregor’s life for a handsome fee. Leon had only to tell him when and where.

  Earlier that evening, Leon had McGregor follow two carts as they rolled slowly into town. He’d kept his carriage at a distance so Rachel and Shannon Aimee and the rest of their party wouldn’t notice him. Leon wanted to know exactly where they would be staying until they sailed for Charles Towne, and he’d learned that the Aimees were staying at The Ship’s Crew, an inn closer to the docks than the inn where Leon now resided.

  Leon told Deaver Simpson to stay at the inn where the Aimees were staying in order to keep a close watch on them. He also told Simpson to wear regular clothes. He didn’t want Simpson to be identified as a sailor.

  The entry door opened and McGregor came inside. He smiled when he saw Leon seated at a table alone, hurrying to join him.

  “I have news for you tonight, Monsieur.”

  “Really?” Leon stuck his fork into a slice of beef. “And what might that be?” He lifted the fork to his mouth and chewed slowly.

  “Ian Colquhoun has arrived in Plymouth.”

  “What?” Leon stood on shaky legs. The white cloth he’d placed on his lap fell to the floor.

  “Colquhoun is staying at The Anchor Inn. I know. I saw him there.”

  Leon grabbed the back of his chair for support. “I will not allow this Scotsman to destroy all I have worked for.” He gripped the handle of his cane. “Good night, Mr. McGregor. I am going above stairs now. I will need time to decide what to do next.”

  Shannon was tired from their long journey and eager to climb into bed. But first she must break bread with her family in the big eating room. Afterward, she would need to help her mother with the baby and get her grandmother settled for the night before she could afford the luxury of sleep.

  On the morrow, they would sign on to the Carolina. A few days after that, they would leave England and Scotland forever.

  And she would never see Ian again.

  If not for that fact, she might actually enjoy the thought of such an adventure.

  The eating room was filled with people, mostly rowdy sailors. Shannon’s chair faced the entry door, so she was able to see who went in and out.

  A muscular man with a bald head came in and looked around. He appeared to be searching for someone. All at once he fixed his gaze on Shannon from across the room. She knew she’d never seen him previously. He seemed overly interested in her.

  “Mama.” Shannon poked her mother’s arm with her elbow. “That man over there is staring at us.”

  Rachel Aimee followed her daughter’s gaze. “The one with the bald head?”

  “Yes.”

  Her mother smiled. “You must get used to men looking at you, Shannon. You are a very beautiful young lady.”

  Still, the man was unsettling. He continued to stare at Shannon the entire time they were in the eating room. Shannon was glad when they all finished eating, and they went above stairs to their rooms. She would be sharing a room with Kate until Kate became her sister-in-law, and she looked forward to talking in whispers with her. Perhaps Kate would tell her something about Ian that Shannon never knew.

  Ian
was not able to discover where Shannon and her family were staying. But it really didn’t matter. He would be seeing them when they boarded the ship.

  On the morning they were to set out to sea, Ian got up early. He was dressed and preparing to go down to break the fast when he heard a knock at his door.

  He opened the door without thinking. A muscular man with a bald head burst inside, holding some sort of weapon. It all happened so fast, Ian didn’t have time to think. He saw the man lift his arm to hit Ian with something. Darkness covered him.

  Ian awoke as moonlight shimmered into the damp and darkened room. Had he slept all day? And why was he on the floor? He touched his head. It hurt, and he felt a lump.

  He got up and staggered to the door.

  At the head of the stairs, he looked down, trying to remember what happened. The world was spinning around and around. He grabbed the railings to keep from falling and crept down the stairs on shaky legs— slow and easy like an old man would.

  “What happened to you?” the innkeeper asked.

  Ian shrugged. “I cannot say. But I must get to the docks right away. I am sailing to Charles Towne on the Carolina.”

  “The Carolina, did you say?”

  “Aye.”

  “Well, you are too late. The Carolina would be out in the channel by now.”

  Ian didn’t feel well enough to venture out, but he was thirsty. He sat down and ordered water and a small meal. The innkeeper sat at Ian’s table as if he was an honored guest.

  What made that big bump on your head, squire?” The innkeeper chuckled softly. “Did you walk into a door?”

  “Someone came into my room and hit me.”

  “Hit you? Not at my inn.”

  “It is true. I heard a knock on my door soon after I dressed to go down to the docks. I opened the door, and a man with no hair hit me over the head with something hard—like a big stick. I slept all day after the blow. I awoke only a few minutes ago. Did you see any strangers come in the inn today?”

  “Strangers come here to and fro every day. Some have bald heads. But I saw no man come in the inn carrying a weapon like the one you described. Only those staying here are allowed above the stairs. He must have sneaked in the inn and up the stairs while I was out or busy in the kitchen.”