Clara's own priorities were of quite another kind, and once they had finished their belated tour of the house she took Amanda into the garden to make a list of the young gentlemen living in the area. Not being acquainted with anyone but the few people she had met since her arrival, she needed a local's help with the task, and Captain Gilbert, she felt, was not the one she was going to ask. He'd probably assist her, simply because it was the kind of tedious work he'd think suitable for a lady, but if she had to spend an hour or two accomplishing a difficult job with one of the Gilberts she preferred the Gilbert in question to be Amanda. Amanda happily entered into the scheme. She was only too willing to do her share of the work, she told Clara as they walked into the garden, and would do everything in her power to help.
"Are we going to draw up a list of suspects?" she asked.
"Only a list of the young gentlemen living in and around Colby Green. It is not for me to know whether they are suspects or not, but maybe with the help of Captain Gilbert we may later establish who is a suspect and who is not," Clara replied.
"As for that, I am sure John suspects Mr Ernest Norman," Amanda said after a moment.
"Why?"
"He dislikes him," Amanda explained.
"He dislikes me too, but I am not a criminal," Clara said with some amusement.
"It's not only John who dislikes him. Simon and Ben dislike him too, and Simon once said he would not trust him any further than he could throw him, and Simon could not throw him very far I am afraid."
Clara laughed. "It would not be seemly for him to do so, being the clergyman that he is," she pointed out.
"Yes, but you have to admit that if a clergyman says something bad about somebody there must be a good reason for it," Amanda said. "Simon always tries not to judge people too harshly. He says he ought not to be judgemental, and you will never catch him say bad things about anyone unless there is truly nothing good to be said about them."
Clara digested this for a few moments. "Very well," she said and wrote down Mr Norman's name. "How would you describe him? What does he look like?"
"He is tall, taller even than John," Amanda said. "And John is the tallest in our family. He looks rather strong too, and from what Ben has let fall once I believe he is a boxer though he doesn't always fight fair; Ben seems to think so at any rate."
"A truly unsavoury character then," Clara said. She began to understand why Amanda's brothers disliked the man. People who did not play by the rules could not expect to become universal favourites.
The next young men on the list were Mr Colby and Mr Summers. Amanda knew nothing to say against either of them, though she admitted that she did not know them well since they both spent most of their time in Town.
"Would you say that Mr Colby is well acquainted with the area?" Clara asked.
"Oh yes; he grew up here," Amanda replied. "When he was a boy he spent most of his time in Colby Hall with his tutor. Lady Waldegrave thought he was too sickly to be sent to school."
While Mr Colby was still a slight young man, he had not looked to Clara as if he was sickly. However, as a boy he might well have been, or at least his mother had believed him to be.
"And Mr Summers?" she asked. "Is he here often?"
"Not very often; but he does occasionally come here when the Waldegraves do," Amanda informed her. "Lady Waldegrave is very fond of him and often invites him. He told me that he enjoys his visits here he is a good horseman and is often seen riding with his cousin."
"Do they hunt?"
"Mr Colby has a hunting box in Leicestershire I believe, and he keeps several hunters," Amanda said. "I daresay he sometimes invites his cousin to accompany him when he hunts there. But they do not hunt hereabouts; at least I have never seen them, and neither has my father who does."
Clara wondered how much it cost a man to hunt in the shires. Hunters were expensive, she knew, and so was their upkeep. Not being much of a horsewoman, she had no idea how much a man wishing to hunt with the Quorn and the Pytchley would have to expend to achieve this ambition, but in all likelihood it was a tidy sum. Were Mr Colby and Mr Summers able to afford it? They both looked affluent enough, but although she was not well acquainted with the fashionable set she knew that the outward impression they gave did not matter. A man could be literally as poor as a church mouse and still dress expensively. Many people lived beyond their means, taking good care that no one should notice how straitened their circumstances really were. Mrs Blackwell had often cautioned her not to set too much store by appearances for that exact reason; for fortune hunters, she had told her, would take good care not to give the impression of someone desperately in need of a rich wife.
So for all their air of affluence, both Mr Colby and Mr Summers might well be in financial difficulties. But even if they were, did this mean they would stoop to highway robbery? Mr Colby was probably not a suspect though; he was neither tall nor athletic enough to be the highwayman.
It was very likely that she would get an opportunity to talk to them during the ball, and Clara decided to make every use of it. She only hoped Mr Ernest Norman would recover from his influenza until Tuesday, so she would have the chance to meet him too, and maybe discover something about his whereabouts the night the assaults had happened.
"The Overtons," she prompted. Both Overton brothers were tall, brawny young men; no wonder considering that they spent most of their days working on their father's farm. Yet they were by no means vulgar country bumpkins; they had benefited by a proper education in a good school, and there was not a hint of coarseness about them. Each of them would pass for a gentleman, Clara was certain, and they had easy access to farm horses. Would they also be able to obtain firearms without causing comment?
She remembered how Mr James Overton had applauded the idea of hunting for the highwayman, and had called it "excellent sport". Had it been a mere ruse to avert suspicion? Or had he been sincere? His brother, too, had taken to the idea, or had at least acted as if he had. Clara wished she could meet them at the ball, but was almost certain that she was not going to. Gentlemanlike though they were, Lady Waldegrave would not invite a mere farmer's family to a ball in her home, no matter how desperately she needed to increase the number of her guests, or how genteel the family was.
Amanda scoffed at the notion that either of the dull Overton brothers could have had anything to do with something as dashing as highway robbery, but she answered Clara's questions willingly. Maybe they should walk to Lane Farm one of these days, Clara pondered. If she cultivated a friendship with the daughters of the family, she might be able to discover more about the sons.
By the end of their conference, Clara had a list of ten gentlemen who lived in the neighbourhood and whose actions she would have to check on. She was going to meet most of them at the ball, and would make the best of that opportunity. As for the Overtons, she would have to persuade Amanda to take a long walk soon. She would drop a passing remark at some time during the evening to discover if the Overtons were invited to the ball or not; maybe if they were not Amanda would not be averse to calling on them in order to commiserate or, in other words, to brag.
As they walked back to the house Amanda said, "I hope John won't be too upset when he meets Mrs Morgan at the ball."
"And who is Mrs Morgan that her presence at Colby Hall should upset your brother?" Clara wanted to know.
"The woman he wanted to marry," Amanda told her. "She married Mr Morgan instead."
"Oh! The infamous Sally Yates! I'd say you had better forewarn Captain Gilbert. That way he will not be taken aback when he does come across Mrs Morgan and her husband."
"But that might mean that he will stay at home altogether!" Amanda cried, horrified at the notion.
"If he does, it will be by his own choice," Clara said. "I'd say you ought to give him a chance to decide for himself whether his first meeting with Mrs Morgan since her marriage should be in public, at a large social function, or among a smaller circle. Tell him that she will be there and see what he will say."
"I never understood what he saw in the woman, anyway," Amanda muttered.
Clara laughed. "Who knows? By now he might even be at one with you regarding that subject."
It was not Amanda but Simon who forewarned John that Mrs Morgan and her husband had come to visit her parents, and were going to attend the ball at Colby Hall. Strangely enough, he did not feel as strongly about it as he had thought he would. It would have been too much to say that he was indifferent, for he was not. But his feelings were no longer as powerful as they had been, and he felt that he would be able to spend the evening in their company with tolerable comfort as long as he was not obliged to speak to either of them any more than civility required. Once that was over and done with, he could set about forgetting all about them; he was quite willing to do so. He was not going to lose any more sleep over Sally or Mrs Morgan, as he was supposed to call her now for he had other things to worry about. No; he was not yet indifferent to her, but neither was he in a jealous rage. He was not going to meet her unawares and so he was going to be fine.
At dinner, Amanda announced that she was going to practise her dancing steps that evening.
"Clara is going to play for us," she said, "and we can have a little dance. Won't that be fun?"
"Did my sister bully you into playing, Miss Baines?" John asked his neighbour.
"I do not let myself be bullied, Captain Gilbert. I thought you had noticed as much," she replied smilingly. "She asked me, and I am not averse to the scheme."
"But you will not be able to dance if you are to play all evening," John pointed out. "It does not seem fair to me."
"I enjoy playing," Miss Baines said defensively.
"And you do not enjoy dancing?"
"I also enjoy dancing, but tonight I'm going to play," Miss Baines insisted.
"It will not be necessary for Miss Baines to play all evening I hope," John's father remarked placidly. "There will be someone surely who can take her place at the pianoforte so she can join the dance at times."
John knew that his cousin Eleanor was a proficient piano player; and she, having overheard her uncle's suggestion, was quick to volunteer.
"We shall take turns at the pianoforte," she said, smilingly. "I was going to suggest it after dinner, but my uncle has forestalled me."
When they joined the ladies after dinner, the drawing room had already been made ready for their impromptu dance. John's mother was sitting on the sofa, smiling benevolently at Miss Baines and Eleanor who were sitting at the pianoforte and studying the music sheets.
They had agreed that Miss Baines was to be the first to play for half an hour, and then trade places with Eleanor. Since Amanda refused to stand up with her brother even in that private setting, John was at leisure to sit down with Miss Baines and watch her play, while Walter and Morrison danced with Amanda and Eleanor.
Miss Baines was an excellent player; she played with spirit and passion, and appeared to enjoy herself immensely. John was no longer worried that she had allowed herself to be bullied into taking the wallflower's part; anyone watching her play must come to the conclusion that she had not needed much in the way of persuasion to oblige her friend, and that she was anything but a wallflower. When she was not being Miss Prim-and-Proper but allowed some animation to show, she had no inconsiderable charm.
"I do wonder why Amanda was so keen on dancing tonight," John remarked when the first country dance finished and Miss Baines arranged the music sheets for another one.
"Do you? She enjoys dancing and thought it would amuse her guests. She was right, too."
"Probably; but if she hadn't wanted to dance she wouldn't have cared to suggest it."
"Of course she wants to dance; she'd be a strange sort of girl if she did not," Miss Baines said, starting to play again. "She is also keen on making a good impression on Tuesday, which was why she wanted to practise her steps. The ball at Colby Hall is her first and she wants it to be perfect; the first ball is a significant event for a girl. I daresay you may think it somewhat frivolous; gentlemen have so many other and much more important things to get excited about, but consider how little else a girl of Amanda's age has to think of."
John considered the matter for a moment and had to admit that there was much in what Miss Baines had said. She might be annoying at times, but she was an intelligent woman; he had to grant her that. Unlike other women he could name she did possess plenty of good sense.
"Is this why you want to take part in our search for the highwayman?" he asked her.
"For sport, as Mr James Overton so aptly called it? No; the matter is far too serious for that. But I suspect that you are going to need every bit of help you can get, and am willing to play my part."
They did not talk for a while, Miss Baines concentrating on her playing and John watching the dancers. Then she looked up, and smiled at Amanda who was dancing with her cousin Walter.
"Amanda is doing very well," she remarked. "She need not be afraid of making a fool of herself on Tuesday; it will not happen. She will be cast into the shade by Miss Swinford and Captain Morrison, however; unless he tires himself out tonight and falls ill again. They make a beautiful couple, don't you agree?"
They did, John noticed. He also became aware of the way his friend was smiling down at Eleanor, in a way he'd never seen him smile at a woman before. Eleanor appeared to be equally taken with him; John thought. She, too, was smiling, and blushing occasionally when Morrison said something to her. He could not hear what it was, but he could make a guess. Miss Baines was certainly a perceptive creature; but not being well acquainted with Eleanor and Morrison, all she could see was that they'd make a beautiful couple while John knew that the affair had no future attached to it. Morrison could not afford to marry; he ought not to allow himself to enter into a flirtation that would only end in heartbreak for both parties concerned. Maybe no harm was done yet; he'd drop a word of caution into his friend's ear later when they were alone. Morrison did not want for sense, he'd understand why he had better not raise expectations he had neither the intention nor the means of fulfilling. John would be a bad friend and a worse cousin if he allowed this to happen. For a start he'd take Morrison's place among the dancers, using Morrison's recent illness as an excuse to separate him from Eleanor for a while.
The interview with Morrison did not lead to the desired result. Morrison denied having flirted with Eleanor; she was a very likeable girl, he said, and he had acted accordingly. He was certain Miss Swinford did not set too much store by his attentions; after an acquaintance of only a few days she could not have any serious expectations regarding him. However, in order to satisfy John, he'd take care not to let his civility go too far. With this, John had to be content.
On Sunday, Clara went to church with the Gilberts, which turned out to be an excellent opportunity of watching the villagers. The party from Colby Hall also attended, as did the Normans; even young Mr Norman appeared to have recovered sufficiently from his influenza to attend the church service. From her vantage point in the Gilbert family pew, Clara could observe him without being noticed and did so to the best of her ability; guiltily aware that she ought to pay more attention to Mr Gilbert's excellent sermon. It certainly deserved more of her attention than she could give, and Clara hoped no one noticed that her thoughts were far from Mr Gilbert's lecture.
Mr Norman was dressed elegantly, and looked rather out of place in Colby Green. His attire would not draw anyone's attention in Bond Street, Clara presumed nor would it in Bath, she added to herself but it did not match his surroundings in a quiet Shropshire village. She wondered what the meaning of this might be why he did not choose to dress himself according to local custom. Even Mr Summers and Mr Colby, undoubtedly members of the fashionable set, did so their clothes, though made by a first-rate London tailor if Clara was any judge, were quite suitable for country wear. Maybe Mr Norman cared little for anyone's opinion, or he wished to demonstrate that he had no desire to belong to the village, to be accepted as a member of this rural community. Clara wished she could speak to him so she could draw a picture of his character, but this probably had to wait until Tuesday. Mr Norman was pale and in spite of his tall frame and athletic build he did not look altogether healthy, which appeared to corroborate the rumour concerning his recent illness. This would be a pity, because Clara had come to the conclusion that he was the most likely suspect. She remembered that he had not taken to his bed until the morning after the attacks, however, and recovered her optimism. There was still a possibility of him having committed the crimes before he'd fallen ill. Nothing had happened during his illness, after all, which also pointed in this direction.
It was not that he had the outward appearance of a dangerous criminal. Clara knew that the notion of being able to judge people by their looks was entirely ridiculous, but surely there were one or two signs one could go by? Mr Norman, in spite of his size and build, looked quite harmless, yet Amanda had told her that his bad name was well deserved. A pity, Clara thought, for Ernest Norman was not an ill-looking young gentleman. But for his nasty reputation he might have been a favourite with the ladies in the neighbourhood, but naturally one could not take a liking to a man known for his dishonesty. All in all, she reflected, the Normans were not the most pleasant of families. A drunkard father, a social-climbing stepmother who in all appearance did not take her marriage vows all too seriously, and a son with a penchant for crime. It was no wonder that Captain Gilbert had suspected young Mr Norman at once. But what they needed was evidence, and so far they had none. Ruefully, Clara became aware that her mind was indeed far removed from what she ought to be thinking in church.
After service, Mr Gilbert joined his family at Antigua Lodge for luncheon. He humoured his cousin Walter, who had shown some interest in discussing today's scripture text with him, and once coffee had been served he suggested a walk before he had to return to the village.
"Oh yes, do let us go!" Amanda cried. "It would be a sin to be sitting inside in such glorious weather as this!"
Mr Gilbert laughed good-humouredly at his sister's outburst, merely remarking dryly that he had thought himself the family expert in theological matters but had obviously been mistaken.
"And where shall we walk, then?" he asked.
"How about the old hermitage?" Clara suggested. "You did promise to show it to me, if you remember."
"So I did," Mr Gilbert said and turned to his brother. "What do you think? Shall we take the ladies to the Hermitage?"
Captain Gilbert frowned on the idea at first, but finally agreed with it. Hermitage Wood was harmless enough during the day, he supposed, and since Miss Baines was bent on seeing the ruins of the old hermit's cell the sooner she saw it the better it would be.
Clara laughed at his lack of enthusiasm. "I am by no means addicted to the idea, Captain Gilbert," she pointed out. "If you can think of a more suitable destination for our walk, do not hesitate to say so you are much better acquainted with this place than I am. I merely made the suggestion because it was the only place I could think of."
"The hermitage is just as good a place as any other, Miss Baines, and since you wish to see it we shall lose no more time," Captain Gilbert replied blandly. Something was wrong with him, Clara thought. He had not insulted her for an entire day except for his suggestion that she would be nagging him if they did not go to the hermitage, that was, but even that was not up to his usual standards.
"Am I meddling again, Captain?" she asked him, allowing her amusement to show.
"Do you think you will have the opportunity, Miss Baines?" he retorted.
"Who knows? I'll certainly keep a lookout for one," Clara laughed.
She actually had the nerve to laugh at him! It was a novel experience, and John was not certain whether he liked it. Girls usually reacted quite differently to him; they simpered and tried to attract his attention with every trick at their disposal. They took in every word he said, were quick to agree with whatever opinion he uttered, and made a nuisance of themselves by depending on him for their entertainment and comfort. How could anyone take such a woman seriously? Yet this was what he had often encountered when in company with ladies and, John reflected, it had probably made him expect admiration from every woman he met. He had not thought himself given to conceit, but probably he did have a higher self-esteem than was good for him. Miss Baines was a refreshing change. It probably took more than a flashy uniform and tolerable wit to impress her. Not that she'd had either of that from him, he thought ruefully. He'd been only too happy to do away with the rags that had remained of his regimentals by the time he'd got home, and wasn't going to put on a uniform again until he had to rejoin his regiment. The things he'd seen during the retreat were such as had left him with no inclination towards witticism either. He'd recover, he was certain; he always had, but it was going to take a while yet. Miss Baines had certainly not seen him at his best.
They walked across the garden towards the small wrought-iron porch that opened to the path leading into Hermitage Wood. Miss Baines was walking ahead with Simon and Amanda, Eleanor was holding on to Morrison's arm which was not surprising, John thought, considering how she'd looked at him the night before. Still, Morrison appeared to be more cautious in his attentions to her than he had been the night before. Anyway, John reflected if Eleanor's brother saw nothing wrong with what was going on, it was not his place to interfere any more than he'd already done. John and his cousin Walter brought up the rear. Walter had not felt like joining them at first, but had not reckoned with Amanda's powers of nagging though she might call it her talent of persuasion, John suspected. As the path narrowed and led further into the thicket, there was no more room for a party of three to walk abreast of each other, and so Miss Baines somehow fell behind and ended up at John's side.
"This is a charming walk," she remarked to him. "I am quite happy I made the suggestion."
"The hermitage used to be one of our favourite spots around here when we were children," John told her. "So I quite agree. It brings back pleasant memories I haven't been here for ages."
"Your brother and sister told me all about it on our way to Colby Green," she replied. "What fun you must have had, climbing these trees and storming the castle! My own childhood appears rather flat in comparison."
"How so? Were there no other children in your neighbourhood with whom you could play?"
"There were some families with children; some of them girls, and I used to get along with them very well. But my mother's notions of propriety were very strict, and I had no brothers to lead me astray," Miss Baines replied with a smile.
Her comment made John laugh. "So it is a brother's fault if his sister misbehaves?"
"Only occasionally I am sure," Miss Baines replied.
"We always made very sure Amanda did not join us, so she could not get herself into a scrape," John pointed out.
"So she told me. How unkind of you, sir! Do not tell me you excluded her from your schemes because you did not wish her to get into trouble. You simply did not want her to join the fun for fear that she might spoil it."
"For someone who has not had the benefit of a brother's influence you appear to know a great deal about that species," John could not resist saying.
"It was a lucky guess, I suppose," Miss Baines replied. "Nothing more."
The hermitage was exactly as Mr Gilbert had described it. It was an overgrown ruin; not much frequented by the local population, thanks to the haunted reputation Hermitage Wood had. Yet someone must have been there not too long ago, Clara found. There were some broken twigs next to the path, above their heads, as if somebody had ridden through on horseback. Clara wondered whether she was the only one who'd noticed this; certainly no one had mentioned it. She waited until the rest of the party were on the opposite side of the ruin and then turned to Captain Gilbert.
"How far is it to the road from here?" she asked.
"No more than a hundred yards or so."
"Which direction?"
"Over there."
"Let's have a look at the shrubs in that direction, shall we? For either you have some enormous birds in Shropshire, or someone has passed through here on horseback." She did not wait for his answer but made her way into the thicket, and looked about. Again, she found broken twigs, indicating that someone must have been there before her. She pointed them out to Captain Gilbert as he caught up with her.
"I am beginning to think that the ruin would make a good hiding place," she said. "Anyone not quite bent on honest business could bide here until a carriage came along the road."
"I am not saying that it could not be so," Captain Gilbert said slowly, and Clara thought that she'd probably never see the day on which agreed wholeheartedly with something she said.
"But?" she asked.
"No but about it," Captain Gilbert said.
"It sounded as if you were going to make an objection, though. - Someone has made his way through the shrubs towards the road. Why would anyone do this and not use the path instead?"
"Why would he not use the path?" Captain Gilbert retorted. "It is not as if anyone saw him at night. No one comes here unless they have to; certainly no one does after dark. There used to be a gibbet by the roadside a couple of hundred yards away from the forest; the spot has an eerie reputation."
"Was that gibbet the spot where the first Hermitage Wood Highwayman ended his life?" Clara asked.
"He was hanged first, naturally," Captain Gilbert said. "Then his body was put on display."
"Gibbeting is a barbarous custom, I have always thought," Clara reflected. "Even criminals ought to have a decent burial. What point is there in continuing a man's punishment after his death?"
"I believe the point was to scare off other offenders," Captain Gilbert said.
"I'd say the mere fact that a crime was punishable by death would be enough to scare people off," Clara argued.
They reached the road. "I wonder if this was where Captain Morrison was held up," Clara said.
The question did not remain unanswered for long. The Captain had followed them through the thicket and stepped out onto the road.
"Been following the highwayman's footsteps, have you?" he asked. "Unless you only wished for some privacy, in which case you simply need to tell me and I'll be off."
"Miss Baines believes that the highwayman used the ruin as a hideout," Captain Gilbert said. "She thinks this is where you were held up."
"Well done, Miss Baines," Captain Morrison replied, looking about him. "This is the place, I think. I distinctly remember that tall oak tree over there."
Clara blushed, glad that at least one gentleman seemed to appreciate her contributions. "I thought it must have been," she said quietly. "I was not certain whether the victim was you or Mr Norman, but something must have happened here. One only needs to look at the shrubs to know that someone has been making their way through them, and why would anyone do so unless he had some mischief in mind? I do wonder what his clothes must have looked like by the time he got home. I cannot believe anyone could ride through the forest here and emerge without a rent or two in his overcoat."
She noticed Captain Gilbert's eyes on her; he was looking at her as if he could not quite believe that she had said what he'd just heard.
"It is the kind of thought that does come to a female's mind," she said apologetically. "Don't heed it; it is probably nonsense anyway."
Captain Gilbert and Captain Morrison exchanged a glance. Then, slowly, Captain Gilbert said, "I would not say the notion is nonsensical, Miss Baines. I believe you do have a point. We should try and find out whether anyone in the neighbourhood tore his overcoat lately."
"Provided he was foolish enough to keep it if he did," Clara pointed out, recovering from the shock of having Captain Gilbert agree with her. "I'd say he got rid of it."
"Where would we be without you, Miss Baines?" Captain Morrison asked. "Still, people do make foolish mistakes at times. Let's not dismiss the idea altogether, shall we? We might even inquire into the case of gentlemen's overcoats suddenly going missing."
"I am sure the village constable is already keeping an eye on this area, or I'd have made the suggestion before," Clara added. "Maybe now that we know where exactly the highwayman must have been lying in wait for someone to come along that road, he can concentrate on this area. Although I suppose it is a task he will not enjoy considering the reputation of this place."
"I'll tell my father what we found here," Captain Gilbert said, "and I am sure he will instruct the constable to that effect, if he hasn't already done so."
This had gone rather well, Clara thought, and so she got her list of suspects and showed it to Captain Gilbert when they got home.
"The Overtons?" he asked, looking at her in surprise. "Why did you put them on the list?"
"They won't find it difficult to get their hands on a farm horse," Clara told him. "Their bearing and accent is very gentleman-like, which was one thing Captain Morrison noticed about his attacker; and they are both tall and strong. I must say I do not think them the likeliest suspects; no one could be happier than me if we manage to prove that they are innocent."
"We'll make a push to clear them, then, so we can strike them off our list," Captain Gilbert said.
Clara smiled at his referring to the list as theirs, but did not say anything to draw his attention to it.
"Colby and Summers?" Captain Gilbert went on. "Why would either of them take up highway robbery?"
"Financial problems, maybe? Their lifestyle seems quite expensive to me. Amanda told me they hunt in the Shires doesn't that mean they'll have to keep several hunters? They also belong to the Fashionable Set, which must cost them a fortune."
"There's plenty of money in Waldegrave's coffers to pay for whatever expensive whim enters young Colby's head," Captain Gilbert told her.
"And Mr Summers?"
"I am not well acquainted with his family, so I do not know anything about the size of his income, but as far as I am informed Lady Waldegrave is very fond of him. Should he ever find himself in financial difficulties, all he needs to do is apply to her for assistance."
Captain Gilbert was not surprised to find Mr Norman on Clara's list he agreed with Clara that he was the likeliest suspect, considering his history of misconduct.
"I still think it would take a very cold-blooded sort man to hold up his own father, though," Clara said thoughtfully.
"Oh, he's ruthless enough when it suits his purpose," Captain Gilbert replied.
"So we will need to find out where he was and what he did that night," Clara mused. She had to try and get him to talk to her at the ball.
Captain Gilbert dismissed the other suspects on Clara's list. Mr Tisbury was not a very accomplished horseman and would not get away quickly enough, he told Clara. Mr Jenkins, the most prominent landowner in the neighbouring village, fit the description of the highwayman but had left Colby Green two weeks before the attacks to visit his ailing grandmother in Norfolk and had not returned yet. Mr Harwood had no access to firearms; his father, the vicar of the neighbouring village, disapproved of them and did not allow them in his house. Apart from that Mr Harwood would find it difficult to obtain a horse for the purpose; the vicar's old mare was in all probability too slow; besides everyone in the area knew her. Mr Morgan was dismissed on account of not being cunning enough; he also lacked the nerve to attempt such a thing.
"So we'll concentrate on those five," Captain Gilbert said. "Norman who is my prime suspect; the Overton brothers the unlikeliest pair; Colby and Summers though I cannot see why either of them should have anything to do with this. I tend to acquit Colby he doesn't fit the description too well; besides he's a crack shot. If he'd shot Morrison we'd be arranging his funeral now."
"But did the highwayman intend to kill Captain Morrison? I think he merely wished to incapacitate him for a while. Highway robbery is one thing; murder is quite another. He might well have aimed at the Captain's arm, not wishing to do him any permanent harm."
Captain Gilbert had to admit that this was a possibility to be taken into account, and Clara left him feeling that he was beginning to take her seriously.
Amanda was in a fever of anticipation about Lady Waldegrave's ball, and Clara spent most of Monday helping Amanda decide what to wear patiently listening as she rattled off a list of her gowns, gloves, shoes, and jewellery, and offering advice whenever she thought Amanda would listen to it.
"I am sorry," Amanda said ruefully at one point, realising that there was a slight possibility Clara had other things to do than discuss every detail of her wardrobe with her. "It's just that I am so nervous; I want everything to be perfect!"
"You will look charming, Amanda," Clara assured her.
"Are you quite certain that I should wear the white gown and not the rose-coloured one?"
"White is the most suitable colour for a young lady attending her first ball," Clara said. "Even if it was not, you look lovely in that dress. The rose-coloured one is fine, too, but I am afraid Lady Waldegrave is a stickler for propriety; she would think it rather forward of you to wear colours at your first appearance in society."
"But it's only an informal country ball!"
"That makes it even more important that you should be everything that is proper," Clara reminded her. "Lady Waldegrave is likely to tell her entire acquaintance if you take one false step. Not literally, of course," she added hastily when a look of panic crossed Amanda's face. "You have nothing to fear in that respect, as you know. But remember that Lady Waldegrave will be able to smooth your way into Society when you go to London next year. You had better try to oblige her notions of what is right for a girl of your age."
Amanda nodded. "I will," she promised.
Clara herself had no thought to waste on her attire for the ball. She had only brought one evening dress that was fine enough to be worn at a ball, and did not have much choice in the matter. It was a gown her uncle had given her for her twentieth birthday not long ago; a dress made of emerald green silk with yellow embroidery that, in a certain light, looked almost like gold. More than one girl in Mrs Blackwell's Seminary coveted the dress, Amanda being no exception; but Clara had succeeded in convincing her friend that it would not suit her colouring. It did suit Clara's, strangely enough. Considering how rarely she had met her uncle of late she wondered how he would have known what would become her, though it was not unlikely that Mrs Blackwell had given him a hint. Both the colour and the cut of the dress brought out the best in Clara, and the one time she had worn it at the Assembly Rooms in Bath she had made quite a hit.
Since the dress was elaborate enough in itself and her hair did not take kindly to experiments anyway Clara kept her hairstyle simple and orderly. There were no ringlets to relieve the severity of it; she merely braided her hair and fastened the braids on top of her head, holding them in place with a bandeau that matched her gown. A pearl necklace and bracelet and a fan rounded off her toilet, and Clara went downstairs to Lady Waldegrave's drawing room in the safe knowledge that while she was not going to be the belle of the ball surely that honour was going to be Miss Swinford's she was not going to be a wallflower either.
Clara certainly caused some sensation when she made her appearance. Lady Waldegrave looked her over with a practised eye, and announced that the gown had a definite London touch. Since this was where her uncle had in all likelihood bought it, Clara agreed that it was so.
"You do well to stay away from the debutantes' white and pastels," Lady Waldegrave said approvingly.
Clara agreed. Although she had been obliged to wear mostly white and pastels during her first season in Bath, she had given them up altogether by now, feeling that she was no longer of an age where anyone would mistake her for a debutante. She had no intention of looking like a dowd for the rest of her life.
"Are you Robert Baines' daughter?" Lord Waldegrave inquired of her.
"Yes, my lord. Were you acquainted with my father?"
"Slightly," his lordship admitted. "He was several years my junior, but naturally one met at official functions. A very pleasant man he was, I remember."
He then turned to Miss Swinford, and Clara was glad she was no longer required to discuss her father with her host. It brought back sad memories, and she preferred not to have them stirred up on an evening like this.
Before dinner was over, Clara had partners for the first two sets. Mr Swinford had been quick to secure her hand for the first two dances, and Mr Summers had begged for the honour of dancing the second set with her. Amanda had enjoyed the gratification of being singled out it was she who was to open the dance with Mr Colby; an honour she had not dreamt of but which pleased her to no end. Miss Swinford was to dance the first two with Captain Morrison, of course; Clara suspected that this had been settled between them long before they had even entered the carriage that had taken them to Colby Hall.
Clara had not had much opportunity of speaking to Mr Swinford, in spite of having stayed in the same house as he did for a couple of days by now. He was a shy and quiet gentleman, she believed, but once drawn out he became quite amusing, as Clara became aware during their dance. He confessed to preferring quiet evenings at home to attending functions such as this one, but admitted that he was enjoying himself very much; rather more, in fact, than he had expected. He was a good dancer, and they both appeared to their advantage on the dance floor. At least this was what Lady Gilbert told them when he brought Clara back to her seat next to her chaperon.
Mr Summers was just as agreeable a dancing partner as Clara had imagined him to be. Unlike Mr Swinford he possessed a great deal of self-assurance and address, and it was evident that he was accustomed to doing the pretty to his dancing partners. He was talking to her in an easy, slightly flirtatious manner, and Clara decided to play along with his game.
"You stand out tonight, Miss Baines," he said. "It is my firm belief that you are the most fashionable among the ladies present and the best-looking!"
Clara laughed. "I believe Lady Waldegrave puts me quite in the shade as far as fashion is concerned," she said. "As for being the best-looking lady, I never am. As long as Miss Swinford is in the same room as me, I cannot be the best-looking lady present. She is truly beautiful!"
"There is no doubt about that, but she lacks your charm Miss Baines," Mr Summers replied glibly. "It takes both to shine."
"Thank you, sir. And how many ladies exactly have received this compliment from you?"
"None today." Mr Summers grinned ruefully. "You are not taking me seriously, Miss Baines!"
"I am taking you very seriously sir. Why should I not, considering the highly gratifying compliments you have just offered me? But I do think that you, belonging to the fashionable set, must have attended many such festivities and offered many compliments of the same nature to dozens of ladies."
"Not dozens of ladies, Miss Baines," he protested. "Only the deserving ones."
"I am beginning to think you a practised flirt, sir."
"You are right in your assumption, and I am not ashamed to admit it. There is nothing wrong with setting up a flirt to enliven an evening."
"And there you wanted me to take you seriously! Do you attend Almack's occasionally, Mr Summers?"
"Only if I have to," Mr Summers replied. "The entertainment there is not quite to my taste. I prefer private parties. The company is usually better and so are the refreshments."
"Then why do people attend the assemblies there?"
"Because it's the thing to do, Miss Baines, and everyone does it. Why else?"
"I suppose this is as good a reason as any," Clara said. "Luckily gentlemen are not required to depend on Almack's for their entertainment, or your case would be quite desperate. I have been told you are a sportsman of some note, Mr Summers."
"Not as addicted to sports as others are, Miss Baines, but I manage to pass muster I hope. My cousin and I hunt; it is one of the great disadvantages of London that one cannot hunt from there. I can also drive a team tolerably well I believe."
"Do you hunt in the Shires, sir?"
"I often join my cousin in his hunting box in Leicestershire. But you do not want me to bore you with the stories of the famous runs we enjoyed last winter!"
"Oh no; I can see how much you would dislike that," Clara laughed.
"I would; there is nothing more contemptible than a man who will rattle on and show off his sporting prowess even though his audience takes no interest in these things."
"You wrong me, sir; I would hardly have suggested the topic if I did not take some interest in it. Are there any ladies in your acquaintance who hunt?"
"Not many; I know few whose riding skill allows them to do so."
"I'd say the side-saddle puts us at a disadvantage," Clara observed. "I have often thought so."
"I have never given the matter much thought, but I daresay you are right, Miss Baines."
Clara wondered how she could introduce the topic of the cost of keeping up a string of hunters without causing suspicion and, since she could think of no way to do so, decided to let the matter rest. Surely Captain Gilbert would know; he'd also know how many horses a man had to keep if he wished to hunt in the Shires. Instead she tried to find out more about Mr Summers' family in the hope of discovering a thing or two about his financial situation what was the source of his income?
"Do you have any brothers or sisters, sir?" she asked him.
"One brother and three sisters, Miss Baines."
"Oh! Indeed! I do wonder why they are not here today; did Lady Waldegrave not invite them?"
Mr Summers laughed. "I am the youngest of my family, Miss Baines, and the only one unmarried and at leisure to visit her."
A younger son then, Clara noted. Not that this meant anything; if the family fortune was large enough younger sons could well afford the elegancies of life. But it was an interesting thing to know nevertheless.
"Do they live far from here?" she inquired.
"Yes; it is rather far. My brother's estate is in Suffolk; two of my sisters are married to gentlemen in that county and one of them lives in London with her husband. However, it is not so much the distance between Colby Hall and Suffolk that keeps them away, but rather the fact that my aunt appears to be much fonder of me than she is of my siblings. I am a favourite with her, I believe; probably because I am the closest in age to my cousin."
It seemed natural and even prudent to Clara that Lady Waldegrave had often invited her nephew to act as a friend and playfellow to his cousin who, as far as she knew, was an only child. The scheme appeared to have worked too Mr Colby and Mr Summers had every appearance of being on the best of terms with each other; they treated one another in the same way as brothers would.
The dance ended, and with it Clara's opportunity to speak with Mr Summers. She returned to her seat next to Lady Gilbert, granted Captain Morrison the honour of dancing the next two dances with her, and tried to think of a way to attract Mr Ernest Norman's attention. She needed to become acquainted with him to form an opinion of his character, and felt that the easiest way to come by information was to flirt with him. But how to flirt with a man who had, so far, taken no notice of her?
John had been surprised to find that Miss Baines truly had it in her to look attractive. She did look stunning tonight, there was no denying it. While her wardrobe was, in general, elegant but demure, her ball gown was such as showed her off to the best advantage. It had to be her dress that had this effect, for he had not previously been aware of the sparkle in her eyes, or the grace of her bearing and figure. As for that, it was certainly of the kind that appealed to a man, he had to admit; and by the look of it he was not the only fellow present who had become aware of Miss Baines' qualities. She certainly did not lack dancing partners, and John found it impossible to catch some time with her. She probably was not making much of an effort in that direction, John thought ruefully, and knew that he had only himself to blame for that; though why he should feel any regret because of this he did not know. It was not as if he even liked her very much.
Although he had not given anyone reason to think so, he'd been rather looking forward to the ball; for as Miss Baines had said it was an excellent opportunity to mingle and find things out by chatting carelessly about this or that. It did not look as if this was what she was doing she appeared to be enjoying herself too much to be bent on anything of a serious nature, John reflected but he for one was not going to forget why he was here. Naturally he would also dance with a couple of girls; there was no way of avoiding that, but at least most of the local girls could be depended on to fawn over him and thereby boost his self-esteem, which was a thing Miss Baines would never do.
He danced the first two dances with Augusta Scott, a young lady from a neighbouring village whose family, like the Gilberts, was going to stay the night at Colby Hall so they did not have to travel home and risk meeting the highwayman in Hermitage Wood.
"At first I thought the notion was ridiculous, but my mother was in such a quake that Papa thought it would be better to accept Lady Waldegrave's invitation to spend the night in her house."
"So you are not afraid of the highwayman?"
"Captain Gilbert, we are not the likeliest victims, are we? Everyone knows my father has not a feather to fly with; so why pluck us when there are plumper pigeons to be had?"
There was something in what Miss Scott had said, John thought. It would be useless to rob someone well known for being permanently short of money; and since the highwayman was likely to be a local man he'd know that there would be no profit in holding up the Scotts.
"Naturally Mama disagrees with that notion. She thinks her pearls would offer enough temptation to the man; not to speak of my virtue." Miss Scott rolled her eyes. "If he had any such intentions, why did he only hold up men so far?"
John laughed. "I have no idea, Miss Scott," he replied.
As he took Miss Scott back to her anxious parent, he suddenly found himself face to face with Sarah Morgan, nee Yates. He'd been forewarned that she would also be at the ball but had hoped to be able to keep out of her way. A forlorn hope, as it turned out, for she was not willing to let him ignore her.
"Captain Gilbert! I had no idea you had returned from Spain!" she cried.
"Obviously I have, ma'am," John said, favouring her with the stiffest of bows. "How do you do, Mrs Morgan?"
"Why so formal all of a sudden?" Mrs Morgan demanded. "We used to be friends!"
"I am not certain your husband would approve if we continued our friendship in the same way as it was before your marriage," John said coldly.
"Oh, nonsense! Why should he worry?"
"Why indeed? I certainly won't give him a reason to do so, ma'am." John began to wonder whether he'd been blind. Had Sally always been so unprincipled as to see nothing wrong with continuing a flirt with a man other than her husband? He'd found her playful manner enchanting once, but now he merely found it annoying and decidedly off-putting. If she had married him instead of Morgan would she have been any different? Would he spend most of his days worrying what his wife was up to while he was off doing his duty Heaven only knew where? It was not a pleasant thought, but it did occur to him. Coming to think of it, he should have known it - Sally was the kind of woman who always needed attention and would go to any length to get it. Why had this never bothered him before? What had he ever seen in her?
"Tell me, Captain Gilbert," she said archly, giving him the saucy smile that had once charmed him, "who is the lady in that stunning green dress; the one who is dancing with Mr Summers?"
John did not need to look whom she meant. "Miss Baines, a friend of my sister's. She is staying with us at the moment."
Mrs Morgan eyed Miss Baines critically. "A pity," she remarked. "The gown is quite wasted on her, don't you think? Such a plain, insipid girl - if it weren't for that dress there'd be nothing at all remarkable about her."
For a moment, John was stunned at the spite in Mrs Morgan's tone of voice. Miss Baines had done nothing to offend her; they were not even acquainted, yet Mrs Morgan was bent on abusing her.
"You are quite mistaken, ma'am," he said, once he'd regained his composure. "Miss Baines is a remarkable young lady in many respects." For one, she has more brains than both you and your husband put together, he added silently. And she is not plain.
Mrs Morgan tittered unpleasantly. "Oh, I see!" she cried meaningfully. "Why, I do wish you very happy!"
"Again you are mistaken, Mrs Morgan," John replied, and took his leave of her. But the encounter left him amazed with himself. How had this inferior creature ever succeeded in making him fall in love with her? If he'd ever been truly in love, which he was beginning to doubt strongly. It had probably been her dazzling beauty, he suspected. Was he so easily fooled by outward appearances? Was he really so quick to jump to conclusions based on nothing but what people allowed him to see? It was a disturbing thought.
He walked over to his brother, who was waiting for his turn in the dance, and said, "I've had a lucky escape, Simon."
Simon, who'd noticed his encounter with Mrs Morgan, nodded. "You have," he agreed.
"I'm beginning to think my judgement at fault," John admitted.
"Many of us make the same mistake when a pretty face is involved," Simon replied. "Don't mind it, John. We live to learn, you know. I'm sure it won't happen to you again."
John laughed. It was strange that his younger brother should be so much wiser than he was, although his profession probably had a great deal to do with this. One could not be a clergyman without learning a thing or two about human nature.
"You sound as if you were my grandfather," he teased him.
Simon shook his head, grinning. "I am certain our respected grandfather used to employ saltier language than I do," he pointed out. "Sailors are not known for the refinement of their speech."
Since at that moment Lady Waldegrave was approaching him purposefully with a damsel in tow, their conversation was at an end. John allowed himself to be presented to Miss Watson and, knowing his duty, led her into the set.
Clara returned to her seat after having danced with Captain Morrison, and found Amanda there, positively glowing with happiness.
"Have you ever been to a ball as delightful as this one?" she demanded.
"Oh no," Clara dutifully replied. "It seems as if Lady Waldegrave's reputation is well founded."
"So far I have danced with Mr Colby, and Captain Morrison, and with Mr Fenton," Amanda recounted.
"And which of the gentlemen was the most amusing partner?" Clara asked.
"Do tell, Miss Gilbert," Captain Morrison laughed.
"Oh, you were without doubt," Amanda replied artlessly.
"You do not know how glad I am to hear this," Captain Morrison said. "Positively relieved, in fact I can think of nothing worse than boring my dancing partners at a ball."
"Were you afraid that this might happen, Captain?" Clara asked him.
"I have not often had the pleasure of ladies' company these past months," Captain Morrison replied, grinning. "I might have lost my touch."
With these words he bowed and went off in search of Miss Scott, who was to be his partner for the next two dances.
"I do hope I will not have to sit out a single dance," Amanda said, fanning herself. "This is so much fun!"
"You won't," Clara promised. "Not if you do not want to."
Her prediction turned out to be correct. As the set for the next two dances was beginning to form, they found themselves approached by Mr Ernest Norman, who asked Amanda to dance with him. Amanda, though not happy about this, could do nothing but accept him unless she wished to spend the rest of the evening sitting down, and was led away to the set. Captain Gilbert, who had witnessed the scene and Amanda's discomfiture, immediately asked Clara to dance with him; no doubt in order to keep an eye on his sister. While Clara could find no fault with his intention to protect Amanda she did resent the fact that he had obviously only asked her to dance with him because she'd been close at hand, and not because he'd felt any particular inclination for it. Dancing in the same set as Mr Norman and Amanda did give her the chance to flirt with that gentleman, however, and she made use of it whenever she could. Even Captain Gilbert noticed that she was giving Mr Norman more attention than she gave him.
"I thought you were dancing with me, Miss Baines," he remonstrated. "Yet you appear to be dancing with Norman instead."
"Do you want information about him or do you not, Captain Gilbert?" Clara retorted. "If I play my cards well he may ask me to dance the next two with him, and he'll take me in to supper as well. Plenty of time to be discussing everything that might possibly be of interest to us, don't you agree? He is more likely to answer my questions than he is to answer yours."
It went much against the grain with him to agree with her Clara noticed, but in the end he did. Nor had she been wrong when she had assumed that Mr Norman would do just what she had wanted him to. The good thing about rakes was that one could always depend on them to appreciate female advances and act accordingly. Not that she'd been too obvious in her approach an encouraging smile, followed by a demurely lowered gaze, and Mr Norman had been quite eager to pursue their acquaintance by asking her to dance the next two dances with him. Gentlemen were quite easy to handle if one knew how.
Ernest Norman's conduct did not immediately advertise his villainous propensities; but then Clara had not expected them to. He chatted with her in the practised, easy manner that a man must acquire after years spent in Polite Society, and was rather entertaining. He expressed his astonishment that he had not met Miss Baines before, and his regret that she had so far been denied the pleasure of a London Season; an omission that ought to be remedied before long, he said. He would not hear of her being content where she was; the way he saw it Clara had never had an opportunity to compare Bath to London, and was only content with what she had because she knew little else.
"I am sure you would come to prefer London if only you had a chance to experience it," he said.
Clara laughed. "For someone so fond of the metropolis it must be very dull to be staying in the country."
"Oh, it does not do to overindulge oneself," Mr Norman said dismissively. "There are times in a man's life when the peace and quiet of a country setting does him a world of good."
"Indeed your mother did mention that you have been ill recently," Clara remarked, implying that she had misunderstood his comment and did not think monetary troubles were at the root of his sudden fondness of the country. "You have completely recovered by now, I hope."
"I would not be here tonight if I had not," Mr Norman replied.
"That would have been a pity you must have been longing for entertainment."
"Not while I was ill," Mr Norman laughed.
"Not then, I suppose, but when you got well again," Clara insisted. "Have your mother and father recovered from the shock they suffered last week?"
"The hold-up? I believe so; though they prefer to spend the night here to travelling home in the dark."
"So does Lady Gilbert. I do not blame her." Clara achieved a shudder. "I found the prospect of travelling back to Antigua Lodge after the ball extremely daunting; and I feel profoundly grateful to Mr Colby for having hatched this scheme of housing the guests after the ball."
"If it had not been for that offer Lady Waldegrave might have been obliged to call the whole thing off," Mr Norman said. "People would not have come. Complete nonsense, of course. Ten to one the highwayman has already taken up quarters somewhere else. I, for one, will go home tonight. I never sleep well in a strange bed, and am certain that I will reach my father's house unmolested, so there is no point in putting Lady Waldegrave to additional trouble."
Clara stared at him, wide-eyed and hopefully admiring. "You are very brave, sir," she managed to say, hoping that she was not taking the act too far. However, Mr Norman did not seem to find any fault with her open admiration of his bravery.
During supper, Clara managed to extract some more information from him. By skilful and unobtrusive questioning she found out that he had arrived in Shropshire about a week before her own arrival; that he had spent most of his days riding around the estate with his father's steward a statement easy to check on, Clara thought and that he had fallen ill the night the attacks on his father and Captain Morrison had occurred. He did not know yet how long his stay in Shropshire would last; that depended on too many factors to make an accurate estimate. Clara supposed the "factors" in question had something to do with Mr Norman's debts in Town and how quickly his father could be coaxed into settling them, but naturally did not say so. When Mr Norman took her back to her chaperon and took his leave of her, they were on almost friendly terms; a fact that appeared to displease Captain Gilbert. At least he looked as if it did.
John kept a close watch on Miss Baines as she was dancing with Ernest Norman; and once again admired her spirit and the grace with which she moved. So did Norman, apparently, John thought, and the idea almost made him grit his teeth. It did not escape his notice that Miss Baines favoured Norman with the gushing show of admiration most likely to make him talk, and he hoped that she was merely doing so in order to get as much information out of him as she could, and not because she really admired the fellow. While one had to give her credit for her good sense, John did not set much store by Amanda's story that Miss Baines was used to dealing with men, and he would hate to find her entangled with a man of Norman's reputation, especially since his mother was responsible for her for the duration of her stay in Shropshire.
When she arrived back among their party on Norman's arm, he wanted to ask her to dance with him so he could ask her about the outcome of her investigations, but was forestalled by his brother, who handed her a glass of lemonade.
"Thank you, Mr Gilbert! You are an angel!" she said, taking the glass from him.
Simon laughed. "Not yet, Miss Baines," he replied. "Merely aspiring to be one."
"An angel in training then," Miss Baines retorted. "And you are doing very well."
Simon did not reply to this, but instead asked Miss Baines to dance with him, a request she readily granted. Finding himself thwarted, John asked his cousin Eleanor to dance with him, only to find that she was dancing with Morrison again. It did not look as if Morrison was going to keep his promise to stay away from Eleanor, John thought darkly, but decided not to meddle any more. He had made his opinion known to Morrison, and would leave it at that. He knew him to be an honourable fellow; he would not take this flirtation any further than was seemly. Besides, Eleanor had a brother who was supposed to handle such problems. If Walter did not mind, there was no reason why John should object.
Once again, Lady Waldegrave introduced him to a suitable partner, and he led the girl into the set deciding that he would talk to Miss Baines the next day, as soon as they had an opportunity for private speech.
John had not been idle at the ball. He had made use of every chance he got of repairing to the card room, and over a game of cards or two he'd carelessly chatted about this and that, thereby acquiring some useful knowledge about the suspects' whereabouts on the evening the attacks had taken place. Morrison's batman, Collins, had done the same with the servants at his instigation, and his father's groom had taken it upon himself to interview the staff in Lord Waldegrave's stables - in a perfectly unobtrusive and amiable manner, naturally. John knew that both household staff and stable hands were more likely to open up to someone of their own order and would not take kindly to their betters trying to question them. In a gossiping way they'd tell Collins and Warren things they'd not even dream of mentioning before John, or his father. Nor would they ever approach the magistrate if they thought something fishy was going on under their masters' roofs they'd be much too afraid to lose their livelihood, and besides betraying one's masters was not an honourable thing to do. Servants had a code of honour as rigid as any gentleman's, maybe even more so, and one had to tread carefully if one wished to get them to talk. Yet even the most exemplary of servants enjoyed a good gossip, so there was a real chance of Collins and Warren's efforts being successful.
They'd been very skilled in their interrogation methods it seemed, for by this means they had found out that Colby had dined away from home on that particular evening. Mr Harwood, his former tutor and vicar of the village of Wolverton, had invited him to his house, and Mr Colby had been happy to oblige. Summers had remained at Colby Hall. He'd dined with his uncle and aunt and had retired to bed at about eleven o'clock, as Collins had been able to find out from that gentleman's valet. So far, so good but Lady Waldegrave kept Town hours, as John knew. They would not have dined before eight o'clock, so there would have been time enough for Summers to attack Morrison and return to Colby Hall. The attack on Norman senior had taken place some time after midnight again, Summers could have made it to Hermitage Wood and back. However, John's groom had not been able to discover anything about a horse having gone missing from the stables. For a moment John considered the possibility Miss Baines had mentioned that the highwayman might have provided himself with someone else's horse but dismissed it as being too complicated.
No one had been able to tell him anything about the Overtons. They did not move in the same circles as Lady Waldegrave and her set, and John realised that he'd be obliged to pay them a visit one of these days. He was certain Amanda would cooperate, in order to regale her less fortunate contemporaries with an account of the ball. Miss Baines, too, might turn out to be useful and she might enjoy the walk to Lane Farm, which was a very pleasant one.
After having had a talk with his groom and his friend's batman, John went to bed. It was late, and it had been a long day, so John fell asleep almost before his head hit the pillow, and did not stir until a servant came into his room with a cup of tea and some bread and butter to keep him going until breakfast. This repast would be served at eleven o'clock, the servant informed him, and so John decided to get dressed and go for a walk in the garden to think things over. Now that he was fresh and rested, he might be able to make sense of his discoveries.
It looked as if Colby had an alibi. Unlike Lady Waldegrave the vicar of Wolverton and his family had no inclination to high fashion, and dined early. Colby would have been with his hosts before Morrison had been attacked, and if he had not committed the first hold-up that evening it was unlikely that he would have committed the second. His name was cleared; he was no longer on the list of suspects.
Summers would have had the opportunity to attack travellers on the road through Hermitage Wood on both occasions, but not without a horse. They would have to find out whether it had been possible for him to acquire one, with no one being the wiser, but John thought that was pretty unlikely. It could not happen in stables as well-kept as Lord Waldegrave's, he thought. Someone would have noticed.
That left the Overtons, and Norman. John wished he could talk to Miss Baines to learn what, if anything, she had been able to discover from him. As if that wish of his had in some way summoned her, Miss Baines suddenly came around the corner of the house, and upon recognising him she joined him.
"Good morning, Miss Baines," he said, not a little startled at her turning up just when he had been thinking of her. "Up already?"
"I always wake early, no matter how late the previous night was," she replied. "So I went for a walk, not wishing to rouse your sister. It has been an exciting evening for her and she needs to rest."
"If I know anything about Amanda she must have kept you awake for hours with her chatter," John said.
"Not for hours; she was too tired for that. But she did chat for a while not that I minded very much; I enjoy listening to her. What a lucky coincidence that we should meet here, and at this hour! We could not wish for a better opportunity to compare our findings, don't you agree?"
"Absolutely, Miss Baines. I have just thought the same thing. Have you been successful in your investigations?"
"I believe I have."
"Did Ernest Norman cooperate with your efforts?"
"More than he would have cooperated with yours, I believe." She smiled. "Once I'd given him the impression that I did not find him altogether repulsive he became quite talkative."
"I suppose I must be careful once you start giving me that impression," John said, grinning.
"Only if you have something to hide, sir." She smiled slightly, acknowledging his jest as such.
"Mr Norman did not succeed in allaying my suspicions, I have to say. I believe he is in financial difficulties, and he told me he fell ill the night the attacks happened. Not in the evening, I could not help but notice."
"This tallies with what my father has been able to discover from his valet the other day," John said. "Norman apparently went to bed with no sign of illness, but was found in a high fever the next morning."
"When do the Normans dine? Do you happen to know? We must not forget that Captain Morrison was attacked before six o'clock, and need to determine whether it was possible for Mr Norman to get home in time for dinner after the assault."
"I have no idea as to when the Normans usually dine, but I do think I can wrestle a dinner invitation out of Mrs Norman to discover that," John said. "Even a tκte ΰ tκte dinner if I was so inclined, but I've never held with foolhardiness."
"You are pretty sure of yourself sir although I suppose in this instance you have reason," Miss Baines told him. "And I do not see why you should not succeed if you applied the same methods to Mrs Norman as I have used with her stepson. - Anyway, Mr Norman is still on our list, I am certain. For all we know his influenza may simply have been a way of dispelling suspicion. His valet would hardly incriminate him, so we must take his statement with a pinch of salt. But Mr Norman is by no means the only suspect. Mr Summers, I am afraid, is not above suspicion either."
"He did have the opportunity to commit both attacks," John admitted. "But none of Lord Waldegrave's horses went missing that night; or so the stable hands say."
"But if Mr Summers rode out on his own horse, why should anyone think of it as missing?" Miss Baines retorted. "A missing horse is one that has not been accounted for. No one will miss it as long as it is known to be with its owner; and he may well have come up with a tale to account for it not being there. He might have told the stable hands that he'd left it with the blacksmith, or something of that kind. No one would question that, would they?"
Miss Baines had a point. "Maybe he accompanied his cousin to Wolverton and stopped in Hermitage Wood on his way back," John reflected. "We must find out whether this is what he did."
"I will talk to Mr Colby if I get the chance," Miss Baines promised.
In the end, Clara did not get the chance to engage Mr Colby in conversation. They were just sitting down at the breakfast table when Lord Waldegrave's butler came in and begged Sir Cecil Gilbert to come into the library, for there was someone with an urgent message for him. With a sigh, Sir Cecil rose and followed the butler outside, only to return some minutes later, to tell his family to hurry since he was obliged to return home as quickly as possible.
"But my dear," Lady Gilbert protested. "What can be important enough to offer our hostess such an intolerable snub?"
"I am sure I have no wish to insult Lady Waldegrave, and indeed I beg her forgiveness," Sir Cecil replied. He hesitated for a moment, but then he said, "I suppose it will be all over the village already, and so I might as well tell everyone here. The highwayman has made another attack. The Morgans were assaulted on their way home from the ball last night and robbed of all their valuables."
"Good heavens!" Lady Waldegrave cried. "They should have stayed here; I did invite them to do so, but Mrs Morgan insisted on going home! I will never be able to forgive myself for not insisting on their spending the night here!"
"I hope no one was hurt," Lord Waldegrave remarked.
"No; though naturally they have suffered a severe shock. You do understand, sir, that I must attend to the matter immediately."
"Why, certainly," Lord Waldegrave said. "We must lose no time maybe this time the culprit can be apprehended."
"I hope so," Sir Cecil said. "It is likely that the Morgans or their coachman have been able to see enough of the man to identify him."
"It is to be hoped, certainly," Lady Waldegrave said. "One hardly dares stir out of doors these days! What a dreadful thing to happen! I must call on Mrs Morgan to see if there is anything I can do for her!"
Clara was racking her brains, trying to figure out which of their suspects might have had an opportunity to attack the Morgans. It seemed foolhardy to assault a carriage after a ball, when so many people were on their way home and might come to each other's aid. Most of the guests had stayed the night, but there had been several who'd preferred to go home. Mr Norman, for example
Mr Norman, who'd had a perfect opportunity to commit the robbery. His parents had stayed at Colby Hall, and to the servants in Risborough House it would have made no difference whether he came home half an hour sooner or later. No one would have been the wiser. Mr Norman had left before the Morgans had, she remembered. Practically everyone had; Mrs Morgan being busy making herself agreeable to her hostess and keeping her carriage waiting outside. It was not far to Risborough House Mr Norman could have done it. He might also have hidden a change of clothes somewhere, dressed, and then waited for the Morgans to appear.
On the other hand, in the bustle at the stables at the end of such a function as this was considerable. Horses were put to, coachmen and grooms would hurry about Mr Summers would not have found it impossible to get himself a horse and ride off to lie in wait for the Morgans somewhere. Or one of the Overton brothers, who had not been at the dance at all, had ambushed them. Whoever it had been, he was unlikely to stop his criminal career unless he was made to. They'd had a reprieve, nothing more. The man would not stop before he was caught, and it seemed as if he was going to any length to remain unknown.
Her eyes met Captain Gilbert's, and she was almost certain that his thoughts ran along the same lines as hers. He, too, had realised that Ernest Norman was their prime suspect now, and that they had to do what they could to prove his guilt before something worse than robbery happened. She wondered how Captain Gilbert felt about Mrs Morgan now whether the thought of her plight upset him. He did not look as if it did, but then Captain Gilbert was not the kind of man to let his feelings show; at least not when in company. He agreed with his father that they had better return to Antigua Lodge immediately, and offered to accompany him to the Morgans' house in Wolverton to interview their coachman while his father spoke to the Morgans.
Mrs Norman, in a trembling tone of voice, appealed to her husband, begging him to take her home immediately for she was feeling a migraine coming on. Within minutes the breakfast party dispersed, each of its members feeling a sudden urge to return to the safety of their homes.
John and his father only accompanied the ladies of their family to their front door, and then immediately set out to Wolverton to speak to Mr and Mrs Morgan. John was surprised at his reaction to the news. A year ago, he'd have hurried to Sally's side the moment he'd been told about her misfortune, and would have cursed himself for not having been there in time to prevent it. Now, his feelings were no more acute than they would have been if any other of his neighbours had fallen victim to the highwayman.
They found Mrs Morgan sitting in her drawing room, surrounded by anxious neighbours who had come to offer her comfort but secretly wished to know all about the horrifying experience she had undergone, glad that it had not been them. She obliged them with obvious satisfaction John thought that it was a fortunate coincidence that she should have been robbed of her jewellery just as the novelty of her marriage had worn off. It enabled her to take centre-stage for a while longer. If she was lucky she'd be expecting a child before the interest in the highwayman had waned. John chided himself for his cynicism, but again he wondered at himself and at how quickly his feelings for Mrs Morgan had undergone a change. There still was a certain amount of bitterness, he supposed which must cause those unpleasant thoughts that entered his mind.
It was decided that John would speak to Mrs Morgan; Sir Cecil said dryly that the lady would no doubt prefer it that way, and John soon found out that this was so. She made good use of the opportunity of treating him to some amateur theatricals putting her handkerchief to her dry eyes occasionally, and permitting herself a shudder now and then. If Morgan had not married her, she might have considered a career on the stage.
"First of all, Mrs Morgan, we must know what has been stolen," John told her, doing his best to sound brisk and businesslike. "For we might catch the villain in the attempt of selling his booty; or identify him by finding your property in his possession."
"He stole my jewels," Mrs Morgan said, in a tearful voice. "The diamond set my husband gave me as a wedding present! And most unkind he has been about it!"
"I would not call highway robbery an act of kindness in any case," John said wryly.
"Oh, I was not talking about the highwayman but my husband; he has been entirely unsympathetic - telling me it was my own fault for wearing the diamonds when everyone knew that there was a highwayman about! As if I could have known that this would happen! He my husband did ask me to wear my garnets for the ball. Garnets! With that gown! What a figure I must have cut!"
John assured her that she could not have foreseen the robbery, and that she had been very right to wear the diamonds.
"Can you give me a description of your diamonds, ma'am?" he returned to the matter at hand.
She could; and a more detailed one than John could have possibly wished for. He wrote it down on one of his visiting cards, and promised to pass it on to his father and the village constable.
"I do hope they will be able to find them," Mrs Morgan said. "A wedding present it was expensive, naturally, but it is their sentimental value that truly makes them irreplaceable!"
Here, the handkerchief was put to use again, and Mrs Morgan's neighbours were quick to comfort her. John waited until she had recovered from her fit of dejection, and then asked her whether she had seen the highwayman.
"I did not see much of him," she confessed. "It was quite dark. All I could see was that he was wearing some kind of mask a neckcloth or something tied around the lower part of his face. He was a tall man, I believe."
This was not new to John, who had hoped for something more substantial; something that might give them a chance to identify the man.
"Did you notice anything remarkable about him? Anything that might distinguish him from other men? Did you recognise his voice, for example?"
"His voice was some kind of growl," Mrs Morgan told him. "Not his natural voice, I believe."
This was something, at any rate, John thought. It meant that the highwayman had been afraid of being recognised by his voice; that he was someone they knew.
"His clothes?" he prompted.
"All I could see was a dark cloak," Mrs Morgan said. "It covered him entirely except for the arm he used for pointing his pistol at us."
"Did you spot any details there?"
"None, I am afraid. As I said, it was dark, and I was frightened I did not dare look at the man for I was afraid he'd shoot me if I looked too closely."
For once, she was not exaggerating, John thought. Any lady would have been frightened in those circumstances. He said what was proper, thanked her for her cooperation, and then accepted a cup of tea to while away the time until his father had finished his interview with Morgan.
Mr Morgan turned out to be no more helpful than his wife he'd been distracted by his wife's hysterics, he said, and in between trying to calm her and dealing with the highwayman he had not been able to discern any distinctive features of the highwayman or his horse. The coachman could tell them about the horse he corroborated the facts they already knew about the animal but there was nothing new they could use to identify the criminal.
Sir Cecil swore as they turned their steps homeward again. "We have nothing to go by," he said. "Whoever has robbed Norman and the Morgans is a clever fellow too clever to be caught."
"Even the cleverest criminal makes mistakes," John tried to soothe his father. "Sooner or later he will betray himself."
"But that means that there will be more attacks," his father pointed out. "And to be sure we can do without those."
"Maybe someone in the village has seen something," John suggested. "Let us talk to Lord Waldegrave's stable hands. I am almost certain it must have been one of the guests at the ball who else knew that the Morgans would be going that way, and that they were going to be the only ones going in that direction at that time?"
Sir Cecil nodded. "I do not think they will know anything, but it will give people the impression that we are hard at work to solve the problem," he said.
"Where does Waldegrave keep his farm horses? Not in the same stables as his hunters, I believe," John wondered. "Most stable hands would have been busy there, leaving the workhorses unattended. I will have a look at the spot where the hold-up happened. Maybe we can find some clues there."
"I am glad you are here to help me in this matter," Sir Cecil admitted. "I really do not know what I'd do without your assistance."
It was not as if his assistance had made much of a difference so far, John thought ruefully but did not say so. He was as baffled as his father, and although he acted as if he still expected to catch the highwayman soon he was by no means sure.
Clara kept herself busy by netting a purse, thereby gaining Lady Gilbert's praise for her calm good sense and industriousness. The compliment made Clara blush, for she felt it was not entirely deserved she was by no means as calm or industrious as Lady Gilbert appeared to think she was. When Sir Cecil arrived at home, she ostentatiously occupied herself with her needlework, but took care not to miss anything he told his wife. It was not much; Lady Gilbert had no wish for detailed information in the matter. Clara was keen to know more, but while they were in company she could not ask Captain Gilbert to let her in on what they had discovered. Female modesty was often a nuisance, she felt.
However, she had an opportunity of speaking with him later, when she was sitting in the drawing room before dinner. He entered the room, found her alone and sat down next to her. He looked tired and worried, Clara thought, and said so.
With a surprised look, he said, "I don't mind admitting that it is so, Miss Baines. I am not yet back to form, I suppose, and I do realise that if we do not apprehend the criminal there will be more attacks which worries me a great deal." He sighed. "Believe it or not, but this used to be a very quiet place; often too quiet for my taste, but I wish it still were. I'd infinitely prefer to be bored to tears."
"I am sure you are not the only one who feels this way," Clara said.
"Are you sorry you came here?"
"No, I am not; I believe I can make myself useful here."
"By interfering with my father's investigations?"
"Just when I thought we were getting along at last," Clara sighed. She really had been thinking Captain Gilbert had an agreeable side to his character, and had wished he'd allow it to show more often.
"I do appreciate what you have done so far," Captain Gilbert said hurriedly. "And the Lord knows we need every help we can get. To be honest, right now I feel as if we will never find that highwayman. There is nothing absolutely nothing to give us a clue as to how to go on."
"Is it that bad? Did Mr and Mrs Morgan see nothing that might help you?"
"Nothing at all. Nothing we do not already know, that is."
"Oh dear. We must continue with what little we have then," Clara mused. "Did you try and find out about that torn coat?"
"We don't even know a coat was torn, Miss Baines."
"It might have been though. You are not answering my question."
He laughed. "Has anyone ever fobbed you off?"
"Many have tried, none have succeeded. How about that coat? Since we have nothing else to investigate at the moment, it might be worth looking into, wouldn't you agree?"
"In fact, I did make Collins my friend Morrison's man inquire among the servants in Colby Hall last night," Captain Gilbert said. "Without success, at least as far as torn coats were concerned."
"Maybe his methods of questioning were not skilled enough," Clara suggested. "Or he asked the wrong people."
"He knows what he's doing. Collins is a good man to be trusted with such a task - Morrison often makes him inquire among the men of his company whenever there is trouble of some kind."
"He is probably not very popular among the men then," Clara observed. "No one likes talebearers; and rather than letting them find things out one is tempted to hush everything up. This is how things are at Mrs Blackwell's, at any rate."
Captain Gilbert laughed. "Are you suggesting that there are similarities between a schoolgirls' seminary and a regiment of soldiers?"
"Are there none? No petty jealousies, no violent rows starting for the most trifling of reasons? Is there no man among them who attempts to bully the others? None who thinks he is above his company? None who tries to push his load on someone else's shoulders, and who will go to any length to avoid work? You are to be envied, sir. I had no idea life in the military was so peaceful!"
Captain Gilbert laughed. "Yes; but for that trifling conflict on the Peninsula we'd be living in Paradise. But I am afraid a company of soldiers has more in common with a seminary for young ladies than I'd care to admit."
"I wonder whether Collins managed to talk to Mr Norman's valet Mr Ernest Norman's I mean. He did not stay the night; therefore his valet must have stayed at home. It would have been interesting to discover what his opinion regarding torn overcoats might be." Clara suspected that Captain Gilbert was trying to divert her attention again, and returned to the subject at hand.
"You are right Norman went back home while his parents did not! There is nothing for it; I must ride over to Risborough House and try to find out when he got home. But how to go about it I do not know. I do not want them to think that I suspect him; it might warn him that we are on his track."
"You wish to speak to Mr Norman's coachman, to see whether you can find out more about the highwayman's horse. What could be more natural? Even more natural that you should call on the lady of the house to see how she is doing. Maybe your mama wishes you to carry a recipe to Mrs Norman?"
"A recipe?"
"A recipe for fish pie, maybe. Or she wants to share an embroidery pattern with Mrs Norman, which you very obligingly took with you, having business to perform at Risborough House. Speaking of embroidery, I believe I must embroider some slippers for my uncle. His birthday is approaching."
"Indeed?"
"Why yes, I'd say it will be December before I know it." Clara grinned. "I will walk to the village shop tomorrow to buy some threads for the embroidery; who knows? I might pick up some useful gossip."
"You are a worthy niece to the General," Captain Gilbert said approvingly. "You know a thing or two about reconnaisance at any rate."
"Let us hope it will do us some good," Clara replied.
Since at that moment Lady Gilbert and Amanda joined them, their opportunity for private speech was over. It was too bad, Clara thought, for she had just felt that she was beginning to enjoy talking to the Captain.
Mrs Wilson, the shopkeeper, greeted Clara with as much pleasure as she would have displayed upon encountering an old friend. Clara explained her errand to her, and Mrs Wilson was happy to oblige. She had threads of the best quality, she assured Clara, and readily brought them to her for inspection. Clara took her time in choosing patterns and threads for her embroidery, and skilfully led the conversation to the highwayman's latest deed. Mrs Wilson did not need much in the way of prompting; she most readily discussed the matter with her customers, and by listening carefully while pretending to concentrate on her errand she found out what the villagers knew.
Unfortunately it was not much. Some cottager had heard hoof beats on the road from Wolverton to Colby Green, but by the time he had got out of bed and looked out of the window there was nothing to be seen any more. But it must have been the highwayman, the cottager had insisted, for no one with honest business would have been out and about at that time of the night, and riding at such speed.
Another, who was actually in the shop buying shoelaces and therefore could tell his own tale, had heard the shots the highwayman had fired above his victims' heads, but had made sure his door was safely locked and stayed in the shelter of his own house rather than come to Mr and Mrs Morgan's rescue. He had a wife and children to support, he said apologetically, and wasn't going to risk his life to aid those who could well afford to lose their jewels. When asked how he'd known that the victims were affluent, he shrugged and said that there was no sense in the highwayman robbing anyone who wasn't. He added that even if he had gone out with this purpose in mind he'd have been too late to be of any real assistance - by the time he'd have got there he wouldn't have been able to prevent the robbery. On this happy note he left the shop.
"He's always been a strange one," Mrs Wilson said disapprovingly. "I wouldn't want to depend on him for the world! Always looking after his own comfort, and never considering others!"
"One cannot blame the man for being afraid of an armed criminal," Clara replied. "Besides I believe he is right he would not have been able to prevent the hold-up, so why put himself into danger?"
"For all he knew someone could have been hurt, however," Captain Morrison, who had escorted Clara, Amanda and Miss Swinford to the shop, remarked. "While I agree that the robbery could not have been stopped, he ought to have made sure that there was no one in need of his assistance."
There was no getting away from this, Clara agreed. Still she insisted that the man's fears had been natural, and that one ought not to judge him too harshly.
The hold-up had not taken place in Hermitage Wood this time, but on the road to Wolverton, on the opposite side of the village. Clara surmised that since the constable kept Hermitage Wood under close observation the highwayman had been obliged to find another area for him to act in; besides it was possible that he had chosen his victims at the ball and held them up at the likeliest spot on their way home. But how had he got there? If none of the horses in the stables of Colby Hall had gone missing, where had the highwayman found a means of transport for himself?
If Mr Norman had committed the robbery and things did look very bad for him he could have gone back to Risborough House and taken a horse from his father's stables. The question was whether he had been able to do so and get to the road to Wolverton in time without anyone being the wiser. Maybe she could ask Captain Gilbert or Captain Morrison to put this to the test. If it had been possible for Mr Norman to do so he had left the ball about half an hour before the Morgans had they had better keep an eye on him. If not, his name was cleared and they could concentrate on the other suspects.
Clara allowed herself to fall back as their party made their way across the village green and back to Antigua Lodge. She wanted to think of an excuse for calling on the Normans she was not quite certain whether Mrs Norman would take kindly to her, a stranger, calling at her house to inquire after her health, or whether she was more likely to think her intolerably nosy. Captain Gilbert and Captain Morrison would be more welcome, she was sure maybe she could persuade them to ride to the Normans' house and then test how long it would have taken Mr Ernest Norman to catch up with the Morgans' carriage, taking the difficulties of night-time travel into account.
As she passed the blacksmith's shop on the edge of the village, however, Clara forgot all about the Normans for a moment. A groom holding the reins of a large farm horse was waiting for his turn outside the forge, and was conversing with the blacksmith's apprentice to pass the time.
"Cast a shoe, he did, and we've searched all over the paddock and we haven't found it! Overton's upset; he can't think how this can have happened. For the horse hasn't been anywhere else so why isn't the shoe in the paddock where it should be?"
Clara's mind raced. Frantically, she was trying to think of a way to talk to the groom without betraying the suspicion that had entered her head that this was the horse the highwayman had used for his nefarious purposes. Remembering that so far she had made most of her discoveries when she had posed as a silly female, she cried out, "My, what a beautiful horse!"
Having by this means secured both the groom and apprentice's attention, she walked towards them.
"May I give him a treat?" she asked, searching her reticule for one of the biscuits she carried with her. "Or does he not take kindly to strangers?"
The groom, having recovered from his astonishment that a well-bred lady displayed such interest in a common farm horse, assured her that there was no danger.
"He's as sweet-tempered as a baby, miss, wouldn't hurt a fly."
The horse took the offering from Clara's hand and seemed to be determined to live up to that description one never knew, there might be some more treats to be had where this one had come from. Clara made a great show of stroking the horse.
"Such a fine animal," she sighed. "And sweet-tempered, just as you said. Unlike those high-bred hunters; I am often afraid of them because they are quite unpredictable, don't you think?"
"Not this one, miss. He likes people or at least he doesn't care enough for them to kick them." The groom's brow cleared; Clara had given him a plausible explanation for her preferring farm horses to high-bred ones, which must have appeared odd to him at first.
"A docile animal! His owner must consider himself very lucky."
"Not sure he does," the groom said. "This morning he was annoyed rather than pleased with him, what with the horse losing his shoe and us not being able to find it."
"Oh! How could this have happened I wonder?"
"That's what Mr Overton said. He searched the whole paddock, he did, cursing the horse."
"The poor thing! To be cursed at for something he couldn't help! You keep him in a paddock? Maybe he got out?" Clara fed the horse another biscuit.
"Not sure how he could have done that, miss, him not being likely to jump a fence."
"Is there a gap somewhere?"
"None. We've only just repaired that fence before we let the horses out."
"This is strange, indeed! Maybe the missing shoe will turn up somewhere. I have often observed that things have a way of coming to the surface long after one has given up on ever finding them again."
Captain Morrison, who had by that time become aware of Clara's absence from their group, came around the corner and, for a few moments, stared at the horse before he said, "There you are, Miss Baines! Miss Gilbert was getting worried where you had got to!"
"Oh, I am sorry! It is just that I wanted to have a close look at this fine horse here a beautiful animal, don't you agree?"
"Certainly, Miss Baines," Captain Morrison said, in the tone of one who was humouring a foolish child.
Clara turned to the groom. "Thank you for letting me have a look at the horse," she said. "I must take my leave of you now; it will not do to keep dear Miss Gilbert waiting."
With these words, she took Captain Morrison's arm and allowed herself to be led away.
"What was this all about, Miss Baines?" he asked her once they were out of earshot.
"Did you recognise the animal, Captain?" Clara asked.
"It certainly looked familiar, though I do not think I could swear to having seen it before," the Captain replied cautiously. "These farm horses all look alike."
"Conveniently alike," Clara agreed. "Does it have any similarities to the horse the highwayman was riding when he held you up?"
"It does look remarkably like that horse, I admit."
"I believe it does not only look remarkably like it, but it is that horse," Clara announced, with conviction. "I must get Amanda to call on the Overtons soon; and I must tell Captain Gilbert what I have found out. Now that we have found the horse, we can draw some conclusions regarding its rider, I'd say."
Miss Baines' discovery did give John some confidence that they might still discover the highwayman's identity. He agreed that the farm horse from Overton's farm could have been taken from the paddock at any time during the night, and then returned to the paddock without anyone missing it. The paddock at Lane Farm could not be seen from the house; it was situated behind the barn. Besides, the farm was not very far from Hermitage Wood and it was easily accessible from Colby Hall.
"If we found that horseshoe somewhere on the road to Wolverton, we could prove that the highwayman used that particular horse," Miss Baines said.
"I daresay you think this is going to be an easy task, Miss Baines," John said, smiling at her. She certainly sounded as if she thought it was the merest trifle.
"I know it is not," she protested. "And I do realise that we are not likely to find it! But we could try at least it is by no means impossible. - Maybe it would be better if we did not let Mr Overton know that the highwayman rode one of his horses."
"You are quite right, Miss Baines. He is a respectable man; he'd be greatly shocked to find out what happened. We had better wait until we know for certain before telling him anything about it."
Miss Baines nodded. "There is also the possibility of the highwayman finding out that we are on his track," she said. "This might turn out most inconvenient; for it would enable him to escape, and we must not allow him to do that. Only think what this would mean to Colby Green!"
John had never considered this, but Miss Baines was right. The people of Colby Green knew that the highwayman must have been one of them. If they did not succeed in unmasking the highwayman, there would always be suspicion among them. The quiet, friendly neighbourhood of Colby Green would change, and John was afraid that the change would not be for the better.
There was one thing he did not like about this new development, however. If Overton's horse was indeed the one employed by the highwayman, their likeliest suspect was out of the running. Norman could not have gone back to Risborough House, changed his clothes, gone to Overton's paddock to get the horse and ridden to the Wolverton road in time to hold up the Morgans. The highwayman had to be someone else someone from Colby Hall or Lane Farm.
This was not the first time Miss Baines had surprised John with her remarkable astuteness. In spite of her young age and sheltered upbringing, she had a sound knowledge of human nature, and an ability to draw people out and make them tell her all kinds of things. Again, she had discovered an important clue in fact it might have been the one clue that was missing to bring the highwayman to justice. If Overton's horse was indeed the one the highwayman had used in his crimes, all they needed to do was keep a close watch on Overton's paddock to see who had access to the horses, and if anything of a suspicious nature happened they simply had to follow the culprit and wait until he attempted another robbery in order to arrest him. They could set a trap ready for the criminal to walk into; all thanks to Miss Baines.
John realised that he was rather pleased with Amanda for befriending such a sensible, kind-hearted girl. Miss Baines got along with everyone in his family. She treated his parents with deference, was a loyal friend whose influence on Amanda was highly beneficial, and made an effort to become acquainted with Eleanor. Morrison, Walter and Simon and, indeed, John as well appreciated her unaffected manner of dealing with gentlemen. There were no arts, no attempts at flirtation, no trying to engage their attention at all times. This made her superior to most women John was acquainted with; and quite a few men as well, John thought.
That evening he often caught himself looking at her, and approving of her neat, unruffled appearance. She was not a beauty like Mrs Morgan, but she had presence, and was worth a hundred of Mrs Morgan's kind. John remembered how Amanda had told him that Miss Baines had many admirers in Bath, and he no longer doubted her word. A man must be a fool not to notice Miss Baines' good qualities, and the picture she presented when sitting in the drawing room with Amanda, studying the latest ladies' magazines and earnestly discussing their contents was a most agreeable one; one a man could get accustomed to. In fact, the only fault he could still find with Miss Baines was her stubbornness; her refusal to desist from meddling in affairs that even she must realise were none of her business.
To do her justice, she had been really useful, but now it was time for her to stop interfering before anything of a serious nature happened to her. John was not going to tell her about his further plans for their investigations, just to be on the safe side. The last thing he wanted her to do was run all over the countryside after dark in the hope of getting hold of the highwayman. He was afraid that she was not going to submit to his dictum if she knew that this was what he was planning to do; no matter what she might have told him about not wanting to lie in ambush earlier on. If she wanted to make herself useful, John decided, and he knew that this was what she did want, she could divert the Overton family's attention the next day while he and Morrison got some real work done.
When she sat down at the pianoforte to entertain her hostess with some music he took a seat next to her, ostensibly to turn the pages of her music sheets for her but instead to discuss their proceedings. She readily agreed to his course of action, and thought his idea was a most sensible one.
"I did ask Amanda to take me to Lane farm one day, so all I need to do is remind her of her promise tomorrow," she said. "Quite naturally you and Captain Morrison will escort us there, and maybe find some reason to have a look round while Amanda and I sit with the Overtons. Maybe there is something you wish to ask Mr Overton about farming?"
John laughed. "I know next to nothing about farming," he admitted.
"All the more reason for you to ask," Miss Baines remarked sensibly.
"Without doubt; but don't you agree that my sudden interest for agriculture might be regarded as suspicious?"
"A valid point," Miss Baines said, smiling. "Surely you can find a way around the problem if you put your mind to it Riflemen are encouraged to think for themselves, are they not?"
"And what do you know about the 95th?" John asked her, slightly taken aback.
"No more than what one reads in the newspapers," she replied. "My uncle does not discuss military matters with me; and even if he did I would not often have the opportunity to converse about them with him. But any man who has led a company of soldiers for several years should not consider allaying Farmer Overton's suspicions a challenge beyond his mental abilities."
"Thank you, Miss Baines."
"I hope you are feeling quite the thing, Captain," she remarked.
"I've never felt better why do you ask?" John asked, taken aback.
She laughed. "This must be the first time since I arrived here that you actually asked me to do something for you, and not just tolerated my attempts at helping you, secretly hoping that I'd soon grow tired of the adventure."
Miss Baines was too clever for her own good sometimes. John chose not to reply to her comment, knowing that she had hit the mark easily enough. His opinion of her had undergone a change of late; there was something about her that he felt drawn to even though she was not the type of woman he usually found attractive. Maybe it was her intelligence, or her kindness, or the fact that she did not display any particular interest in him; he did not know. The fact was that he did feel attracted to her now, even though he had found her rather plain at the beginning of their acquaintance. John was not certain he liked this development and, once Miss Baines finished her performance, he bore his friend and cousin off to his father's study to play a game of piquet with them and also to inform them of his plans without the ladies finding out what they were going to do next. The scheme suited him even better because it would take him away from Miss Baines for a while.
Clara did not find it particularly difficult to persuade Amanda to walk to Lane Farm with her. At the breakfast table she mentioned Amanda's promise to show her an exceptionally charming route to Lane Farm, and expressed her desire to become better acquainted with the Misses Overton, whom she had found most agreeable. Amanda, while not overly fond of the Misses Overton, complied with Clara's wish and even submitted to taking her cousins, her brother and Captain Morrison along with them when Lady Gilbert objected to their going alone. Amanda, Clara and Captain Gilbert walked ahead of the party while Captain Morrison followed with Mr and Miss Swinford. This was not much of a surprise; it had not escaped Clara's notice that Captain Morrison sought Miss Swinford's company whenever he could, and it was very clear to her why this was so.
"Was that letter you had this morning from you uncle?" Amanda wanted to know as they walked across the garden.
"It was," Clara replied.
"I hope he is well?"
It was evident that Amanda was dying of curiosity, and Clara took pity on her. "I have no reason to suppose that he is not," she said. "I wrote to him when we arrived here, and now he wants to know what we have been up to. You may help me compose a suitable reply later on I can hardly tell him that we have been hunting a dangerous criminal."
"Do you mean to tell us that your uncle would not wholeheartedly approve of the scheme?" Captain Gilbert asked. Clara looked up at him and noticed a gleam of amusement in his eyes. Was he teasing her? She decided to reply in kind.
"Who knows? He might even offer some advice on how to go about it," she said. "He might object to you taking part in the search, however."
"He thinks you would do better by yourself?"
"He knows it," Clara laughed.
"I am beginning to pity the General," Captain Gilbert remarked. "What has he done to deserve such a ward?"
"He did ask me the same question once; however I told him that he must be the best judge of that."
They reached a stile, and Captain Gilbert assisted her and Amanda in climbing across the fence. Clara stubbed her toe, and the pain made her utter an Italian curse under her breath before she could stop herself.
Captain Gilbert looked at her with an expression of surprise, but not without a twinkle of laughter in his eyes. "Miss Baines, I am shocked! Such language from a lady!"
"What did she say, John?" Amanda asked. Clara shot him a furious glance, daring him to tell his sister what she had rather she did not know.
"Oh, I'd never use such an expression in the presence of ladies," Captain Gilbert said lightly. "You'd best forget all about it at once; and I advise you not to repeat it."
"You speak Italian, sir?" Clara asked, mortified at having been caught using a foul word, even if it had been spoken in her mother's language; a habit she had adopted in the hope of getting away with it on those few occasions that called for such vocabulary.
"Not a word of it. However, it sounded remarkably like a Spanish idiom I am quite familiar with." He grinned.
"The refined language of a gentleman," Clara laughed. "Very well, I apologise for having put you to the blush, Captain Gilbert."
"Oh, it takes more than that to put me to the blush." Captain Gilbert said, laughing. "You forget the circles I move in!"
"The finest men in all England, I have been told. Do not rob me of my illusions, sir, I beg you!"
"Why should I? You paint a most flattering picture."
"But what did you say, Clara?" Amanda demanded. "I think it is most unkind of you not to tell me; and it's no use trying to change the subject to make me forget all about it for I won't!"
This made Clara laugh. "I will tell you, but only if you promise me never to use the word yourself. Lady Gilbert would have my blood if she knew I taught you such expressions; and I shudder to think of what Mrs Blackwell would say!"
"I promise," Amanda said breathlessly. "Now tell me!"
"Maledetta," Clara said. "Which means damn. In Italian as well as in Spanish, I gather."
"Now if that is all that it was I wonder why John was so shocked. Why, I've heard him use worse language than that! Often!" Amanda exclaimed artlessly.
Captain Gilbert burst out laughing. "I knew I could count on my dear sister to expose all my faults," he cried.
"I suppose your brother merely wanted to tease me," Clara told Amanda.
"Why should he do that?" Amanda wondered.
"It is customary for elder brothers to tease their little sisters' friends. Quite traditional, I assure you," Clara informed her. "I remember when I was a little girl and living with my mother in Surrey, I had a friend who lived nearby; and her brothers teased me all the time. They were getting quite tiresome in fact."
"They must have outgrown it by now," Captain Gilbert remarked.
"I wonder," Clara retorted. "There are some gentlemen in my acquaintance who do not appear to have outgrown the tendency."
To Captain Gilbert's credit he did not take offence at her remark, but merely laughed again. Like Clara, he appeared to have enjoyed their banter. There were times when Clara found him most agreeable, and it was a pity that those moments did not usually last long. The Captain turned earnest and businesslike again as they approached Lane Farm. He asked Clara to go ahead into the house with Amanda and Miss Swinford, with his cousin Walter in attendance, and to wait there until he and Captain Morrison joined them. He advised her not to talk about the robberies unless someone started on the topic first; a suggestion Clara resented very much because she prided herself on the subtlety of her methods. She had never done so, she said somewhat tartly, and was not going to start doing so now.
Captain Gilbert and Captain Morrison then turned their steps towards the barns, while Mr Swinford walked on with them towards the farmhouse.
Mrs Overton eagerly received them in her parlour. Amanda had told Clara that Mrs Overton was the daughter of an impoverished gentleman, who had only given his blessing to her marriage with a mere yeoman farmer because he knew there was no chance of her ever finding a husband among her own class. While Mrs Overton appeared to be quite happy with her lot, she still appreciated the occasional visits from Lady Gilbert and her family, who had taken the Overtons under their wings even though Lady Waldegrave and her set did not accept them as their equals.
"Do come in," she invited them, "and have some tea with us!" She then instructed her daughters to make room for the visitors, and to ring for refreshment.
"How kind of you to visit," she went on.
Clara smiled. "It has been my firm intention to do so as soon as possible, but I am afraid that what with one thing after another I have been delayed."
"Yes, is it not dreadful how one is often prevented from doing what one wishes to do? However, you are here now, and that is the most important thing," Mrs Overton replied.
"How elegant you look, Miss Baines," Miss Overton remarked. "But then you always do. I could not help but take notice of your spencer and bonnet in church last Sunday I wish I had a thing as lovely as these! As for your ball gown, I believe it was the talk of the day on Wednesday."
Clara laughed. "Indeed? I thought people were discussing quite another topic a much more interesting one."
"Oh, that," Miss Overton said dismissively. "I daresay many people talked about the hold-up on the Wolverton road, but your appearance at Lady Waldegrave's ball was a matter very close to some hearts, I can tell you."
Amanda reddened, and Clara did not doubt that Miss Overton's praise had not pleased her. After all, she had been quite happy with her own toilette at the dance, and probably felt that her merits had been neglected. She was too young and inexperienced to accept praise of others with equanimity, unless she received some praise too, and Clara was willing to provide it for peace's sake.
"I am afraid someone has been exaggerating," she said. "My gown was nothing out of the ordinary, I assure you. In fact there were many young ladies looking much prettier than I did. Two of them are in this room with us."
Clara's remark had the desired effect. Amanda's face returned to its natural colour. What did Miss Overton know? She had not even been there, while Clara had.
"I am quite glad we were not invited," Mrs Overton told Clara. "When we heard about the robbery I was horrified. Who knows if we'd gone to Colby Hall we might have been held up as well!"
"There is no saying indeed," Clara agreed.
"I told my girls how lucky we were, didn't I?" Mrs Overton continued. Clara suspected that Mrs Overton had not quite recovered from the slight of having received no invitation, and was now trying to convince herself that not being invited to the ball had been a fortunate thing.
"Mrs Morgan had it coming to her," Miss Overton said. "Ever since her marriage she has been boasting of her jewellery to all and sundry. If she had not, maybe the highwayman would have left them alone. Why, everyone in the village knew how much Mr Morgan had spent on that necklace of hers! There is no one who could escape that particular piece of information."
Mrs Overton agreed that it was never wise to show off. Apart from being vulgar, she explained, it produced envy, and was likely to subject one to unpleasantness, as demonstrated by the regrettable occurrence involving the Morgans and the Highwayman. It ought to be a warning to them all.
"I understand the first two hold-ups occurred not far from here in Hermitage Wood," Clara said. "Did you notice anything out of the ordinary that might give Sir Cecil a clue? I am very sorry for the poor gentleman; the matter weighs heavily on his shoulders and if there was any way I could help him I would."
"Sir Cecil is to be pitied indeed," Mrs Overton concurred. "But we have already told him that we know nothing nothing of a suspicious nature has happened anywhere near here."
"Though I did think the horses in the paddock were behaving in an odd manner on Tuesday night," Miss Overton said. "I told you so, Mama I woke up in the small hours because one of them was whinnying. Naturally I did not care to go out of the house and see what it was all about; but I found it very strange."
"You were imagining things," Mrs Overton said quellingly. "I did not hear any such thing, and as you know my room is right next to yours. If there had been anything wrong with the horses, I must have noticed too."
Clara did not doubt Miss Overton's word; it seemed as if she had been right with her assumption that one of Mr Overton's farm horses had been put to improper use. She wondered whether Mrs Overton had really not heard anything, or whether she was trying to shield someone one of her sons, perhaps. Clara found it hard to believe that a member of such a respectable family should take up highway robbery, but the truth was that they'd had the best opportunity of all the suspects. However, since Clara did not want any of the Overtons to guess her suspicions, Clara decided to follow Mrs Overton's lead.
"I do not think Miss Overton can be blamed for hearing things, considering what is happening in the neighbourhood," she said, and sighed. "I myself awoke the other night thinking I had heard a shot, yet nothing of the sort had occurred. But I lay awake for hours, absolutely terrified!"
Mrs Overton and both her daughters expressed their sympathy for Miss Baines' sufferings, and observed that it was certainly no wonder that respectable young ladies should be frightened out of their wits.
John and Morrison were not able to discover much. They found Farmer Overton and his sons in the barn, and John handed Mr Overton the message his father had written in order to provide John with an excuse for visiting Lane Farm. The farmer read it, and asked John to wait while he composed a reply to Sir Cecil's letter. In the meantime, he said, he hoped his sons would entertain their visitors.
James Overton, the elder of Overton's sons, was several years younger than John, and had always regarded him with an admiration that came close to hero-worship. He, too, had had ambitions to join the Army, but since his father could not afford to pay for a commission there was no way he would ever achieve this goal. James' behaviour had never led John to believe that he much regretted this circumstance. He took an interest in his father's farm, which he was to inherit one day, and was doing so well that in spite of his youth he had become his father's chief confidant. Yet it was difficult to look into people's minds. What if James Overton had decided to take matters into his own hands since his father could not buy an army commission for him? John wondered whether that motive would be enough to tempt a hitherto respectable young man on the path of crime. It seemed unlikely to him, but then he had no means of knowing how important the matter was to James Overton. People took to crime for the paltriest of reasons.
At any rate James was eager to show off a new hunting rifle of his which, he said, was similar to the weapons John's regiment used. John humoured him, and agreed that it was a fine piece of workmanship.
"Most accurate, too," James Overton continued. "But then so are yours, I've read."
"They are," Morrison agreed. "But the best weapon is only as good as its bearer's marksmanship. Do you often get the chance to use this rifle?"
"Not as often as I could wish," James Overton admitted. "Sir Cecil sometimes invites me to come with him when he goes shooting, and Lord Waldegrave's gamekeeper too, occasionally, but most of the time my brother and I just put up targets and practise on those."
"Are you any good?" Morrison asked, smiling pleasantly, although John noticed that the smile did not quite reach his eyes. Did Morrison suspect James Overton? But surely no one could be so foolish or brazen, for that matter as to hold the weapon one had used during a robbery right under one of one's victims' nose? On the other hand, it was unlikely that the highwayman had used a rifle. It was not the most practical choice of weapon for a horseman, especially when employed on illegal business. For one, a rifle was difficult to hide and might draw unwanted attention to it.
"I am, rather, even though I say so myself," James Overton said, grinning.
"We shall have to put that to the test one of these days," John suggested. "But here comes your father, so we had better defer this conversation to a more convenient moment."
James Overton eagerly agreed to a shooting contest to be held on Lane Farm some time soon, and considered himself honoured to be deemed a worthy opponent by two men who were among the finest marksmen in England.
During their visit on Lane Farm, John and Morrison had made sure that the paddock where the farm horses were kept most of the time was indeed impossible to see from the farm house especially at night, and Miss Baines' report on what Miss Overton had heard seemed to prove what they had already suspected that the highwayman had borrowed one of Farmer Overton's horses. It was easy to conclude that one of the Overton sons must have done so; they only needed to cross the farmyard and walk past the stables to reach that paddock. This could be accomplished even in the darkest of nights without drawing anyone's attention, especially if one was familiar with the terrain. However, anyone could have entered the paddock and taken one of the horses, maybe even intending to throw suspicion on the Overtons to keep it far from the real culprit. What they needed was proof, and there was only one way of obtaining it. They had to set a trap for the highwayman in order to catch him red-handed.
Once they returned to his father's house, John went to the study and fetched a map of the area. He was pondering over the map, trying to work out how many people he'd need to keep a proper watch over Hermitage Wood and Lane Farm when his brother came into the room.
"Simon! Just the man I wanted to see!" John cried.
"Why does this fill me with foreboding?" Simon retorted. "Is it because you appear to be hatching some scheme involving my person?"
"That's what I am doing, to say the truth," John admitted. "I need your help, Simon."
He explained his plan to his brother, telling him that they would have to take turns in watching Lane Farm and the roads of the surrounding area. The more men were involved in the enterprise, however, the more likely the highwayman would find out what they were doing, which was why John was reluctant to take anyone beyond his own family and friends into his confidence. So far he had decided that there would be two watches every night one from nightfall till midnight, and the other one from midnight till morning. The first watch would be comprised of Sir Cecil, Hobson the village constable and his son, and Morrison's batman, Collins. John and Morrison were going to be on the second watch, and he wanted Simon to join them. Cousin Walter was to remain in the house and make sure the residents of Antigua Lodge came to no harm; he'd readily accepted the task although he'd have preferred patrolling the countryside.
"You think I can help you there?" Simon asked. "You know I'm not a good shot."
"I don't want you to shoot anyone unless you are attacked," John told him.
Simon hesitated.
"Listen, Simon. There are not many people I can trust to keep their mouths shut about the business; we don't want the highwayman to get word of what we are up to, do we? You are one of the few men I can trust implicitly, which is why I've asked you. Don't forget that you will be with Morrison and me; if it comes to any shooting it's us who will deal with it. You'll just keep your eyes open and if anything of a suspicious nature happens you'll report to us. If it makes you feel any more comfortable I'll ask Atkins to come with us." Atkins was their father's gamekeeper, intimately acquainted with the countryside and the best shot John had ever known.
Simon thought for a while before giving his answer, and John left him to it without pressing him any further. He did not want to force his brother into something he did not really want to do; the venture was dangerous and anyone taking part in it should be doing so willingly.
At last, Simon nodded. "Very well, I'll do it," he said. "When do you want to start patrolling?"
"Tonight," John said, and Simon promised to be ready for duty at midnight.
© 2009 Copyright held by the author.