The Fencing Master's Daughter Read online

  Edward did not want to encourage further attempts on his life by leniency; but neither did he feel the killing rage he had the night before. Edward spent the rest of the afternoon with Shawcross, his agent, trying to sort out the Estate problems that had brought him home. Fulton junior set out at dawn to relieve Julian. By early evening Julian had returned to Chalcombe Manor where he joined Edward for a simple supper to hear the details of the battle he had missed, but had heard report of from young Fulton.

  Julian retired to Chalcombe St. Mary vicarage, where his numerous family members were overjoyed to see him. The following morning Edward and Julian discussed arrangements for the Christmas visit with Mrs Moss and dealt with the estate business with his agent. Most of this work fell to Julian’s shoulders, but at least Edward showed an interest in the Estate problems and was endeavouring to understand matters relating to his inheritance. Well before midday Edward and Julian again escorted by Timothy and Clarke, all armed, set off on horseback to visit Hambury at a distance of nearly thirty miles away in the neighbouring county of Markshire.

  When they eventually reached Hambury they found it to be a small, and far from affluent, village with a little ancient church and only a single hostelry. Apart from the church and inn the only other sizeable building was the vicarage. Most of the cottages that made up the hamlet were meagre and looked in poor repair. Edward sought out the vicar, an older gentleman, who had been incumbent in the parish for many years. After introductions, he ushered the earl into the warmth of his parlour. Over a class of sherry the Reverend Hunter listened to the earl’s tale.

  “Two days ago I was set upon by about a dozen of your parishioners. It was not the first attempt on my life so I had extra security and we were armed. Five were apprehended, though some are injured, two died in the battle, but a number got away. I gather they were led by a Dick Platt, who was one of the two who died. I believe they were paid by a third party to attack me. I’ve travelled to Hambury to try to discover who was behind these attacks,” Edward said.

  “I’m appalled to hear of this dreadful attack, my lord. I am grateful through God’s good grace you escaped unharmed. I am sorry about the involvement of my parishioners. A number of them are I believe missing, but most of them previously were of good character. It is quite dreadful that they have been persuaded to undertake such a villainous attack on your person. I have no idea who is behind it, but it is most unlike most of the men, who I understand have not returned. Dick Platt, I can believe led the others on. He’s been a bad lot, practically from infancy. He had to be chastised for many small cruelties and thieving as a young lad. From then, he progressed to burglary and smuggling, if the stories I hear were true. I have no idea who this mysterious third party is who funded this attack.”

  Hambury was only three miles from the coast so the story of smuggling had the ring of truth to Edward. He was going to enquire about the local nobility and gentry, as he considered it likely that the man who hired the men was local, or at least knew the area well. But they were interrupted by the arrival of a crested carriage driven by servants who demanded that the vicar accompany them to Lord Armstrong’s deathbed! The Vicar with profuse apologies deserted Edward to succour the dying. Edward remembered Lord Armstrong vaguely as a bosom pal of his father’s from childhood. There had been some suggestion of his older half-brother George marrying Lord Armstrong’s daughter Cecilia, but it had come to nothing as she had succumbed to smallpox in her twelfth year.

  Edward and Julian moved to the local tavern to continue their enquiries. The men were remembered locally although it seemed from the publican that Dick Platt would be little missed. Mine host named the local nobility as - Sir Hubert Grassmede, who had recently inherited his baronetcy, who was a young scion of some twenty five summers. Then the Dowager Lady Grassmede, his mother, the soon to be lamented Lord Armstrong and the Marquis of Glossops who rarely visited the area, being one of the Prince Regent’s set. A number of hunting gentlemen also kept hunting lodges in the area, but were only seasonal visitors.

  Mine host could not offer any suggestion as to who might have employed Platt and the others for the attack. He was tight lipped about whether any other regulars were missing. Edward had no desire in pursuing the escaped men, so he did not press further. There not being any other obvious avenues of enquiry to pursue, Edward’s party set out late for home, having rested their horses whilst enjoying a tankard or two of their host’s home brewed. The following day they started the journey back to London in fine wintry weather and making good time arrived back in the afternoon of the next day.

  ***

  Meanwhile Charlie Briggs had kept men watching the foreigner around the clock. His movements around London were furtive and often at strange hours of the day and night. He certainly did not keep genteel hours, for two mornings running he had left the Ambassador’s house before dawn to visit the docks and converse in hushed tones with some of the labourers who unloaded the cargoes on to the wharf. Charlie’s man had trouble catching up when he realised his quarry was moving. The man had also visited several of the city’s most insalubrious areas and taverns staying to a cockfight in a filthy gin house in Cheapside, where one of the other attractions were half starved girls whose ages rarely reached fourteen.

  He was treated as a respected regular and welcome guest by some of London’s worst scum. It was clear to Charlie that whoever the man was, he was involved in some very unsavoury business. He was careful not to make any enquiries about the man where it might be reported back. He had no intention of letting him disappear just when his search was beginning to pay off. A name was whispered to him by an old friend,: Monsieur Furet. Yes, Charlie thought that was appropriate. Only a ferret or a rat would be comfortable in some of the loathsome holes he visited.

  Charlie had another name for Monsieur Furet, he was convinced the man was French even though he stayed with the Helvetican ambassador, and only a spy would conceal his nationality. Whatever Furet was up to didn’t smell right, he was not just a murdering pervert, he was up to something and Charlie couldn’t wait to tell Edward about it. Why a French spy should be interested in Edward, who was no longer even a serving officer, and was not privy to any secret information, he wondered. The earl would know the right people to approach to deal with Mr Ferret! Following him was getting difficult; it was as if Monsieur Furet could feel the eyes watching his back. Charlie changed the watchers regularly and kept them as far back as possible, but he had still managed to slip away for a couple of hours only to be spotted returning to the Embassy once more.

  Madelaine had discovered that an old friend had arrived in England, and was to perform at Vauxhall’s fete. Signora Belluno was to rope walk at the Vauxhall extravaganza, and Madelaine wanted to see her again. If she went with the girls from Claudette’s, she would be at risk of unwanted attention, they were a flirtatious group who encouraged male followers. Even with an all-covering domino and mask she would feel unsafe. If Edward had been in London she might have accepted his escort, but she doubted he would appreciate her desire to reminisce with her old friends and although he would acquiesce to her request, he would believe her acceptance of his escort as a weakening of her resolve and encouragement to his suit.

  “Please Henri, come with me, I really want to see Madame Belluno again. You know I will go on my own if you don’t come with me. You could catch up with your friends in the troop.” Madelaine badgered him.

  “Louis would forbid you going, Vauxhall is not a place for young ladies,” Henri protested.

  “I thought I could go in men’s clothes so I don’t attract attention. And papa won’t know if you promise not to tell him,” she argued. So Henri was persuaded once more to be her escort. He grumbled about her deceiving her father, but knew better than to refuse his escort. He had no intention of allowing Madelaine to go alone. The ropewalking display was to be the penultimate event of the evening before the fireworks at midnight, so if they set off after Louis had retired to bed at night; they bel
ieved they would not be missed!

  Dressing in some of Louis’s old clothes, black of course, covered with a black cloak and with an old tricorn hat and with her hair tucked up under an old tail wig and a mask covering her face even Henri would have found it hard to recognise her. The clothes were rather too loose but she belted the breeches tightly to her tiny waist. She remembered to swagger as if she was the man she pretended to be, lengthening her normal stride. Remembering the attack on Edward she strapped on a foil, before heading out to cross the river with Henri. They were lucky in finding an empty hackney quickly and were soon crossing the river to Vauxhall.

  Shrouded as she was in her disguise, she attracted little attention from the crowds bent on amusement. She wasn’t shocked by the sights that greeted her, she had seen worse in her travels through Europe. Some of the crowd were already well into their cups and a number of the muslin company plied their trade amongst the raucous revellers, disappearing into the darker walks with gentlemen only to reappear giggling and flushed a little later.

  Henri and Madelaine stuck to the main walks as they made their way to the pavilion as they assumed the performers were likely to be setting up near there. Despite the numbers of people wandering in all directions they soon found the group of performers and handymen who were waiting for the advertised time for Signora Belluno’s performance with everything apparently in readiness. A marquee had been set up close to one platform from which Signora Belluno was to walk out onto the rope high above the crowd. No nets had been placed which Madelaine was well aware would be used during practice; whilst she herself had walked the wire she didn’t relish doing it with the distractions of so many persons, most of whom were in an advanced state of intoxication beneath the wire. Madelaine thought that the organisers should have fenced off the area beneath the rope for the safety of the spectators, should anything go wrong.

  Luckily several of the hands recognised Henri and they were ushered into the presence of Maria Belluno. She was seated at a rudimentary dressing table within the Marquee, where she was busy applying a second layer of paint to what appeared to already be a very thick application of cosmetics. Age had not been kind to Maria. She had been a buxom beauty but now her figure was a little more generous and tightly laced into a waisted corset which made her spill out over the top in a slightly comic way.

  Her once raven hair was now clearly dyed and had a strange almost purple sheen. She was dressed in an outlandish headdress complete with massive ostrich plumes and strings of beads, ringlets and pads of horsehair. The overall effect of her ornate skin tight costume of gold, red and blue was like a top heavy children’s toy. Madelaine wondered how she could breathe so tightly laced and felt that the headdress would make balance on a high wire even harder. The jugglers and tumblers in her party would perform first before she made her grand entrance.

  “Madelaine, Carissima! E meraviglioso vedere di nuovo,” Maria gushed in Italian, saying to Madelaine, how wonderful it was to see her again. She enfolded her close to her magnificent bosom and smothered her in kisses. She made no comment about how Madelaine was dressed and rattled onwards in Italian, telling Madelaine all the news of their mutual acquaintances of six years previous when they had last met in Vienna and what had happened within her troupe in that time. Henri soon bored of the women’s conversation and wandered off to talk to his personal friends amongst the group. Madelaine let her talk on without interruption, only remembering half of the personages that peppered Maria’s conversation; when glancing towards the tent’s opening she noticed a familiar face walk past. Someone from her past whom she had hoped she would never see again.

  Shivering involuntarily she stepped further into the cover of the tent and watched the man as he moved unconcernedly among the crowd. She excused herself from Maria, promising to visit when she was established for a short season at Covent Garden and followed the man from a distance. After a while she became aware of another man between them also surreptitiously following her quarry. Realising she’d left Henri back at the troupe’s area and concerned at involvement from the anonymous watcher, she turned back, for she wished her next meeting with the man would be very short and required no witnesses. It would be the last time she would ever have to see him; the last time anyone would see him. She would be revenged and send him straight to hell. Madelaine prayed God would aid her in her endeavours, for the world would be a better place without that man.

  As she returned to the environs of the pavilion, she spotted Edward in one of the boxes to where he had accompanied his mother, two women and two men whom she didn’t know. mother and daughter she guessed from the looks of the ladies. The younger of the men might be a brother perhaps or the husband of one of the other women, but the older man had a different cast of features entirely. As he seemed very solicitous towards Edward’s mother Madelaine surmised he was present in the party as her escort. Not wanting to be discovered by Edward dressed as she was, particularly as his mother was with him, she kept her head down and continued on her way towards Henri.

  Edward, who had arrived back in London only that morning, had been bullied into joining his mother’s party to Vauxhall, and was annoyed his mother was using his compliance in another attempt to interest him in one of the year’s most insipid debutantes. Then there was a noisy contretemps which caught his eye, a girl with long pale blonde hair, the same shade as Madelaine’s was being dragged by two men and noisily protesting in French.

  Edward could not be certain from the distance; the voice sounded different, but she looked a little like Madelaine. He had to be certain and set off in pursuit. He forgot his usual escort of Timothy, who had been in attendance, but had been sent back to the Chalcombe carriage to fetch a cloak for his mother and was therefore temporarily absent.

  Edward in evening dress was not wearing a foil, considering it inappropriate for a family outing; and had no thoughts for his own safety as he moved swiftly through the milling crowd of people to try to find the girl who was in seeming difficulties. Madelaine saw the man she had been watching and realised his eyes had not been on the drama with the girl but had been on Edward for the whole time.

  The French man walked away as if no longer interested in the earl, but Madelaine turned back and followed Edward, concerned he had left his party and was unprotected. The other girl’s voluble protests were moving away and Edward followed trying to move swiftly as the crowd thinned out. The path he was now following led further into the more private areas of the gardens and the lanterns were more widely scattered, leaving patches of darkness amongst the hedges and shrubbery. He neared the group and the girl who was now clearly unrestrained by the men turned and faced him. He could see now that she was only superficially similar to Madelaine.

  The hair was brassier and her face, though attractive, was that of a woman in her thirties. Their proportions were much the same, though this woman had a larger décolleté than a respectable unmarried woman should wear and filled it more thoroughly too. Realising his mistake Edward was unsure whether to offer the lady his assistance or not.

  At the present time she did not seem to be in any danger. Perhaps he had interrupted a dispute between a married couple, or her protector and his friend. Pausing unsure of whether to turn and retrace his steps to the pavilion, Edward realised finally that it was he who was in danger, not the lady. Two men moved towards him and before he could act he had been bundled into a heavy cloak and tied and muffled.

  Madelaine twenty yards behind had just turned into the path and halted realising what had taken place. The assailants seemed unaware of her standing unmoving in the shadows watching as they carried Edward to a shabby closed carriage a couple of hundred yards away. One of the men climbed into the carriage with the bound Edward, the other slipped a small purse to the woman, who walked off back to the gardens, before himself climbing onto the box of the carriage.

  Madelaine moved quickly to cover the distance to the carriage and scrambled onto its rear where luggage or a groom might ride as t
he carriage set off at a spanking pace. Making herself as tiny as possible she clung to her perch, hoping the journey would be short, regretting she had failed to inform Henri of her whereabouts and feeling guilty knowing that he would soon be worrying about her.

  Chapter Eleven - Le Sauvetage

  Madelaine’s main concern as she clung to her perch was contacting either Henri, whom she had left behind at Vauxhall without giving him any warning, or Timothy Griggs, whom she assumed had attended Vauxhall in company with the earl. The carriage continued through sparsely lit London streets. Few lanterns shone in the poorer areas they were travelling through; but eventually they stopped in a road close to the river where warehouses backed onto the river-bank. Climbing off the carriage silently she succeeded in slipping into the shadows without attracting their attention. Madelaine watched as the men carried the inert Edward into one of the tall, dark, dreary warehouse buildings.

  Through the unshuttered windows she could see the flickering light of a lantern being carried up the internal stairs. Presumably they were carrying Edward with them. She had seen only two men, but there could be more. Why were they kidnapping Edward when the other group of felons had been paid to dispose of him permanently? Madelaine pondered the problem. The moving light inside the building halted on the third floor and she could hear a few muffled sounds from inside the building. Then the light settled and grew a little stronger as if a darkening cover had been removed.