The Stuart Sapphire Page 8

  Tam finally decided what to wear, a black cutaway coat and breeches, a modest outfit that might suggest a lawyer or a minister with white bands, plus a dark, enveloping cloak and, once he attached the mask to the wide-brimmed hat, a sinister stranger stared back at him from the mirror.

  He shook his head sadly at his reflection. The more he thought about the plan the less he liked it. There were too many loopholes, but he saw no way of refusing to participate in such a mad exploit, fraught with unseen and unimaginable dangers.

  By eight o’clock it was already growing dusk when he presented himself at the royal bedroom. The prince was not in evidence, but he was relieved to see Percy waiting for him by the concealed door and glad of their immediate exodus. There seemed to be an abundance of flies buzzing about, angry at having been deprived of a dainty morsel.

  As he followed Percy down the stairs, he was informed that they had wrapped her ladyship in her fur cloak, and that she was at present propped up in a sedan chair at the gate where Henry, driving the closed carriage, was waiting for them.

  Percy smiled as he talked and seemed to think of it all as rather a good jape. All thoughts of the murder that had necessitated this grim task seemed to have slipped by him too.

  It was no easy task settling the dead woman into a corner of the carriage. Even with Tam seated alongside, she tended to slump sideways in his direction and he realised with a sense of horror that keeping her upright and propping her up would require his constant attention during the miles ahead.

  At last Percy waved them off. The window blinds were drawn, and being in charge of a corpse in semi-darkness promised to be an even more unpleasant experience.

  As they drove along the Steine, Tam raised a corner of the shade and peered out cautiously. The hilly countryside north of the Pavilion seemed deserted and it was not until they were well on to the Stanmer road that other carriages, more handsome and distinguished, were in evidence, heading for Creeve House.

  Leaving Brighton behind, Henry called down that, on Percy’s instructions, they were to depart from the main route and proceed by a less-frequented faster road. It was also less comfortable inside the carriage as the twisting road narrowed alarmingly along the edge of an embankment, with a belt of trees sweeping from far above them towards the steep slope, and a rider approached out of the dusk.

  Riding alongside he peered in the window at Tam. ‘Excuse me, sir,’ he panted, ‘I am for Brighton but I seem to have got on to the wrong road.’

  The carriage had slowed down and Tam tapped on the roof. ‘Coachman, can you direct this gentleman, please.’

  Explanations and directions were given by Henry, still heavily muffled, and repeated by the traveller who looked in at the window to thank Tam once again, and politely saluting the motionless figure beside him said: ‘Your servant, ma’am.’ Then with a sigh of relief they were steadily on the move again and, occupied with the business of supporting his inert companion, Tam thought he heard Henry call out, something like – a warning!

  The next moment the carriage jolted to a halt, with the sound of horses jingling harnesses, and Tam raised the blind to be confronted by four masked men.

  Travellers for Creeve House who had also taken the fast route and lost their way, he decided. His offer to lean out and offer reassurances was cut short as the door was flung open and a pistol flourished before his face.

  He sat back with a groan. Not guests but highwaymen, he realised with a sinking heart. Before he could take in the full measure of this unexpected inconvenience to their progress, let alone recognise the probable fatalities of such an encounter at night on a lonely road, with a pistol still at his chin, he heard Henry being told to dismount and unharness the horses.

  Brutal laughter from the men. ‘Save the horses, we’ll have them for a start. Aye, plenty of life in fine beasts like them.’

  Even as he wondered how they were to continue their journey without horses, he heard Henry yell – a thud and the sound of a body – Henry’s – hitting the ground.

  If he was still alive, he must try to rescue him. But how? Unarmed, Tam could do nothing. His natural reaction was to leap from the carriage by the other door. He knew he could outrun most men, and by the time they got their pistols cocked he could have been out of sight down among the trees, but what about Henry?

  The carriage swayed horribly towards the edge of the embankment as the horses were released from the shafts. He heard the men’s voices outside, realised what was about to happen and wondered why they were not interested in the two passengers. Apart from that pistol being flourished as a warning, the highwayman must have observed that there was also a lady passenger, apparently asleep, wearing a handsome fur cloak, and a fine rope of pearls about her neck.

  Now the carriage jerked and jolted nearer the edge of the slope, Tam realised almost too late what was about to happen and as he prepared to jump out a pistol smashed down towards his head.

  Only the gathering momentum of the swaying carriage which hurled him to the floor saved him from what would have been a certain death blow, as the carriage trembled for an instant on the edge of the embankment. Then, gathering speed, it seemed to leap into the air, hurtling downwards, crashing into trees and shrubs which shattered in its path, stones and boulders flying.

  So this is death, was Tam’s last thought. No longer able to cling on to anything substantial, as doors and windows disintegrated, he tumbled out and rolling helplessly downhill landed heavily, with his head hard against a tree trunk.

  The world around him faded and was lost.

  He opened his eyes painfully, groaned and wondered how long he had lain there and how great were his injuries from the steep fall. Time had passed for it was darker now, but not yet nightfall.

  Struggling cautiously to his feet, at least there were no bones broken, but he suspected bruises and scratches in plenty. All around him lay the scattered remains of the carriage, reduced to unrecognisable matchwood. Wheels, doors and seats had vanished down the slope.

  Scrambling up the slope, he noticed a large, furry shape, the outline of a dead animal, lying a short distance away.

  Tam shuddered as he realised without further inspection that the marchioness had found an unplanned resting place. Making his way painfully back to the road, there was as he expected no sign of highwaymen, horses – or Henry. All had vanished into the twilight dusk.

  Shaken, he sat down gratefully on a boulder, rubbing his bruised knees, thankful that his injuries were no worse with the prospect of a long walk back into Brighton, and an unavoidable confrontation with the prince regarding the disastrous end of their plan. In the circumstances, he could see all prospects vanishing of the promised purse to continue his mythical journey.

  As he began walking, his confused thoughts became more ordered.

  Where was Henry, was he still alive? The highwaymen had taken the horses. Was Henry also a hostage, had he been their main target? Some sinister plot involving the natural son of the Prince Regent was at least a feasible explanation.

  At that moment, a stifled groan reached his ears and gave him the answer to what most concerned him – having to return to the Prince and tell him the dread news concerning Lord Henry. No need now, for Henry was very much alive, trussed up and gagged and tied to a young sapling by the roadside.

  Tam rushed to his assistance. Henry seemed surprised to see him. Dazed, he murmured thanks while Tam untying his bonds observed that they were neither aggressively restricting nor even very efficiently tied at all, considering the desperate nature of highwaymen. In fact, had he been their victim, he would have found it not too difficult to wriggle out and escape from their confines.

  Helping Henry to his feet again, his tearful gratitude was an exact replica of the prince’s and emphasised again his remarkable resemblance to his royal father.

  ‘I can never thank you enough – I thought – I thought you must be dead.’ A pause as if expecting reassurance from Tam before continuing. ‘I saw the fien
ds push the carriage down the embankment. I heard the sound of it breaking into pieces, and I thought how terrible. Poor Mr Eildor. No one could survive such a disaster.’ And regarding Tam in amazement, ‘But you did—’

  Again he paused. ‘Is – is she—’

  ‘Yes, down there among the wreckage.’

  ‘What rotten luck.’ Henry sighed and went on cheerfully. ‘Well, it does makes it a lot easier from our point of view. I expect someone will find her ladyship’s body sooner or later – an unfortunate accident – and nothing to connect her to recent events,’ he added in a whisper.

  Tam gave him a hard look. Henry was taking it remarkably lightly, smoothing over inevitable questions that the discovery must raise. Where had she come from, for instance, and why had she been travelling in only a fur cloak and pearls? And had this been an accident, where were the coachman and horses?

  ‘Ah yes,’ Henry continued happily, ‘the highwaymen saved us a journey to Lewes and, quite candidly, between ourselves, I was not all that convinced that we would be successful in staging her ladyship’s sudden death in the garden of Creeve House. That was Percy’s idea,’ he added in a tone of self-righteousness.

  ‘Was it his idea that we should take the short cut?’

  ‘Indeed it was, just as I told you,’ said Henry somewhat huffily. ‘Not very clever, I’m afraid. But Percy is very impulsive – I could tell you many examples—’

  But Tam was no longer listening. His thoughts were elsewhere. There was something not quite right about their attackers who did not behave in the characters of highwaymen.

  Why had there been no ‘stand and deliver,’ the usual demands for jewellery and valuables from a handsomely clad sleeping lady, in valuable furs and wearing a rope of extremely valuable pearls around her neck?

  Why had they shown so little interest in the occupants of the carriage? Their only intention seemed to be to destroy the carriage – and himself – not with a bullet but with a blow from a pistol that would fracture his skull and look as if he had suffered that fatal blow when the carriage was wrecked.

  No longer listening to Henry, he was thinking about the original plan involving the return of the marchioness’s body to Creeve House and the more ingenious plan that had taken its place.

  There was something else, of even greater significance. At the moment when the carriage lurched towards the slope, the cloak had slipped from the arm of his assailant, the highwayman wielding the pistol. And Tam had seen a flash of a red and gold uniform sleeve, which he recognised as the uniform of the four guards he had interviewed in connection with the marchioness’s death. The uniform of the Prince Regent’s own regiment, his Tenth Dragoons.

  This revelation confirmed his suspicions that their attackers were not highwaymen at all and certainly had not been adequately schooled in how to perform such roles.

  ‘Are you quite unhurt?’ He was aware that Henry had repeated the question, somewhat bemused that Mr Eildor was still in one piece and had suffered so little damage in what Tam realised was intended to be recorded as a fatal carriage accident. The disposal of the marchioness – and himself, as a mysterious stranger who knew too much…

  ‘I am quite fit. And you—’

  ‘Just some rope burns, rather uncomfortable.’

  ‘But you are fit enough to walk back to Brighton?’ asked Tam.

  At his side Henry chuckled. ‘A longish way, but there is no need for us to walk anywhere.’ And so saying, he withdrew a handsome timepiece from his pocket. Had the highwaymen troubled to search him, and relieve him of that, Tam thought, they would have reckoned they had earned a substantial reward for any night’s activity.

  Holding it close to his face, Henry smiled.

  ‘There is just enough light for me to see the time – it is almost nine o’clock. And do you know,’ he added in tones of surprise, ‘the stagecoach that goes through Lewes to collect passengers for Brighton and the coastal towns, comes along the road here in ten minutes precisely. What an excellent piece of good fortune!’

  And for Tam, that piece of information had a significant role to play in the night’s events. There was no way the driver could have missed seeing Henry tied to a sapling by the roadside in the twilight of a clear summer’s night. He decided not to share his thoughts with Henry after all, in common with the glimpse of a Dragoon’s uniform sleeve under a dark cloak.

  Or the fact that the highwaymen had completely overlooked their life’s work and daily bread, of robbing frightened travellers on lonely roads.

  Henry with his gold timepiece, the female passenger with fur cloak and pearls…

  Unless they knew that she was dead already and robbery was not their commission.

  As for himself, why had they omitted to strip him of any valuables he might be carrying, such as a sword or pistol, with which gentlemen frequently armed themselves against possible attention from highwaymen, especially if there were female passengers, wives and daughters, to protect?

  It was not unknown for rich ladies to receive rough treatment and lewd handling if their persons did not yield expected items of jewellery. As a precaution many carried “bad purses”, containing some coins or perhaps a pair of earrings, to divert attention from more valuable items.

  And as they waited for the appearance of the stagecoach, Tam realised the true nature of the false highwaymen’s attack.

  He had been considered expendable, his death part of that prearranged plan. Henry’s astonishment at his survival seemed genuine. Percy certainly had a minor role. But was it the prince himself who had masterminded operations for his faithful Dragoons, alias four desperate highwaymen?

  Chapter Ten

  Tam and Henry alighted from the stagecoach on the Steine after a crowded, noisy, but mercifully short journey. Most of the male passengers – and some of the females too – were very drunk and noisy, genially passing round bottles and inclined to hilarity which neither Tam nor Henry were inclined to share. Especially as every one of them, thanks to close confinement for several hours on what had been a hot August day, smelt abominably.

  While realising that his escape from almost certain death on the Lewes road a short while ago was nothing short of a miracle, Tam was now feeling the full effects of his bruises which stiffened up during the drive, and was thankful that he had sustained no serious injuries to his legs and arms. After the fetid atmosphere inside the coach, he was grateful to be able to breathe fresh air again.

  The gentle evening breeze with its faint perfume from the Pavilion garden’s aromatic flowers and shrubs was welcome indeed, and as they walked towards the building, its windows shone with the brilliance of a hundred candles lighting their path. A full moon drifted lazily through the clouds, and couples walked or dallied, the ladies’ white muslin gowns glowing moth-like in the darkness. Emanating from the rotunda strains of Handel played by the prince’s expert group of resident musicians contributed an element of romance, with the faint susurrus of the waves at high tide, silvered by moonlight, enhancing the scene.

  The guards at the door saluted Henry, who, on the threshold, hesitated for the first time. Observing that he had kept his own counsel since leaving the coach, fully preoccupied with his own thoughts, Tam decided cynically that he might make a shrewd guess at what was troubling Henry.

  A poor actor, he was doubtless nervously rehearsing which version of the abortive carriage ride to Lewes he was to present as most readily acceptable and believable to his royal father. As for Tam, he smiled to himself in the darkness. He was looking forward to being present at that particular interrogation.

  It was not to be. As they climbed the stairs and approached the royal apartments with the Dragoon guards on duty along the corridor standing to attention and saluting smartly, Henry turned quickly to Tam and said:

  ‘I will not delay you further, Mr Eildor. You have had a very dangerous and painful experience and I am sure that you wish to adjourn to your apartment, to wash and refresh.’

  This was not at a
ll what Tam wished, in fact, he was bitterly disappointed but as no argument was possible, he acknowledged what was hopefully intended as a kindly, thoughtful gesture.

  ‘We will meet tomorrow morning, I trust,’ Henry continued, ‘before you resume your journey. Until then, I will bid you goodnight. Rest well.’

  With frustration added to his physical aches at this forced retiral from what promised to be a most interesting and illuminating interview, Tam went into his bedroom. Removing the dark clothes he had been wearing, now sadly in need of attention and repair after his fall down the embankment, he was pleased to see the silent footman bearing a ewer of warm water and fresh towels and even more gratified at the appearance of a jug of wine.

  Pouring a large glass of what tasted like the best vintage from the royal cellar, for a moment he considered the nightshirt spread neatly on the bed. His bruises plagued him, he was exhausted, yawning, but he sternly resisted the temptation to lay his head on the soft pillows and close his eyes on the day.

  With the faint hope that he might yet be summoned by the prince to give his own version of the encounter with the highwaymen, he dressed once more in the clothes he had been given on his arrival and consoled by a further glass of wine, he sat down on the bed to await events, deciding that bodily discomfort was easier to ignore than uneasiness of mind.

  Over and again he returned to the intriguing question of what Henry was whispering to the prince concerning the carriage accident and the unexpected disposal of the marchioness’s body. But what troubled him most was whether or not the prince had been party to the plan.

  He had not long to linger with his dismal thoughts, busy as rats trapped in a cage. A tap at the door announced a guard who looked in with the command:

  ‘Mr Eildor, I am to escort you to His Royal Highness’s apartments on the instant.’

  Outside the royal bedroom, Percy sat alone, his glum expression showing his disappointment at being excluded from the interview within. His brief nod in Tam’s direction gave nothing away as the guard opened the door.