The Prisoner in the Tower, page 17
part #3 of Drusilla Davanish Mystery Series
Again I had that odd feeling that I’d missed something vital. As I tucked into my ham and eggs, I was so deep in thought, trying to work out what I could possibly have missed, I didn’t realise my aunt was speaking to me, until she put her hand on my arm and asked in concern, ‘Drusilla, are you quite well?’
I looked up in surprise. ‘I’m sorry, did you say something?’ And I added quickly, ‘I was thinking about Mr. Reevers.’
My uncle instantly urged me not to worry. ‘I’m sure they will soon realise they’ve made a terrible mistake.’
‘I wish I had your confidence,’ I said. ‘I believe someone wants him out of the way. For good.’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
M y aunt and uncle were rather excited about visiting Mr. Pitt at Walmer, as I would have been too if I hadn’t been so worried about Mr. Reevers.
None of us had been to Walmer Castle before. We knew it to be one of three fortresses Henry V111 had ordered to be built between Sandwich and Dover, to defend the east coast from the very real threat of invasion at that time. When the castle finally came into view, my aunt, who had visited many other castles, exclaimed in obvious disappointment that it looked rather small.
‘Well, my dear,’ my uncle declared, ‘that may not be a bad thing. For my part, if it means I won’t have to climb up one of those everlasting circular staircases to be found in most castles, I will be delighted. I find them tiring, tedious, and to be frank they make me feel a trifle dizzy. The truth is,’ he admitted sorrowfully, ‘I’m getting too old for that sort of thing.’
Aunt Thirza protested that was nonsense and listening to their courteous arguments over who was right and who was wrong, I smiled to myself, and looking out of the window, I commented, ‘I hadn’t realised the castle was so close to the beach.’
‘Forts often are,’ my uncle teased.
I laughed and said, ‘I suppose so. Well, we will be able to enjoy some good long walks in the sea air here.’
‘We can do that on the Island,’ my aunt pointed out.
‘That’s true,’ I said. ‘But I do like exploring new places.’
When we arrived at the castle my aunt was thankful to see a reassuring number of cannons facing out to sea. Cannons that would play a vital role in repelling any French invasion force on this part of the coast.
We were soon ushered into the drawing room, while our servants were directed to their quarters. Within a few minutes Mr. Pitt came to greet us, and after enquiring whether we’d had a good journey, he informed us that Jago and the Gauvans had not arrived yet. They planned to sail on to Walmer after reporting to Mr. Wickham in London, but it was never easy to predict how long a sea journey would take. Our host then took us on a tour of the main rooms in the castle, before showing us to our bedchambers. Where he informed us, ‘There’s a cold nuncheon awaiting us in the dining room. Do join me when you are ready.’
Although my bedchamber was not large, it was perfectly adequate, and the decor was a relaxing shade of blue. Once I had washed my hands and face and my maid had assisted me with changing my clothes and seeing to my hair, I made my way to the dining room, where I complimented Mr. Pitt on the elegant furniture and a number of very charming paintings. My aunt and uncle appeared a few minutes later and conversation over the meal was light-hearted, enabling us to relax after our long journey. Afterwards, my aunt said that she would like to rest for an hour, if that would be convenient, as it had been a rather tiring drive.
Mr. Pitt was all smiles. ‘By all means, ma’am.’
Aunt Thirza went off to her bedchamber, and our amiable host turned to me clearly expecting I would follow her example, but I assured him I did not need to rest. ‘Actually sir, I rather hoped you would show me round your grounds, if you have the time.’
He beamed at me. ‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure, ma’am.’ My uncle politely declined an invitation to join us, being aware I wished to speak to Mr. Pitt alone, and asked if he could browse through the castle library. Once he was happily settled in the library, I went outside with Mr. Pitt, where we took the path that ran beside the kitchen garden. A gardener was busy digging up potatoes and I waited until we were well out of his hearing before I asked Mr. Pitt, ‘Sir, would you kindly tell me what was the evidence that led to Mr. Reevers' arrest?’
‘I will do so, Lady Drusilla,’ he said in an understanding voice. ‘But it must be kept strictly between ourselves.’
‘Yes, of course,’ I said, and waited as he gathered his thoughts together.
‘Well, there were three reasons for his arrest, and although it grieves me to admit it, the facts do fit with what we know of him. First, Mr. Reevers was our only agent in Paris who was not arrested at the time of the betrayal. To the Alien Office that means he must be the one who betrayed the others to the French. Secondly, the turncoat put East in charge of the traitorous Fat Badger Society, and those two gentlemen were believed to have been good friends. And, as we know, Mr. Reevers and East were extremely good friends. The third, and most damning reason, is what happened when East attempted to assassinate the King and start a French-style revolution here. When Mr. Reevers finally caught up with him, only one door stood between East and the King, and he should have shot East there and then, but he failed to do so.’
‘Sir, that was just minutes after he’d learned Mr. East was a French spy, and shooting a close friend cannot be easy.’
‘I accept that, but if you hadn’t dealt with the situation, the King would now be dead and we would probably be in the middle of a revolution.’
To hear such accusations made against Mr. Reevers, who had given years of his life defending our country, left me so angry I stopped walking, turned to face Mr. Pitt, and swept aside the other two reasons he’d given me. ‘Mr. Reevers and Toby East were close friends, but if Mr. Reevers was the traitor he would be incredibly stupid to betray every other agent in Paris, knowing that the finger would then point at him.’
‘I understand how you feel, Lady Drusilla. I, too, have always thought Mr. Reevers to be extremely brave and patriotic. Nevertheless, in the opinion of those whose job it is to make these judgements, there is no other agent it can be. Of course, Mr. Reevers denies it all, as you can imagine.’
I took a deep breath. ‘Is – is he allowed a degree of comfort?’
‘He’s not sleeping on the floor, if that’s what you mean.’
‘I’m thankful to hear that, sir.’ Mr. Reevers had been under arrest for thirteen days, and he could be kept in the Tower indefinitely, as Habeas Corpus was suspended at present. This was due to the unrest caused by the Corresponding Societies, who were campaigning vigorously for all men to be given the vote. Another thought occurred to me. ‘You didn’t mention Mr. Fenton, sir. Mr. Reevers can’t have killed him, as he was in France at the time.’
‘According to Elvington, smugglers murdered Fenton.’
A wasp began to buzz around my head, and I flapped my hand at it, as I absolutely detest wasps. In fact I was almost as irritated with the wasp as I was with Jago, and I pronounced in a firm voice, ‘Lord Elvington is wrong, sir.’
Lashing out at the wasp must have stunned it a little, as it landed on the ground just in front of us. Mr. Pitt instantly trod on it and I couldn’t help wishing that the turncoat was as easily eliminated. We walked on again and he urged, ‘Now tell me ma’am, why do you think Elvington is wrong?’
‘It’s to do with Mr. Fenton's horse, sir.’ I explained the arrangements Louis had made with the Yarmouth inn, where agents and messengers about to sail to France, could leave their horses at the Dog and Duck stables, at any time of the day or night. ‘Mr. Fenton's horse was left there after he was murdered, although no-one actually saw it being brought in. Believe me sir, no smuggler would go to that much trouble to cover his tracks. Yet, it is exactly what the turncoat would do, so that we would believe Mr. Fenton had definitely gone to France.’
‘Yes, I do see that. Tell me, is Lord Elvington aware of your opinion, ma’am?’
‘He is, sir. But he believes he is right and I am wrong. I regret to say he considers himself to be infallible.’
‘Does he indeed?’ he murmured. ‘Well, it is largely due to Elvington that Mr. Reevers is believed to be guilty. He put forward his reasons, expressing his utmost regret, but said he saw no other possibility.’
I ground my teeth quietly, realising I must answer sensibly and coherently, for anger would get me nowhere. ‘Lord Elvington is a perfectly pleasant gentleman, but if evidence appears to point in one direction, he never looks at any other possibility. He’s convinced Mr. Fenton was murdered by smugglers for the money he had on him. But, when I told him smugglers would never have carried the body fifty yards from the track, or covered it up carefully, and then returned Mr. Fenton’s horse to the Yarmouth stables, he just shrugged, as if my opinion was of no importance. The fact is sir, he has a total disregard for my judgment on any subject, because he’s utterly convinced that no woman can possibly be as intelligent as a man.’
His lips twitched. ‘Then he has a lot to learn, ma’am.’
That made me smile, and I went on, ‘There is one other thing, sir. On the day before we left for London, I visited friends who only live a mile from Westfleet. When I was riding home alone, a knife flashed past my head, missing me by a whisker.’
He stopped walking and the concern I saw in his eyes brought a lump into my throat. He demanded, ‘Did you see who it was?’
‘No sir, but Mr. Fenton was killed with a knife.’
‘And you think it was the turncoat?’
‘I’m sure of it, sir.’
‘What day was this?’
‘Five days after Mr. Reevers was arrested.’
‘I see. If you’re right, then he cannot be the turncoat.’ And his brow furrowed in deep thought. ‘Ma’am, if it isn’t Mr. Reevers, who do you think it is?’
So much pointed to Louis, but as I was only too aware of Mr. Pitt's close friendship with the whole Gauvan family, I could not bring myself to mention the facts that suggested it could be him. Instead I shook my head and said, ‘I simply don’t know, sir. I haven’t found any evidence at all. Not a single thing.’
We walked on again and he said, ‘Don’t despair, Lady Drusilla. I believe you will soon find out who this traitor is.’
‘You are very kind sir, but unlike Lord Elvington, I don’t consider myself to be infallible.’
His lips twitched again. ‘Did you tell him about the attempt on your life?’
‘No, sir. I've told no-one, except my groom. I dare not trust anyone else.’
‘You don’t think Elvington is the turncoat, surely?’
‘I can’t rule anyone out, sir. The turncoat clearly knows I’m trying to identify him.’
‘And that’s why he wanted to kill you?’
‘Actually sir, I think he wanted to make sure I wouldn’t be in Walmer, so that I could not possibly stop him taking you off to Paris.’
Mr. Pitt stood still and stared at me. ‘But surely, Lady Drusilla, we can forget that French threat now that Robespierre is dead. The Terror has abated since he was guillotined, and I----’
‘I cannot agree, sir. According to the newspapers the Committee of Public Safety continues to pronounce you to be the Order of the Day. We’re still at war with France, and they want to get rid of you. I believe that------’
I stopped abruptly, having observed a servant hurrying towards us. He handed Mr. Pitt a letter, informing him quietly, ‘The messenger says it is very urgent and he is waiting for an answer, sir.’
Mr. Pitt promised to deal with it immediately, and having apologised for the interruption, he offered to escort me back to the castle. I thanked him but said I would rather like to explore the grounds.
‘By all means, ma’am. Although I fear you will be most disappointed.’
I had barely noticed our surroundings as we had talked, for my mind was entirely fixed on what was happening to Mr. Reevers. But as Mr. Pitt returned to the castle, I very soon saw he was right. There were a few trees and shrubs dotted around, but apart from the kitchen garden, the grounds were rather barren. The lack of a beautiful garden did enable me to concentrate on the reasons Mr. Pitt had given me for Mr. Reevers' arrest.
I thought back to that terrible day two months ago when Toby East attempted to assassinate the King. It was also the day he told me the man who’d recruited him to set up the Fat Badger Society, was a Frenchman working for us. Only it seemed he’d lied to me, for Mr. Wickham had since learned the traitor was English.
I was still deep in thought when I came to the chalk pit at the end of the grounds. I turned and headed back towards the castle, and had reached about half way when I saw my uncle coming in my direction. As I soon learned he’d come to inform me that Lord Elvington and the Gauvans had now arrived. Back at the castle we all greeted each other cheerfully, and I asked Gisele if she’d enjoyed her time at sea. She responded with a happy smile, ‘It was wonderful, Drusilla. Fortunately I seem to be a good sailor.’
‘Well, that does help,’ I agreed light-heartedly.
‘Jago was very kind too. He showed me how to sail the yacht.’ He would, I thought. To his mind, Gisele acted as a woman of her class should. Eager to allow a man to show her the ropes. In her case, quite literally.
Louis said proudly, ‘Gisele could sail the yacht by the time we reached London.’
Gisele sighed, ‘Wouldn’t it be nice to have our own yacht one day.’
Mr. Pitt soon came to greet them and after they had rested and changed their clothes, he took them on a tour of the castle. Dinner that evening proved to be a highly jovial occasion, with everyone in a happy mood. The conversation flowed, jocular remarks and banter abounded, with Mr. Pitt very much the convivial host. During a momentary lull in conversation, Jago casually inquired if Tom Morel had set off for Devon yet.
‘Well, he has left the Island,’ I said. ‘But not for Devon. He’s gone back to America.’
‘America?’ Louis gasped. ‘What ---- already? When did-------?’
‘He sailed early on Tuesday,’ I said.
Louis sighed and shook his head. ‘Well, that is a shame. We were going to spend a week or two with Tom in London before he left.’
Gisele asked why he’d left so suddenly, and I explained about the offer of the half price ticket for the most luxurious cabin on the ship. Before she could respond, Jago said, ‘Well, surely that explains it. Only a fool would turn down a chance like that.’ And he then changed the subject by asking Louis when he was going to see the Fencibles.
‘Tomorrow. First thing, if I can. Would you care to come with me?’
Jago accepted at once and they went on to discuss how best to train these brave men to defend our shores to the death, should the French invade.
Later, I managed to have a quiet word with Jago, asking how the sea trip had gone, and he told me, ‘Very well. The weather was in our favour.’
‘You saw Mr. Wickham in London?’
‘Indeed.’ I could tell from his expression that was all he meant to tell me, and I ground my teeth quietly, infuriated by his patronising manner. But I managed to curb my annoyance in order to ask the one question I was desperate to have answered. ‘Do you have any news of Mr. Reevers?’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
‘T
hey are still questioning him,’ he informed me abruptly and immediately turned to speak to my uncle so that I couldn’t ask him any more questions without behaving in the kind of rude manner I detested in others. I was left quietly fuming, and became even more so when I failed to find another opportunity to talk to him again that evening. Frankly, I feared Jago's reticence meant he was trying to shield me from what he considered was better for me not to know. Regrettably he did not realise that keeping things from me made my imagination run riot.
That night, I could not stop thinking about what it was Jago didn’t want to tell me, and I began to picture the most terrifying possibilities. Aware how foolish this was, I gritted my teeth and forced myself to concentrate on how I was to identify the real traitor. If I failed to do so, Mr. Reevers would never leave the Tower alive. Jago, being in charge of the secret operation to find the turncoat, had told me why he believed it was Mr. Reevers. But I was still very shaken by Mr. Wickham's acceptance of that conclusion.
Mr. Reevers had been in France when our agents were betrayed. And he had still been there when Mr. Fenton was murdered. Jago had provided the evidence for Mr. Reevers' arrest, and I had long believed that whoever offered that proof, must be the turncoat. But it seemed I was wrong. For, Jago was at Westfleet when the betrayal took place, and I had been with him in the breakfast parlour when Mr. Fenton was murdered.
I couldn’t sleep for thinking about what would happen to Mr. Reevers if everyone believed he was the turncoat. I tossed and turned until sheer exhaustion got the better of me just as it was getting light. Consequently, I woke up later than usual and by the time I went down to breakfast, Jago and Louis had already gone into the village to visit the Fencibles. Mr. Pitt was still at the table however, talking to my aunt and uncle about this worthy group of men. My uncle asked him, ‘Could these brave men fight off an invasion?’
‘I pray they can, Mr. Frère. They would fight to the very last man, however an invasion is not as easy to carry out as one might imagine. Soldiers crossing the channel may suffer from sea-sickness, then there’s the weather, tides and currents to contend with, and on this coast they could easily get caught out by the Goodwin Sands.’
Looking up from buttering my toast, I asked, ‘Are the Sands really as dangerous as everyone says, sir?’
