Alternative Bride 22

 

Chapter 22

 

The messenger boy rode through the night, and was able to find Officer Langcostard before he set out from the inn he was using as a base.

The Bow Street Officer read through the letter, whistled, and nodded to the lad, adding sixpence to his already large vail.

“No answer; but what’s the best way to Wintergreen House without hedgehopping like you?” he asked.

The boy giggled shyly, and explained concisely the best route to take.

Langcostard was ready to alter his plans with some solid information, and made for the viscount’s house.

It so happened that he stopped for luncheon at the first inn Frith found where he gladly ordered food – and being bedraggled, paid in advance for it – and was animadverting against the evil ways of the viscount to anyone who would listen, which was not many, Frith’s complaints about his horses having already shown him up.

Langcostard realised that this must be the man whose daughter the young couple had been impersonating; and whatever the law might say about a girl belonging to her father, Langcostard liked the Wintergreens, and did not like this vile bully in the least.

“See here, my lad,” said Langcostard, “You’re making claims as would get Wintergreen and this Franklin hanged. Can you prove them?”

Frith stared.

“Well, it must be true or why would that Wintergreen fellow lead me a merry dance?” this straightforward sentence was somewhat padded out with other qualifications of a most derogatory kind.

“Well, I’m an officer at Bow Street; and you should present evidence if you have any, and write a deposition,” said Langcostard. “Include every instance you know of.”

“I can get him arrested?” said Frith, eagerly. “I’ll write you a deposition!”

The inn writing paper might not be very good, and the ink indifferent and thin, but Frith covered three pages of accusations.  He signed it, and Langcostard wrote underneath,

“This accusation written by the hand of Mr. Wilfrid Frith and his signature to it witnessed this day, 10^th September 1815, Officer Abram Langcostard, number 34.”

He folded the deposition inside his inner pocket.

His lordship would thank him for an irreversible proof of spite without the slightest piece of material evidence offered.

“Will you arrest him? And that whore he calls his wife?” asked Frith.

“I am currently on my way to Wintergreen House,” said Langcostard.

“I knew there was something deuced havey-cavey about him,” said Frith. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he turns out to be a highwayman.”

 

Langcostard was accosted by a number of locals.

“Now, see here, and not wishing you any harm, but we’ll have that lying dokkiment right now,” said the leader.

Langcostard cocked his head on one side.

“Now, if this document is full of lies, don’t you think it’s of more use to his lordship to have proof of malice?” he said, mildly. “Do you read?”

“I read,” said one of the others.

“Then you read this deposition through, my lad, and you tell me what proof is presented,” said Langcostard, handing over the document.

The villager read through out loud, puzzling out some unfamiliar words.

“Why, that ain’t nuthin’ but swear words and air,” he said. “And that fellow’s thoughts. Got carried away enough to make you wonder if it didn’t give him a stiffie to write and contemplate on.”

“That’s his problem, not his lordship’s,” said Langcostard. “I don’t even want to think about it without enough brandy to lose the memory, and I’m on dooty. But I was going to give this to his lordship.”

“Right. Well, in that case...” he was given the document back.

Mr. Lancostard resumed his mount, and rode on to Wintergreen House, thanking his lucky stars that he was born a farm boy and used to riding before his father died and his mother went to London to work as a slavey sewing for a modiste; and that his own first, last, and only foray into crime to help his siblings lead to being caught by a compassionate Bow Street Officer, who tanned his jacket instead of turning him in, and employed him as a ‘nose.’ The retainer of sixpence a week and extra for real information not only helped keep the family, but gave young Abram a lot of experience in police work, and enabled him to join up when he was old enough.  He deplored the corruption in the service and was careful to remain ‘clean’ himself, but he was glad not to have to allow himself to be bought by his lordship over the malicious accusations of an unpleasant man. He could not see any of them being true. But if they had been, it would have been tempting, as he liked Wintergreen.

Such musings were interrupted as he rode up the drive, wondering if he would be allowed to stable his horse, or must hitch it somewhere, when the young Lady Wintergreen erupted from the front door, and galloped coltishly down the two or three steps.

“Mr. Langcostard! I thought it was you,” Jane said. “Do come in... oh, dear, we need a stable hand unless you are determined to fettle your horse for yourself? Gerard agrees with my father that a gentleman or gentlewoman should always do so unless very much fatigued, and you do look tired.”

“I’m not used to long rides, my lady,” said Langcostard. “I set out as soon as I had your husband’s letter.”

“We hoped you would be here for dinner, but did not expect you so soon,” said Jane. “But I caught sight of you out of my sitting-room window, and you looked a little lost. It’s a rambling great place. Ah! Jem, isn’t it?” she caught sight of a groom. “Can you see to Mr. Langcostard’s nag please? And you’d better send someone to inform his lordship that he has arrived.”

Jem tugged his forelock and took the horse, and was later to inform his fellows that there must be more to the Robin Redbreast than met the eye, if my lady, who was no fool, treated him like a gentleman.

“Where is his lordship?” asked Langcostard.

“Supervising and helping with the haying in the west field, whilst Cousin Christopher helps with the south field,” said Jane. “I doubt there will be time to ride out to make an arrest today, however.”

“Oh! I did not think there would be, but I wanted to see his lordship about it as soon as possible. He wrote that you were the witness?”

“Yes, I saw the gypsies on the common, or men dressed as gypsies,” said Jane. “Mind the watering-can, I can’t lift it full, and Ormkirk, the gardener, takes disobliging to new heights,” she warned, leading Langcostard into a well-appointed conservatory where a watering-can stood in the way. A door led into a passage.

“I have to tell you, my lady, that I should, for my records, search for the runaway Miss Frith and her swain, as you have been accused of hiding them.”

“Dear me! I hope that fellow, Frith, did not use such language to you as he used to us. Gerard is suing him.”

“He did, and there’s more to that, but if I may look around?”

“Help yourself; the priest’s hole is now water-closets, for the staff here, and under the staircase in the vestibule through there. The drains go through the secret tunnel, but I don’t know if you can get into it. Milton! Can one get to the tunnel?”

“Not without some difficulty, my lady,” said Milton who had come out of his room.

“Please show Mr. Langcostard over the house, including any secret rooms, stairs, or passages you know; he is doing this for our protection.”

“Her ladyship is very astute,” said Langcostard. “His lordship and her ladyship have been accused of harbouring and hiding a runaway and an abductor, and if I can say I have seen everything, I can better swear that they are not here.” He smiled wryly. “Of course, if they were here, I am equally certain that a good and loyal group of servants would manage to hide them successfully; please do not feel that I denigrate your ingenuity, Milton.”

“Well, sir, that’s as may be, but they ain’t here.”

“They’re still in Dunstable, establishing residency, as Miss Frith has a letter from her father which can be construed as permission to wed her swain,” said Jane, brightly. “They don’t need to go to Scotland at all, not with an ordinary licence.”

“Oh, very clever,” said Langcostard. “And you and his lordship wouldn’t be delaying Frith in his attempts to find the happy couple by letting him think you were them, and a perfectly good reason for his lordship to cover his face.”

“It does make a difference to him, to avoid neuralgia,” said Jane.  “Any doctor would tell you so, and as it so happened that we planned to honeymoon here....”

“Oh, of course. You have no idea why Frith followed you,” said Langcostard. “I wouldn’t want to be his daughter, or his daughter’s young man, if caught up with, but of course, the law says I have to look.”

“Come along, then, Mr. Langcostard,” said Milton. “You can crawl along the passage by the drains if you like, too, but I wouldn’t suggest a lady going down it. There’s a few secret staircases as well, but you shall see them all.”

“I ain’t going to enjoy this, nowise, and I’d kill for a cup of tea, but I have to say I didn’t delay,” said Langcostard, regretfully.

“I’m sure a cup of tea could be had if you’ll carry it,” said Milton, softening.

“And Mr. Langcostard will be dining with us, informally,” said Jane.

“Very good, my lady,” said Milton.

 

oOoOo

 

Langcostard collapsed into a chair in Jane’s sitting room where she presided over more tea and cakes, three cups being set.

“I’m expecting Gerard, but he would tell us to go ahead,” she said. “Have some cakes to restore you.  I suspect you’ve seen more of the house than I have, to date.”

“Gawd bless  you, milady,” said Langcostard. “Mebbe I have, at that; up into the attics, dahn into the cellars, and the creepy-crawly hole between cellar and drains, it being floored over in the cloakroom.”

“Fascinating!” said Jane. “I must go and look, some day.  Have you seen my secret stair up to my bedroom?”

“Uh, no?” said Langcostard.

“Oh, you must see it! But I pray, go up alone, I do not want anyone levelling accusations of you being in my bedroom.”

“I’ll show you, old man,” said Gerard, coming in. “My apologies; I’m improperly attired, but I wasn’t about to hang you about, though Milton tells me you had plenty to do.” He showed the Bow Street officer the stair.

“It’s a right nice cosy house, my lord,” said Langcostard. “But powerful big.”

“You should see the Hall in Wiltshire,” said Gerard. “Or rather, you would groan to do so. Though it hasn’t as many corners, and doors hidden as panelling.”

“Well, that’s what makes it cosy; it has character,” said Langcostard.  “I seen my lady’s bedroom through the door from the other side; I can’t imagine a young couple lurking on these stairs, and that teapot has my name on its contents.” He turned back.

“Mine too,” said Gerard. “I hate haymaking, but it has to be done.”

“Aye, all dry and dusty, and it’s up your nose and in your throat,” said Langcostard, as they exited.

“Oh, you’re a country boy?” asked Gerard, slipping into the chair next to Jane with a brief salute to her lips as he did so.

“Until I was going on thirteen, and da died,” said Langcostard, and found himself telling the story of how he became a Bow Street Officer.

“Well, if the corruption gets too bad and you need a change, I can find you a job as a bailiff,” said Gerard.

“Well, speaking of corruption, I’ve done something which ain’t according to the rules, but hearing a man slandered is not what I can stomach; but it’s a civil matter, not criminal.  Only I got that fellow Frith to write out his slanders, and set his name to them,” said Langcostard. He got the pages out of his inside pocket. “I thought your lawyer might have a field day with them.”

“Invaluable!” said Gerard, glancing through. His eyebrow rose and fell a few times. “Yes, he might have claimed that the servants would lie to back me up, but deny his own writing he cannot. My thanks!  I am in your debt.”

“On the contrary, my lord; I owe you a great deal for a lead on the coiners,” said Langcostard. “Perhaps we can talk about that?”

“It was Jane who noticed that they had a large structure with a chimney,” said Gerard.

“It wasn’t on a cart, and it was more solid-looking than I’d expect of a gypsy farrier,” said Jane. “I doubt I’d have noticed, or registered that anything was out of place, save for you telling us about the coining. And there were no women or children.”

“That is not a common band of gypsies,” said Langcostard, immediately interested. “How many were there?”

“A couple of dozen,” said Jane.

“More than twenty,” said Gerard.

Langcostard whistled.

“They don’t often travel in bands that big,” he said. “I’ll need men.”

“That’s why I wanted to get the hay in,” said Gerard. “I thought that if we could present a band to be made temporary constables to Sir Gifford – Sir Gifford Peakes is the magistrate covering the region – he would likely sign off on the paperwork. I know him slightly; he was a friend of my father’s but I think he would take my word.”

“Perhaps if you and I go and visit him as early as you think he would be abroad, with your men following?” suggested Langcostard.

“Yes, that sounds ideal,” said Gerard. “I wish my man was with me, but he has cousins who are handy in a scrap.”

“Good,” said Langcostard.

 

Later, eating an excellent meal of the sort Langcostard never expected to see again in his life, he asked the question that had been nagging at him.

“I ain’t complainin’ my lord,” he said, “But you and your lady have treated me like gentry from the beginning, and I’m wondering why.”

Gerard considered.

“Partly, it was your manner, which was pleasing,” he said. “And partly because, as you are sent, essentially, as a deputy to the Magistrate of Bow Street, er....”

“Sir Nathaniel Connant,” supplied Langcostard.

“Sir Nathaniel, indeed,” said Gerard, “Why, then, I should act towards you as if I had Sir Nathaniel as a visitor, as you are his proxy.  Now, I’m not saying I’d have looked at it that way, if you’d been at all uncouth.”

“I am uncouth, my lord; I’m watching you to see what cutlery to use.”

“Ah, but you’re watching and doing your best; and table manners come a long way down my list of what is couth and what is uncouth, compared to your manner. Which is polite without being cringing, and with a proper respect towards ladies. Moreover, Star likes you,” he added, as Star had quietly squirmed into Langcostard’s lap.

“I think he sees me as a soft touch, my lord,” said Langcostard, giving up pretending that the dog was not there, and fussing his silky ears.

“There is a degree of cupboard love in it,” said Gerard. “But he was pressing against Jane and cowering when that Frith fellow turned up.”

“He was shaking,” said Jane. “Poor boy.”

The poor boy wagged his plume of a tail, making Langcostard grab nervously for his glass of wine.

“Pest, you mean,” said Gerard. “But I am a great believer in the idea that dogs, and cats too, are good judges of character.”

“They seem to have senses we do not,” agreed Langcostard.

 

Shortly he was pleased to be shown to a guest room which was not too opulent; but he had already noticed that the rooms his lordship and her ladyship used were also not too opulent.

His bed was soft, deep, and warmed with a hot brick, around which his nightgown had been wrapped.

Mr. Langcostard reflected that whilst life would not be as cushy as this as a bailiff on one of his lordship’s estates, he might just be a lot more comfortable than he currently was, even with out of town cases at a guinea a day.