Gideon the Cutpurse (10 page)

* * *

The morning of departure had arrived, and the whole Byng family and most of their servants had been milling about on the gravel forecourt since breakfast. The July sun was already beating down mercilessly. Kate and Peter longed to set off, and all this waiting seemed interminable. Sweat trickled down Peter's back, but he did not dare remove his jacket. Kate, too, was suffering under the weight of her complicated attire, and was fanning herself madly with the painted fan Mrs. Byng had given to her. Mrs. Byng had explained about the language of fans--if you held it in this way, it meant "I like you," and in another it meant "go away." Whatever else Kate's frantic fanning signified, it principally said, "I am suffocating.
Please
let me undo these awful stays."
Four sturdy chestnut horses were harnessed to a gleaming black carriage. The horses stood patiently, chewing on the iron bits in their mouths while footmen clambered onto the roof of the carriage, fastening down trunks. One of them lost his grip on a heavy crate and nearly sent it crashing to the ground. There was the sound of clinking glass as he dived down and grabbed it just in time.
"Well caught, Andrew," called out Mrs. Byng. "That would have been unfortunate, indeed," she observed to the older children. "That chest contains Parson Ledbury's supply of port. He is convinced that every tavern keeper between here and London will water down his wine."
Peter watched a stable boy arrive with two horses. Gideon, who had been helping organize the trunks, now came forward. He walked slowly around the stable horses, stroking their heads and talking quietly to them. He examined their eyes and their hooves and pulled up their gums so he could see their teeth. Then he got the stable lad to run around the forecourt with them on a long lead so he could watch them canter.
"I will take the black stallion," Gideon said to the stable boy. "What is his name?"
"Midnight, sir. He's fast and strong, sure enough," replied the boy, "but there's not one of us stable lads he hasn't kicked."
"Good!" said Gideon. "I like an animal with some fight in him."

* * *

Poor Jack Byng was clearly not keen on the idea of traveling to London. Despite all his sisters' efforts to cheer him up, he was clinging to his mother's skirts like a sailor to a mast in rough seas.
"Uncle Richard writes he will take you in a rowboat to Eel Pie Island and that you will ride on a donkey at Vauxhall Gardens, where you will see all the fine ladies and gentlemen," said one sister. "We girls are all jealous because we simply long to go."
"And King George will touch you and cure you of the scrofula," said another.
"I am better already," protested little Jack through several layers of fabric.
He steadfastly refused to leave his mother, and Mrs. Byng was forced to drag him around like a third leg. Only when Peter offered to have a game of footie with him did he peep out from the folds of her dress. Mesmerized by his fancy footwork, Jack followed Peter as he dribbled the ball onto the lawn. Mrs. Byng mouthed her thank you to Peter and suggested to Sidney that he join in. Sidney merely looked on in a very condescending fashion, striking a pose with one foot forward, a hand on one hip, and his chin thrust into the air.
What a plonker,
thought Peter, booting the ball right at him so that he had to catch it.
"Gadzooks, sir!" Sidney exclaimed. "You might have dirtied my waistcoat!"
Jack immediately struck the same imperious pose as his elder brother and repeated in his own high voice, "'Gadzooks, sir. You might have dirtied my waistcoat!'"
All his sisters laughed so hard and for so long that the servants had to bite their lips in order not to join in, and Sidney, furious, stomped off into the house.

* * *

Peter suddenly felt Kate's hand on his arm.
"I'll be back in a minute," she whispered into his ear.
"Why? What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to leave a clue for my friend Megan," Kate replied.
"What do you mean?" asked Peter.
"Never mind. It probably won't work anyway."
Kate made her way to the back of the house and found the stairs that led to the coal cellar. She crept slowly down them, touching the rough brick walls and marveling at how new and clean they looked. She was used to seeing them black with centuries of coal dust and glistening with damp. Kate remembered when she had first come here. It was after a gang of Year 8 girls were mean to her during her first ever week at the school. They said they could smell that she lived on a farm and that her lace-up shoes were so uncool even grannies wouldn't wear them.... Megan had eventually found her here. They both ended up skipping science and got detentions. This became their special place. Kate crouched down in the exact spot where she and Megan always sat on their backpacks when they wanted to be alone.
A long strand of red hair tumbled down as Kate removed an iron hairpin. She started to scratch at the soft brick with it, biting her lip in concentration. Every so often she would blow the dust away to inspect her handiwork.
Oh, Megan,
she thought,
what would you say if you saw me in this stupid dress? I wish you were here too--No, I don't. Then you'd be stuck in 1763 as well.
Kate finished her message and wiped the red dust off her hands.
"I'm counting on you, Megan!" she said out loud. "Tell my dad!"

* * *

All the preparations were complete by the time Kate returned. It was only then that the cheerful red face of Parson Ledbury appeared at the front door. He stood in the sunshine and wiped away the remains of breakfast with his handkerchief. He bid the assembled company a good morning, and Mrs. Byng's comment that she was grateful to him for rising
so early
went straight over his head.
"Splendid!" he commented, surveying the carriage laden with luggage and provisions, and the well-groomed horses. "Is there anything more pleasing in the world than the prospect of a fine day's traveling in good company?" he asked. "Watch out for the off-leader, there," he advised the coach driver. "She shied at a hen in the road last month and nearly had us all floundering in the ditch."
When Mrs. Byng introduced him to Peter and Kate, he bowed low to Kate and squeezed Peter's hand a little too firmly. "I hope your cold in the nose has improved, Master Schock, although the loudness of your sneezes are such we could use you in fog to warn other travelers of our presence."
Peter reddened a little, and the parson gave him a friendly thump on the back that almost sent him sprawling.
"Damn shame about your encounter with that scoundrel in Dovedale. Still, lightning doesn't strike twice in the same place."
Parson Ledbury leaned down and picked up little Jack, who gladly sat on the big man's shoulders and pretended to ride a horse.
"Well," the parson continued, "it seems that we are to be a proper party on our way to London, and I cannot say that I am sorry, for the road is hard and dangerous. We shall make a brave show to any footpad, highwayman, or cutpurse that crosses our path, shall we not?" Here he paused to glare at Gideon. "We've got enough bottom for an army, eh, Master Jack?" he roared, causing the little lad to put his hands over his ears. Kate and Peter looked at each other and smirked. "Bottom?" Peter mouthed.
"Don't you know what bottom is?" exclaimed the parson. "You must come from the most out-of-the-way place. A man without bottom, sir, will soon go to the wall. Bottom is
courage
. And I shall expect every member of the party to show their bottom on this journey!"
The parson deposited Jack on the ground and walked over to Gideon, leaving Kate and Peter chuckling silently about the quality they were required to exhibit for the trip.
They saw Gideon look up expectantly at the parson, who neither bowed nor extended his hand to him. Instead he said in a quiet and deadly serious voice that everyone could hear, "I have my eye on you, Mr. Seymour, and do not forget it. You have Mrs. Byng's trust, you do not have mine. One step out of line and you'll rue the day you ever set foot in Derbyshire."
The children saw the color drain from Gideon's face and heard Mrs. Byng's sharp intake of breath. For a moment everyone thought Gideon would strike the parson, and a terrible hush fell upon the gathering. Gideon mastered himself, never taking his eyes off the parson.
"As God is my witness," Gideon declared, "the Byng family, who has shown me such generosity, can expect nothing less than my devotion and loyalty. And for the sake of Mrs. Byng and her good brother, Sir Richard, I will not, on this occasion, hold this ill-judged threat against you. But know this, Parson Ledbury, I answer only to God and my own conscience. If you insult me in this way again, be prepared to accept the consequences."
Gideon turned his back on the parson and continued making adjustments to Midnight's saddle. The parson walked back to the carriage, and everyone started talking hurriedly as if nothing had occurred. Mrs. Byng, however, throwing a thunderous glance in her cousin's direction, went over to have a quiet word with Gideon. A moment later Gideon had mounted the black stallion and was galloping up the drive.
"You will be pleased to know, cousin," announced Mrs. Byng with some irritation, "that Mr. Seymour prefers
not
to ride to London with the party in the circumstances and intends to travel alone."
"I feel sure that Mr. Seymour will now think twice before trying to pull the wool over our eyes," said the parson.
"Where is your Christian charity, cousin?" asked Mrs. Byng. "Must he forever be judged on what he did when little more than a child? Besides, you are basing your concerns on mere rumor and speculation. You are wrong to tar him with the same brush as Lord Luxon..."
"Then tell me why the fellow must be so mysterious about his reasons for returning so suddenly to London, when he has scarcely just arrived?"
"He was not mysterious with
me
," Mrs. Byng replied, "but I saw no cause to share his reasons with all the world when he asked me to be discreet."
The parson appeared a little awkward for the first time. "I am sorry, madam, if, in my enthusiasm for your welfare, I have acted in such a way as to displease you."
Mrs. Byng hesitated, then smiled and held out her hand. "Come, cousin, I know you intended well. You have a long journey ahead of you; let
us
, at least, be friends."
Peter and Kate exchanged crestfallen looks. How were they going to find the Tar Man without Gideon? What would they do when they got to London?

* * *

The Byng sisters said their good-byes to Sidney and managed to peel Jack from his mother's embrace and deposit him in Hannah's lap. Mrs. Byng bid Peter and Kate write to her when they were safely reunited with their uncle, and wished the whole party Godspeed.
The parson and Sidney squeezed onto the narrow bench on top of the carriage with the coach driver. Parson Ledbury insisted on taking the reins while the driver cracked his whip over the horses' heads and clicked his tongue to get them moving. The rest of the party sat on slippery leather seats inside the stuffy carriage, now full of the sounds of creaking wood, groaning axles, and the clinking of Parson Ledbury's bottles of port. They all leaned out of the windows to wave their good-byes. Baslow Hall, the elegant figure of Mrs. Byng, and the row of sisters fluttering their handkerchiefs aloft slowly receded into the distance, and Peter realized how lucky they had been to have encountered these kind folk. The horses picked up their pace, and the broad carriage wheels seemed to thunder over the stony track past mighty elms, rolling green fields, and vast flocks of bleating sheep. Soon they were headed for London and the open road.
The warm July wind blew through the open window and fanned Peter's face. He stared at the breathtaking scenery without seeing it.
Gideon couldn't even be bothered to say good-bye,
he thought.
He said he was going to help--yet another grown-up who says one thing and does another.

TEN
Attack!
In which Dr. Dyer meets the NASA scientists and the travelers make an unwelcome acquaintance

A thick bank of cloud hung over the valley in the gathering gloom. Inside the farmhouse the relentless
tick-tock
of a grandfather clock measured out the seconds that had passed since Mr. and Mrs. Dyer had last seen their eldest child. Although it was only a quarter to four, it was already nearly dark. Outside in the farmyard Margrit, who had stayed on to help, could be heard counting to a hundred while the four youngest children scurried about finding places to hide out of the cold wind. A sickly yellow light seeped into the dusk from an upstairs window. Sam, who was nearly ten, had refused to come out of his room since lunchtime, and his parents had thought it best not to force him.
Dr. Dyer broke the silence. "It's almost the longest night of the year."
Mrs. Dyer sat looking out of the front window and was staring at the gray landscape through red-rimmed eyes. "And it will be Christmas day this time next week...." She lifted a cup of tea halfway to her lips, then lowered it down again, as if just sitting propped up in the high-backed chair was taking up all her energy. She let the cup drop heavily onto the saucer with a clink, and the tea slopped over the sides. She pushed it away. Kate's disappearance had hit her so hard, the pain of it was almost physical. Every motherly instinct was screaming at her to go after Kate, to defend her from attack, to protect her from harm, to tear the countryside apart until she could stroke her daughter's lovely red hair again. But there was nothing for her to do but endure the anguish of waiting. All she could do was wait and hope. Above all she must not give up hope, for everybody's sake she must not give up hope.
"
Do
you think that Peter could have been unhappy enough to run away?" Mrs. Dyer asked her husband.
"He didn't seem particularly upset to me...but then, I don't know him. Margrit says he was about as worked up that morning as she'd ever seen him. I'm sure Detective Inspector Wheeler is right to take that into account. But there's no way that Kate would have run away with him. She wouldn't have even gone after Peter to stop him before coming back and telling me first."
"No, of course she wouldn't," said Mrs. Dyer. "She's far too sensible."
"And they both seemed so happy a moment before, laughing at Molly and the Van de Graaff generator. Why would Peter choose that moment to do a runner, in a building surrounded by security guards and fences? No. I don't buy it."
They sat in silence again and listened to the wind wuthering down the chimney. When the telephone rang in the hall, they both jumped.
"It'll be another reporter," said Mrs. Dyer, desperately trying not to get her hopes up, for with each phone call she imagined the inspector's gruff voice announcing that they'd found Kate at last. Dr. Dyer walked over to answer it. Mrs. Dyer heard him say, "Of course I will, I'll come over straightaway."
"What is it?" asked his wife, all alight with hope.
He shook his head quickly. "No, no, still no news. It was Tim. The NASA scientists are over at the lab; they wondered if they could have a word. They offered to come over here, but I didn't think you'd feel like being sociable."