The Captain's Daughter (18 page)

“But that is not all,” said Amy,
“it gets more interesting. The accident with the coach occurred on April 29,
1773 and Sir Hugh died on May 17, 1773, as you know. The coroner’s jury met
while Sir Hugh was still alive but gravely ill. That much the girl knows but is
not aware of the dates. She remembers this because part of her grandfather’s
endless drunken rants is his fear because Ishmael Anselan forced him to testify
that he drove the wagon into Bristol. He has been scared ever since that
somehow the authorities will discover his lie and that he will suffer severe
punishment. He greatly fears the law, but he is terrified of Ishmael Anselan.
That is part of why he is so taciturn and defensive. I think the girl was far
from totally frank with me, but every time she spoke Ishmael Anselan’s name she
muttered:
He’s a bad one he is.
Her grandfather seems to fear for his
life.”

“I’m impressed, Amy Sibbridge. How
did you get so much information from the girl?”

“Quite simple. I showed her
sympathy. I spoke to her kindly—and, oh yes, I gave sixpence.”

“Sixpence,” said Ben. “You got all
that information for sixpence?”

“It might have been less, but I
found sixpence between the folds in my purse, so I gave her what I had.”

“I feel cheated,” said Ben with a
laugh.

“Men just lack discretion with
money,” said Amy. “Anyway, the girl said the old man was frightened that the
two in the wagon would turn up at the inquest, but they never did. Ishmael
assured him they wouldn’t, but he kept urging Joseph to keep his ears and eyes
open to try and find out who they were. Ishmael thought they’d fled out of fear
but he was uneasy about them.”

“I wonder why they didn’t appear at
the inquest,” mused Ben. “And why did Ishmael force Sallison to lie? I wonder
if the girl was telling you the truth or if the old man’s drunken rants were
just his imagination. None of this makes any sense.”

“You don’t think any of it is true?
Do you think they were just toying with us?”

“I don’t quite know what to think,”
said Ben. “But we can’t just let it go. We have to look into it. I would like
to talk with the two men who drove the wagon. If they were following close
enough they might have seen what occurred, but why didn’t they testify to the
coroner’s jury?”

“Maybe Ishmael got to them,”
suggested Amy.

“Then why was he so worried and
trying to find them?”

“Maybe he found them later,” said
Amy.

“You could be right,” said Ben,
“but we have to assume they are out there somewhere. We’ve got to find them.”

“But if Ishmael couldn’t find them
at the time, how after all these years can we ever hope to find them,” asked
Amy.

“Maybe we’re smarter than Ishmael
Anselan.”

Emma, who had been
uncharacteristically silent the entire time chose the pause in the conversation
to ask: “Why would Amy be in danger?”

“She’s right,” said Ben, “it makes
no sense. I can see no connection. There was a baby of about Amy’s age at the
time, but she drowned. We saw her grave. But even if the baby survived in this
confusing drama, it still doesn’t answer Emma’s question. Why would the baby be
in danger even back then, and now—it just makes no sense.”

Ben sat silently for a long and
dramatic minute as the coach swayed and rumbled on the road to Bath. No one
said a word.

And then he leaned out the window
of the coach and yelled to old Eben: “Turn the coach around, Eben. We’re going
back to Bristol. I’ve got to find out about Ishmael Anselan.”

Mrs. Parkhurst’s eyes snapped open
and she began to loudly protest, but nothing was going to turn Ben aside from
his mission.

“It’s getting on in the afternoon,”
said Ben, “but it is summer and we can still get home in daylight.”

Amy hoped he was right, because she
had no idea how he intended to find out about Ishmael Anselan or even what he
meant by that statement.

Back at the chandler in Bristol,
Ben was able to find out the story of Ishmael. It turned out that Ishmael
Anselan inherited his father’s business but there seemed to be some legal
trouble over the mansion and lands, he evidently did not get them, although the
last they heard some years ago was that he was fighting in court for the
property. A wastrel, he ran the business into the ground and spent all the
money he had inherited from his father. He sold the business or what remained
of it, but kept up his profligate ways. They believed he married a rich widow in
London. All this is hearsay, but Ben thinks it likely there is probably a good
bit of truth in it.

           
Because of the lateness of the hour they ate and headed back to Bath.

On the way to Bath, because of the
time of day, everyone was drowsy and they didn’t talk much. Suddenly, Amy broke
the silence.

“Do you think I’m her sister?”

“Whose sister? asked Ben

“The girl at the cottage.”

“ Why would we think that? said
Ben.

“I have to be related to someone.
And she had my coloring and build.”

“A great many young women in
England look more like you than that girl does,” said Ben.

Emma, who seemed asleep, hugged
Amy’s arm and said: “You’re
my
sister, Amy.

And then after a long pause, and
still with her eyes closed and with a gentle smile Emma added: “In many ways
I’m more like you than like Mattie.”

Amy grinned and said: “Mattie. I
hope Cassandra didn’t corrupt her too badly while we were away.”

Mrs. Parkhurst snorted loudly but
still seemed to be asleep. And they continued on to Bath in silence and thoughtfulness.

The party
arrived back at Lord and Lady Quillin’s
house in Bath very late in the afternoon. They had already left Ben at the home
of his friend.

A very distressed Lady Sibbridge
met them in the front hall.

“Mother, what’s wrong?” asked Amy
seeing her flustered and agitated state.

“You’re safe, thank God you’re
safe.” She was barely understandable through her tears. “After what happened to
Sir Frank and Lady Ramsey I feared the worst might happen to you.”

“Oh, mother, what happened to
them,” asked Amy turning pale.

Her mother patted her hand. “Oh, I
didn’t mean to upset you. Sir Frank and Lady Ramsey are safe. They are
upstairs. After their experience, she had to lie down. Sir Frank is with her
comforting her.”

“Mother,” Amy spoke firmly, “get
control of yourself and tell me what happened to the Ramseys.”

Emma and Mrs. Parkhurst had
gathered around as Lady Sibbridge burst into tears. At that moment, Mattie
attracted by the noise came out of the sitting room.

“Mattie, do you know why mother is
so upset?” asked Amy.

“On their way from London, Sir
Frank and Lady Ramsey came upon a most distressing sight,” said Mattie. “A
French family, who had just escaped the reign of terror in France, were waylaid
by highwaymen on the London to Bath road. The attackers killed their coachman.
The Ramsay’s took the family to their destination in Bath.”

“Right in broad daylight,” Lady
Sibbridge mumbled through her tears.

Amy started to speak but Mattie
held up her hand. “I think they will be down to dinner, at least, Sir Frank
should be, I don’t know anything more.”

Mrs. Parkhurst, her curiosity
satisfied, excused herself and headed for her room.

Amy patted her mother’s shoulder.
“Please don’t cry. Everything will be all right.” And aware of what would be
one of her mother’s fears, if not now, when she would think of it later, Amy
added, “Maybe we can hire a guard for the journey when we return home. Now, I
have to go upstairs to get dressed for dinner.”

Amy was about to follow Emma
upstairs when her mother grabbed her arm.

“With all the terrible things that
have happened, I almost forgot to tell you. Someone is waiting for you in the
drawing room. Oh, dear.”

“Someone is waiting to see me?” Amy
was genuinely surprised. “Do you know who she is?”

“It’s not a lady. It’s a
Frenchman.” And then after a pause, she added, “The Frenchman that visited us
at home in Stockley-on-Arne.”

And that was indeed whom Amy found
in the drawing room. The selfsame Frenchman who had visited them at home, and
who identified himself as the Compte d’Belleisle. It was the same Frenchman she
had encountered her first morning in Bath, in the Octagon Room of the New
Assembly Rooms, having a deep conversation with a man he introduced as Lord
Eskman.

As she entered, he sprang to his
feet, clicked his heals together, smiled a smile Amy did not like, bowed and
greeted her. “Good afternoon, Mademoiselle. Or should I say good evening. I
must apologize for my ignorance but with the times in our two countries
differing, I never know what to say at this time of day.”

She forced herself to smile and
greet him, while making a mental note to ask Emma or Sir Frank if the times
really differed in the two countries. Sir Frank would know since he had visited
the continent numerous times, and Emma would know, because Emma knew
everything.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of
your visit?” asked Amy quietly hoping that the divine injunction against lying
was not too strict.

“Did your mother tell you of the
horrific experience a family from my country were forced to endure this
afternoon?”

“She told me some, but she was very
upset and found it difficult to articulate.”

“Ah, yes. That is most
understandable. At any rate, Mademoiselle, I was present at the house where the
Sir Frank and Lady Ramsey so kindly and generously brought the unfortunate, and
need I add, terrified family. A most sad occurrence that they suffered through.

“When I found out from the Ramseys
that they were going to reside for a short time in the house where you were in
residence in Bath, and I mentioned my desire to renew my acquaintance with you
and your family, they kindly brought me thence since my own usual conveyance
was not currently available to me.”

“Yes, from what I heard it was
really frightening. But tell me Compte, is it true that you wish to speak to
me?”

“That is indeed true,
mademoiselle.”

“But was my mother, Lady Sibbridge,
not puzzled that you specifically wished to speak to me, since you and my
family are barely acquainted?”

“I explained to her that I
understood my request must seem most unusual, but I needed to talk to someone
who was in communication with your neighbor. I told her his name was, I
believed, Ben, and she confirmed that your neighbor was Sir Benjamin
Anstruther. And since she is well aware that he is a friend of yours and that
you were the best person to contact him, she was most willing that you talk to
me, because it is a matter of such great import.”

“Sir—Compte—I certainly have some
conversations with Sir Benjamin, but we are not friends. We are only acquainted
because we have some common interests...”

Amy had been about to explain that
he was trying to help her solve a mystery, but realized that might not be wise
since she did not know anything about the man other than what he claimed and
she did not trust what he said. She was thankful when he asked no questions
about her and Ben.

“Ah, Mademoiselle, but you do have
converse with him and that is very important, because what I have to speak to
you about is a matter of life and death.”

“Life and death?”

“Yes, Mademoiselle, that is most
truly what it is. In my coming here I am exposing myself to great danger. You
have heard some about what happened to that family from France this very day.
It is tragic that in my once happy land of France that the Reign of Terror guillotines
not only those of noble birth but many of humble birth as well. Once those of
noble birth as well as the others escape France they are usually safe since the
rabble have already taken all they own, but not always.”

“You are saying, Compte, that the
family that was attacked today was not attacked by common highwaymen. The
highwaymen have been very active lately.”

“That is what I am saying,
Mademoiselle. The
Comité de salut public,
The Committee of Public
Safety, may be most prominent in the carrying out of terror and murder in my
country, but secretly they have both eyes and ears and dangerous men in your
country. The attack on that poor family today was clearly an act of the
Comité
.”

“If what you say is true, why do
the authorities in England not put a stop to it?”

“Forgive me,
mademoiselle, I
have great respect for those in authority in your country, and yet I do not
think they really believe or understand the true depth of the threat. And the
attacks the agents of the
Comité
carry out are directed against
expatriates of France, and so your authorities put it down to common highwaymen
who overhear at some roadside inn that a French family is traveling down the
highway. And they are of the opinion that the highwaymen believe that all
French families are carrying all the wealth they could bring with them from
France, so are a most desirable target.”

“So you believe, Compte, that the
recent rash of robberies are the action of agents of the Reign of Terror.”

“Not all, mademoiselle, but many,
and especially the most cruel and bloody.”

“Even if that is true, what do I
and Sir Benjamin have to do with that?”

“As I mentioned, once a family or
individual is safely housed in England, they are usually not under threat by
the
Comité
but there are exceptions. Those who have worked against the
revolution or the work of the
Comité
, the
Comité
believes must be
hunted down and exterminated. They must die. You may know someone who is under
a death sentence by the
Comité
.”

Amy felt a chill run down her
spine. She now knew where this conversation was headed. The man that stood
before her dressed in all his finery like a strutting peacock and claiming to
be a member of the French nobility had sent his men to follow her to Ben’s
place. She feared they were after Pierre, or rather Ben’s guest who had called
himself Pierre. But if that were true, why would he be of interest to them?

“Who might that be, Compte?”

“I am one of those on the
assassin’s list. I apologize that I cannot reveal to you why. Your
friend...your acquaintance, forgive me, I almost forgot he is not your friend,
your acquaintance, Sir Benjamin, has an associate who is also on the assassin’s
list. I am told his name is Pierre, is that not right?”

When Amy did not answer, the Compte
shrugged his shoulders and continued.

“It is absolutely necessary that I
meet with him—with Pierre. I have vital information that I must convey to him.
His life is in great danger.”

Amy was sure that Pierre was fully
aware of the dangers he faced. But why was the Compte so intent in meeting
Pierre, or was it all a sham? And if he knew of a specific threat to Pierre,
why did he seem not know Pierre’s true name, if the name Pierre was a
pseudonym? Another thought crossed Amy’s mind. Supposing she was mistaken and
the Compte was genuine. This was a time of strange goings on, intrigues, and
threats. Who could you trust? Who was telling the truth? Once uncertainty
wedged its way into her conscious it actively constructed many possible
scenarios. She suddenly realized the Frenchman was closely watching her.

“You must realize, Compte, that Sir
Benjamin did have a visitor whom I think was named Pierre, but this visitor is
no longer there. I knew little about him when he was with my neighbor and I
know nothing about him now.”

“But perhaps your friend—I mean Sir
Benjamin, does. May I implore you to convey to Sir Benjamin that I must with
utmost urgency speak with his associate? I must emphasize, mademoiselle, it is
truly a matter of life and death.”

“I will do as you ask, Compte, but
if Sir Benjamin asks where to get in touch with you what should I tell him.”

“I will be in touch. And
mademoiselle, we seem to have met so often of late, it likely will not be long
before we meet once more.”

When Amy informed her mother of the
Frenchman’s imminent departure, Lady Sibbridge conveyed an invitation from Mrs.
Wardsley for the Compte to have dinner with them. Somewhat to Amy’s surprise he
agreed.

That night found additional guests
at the dinner table. Amy was relieved to see that Lady Ramsay was recovered enough
to accompany Sir Frank, and of course, the Compte d’Belleisle was there, but
there was also a surprise guest.

As the meal began, they were
interrupted by the arrival of this guest. He was announced by Lord and Lady
Quillin’s butler.

“Lord Eskman,” the butler announced
standing stiffly erect.

The Compte, who was sitting across
from Amy, somewhat to her discomfort, leaned towards her and in a loud whisper
said to Amy: “You met Lord Eskman at the New Assembly Rooms. Lady Sibbridge and
Mrs. Wardsley invited him to dinner at my suggestion.”

Why
Amy wondered to herself.
Why did he want Lord Eskman here at dinne
r? She desperately wanted to
speak with Emma but could not with the Frenchman’s two ears just a few feet
across the table.
His ears do look unusually large
she thought to
herself,
but maybe that’s because of his extra fancy wig
.

Sir Frank and Lady Ramsey vividly
described how they came across a horrifying scene early in the day. A carriage
with an aristocratic French family, fleeing the Reign of Terror with their
remaining possessions, had been waylaid by a gang of robbers. When their
coachman tried to outrun them, the robbers shot him. As he lay bleeding to
death on the highway, they robbed the family. After viciously beating the
father into unconsciousness and leaving him bleeding and propped against the
front wheel of the coach, they quickly left. The London to Bath road was a busy
road and they had done their dirty work in not more than five minutes.

Almost as the robbers disappeared
from view, the Ramsay’s coach came upon the sad and tragic and blood spattered
scene. The Frenchwoman, the mother, like many of the French nobility spoke no
English. To the French, their language was supreme and they need not speak
another language, but both Sir Frank and Lady Ramsay, as with all educated
Englishmen, spoke French.

Leaving the French family’s coach,
which had been damaged in the attack, at the side of the road, they rushed the
French family to Bath in the Ramsay’s coach so they could seek medical
attention. With both families crushed into the Ramsay’s coach, and Sir Frank
riding on the roof with his coachman and clutching the firearms he usually kept
concealed in his coach, they sped to Bath. Poor Lady Ramsay was crushed inside
the coach with the hysterical French mother at her elbow, and the blood-covered
French father sitting opposite in a groggy semi-conscious state.

Both Lord Eskman and the Compte,
made all the appropriate responses as the Ramseys told of their ordeal. They
bemoaned the dangers and threats of the day when a busy highway like the London
to Bath road could not be traversed in safety, without being set upon by gangs
of bandits. In fact, Lord Eskman had a great deal to say about the dangers of
travel, so much so that he dominated the conversation, at least that part of it
that involved the evil highwaymen and their unfortunate victims.