The Captain's Daughter (19 page)

Amy noticed that Emma was taking
great interest in what was being said and who was saying it. She made a mental
note to ask later what was so intriguing to Emma, but she forgot, and only much
later did she realize what was going through her sister’s mind.

When the meal was over and everyone
adjourned to the sitting room, the Compte and Lord Eskman both declined an
invitation to gather with the others. They were very apologetic but they said
they must go. As they bade goodnight to the ladies, the younger ones last, Amy
was disturbed to see that look that was so familiar to her in Mattie’s eyes, as
Mattie’s eyes met those of Lord Eskman.

Surely she cannot be attracted
to that old man
, thought Amy. Although, in looking at him through Mattie’s
eyes she supposed he was somewhat good looking in a rough, older sort of way.

Her thoughts were interrupted by
Lord Eskman who surprised her with the question: “Compte d’Belleisle tells me
you and your sister made a visit to Bristol today on some business with a
gentleman, a neighbor of yours. I trust it was an enjoyable and profitable
journey.”

“Oh...Oh yes, Lord Eskman, but
regrettably it was not profitable, although it did prove a pleasant
distraction.”

Her reply was not what she would
have preferred in retrospect, but he did take her by surprise.
Why did he
say that?
She decided she was being over-reactive and reading something
suspicious into everything that was said.
Don’t be silly, Amy. He was just
being polite,
she told herself. But her argument to herself was just not
that convincing.

That evening, Mattie gushed about
how handsome the stranger was, much to both Amy’s and Emma’s disgust,

“Ugh,” said Emma her face contorted
into a combination of horror and revulsion, “he’s so old, practically a
fossil.”

Mattie paid little attention to
Emma’s disapprobation, since she felt her own judgment about male handsomeness
was much more cultivated and accomplished than that of her little inexperienced
sister.

Amy was much more occupied with her
thoughts about the guests of that evening. What were they up to? Was she just
being too suspicious and turning a friendly visit into some sort of conspiracy?
What did she have to go on? She mentally listed the facts. The Frenchman looked
like a Compte, he talked like a French aristocrat, although her knowledge and
acquaintance with that breed was a trifle thin. He seemed genuine. He
repeatedly emphasized that he wanted to help his exiled countrymen escape the
threat of the dreaded Committee of Public Safety. If he was up to some dark and
dastardly deed or in some plot, why would he even reveal himself?

And yet, she had a very bad feeling
about him when he visited their family home in Stockley-on-Arne, and she could
not shake the feeling and suspicion. Of course, she had felt uncomfortable
about Ben with all the dark happenings at his house and the immediate
surroundings, but now she felt she had been mistaken and most unfair to Ben. So
much so, that she now felt ashamed. Perhaps, it was the same way with the
Frenchman. Maybe they were all on the same side.

As she was readying for bed, her
mother came with a small piece of paper.

“Amy, dear, with all the terrible
things that happened today, I forgot to bring you this note. It came this
evening.”

The note was from Ben.

By chance, one of
the young men in this house, whose acquaintance I have just made, has some
information that has pointed me in what I believe is the right direction in our
search for answers, and I am most anxious to follow up on it. There is a
partial moon tonight, therefore I am returning to Bristol this evening.

Amy doused her bedside candle and
went to the window. She pulled aside the drapes. The light from the partial
moon that softly entered through the window was slight. The garden in the back
of the house was only dimly lit. It would not be easy for a traveler that
night, especially where the road was shrouded with trees.

“Oh Ben,” Amy pleaded out loud as a
tear ran down her cheek, “please be safe.”

Amy’s prayers
were answered. Two days later, Ben was
on the front steps of the Quillin home.

It was early afternoon and Mattie,
Emma, and Cassandra were out somewhere in town undoubtedly fraternizing with
the locals. Lady Sibbridge, Lady Ramsey, and Mrs. Wardsley were in the sitting
room officially engaged in needlework but more likely engaged in what might
politely be called the exchange of information. Sir Frank had taken Amy’s
father for a walk because it was a brisk but pleasant summer day in Bath and
Sir Frank felt that his old comrade needed fresh air.

Seating themselves in the drawing
room, Ben extracted some notes from his satchel.

“This was a profitable journey,”
said Ben.

“I’m just glad you made it back
safely,” said Amy. “I appreciate your help but I would never forgive myself if
something happened to you, and riding to Bristol Wednesday night seemed to me
to be very risky.”

“Not at all,” remonstrated Ben, “it
was a clear night and I made good time.”

“It’s just that there are many evil
men at large on the highways of England.”

“Don’t worry about me,” laughed
Ben. “I can outride any brigand, or brigands, and I can outshoot them too.”

“Please, don’t be over-confident
Ben. I worry for your safety.”

He paused and looked up from his
papers and gave Amy a knowing smile. She resisted, but could feel herself turn
red. She wondered if she had given him the wrong signal.
After all
, she
said to herself,
we’re only friends
.

In order to head off any wrong
impression he might derive from what she just said, she quickly added: “I was
worried about you as I would worry about anyone I knew who made a short journey
to Bristol and did not return for two whole days.”

He looked at her and smiled. “I
don’t believe it was two whole days. I left Wednesday evening, and I am back
here early Friday afternoon. Anyway, it’s all your fault.”

“What do you mean my fault?”

“If you’re going to be in some way
linked to a ship owner and captain whose demise requires the intervention of a
coroner’s jury, try and get them to meet their end in the same county where
they ply their trade.” He paused, as she looked unhappy at what he had just
said. “I’m really sorry, Amy, I didn’t mean to be insensitive. It’s just that
the stretch of the Avon where they drowned is in Gloucestershire.”

“You had to go to Gloucester?”

“The worst part is I spent most of
the morning at the coroner’s court in Bristol, before it was determined that it
was outside of their jurisdiction. So I had to ride to Gloucester which is much
further from Bristol than the distance from Bristol to Bath. It took half the
afternoon to get there, and I know this will scare you, but it was well past
nightfall before I was back in Bristol. And it was not as clear last night, and
I had never made the journey before yesterday. But I survived with a few close
calls. That is why I spent the night in Bristol.”

“Ben, you have to take care.”

Sensing the anguish in her voice,
he laughed: “Maybe I’m being a little too dramatic and over-emphasizing the
dangers. I made the journey safely and I’m sitting here next to you instilling
fear and terror.”

He might make light of it, but Amy
was not convinced.

“And as I said, the journey with
all its hazards was quite productive,” added Ben.

“Are the things the old man and the
girl told us true?”

“That is the question, Amy,” said
Ben looking at his notes. “That is the question. Joseph Sallison, the carter
and stablehand, did indeed testify at the inquest just as he said. Also, so did
Sir Hugh’s son Ishmael Anselan, a certain Francis Whittle, the clerk from the
shipping company, Frank Whittleyson, and even the family butler.”

“What about the first mate?” asked
Amy.

“There was no record of him
testifying, but the records might be incomplete. Coroner’s records are
sometimes not as rigorous as those in a normal court of law. What is
interesting although certainly not illogical is Caroline Buchanan, the
captain’s mother, testified. She was coming down from the north to see her son,
but was delayed by the muddy roads. When she arrived he was already dead.”

“That is so sad,” said Amy.

“It was indeed, because she had to
identify the body of her son.”

“Was there no one else that could
identity him?”

“I’m sure there must have been, but
she was the most obvious. She was also present at the funeral not only on her
own behalf as his mother, but on behalf of Sir Hugh.”

“Ishmael Anselan wasn’t at his
father’s funeral?”

“I don’t know. The records are not
conclusive about many things. What is also sad is that Caroline Buchanan had to
identify the bodies of her daughter-in-law and granddaughter when they washed
up on the beach later on. It was noted that they were in very bad condition,
but I suppose she recognized the clothing or perhaps an item of jewelry.”

Amy had to fight back tears both
for the sadness of the situation and out of sympathy for the captain’s mother.

“According to the testimony given
to the coroner’s jury, the captain and his wife, along with their daughter who
was about one year old, were invited to visit Sir Hugh at his estate. The
reason for the invitation seems to have been to tell the captain he had been
assigned to command a new and bigger ship. Why this involved a trip to his
estate seems unusual, but still quite reasonable. His mother was asked if she
knew why the captain and his family were invited to visit Sir Hugh at his
country house, but her son had not told her about the visit.”

“It seems to me that inviting
someone who is so important to your enterprise to visit doesn’t seem at all
unusual,’ said Amy.

“That’s true,” agreed Ben, “but I
wonder if there was more to it. One odd fact is that the captain and his family
were accompanied on the fatal coach trip by Sir Hugh’s personal solicitor as
well as the attorney’s clerk. They might have been there on unrelated business,
but maybe not. That is the sort of thing that could be important but we have no
way of knowing. Why they were at Sir Hugh’s no one seemed to know and it was
not really the subject of inquiry at the inquest.”

“So the passengers in the coach
were the captain, his wife and baby daughter, the lawyer, and the lawyer’s
clerk. The only person on the wagon was Joseph Sallison. I suppose the first
mate would have remained on board the Bristol Ark,” said Amy.

“That about sums it up,” agreed
Ben. “It seems that John and Margaret, or Madge, Buchanan along with their tiny
daughter Agnes died that day, so I don’t know where that leaves us.”

“Was that all the visitors at the
estate?”

“It seems so, just Sir Hugh
Anselan, his son Ishmael, and the household servants were the only ones there
after the coach left. According to the testimony, because of the number of
passengers, they had to load the luggage on the wagon and Joseph followed
behind them, but because the coach was faster it pulled out of sight. When
Joseph rounded the bend, where the road runs along beside the River Avon, he
testified he could not see the coach at first, and then horrified he spots it
floating down the rain-swollen river until it becomes lodged on the pilings of
the bridge.”

“Was there nothing else of
interest?”

“Well, the men who recovered the
coach said they recovered the bodies of a man in a captain’s uniform and two
men in the type of garb common to lawyers and clerks and men of similar
professions, but they did not find the body of Margaret or her daughter, Agnes,
but we already knew that. It was their opinion that the river was so swollen
and swift that they were fortunate to recover any bodies at all.”

“You said that the butler
testified, why?”

“He saw the party leave and
confirmed who was on the coach, and also that Joseph was the sole person on the
wagon. What is rather interesting is that the clerk who wrote the summary noted
that the butler seemed very nervous. But there is nothing unusual in that. Many
common folks have that reaction in court proceedings.”

“But,” said Amy, “that would also
be true if he was lying. Remember we were told that Joseph was troubled by his
own testimony. His granddaughter said he lied at the inquest. If the butler was
lying to corroborate Sallison’s testimony, why do you think they might be
lying? If it was Ishmael Anselan that coerced them into lying, why would that
be? Why would he want them to lie? It doesn’t seem to make sense.”

“I cannot think of a reason,” said
Ben.

Amy looked puzzled. “Something must
be eluding us.”

“That could be true,” agreed Ben,
“or the girl could either be making up a tale to give you your sixpence worth
of intrigue, or it is also quite possible that Joseph’s drunken ramblings were
confused and imaginary.”

“I don’t know,” said Amy. “What the
girl said was quite persuasive, and why would a drunken old man make up such
stories. That just doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Are you sure you don’t just want
there to be more to it. Human nature loves a mystery or riddle, and we tend to
look for mysteries that aren’t there. This was testimony to an unfortunate
accident. No one knew that the coach would plunge into the river and drown its
passengers. They could not know that in advance. It just leaves no room for
intrigue. So what possible reason could anyone have for lying, and leaving
themselves open to severe punishment by the law? Amy...”

“Yes?”

“Think about this. Can you tell me
any motive anyone would have to lie about the accident? What could anyone gain
by lying?”

Just then, their conversation was
interrupted by the Quillins’ butler.

“Sir Benjamin, a gentleman just
left this note.”

He held out a silver tray and Ben
took the note from it. He thanked the butler and dismissed him. Then he opened
the note and frowned.

“I’m sorry, Amy, but I must go and
take care of an urgent matter.”

As he rose and put the papers back
in his satchel, Amy hastily told him of the visit of the Compte d’Belleisle.

“Who,” asked Ben.

“The Compte d’Belleisle. At least
that is what he said his name is.”

Ben frowned. She quickly told him
what the Compte had said about Pierre.

“Where did you become acquainted
with this Frenchman?”

Amy told Ben all she could recall
about the Frenchman and what he had said, and what had transpired.

“Don’t worry about Pierre, he is
quite safe. And don’t worry, so are you and your family.”

She accompanied Ben to the front
door. As he made his way down the front steps, she called to him.

“Ben, there is one thing that
troubles me.”

“What is that, Amy?”

“I know this may sound foolish, but
just suppose the coach falling into the River Avon was not an accident.”