Another thing Tabby and I agreed about on our walk back was that we had to tell Amos about Cave’s death as soon as possible. He was due to come round to Abel Yard later, but it couldn’t wait. We crossed the park to Bayswater Road and went into the livery stables, standing aside for a couple of ladies and a groom riding out. Amos had just come in from a ride. He gave the reins of his horse to a groom and came over to us.
‘Something up?’ He saw from my face that this was serious and walked with me towards Rancie’s box, talking as we went. Tabby stayed in the yard. ‘There’s been a man enquiring after you. Yesterday evening. Tallish, long dark hair. He’s not at home with horses but reckoned he was interested in buying one. He said I’d been recommended to him by his friend, Mrs Carmichael. Then he wanted to know if I knew whether you were in town. If he’d been a friend he wouldn’t have needed to ask me, would he?’
We went into Rancie’s loosebox. She was there, rugged up. She’d been nosing at her hay net but turned when she saw me and gave that sound that’s lower than a whinny, more like a horse purring. The sight and the smell of her were something from another world – what had been my world. I stroked her nose.
‘Can you remember anything else about him?’
‘First glance, he looked respectable enough – a lawyer’s clerk, I’d have guessed – but underneath he was as nervy as a new colt, his eyes everywhere. Soft hat, black jacket, new-looking boots but cheap, badly tanned.’
‘Yellowish boots?’ The image of the poet came back into my mind. ‘Amos, he was the man on the sloop. They’re looking for me.’
‘I thought that might be it. So I went …’ A groom looked over the loose box door, wanting to know who should drive the phaeton for His Lordship. Amos sorted that out and turned back to me. ‘I thought if he’d come here, he’d probably gone to your house as well. Turns out he had, but the maid had her instructions from Mrs Martley and just told him you were out of town.’
‘Amos, the children …’
‘Don’t worry, we thought of that. Mrs Martley and I took them over to Mr and Mrs Brinkburn. Harry’s asking after you but they’re well. We made out to them it was a holiday.’
In my mind, I knew they’d be safe with Miles and Rosa, but I wouldn’t feel it in my heart till I had them in my arms. ‘What did you tell the Brinkburns?’
‘That somebody had been hanging round your house – no details. But Mr Miles knows something’s going on. I think we may have to tell the brothers after all. In fact …’ He hesitated and bent down to check a buckle on the rug girth that didn’t need checking. ‘I reckon it may be about time we told Sergeant Bevan you got away.’
‘We may have to in the end. Something else has happened.’ I told him about Cave’s death and Felicity’s brother.
‘And you don’t believe the brother had him killed?’
‘No. But the people at the woodworker’s shop will remember Maynard and ourselves enquiring for Cave’s address. If Cave’s body happens to be discovered, they’ll go to the workshops and probably get a good description of all three of us. I didn’t want to go to the police until we knew what was happening to Robert, but now …’
He turned away to straighten the rug. It hadn’t been out by more than an inch or two. Amos was seriously disturbed about something.
‘That’s the other thing I was coming to tell you. I think he might be back.’
‘Robert. When? Where?’
‘I don’t know where he is, if it is him. I’ve been keeping touch with the Dover coach drivers, buying them a drink now and again. One of them came to see me just before I went out on the ride. He was driving the coach that arrived from Dover yesterday evening. He reckons a man who looked very much like Mr Carmichael was with them as far as Dartford.’
‘So he wasn’t certain. Had he seen Robert before or was he just going on the description?’ I was rocked sideways thinking of Robert so near.
‘He’d seen him on the journey out. He said this gentleman had a beard—’
‘Robert doesn’t like beards.’
‘But apart from that, he said he was the spitting image. He had some luggage with him that he was fussing over.’
‘But you said Robert only had a bag when he left.’
‘Then he must have picked some up. They’ve got good eyes, drivers. I’d say the odds are that it really was Mr Carmichael.’
‘Why get off at Dartford? If he’s back, why doesn’t he come to me?’ It was a useless cry because the answer was obvious. He couldn’t.
Amos took both my hands, making the soothing sound he uses on nervous horses. ‘Easy, easy. He’s back, at least. Isn’t that something?’
‘But what has he come back to? It’s not about the prison any more. We were wrong about that. Was anybody with him when your man thinks he saw him?’
‘No. He was on his own, he said.’
‘Can’t we hope Cave’s body isn’t found and put off telling the police for two days at least? If Robert’s back, surely we can find him. He might be trying to find a way to get to me.’
‘Why two days?’
‘Because whatever is going to happen, it will be in two days, the twenty-third of July. Friday. That’s what I heard on the sloop. If we can only find Robert before then, we might still be able to keep him out of it.’
‘Friday.’ Amos considered. ‘There won’t be a lot else happening on Friday. The town’ll be choked up with carriages from Piccadilly to Westminster.’
‘Why?’
‘The Queen’s proroguing Parliament.’ Then, seeing the expression on my face and thinking that I hadn’t understood the technical term, he said, ‘I mean, sending the MPs off on their holidays. But it’s bigger than usual, because it will be in the new House of Lords for the first time. Everybody who can get a ticket will be there, with the ladies in enough diamonds to buy up Threadneedle Street. We’ve got our two dress chariots spoken for, and four of the lads turning footmen for the day.’
‘Whatever they’re planning, they’re probably relying on that for a distraction. The police will be concentrating on what’s going on at Westminster.’
‘So we’ve got to give them a hint, at least. Will you let me talk to Bevan?’
‘Perhaps. Let him know I’ve escaped, but don’t tell him about Cave yet, and keep Robert out of it.’ I’d been badly shaken by the appearance of the poet on our own territory.
Amos nodded. ‘I’ll see you and Tabby back home, then I’ll go and look for him.’
Tabby was deep in conversation with one of the grooms. We collected her and made our way to the gates. We were within a few steps of them when a man came walking in. He wore a dark coat and black hat, but from the upright posture and a measured quality about the way he walked, he might as well have been in uniform. It took a lot to disconcert Amos, but I looked at his face and caught the shock before it froze into neutrality. He stepped forward.
‘Good afternoon, Sergeant. I was just coming to see you.’
Bevan looked as grim as I’d ever seen him. It took him just a second to recognize my face inside the bonnet, then his voice matched his expression. ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Carmichael. At liberty, I see.’ I doubted if he’d intended the pun, and there was no humour in it.
Amos suggested that we should all go and sit down, and led the way to the tack room-cum-office. Bevan stood aside to let me go first, but I knew that was more from wanting to keep an eye on me than politeness. Tabby had melted away as usual. The tack room had two chairs – hard wooden ones. Again, Bevan waited for me to sit down with sarcastic politeness then took the second chair himself. Amos remained standing.
‘So you were coming to see me, Mr Legge. Did you intend to accompany him, Mrs Carmichael? Were you ever kidnapped in the first place? I did wonder.’
‘She was, right enough,’ Amos said. Sergeant Bevan didn’t take his eyes off me.
‘I was drugged and imprisoned in a sloop on the Thames, just off Millbank, for ten days. I managed to escape a week ago.’
‘And it didn’t occur to you to report this interesting event to the police?’
‘I wanted to find out what was happening first. I thought it was connected with an escape attempt from Millbank prison. I did try to take steps to tell the authorities about it, but I now think that wasn’t the case.’
‘Ah, yes, the escape attempt.’ I wondered if, at his level, he knew about the part played by Mr Disraeli. Probably he did. I knew that Bevan had been involved in some delicate political situations in the past. ‘So, nothing to do with it. What about the murder of Miss Felicity Maynard. Would it have had anything to do with that?’
‘So she was murdered?’
‘Yes. That head injury wouldn’t have come from being thrown against Westminster Bridge. I’m asking myself if it’s more than a coincidence that she was part of a household where you were having dinner just before you were taken from us. Or that she was killed at about the time you so luckily managed to escape.’
‘It isn’t a coincidence.’ No point now in trying to hide this part of the story from him. ‘Felicity had a half-brother who called himself Jonah Cave. He worked at the Parliament site as a woodcarver and he was seeing her in secret. He scared her. I’m nearly sure that this Jonah Cave was involved in abducting me, but I still don’t know why.’
‘And did he kill his half-sister?’
‘No. Tabby was following him on the night she died, and he couldn’t have. But she’d probably gone out to look for him when she was killed.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘From somebody closely connected with the Maynard family.’ At some point, I’d probably have to throw Oliver Maynard to him, but not yet.
‘You’re not helping me very much, are you? Tell me, does your husband know that you’ve managed to escape?’
‘My husband is travelling.’
‘Indeed. He doesn’t seem to have travelled very far. Would you be surprised to hear that he was crossing the Strand yesterday afternoon? Are you going to ask me how I know that?’
I said nothing, hardly daring to breathe, but he went on anyway.
‘He gave a note to a crossing sweeper, with a half sovereign to deliver it. I’m sure there are perfectly honest and upright crossing sweepers in London who’d have done exactly that but, for better or worse, that man wasn’t one of them. Instead of running off to deliver the note, he spent the half sovereign getting very drunk indeed – so drunk that he insulted two of our officers on the beat and ended up being arrested. In the normal course of events, they searched his pockets. It was a matter of sheer good luck that I happened to be at the station and recognized the name on the note.’ He took a folded and scuffed-looking square of paper out of his pocket. I put out my hand for it, but he shook his head. ‘Not for you, I’m afraid. It’s addressed to one Amos Legge Esq., at the livery stables in Bayswater Road.’
He held it out and I could see the familiar writing, on cheap paper in pencil. For a moment, Amos didn’t move, then he stepped forward to take it. Bevan shook his head again.
‘It’s police property. Evidence.’
‘It’s addressed to me,’ Amos said.
‘Evidence of what?’ I said.
‘That remains to be seen. For one thing, you seem to have managed to waste quite a lot of police time. It also sounds as if you’ve been concealing facts connected with a murder.’
‘You’ve only just told us it was a murder and I’ve only recently found out the facts,’ I said. But I couldn’t even convince myself, because I was thinking about that other murder.
Amos tried again to persuade Bevan to hand over the note, but he put it back in his pocket.
‘At least tell us what he says,’ I pleaded. It had struck me that Robert thought I was still being held prisoner, or he’d have sent the note to me and not to Amos.
‘Of course, we’re not actually looking for Mr Carmichael,’ Bevan said, ignoring the plea. ‘There’s no indication he’s done anything wrong. Still, I can’t help wondering where he is.’ He paused, waiting for some comment from me.
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I’ve only just found out he’s back in London.’
‘Back. So he’s been away? Do you know where?’
‘No.’ It was the truth, but I could see he didn’t believe me. For a moment, I’d had the impulse to tell him all I knew and have the police hunt for Robert, wherever he was and whatever he was doing, but if we didn’t trust each other, what was the use? Still, one thing had to be said. ‘Something’s going to happen this Friday, two days away. The people who kidnapped me were talking about it.’
‘What?’
‘I don’t know what, only that it must be something big.’
‘In London?’
‘I suppose so. I don’t know.’ I could see from his face that I wasn’t impressing him and I couldn’t be surprised. He turned to Amos.
‘Mr Legge, has Mr Carmichael made any attempt to get in touch with you apart from this note?’
Amos shook his head.
‘If he does, I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know, or preferably suggest that he comes to see me.’
‘You said you’re not looking for him,’ I said.
‘Not officially, but I should like to talk to him. And I’d like to talk to your girl, Tabby. I’ve had a description of a young woman observed around the Maynards’ house who sounds very much like her. But I don’t suppose you’d say anything, would you?’
He was right. I said nothing. He turned to go, raising his hat about a quarter of an inch.
‘It’s my note,’ Amos said to his departing back.
I sensed that Amos was weighing up whether to leap on Bevan and wrestle the note from him. He could easily have done it. I shook my head. No point in getting arrested. We watched as Bevan went out through the gateway.
‘The note would say where he is, or at least how we can get in touch with him,’ Amos said. ‘There’d have been no point otherwise. If we were to follow Bevan …’
‘We’d have to follow half the London police force,’ I said. ‘If there’s an address in that note, he’ll already have sent men there.’
‘And not found him, otherwise why would he be bothering us? We’ll just have to hope that Mr Carmichael tries again.’
‘If he can,’ I said. I was half crazy with the idea that Robert was back in London somewhere and we had no idea how to find him.
Amos said he’d walk back with us to Abel Yard. We got to Adam’s Mews with Tabby trailing behind us in that state of sullen fury that always followed any contact with the police. As Amos and I turned into the yard, I noticed that one of the lads who made some kind of living around the mews had stopped her and was talking urgently. She followed us upstairs to the parlour.
‘A strange woman’s been around here asking about you.’
My heart thumped. ‘What did she look like?’
‘Not young, black dress, hat with a veil. He said her forehead stuck out like this.’ She mimed a bulge.
‘Minerva.’ I couldn’t help shuddering as I said it. ‘What did he tell her?’
‘That he’d never heard of you, of course.’
I thanked the gods for the loyalty of Tabby’s network, but felt terrified. With the poet at the stables and Minerva here, they were closing in. It was a week since I’d escaped from the sloop – something else must have happened. That something else was Robert’s arrival back in London.
‘You’re coming back to the stables with me,’ Amos said.
‘I can’t stay there.’
‘Why not? In any case, if Mr Carmichael manages to get in touch with me again, you’ll be there.’
‘If I’d been here, I could have followed her,’ Tabby said. ‘I will, if she comes back.’
It made sense, as far as anything did. I put a few things together in a bag and walked with Amos back across the park. While he supervised the evening stables, I waited, sitting on a bale of straw in Rancie’s box. When everybody else had gone, he cooked us bacon and eggs very neatly and skilfully on the range in the tack room and gave me his bed upstairs. He’d even found time to put on a fresh sheet and bolster cover. He’d be sleeping in the hayloft – he’d done it before many times, he said. All the time we were listening, for the gate opening, for footsteps in the yard that might be the poet or might be Robert. But there was nothing but the shifting hooves of horses and the rustlings of rats and cats in the straw. I dozed, more or less, but went on listening all night.