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Constant in all things
(Much Ado About Nothing 2.1.166-7)
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EDWARD HAD NOT WALKED more than a dozen paces when, to his surprise, he heard someone call his name.
“Edward Gardiner! Can that possibly be you?”
He spun on his feet, seeking the voice that had hailed him in so familiar a manner. There, walking towards him through the crowds was a short blond man, somewhat rotund, with bright blue eyes and thick spectacles perched on a long nose. The man, about his own age, was well, if simply dressed, and spoke with a slight American accent.
“Benjamin Cole, as I live and breathe!” Edward stepped forward to greet his former schoolmate.
“Edward, what in God’s name are you doing here? I thought you had gone back to Merry Olde some years ago.”
“I did. I returned just this morning.”
“Back in the colonies permanently, then? Or on a pleasure trip, because you missed us so very much?” Benjamin smiled his accustomed serene smile. He had been, Edward recalled, a serious young man, his quiet nature belying his rosy and jocular-seeming countenance. A good student, he and Edward had spent many nights together cramming for exams and arguing over the books they read. His was a very welcome face to see.
“I am here on business, of a sort. Or a rescue mission, if you will. The story is long and tedious, but I am seeking some associates who, we believe, arrived two days prior. I must confess I am quite ill at ease as to their wellbeing.”
“This sounds like a story to be enjoyed over a meal, then. Join us this evening, unless you have other arrangements? My wife will be delighted to meet an old friend. Now wait - you said ‘we.’ Then you don’t travel alone?”
“My companion is Jeremiah Sherrington, a capital man if ever there was one.”
“Then bring him along! Here is my direction,” he found a pencil and a scrap of paper in his satchel and scribbled as he spoke. “Perhaps I might even be able to help you in your search.”
Gardiner thanked his friend, and looking forward to an evening of renewing old friendships, hurried back to the inn to seek out Sherrington and inform his as to the plans.
Sherrington was in his room when Edward returned. He looked sombre. “I have news, Edward, and it is not all good.”
Edward sat heavily in a chair by the window. “Talk, then.”
Sherrington remained very still as he spoke. “I went directly to the government buildings when I left, to speak with the governor and present my situation. We were correct. There was a packet on board The Lucinda for him concerning our missing Harrison Grant. The letter purports to be from the magistrate of that part of Derbyshire, accusing young Grant of being a convicted and escaped murderer. The letter demands that the young man be captured and executed for his crimes.”
“Good God!” Edward exclaimed, shocked to his core. “Can this be so?”
“Sadly, yes. I saw the letter. It is an excellent forgery, and would be quite convincing if one did not know the truth. Percival Grant is a smart man to have perpetrated this ruse so well.”
“What do we do now? Have they taken Harrison Grant? Surely they have not yet carried out this sentence?”
“No. Young Grant, it appears, is missing. He had a reputation for being most punctual and attentive to his duties, but he failed to appear yesterday morning. Coincidentally, that is the day after The Lucinda arrived in port.”
“And you surmise that Matthew and Lynnie found him and convinced him to flee.” Edward’s voice was tight.
“Precisely.”
“Then what,” Edward sighed, “do we do now?” He threw his head back onto the chair and let his breath escape in an audible rush. “How do we find them? And what will become of Harrison Grant?” The futility of his mission seemed crushing.
Sherrington stood and moved to the pile of papers he had strewn over his writing desk. He spoke as he shuffled through the documents.
“I had a long talk with Sir John Wentworth, the governor of the colony. Not knowing the particulars of the situation before our departure, I could not present him with any evidence exonerating young Grant, but my letters of introduction proved sufficient to induce him to sit with me and believe my tale.” Sherrington now handed to Edward, for his examination, a letter of credentials autographed by none less than His Majesty, King George III. Edward handed it back, his mouth agape in astonishment.
“I had no idea...” he began, but Sherrington resumed his tale.
“Once convinced of the legitimacy of my mission, Sir John had no difficulty accepting my story and offering all and any assistance. I assured him that Grant was no criminal and that his letter was spurious, since George Darcy is the current magistrate of the district in question, and not the person whose name appears on the letter. However,” he sighed, “matters are still concerning. Arthur Pennfold, the man under whose aegis young Grant was doing his apprenticeship, is not the most principled of men. He was instructed—presumably by the uncle, Percival—to keep all correspondence to and from Harrison Grant in order to isolate him from his family and prevent alarming news from reaching him. When Pennfold heard of the letter about Grant’s supposed crimes, he sent out an immediate message to the citadel requesting that the patrols be on the lookout for this supposedly dangerous criminal, with a detailed description of the young man. Wentworth has sent out a corrective message, but there is no certainty that it will be received by all members of the patrol, or that it will be believed in time.” Sherrington sighed.
“Lord help us then,” Edward lamented.
“All is not lost, son,” Sherrington tried to assure his friend. “Grant has not been found, and therefore is surely still alive and well. We need only find him. If we knew somebody in the town with ideas of where to begin our search, we might be underway. Have you any connections here still?”
Edward looked up, the faint sparks of hope flickering across his features. “Yes,” he breathed slowly, “yes I do.” Then, more deliberately, “In fact, Mr. Sherrington, I came across an old fellow from King’s on my walk this morning, and we have been invited to dine with him. Not knowing the entire tale, he offered what assistance he could. He might, perhaps, be of more use than he believes. Will you join me at his house tonight?”
Sherrington gratefully accepted the invitation, and Edward quickly penned a note to be sent at once to the Cole residence with this information. Having exhausted all official lines of inquiry for the moment, Sherrington suggested a rest before dressing to dine that evening. It was unlikely that the Grants would be found on the streets of Halifax, knowing that danger awaited them.
It was some hours later that Edward and Jeremiah Sherrington stood on the doorstep of a mid-sized house on a large lot, about two miles outside of town. They had hired horses for the duration of their sojourn and had seen the beasts stabled before knocking at the main door. Benjamin Cole himself answered and smiled warmly at his friend as introductions were made.
Sherrington, to no surprise on Edward’s part, adapted instantly to the much less formal manners of the colonies. He seemed completely at ease in this middle-class establishment in the near country, where only a single housemaid served to aid the mistress. Edward was curious to meet Benjamin’s wife, whom his friend had met and married after Edward’s return to England.
Amanda Cole was a fairly pretty young woman who might grow plain as she aged and lost the bloom of youth. She was shorter than her husband, and kept her fine brown hair tied in loose knot at the nape of her beck. Her manners, whilst not smart, were pleasing, and her conversation was intelligent and interesting, as Edward would have expected from his friend’s choice of bride.
As the house and its residents were simple but pleasing, so was the food. There were no fancy French ragouts or spices from India, but the roasted fowl and vegetables were tasty and sat comfortably in the belly. Edward and Benjamin spent much of the meal exchanging news of themselves since their last encounter nearly three years previous, and it was only after the meal had ended, when they sat with cups of tea and plates of berry pies before them, that the Englishmen recounted to their hosts the purpose of their journey.
The Coles sat back, wide eyed, at the bizarre tale. At length, Amanda (for so she had invited them to call her) spoke. “And they are gone? Disappeared?” Unlike her husband, she had been born in Nova Scotia, although to loyalist parents. Her speech reflected only the lilts of the English colonies.
“Yes, so it would seem,” Edward answered her. “We have only today arrived and have yet to make more serious inquiries, but Harrison Grant has not been at work, not at his residence, since The Lucinda docked, and no one has been able to say whether they have seen the likes of Matthew or Miss Grant.”
“How unusual!” Benjamin looked into the fire, needed still although it was May and, presumably, spring. “Does the young man know the severity of the charges against him? Does he know his danger?”
“I suspect not,” came Edward’s response, “but his sister knows the duplicity of their uncle, and I am certain both she and Harrison realize that he means them no good. We need to find them and bring them home. Harrison is under the king’s protection now, but none know it.”
Benjamin seemed lost in thought, a ridge appearing between his brows as he sat with his round chin in his hands. After a minute he looked up and asked, “For how long has this fellow been here, in Halifax?”
It was Sherrington who replied. “My sources inform me he arrived last July, after spending some time in the Newfoundland colony. He has been here through the winter.”
“And so he knows the town fairly well, but not extensively, would you say?”
“That sounds reasonable.”
Benjamin hemmed and hawed for a few moments more, then asked again, “and he worked in the records department at the government buildings? Where they keep records of new houses and settlements?”
“So I believe, yes.”
“That means,” continued Benjamin, “that he might have discovered places to hide. Buildings which are newly constructed but not yet inhabited, or conversely, older structures which have been abandoned.”
“What of his friends?”
Sherrington answered, “From what I learned, he had not yet formed any deep friendships, but he did seem to be on very good terms with another young man in the department, someone named Alastair McFarland.”
Amanda’s eyes shot up at this news. “McFarland?”
Sherrington narrowed his eyes. “Yes, I believe that was the name. What can you tell us?”
“The McFarland family are fine people, never you worry. It is their home that is of possible interest. Their family arrived when mine did, fleeing from the rebels in Massachusetts. Their father joined the militia here. I have the story from Alastair and his sister Fiona, who were my close friends as children. They told tales of their barn, which had a secret room hidden beneath the floor, where they stored ammunition and supplies. I wonder...”
Edward was paying very close attention now. “How far away would you say this barn is, Amanda?”
She thought for a moment, then said, “I believe some ten miles off from here, up the coast a bit from the town, rather than inland as we are here. It is too late to travel now, but in the morning, I will join you if you wish, and ask Mrs. McFarland if we might inspect her barn.”
This was deemed to be a very acceptable plan, and it was with a somewhat lighter heart that Edward went to bed that night. Sleep did not come easily, though. After nearly five weeks at sea, this was his first night back on solid land, and he felt the stillness as keenly as he had originally felt the rocking of the ship. The day had been full of surprises, from the proposition by the barmaid at the pub, to the fortuitous encounter with Benjamin, and the announcement by Amanda Cole that she might have a place to search. Edward’s mind replayed these events one after another, musing and teasing at them, all the while dreading what they might or might not find in the barn. Would the Grants be there? Would they be safe? How would they get Harrison home safely? What about Lynnie and Matt? Or worse, what would he do if they were not, indeed, there? Where would he look next? Would they find Harrison and his sister before the patrols did? A pardon was scant protection when an order had gone out to seek and execute. Unable to settle, at last Edward rose, found a bottle of sherry secreted in one of his chests, and consumed a good portion of it before its soporific effects finally dragged him into unconsciousness.
The sun was much too bright the following morning when Edward started awake to the sound of his curtains being pulled open. Sherrington stood there, outlined against the bright white sky behind him, saying something about rising. The syllables floated through his head for a moment before coalescing into comprehensible sounds, and with them, the realization that today they were to visit the McFarlands.
“Surely you did not have a late night, Edward? I distinctly recall you arriving here with me at a very reasonable hour.” Sherrington peered around the room, his eyes eventually settling onto the bottle of sherry. “Oh, Edward...”
“Spare me the chastisements, Sherrington.” Edward tried to sit up and groaned at the pain this action occasioned. “It is not my habit, but my mind was too addled to sleep. But oh, how I regret it now.” He pulled himself out of the bed and struggled to the ewer and basin in the corner, where he submerged his face into the chilly liquid. “If you will leave me for a few minutes, I will prepare myself to be seen in public.” He shook his head vigorously, hoping to clear it, then groaned again. “And for the love of God, sir, would you please be so kind as to find me a cup of tea or coffee?”
Several minutes later Edward emerged, washed and dressed, if not entirely happy with himself, and he gingerly approached his breakfast, spending more time on the hot coffee before him than on the plate of sliced ham. They were to return to the Coles’ house, from where they would take the Coles’ carriage to the McFarlands. Benjamin would join them, pending approval from his superiors at the law office at which he worked. Edward still dreaded what they might find, and made himself concentrate on his unsettled stomach rather than on his unsettled mind.
Too soon, and not soon enough, they were standing again outside the doors to Benjamin and Amanda’s home, and a few minutes after that, they were in the carriage, being pulled by a team of strong horses towards their next destination.