Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Y et again, Patience found herself at point non plus . As usual, once Ashley Stuart left her sphere, her spirits were downcast. Even though he made her furious at times, he was exciting.

Once the rest of the guests were done breakfasting, there would be something to do. But for now, since no one else was down yet, she took Xander and wandered to the barn to see if Joy had found Freddy. "Come on, Xander. If anything will bring Freddy out, it's you."

He wagged his tail, delighted that she was speaking to him. They trudged through the still somewhat sodden earth until they reached the barn.

They were greeted by a cacophony of animal sounds, some of which were still not used to the puppy. Looking from stall to stall, she finally found Joy sitting, bent over an animal.

"Did you find Freddy?"

"Patience! Look!"

Xander was already trying to worm his way in, but Patience held him back. She looked over Joy's shoulder and gasped. "I guess that explains why he was looking fat."

Freddy was lying there nursing six kittens.

"Are they not the most precious things you've ever seen?"

"They are adorable," Patience agreed, though at the moment, they looked like drowned rats. "I had best keep Xander out of here so we don't disturb her."

"Would you mind telling Mr. Cunningham? I think he should know. And of course, tell Grace and Vivienne."

Patience smiled to herself. "I will go tell them at once."

Joy returned to adoring the cat and kittens, and Patience took Xander out of the barn and back to the house. "I do not think Joy is going to be your mistress after all, Xander, which suits me just fine."

By the time they reached the house, the other guests were in the breakfast room.

Lord Montford and Mr. Cunningham stood at Patience's entrance. She waved them back into their seats and filled a plate. Her cup of coffee was long gone.

"I have news," she said once she sat at the table.

"Pray tell!" Mr. Cunningham said.

"It seems our little Freddy Tiger is more of a Frederica."

He frowned, trying to decipher her meaning.

Grace understood and gasped. Apparently none of them had ever thought to check or perhaps even knew how.

"Indeed. Frederica has birthed six kittens this morning. Joy is in the barn with them now."

"Well, I'll be…" Mr. Cunningham seemed to think better of what he was about to say. He wiped his mouth and tossed his napkin on the table. "If you'll excuse me?" He was already running out of the door before anyone could answer.

They all laughed at his exuberance.

"You'd think his heir was born," Montford scoffed.

"I think it's very sweet," Grace said.

"Did you get a good look at them?" Vivienne asked. "Are they all orange tabby like Freddy?"

"Right now, they look more like wet rats than anything, but I did not get a good look. I was trying to keep Xander back so as not to disturb Freddy."

"She certainly has not taken to him, but I suppose having kittens explains it," Grace reflected.

"Indeed," Vivienne agreed.

"We will go take a peek when we finish here," Grace suggested.

"Peek at what?" Major Stuart asked as he strolled into the room, looking dapper in buckskin riding breeches and a dark blue coat.

"Freddy Tiger had kittens this morning," Patience answered.

He raised his brows. "I thought Freddy was male?"

"We all did, though I cannot say I would know the difference," Grace remarked with a blush.

Major Stuart grabbed a roll and sat down next to Patience. He was entirely too close. His leg touched hers beneath the table. She scooted over to the edge of her seat, then he put his arm on the back of her chair. He was doing it on purpose! She turned to glare at him. He smiled roguishly and her heart almost stopped.

"May I help you with something?" She remembered to be incredulous, but his deep blue eyes were watching her knowingly as if he knew exactly what he was doing to her insides.

"As a matter of fact, you can."

"I can?" She narrowed her gaze. He was trying to disconcert her.

"Indeed. Is that not what you wanted?"

She looked around at the others finishing breakfast and preparing to go visit the kittens.

"Is this some sort of trick?"

He smiled again, so that the edges of his eyes crinkled in a most attractive fashion.

Grace turned back as the others left the breakfast room. "Are you coming?"

"Perhaps a little later when Xander is napping."

Grace's eyes looked questioningly between her and Major Stuart, but then she nodded and left the room. Leaving her alone with Stuart's arm still draped over the back of her chair.

Nervously, she lifted her coffee cup to take a sip, but found it was empty.

"What may I do to help?"

"I'd like to question the servants, and it will go much faster if you help."

He truly thought for her to assist him? What was the catch?

"We are certain someone was getting messages to our prisoner and we need to see if one of the servants is helping."

Patience frowned. "Most of them have been with your family for years, if not generations."

"I know, but we must be thorough. It could have begun as something innocent, such as being asked to leave a note somewhere."

"I suppose you're right. What am I supposed to ask the servants though?"

"I thought we could begin with the upper servants and see if there are those that leave the estate often and might be in the village where they would be interacting with others. Or any sort of pattern that might be an opportunity for information to be brought onto Taywards lands. Any irregularity might mean something, no matter how small."

"Yes, I see." She began to feel the rush of excitement at the possibilities. She did not try to hide her enthusiasm and smiled back at him. "When do we begin?"

"Now, if you are ready. I thought to call them into the study one by one. We can interview Armstrong and Mrs. Armstrong together so you can see how it goes, then we can divide up and talk to the rest of the staff."

Patience was relieved to see that she'd be able to watch him first. She had never interrogated anyone before. Well, besides her sisters.

He stood and pulled out her chair for her. "Shall we?"

Patience left the breakfast room, trying not to shake her head at the change in him as he spoke to Armstrong. Why was he suddenly being nice and including her?

The butler followed them into the room, and Major Stuart closed the door behind him, disconcerting Armstrong. "Please, take a seat."

The upper servant did, sitting on the edge of the chair, his back raMr.od straight.

"Armstrong, if you would be so good. We just have a few simple questions. As you know, someone was trespassing on my brother's land, and we have that person restrained in the stables."

"Yes, sir."

Of course the butler knew what was going on. He would know everything. It was his business to know.

"We are trying to ascertain if any of the staff could have unwittingly helped pass information to the man."

Armstrong's posture stiffened, and his face showed offence.

"I know, Armstrong. We do not wish to think ill of any of our retainers, but it could be something very simple."

Patience watched with deepening respect for Major Stuart. Questioning someone was full of nuances and he had set the butler at ease.

"Is there anyone at all that goes into the village often—spends a good deal of time at the tavern, perhaps?"

"Most of the stable and farm hands go to the tavern on their evenings off." He frowned. "I imagine I could procure a list for you of those that go, though Chauncy would know their movements more precisely."

"That would be most helpful. What about anyone that might have connections in the village and go there more often?"

"Well, there is James, who goes every evening to help take care of his grandmother. But I cannot imagine him passing any information on, even unwittingly. He's a very sharp lad."

Major Stuart nodded encouragingly. "What about anyone that has connections with Sir Horace's household?"

Now that was a question Patience most definitely would not have thought to ask.

She saw the butler hesitate for a fraction of a second before answering. "My nephew, Samuel, is walking out with one of the maids, Molly. I know it should be frowned upon, but thus far it has seemed harmless. They often meet at the turnstile near the bridle path at the western gate."

Major Stuart nodded. "I'm sure it is harmless as you say. Anyone else?"

"Not that I can think of, sir. But perhaps Mrs. Armstrong or Chauncy can tell you more."

"You've been most helpful, Armstrong."

"May I ask, sir, what do you think is happening?"

"I am not sure, Armstrong. I think someone was bringing notes to our guest in the clearing."

"I cannot think anyone besides the grooms would be able to do that without causing suspicion, sir. They are the ones who take the horses out all over the estate. Anyone else doing that would cause notice. They also go into the village most frequently."

"I suspect you are correct, Armstrong. Thank you for your frankness."

"I wish for this dastardly business to be resolved as quickly as possible, sir. If I think of anything else, I will let you know at once."

"If you could send Mrs. Armstrong into us next, please?"

"Of course, sir." The butler stood and bowed before retreating.

"I think you may be on to something," Patience remarked. "Other than the river, the easiest way to deliver a message would be through Sir Horace's land. It is not surrounded by walls as Taywards is."

"I believe Westwood has set someone to watch there, but I will double-check."

They split up and interviewed the rest of the servants—he, the men, and her, the women, but unfortunately, she was unable to uncover any clues that would lead anywhere.

Ashley found that he did not mind Patience helping him. She had not interfered with his questioning and even had some helpful insights.

However, he had exhaustively questioned every one of the servants and found nothing more. There had to be some way the information was getting to Devil. His instinct told him it was so, and he learned over the years to always trust it. But how?

He sat in his brother's study, looking out the window, pondering just that when Westwood himself walked in.

"You look done in, Brother," Ashley said as he turned to see who had entered.

Westwood gripped his back and rolled his neck. "Sitting in a tree for hours is not as easy as it used to be."

Ashley chuckled. "That is the least favourite part of surveillance," he agreed. "Any luck?"

"None. It's almost as if they know we are on to them."

"The only way that could be is if someone is passing information. But Miss Whitford and I have spent the morning questioning the servants and there's very little to go on."

"What little is there?" Westwood asked as he slumped in one of the comfortable armchairs.

"I cannot say that it's much of anything, only that one of Sir Horace's maids is walking out with one of your grooms—Samuel. We have already deduced that the bridle path between the two estates is probably the easiest access to Taywards."

Westwood nodded and frowned. "That is the groom that I've had watching that entrance."

"It may be nothing more than innocent meetings, but we need to find out."

His brother inclined his head. "I will change the watch up or set someone to watch him."

Faith waddled in the room, and they both rose to their feet.

Ashley could not miss the look of concern on his brother's face. Faith's time was coming and it was understandably worrisome.

"I saw you come in. Did you learn anything?" she asked.

"Nothing except a better acquaintance with our neighbourhood. There is a surprising amount of traffic at the docks, with a great deal of building going on. How are you feeling?"

"As a whale about to burst."

Ashley struggled not to smile.

"And now, Lady Fagge is insistent we and our guests attend her dinner party." She waved a letter about.

"Can she not see you are in no shape to attend social functions?" Westwood's voice was laced with annoyance.

"I am perfectly capable of attending social functions. I simply hate being pressured into it because she has daughters she cannot rid herself of."

Ashley had a thought, though a reluctant one. "Perhaps we should attend. More insight into our current situation?" he suggested.

Westwood scowled. "This is the best excuse I've had to avoid our neighbours in years and now you say I must? I know, you and your illustrious troop may go. It is the bachelors she wants, after all."

"That is hardly a neighbourly sentiment," Ashley teased.

"No, indeed," he retorted with a heavy sigh. "When is the dinner?"

"Tonight," Faith replied.

"I doubt Renforth will wish to send everyone. We need to remain vigilant in our watch."

"He just relieved me at the clearing. Why do you not find out who he wishes to send and then I will send a reply to Lady Fagge."

"I beg your pardon, my lord," the butler said from the doorway.

"What is it, Armstrong?"

"A missive has just come for Major Manners. His messenger will be in the kitchens resting should you wish to reply."

Ashley stood and walked over to Armstrong. "I will take it. There is only one person who would be sending something to him here." He broke the seal and opened it. "As I suspected, it's from Lord Upton."

There is extremely limited access to the knowledge of these arms shipments. I've taken the liberty of listing the committee members' names for you. Even those who are shipping the munitions are unaware that they are doing so. This particular shipment that went missing was en route to India. As you would suspect, it was on board one of the East India ships.

There was no known attack. In fact, it was sometime before the arms were discovered to be missing. All further shipments have been halted until this investigation uncovers whether or not this is a continued threat.

"No one would have thought to check again once the goods were loaded," Westwood remarked.

"But were the arms loaded? Or something else in their place?" Ashley countered.

"An excellent question to investigate."

"Someone knew there would be arms on that ship and likely substituted something in their place."

"And what's the connection to the Greenwich docks and Taywards? Or is there one?"

"It could simply be an excellent place from which to watch."

"But we found nothing on an exhaustive search."

"There has to be a link. We are just missing it."

"I think the key may be discovering who had the knowledge and who is passing messages to Devil. What names are on the list?"

"Lord Marsh, Henry Cavender, and Sir Percival Layton, in addition to Lord Upton," Ashley read.

"None of which he can think of any reason they would have to betray the information. All of them understand the necessity of secrecy with such shipments." Westwood frowned. "Then one of them must have unwittingly revealed the information."

"So we need to investigate connections. Manners is the best man for that. I will speak to Renforth about it. But I've heard of Layton. He has a younger son with quite a reputation as a gamester," Ashley said. "Perhaps he was desperate for funds."

Westwood frowned. "Still, I would not think Layton would leave that sort of information lying around."

"Some parents are blind to their children's faults. Certainly, it's a theory that bears looking into." Ashley stood. "I must report to the colonel."

"Do not forget to mention the dinner," Westwood called after him as he left the room.

Ashley shook his head. He had every intention of fobbing that off on one of his friends. He made his way towards the clearing, deciding to walk this time. He found Renforth sitting in the lookout tree with the spyglass to his eye.

"Report."

Ashley read the missive from Lord Upton, then conveyed his and Westwood's thoughts.

"I know Layton well, he served in the regiment with me when we were both green lieutenants. But his son is a wastrel. Still, it's hard for me to fathom him leaving any information around that his son might compromise." He pursed his lips. "I have a connection that could look into this for me. I cannot spare to send any of you back at this juncture. We need to see if the others have discovered anything by following them. Go and see if they've got anything to report."

"Very good, sir. Also, there is a dinner at Sir Horace's. I think it might be worthwhile for us to see if there are any other local connections that we might've missed, as we suspect someone of high standing is involved."

Renforth angled his head. "I suppose you could be spared, but I cannot afford to lose eyes on the rest of the gang."

Ashley wanted to protest, but he'd had the very same thought himself. He'd hoped that Renforth would not want to spare him either. The thought of that harpy, Lady Fagge, made his skin crawl, and that was without consideration of her insipid daughters. Ashley groaned, then smiled. If he had to suffer through it, then so did Patience.