Chapter 20
On seeing Benedict limping towards them, Arabella immediately jumped down from the carriage. Heedless of everyone else, she lifted her skirts and ran towards him. ‘Are you hurt?’ she gasped, completely ignoring her father and brother-in-law, who glanced at each other knowingly.
Ben shook his head. ‘Only my pride,’ he answered ruefully. ‘And you?’ He searched her face, as much as he could see, his weariness falling away at the sight of her. Hesitantly, she lifted her hand and touched the side of his jaw, then glanced over his shoulder towards Castel-a-Mare.
‘It’s over for now,’ Benedict murmured, taking her hand and drawing her eyes back to him. They stared at one another, everything else forgotten. Indeed, Arabella might even have tiptoed up to kiss him had an exasperated voice not interrupted.
‘Unless you want the Chief Inspector to actually fall at your feet, Bella, I suggest you step aside so he can get to the carriage.’ At her father’s remark, Arabella hurriedly complied, though Ben did not attempt to release her fingers, and on the slow walk towards the carriage, a warm tingling sensation slowly made its way from her hand as his thumb began gently stroking her palm…
Since Charlotte already had more than enough assistance from her four remaining nieces in Cliff House, the rest of the party continued on to Simla.
Though the hour was late, no one excused themselves, and it took a good hour for the events of the last twenty four hours to be shared and dissected.
When Ben heard about the danger Arabella had been in, he didn’t know whether to berate her, Billy or Alex, or congratulate all three. Not to mention Aggie, who was currently snoring next to the fire.
‘I don’ mind tellin’ yer Chief Inspector, it wos the worst moment o’ me life when that mudsill ‘ad ‘old o’ Miss Bella.’ Billy shook his head, ‘Bloody good job I still ‘ad that pebble from Goodrington beach in me pocket – though in fairness I reckon I’d be the dog’s baubles at Rugby.
’ The boy flashed his customary grin, and no one said a word about his language or the tears in his eyes.
After Mrs Brown brought in some cold meats, Benedict finally repeated his plan for dealing with the three dead bodies still in Castel-a-Mare and where he thought they should proceed from here.
‘While I’m certain Margaret Finch was behind the jewellery thefts, she had to have had help.
We can tell the public that the robberies have been solved, but I think we all know there was more to them than simple robberies.
I believe Evelina Lovelace and our four merry widows are up to their genteel necks in it…
’ Ben hesitated, then added, ‘I cannot deny that Sir Drayton’s involvement caught me completely off guard, though perhaps in retrospect it shouldn’t have. ’
He shook his head, relieving his earlier disbelief.
‘But if someone of Drayton’s standing is caught up in this, how many more are there and how high does the rot go?
We can’t risk exposing him, so, despite the very thought of it sticking in my throat, we make him a hero as far as the public are concerned. ’
‘And Jacob White?’ Henry insisted.
‘We’re on borrowed time,’ Benedict answered tightly.
‘This auction is scheduled for the end of June. That gives us a little over two months to to find the missing children from both Winner Street and Pembroke.’ He gave a ragged sigh, running anxious fingers through his hair before continuing, ‘We have to face up to the fact that the children we know about are likely the tip of the iceberg. If we’re to put a stop to these bastards, we have to find out who they are.
With Drayton and Thorpe dead, Jacob White is where we start.
‘Did we do the right thing letting Muriel Pemberton go?’ Arabella fretted.
Ben nodded his head emphatically. ‘She may simply disappear into thin air, but somehow I don’t think so. She’s a survivor and she knows that right now, helping us is her best chance of avoiding the fate of her siblings. We can only hope that when she surfaces again, she’ll have something for us.’
‘She claimed to have taken the Pembroke files,’ Alex suddenly remembered. ‘We should have pushed her to give them to us.’
‘She doesn’t know that Thorpe and Drayton are dead, and that Jacob has suffered a setback,’ Rhys countered, ‘so she’ll be looking to get out of Torbay as quickly as possible.
It’s unlikely she’ll be carrying heavy files with her.
My guess is she’ll leave them wherever she’s stashed them, hoping to return for them later. ’
‘If we manage to retrace her movements after Margaret Finch’s death, we might yet find them,’ Henry suggested.
Benedict nodded slowly. ‘There’s one other thing I almost missed about Jacob. When he was up in the bows, John Thorpe addressed him as my lord.’
There was a short silence.
‘That doesn’t necessarily mean he has an actual title,’ Henry declared.
‘But what if he does?…’ Ben left the sentence hanging. They all knew what was at stake. Drayton had a title, and he answered to Jacob White.
But who was Jacob White, really? And who did he answer to?
‘For me, this won’t be over until every single one of these predators hang,’ Benedict went on, his voice grim.
‘But before we go any further, you must know that if you continue down this rabbit hole with me, we’ll be on our own.
’ He paused and took a deep breath. ‘At the moment, aside from Muriel Pemberton, your involvement is not common knowledge. You could simply walk away, and no one would be any the wiser - I wouldn’t blame any of you if you decide that enough is enough… ’
He stopped again, suddenly overcome by the enormity of the task they were still facing.
‘That was a very pretty speech, Chief Inspector,’ Rhys said drily, ‘but if you think any member of this family is going to walk away, you’re sadly mistaken.
Perhaps you are not yet completely familiar with a particularly vexing Shackleford trait – but believe me, it will become the bane of your life. It’s called stubbornness.’
‘I can’t argue wi’ that, milord,’ Billy piped up before anyone could protest. ‘Wot they’d do if I weren’t ‘ere keepin’ ‘em in line is anybody’s guess.
‘I’ seen ev’ryone of ‘em gettin’ up to shenanigans that’d make a stuffed bird laugh - all ‘cos they ain’t good at quittin’.
It’s a bloody full-time job jus’ keepin’ an eye on ‘em all.’ He shook his head before adding sadly, ‘Ter be honest, I reckon most people think they’re off their bloody chump… ’
Arabella lay wide awake in the darkness, her mind going over and over the events of the day. She was exhausted, but her head refused to succumb to sleep and kept reliving the choking terror she’d felt in Jackson’s hands.
And underneath that were the tumultuous feelings she’d had for Benedict Hartley since the moment she first saw him.
She knew exactly when those feelings had crystallised into love.
It was the sight of him limping towards her after hearing two gunshots and fearing the very worst. But would there ever be a time when she was free to admit it – to tell him?
Would he want to hear it? Oh, she knew he cared for her, found her attractive even. But love?
And what if he didn’t? Could she continue working alongside him as they sought to bring down Jacob White and his cronies?
She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat.
The truth was, she had no choice. She could no more abandon those children than the rest of her family.
She simply had to take a leaf out of her Aunt Charlotte’s book and get a bit of pluck to her backbone.
Fighting back tears, she sat up in bed, taking deep, shuddering breaths, trying to stem the tide.
Once she started, Bella knew she wouldn’t be able to stop.
After a few minutes, she swung her legs out of bed.
Perhaps a snifter of brandy might help her sleep.
Just a tot would likely see her in the arms of Morpheus, and she was certain Rhys wouldn’t object.
Determinedly, she pulled on her robe and picked up the candle from her bedside table. There was still enough wax left to get her downstairs and back.
Seconds later she was tiptoeing silently down the stairs. Though the candle lit the stairwell sufficiently, the large hall downstairs remained largely in shadow while fanciful shapes danced on the walls from the flame in her hand.
By the time she got to the bottom, Arabella was regretting her impulse.
This wasn’t Cliff House and not nearly as familiar to her.
As she negotiated the last step, she stood indecisively.
Was there a brandy decanter on the drawing-room sideboard, or did Mrs Brown bring it on a tray?
There was only one way to find out. Holding her candle high, she walked carefully in that direction.
As she passed the library, however, she suddenly stopped.
She knew for a fact that her brother-in-law had a bottle in there.
She’d sat with her twin on several occasions, cosily ensconced in front of the fire, reading.
On one particular occasion, they’d come in soaking wet, and Alex had suggested a small brandy to warm them up.
Bella remembered she’d taken it from a small table next to the fireplace.
Making her mind up, she took hold of the doorknob and twisted, pushing it open and quickly stepping through the doorway, anxious to get out of the drafty entrance hall.
Unfortunately, she didn’t notice the light until she’d closed the door behind her and already started towards the fireplace.
Unlike the hallway, the library was still warm, and the embers still glowing in the fire grate, together with the flickering light from the candle placed on the mantelpiece, created a small, cosy oasis.
She registered all this in the split second it took for the man sitting in the wingback chair to turn to look at her in surprise.
It was Benedict.