7. A Restless Night
CHAPTER 7
A Restless Night
T he Red Lion was crowded with people that Sunday night, awaiting the morning coaches to London. Shaun sat in a corner enjoying a pork pie and some ale, content with his decision to remain at least one more day in this pleasant town. A pair of bright hazel eyes teased the edge of his common sense. He’d been out of women’s company for so long, he hadn’t a clue how to proceed. And did he want to? It would not be fair to lead a lass on, but he found Miss Louise such excellent company. He was used to moving from place to place with no attachments, but something niggled at his conscience, like his gut was telling him to stay in town for a while.
His instincts had served him well in life so far, he’d be foolish to ignore them now.
Keeping himself inconspicuous, he picked up the conversation further down the table as he slowly sipped his beer. Letting a little slip from the side of his mouth so that those nearby might think this tankard was his seventh instead of his second.
They were saying something about wondering where to sleep this night.
It was already an hour into the darkness, Shaun thought, the men best have some kind of plan.
“Shame the one who done it din’ set us a fire to warm ourselves by first,” one mumbled.
The others laughed and said, “Aye, that’s our lot.”
At the mention of a fire, Shaun tilted his head to angle his ear more closely, hoping they wouldn’t notice.
Somebody at another table called out, “Were you the men sleeping in the old cottage t’other night?”
“Aye,” they answered.
“Damn shame, and don’t judge the town by one bad act. We’re not known for fires in these parts,” the man at the other table said.
Shaun was definitely listening hard now.
“Back from France, defending His Majesty, and this is our thanks,” one of them said.
Peering over his tankard, Shaun looked at the poor men who were so down on their luck. Back from France could only mean they’d been fighting on the continent, and from their broad accents they were from the North. They were wearing tinkers and ragmen’s clothes, but he could imagine they would have made an impressive sight in uniform.
He decided it would be safe to engage them in conversation. “Wassis ‘bout a fire?”
“We were staying in a ruined empty cottage, sleeping out, saving our coin for the journey home,” one began.
Another chimed in, “We gets lucky sometimes and we picks up work along the way, but we’re used to sleeping rough so we don’t mind barns or old buildings and the like.”
The first man finished the story. “Then some blighter set fire to it and there’s no coach north till the morrow.”
“Have my room,” Shaun said. These men must have served honourably and needed a proper roof over their heads tonight. One that would not catch fire - or if it did, there would be dozens of witnesses. “I don’ need it,” he hoped he slurred his words just enough to sound pleasantly drunk, but not out of his mind. He grabbed the key from his pocket and handed it over. “Room 9, help yourselves.”
“Where will you go?” one of them asked.
“Nah, I’m going for a walk,” he said, pushing himself away from the table and staggering toward the front door.
“Do you want the rest of your pie?” another asked hopefully.
He waved his hand, then veered toward the bar and caught Mr Haye’s attention. He handed over a couple of shillings and said, “Give those men a hearty meal, if you please. They’ve seen service.”
“Right you are then,” Mr Haye said, giving him back half the money. “We have a returned soldier special deal just this very night,” he added with a wink.
Outside, Shaun turned his coat collar up against the cold and breathed plumes of steam. The air was still and he saw the familiar constellations twinkling in the sky. No cloud cover explained the icy temperature. He shuffled his feet to keep warm and found himself looking up and down the high street. What he was hoping to see was anyone’s guess.
Fires made him nervous. Fires in the army were dangerous, and they were often used to destroy evidence. “So sorry, we don’t have the ledgers any more, a lamp broke and burned the office…” was a lie he’d heard over and over.
Unless the soldiers had lit a fire to keep warm and hadn’t put it out? Surely they’d know better. Far more likely to be deliberately lit, especially if people were becoming frustrated with the number of wandering soldiers in a district.
He was a wandering soldier himself, come to think of it. Perhaps that’s why he’d taken the men at their word so quickly.
Looking the other way, down towards Baxter’s Fine Books, he caught movement. A dog? No, far larger. A tall, thin man.
His heart leapt into his throat at the thought of somebody loitering about the front of Miss Louise’s shop.
“What are you about?” he called out.
The shadow stood stock still, to the point where Shaun wondered if he was imagining things.
Then the shadow dropped something, spun around and tore off like a startled hare.
Instincts kicked in; nobody ran if they weren’t up to something. Shaun gave chase. It was a man, slim and gangly. He already had a head start and ran as fast as a bolt of lightning.
Despite mainly taking care of numbers in the army, Shaun had kept himself fit, on the off chance he’d need to flee if people knew he was on to them, or occasionally to chase down fools who tried to run. It never did any good. The army’s reach was extremely long.
Shaun barrelled on, determined to catch his quarry, but the man was too fast and obviously knew the town well. He ducked in and out of alleyways, and eventually Shaun lost him in the unfamiliar streets.
Frustrated, he turned and retraced his steps, his breath making thick clouds as he puffed hard from the exertion. He would need to maintain his training in the days to come, because he would definitely catch the next miscreant who crossed his path.
When he reached the darkened front of Baxter’s, he found the object the man had dropped.
It was a tinder box. And the only thing a tinder box was good for was starting a fire.
He opened it to find it fully stocked with all the necessary items to make a blaze. The flint and char cloth looked well used, as did many of the match sticks. It had clearly been used often. Was this the same one that had set the soldiers’ refuge alight the other night? Highly possible, but there was no way to know for sure.
His blood turned to ice when he noticed the bookshop’s fire insurance shingle had been unscrewed and lay face down on the ground.
He traced his hands over where the shingle should have been and felt the holes where the screws should be, but as much as he searched in the dark, he could not find the screws themselves. Without the shingle, it was very possible a fire brigade would not come.
Dear heavens, it wasn’t his imagination, he really had interrupted an arson attack! There were no lights shining through the upstairs window. Miss Louise and her family must be asleep upstairs, unaware it could have been their last night on earth.
If only they’d had a dog instead of two cats. A barking dog could have awoken them.
Damn and blast, if only he’d caught that ne’er do well.
All the same, he had the man’s tinder box, so unless the fire starter had more - which could very well be the case - he at least would not be setting any fires in the High Street this particular night.
And certainly not to Baxter’s Fine Books, not if Shaun had to stand guard in the street until the sun came up.
Which was exactly what he planned to do.
His nerves in a jangle, he pulled his coat tightly around him and grabbed his gloves from the inside pocket. Standing still would not do, so he paced back and forth from the corner of the Red Lion and back. Looking above the Red Lion’s doorway, he saw a fire brigade shingle firmly affixed, which gave him some comfort. Of course, there were far too many people coming and going at this place, they would have noticed someone loitering about, trying to remove the shingle.
He walked down the street, to the building on the other side of the bookshop. It was so dark he couldn’t make out much, and he thought about striking a light from the tinder box. But if someone left or arrived at the Red Lion as he did so, they might think he was an arsonist.
He’d wait until the morning.
When he paced back to the Red Lion, he checked in with Mr Haye and was satisfied the soldiers had enjoyed a good meal and gone up to sleep in his room. He ordered another pork pie, to keep him alert and fed during the night. He wrapped it in a handkerchief for later.
Using the light from the taproom window, he examined the tinder box for any initials or signs of an owner, but found nothing. The silver box was beaten and scuffed in many places.
For the rest of the night, Shaun paced and quietly seethed that somebody in Hatfield was deliberately lighting fires, and they were either targeting Miss Louise directly, or the bookshop.
Hours later, there were no lights shining from any windows as Hatfield went to sleep. Shaun bit into the pork pie. It was delicious. In the distance, he heard some cats fighting and a dog barked. Perhaps the dog was alerting his owners to that arsonist he’d startled earlier. He could live in hope.
I will get you , he silently promised to himself, and Louise.
He leaned against the shop wall and drifted off a little, confident his presence would warn off anyone who might dare approach. The army had taught him a valuable lesson, to sleep anywhere he could, even if he was standing up leaning against a wall.
A cockerel crowed in the distance, although it was still dark. He could have sworn he heard some cows mooing as they woke. He tried checking his fob watch but it was too dark to see the placement of the hands.
He heard the distinct noise of someone feeding the horses in the livery stables behind the Red Lion. From the direction of the church, someone rang seven bells. There would be no usable light on the horizon for at least another hour at this time of year.
In the neighbouring windows across the street, he saw candlelight peeking through. He crossed over the street to look back up to the second floor of Baxter’s Fine Books and was relieved to see light in their window as well.
Somebody was awake.
The whole town would be up soon and he’d be able to share what he knew with Miss Louise.
Mr Haye stepped out of the Red Lion and shook the dust off a rug. “My word, did you stay out here the whole night?”
Shaun nodded. “Was keeping watch.”
“Anything we should be aware of?” Mr Haye asked.
Shaun walked closer and showed him the evidence; the shingle and the tinder box, and he quickly explained their significance.
“Heavens!” Mr Haye said, then he turned to check his own shingle and sighed deeply on seeing it was firmly in place.
“I’ve not seen him come back this way, but you can never be too sure. Lanky tall man, fast on his feet. He got a good head start, otherwise I could have caught him.”
“Breakfast is on the house,” Mr Haye said with appreciation. “The Baxters are good folk and make no mistake. Couldn't live with meself if anything were to happen to them, what with their father not back yet and all.”
“You’re a good man, Mr Haye,” Shaun said, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder, “I’m glad the Baxters have people watching out for them.”
“Well, not to mention a fire lit there could easily spread!” Mr Haye gestured to the narrow archway which was all that separated the bookshop from the Red Lion.
They parted on good terms and Shaun strolled back to the bookshop, his eyes tired and his body longing for a proper sleep. It could wait, because there were more important things to discuss.
He gave a knock on the shop door when he heard footsteps of somebody inside.
“We’ll be open in an hour if you can wait,” he heard Louise say on the other side.
“Miss Louise, I’m sorry to knock so early, but I have news-”
The door swung open with a tinkle and a worried frown marred her delightful face.
“It’s not news of Papa?” she blurted.
“No, it’s not,” he said with a sigh. “May I come in? This is something you probably don’t want passers-by to overhear.”
“Of course.” She opened the door wide and the bell above tinkled. He turned his foot sideways just in case a cat should run out. None did. They were probably still asleep, smart creatures.
He stepped in and she closed the door, making sure the ‘closed’ sign remained facing outwards.
A soft yellow lamp lit the counter and he walked over to it, producing the tinder box and the shingle. “Last night at the Red Lion, I heard people talk about someone lighting fires. I went outside to get some fresh air a little later, and I saw someone loitering out the front of your shop. He ran off when I called out, and he left these behind.”
“That’s our shingle!” Louise picked it up. “It fell off again?” She looked puzzled. “How…”
“It didn’t fall off, someone deliberately removed the screws, and when it’s lighter out, I’ll have another look to see if I can find them.”
“This is a tinder box,” she said, picking up the object and prising it open. “Well stocked too,” she added.
It was clear from her expression that she believed him and did not think him to be imagining any of this.
“Whoever dropped it ran off. I gave chase for a good while but he had too much of a head start. Tall, though not as tall as me, and thinner. Fast on his feet too. Lost him in an alley somewhere… he knew where he was going, so he knows the town.”
“He might not have been alone! You could have run into a trap,” Louise pointed out.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Shaun admitted. “I figured he was alone.”
“Mr Jackson, you must be careful,” she said.
He’d come here to warn her of the same. “I can handle myself,” he said to reassure her. All the same, it warmed him that she cared about his welfare.
“I don’t wish to upset you but… do you have any enemies?” he asked, trying to phrase it gently but unable to put the thought out of his mind that she could easily have been killed last night.
“Yes we do,” she said, straight away. “The vicar doesn’t like us one bit. I dread to think what we’ll hear in next week’s sermon now that Cousin Phoebe’s been in his ear!”
Shaun pressed his lips together in thought. He’d met the vicar, and Phoebe. Although the reverend blew hard, so to speak, he appeared physically harmless. He was older and walked more slowly, Shaun was sure he wasn’t physically able to run as fast as the man from last night.
“It definitely wasn’t a woman in the street last night,” he said. “And the vicar couldn’t be that spry. Can you think of anyone else?”
“Cousin Joshua?” Louise offered with a shrug. “He wants us out… but wait, he actually wants the building itself. He will eventually get it when Papa dies. Why would he damage his inheritance?”
Shaun shook his head and ruminated. He’d met Joshua as well, but the man was too short to match the culprit from the night before. Unless he’d hired someone? But as Louise had said, Joshua wanted the building. Why would he try and destroy it?
It didn’t make sense, but he had to keep an open mind about what strange motives people had.
“Do you think the person you startled set fire to the barn that burned, and the cottage?” Louise asked.
“I really don’t know. I’ve not much experience in arson, I’m not sure how common it is. Have there been many fires in Hatfield before?”
“Well yes, especially in winter when people fall asleep with a lit candle nearby, or they forget to put the screen in front of the fire at night. We’re always scrupulous about the screen around the fire here, and we blow out our candles in the kitchen and then go to bed, to make sure nobody stays up reading, what with all the books… oh no, the books! Maybe Joshua is so angry with us he doesn’t care about the building any more and just wants to hurt us?”
She appeared to need comfort, and he wasn’t sure what to do. Should he hold her and offer reassurances?