21. Misery Loves Company
CHAPTER 21
Misery Loves Company
T he days passed in a blur of loneliness for Louise. She spent every day working in the bookshop trying to wear herself out, and then still couldn’t seem to get a good night’s sleep for worrying. She couldn’t stop jumping from one fear to the next. Her father, Cousin Joshua’s horrible plan to seize the bookshop out from under them, and most of all, Shaun.
Bernadette seemed less concerned, insisting that they had allies in Lord Ferndale as well as Mr Yates and Lord Renwick, who would surely be hurrying to their aid. Lord Ferndale had already written to his man of business in London instructing him to create a second petition to Chancery Court to be made guardian of Louise and Bernadette, which would protect them at least, even if he couldn’t protect the bookshop.
Louise had suggested transporting some - if not all - of the books to Ferndale Hall for safekeeping, but Lord Ferndale had pointed out that unfortunately Cousin Joshua might be able to accuse them of stealing his property if he got his way with the Court.
Thwarted at every turn. Louise tapped her quill on the counter, trying to think. Maybe if they sold the books to Lord Ferndale for a fraction of their worth? But the ledgers would prove otherwise and Joshua would say they had cheated him… unless they burned the ledgers… no. Everything in her cringed away from the thought.
The door crashed open, the bell flying off its hanger and hitting the floor, and Louise sighed, remembering the last time that had happened. Shaun had fixed it for her. Well, she’d have to fix it herself, just like everything else around here. She braced herself for yet another Cousin Joshua confrontation - he was the only person who’d push the door open so violently - and was utterly shocked to see Bernadette rush in, white-faced.
“What’s happened?” Louise stood up, sudden terror bolting through her.
Bernadette didn’t seem to be able to speak, her mouth working soundlessly, her whole body shaking violently. Grabbing her sister’s arm, Louise kicked the door shut, grateful that it was a Saturday and the bookshop was closed. Nobody would come in to interrupt them.
“Sit down before you fall down, and tell me what’s happened!” She pushed Bernadette onto the stool behind the counter and crouched in front of her, chafing Bernadette’s cold, shaking hands between her own.
Louise wasn’t sure how much more bad news she could take.
“Re-Reverend Millings,” Bernadette said between chattering teeth.
“What’s he done now?” Rage flooded Louise, replacing her fear. Reverend Millings was a petty annoyance compared to everything else, but she was reaching the end of her tether. Perhaps it was time she gave the man a real piece of her mind; she’d held her tongue until now, but enough was enough!
“He’s d-dead.”
Louise stared at her sister in shock. “ What did you say?”
“He - he just fell over dead. Right in front of me and Glynn, I mean, Dr Williams, he was shouting and he just fell down and started foaming at the mouth and then he was dead .”
Bernadette had seen death, Louise knew. Many times. But this… this kind of death was something different. And even though Reverend Millings had been no friend of theirs, seeing that happen right in front of her had obviously affected Bernadette deeply.
Louise felt a certain amount of guilt that her first emotion was relief. No more fire and brimstone sermons directed their way from the church’s pulpit would be one small weight off her shoulders, at least.
“Come on.” She put her arm around Bernadette and helped her to her feet. “Let’s get you upstairs.”
Handing her sister over to Mrs Poole’s motherly care, Louise headed back downstairs, wondering if she should go over to the vicarage. Mrs Millings would surely take to her bed and Ruth would… Louise had no idea what Ruth would do. But if Ruth needed a refuge outside her home, she’d come here. Best to stay downstairs with the door unlocked in case Ruth came, Louise decided, and settled herself behind the counter, reaching for a fresh sheet of paper.
She’d write to Marie. Reverend Millings’ death was too exciting a piece of news not to share, and Marie had suffered as much abuse as any of them, or more, though she had been fortunate enough not to witness the most recent sermons. The tirade from the pulpit the Sunday after Marie ran off to Scotland to marry Renwick had almost shaken the stained glass from the church’s windows.
Not only that, but Marie understood a little of what Louise was feeling. Far away as she was, she had written some very kind letters to Louise since Shaun had gone away to fight. Marie had suffered her own heartbreak when she thought Renwick wasn’t coming back for her; she knew what Louise was enduring.
Thank goodness nobody came through the door, because if they had, they would have seen Louise smiling as she wrote the words, “ Brimstone has just dropped dead, right in front of ‘Dette! ”
There was no immediate replacement for the deceased clergyman. As the next day was Sunday, they still headed to church, as did many from Hatfield, but there was nobody to lead the congregation. Even though gossip spread quickly, there were many who had no idea what had transpired the day before.
It was all a bit odd; the building was there, everything looked the same, but nobody was in charge. Bernadette said she’d visit Mrs Millings later that day. The woman would most likely still be in shock. Ruth would be with her mother, trying to console her. For a moment, Louise wondered whether the two of them might be relieved he was dead as well.
Cousin Joshua puffed himself up and took charge as the church filled up. He walked to the altar and stood as if delivering a speech on behalf of the king. Louise rolled her eyes in anticipation of their cousin putting himself at the centre of town events.
It took longer than usual for people to take their seats, as chatter increased about why the town magistrate was standing up the front and not Reverend Millings.
“Dear people of Hatfield, I bring terrible news,” Joshua said. He was trying to make his face look stern, but failed.
Bernadette whispered, “He looks constipated.”
Louise tried not to laugh.
Thank goodness Joshua did not hear them. “Our beloved leader in faith,” he intoned, “has passed suddenly. We do not know all the facts at this time, and no-doubt everybody is in shock. We shall have a period of official mourning and will not be able to resume services until the bishop sends us a replacement.”
This brought a murmur of chatter as people wondered how long they’d be without a clergyman. Somebody nearby scoffed, “I’ll not be going to the Catholics.”
Joshua had delivered his news, but was not stepping down. “I urge all to treat this event with solemnity and lean on your faith. Now is not the time to engage in idle gossip.” At which point he looked directly to Bernadette and Louise.
Louise rolled her eyes with exasperation. Joshua would do better to look to his own wife, if he didn’t want idle gossip spread!
The town was agog with the terrible news that their community leader had died. Louise was so relieved Bernadette had not been on her own when it had happened, because the gossip Mrs Poole and Rosie shared was leaning towards some people suspecting Bernadette had done something to bring it on. A cruel rumour started by Phoebe, Louise suspected, though she had no proof.
The bishop sent a replacement curate to stand in temporarily, but he was a small man who spoke so quietly nobody ever learned his name, and certainly could not hear him even in the front pews of the church. No wonder he had no church of his own, Louise thought. Luckily Lord Ferndale continued their routine of having lunch at Ferndale Hall afterwards.
They were part way through a lovely meal when Miss Yates asked, “This business with the Reverend is most upsetting. How are you faring, Bernadette?”
“I’m recovering from the shock. As are Mrs Millings and Ruth.”
“The poor dear,” Miss Yates said, “Although, would it be very wrong of me to now think we have more chance of the parsonage land being used for the hospital?”
“And we will have a clergyman of sense, sooner rather than later!” Lord Ferndale said firmly. “The living is in my gift, after all. I shall be interviewing suitable candidates quite soon and I will be selecting someone without Reverend Millings’ many character flaws, this time around!”
“Perhaps you should let me interview him too, brother,” Miss Yates said.
Lord Ferndale opened his mouth, perhaps to dismiss the suggestion, but then stopped himself, looking thoughtful. “Do you know, Florence, that is an excellent suggestion. I should like to know the new man’s true beliefs regarding women’s capabilities, before I make any irrevocable decisions. Yes, you shall interview the candidates too… and perhaps we can suggest that they call into the bookshop and learn their views on young women in business and literature of what some might consider to be a frivolous nature, too.”
“One problem solved, at least,” Louise said, though she thought privately that it solved none of hers.
In the middle of June, as summer made itself felt, Benjamin Baxter returned to Hatfield for his term break and there was a fire that very night.
Louise wasted no time, once Rosie rushed into the shop and told her the news. She went straight to the livery stable, hired a horse and rode to Ferndale Hall.
“Benjamin Baxter’s back,” she said as the butler Mr Thorne showed her into the breakfast parlour.
“Oh, dear.” Lord Ferndale looked up from his plate.
“And there’s already been a fire.”
“Of course there has.”
“Was anyone hurt?” Miss Yates said anxiously.
“Not yet, but it’s surely only a matter of time. With Mr Jackson and his men gone…” Louise shrugged, fighting against the pain those words caused her. She hadn’t heard a word from Shaun, and the news was absolutely terrifying, with Napoleon having gathered a vast army to him and news of shocking battles and lives lost.
“I don’t have anyone to appoint to watch him!” Lord Ferndale spread his hands helplessly. “Not to cover the entire district, anyway. Maybe just in town…”
A thought occurred to Louise. “What if he didn’t have the horse?”
Lord Ferndale frowned. “Your cousin’s horse?”
“Joshua barely ever rides it anyway,” Louise paced, trying to think things through. “What if… the horse was… stolen?”
“I am not risking any of my men for horse thievery, and you are certainly not to do it yourself!” Lord Ferndale said sharply. “Your cousin could have you transported, if you were caught!”
She certainly did not want that, and she would not endanger any of Lord Ferndale’s men, either. “Well, what if for some reason the horse couldn’t be ridden?” An idea came to her. “The farrier!”
“Mr Hollick?” Miss Yates said. “What about him?”
”He’s a good man, and he and Cousin Joshua are not friends. His wife is very fond of Bernadette after ‘Dette helped her through childbed fever. I’m sure he’d help.”
“Temporary lameness,” Lord Ferndale guessed. “Well, that’s clever, Louise. Very well. I shall write you a note to take to Mr Hollick requesting his assistance.”
“And perhaps we shall confine Benjamin’s activities to the town where he is more likely to be caught!” Louise felt almost giddy with hope.
Miss Yates nodded in fervent agreement. “And do not forget, dear, to be very sure to point out to everyone that the return of the arsonist means it could not possibly have been Mr Jackson, too.”
Louise froze. She hadn’t even thought of that, but of course! A moment later, she drooped a little. “What good is it to clear his name, if he doesn’t ever come back?” she said bitterly.
“Now, now, dear, you are not to think like that.” Miss Yates took her hand and drew her to a seat at the table. “Mr Thorne, do bring Louise some tea, and a plate of toast. You’re to sit down and eat some breakfast while Arthur writes that note for Mr Hollick.” She shot Lord Ferndale a pointed look.
“Indeed, I shall get to that at once.” Lord Ferndale abandoned his half-eaten breakfast and made for his study.
Half an hour later, Louise was on the horse again riding back to Hatfield, and as soon as she arrived back in town she went to Mr Hollick the farrier, who listened thoughtfully to what she had to say, read Lord Ferndale’s note and then tossed it into his forge.
“Best there’s no evidence that ever existed,” he rumbled, a twinkle in his eye. “Leave it to me, Miss Louise. I’ll get it done while the Baxters are eating their dinner… always have it precisely at six, they do. That horse’ll be lame if the boy tries to ride it anywhere tonight.” He tapped his hammer meaningfully against his palm. “And if he tries to light any fires around here… well, folks’ll be watching.”
She felt a lot better by the time she got back to the bookshop, though as she opened the door Bernadette looked up where she was trying to comfort a sobbing Brutus and said; “Where have you been ?”
“Ferndale Hall.” Louise took in the huge bruise on Brutus’ face and clenched her fists with silent fury. “Is that courtesy of your brother?”
“He’s meaner than ever,” Brutus sniffled. “Can I stay here, please? Please don’t make me go home…”
“You can have Marie’s room.” Louise made a snap decision. “Has Dr Williams seen him yet, Bernadette?”
“No, I can handle this, it’s only bruising.”
“It may well be, but I should like Dr Williams to see it all the same. As a witness,” Louise elaborated when Bernadette gave her a curious look. “So that when I tell Cousin Joshua that Brutus is not going back to that house while Benjamin is there, we have someone with some authority to back us up.”
“I’ll take him straight across to see the doctor now.” Bernadette took Brutus’ hand.
“I can really stay?” Brutus asked Louise.
“You really can. But you might have to be brave and come in front of the town council with me and show them your injury, and explain that your brother did it, if your father demands you back. Do you think you can do that?” Louise asked him.
“Yes. I can do that.” Brutus jutted his jaw, before wincing and putting his free hand to his cheek.
“Off you go to Dr Williams. Mrs Poole,” Louisa called up the stairs. “Could you and Rosie come down for a moment, please?”
Mrs Poole and Rosie came down, looking at her curiously. Louise put her hands on her hips. “I am done sitting back and letting Cousin Joshua and Phoebe spread their slander to all and sundry without fighting back,” she said. “So. I need you two.”
Rosie grinned, catching on quickly. “What do you need people to know, Miss Louise?”
“Three things.” Louise held up a finger. “First of all, that since the arsonist is apparently back, and that Mr Jackson is still bravely fighting in France, obviously he was not the culprit.”
Mrs Poole nodded approvingly. “Oh, indeed. And Mr and Mrs Baxter will owe him an apology, when he returns.”
“What’s the other two things?” Rosie asked eagerly.
“The second is that Brutus Baxter will be living here with us until his older brother leaves for school again. You haven’t seen him yet, but Bernadette has just had to take him to the doctor because Benjamin gave him a dreadful bruise on his face. I shouldn’t wonder if his cheekbone is fractured.” Louise wasn’t even exaggerating.
Mrs Poole and Rosie both looked horrified. “The poor wee lad!” Mrs Poole cried.
“Exactly! I want everyone in town to know his parents don’t care a jot… tell them that Joshua would let Benjamin beat him to death and not step in. Well, I won’t have it.”
“Good for you, Miss Louise,” Rosie said. “And the third thing?”
Louise took a deep breath. She might be making a mistake… but she might be saving lives. She would not have deaths on her conscience. “Be careful how you phrase this. But let it not go unnoticed that the very day Benjamin Baxter returned to town is when the fires began again.”
Mrs Poole gave a little shriek. “Louise! You don’t think…”
“Yes. I do think it. And Mr Jackson suspected him too, before he had to leave. He fits the build of the man both Mr Jackson and Mr Stratforth almost caught setting fires, and he had the means. And the motive. Every building burned belonged to someone he - or Joshua - disliked.”
“Saints preserve us!” Rosie, who was Catholic, crossed herself. “And his father the magistrate!”
“Precisely,” Louise said grimly. “He will need to be literally caught in the act. He must be watched.”
“I’ll fetch my hat,” Mrs Poole said. “You leave this to us, Miss Louise. Everyone sensible in Hatfield will know before nightfall what’s been going on, you have my word!”
Louise smiled tightly as the maid and housekeeper hurried off. “I wish you were here, Shaun,” she whispered to the empty bookshop. “But since you’re not… I shall take care of myself, and everyone else too.”
For a moment, she could almost hear his voice, smell the woodsy scent of him when he stood close to her. “ I have not the slightest doubt that even if you had nobody at all to help you out, you’d pull through, Louise Baxter ,” he’d said to her once. “ You’re really quite remarkable, you know .”
“You’d be proud of me, I think,” she said aloud, before squaring her shoulders and marching behind the counter to take her usual seat. Because no matter what, Baxter’s Fine Books was still going to be open for business. Today, and every day, if she had anything to say about it.