Chapter 8
THE CURIOUS SEEKERS
After Gideon chased two boys away from exploring the mine accident, James suggested he have men guard the mine day and night for at least a few days.”
“Yes, at least until the curious have something else to nose about,” Gideon said morosely as they watched an older gentleman walk toward them. “Mr. Bagnall-Bently, on your daily walk, are you?” Gideon called out to the man.
The old gentleman smiled and waved his walking stick at him. “Yes. Any day that is a ‘viddy day,’ as my housekeeper says, I shall be walking about.”
“Well, stop your rambles long enough to meet my cousin and his wife,” Gideon invited.
“Cousin, you say? Happy to,” the white-haired man said. Though he wore a slouch hat with a wide brim, Cecilia could see that his face was well-tanned from long hours outside. His light gray eyes stood out, bright and merry, in his tanned face.
“James, Cecilia, I’d like you to meet Mr. Bagnall-Bently, a retired banker.
He’s not my closest neighbor, but one I see more often than others as he wanders about,” he said with a smile and a little laugh.
“Mr. Bagnall-Bently, this is Sir James Branstoke and his wife Lady Branstoke. Our mothers were sisters. They’ve come to visit me for a bit. ”
Cecilia could tell Gideon genuinely liked the man. She hadn’t seen Gideon so relaxed and natural until now, talking with Mr. Bagnall-Bently.
“Pleasure, Lady Branstoke, Sir James,” he said, bowing in an elegant manner he must have used in his banking days. “Pardon me, once I start walking I can’t stand still for long. We’ll chat more day after tomorrow at the dinner?” he suggested.
“We’ll look forward to it,” Cecilia said, smiling. How could anyone not smile at the man? He had that kind of manner—and probably what made him a successful banker, Cecilia surmised.
“Mind if I walk about the mine?” he asked Gideon.
“Not at all. Baron Compton took the same walk not long ago.”
Mr. Bagnall-Bently’s expression turned serious.
“Everyone is going to want to see where the mudslide was. You’ll have all manner of sorts traipsing around here.
Not the thing, you know,” he said, tucking his chin down and looking at Gideon as if he were looking over spectacles.
“I recommend you put men here to watch over things.”
“We were just discussing that need before you came,” Gideon said.
“Good, I’m off then,” Mr. Bagnall-Bently said, swinging his cane before him as he walked along the mine edge.
Gideon watched him for a moment, then turned back to Cecilia and James.
“Mr. Thornbridge is at the cider mill today, directing the clean up so we can evaluate the damage. I’ll ask him to get some men to guard the mine.
Then I will continue to the village to have a chat with Davey Abney and find out what tales he is telling.
May I ask the two of you to stay here until Mr. Thornbridge sends someone? ”
“No need to ask,” James said. “We’ll be here.”
“Besides, Mrs. Duggleston packed food and ale for us. We can have a romantic picnic,” Cecilia said with a teasing smile directed at her husband.
Gideon gave a shout of laughter at that. “A romantic picnic at an open pit clay mine.” He shook his head. “Well, enjoy!” he said. “James, can you give me a leg up?”
“Any time, cousin.”
Cecilia and James stood together as they watched Gideon take the path to the cider mill.
“We’ve had three of the dinner guests visit the mine this morning,” Cecilia said. “And only the magistrate had a specific purpose. How many more do you think will casually come by as have the baron and the banker?”
“Followed so swiftly after the cider mill fire? Many will. They will be wondering what is going on, just as we are. And we don’t know who knows what of the previous incidents.”
“Well, come see what I have found,” Cecilia said, “then we will get something to eat. Mrs. Duggleston did prepare a large repast.”
She showed him where the horse was tied up and where she surmised the person went down into the mine. “The prints are sharp as are those that occurred after the rain storm. They look softened by the rain, disappearing sometimes.”
“Do you know what direction the horse came from?” James asked.
Cecilia shook her head. “With all of our visitors, I haven’t had the chance to see if I could track them back.”
“We should try to do that,” James said.
“Yes, but it will have to wait again. We have another guest,” Cecilia said quietly.
A solid, barrel-chested man riding an equally solid, barrel-chested horse rode toward them. He was a handsome man, probably in his mid-thirties, Cecilia thought. He did not match the description of any of the people Mrs. Norcroft and Miss Nieves had described.”
He swung himself down off his horse with surprising grace for a man of his size.
“I’m George Entwhistle,” he said, “steward for the estate of the widow, Mrs. Hargrave. You must be Monteith’s visitors I’d heard had arrived by yacht! Not a means of travel I’d use, I’d dare say,” he said, flashing a flirtatious smile in Cecilia’s direction.
“We are the Branstokes,” James said formally, amusing Cecilia with his repressing, formal manner. A manner he reserved for those he found encroaching. “Sir James and Lady Branstoke. Monteith is my cousin.”
Mr. Entwhistle did not seem to notice. “That’s where the wall gave way, eh?
” he said, walking along the edge of the mine to where he could get a better look at the damage.
He shook his head. “That will take time to clean up. First the fire and now this? What’s he think of two disastrous events close together?
Was this sabotage like the cider mill?” he asked, turning his head back to them.
“The magistrate thinks not,” James answered.
“Mr. Kassell has been out here already?”
“Early this morning.”
Mr. Entwhistle nodded. He walked back toward them. “Where is Monteith? I’d hoped to speak with him. Mrs. Hargrave wanted me to tell him we could lend him some men if he needs help setting things to right here or at the cider mill.”
“Thank you, we will let him know of Mrs. Hargrave’s generosity. He is in the village visiting the worker who was injured when the wall collapsed.”
“Ah, good man is Monteith, no matter what some others say.”
“And what do others say?” Cecilia queried softly.
He blinked and paused, not expecting her to press him for an explanation. “Well, um, it’s just that being short and all…”
“And all what, sir?” Cecilia pressed. “That his lack of height might somehow affect his intelligence?” She tittered a laugh for his benefit.
“Well, um,” the man stuttered under Cecilia’s intense regard, color rising above his cravat to flood his cheeks.
“Quite the opposite,” she said flatly, staring Mr. Entwhistle down.
“Well, it’s not what I say, now is it? It is what others say, you know.”
Cecilia compressed her lips together, allowing the man to flounder without a rope to pull him to shore.
“I’ll be sure to give my cousin your employer’s message,” Sir James said. “I’m sure he’ll be appreciative.”
“Yes, and thank you. I’d best be getting back now. A steward’s job never ends,” he said, smiling again, a little tighter this time. He hurriedly gathered up the reins of his horse and swung back up into the saddle.
“Good day,” he said as he swung his horse about.
Cecilia didn’t think he heard their answering ‘good days’ for as swiftly as he rode away.
Cecilia and James looked at each other and laughed. It wasn’t ten minutes later that Mrs. Hargrave, with her companion, Mrs. Johnston, drove her carriage into the area.
“Yoohoo!” Mrs. Hargrave called out. She stopped the carriage close to the edge of the mine than Cecilia was comfortable seeing, what with the mudslides of the day before.
“Your steward was just out here,” Cecilia told her.
“Ah! He made it. Good. He wasn’t sure he could with his other responsibilities today. Did he tell you of our offer of assistance at either the cider mill or here?” Mrs. Hargrave said.
“He mentioned help here,” James said. “And I thank you for the offer. However, right now, we will continue to work on the other side of the mine.”
Mrs. Hargrave nodded, then turned back to Cecilia. “I see you are wearing a riding habit. Would you care to go riding with me tomorrow?”
Cecilia laughed. “I should love that; however, I lack a side-saddle,” she told her.
“Oh! Well, that is not a problem, we have an extra one as well as another horse. Mrs. Johnston only reluctantly accompanies me on my rides. She would not object to someone else taking over that activity.”
“That is true,” Mrs. Johnston said. “She insists on riding two or three times a week and I shudder whenever I must don the riding habit. You would be doing me a favor,” the woman said, leaning forward in the carriage to reinforce her words.
“All right, then. I should love to accompany you,” Cecilia said.
“Excellent! Shall we say ten tomorrow morning.”
“That sounds delightful.”
James had just finished the last of the Monteith ale after the lunch Mrs. Duggleston had prepared when Gideon returned with another man riding alongside him.
“Getting bored?” Gideon called out, a broad grin on his face. He was in lighter spirits than he had been. Cecilia was glad to see that.
He threw his leg forward and jumped down from the horse.
“There was nothing boring about the delicious lunch Mrs. Duggleston made,” Cecilia teased. “And you missed it.”
“Aw, well, Mrs. Plummer ensured I did not fade away to nothing.” He turned toward the man he rode into the area with. “Come, Mr. Falstaf. I’d like to introduce you to my cousin and his wife.”
The man, likely still in his second decade, acknowledged them a little shyly. He wore a black band tied around his arm. He dismounted and joined Gideon.