Chapter 24 #2
“No matter is ever closed when a wench ‘umiliates a man,” Keefer muttered bitterly, groaning as he lifted himself up on his elbows. “The girl ‘umiliated ye, didn’t she? She turned ye down fer a man who used t’ be yer servant, didn’t she?
I can’t imagine that fine turn of events made ye too ‘appy, Mr. Spencer. I’ve discovered in me year at Raven’s Point that yer a man who doesn’t like t’ be crossed.
I would think wot I have t’ say is o’ great interest t’ ye.
Per’aps it might help ye t’ think of a way t’ pay ‘er back…ye know, fer wot she did t’ ye.
And in me own way, I’d be gettin’ back at ‘er, too.”
“How so?” Dominick asked, becoming more intrigued in spite of himself.
“Not so fast. Ye ‘aven’t said yet that ye’ll pay me price. Now, will ye or no?”
“An overseer?”
“Aye, with a good ‘orse and a whip. I’ll work off the five years left t’ me sentence, then I’ll be on me way and ye’ll never see me in these parts again. Are we agreed?”
Hating that he must strike a bargain with a common thief, even if he was only pretending to, Dominick tersely answered, “Agreed.”
“I ‘ave yer word on it?” Keefer queried, still leery.
“You have my word as a gentleman.” As the convict visibly relaxed, Dominick knew he had him. “All right, Dunn. How do you know that the woman I planned to marry is an impostor?”
“Because by some fluke o’ nature, Susanna Guthrie’s got the same ‘air and eyes as ‘er mistress, Camille Cary. I knew Susanna in London, and a fine beauty she was even at twelve years. Ye never forget such a face and figure, and I couldn’t believe it when I saw ‘er this mornin’.
Her father, Daniel, was me good friend, and one night ‘e agreed t’ sell me ‘is daughter fer a night’s tumble.
The chit ran away when she found out, and as me and ‘er father were chasin’ her, Daniel was run over by a hackney coach.
And who do ye think was inside that fine carriage?
Baroness Redmayne and ‘er grandniece, Camille Cary.”
“How did you find out all of this?” Dominick demanded, scarcely able to believe what he was hearing, yet finding it difficult not to.
“A constable was summoned, and I watched ev’rything from a nearby alley, way back in the shadows.
The baroness decided t’ take Susanna ‘ome with ‘er rather than send the chit t’ an orphans’ work’ouse, I s’pose out o’ pity.
The rest I found out the next day. It’s easy enough t’ bribe a constable’s clerk fer information, Mr. Spencer, and I learned wot I needed t’ know. ”
When Keefer paused to roll himself on one elbow, grunting in pain, Dominick said impatiently, “Go on, man!”
Throwing him a resentful glance for the misery he was suffering, the convict nonetheless continued.
“A few weeks later, I followed Susanna t’ Fairford in Gloucestershire t’ try and get ‘er back. I’d paid good money for that wench!
She owed me a tumble! I couldn’t get near the manor, but that Sunday mornin’ I saw the two girls comin’ out o’ church lookin’ like peas from the same pod.
That’s wot made me realize today in an instant that me Susanna is now playin’ a much cleverer game than pickin’ pockets and beggin’ as she once did in London. I only wish I knew ‘ow she managed it.”
“I think I know,” Dominick murmured, everything suddenly making perfect sense to him. “Camille’s ship was struck by typhus fever during the crossing.”
“There ye ‘ave it, Mr. Spencer! The real Camille died, God rest ‘er soul, while her waitin’-maid became the lady. Ye ‘ave t’ ‘and it t’ her. Susanna’s managed quite a swindle.”
Until now, Dominick thought grimly, feeling as if a crushing load had miraculously been lifted from his shoulders.
Adam Thornton had married an impostor. Was it possible that he already knew?
Could that be why Camille…Susanna had so abruptly married that scum?
He must have found out the truth about her and, wanting to carry out his revenge, had married her anyway, probably forcing her into it by threat of exposure.
Well, now the tables were turned to Dominick’s favor for once in his life. Fortune had finally smiled upon him.
“You never said if you got your tumble or not,” he prompted Dunn, the woman who called herself Camille now nothing more than a whore in Dominick’s eyes. How could she be anything but that, having been both a thief and a beggar, and knowing the likes of this man?
Keefer shook his shaggy head. “One o’ me own paid thieves who envied me position in London alerted the parish constable that I was at Fairford, and I was arrested before I got a chance t’ talk to ‘er, let alone touch ‘er. I was carted t’ Newgate Prison where I spent five years, then they shipped me ‘ere t’ Virginia.”
“Hard luck.”
“Not anymore. I’ve come a step up in the world, eh, Mr. Spencer?”
“That you have,” Dominick said smoothly, moving to the foot of the cot. “Get some rest, Dunn. I’ll have one of the house girls bring you some ointment for your back, and a hot meal. She can help you wash…and whatever else you might fancy her to do for you.”
“That’s right decent o’ ye. I ‘aven’t ‘ad a woman since I left Newgate, and buggery with the lads ‘as never been to me likin’.” Keefer glanced at Dobson, who was still waiting in the distant doorway, his pleased expression fading to a scowl.
“Do ye think ye could call off yer burly watchdog there? I don’t fancy another slam in the face while I’m recuperatin’. ”
“I’ll tell him to leave you alone,” Dominick replied, starting to walk away.
“One more thing, Mr. Spencer.”
Irritated but trying not to show it, Dominick paused. “What?”
Keefer gestured to the rusty length of chain that bound his left ankle to the cot. “When will this bloody shackle come off me leg?”
“First thing in the morning,” Dominick promised, thinking of the deadly punishment with currycombs and salt that he still intended to have enacted.
This man couldn’t be allowed to live knowing what he did, nor Dobson either, if the overseer chose to give him any trouble.
Such astonishing information was for him alone, especially when he was now going to use it to save his own neck and the future of Raven’s Point.
“There’s something I must ask of you, Mr. Dunn. ”
Appearing startled that Dominick would address him with such courtesy, the convict blurted, “Anythin’, Mr. Spencer. Joost name it.”
“Don’t mention our discussion to your mates when they return from the fields later this afternoon, or to anyone else for that matter, not even Dobson.
Until you’re out of here tomorrow, you don’t want to risk the other convicts finding out that you’ll soon be the one wielding the whip over their heads.
Oh, yes, and the girl will have to be gone back to the house before they arrive.
Keefer grinned a lusty, gap-toothed smile. “I should be through with the wench by then, and ye’ ‘ave me word about the other. I’ll not suffer a lynchin’ just when me luck’s about t’ change.”
Dominick said nothing more and quickly left the building, desperate to escape the foul air. He gestured for his overseer to follow him outside; his eyes were watering when he turned to face the man.
“It was nonsense, Dobson, all of it. Just lies made up to try and save his skin. Say nothing more to that prisoner, do you hear? In fact, don’t even go near him. I’m sending over a girl to see to his back and give him a little pleasure before tomorrow morning.”
“That’s unusual, isn’t it, Mr. Spencer?”
“Are you questioning my orders?” he snapped angrily.
“No, sir. Not at all.”
“Good. Keep it that way.”
Without another word to the startled overseer, Dominick strode back to the house, his thoughts already upon the damning letter he planned to write to Adam Thornton, to be delivered by messenger that very afternoon.
If what that fool Dunn had told him was true, and he had every reason to believe it was, then he imagined he would be receiving by nightfall an equally swift reply that met all of his demands.
Murder was no longer necessary, nor must he marry that slut to save himself. Simple blackmail would suffice. Adam and his London whore had fallen right into his hands. They would soon know it was folly to attempt to best Dominick Spencer.