Chapter 7
THE OPEN PIT CLAY MINE
The clear blue sky stretched nearly cloudless in all directions; the air clean, the breeze soft.
A perfect day for investigating what occurred at the mine, Cecilia thought as she sat on the driver’s bench of a pony cart, waiting to follow the earl and her husband to the mine.
It was the vehicle Miss Jones used to drive Chelsea about, and what Mrs. Duggleston used to shop in the village.
It was perfect for Cecilia’s purpose of investigating the mudslide catastrophe at the clay mine.
She’d even thought to have Mrs. Duggleston pack a basket of food for them and a jug of small beer.
There would be no need to hurry back to the court.
Though she could not ride a horse, Cecilia still wore her riding habit.
The heavy, black cotton fabric would stand up better to mud that might get on it.
Far better in that respect than any of her walking dresses.
She was wearing her half-boots as well. She did not put on her riding hat, opting instead for a straw bonnet that would shade her face better.
The bonnet and its trimmings did not complement her dress; however, Cecilia held that to be of little matter. And who would she see at the mine?
She followed the gentlemen as they left the stable yard.
The land they drove through was a patchwork of greens, broken only by stands of trees and hedgerows.
When they crossed the bridge near the cider mill, she saw that the damage to the structure was not as severe as it might have been.
But with the disaster at the clay mine, he might not have the workforce available to repair the cider mill, the clay mine being a greater need for the health of the estate.
As they started to climb a slight rise, Cecilia noticed a narrow drainage canal coming through the forest, its sides collapsed in areas. There was no water in it now.
The small road they followed suddenly opened into a broad cut-up area of land. James turned back to point out an area by a winch scaffold and told her to back the cart there. They would walk through the mine area together rather than ride around it to ensure the best review of the land.
Cecilia walked beside the winch tower and looked over the mine area. A little more than half the mine looked fine, no sign of a mudslide or weakened wood that Cecilia could see at first glance. But she knew it behooved them to tread softly and thoroughly study the area.
The area around the winch tower had imprints of her husband’s boots; she saw those clearly.
She traced his footsteps to where he had climbed down the terrace walls.
She walked carefully around the edge of the mine, finding where each of the three men who went down into the mine took their descent.
Walking further, she saw the evidence of where they used a rope to pull Mr. Abney’s tarp-wrapped body up to the surface—clay streaks and rope burns on the timber walls.
Everything was as James and Gideon described; nothing unusual.
She followed the open pit mine to the left, closer to where the clay mudslide started near the southeast corner.
Her eyes scanned the landscape. There was a beech tree with a divided trunk ten feet from the mine edge.
She was surprised that those who worked the mine allowed it to stand so long, so close to the pit.
She lifted her head to raise the question when she saw a man ride into the area.
“Lord Monteith!” the man called out.
Gideon stood at the bottom of the pit with James, looking up at a tangle of timber caught in yesterday’s slow-motion descent of the clay.
“Mr. Kassell,” he called out in acknowledgment. He made his way back to the other end of the mine where they climbed in and out of the clay mine. James followed.
Cecilia recognized the name of the man. He was one of the people invited to dinner. Most likely had already received his invitation. She went through the names in her mind and what Mrs. Norcroft said of each. The magistrate? Yes, that’s who he is.
She stepped back into the shade of the split beech tree.
“Went into the village early this morning. On everyone’s tongue was a story of your disaster. At The Rotten Apple, I talked to Davey Abney. He had a big white bandage wrapped around his head. Said he’d been hit in the head yesterday but couldn’t say how it happened.”
“That’s understandable. He was unconscious when we got to him. Looked like a piece of timber hit him,” Gideon said as he approached Mr. Kassell still astride his horse. “Left a big gash.”
“He was going on about something not being right, here. That someone caused the mudslide.”
“That’s why I’m here this morning. To see what happened,” Gideon said, placing his arms akimbo.
Mr. Kassell nodded. He stood up in his stirrups to look across the mine. “I don’t see any signs of tampering.”
How could you? Cecilia wondered caustically. You’re one hundred feet away.
“We’ll be doing a thorough check, and deciding how to clean up this mess. I’m here with my cousin, Sir James Branstoke and…” he looked over to where Cecilia stood. She shook her head. He quickly looked back. “… and when we are done here we’ll be going down to the village to see Mr. Abney.”
“Best tell him to stop with the stories of what happened if he doesn’t know. Rumors are telling all kinds of tales. I’ll be sure to tell who I talk to I didn’t see anything to indicate that kind of trouble.”
“We will. Thank you for coming out to check, magistrate,” Gideon said.
“It’s my duty, Lord Monteith,” he returned formally, then whirled his horse about to return whence he came.
“That was interesting,” observed James.
“Kassell? He tries to do right by what he considers his responsibilities, but the truth is, he is also a lazy man,” Gideon offered. “He’ll take the shortest path to a solution, right or wrong.”
James laughed.
“We’d best be back to it. If there are stories about, no doubt we’ll have more visitors today and that would not be good for finding any evidence.
I think I saw that timber with the ax cut you spoke of yesterday.
I’d like to take a closer look… Cecilia,” he called out to her.
“Might you look about and see if you can find an ax up there, or another tool that would make an ax sort of mark on timber.”
“Gladly,” she called back to him. “I do say there are a plethora of boot prints in this area for no reason that I can ascertain other than the shade of the tree.”
They nodded, laughed, and went back to climbing a mud hill. That will be two changes of clothes ruined, she mused. She compressed her lips and shook her head as she watched James slip and land on his knee. She turned away and began looking at the area around her in earnest.
There were hoof prints under the far side of the tree. They weren’t distinct like they might be after the rain, nor have the sloppy, sucking edges as showed during a rain. They were softened by rain, more indistinct. Before the rain?
Cecilia furrowed her brow as she thought about sabotage before the rain.
The clay mine workers were here every day save Sunday.
She and James arrived on a Sunday, three days ago.
The cider mill fire occurred the next day, and that was when she saw the man on the ridge.
The rain that afternoon would have stopped any work at the clay mine, and the current work was all at the other end of the mine where the winch helped pull the heavy blocks of clay out of the pit.
Her eyes followed a faint trail of footprints from where she assumed a horse had been tied up to the edge of the mine.
Someone jumped down onto the first terrace, then climbed over to the second terrace level where the mudslide began.
There was a hole near the edge of the second terrace. A man-made hole.
“James!” she called out. “Someone has dug a hole on that second terrace… I see something grayish in the hole,” she said. She frowned as she stared at it.
Sir James scrambled higher up the mud hill, past a tumbled patch of timber. Slipping.
“You should let me go first,” remonstrated Gideon. “I am lighter than you.”
“I am nearly already there,” James returned as he pushed a large piece of timber aside.
In front of him was indeed a hole not of Mother Nature’s making, and something of a gray color. To get to it, he pulled out handfuls of dirt the rain had pushed back into the hole. His gloved hand grabbed a hard edge and pulled it out as Gideon reached his side.
It was a piece of pottery. There was a straight-line pattern, like a herringbone pattern, spaced in bands around the piece.
“More Roman rubbish,” Gideon said, disgustedly.
James looked at him. “Why do you call it Roman rubbish?”
“We have been finding small pieces of broken Roman pottery on this side of the mine. Generally not this big; however, even a small piece contaminates the product. The potteries pay a lower price for Kaolin clay with foreign bodies in it. Porcelain ware needs clay without impurities. We’ve stopped digging here and moved to that end,” he said, waving his hand in the direction of the winch.
“Someone must believe this ‘Roman rubbish’, as you call it, has value. From your time in Exeter, can you think of why that might be?”
Gideon settled his chin against his chest as he thought.
When he raised his head, he had an odd twist to his lips.
“I remember hearing that clay-fired pieces can indicate a broader Roman presence in an area. That’s what they have in Exeter.
So maybe Compton’s little fort isn’t so little, as first considered? That’s the only thing I can think of.”
“Halloo!”
They looked up to see the Baron and Baroness Compton wheeling into the area.
“Heard about the accident at your clay mine. Wife and I decided to come pay a visit to see how bad the accident was. Doesn’t look too bad,” the Baron said. He handed the carriage reins to his wife and jumped down to walk closer to the edge of the mine.
Gideon and James walked along the second terrace closer to where the Baron stood above them. Cecilia came away from the area she was inspecting and approached as well.
Baron, I’d like to introduce you to my cousin, Sir James Branstoke and his wife, Lady Branstoke. They are visiting me from Kent.”
“Cousin, you say? Very good, very good. Got an invitation to a dinner party day after tomorrow. Looking forward to it. I understand my houseguest received one as well.”
Gideon laughed. “I didn’t know you had a houseguest, but whoever it is is certainly welcome. Lady Norcroft took over the details of the invitations for me.”
“Admirable woman,” said the Baron. “Mind if I walk around, look it over?”
“Not at all. Baron, look at this piece of pottery my cousin just found.” He took the pottery piece from James and handed it to Baron Compton.
The baron turned it over in his hands. “This was found here?” His eyes lit up. “I’d like Mr. Hawley to see this—my houseguest, that is. He’s now in charge of the excavation, you know, what with Dr. Talbot breaking his leg and all.” He handed the pottery piece back.
“I’ll have it available,” James promised.
“Excellent, excellent. Well, I’ll just take a quick look about. Can’t have the horses standing too long, you know.”
The baron walked along the edge of the pit, stopping where he saw James and Gideon had been digging in the clay. “This where you found that bit?” he asked.
“Yes,” Gideon said.
The baron bobbed his head and continued all the way around the pit. “Nasty business that mudslide was,” he said when he’d made it all the way around.
Gideon nodded. “For right now, we are going to continue working the area by the winch. Can’t expend the time right now on clean-up for the contaminated clay. The potteries are clamoring for the pure clay.”
The baron’s head bobbed again. “Rightly so, rightly so. Well, we shall see you tomorrow evening,” he said as he climbed back into the carriage and took the reins from his wife. “Good luck with this,” the baron said. He clicked at his horse to be off.
“Pleasant enough gentleman,” Cecilia said, walking to stand above where the men stood down on the second terrace. “I talked to his wife while he walked about the mine. Did you know that a denarius Roman coin was found in the area several years ago?”