Chapter 40
Theft
It was a dreadful picture of ingratitude and inhumanity … no flagrant open crime could have been worse.
Jane Austen, Persuasion
As soon as Rosalind and Adam were dressed, they raced downstairs to the common room. Mr. Leigh stood at the bar beside his wife. Both straightened as she and Adam reached them.
“Leigh, I need a message sent to Sampson Goutier,” Adam said. “You can ask for his direction at the City police station. Tell him what you told us, and say he and Sam Tauton should meet us up at Lansdown as fast as they can get there.”
“I’ll go myself, sir.” Leigh pocketed the coins and strode away, bellowing, “Davey! Saddle the bay! Davey!”
“If anyone comes asking, you may tell them where we’ve gone,” Rosalind told Mrs. Leigh. “But nothing more.”
“As you say, miss.” Mrs. Leigh curtsied. “I hope all comes out right.”
Oh, so do I. But Rosalind said nothing, she just followed Adam to the coach-and-four that waited in the yard.
Adam waved for the driver to keep his seat. He helped her inside himself and shut the door behind them. Seeing Rosalind was settled, he banged on the roof, signaling the driver they were ready. The man touched up the horses and eased them into the early morning traffic.
“Why would anyone steal a horse that was going to go missing anyway?” asked Rosalind. “Is this the switch we’ve been expecting?”
“It can’t be,” said Adam, more to the world outside the window than to her. “A lookalike scheme depends on no one knowing that anything has happened to the original horse. If Pride has gone missing, it can only mean that things are falling apart.”
Yes. Surely, two murders would strain the best-laid plans. “Do you think the principals in the scheme are hoping to cover their tracks?”
“Possibly,” said Adam.
“Once we’ve talked to Devon and Clara, we should go back to the Kinsdales and talk with Laurel and Mrs. Kendricks,” Rosalind told him. “I want to know where Elizabeth has been this morning.”
“If she’s still there,” muttered Adam.
“Yes,” said Rosalind. “If she is.”
Something in her tone turned him toward her. “Do you want to go there now? I can drop you off and go ahead to Lansdown on my own.”
Rosalind considered this, but then shook her head. “No, I want to talk with Clara first.”
Adam was silent. Rosalind sighed.
“You want to ask if I still suspect Clara of … participating in this mess?”
“Do you?”
“I suspect her of loving her sisters as much as she loves Devon, while also being very angry at both of them,” said Rosalind. “I think it’s very possible she might have spirited the horse away to keep Elizabeth from getting herself into even worse trouble.”
Adam nodded thoughtfully. “That wouldn’t be a bad idea, as such. If Kinsdale’s Pride vanishes because she’s been stolen, rather than just because Clara and Casselmaine want her out of the running, Elizabeth can’t try to argue them out of it.”
“Neither could Cynthia, if she’s involved.”
They both fell silent then, each of them wrapped up in their own thoughts.
Rosalind turned the pieces of what they had learned over in her mind.
She fit them together and pulled them apart again, trying, and failing, to find the picture that was true.
A single glance at Adam told her he was occupied in the same manner.
Neither of them could stop worrying at the problem, but neither was ready to speak any more about it. Not yet.
They’d left Bath now, and turned onto the road leading up to Lansdown.
The coach rocked badly and listed to one side, but the driver did not slow down.
Rosalind pressed both hands against the seat to try to keep herself steady.
Adam raised his hand, probably to knock on the roof and tell the driver to have a care.
Then, all at once, the driver shouted. They heard hoofbeats and a scream.
Their carriage lurched, and swerved and bounced.
Adam grabbed Rosalind and they both slammed against the door as the vehicle teetered badly, and for one wild instant, Rosalind felt sure they must be overturned.
But they came to a rest upright, although at a precarious angle.
Adam held on to Rosalind’s shoulders as she pushed herself away from the door. His gaze met hers and she nodded. She was all right, and so was he.
Adam let down the window glass and worked the door handle. After a small amount of struggle, the door opened. He climbed out and helped Rosalind down behind him. Now she could see they were just on the edge of the ditch. A few inches further, and the coach would have been on its side.
“Madman!” The driver was already among the horses, catching hold of the reins and working to keep them from tangling themselves in the harness. “Came tearing down the hill!” He waved one arm. “I had to swerve, sir, or we’d’ve been hit.”
“No harm taken,” said Adam. “I can help with the horses.”
“Yes, sir. If you can just hold of the off lead here. …”
Adam hurried around to take control of the horse’s head, just as the horse threatened to rear up. Rosalind watched, her heart in her mouth, her attention entirely on Adam and the driver.
She never felt the blow.