Chapter 5
Chapter Five
‘You did what?’
Katie held up her ringed hands in surrender. ‘I know. I know. I’m so sorry, Popps, but I did feel sorry for the poor guy.’
I shook my head in exasperation. ‘Don’t give me that! I bet if he’d looked like old Archie in the fishmongers, you wouldn’t have been as helpful.’
She reddened again and I let out a grunt. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake.’
‘He said nobody seems willing to talk about the Scarlet Highwayman,’ said Katie. ‘The folks he’s spoken to have written the poor guy off as a charlatan. You never have.’
I toyed with a crumb of croissant on my plate. ‘But don’t you think I might have enough on at the moment with the cottages?’
My sister-in-law leaned her elbows on the edge of the breakfast bar. ‘I’m sorry, Poppy. I didn’t think. It’s just – you’ve always insisted that the Scarlet Highwayman wasn’t the evil cretin a lot of people round here seem to think.’
Katie’s words rang true as they swam around inside my head.
‘Because some folks like to think the worst of people. All the nasty rumours about him have never been proved to be true.’ I sighed.
‘I think this guy just wants to get some insider knowledge.’ She gave me a shy smile. ‘And let’s face it, you’re somewhat of a local expert on him.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Enough of the flattery.’
I shifted on my stool and considered what Katie had just told me.
‘No. No, you’re right. If this is an opportunity to find out more about the Scarlet Highwayman – clear his name even – then it can only be a good thing.
’ I reached over and patted her hand. ‘I’m sorry I snapped at you.
Just ignore me.’ I gestured around with one flailing hand.
‘I’m starting to wonder what the hell I’m doing by taking on these bloody cottages. ’
Katie shrugged. ‘If anyone can pull this off, it’s you, and you’re not on your own. Please remember that.’
I drained the last of my coffee. ‘Thanks for breakfast.’
She offered me a cheeky wink. ‘Oh, I’m not going anywhere just yet. I intend to hang around until Handsome Harry arrives.’
The next hour was spent pottering about the annexe, while I told Katie about my initial design thoughts. ‘They have the potential to be cosy and inviting,’ I said, ‘but they just look so dated and weary.’
I pulled up the random notes I’d entered on my mobile and was about to give her a summarised version of my ideas so far, when Katie sprang up from her kitchen stool. ‘I heard a car.’
Moments later, there was a polite knock on the door.
Katie answered and moments later, a tall, dark-haired man with silvery eyes appeared. Beside him trotted a rumpled Old English sheepdog.
‘Sorry about this,’ he rumbled in a deep Australian accent. ‘I’ll tell Darwin to wait outside.’
And I was grateful for the distraction, as I found myself staring at him far longer than I should have. There was just such a confident assurance about him.
‘Not at all,’ I insisted, clearing my throat. ‘I love animals and it’s very chilly to be out there today.’
Katie waggled her eyebrows at me. I wish she hadn’t done that. It just made me feel even more self-conscious, which was annoying. ‘Well, I’ll be off, then,’ she said from the doorway.
I ignored her loaded grin as she departed and watched as Darwin trotted into the kitchen, his ice-blue-ringed eyes shining out of his sprouts of grey and white fur.
‘Aren’t you gorgeous?’ I cooed, kneeling down to rub behind his mismatched white and ink-black ears.
‘I take it you’re addressing the dog?’
I glanced up, irritated for some reason by the glint in Mason Cooper’s magnetic eyes.
Darwin flicked out a strawberry-pink tongue and proceeded to lash me with wet kisses. ‘He’s so cute,’ I told his owner. ‘He’d be a great subject to paint.’
‘That’s if you could persuade him to sit still for long enough’ came Mason’s dry response. ‘Darwin! Come here, boy. He’s five but still acts like a mischievous pup.’
Darwin ambled back as commanded.
I offered Mason a drink, but he declined and sat down in one of the armchairs. He was wearing a creamy, chunky sweater and bottle-green combat trousers, which set off his dark, intense brows and light eyes. Katie was right. He was very good-looking.
‘So, your sister-in-law was telling me you’ve always had a deep interest in the Scarlet Highwayman?’
‘I have,’ I admitted. ‘Ever since I was at secondary school.’
He regarded me with inquisitive eyes like shards of silvery-grey quartz. ‘Can I ask why?’
I tried to bury the sensation of feeling self-conscious under his enquiring gaze. ‘I suppose I always felt not enough was known about him to make an informed decision on his character and what he may or may not be guilty of. That doesn’t seem to have stopped many of the locals, mind you.
‘There’s always been a lot of gossip about him,’ I added, ‘but nothing concrete. And the terrible things some people say he did – well, I’m still to be convinced.’
Mason ran a hand through his dark, crisp hair. ‘You mean the burning down of that orphanage and the murder of that high court judge?’
I studied him. ‘I can see you’ve been doing your homework.’
He gave a small smile. ‘I’m a historian. That’s what we do.’ Then he appeared to choose his words. ‘I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that highwaymen were not all brimming with irresistible charm.’
‘I never assumed that highwaymen were all dashing, wronged gentlemen,’ I replied with a hint of annoyance. ‘I read somewhere that Hounslow Heath in London used to be one of the most dangerous places in the country for violent highwaymen.’
He nodded, a dark eyebrow arching. ‘That’s right.’
‘Look,’ I said, ‘there’s just something about the Scarlet Highwayman that tells me people might be reading him wrong.’
Mason inclined his head. ‘I admire your dedication to this story, but you must know that at that time in Scotland, following the Highland Clearances and the Industrial Revolution, working-class Scots felt marginalised. They were the backbone of new farming methods, not to mention the linen and cotton industry, but they weren’t receiving the pay, conditions or recognition they deserved. ’
I arched my brow in return. ‘I understand that it wasn’t until the early nineteenth century that there was such a thing as a regulated local police force?’
Mason’s mouth twitched. ‘That’s correct. And your point is?’
‘My point is that up until then, these individuals who were appointed law enforcers were placed there by wealthy members of society. They could be manipulated, controlled and easily used.’
Mason gave a brief smile. Two dimples, one in each cheek, made a teasing appearance.
‘Look, I agree no assumptions can be made about anything at the moment, and I think there’s a lot about this guy that needs to be revealed.
And that’s why I’d really appreciate your input.
’ He leaned forward. ‘Katie told me about what you’re planning to do with these cottages, so I’ll understand if you feel unable to commit any time.
’ He glanced around the annexe. ‘She also mentioned that you’re an artist, is that right? ’
‘Struggling, but yes.’
‘Well, if you are too busy to assist me, I’ll understand.’
I shook my head. ‘No, I’d like to help. I’ve been saying for years that the Scarlet Highwayman story should be looked into properly.’
‘That’s great. I really appreciate it.’
I took in his strong jaw and the way his hair furled at the back of his neck.
‘Have you moved here to Port Starr?’ Katie had already told me he had, but I didn’t want to seem too interested and give him the impression he was the talk of the town.
Something told me he had enough confidence as it was.
‘I have. It’s a spectacular place with such gorgeous scenery, and the harbour, and that castle you have here. It’s like something out of a fantasy novel. I bet it harbours a few secrets.’
‘Yes. McKerron Castle is very special. It’s the pride of Port Starr. It’s like our equivalent of the palace in Disneyland.’ I found myself smiling as I thought about it. ‘There’s so many tales about that place. And it’s a fantastic subject to paint.’
‘I expect it is.’
Mason gestured towards the town. ‘I’m from Sydney, but I’ve always been fascinated by European history. I based myself in London for a while.’ He looked out the window, his earnest gaze drinking in the sea and the horizon.
He took his phone out of his front pocket. ‘I think the initial way forward is for me to do some more local research. Are there any stalwarts in the community who are members of historical societies or something similar?’
There was Eliza Compton, self-appointed custodian and one of the main guides at McKerron Castle. I told Mason about her and he nodded. ‘She sounds like someone I should speak to.’
He glanced down at his watch. It was a big, chunky black thing with a solid silver strap. ‘I’d better be off.’ He fished in the front pocket of his combats again, and this time pulled out a business card. ‘I’ve moved into one of those new apartments near the harbour. Here’s my mobile number.’
I snatched up a Post-it from the kitchen and scribbled my number down for him. He took it. ‘That’s great, Poppy. Hopefully, together, we can get to the truth about this mysterious man.’
‘That would be wonderful,’ I agreed. ‘It would be wonderful to put an end to all the wild accusations about him.’
I opened the front door and watched Mason’s long legs stride away across the cobbles, with Darwin at his heels.
Something told me I maybe was a little too hasty in agreeing to work with him. But, oh well, it was too late now. And after everything else I’d been through could there ever be too many distractions to mend a broken heart?