Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
The first day of White Willow Cottages was very encouraging. We received several weekend bookings, as well as a family of four who reserved Robin Cottage for a week in August. There was also a flurry of enthusiasm for our ‘Win a weekend stay’ competition.
Katie grinned as she examined the emails in the office.
‘We’ve got several requests for copies of our brochure from local camp sites and tourist attractions.
I’ll send them out first thing tomorrow morning.
’ Then she swung around in her black-and-chrome swivel chair.
‘So, you’re off on another date with Mason, then? ’
‘It’s not a date.’
‘So, what is it, then? It’s not a management meeting.’
I fiddled with my broderie anglaise top. ‘It’s … er…’
What was it exactly? It wasn’t a date, of course.
‘I’m just assisting Mason with some research,’ I clarified.
Katie grinned through her slash of red lipstick. ‘Oh, is that what you’re calling it?’
Two crimson patches throbbed on my cheeks. ‘I’m not talking to you anymore.’
‘Well, that’ll be bloody tricky, seeing as we work together.’
I smoothed down my ponytail and slung my bag over my shoulder as I headed for the office door. ‘Any more smart remarks and I’ll dissolve our partnership.’
Katie stuck out her tongue. ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!’
I was hovering outside, waiting for Mason to arrive, when Katie creaked open the door and slid up beside me. ‘Joking apart, Popps, just promise me you’ll be careful with this Scarlet Highwayman thing.’ Her dark eyes brimmed with concern.
‘Don’t be daft,’ I reassured her. ‘Anyone would think I was involved in some dangerous political scandal.’
‘I’m not being daft,’ she replied. ‘Have you forgotten what happened this morning? We don’t know who that character in black was.’ She looked at me with concern shining in her eyes. ‘And why didn’t Mason report it to the police?’
‘Whoever it was didn’t attack Mason, though, did he?’ I pointed out. ‘He gave him a diary.’
‘No, I know. You told me that. But there’s obviously some weird secrecy surrounding all this.’ Katie placed one ringed hand on my bare arm and let it rest there. She was just about to say something else, when the shadow of Mason’s car melted across the cobbles.
‘Don’t worry. I won’t challenge anybody to a duel.’ I smiled, squeezing her hand with affection. ‘I promise.’
Katie shot Mason a bright smile and then vanished back into the office.
He climbed out of his car, before dragging a hand through his dark, wavy hair. ‘Hi.’
‘Hi there.’
I noticed he had a dark leather zip case slung under one arm. ‘Was it a productive first day, then?’ he asked. ‘You were busy when I left.’
‘Very. We’re done in but very happy with how it went.’
A thought passed across his open, handsome face. ‘Oh. Well, maybe you should go home instead, if you’re feeling tired.’
‘I’m not that tired,’ I assured him. I was still brewing over him escorting other women around Port Starr, but I was trying to rise above it. And I felt like I was so deep into the Scarlet Highwayman research now, I didn’t want to quit.
‘I bet you wouldn’t even admit it if you were.’ He glanced up at the sky and then back at me. ‘I just wanted to say thank you again for this morning. What you did was … well, it was really selfless.’
I squinted up at him. The hazy late-afternoon sun was throwing odd shadows onto the roofs of the cottages. Down below in the main street, businesses were winding down for the day and the sea sounded lazy, its foamy waves whispering into the harbour.
I rummaged in my bag and pushed on my pair of smoke-and-gold sunglasses. ‘You’re welcome. Anybody else would have done the same.’
‘No, I don’t think they would have, Poppy.’
There was a stillness to the salt-dotted air.
I gave a nod to the leather folder under his arm. ‘Is it just your sandwiches you’ve got in that zip case?’
Damn. There was that irresistible grin of his again. ‘Usually yes, but today I’ve got Georgina Lapley’s diary and some notes in there.’
‘Have you managed to read any of it? The diary, I mean?’
‘Yes, I have.’
‘And?’
Mason drew in a breath. ‘Indications are the Lapley family have more skeletons in their closet than hangers.’
I experienced a pang of excitement. ‘Like what?’
Mason jerked his dark head. ‘Come on. We need to do some more digging.’
‘How’s Darwin?’ I asked, as we rounded the corner towards his car.
Mason lifted his car keys and directed them at his gleaming vehicle. ‘See for yourself.’
A furry grey-and-white face popped up at the rear window and let out a series of excited barks. Mason popped the back door open and Darwin spilled out in a cascade of shaggy coat.
‘Hello, boy!’ I laughed, dropping down in front of him. He proceeded to lash my hands and face with his strip of pink tongue.
‘You’ve got a real fan there,’ murmured Mason. ‘He can be a bit guarded with new people, but he took to you straightaway.’ Mason opened his mouth as if to say something more and then thought better of it. ‘We’d better go.’
We bundled into Mason’s car. He didn’t switch on the engine straightaway but instead plucked his mobile from his back pocket and pulled up a local historical website, complete with a royal-blue background.
His dark lashes fluttered while he typed. ‘I think we should investigate the Lapley family tree first, going by what I’ve read so far.’
‘Is there any mention of the Scarlet Highwayman in it?’ I asked with a degree of hope.
Darwin sat like a China ornament on the rear seat.
‘Not exactly,’ answered Mason. ‘But there are frequent references to a mystery man.’
‘Could it be him?’ I breathed, watching the intensity swim across his expression. ‘Could it be the Scarlet Highwayman?’
‘I can’t say,’ admitted Mason, a lock of his black hair dangling down onto his brow, which I had the sudden, mad urge to push back for him. ‘But what I can tell you with a degree of certainty is that Georgina Lapley was having an affair with someone.’
‘An affair?’
He nodded, pinning me to the passenger seat with his intense gaze. ‘And from what I understand from her diary, the family were desperate to keep it quiet.’
‘I suppose it was a sign of the times then.’
‘I know what you mean,’ said Mason, ‘but how do you explain that they still seem to want it kept under wraps, even today?’
I examined him. ‘How do you know that?’
Mason turned in his driver’s seat and retrieved the diary from the zip case by his feet, easing a piece of paper from the back. ‘Read this. It fell out of the diary earlier today when I took it home.’
I unfolded the crisp note, my attention drawn to the fact that it had been typed. My eyes lurched from the paper to Mason as I greedily read it.
Mr Cooper,
Apologies for the dramatic way in which this diary was delivered to you, but I was anxious that it was placed in the right hands.
As you will see from the inscription, this diary belonged to Mrs Georgina Lapley, a member of the Port Starr Lapley dynasty.
I feel it is imperative you have it. I was very concerned that the diary was at risk of being located by another third party, whose interest, as you may have guessed, is not an honourable one.
I hope this diary is of assistance to you in your quest for the truth.
The note finished as abruptly as it began, with no clue as to who had written it – or who had delivered it to Mason earlier that day.
I folded the typed note and handed it back to Mason. ‘Blimey.’
‘Blimey indeed,’ he said, placing it back inside the diary. He then scrolled on his phone, his long fingers clicking on certain sections of the ancestry website.
Names of the Lapley family shimmered up on the screen, ancestors from decades gone by.
Mason’s eager eyes scanned this way and that across the phone screen, until he let out a quiet but excited ‘There! There she is.’
I leaned across, a wave of mint bodywash emanating from under his T-shirt.
Mason stopped reading the web page. His wolf-like stare was inches away from my face. I held my breath as he lifted his attention to my hair, which was still secured away from my face in a high ponytail. His eyes swooped down to rest on my lips.
I pointed back at his phone screen. ‘So,’ I squeaked with a series of frantic blinks, ‘have you found Georgina Lapley, then?’
Mason sank back in his seat, appearing somewhat disorientated. He straightened his shoulders, the spell broken. ‘Er, yes, it looks like it.’
My mind fought not to engage with what had almost happened. Had he been thinking of kissing me? Well, going by his growing reputation, it was a good thing he didn’t. I tried to concentrate on the Lapley family tree.
Mason moved the screen up and down. ‘This family tree confirms it. Georgina Fawcett married Augustus Lapley. They are Alex Lapley’s great-great-great-grandparents.’
I nodded at her diary, lying in Mason’s lap. ‘So, I take it there’s mention of her husband, Augustus, in there.’
‘Yes, there is. He might have been her husband,’ he answered, ‘but she wasn’t in love with him, though.’
‘What do you mean?’
Mason picked up the worn diary and held it in one hand. ‘I’ve only started reading the first few entries, but it’s clear she hated Augustus Lapley and I can’t say I blame her.’
My lips parted with surprise. ‘Really? Why?’
‘Well, to put it bluntly, he was a controlling, spiteful bastard who showed more affection to his two noisy gun dogs than he did to his own wife and son.’
I read the excerpt eagerly as we sat in Mason’s car.
7 June 1793
‘The boy doesn’t need a violin tutor.’
‘With respect, Augustus, I believe he does.’
My husband’s fair brows knitted together with annoyance.
‘He possesses a real musical talent,’ I argued, ‘and with the correct instruction, I think he can achieve wonderful things.’
Augustus drew his thin lips back in a snarl. ‘Are you suggesting, my dear, that your husband has not?’
I swallowed a frightened lump in my throat. ‘Not at all. All I am suggesting is that Oscar would benefit greatly from a suitable music teacher.’
Augustus swished his burgundy coattails and performed his heavy-footed pacing up and down the drawing room. ‘Well, I do not possess the time nor the inclination to organise this.’
‘I assumed as such,’ I answered quickly. ‘I am therefore more than content to organise a tutor for Oscar.’
Augustus dashed one hand over his pale hair. ‘Thank you, my dear.’ He came towards me and pressed his fingers into my upper arms. My stomach clenched.
‘I am so very fortunate to have such a loyal and obedient wife.’ I froze as he came closer, forcing his lips against mine.
‘Keep me informed of your progress,’ he called airily as he strode towards the door.
‘But please ensure that you are not overly generous with the remuneration for this individual.’
I smiled tightly.
‘Oh and, Georgina…’
‘Yes?’
‘That shade of lilac does you no favours.’
Stung, I stared down at the gown I was wearing. It was one of my favourites, with its narrow, V-shaped bodice and fluttery lace detail on the fluted sleeves.
‘I would very much prefer to see you in the red silk I purchased for you.’ His stony eyes flashed at me. ‘I think it would be far more becoming.’
And make me look like that brash young woman who frequents the Jolly Jester, I decided inwardly.
The red gown in question carried black feathers around the scooped neckline and on the hem.
It was a strident, off-the-shoulder affair.
I had been reliably informed that Augustus and this girl were ‘known’ to one another and so, on a dark summer’s evening recently, I had disguised myself and persuaded Harris to take me to the Jolly Jester tavern.
‘Madam,’ insisted Harris. ‘With respect, I would ask you to reconsider. That tavern is of very questionable repute.’
‘As is my husband, it would seem.’
Harris coloured but said nothing.
‘I promise that I shall not make my presence felt. I am merely curious.’
Harris placed his hands behind his back and looked at me levelly. ‘You know I cannot refuse you anything, madam.’
Surprise registered in his deep-set, grey eyes as I took one of his hands in mine. ‘That is because you are a true friend, Harris.’
And so it was that June evening, with the darkness wrapping itself around Port Starr like a giant cloak and oil lamps as tiny as shining pinpricks, that Harris harnessed our horses and took me by carriage to the Jolly Jester.