A Knife In The Back
Edrington wasted no time. He immediately gave orders to have four horses saddled and ready before bursting into the drawing room with the others at his back. When he broke the news to the rest of the party Annie paled and swayed on her feet. Emma was at her side and quickly took her elbow, gently but firmly pushing her back to her seat on the sofa. Kennedy quickly crossed the room and knelt before his sister. He was unaware of the turmoil in the room; his only thought was for Annie.
He clasped her hands in his; they were as cold as ice. She met his eyes with a haunted look.
"Archie, it can't be true." Her voice was a choked whisper. "You know it. You must!"
Kennedy flashed a quick look at Emma, sitting beside Annie with her arm around Annie's shoulders. He was loathe to speak of these things in front of her, but he had little choice. It was time to drop all the pretenses. "Annie, I don't know anything. I certainly don't know who Reg is anymore." His voice hardened with determination. "But I have every intention of finding out." He leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before standing. He laid a hand on Emma's shoulder for the briefest moment before moving to join the Edrington brothers.
"No questions right now, please William!" Edrington was saying when Kennedy walked up. Hornblower stood off to one side, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.
Edrington noticed Kennedy's presence then. He nodded once in acknowledgment. "Is she all right?" he asked with a quick glance at Annie. "Good. Let's go, gentlemen."
In the entryway they hastily donned cloaks and hats. Edrington in particular seemed impatient to be off. His face could have been cast in granite for all the emotion he showed, but anger radiated from him in waves. That, and something that was almost akin to resignation; as if he had been expecting some sort of eruption and was merely accepting the inevitable. He pulled on his kid-leather gloves as he strode out the door.
They had to wait a few moments before the horses were brought to the door. Kennedy took advantage of the delay to say a few hurried words. "Hal, I'm sure that my brother could not have killed this man. Not in cold blood, at any rate."
Edrington gave his young friend one agonizingly long, searching glance. "But in hot blood, perhaps? Who knows what any of us is capable of under those circumstances?" He raised one hand to pull his queue free from the collar of his cloak, and Kennedy saw that the hand shook. Edrington must have noticed it at the same moment, because he clenched his fist so tight the leather of his glove creaked. "I don't know what happened tonight, Archie, but its my responsibility to find out. No matter whose brother is involved." He met Kennedy's eyes. "I'm sorry. I know this can't be easy, but it has to be done. If you'd rather not go..." He left the sentence unfinished.
Kennedy shook his head. "No, I have to go. I can't ask my father to do this."
The horses arrived just then with a clatter of hooves on the cobbles of the courtyard. With a start Kennedy recognized two of them; the roan and the bay had both been in Muziallc. It was obvious by the way he stroked its nose that the roan was Edrington's personal favorite. A quick glance at Hornblower showed that he shared his friend's shocked surprise.
"I'll spare you this time, Horatio." And with a cheeky grin for his friend Kennedy mounted the bay.
"I'd rather be spared entirely." Hornblower said with a grimace. But he gamely climbed on one of the horses just as Edrington swung himself into the saddle and kicked his heels back. The roan started down the drive at a canter and the other three hastened to keep up.
Kennedy rode at Edrington's side. Although it was nearly nine o'clock in the evening there was a faint glow in the sky to the west. They didn't speak; there was no point in it until they had more facts. Kennedy let his mind go blank; it was preferable to thinking about what might await them when they arrived. He found himself listening to the conversation between Hornblower and William.
"I don't really understand. Surely between the village bailiff, the constable, and the sheriff they can figure this matter out. Why does His Lordship need to be present?" Hornblower asked.
William laughed slightly. "Noblesse oblige, Hornblower. " The earl turned in the saddle and gave his brother an ugly glare. "What I mean is that there is still a tremendously medieval mentality it most villages. Justice is the local lord's business, and the folk expect him to take care of business, as it were. Especially in an area like this, where old Anglo-Saxon influences are stronger than Norman ones."
Hornblower seemed to mull this over, which distracted him from his purpose of staying in the saddle. He listed dangerously to one side. Kennedy glanced back at his brief cry of alarm, and had to stifle a laugh when William reached out and pushed Hornblower back upright. Even in the encroaching darkness Hornblower's sheepish look was obvious as he thanked his companion.
Kennedy glanced at Edrington, and decided against asking him to moderate their pace. He was tense and angry, and perhaps more than a little disgusted. Kennedy urged a little more speed out of his horse and drew abreast of the earl. They were out of earshot of their companions, so he decided to broach the subject.
"Edrington, do you think we might slow down? You know that Horatio is not exactly an ideal horseman, and I'm a little out of practice myself."
Edrington didn't even look back. "William's a cavalry officer; he can keep an eye on Hornblower." He nudged the roan's flanks and put the animal to a full gallop. "Catch up when you can!" He shouted back over his shoulder.
"Damn and blast!" Kennedy mumbled under his breath before putting his heels back and thundering off in the earl's wake.
When he arrived in the village Kennedy was winded from the ride. The horse, contrary animal that it was, wasn't even breathing hard. He reined in outside the tavern where Edrington was just lowering himself from the saddle. The innkeeper, Gaines, approached the pair from across the green.
"My lord. Mr. Archie." He greeted them respectfully. "I'm sorry to have to bring you out like this, but..."
Edrington shook off the apology. "Never mind all that. What exactly happened, Gaines?"
They set off across the green toward the rough-hewn building that served as the village icehouse and, when circumstances warranted it, the village jail. As they walked Gaines told what he knew, which turned out to be not very much. A group of five men, including Chambers and Reg, had been seated around a table in the tavern, getting loudly and uproariously drunk. Some sort of disagreement arose; there was a great deal of shouting and shoving before they took the discussion outside. A few of the regular village idlers had followed the pack out, and the next thing Gaines knew one of them ran back inside shouting that murder had been done.
"I went outside and found that man, Chambers, lying on the green... Just here it was, m'lord." He gestured to a spot off to their right. "He had a knife stuck in his back clear to the hilt. Mr. Reginald Kennedy" - a quick glance at Archie - "was kneeling alongside the body with blood on his hand and the cuff of his shirt. Before I could ask him anything or he could say a word he simply fell over. Passed out from drink, I expect." he said with another apologetic glance at Archie.
They had reached the icehouse by that time. Edrington paused to strip off his gloves and push them into his belt. Kennedy noticed that his hands were no longer shaking. He reached out and opened the door. They were met by a gust of cooler air and the homey scent of sawdust. Mingled with it were the unmistakable scents of gin and vomit.
Edrington's nostrils flared in response, and had the situation been less serious Kennedy would have laughed at his friend's sudden resemblance to his very well bred horse. But there was little humour to be found. They moved toward the back of the building, and there they found Reg. Unconscious and with a sickening combination of blood and vomit staining his right shirt sleeve. Some of the blood no doubt came from Reg himself; his lower lip was split and his nose had contributed to the mess.
Edrington nudged Reg's shoulder with the toe of his boot. A groan was all the response he got. "See if you can't get through to him." he ordered Kennedy.
Kennedy squatted beside his brother, trying his best to ignore the stench. "Reg?" he asked quietly. "Reg, can you hear me?" He shook Reg's shoulder, gently at first, and then more forcefully. "Wake up, Reg. We need to talk to you about what happened."
Nothing.
Kennedy stood up again. "I don't think he'll be coherent for quite a while." He looked down at his brother. "And he probably won't remember very much of what happened."
Edrington turned away from the sorry sight and addressed Gaines. "Keep him here. The colder air might help revive him. Have you sent word to the militia commander?"
Gaines nodded.
"Good. Station three militia soldiers outside to keep an eye on him." He turned to Kennedy. "Now I suppose we had best have a word with the constable."
They set back off across the green towards the tavern. William and Hornblower had caught up and were standing with all four horses. The buzz and hum of voices could plainly be heard through an open window.
"Hal, what..." William began.
"Not now." Edrington curtly cut him off and entered the tavern.
Silence fell on the assembled crowd like a thunderclap. All eyes were turned to the door and to the sudden entrance of the Earl of Edrington. Kennedy had to admit the man knew how to make his presence felt. In the dim, smoky light of the taproom the red coat and the shining brass of his military uniform shone like a beacon, and the light from the candle sconce beside the door turned his blonde hair into gold.
The sound of a glass shattering broke the spell. Conversation resumed, albeit in a more subdued tone. On the far side of the room a portly middle-aged man rose from his chair and threaded his way through the crowd.
"M'lord, I was just about to go to the manor to speak to you."
"Outside, Bodkin." Edrington whirled and strode out the door, disappearing as suddenly as he had appeared.
Once outside he did not hesitate to expend a little aristocratic wrath. "I suppose sitting in a tavern drinking ale with witnesses qualifies as 'just about to go to the manor'! Its a damn good thing that Gaines sent a messenger, otherwise I might not have known that a murder had happened for... Oh, I don't know! Two, perhaps three, days? What the devil do you think you're doing here, Bodkin?" His voice was pitched just above a whisper, but the older man shrank back from it all the same. "My father always trusted and respected you, and I kept you on because of that, though it was against my better judgment. I'd hate to be proven right at the cost of seeing a man unjustly hanged!"
Kennedy started at those words. For the first time since they had ridden out it finally sank in. His brother was under a charge for murder. If found guilty he would be hanged. He felt his vision blur and his hands start to shake. His knees felt weak and the only thought in his head was Please God, not a fit. Not here, not now. By some miracle he managed to walk to the water trough at the side of the tavern, and without taking the time to think about he pulled off his hat and plunged his head under. The cool water helped clear his head, and when he blinked the water out of his eyes he saw Hornblower standing at his side, a worried expression on his face.
"Archie, are you all right? You look like you've seen a ghost!"
Kennedy mustered up a wan smile for his friend. "I'm all right. I think it finally hit me."
"Do you think Reg did what they're accusing him of?"
"I don't honestly know." Kennedy took a moment to push his hair off his face, pulling the ribbon loose in the process. He held the scrap of black grosgrain before his eyes. "Damn! I lose more of these blessed things than I can keep track off." He met his friends eyes and sighed. "Reg is completely incoherent. He's not even conscious, and he's likely to remain in that state for some hours to come. So we can't hear his side of the story just yet."
Edrington and William came up then. Looking passed the brothers Kennedy could see Bodkin walking toward the icehouse, his shoulders slumped and dejected.
"I suppose after all of this is over I'll have to see about a new constable." Edrington said. He finally seemed to notice Kennedy's wet and disheveled state. "What happened to you, Archie?"
"A hostile encounter with a water trough. Never mind what happened to me! What did Bodkin have to say? What do the witnesses say?
Edrington looked down at his feet before launching into the tale. "Not very much. And I think calling any of them witnesses is overly optimistic. There were at least eight men involved in the fight, which means at least seven of them could have knifed Chambers. All of them were fairly far into their cups, so not one of them can describe the sequence of events with any accuracy. They seem to be in agreement about one thing, however; Reg was the angriest and had the most reason to want Chambers dead. But I suppose that's just trying to cover their own assets. Why point the finger anywhere else when a man is already under lock and key for the crime?"
"Who exactly is this Chambers?" William asked.
Kennedy spared a glance for the young cavalryman. "I forgot; you've come in in the middle of this whole mess." He took a moment to sketch in the bare facts of the whole story before answering William's question. "Chambers is an old sailor. He served on the Justinian with Horatio and myself."
"Is he a deserter?"
"No." Hornblower answered. "He was discharged for wounds sustained in action against the French frigate Papillon. He was one of the men we managed to rescue after the Justinian sank in that action." Kennedy congratulated himself at not flinching at the mention of that name.
William was still puzzled. "I don't understand. Why would Reg Kennedy have a reason to kill an old salt like Chambers? It doesn't make any sense." He looked at Archie. "Was your brother in the habit of carrying a knife?"
"No. No, he wasn't." His voice gained conviction. He looked at Edrington. "Surely that argues in his favor?"
Edrington did not look hopeful. "Perhaps, but its hardly conclusive. In a melee like what we have here it would have been fairly easy for a man to lay his hands on a knife. He could have pulled it from the belt of one of the other men! Who knows?" He sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. "There's nothing more that can be done until Reg wakes up and can tell us, and Gaines and Bodkin, what he remembers. I'll stay the night at the inn to be close at hand. Archie?"
"Yes. Yes, I'll stay as well." Hornblower was about to speak but Kennedy overrode him. "No, Horatio. You have to go back to the manor. You're supposed to leave tomorrow, remember?" He gave a mirthless laugh. "Not much of a going away celebration, was it?"
Hornblower simply shook his head. "How can I leave in the midst of all this? You asked me to accompany you home to help you, and now, when you really need help, I have to leave." His voice was strained. "I'm sorry, Archie."
"Don't be. You have to obey orders. And we'll talk before the post chaise leaves tomorrow." He clasped Hornblower's hand tightly in his and stared deep into his friend's eyes. "You have helped me, never doubt that. I'll be all right, you'll see."
Edrington gave his bother a message for their mother and his fiancee, and orders to have a change of clothes sent back for both himself and Kennedy. William and Hornblower mounted and rode from the village without looking back.
It was getting on toward midnight by the time they arrived back at Edrington manor, but everyone was still wide awake. Lady Sarah must have heard the front door open, because she came out to the entry hall before William and Hornblower could even take one step toward the drawing room.
"William, what's happening? Where's Hal? And Mr. Kennedy?" she asked, her voice husky with anxiety.
The others had followed her out of the room and formed a circle around the pair. Their faces were drawn with worry and exhaustion. "Its all right. They're staying in the village." He looked toward Annie and Edward and a slight flush rose to his face. He looked guilty as he finished the explanation. "Reg was unconscious by the time we got there, and he won't be able to tell his side of the story for some hours yet. Hal and Kennedy decided to stay the night so they would be close at hand when Reg is able to talk."
"They'll need a change of clothes and fresh linen. I'll see to that." Lady Sarah said and moved briskly to keep her word.
The dowager countess had barely spoken since the first use of the word murder, nearly three hours earlier. Now she stepped into the void of her son's absence. She gestured to include Edward, Annie and the Chamberlains. "Its too late to return to your homes now. You are all welcome to stay here for the night." After everyone had accepted she turned to Hornblower. "My apologies, Lieutenant. This was supposed to be something of a celebration in your honour. I hope you won't return to Portsmouth with any bad feelings."
Hornblower blushed, and bowed before her with his characteristic awkwardness. "Not at all, my lady. I'm only sorry that I was not able to enjoy more time spent in your fascinating company."
Lady Edrington laughed and poked him lightly with her cane. "Get on with you, young man! I'm far to old and experienced to fall for that!"
Lady Sarah came back downstairs. "Everything is set." She glanced at her future mother-in-law. "I anticipated that we would have overnight guests, so the maids are making up the rooms. And I took the liberty, Mr. Hornblower, of arranging to have your things brought here from Rosefield. I hope you don't mind."
"No, not at all." he replied. "It saves me an extra trip on horseback." He gave his posterior a brief pat and flashed a rueful grin. "Horses and I do not exactly get along."