Don Gutteridge - Desperate Acts

Nestor couldn’t quite follow the logic ofthis remark, but he was so relieved that Duggan was not about to doanything rash in the way of petty revenge that he relaxed visiblyand took another gulp of hooch.

“In The Blue Ox yesterday some fella told meyou were the best snitch in Cobb’s stable,” Duggan said after theyhad consumed several more draughts. “And that’s not the first timeI’ve heard it!”

Nestor grinned, exposing his gums and asingle, blackened tooth. “You bet I am. That Itchy Quick goesaround braggin’ about how great he is, but that kindaboastin’ can get a fella’s legs broken. I still got both kneesworkin’ ‘cause I know when to talk and when to shut up.”

Duggan made as if to drink, paused, and saidquietly, “You happen to see Cobb in The Cock and Bull tonight?”

Nestor blinked several times, a sure signthat he was preparing to lie. “No, I didn’t.”

“Hadn’t got anything new to tell him, eh?”Duggan said in what he took to be a light, teasing tone.

Nestor bridled. “I always got somethin’ totell him. But there’s things I know I don’t tell to nobody. I knowright from wrong.”

Duggan grinned. He was recalling a similarscene as far back as September, when he had coaxed Nestor into astate of near-inebriation and taunted him in the very same way . ..

“So, cousin, you’re forever bragging aboutthe dozens of secrets you’ve dug up on your own, but you don’t eversay why I ought to believe you,” he had said then, pretending totake a great swig of liquor, as he had done this evening.

Nestor, never overly astute even when sober,had taken the bait. “Think I just make things up, don’t ya?”

Duggan had become instantly conciliatory.“I’m your cousin , Nestor – the guy who’s goin’ to share hislegacy with you and haul you out of this shack and get you what youdeserve.” Duggan’s words appeared to be somewhat slurred by thewhiskey, but no liquor could dull the man’s cunning.

“That’s true,” Nestor sniffed. “You’re theonly livin’ relalive I’ve got in the whole wide world.”

“So, if you’ve got onto something juicy, yououghta be able to tell your sole, living blood relation,right?”

Nestor had smirked, a look he had fewoccasions to exercise. “Itchy Quick told me this in his cupsyesterday. He was up at that Oakwood place burnin’ some stumps ferthat fat English lordy-dah – this was back in the summer – an’ heseen the Lady What’s-her-name in the flower bed with her legsspread an’ one of our local gents pumpin’ away between ‘em.”

“Nice an’ juicy,” Duggan had agreed with anappreciative smile that warmed Nestor more than the whiskey had.“But hardly news any peeler would pay for.”

“Ya never know. That’s my point. It’s the oddbits an’ pieces you gotta keep collectin’ – till they turn out tobe useful, to somebody.”

Duggan had nodded sagely. “Did this Itchyfella happen to mention who the local gentleman was?”

“He did. But that’s one name I’m keepin’under my hat,” Nestor had said almost primly. “I ain’t in thehome-wreckin’ business, am I?”

“Of course you aren’t. Here, you might aswell finish off the booze.”

Nestor drank, and a mellow feeling offellowship and good will coursed slowly through him, rendering himwonderfully drowsy. But before he had fallen asleep upon his armsat the table, Albert Duggan had wheedled out of him the name of thenaughty local gentleman . . .

That little tidbit had been dropped inDuggan’s lap more than a month ago, and he didn’t see why tonightshould not prove just as productive.

Marc Edwards was as busy as he had ever been in hislife, and twice as happy. Another strategy meeting was slated forFriday afternoon out at Spadina, the country home of the Baldwins.Marc was charged with fleshing out some of the arguments raised atthe earlier meeting in a form suitable for various letters to thenewspapers, ones that could be assigned to sundry sympathizers(suitably reworked, he hoped, to reflect the submitter’s own styleand views on the union question). At the same time, Beth’sannouncement of her pregnancy compelled them to sit down andseriously discuss the expansion of Briar Cottage. They would need alot more room, that much was certain. They had the money to dowhatever they wished: Marc had an income from his adoptive father’sestate in England, Beth had inherited money and property from herformer father-in-law, Joshua Smallman, and her ladies shop anddressmaking operation were thriving. But they liked the cosiness ofBriar Cottage enough to dismiss any thought of building a grandioseresidence farther up Sherbourne on one of the park-lots there. So,while one or the other used a spare toe to rock Maggie in herwooden cradle, Beth and Marc sat at the kitchen table and drewsketches – verbal and otherwise – of an addition to the rear of thecottage.

Nothing could be done until spring, but oncethe decision to build had been made, it was impossible to pretendthat they could postpone the pleasures and anxieties of planningand replanning. Their servant, Charlene, and her beau, Jasper Hogg,were equally excited. Jasper was a talented carpenter and all-roundbuilder, but he worked intermittently and not often enough to feelcomfortable proposing to Charlene. When Marc suggested that Jasperbe engaged to do the lion’s share of the construction, usingwhatever assistance he deemed necessary, the couple wereunderstandably ecstatic. And more helpful than was absolutelynecessary. Marc was not unhappy that he was often “called away” toattend the fall sessions of the Court of Queen’s Bench in order toobserve the several trials going on there and learn as much as hecould about procedures in that august chamber – in the event thatBaldwin and Sullivan called upon him to represent them in acriminal proceeding. Both Robert and his partner were too involvedin politics to take on serious cases, and Marc figured it would besooner than later when the call came for his services.

How soon and in what guise he could not haveforeseen.

***

About three o’clock on a crisp Friday afternoon,with the taste of imminent snow on the breeze, Governor PoulettThomson and two of his military aides cantered up the forested lanefrom Government House onto King Street. While such a demi-royalentourage did turn a head or two, no particular importance wasattached to the movement of the mounted trio, as His Excellency wasoften seen riding out into the countryside to take the air andexercise the expensive horse provided him. On this occasion, theGovernor and his outriders swung north on Brock Street and followedit up to the city boundary at Lot Street (soon to be renamed Queenin honour of the young sovereign). Here it branched off in threedirections, offering the prospect of more than one pleasant ridethrough parkland and forest. His Excellency opted for Spadina Road,a winding north-westerly pathway that brought him eventually to thegates of a splendid country residence. The Governor dismountedbefore an excited groom could reach him and steady the horse’sbridle. A tall and impeccably attired figure, accustomed todeference but not disarmed by it, Poulett Thomson strode to thefront door just as it opened to reveal, not a fawning butler, butthe equally imposing figure of Dr. William Warren Baldwin.

The Governor was whisked off to the library,where half a dozen Durhamites eagerly awaited him. The grandstrategy to win over the Legislative Council and the LegislativeAssembly of Upper Canada to the cause of political union was aboutto be set in motion.

***

Diana Ramsay was given every Saturday afternoon off.Since last May, almost every such afternoon had been spent in thecompany of Brodie Langford. Today, as usual, they strolled down tothe bay and took in the fine view offered by the blue water and theisland-spit with the last of its foliage still aflame in thesewaning weeks of autumn. After which they ambled up to the Market toenjoy the hustle and bustle of its Saturday doings. Brodie wasproud of himself for carrying out their customary promenade withoutonce giving Diana the slightest hint of the anxiety he was feelingover the blackmail note.