Andrew Pepper - Bloody Winter

‘It turned up last Thursday morning. William was kidnapped on the Monday.’ Jonah removed another envelope from his pocket and gave it to Pyke. ‘This one came yesterday.’

Pyke inspected the envelope — Jonah Hancock’s name was scribbled in black ink. The first thing he noticed was that the handwriting was different. ‘So who delivered the letters?’

‘Someone shoved the first one under the door in the middle of the night. One of the servants found it in the morning.’

‘And this one?’ Pyke held up the second envelope.

‘After the first letter, we had men patrolling the grounds morning, noon and night,’ Zephaniah said. ‘A furnace-man was approached in a tavern in the town and offered a shilling to deliver a letter to the Castle. One of our agents questioned him thoroughly. We don’t believe he was involved.’

Pyke slid the second letter from its envelope. He realised straight away that it wasn’t simply the penmanship that was different.

Notice. The Bull is riding every night and he will catch up with you if you do not pay. Take one hundred in coin to the old Quarry near Anderson’s farm. Leave it in the stone cottage on the Anderson’s farm road. Do it on Thursday at ten in the morning. Just one man. Do not have the cottage watched. This is to make sure you know how to follow orders. The Bull wants twenty thousand in due course. Do as we say and await our instructions or the boy dies.

‘It’s not written by the same person.’ Pyke handed the letter back to Jonah Hancock.

‘I can see that.’

‘I mean, it’s not even written by the same class of man. The grammar is different for a start. This one was penned by an educated man trying to pass himself off as uneducated. Look at the differences. ‘‘The Bool is on rode’’ and ‘‘the Bull is riding’’. It’s obvious.’ As Pyke spoke, he could feel Zephaniah’s eyes on him.

‘What are you suggesting, sir?’ the older man croaked.

‘Who else knows that your grandson has been kidnapped?’

‘We’ve tried to keep the news of what’s happened to our immediate circle but inevitably people gossip. The servants are loyal and have been sworn to secrecy, but Catherine went and informed the constabulary so now every damned bobby in the town knows about it.’

Again Pyke wondered about the veiled animosity between the Hancock family and the chief magistrate.

Jonah was pacing around the floor. ‘If this second letter was written by a different hand — perhaps even someone not connected with the kidnapping — why demand a paltry sum like a hundred pounds? Especially when the ransom has been set at twenty thousand?’

‘I don’t know. If the letters are from different people in the same gang, perhaps this is some kind of dress rehearsal, to see if you can be trusted.’

‘And if they’re from different gangs?’

‘Then perhaps someone else has heard about the kidnapping and is attempting to turn this information to their advantage.’

Zephaniah eyed Pyke carefully from the armchair. ‘So what do you recommend we do, Detective-inspector?’

‘That depends on whether you’ve decided to pay the ransom or not.’

‘Of course we’ve decided to pay,’ Jonah said impatiently.

Zephaniah’s tone was more conciliatory. ‘The important thing is to get the boy back here where he belongs. Maybe, sir, you could be persuaded to take the hundred pounds out to the old quarry?’

Momentarily distracted by the sound of footsteps in the room directly above them, Pyke nodded without realising what he had agreed to.

‘I’m still going to need to talk to your driver… and your wife.’

‘I’ll have someone fetch the driver. You might also want to find and question the boy’s former nursemaid. Maggie Atkins. She left this household under a cloud.’

‘What kind of a cloud?’

‘We caught her stealing. In the end, we chose not to involve the police; we didn’t want to make a scene. She always denied it, and was bitter about her dismissal.’

‘Bitter enough to take matters into her own hands?’

‘I just thought I’d mention it, Detective-inspector. I’ll have one of the servants look out her address.’

Pyke glanced at Zephaniah and then let his gaze return to Jonah Hancock. ‘It would be more helpful if you could summon your wife.’

Their eyes locked. Jonah licked his lips. ‘I’m surprised she hasn’t come down from her room to greet you.’

‘Perhaps you would be so kind as to bring her down?’

The younger Hancock pondered this request then left the room. Pyke and Zephaniah Hancock stared uneasily at one another.

‘Tell me, sir,’ the older man said. ‘Did you come up here directly from the railway station or did you perhaps call in on the station-house on your way?’

‘The latter. I had a very brief chat with Superintendent Jones and Sir Clancy Smyth.’

The old man assimilated this news without reacting. ‘In which case, I don’t imagine you’ve formed a favourable impression of my family.’ When Pyke didn’t respond immediately, he smiled. ‘Be that as it may, Jonah loves his son and there is nothing he — nothing we — won’t do to ensure his safe return.’

None of the stories Pyke had heard about Zephaniah had portrayed him as a devoted family man. ‘Do you have any other children or grandchildren?’

‘I do have another son, but alas I see him very infrequently. He takes care of my family’s ancestral home in Hampshire.’

‘And is William your only grandchild?’

Zephaniah gave him a puzzled stare. ‘My other son, Richard, has two children.’ Then he seemed to relax and added, ‘Look, I won’t pretend I’m sentimentally attached to William, or children in general, but it doesn’t mean I’m not concerned for his well-being. And William is the firstborn of the firstborn. Is it so wrong to want to see one’s family name survive long after one’s death?’

Before Pyke could answer, there were footsteps in the hallway. Jonah entered the room, closely followed by Cathy.

Seeing her for the first time in five years was both exciting and a disappointment. It was undoubtedly true that she had blossomed into a beautiful woman; her slender figure, pronounced cheekbones, ash-blonde hair and slim, pretty face were all reminders of the adolescent Pyke had once known. Nonetheless he saw straight away that the naivety and innocence he’d once associated with her had been replaced by an unfamiliar reserve. Before him was a woman whose expression was like the hard surface of a mirror: she smiled politely and held out her hand for him to shake. Drawn into her ambit, he smelled the sourness of claret on her breath as he tried in vain to find even the smallest flicker of warmth in her eyes. As he took her outstretched hand, she swayed towards him, whispering, ‘You shouldn’t have come.’

While Pyke tried to work out what she had meant, Cathy went over to join her husband. She was wearing a carefully brocaded white lace dress with puffed sleeves and a crinoline skirt. He noticed that Zephaniah had been watching their encounter.

‘My wife will answer any questions you have tomorrow, Detective-inspector.’ Jonah reached out and gently squeezed her hand. ‘She is feeling a little tired, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to escort her up to her bed.’

They didn’t want, and didn’t wait for, Pyke’s sanction. He expected Cathy to look up at him on her way out but she swept by without acknowledgement.

‘Don’t take it personally, Detective-inspector,’ Zephaniah said, grinning, after they had left the room. ‘I do hope you’ll stay here with us, sir,’ he added, full of bonhomie. ‘I’m afraid the accommodation in town is universally dreadful. It would be nice to have a man’s company for a change.’