Andrew Pepper - The Revenge of Captain Paine

Marguerite’s cheeks were streaked with tears and her breath carried the sour traces of claret. The fact she’d made no effort with her clothes, nor with her blonde hair, which fell untidily to her shoulders, made her seem unusually vulnerable. She had greeted Pyke on the steps of the house and had fallen into his arms, burrowing her head deep into his neck and clinging to him while she sobbed. This had lasted for what seemed like minutes, her whole frame shaking violently. Finally she peeled herself from him and stared up at him through cloudy eyes.

He could taste the salt of her tears on his lips.

They were alone in the drawing room, the same room they had taken tea in just a few days earlier. She walked over to the full-length Venetian window and watched as the afternoon skies darkened and rain began to fall. ‘It’s beautiful here, with this view of the garden.’

Pyke contemplated the view with her. ‘Is it why you persuaded Edward to buy the house?’

Marguerite didn’t answer. Instead she pressed her face right up against the steamy pane and sniffed.

‘You must have known I’d be your neighbour.’ Pyke took a step towards her.

Again Marguerite stared out of the window at the landscaped gardens. He reached out and wiped away a solitary tear that was rolling down her cheek. ‘Edward’s death was ruled as suicide.’

She nodded, as though she’d been expecting it. ‘But you don’t believe he killed himself, do you?’

‘Do you?’

‘In spite of what you might think, Pyke, I loved him. Maybe not..’ She hesitated, fresh tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

‘Maybe not?’ Briefly their eyes met but she looked away first.

‘But I wouldn’t have left him.’

Though Marguerite’s skin was mottled from her tears and her hair was ragged and unkempt, she was still one of the most beautiful women he had ever met.

‘Most people only saw his naturally gregarious side but Eddy was a troubled man in lots of ways.’

‘In what way was he troubled?’

‘What man could possibly live up to the ideals he set himself?’ she said, suddenly angry.

Pyke nodded. ‘I presume Edward left everything to you.’ As far as he knew there hadn’t been any children.

‘After we married, Eddy told me he’d changed his will.’ Marguerite wiped her eyes. ‘We didn’t discuss the matter again.’

‘Have you actually seen his will?’

‘He kept it with his lawyer.’

‘But there will be a copy of it in the house. In a safe perhaps?’

They were standing just a few feet from one another. He could smell her powerful, earthy scent.

‘There’s a safe in Eddy’s study.’

‘If you felt able to, we could have a look.’

This time Marguerite looked up at him. ‘Why are you so interested in the terms of his will?’

Pyke took a breath. ‘Did Edward mention that on the day he died he borrowed a large sum of money?’

‘From you?’

‘The bank.’

‘How much?’

Pyke shrugged.

Something changed in her expression. ‘And that’s why you’re here? To check on your investment?’

‘He walked out of our offices with a lot of money in a satchel. If it was stolen, it might begin to explain his state of mind.’

She nodded but didn’t speak for a few moments. ‘When I saw a carriage coming up the drive, I hoped it might be you. For some reason, yours was the shoulder I wanted to cry on.’

‘I’m sorry for my intrusion. I shouldn’t have come.’

‘Eddy’s barely been dead for a day and already vultures are circling above his carcass. I didn’t think you’d be one of them.’

Pyke could see the heat in her cheeks. ‘In spite of what you might think, I liked him and if someone did kill him, then I’ll find them.’

‘And then?’

‘Of all people, Maggie, you know what I am.’ He looked into her eyes. ‘And what I do.’

That evening at Hambledon, Pyke went to check on Milly after dinner. According to Jo, she still hadn’t eaten anything or spoken a word and had spurned all efforts to lure her out of the room.

Pyke closed the door behind him and set his lantern down on the table next to her bed. She was sitting across the bed, her back leaning against the wall, staring blankly out of the small window.

‘Milly?’

She didn’t look at him or even acknowledge his presence.

Tentatively Pyke perched himself at the end of the bed, but still she didn’t look at him. ‘Milly, I want to help you. I want to find the people who hurt your parents but to do that, I’ll need your help.’

Ignoring him, the little girl started to hum.

‘Can I bring you some food? Or something to drink perhaps? Lemonade? Ginger beer?’ As he said it, he wondered whether she’d ever tasted lemonade or ginger beer.

Gingerly Pyke reached out to touch her, if only to disturb her from her torpor, but she flinched and shuffled to the very far end of the bed, still humming quietly to herself.

In the neighbouring room, he noticed that Felix was still awake and went in to see him.

‘Why won’t that girl say anything?’ Felix asked, sitting up in his bed.

‘She’s still frightened. She saw some bad things, things no child should be forced to witness.’

‘What kind of things?’

Pyke reached down and touched his son’s forehead. ‘Nothing that need worry you, my boy.’ He knelt down beside the bed. ‘But I want you to be especially nice to her. Can you do that for me?’

‘I already asked if she wanted to play with my toys,’ Felix said, indignantly, as though Pyke had accused him of something he hadn’t done.

‘That’s very good, Felix, but you need to persevere. Talk to her. Try and get her to talk to you. We need to make her feel welcome.’

‘What should I talk to her about?’

‘Her name, what she likes to do, her parents…’

Felix screwed up his face. ‘Why’s she staying with us? Where are her parents?’

Pyke kissed him on the head and stood up. ‘It’s time to go to sleep now.’

‘Father?’

From the doorway, Pyke looked around and said, ‘What is it, Felix?’

‘She scares me. The way she looks at me…’

Pyke put down the lantern and returned to Felix’s bedside. ‘We all need to learn how to overcome our fears.’

Felix stared up at him, wide eyed. ‘What are you afraid of, Father?’

Losing you, Pyke thought, as he asked whether Felix wanted the lantern to be left in the room.

‘We can’t have her stay with us indefinitely,’ Emily said, as they sat across from one another in the drawing room.

She had returned from the Midlands that afternoon sporting a large bruise on her forehead, the product of a violent scuffle that had broken out at the meeting she had been addressing, but when Pyke started to claim that she shouldn’t be attending such events, if her safety was at risk, she turned away from him and refused to discuss the matter further.

‘What other choice did I have? Her parents were murdered. Their throats had been cut. I saw them with my own eyes. Their blood is probably still on my boots.’ Pyke tried to swallow but his throat felt dry and scratchy.

‘Then you need to get the police involved. Have you even contacted the police?’

‘Did you contact the police over the fight that’s left you scarred and bruised?’

‘It was nothing. More an accident, really.’ But she wouldn’t meet his stare.

‘I went back to the home with the police the following day. The bodies had been removed.’

That got Emily’s attention. ‘By whom?’ When Pyke shrugged, she asked, ‘What were you doing there in the first place?’

‘I was trying to find their daughter — Milly’s sister — as a favour for Godfrey.’