Deliverance: A Justice Belstrang Mystery by John Pilkington (top 10 most read books in the world .TXT) 📗

The door soon opened, and the familiar face of Standish’s servant appeared. At sight of me he blinked in surprise, then put on an apologetic look.

‘The Justice is at dinner, sir,’ he murmured. ‘Though if you care to wait a while, I’ll inform him of your coming.’

‘Do so,’ I said. ‘As for my waiting, I expect there will be no need. Tell him I’m come from the Forest of Dean, on a matter of great importance.’

With raised eyebrows, the servant nodded. Once admitted, I made my way into the wide hallway, stopping before the door to Standish’s private closet: the scene of a number of verbal debacles between him and I. While I waited, I took a moment to try to straighten my appearance. I was painfully aware of how scuffed and bedraggled I appeared, after recent adventures. And yet, why should it matter now? Soon I was scolding myself, and working up a degree of anger in the process. It did not abate as the Justice himself appeared - somewhat soon, to my satisfaction. Indeed, he was still wiping his mouth with a napkin as he came up, before stopping with a frown.

‘We have business, you and I,’ I said shortly. ‘And it will not wait… shall we go in?’

TWENTY

It took less time than I expected to lay the entire matter forth. By the time I had finished Standish was seated behind his cluttered table, gazing downwards. The meeting had begun with the two of us on our feet, but after the truth emerged in all its starkness, he had slumped down heavily.

‘There you have it – Master Justice,’ I said. ‘I suspect you have a very short time to settle your affairs… perhaps only an hour or two. I would advise alacrity.’

He looked up then, and fixed me with a look of bafflement. ‘In God’s name, why do you do this?’ He said at last. ‘You and I are enemies… we’ve been at daggers drawn for years. I cannot divine your purpose.’

‘My purpose?’ I echoed. ‘In truth I haven’t thought on it much, beyond salving my own conscience. I may despise you – and a part of me would like to see you hauled away in irons – yet we go back a long way. As I recall, you were not always such an avaricious man… then, that was before you married.’

I let that hang in the air, whereupon he looked away. A memory flew up, of Dorothy Standish and her foppish companion mocking me in the street, the day that Hester and I went to see the play of Faustus. I confess that it caused me no regret, to think of what might lie ahead for that woman.

‘Good Christ… I must think.’

On a sudden Standish was on his feet, as if the urgency of the situation had only now struck home. An hour or two, I had said: the man’s agitation grew as I watched.

‘I… I know not what to say to you,’ he mumbled. His gaze wandered about the room: along the bookshelves where his fine library rested, to the portrait of his father who had also been a magistrate. I had never thought to pity this man but, thinking on what lay ahead of him, I almost did. At the least, my pent-up anger was gone. Taking up my hat, I turned to go out, then paused.

‘What will you do?’ I asked. ‘Or rather, where will you go?’

‘My son… he has a small estate in Ireland,’ came the answer. ‘Meath… I hear it’s wild and bleak, but…’ he spoke absently, his mind elsewhere. Then he stiffened and looked up sharply. ‘I beg you to forget that. It’s only a notion… I must think.’

‘Perhaps you should,’ I replied.

And I left him: an agitated figure, scarcely knowing which way to turn.

I have said that, to this day, I do not know why I did what I did. I had allowed a man guilty of corruption to evade capture and certain execution. I had also taken revenge, of a sort. But in so doing I had torn off the burr that had chafed me for years, and felt relief. Standish faced an uncertain, nay a desperate future… if indeed he had a future at all.

It would serve. I only hoped that no-one would suspect me of being the one who gave him the chance to take flight.

As I left the house under the uncertain eyes of the servant, a voice floated from the main parlour. Dorothy Standish was still at dinner… what words she would utter when she heard what had to be done, I did not care to think on.

In the street, I paid off my barefoot horse-holder and took up the reins; in her care, Leucippus appeared docile enough. I favoured the child with a smile before getting myself mounted, watched her walk away… and then the weight descended again: the one that had first settled on me that day at Thirldon, when George’s letter had brought such dismay.

A half hour later, as the afternoon drew on, I at last rode through the gates and into the courtyard, where I saw my groom Elkins carrying a bale of hay from the stable. At sight of me he started, then dropped the bale and hurried forward.

‘By heaven, sir,’ he exclaimed. ‘We thought something bad had happened. Mistress Hester got a letter, said you were in some trouble…’

‘I’m perfectly well, Elkins,’ I lied. Dismounting stiffly, I handed him the reins. ‘This fellow needs a good rub down, a meal and a long rest. He’s had some hard usage of late. Will you do your utmost?’

‘I will, sir.’ He grinned cheerfully. Seemingly, I reflected, at least there had been no grim news to trouble the servants… I started for the house, then