"Oh God, I hope they find him soon," she said. "If the other doxy's teeth aren't pushed in quick, I'll end up with gums as hard as yours are, Dot. Oh pshaa, bring me some brandy to wash this taste away."
By the arrangement, Marcus Dennett was due to be back at the house that night or next morning to collect his second thirty pounds. Despite the condition of Milady was the darkest household secret, no one expected him to come, because household secrets had a way of getting out. In theory Dennett would bring back the other young maid if the first teeth had not taken, but village men who knew him knew he had lost the black-haired beauty (to their disappointment, as they all had hoped to buy some time on top of her), while his attempts at seducing a slow-wit milking girl two miles away to provide a substitute had been rebuffed by her three brothers, who (anyone could have told him if he'd asked) used her themselves.
Quite usually for a man who had failed to make a fortune many times, though, Dennett was an optimist, and rather stupider than he should have been. With Deb gone he should have known his chances of replacement teeth were drastically curtailed, while his lack of experience as a tooth-replacer should have made him at least more wary of expecting simple success. Within four days his drinking friends started the rumours of something going wrong, and Dennett disregarded them as based on jealousy. On the fifth night it was reported by a thatcher who was seducing Sue, Milady's dressing maid, that 'the mistress had a gob smell like a charnel house', but he would not concede a worry. In two days' time, he said, he would prove them wrong, and pick up his money into the bargain. He did not say how much, in case they robbed him in the woods. But everybody roughly knew, from Dot, and Sue and Joan.
One thing Dennett did not lack was courage, for he was a fiery, peppy little man. But he awoke before dawn on the sixth morning, lying on his pallet in his wagon in the woods, in something of a cold sweat. The rain was lashing at the canvas, and his straw and clothes were wet, and he sorely felt the lack of a young woman at his side, both as a comfort and to earn. He still had cash in plenty from the first half of the teeth transaction, but if the gossip over Mistress Wimbarton was right, what would the likely outcome be? Deborah was gone, the dim-wit milker had almost cost him a broken head or worse, and rumour had him marked down as a failure, not a rake. If he cut off this very morning it would cost him thirty pounds, but he could go to pastures new, where he would find more girls to seduce, or prostitute, or spirit to the Colonies; or even sell their teeth. Too late for corpse-breath Wimbarton, but that was her bad chance the cash would still accrue. Ah he would not lose all the thirty either, for he owed more than four from cards and dice, which if he cut he need not ever pay. Some of the local men were hard with it, but they would not follow far, they would not waste their time. The most he owed to any one was thirteen shillings.
No sooner thought than done, for Dennett knew he was at a disadvantage in the running stakes. The wagon was the main problem, for it was slow and obvious. Even if he took the posters off it, even the canvas cover, people would see him for a traveller, a seller, quack, musician or a mountebank, but if he left it and just took the nag, he gave up his home, his bed, and all his trade trickery.
More, when he captured a new young woman or two, even a young lad (some customers were not fussy), he would have got shut of his rolling whorehouse. He cooked up some water for his coffee, kicked out the fire, ate some bread, but did not tarry long over his thinking. It was early, he knew the back roads well (that was a special skill he always exercised), and in twenty-four hours or thirty-six, when the magistrate began to wonder at his absence, he would be far away. He had a mind for heading west, Aldershot, Basingstoke, Andover maybe. He ran not from fear, but from intelligence. He liked that in himself. He much approved.
Unknown to him, seven hours later, Mr. Chester Wimbarton unleashed his human dogs. At first it was only Jeremiah who was sent to make reconnaissance by horseback, but he returned within the hour to set up a company. Jeremiah was entitled steward on the estate, a name that fitted ill with his history and when. His master, as a magistrate, had tried him once and might have hanged him if he had wished so. But he recognised in the lean and craggy highway robber alleged! the sort of fellow he could buy protection from, and loyalty as well quite possibly. Instead of hanging him he had struck a quiet deal beneath the court, and the man had walked free from there and, discreetly three weeks later, into service. He ran a gang of ruffians of his own choice as stable men and household guards, whose reputation alone ensured the Wimbarton estate was not plagued, as some were locally, by livestock theft and burglary.
Dennett, to give him his due, had chosen empty roads, avoided settlements however small, and travelled fast. The Portsmouth-London road was busy, so it was established quickly that he had not been seen thereon, unless he had abandoned his cart, which Jeremiah deemed unlikely, knowing as he did the breed that travelled as naturally as they breathed. He then sent scouts down every likely by-road, and himself made a wide circle with the quack's last-known camp its centre, crossing all the roads and tracks, checking passengers, and shepherd boys, and houses, huts or hovels on every one. His best assistant, Fiske, who was a fast and skilful rider, was the co-ordinator, bringing him the latest informations at predetermined rendezvous. The master had offered threats for failure, which Jeremiah had curled his lip at. Success meant gold, and both he and Wimbarton expected him to gain it.
In his wagon, next morning, Dennett was awoken by the nervous stamping of his horse. The trees were hissing in the wind, and rain spattered unevenly on the cover, but it was the horse's unaccustomed movement that disturbed him. For a moment he was content to listen, then remembered the situation he was in. After his experience with the two young men who'd stolen Deb and Cecily he had dug out his heavy pistol with a bell-shaped end for scattering loose shot, and he dragged it from underneath a tarry cloth in case. He tried to open the end of his cover with one hand, then put the gun down to jerk the sides apart. As he emerged, head bent inside to see his pistol, two strong hands gripped each of his upper arms, jerking him bodily out of the wagon and landing him upright between the shafts on the soggy ground. He had no boots on, although fully dressed, and the mud forced up between his toes unpleasantly. Beyond the two who had dragged him out there was a tall man on a horse, a man he'd seen at Wimbarton's before. Dennett sighed.
"I was on my way to your master's house this very day," he said. "He owes me thirty pound. "Tis good of you to come to guide me, Jeremiah. How fares it with Milady?"
"Hah!" said Jeremiah. He almost smiled. "Very well, except she has no teeth. Aye, very well!"
You're capable of killing me, thought Dennett. Quite capable. Ah well.
At first, when the horsemen had arrived, Will Bentley had had a rush of wild relief. There were eight of them, and they had the look of a militia or a local watch. Best of all, the man who led them was attired as a gentleman, with the authoritative air of a justice or a wealthy landowner. The two midshipmen had moved to just outside the open door, which Will covered with their only pistol to forestall a rush attack. The gentleman was not armed, but his outriders had swords and pistols. William lowered his gun ostentatiously.
"Well met!" said Holt, as they reined in. "We are the Impress Service, sir, our tender's lying off. We have caught a crew of villains here."