Horses, carriages, bicycles, and motorcars crammed the High Street, and it took Samuel more than twenty minutes to get from one end to the other. It was precious time wasted, and Cecily fretted as they continued on, once more leaving the hustle and bustle of the town behind.
Rattling down the country road, Cecily peered out at the dripping trees and soaked hedges. A late afternoon mist was rolling in from the ocean, shrouding from view everything beyond a few feet. As they turned the bend, however, she caught sight of a faint light gleaming through the fog. They were almost there.
The carriage slowed, rumbling into the courtyard of the George and Dragon and coming to a halt in front of the rear door. It was not yet opening time and Cecily hoped to catch Bernard McPherson, the owner of the public house, before he went into the bar to prepare for the evening.
Samuel opened the door of the carriage and peeked in. “Would you want me to knock and announce that you have come to visit, m’m?”
“Thank you, Samuel, but I’ll do my own announcing.” She held out her hand and Samuel assisted her to the ground. “Come with me,” she ordered, “I would like you to accompany me while I talk to Mr. McPherson.” Raising her skirts, she crossed over the puddles to the door.
It opened almost immediately, and the surprised face of Bernard McPherson appeared in the doorway. “ ’Pon my soul, it’s Mrs. Baxter!” A grin spread over his gaunt face. “To what do I owe this honor?”
“I was hoping to have a word with you.” She smiled up at him. Most of the publicans she had met were robust, stout fellows with enormous girth and sagging jowls. Bernard on the other hand was quite scrawny, though nonetheless a jolly gentleman with always a kind word or a joke for his customers.
“Of course. Come in!” He opened the door wide and stood back to let them pass. “The missus is down the village visiting our daughter, but she should be back soon.”
He led the way into the parlor and beckoned them to sit. “Can I get you a wee drop of brandy, Mrs. Baxter? It’s a mite chilly out there.”
She shook her head. “Not for me, thank you.”
“The young man, then?”
Samuel glanced at her for permission, which she gave with a nod of her head.
“Good.” Bernard crossed to the door. “I’ll be back in a jiff.”
No sooner had the door closed behind him, than Samuel leaned forward and said in a low voice, “Begging your pardon, m’m, but does Mr. Baxter know we are here?”
Cecily looked at him. “I really don’t see why that should concern you, Samuel.”
“No, m’m.” He was quiet for a moment, then added a little desperately, “It’s just that if he doesn’t know, and if he should happen to find out somehow, he’s going to get really cross with me for bringing you down here.”
Cecily raised her eyebrows. “You were simply following orders.”
“Yes, m’m.” Again a pause. “I take it he doesn’t know then.”
Cecily sighed. “Really, Samuel, you do like to borrow trouble, don’t you. I’m here to ask a few questions, that is all. It’s not as if I were in the public bar, knocking back a pint or two, now is it.”
Her stable manager’s face registered shock. “I should hope not, m’m.”
“Well, then, I fail to see why you think Mr. Baxter would not approve.”
“Yes, m’m.” Yet another pause. “Perhaps it would have been better to tell him in that case.”
Cecily gave him a stern look. “That is my business, Samuel.”
“Yes, m’m.”
She was relieved when Bernard chose that moment to return with a tray bearing a bottle of brandy and three glasses. “Just in case you change your mind, Mrs. Baxter,” he said cheerfully as he set the tray down on a small table.
Glancing at the golden liquid gleaming in the bottle, Cecily imagined it sliding down her throat and warming her tummy. “Well, perhaps a tiny drop, then.”
“Ah! I thought you might. Nothing like a wee drop of the good stuff to warm the cockles, right?” Smiling, Bernard poured a generous amount in the three glasses and handed one to her. Motioning Samuel to take his, the publican picked up his own glass and sat down. “Now then, Mrs. Baxter, what can I do for you?”
Cecily took a cautious sip of the brandy, then winced as it stung her throat. “I wanted to ask you a few questions about the fight in your pub the other night,” she said, her voice sounding a little hoarse.
“Ah.” Bernard nodded. “I thought this was more than just a friendly visit.” He narrowed his gaze. “Does this have anything to do with the chap who recently died on the grounds of the Pennyfoot?”
Cecily exchanged a worried glance with Samuel. Apparently the news had now spread all over town. Avoiding his question, she said carefully, “Did you actually see the fight?”
Bernard shook his head. “No, m’m, I didn’t. I was behind the bar. I heard the commotion, though, and some of my customers told me that a couple of blokes were bashing each other outside in the yard.”
“So you don’t know how it ended up?”
“I didn’t see either of the chaps that were fighting come in the pub after that, so I reckon one got the better of the other and they both took off.”
Cecily took another sip of brandy. This one went down more smoothly, and gave her a pleasant, warm sensation as it slid down to her stomach.
“There was a woman came in looking for one of them. By that time they’d left, though.” Bernard downed his brandy in one gulp and smacked his lips. “Good drop of stuff, that.”
“Did you speak to her?”
“Aye, I did. She came up to the bar. I was a bit surprised, since it was the public bar and this woman was a lady. Not the kind you usually see in the public bar. Things got a bit quiet when she walked in, I can tell you.”
“Did she talk to anyone else while she was here?”
Bernard looked surprised. “No, she didn’t. She asked if I’d seen her husband. When she described him one of the customers mentioned he’d seen a bloke like that fighting out in the courtyard. She just turned around and left without another word.”
Cecily put down her glass before she was tempted to take another sip. “And you are quite sure she spoke to no one else outside?”
“As sure as I can be. I heard a horse taking off right after she went out the door, and I saw her go past the window. She didn’t have time to talk to anyone else.” He gave her a look full of speculation. “Does that help at all?”
“Perhaps. Thank you, Mr. McPherson.” Cecily tilted her head at Samuel. “I appreciate your time. I’m afraid we must leave now. I have some shopping to do before the shops close, and the traffic in the High Street is dreadful.”
Bernard jumped to his feet. “You can’t stay to see the missus? She’ll be disappointed to have missed you.”
“Please give her my apologies. Perhaps the two of you can stop by the Pennyfoot over Christmas and sample some of Mrs. Chubb’s baking. Her mince pies are legendary.”
“I’m sure they are, m’m. We’d like that very much.”
“Good.” Cecily rose to her feet. “Come along, Samuel. We must be off.”
“How are those two sons of yours?” Bernard asked, as he led them to the door.
Cecily smiled. “They are both very well, thank you.”
Bernard nodded. “I often think of your Michael. Those new pumps he put in when he was the publican here are the most efficient I’ve ever seen.”
“Michael loved this place.” Cecily paused, waiting for Bernard to open the door. “I think he still misses it.”
“He’s happy, though, right?”
Cecily laughed. “I believe so. He’s not very good at writing letters, I’m afraid.”
“Ah, men usually leave that sort of thing to the women. I canna blame him too much.” He opened the door and Cecily stepped out into the rain.
“Thank you for the brandy, sir,” Samuel said, touching his forehead with his fingers.
“You are most welcome, laddie.” Bernard smiled at Cecily. “Take care on the way back. The fog is getting thick.”
He was right, Cecily realized, as she settled herself on the leather seat. The dense mist seemed to wrap itself around the horse and carriage, enfolding everything in moist arms.
