The Redemption of Sir Edward Denham - A Return to Sanditon Novella

Thirteen

Berwick House, Mount Row, Mayfair

Jack Hargreaves, Marquess of Berwick, was the most contented soul who ever lived, he decided. Curled up beside him was the very reason for his good fortunes. Louisa, now the Marchioness of Berwick, was as beautiful as she was dear. Her smile was enough to make a grown man spout sonnets or fight battles to protect her. And she was his. The road to wedded bliss had been rocky, but at this precise moment, there was nothing that could spoil his sense of new-found contentment. Or, so he had thought.

A knock sounded at the door to the library, where he and Louisa were enjoying some time alone. His butler, Swinton, had instructions not to interrupt unless the house was on fire, so he assumed that either his loyal servant was in want of early retirement or there was indeed a crisis to avert.

As Kit was announced into their company, Jack frowned and cast a scowl of disapproval at Swinton, before standing to greet his employee.

"My most humble apologies, My Lord, but this arrived, and I fear it requires your immediate attention." Kit handed a letter to his superior and waited.

Louisa rose from the sofa and with a smile, excused herself to allow the gentlemen to discuss their business in private. As she left the room, she cast a teasing grin at Jack that made him wish his occupation to the devil.

Frustrated, he returned his attention reluctantly to the note that he held and quickly perused the contents.

"Bloody, blasted hell. What does the man think he's doing? He's not trained for covert work!" He exclaimed in annoyance.

"If I may, Sir. He does sound like he knows what he's about. Perhaps he will be able to find us a lead to follow? These reformists have been deuced difficult to track until now," Kit offered in appeasement.

Jack thought for a moment, "Aye. Perhaps you're right, Ellis. He's made it this far, but he says here that he has information for me that will aid our case. He's been working with Carlisle. Sam wouldn't have entrusted him with vital intelligence if he did not trust the man." Walking to the sideboard, Jack poured himself a splash of whiskey. "We have, what, two days to get to Folkestone before this shipment arrives?"

"Yes, My Lord. It will take just over a day's travel without stops to get there on horseback. By carriage, closer to two." Agreed Kit.

"Right." Jack reluctantly nodded. Walking over to the bell-pull, he summoned Swinton. "Arrange to have my horse readied and tell my valet to pack a bag for several days travel. We shall be leaving within the hour." He turned to Kit. "Can you be readied in time?"

Kit nodded. "I will swing by my lodgings and return before you know it." He bowed and left the room.

"Goddammit!" Growled Jack. How am I going to tell Louisa? He thought.

The outskirts of Folkestone

A day and a half later, Jack and Kit rode into Folkestone. Tired and bad-tempered, they made their way to the inn mentioned in Denham's letter; The Jolly Sailor. Leaving Kit to tend to their mounts, Jack strolled into the bustling establishment. Experienced at concealing his identity, he made his way to the public bar in search of the innkeeper. Roughening his voice and exaggerating his Scots brogue, he enquired about rooms. As he completed his business and purchased two mugs of ale, a man caught his attention. Tall, with blonde wavy hair, the fellow carried himself like a gentleman despite his attire. He had stood up from one of the tables and was making his way to the rear of the inn, in the direction of the stairs.

Picking up the drinks, Jack made his way carefully in the same direction as the blonde-haired fellow. Having never met Denham, all Jack had to go on was a description provided by Babington and his instinct that this was their man. As he approached the stairwell, Jack noted that the hallway was empty. He alighted the first set of stairs and turned the corner to find that Denham was stood at the door to one of the rooms.

Lifting his head as he noted the arrival of his pursuer - the same stranger that had arrested his attention just now in the common room - Edward paused for a moment before speaking. "I hear Berwick is a nice place to visit at this time of year. Are you acquainted with the place?" his voice was even and carried only enough to ensure the man heard.

"Aye, I know it well. Tends to flood in the autumn but we've been lucky with the rivers, so far." The man replied in a barely discernible Scottish accent.

The public-school tones were still there but diluted. This was no traveller, thought Edward. Hedging his bets, he continued. "And Carlisle, would that be familiar too?"

After another pause, the man sighed and replied. "Denham. I got your note. This had better be worth interrupting my honeymoon for."

Edward nodded and tipped his head towards the now open chamber, motioning the gentleman, Hargreaves at a guess, inside.

Jack moved forward a few steps, but before he could enter the room, the sound of footfalls echoed on the stairs. Holding his breath for a moment, he waited, before exhaling as Kit rounded the corner. He inclined his head to Denham and advised, "This is Christopher Ellis, Kit, he is my associate."

Denham continued into the room, leaving the door ajar, as Jack and Kit followed. Closing the door behind them, he offered his hand. "I am Hargreaves. Your note said that you had tracked the shipment. Is that correct?"

Denham smiled ruefully, "Straight to business then, is it." Pulling up a wooden chair, he sat and regarded the two men. Shabby greatcoats and buckskin breeches were generic enough, but those boots hailed from Hoby's, or he wasn't an Englishman. "To answer your question, yes. I have some papers to give you, and I was fortunate enough to overhear a conversation on my arrival concerning a certain shipment."

The younger man Kit, who looked no more than five and twenty at a guess, spoke for the first time. "Have you news of when it will arrive? Your note said it would be travelling down the Thames to the docks?"

"Indeed. I have been playing cards this evening with two boatmen who are expecting an unidentified shipment to dock tomorrow morning. By the time it has been offloaded and transported from the docks to the riverboat, it should be early evening. The boatmen mentioned that the goods would be delivered to a warehouse in Wapping." Edward stood and rifled through his belongings, pulling out a journal. "Carlisle bade me put this in your hands, Hargreaves. I hope it gives you something to go on."

A short time later, Jack had read the contents of the journal and noted the bills of sale for black powder. It was looking grim indeed. From this collection of notes he was able to piece together the outline of the scheme and at its heart was an explosion of some sort, designed to create disruption to those members of parliament who opposed the reform movement. Chiefly amongst those, was the Prime Minister and his cabinet.

It seemed diabolical that the reformists would plan to attack such a prestigious event as the opening ball of the season. The Duchess of Richmond was an exemplary hostess, and only those of the upper echelons of society could be expected to attend her event. Her husband was a prominent figure in the Tory party, and it would be disastrous if such an attack were successful.

Thanks to Carlisle and Denham, they had the bare bones of the reformist's plans, but they were running out of time. The ball was to be held in just ten days, and somehow they needed to establish a link between the shipment of black powder, in industrial quantities, and the event to be held on the banks of the Thames. It was vital they followed the trail and locate the shipment before the reformist plans could be set in motion.