Cousin Lavinia took to the pianoforte bench in the drawing room several times a day to play various dance tunes while the young cousins—and a few of the older ones too—practiced the steps. Cyril, whom Percy had sometimes accused of having two left feet, undertook to teach the steps of the waltz. That was an exercise that resulted in some progress and one spectacular crash to the floor when young Gregory got his feet hopelessly entangled with Eva’s—or when she got hers entangled with his, depending upon which of them was telling the tale. No bones were broken.
Two days before the ball, there was finally progress in another area too. Someone broke the silence. Paul Knorr, who had taken up residence in the steward’s office and disposed of most if not all of the dust and found homes for all but the current account books inside cupboards, sent Crutchley to the drawing room to request that his lordship come to see him.
“The room looks twice its size,” Percy said when he got there. “Finally I will enjoy spending time here myself. I suppose that was deliberate, though—making the room look like a place one did not want to be.”
“Bains,” Knorr said to him after getting to his feet, “the stable hand with the bad legs, spoke with Mimms a little while ago, my lord.”
“And?” Percy gestured for his steward to sit down again, and drew up a chair for himself on the other side of the desk.
“It was a very brief exchange,” Knorr said. “He would not have wanted to be seen talking to your personal groom. He asked Mimms to give you a message—from Annie Prewett, the deaf-mute housemaid.”
Percy leaned forward in his chair and raised his eyebrows. “A message from a deaf-mute?”
“I understand from Mimms,” Knorr said, “that Bains has known her since they were children and has always been close to her. Somehow they learned to communicate. She helped nurse him after his legs were broken. They are still friends, perhaps even more than that.”
“And?” Percy stared at him.
“She was cleaning Mawgan’s house, one of her regular duties, apparently, when Ratchett came there soon after your meeting,” Knorr said. “They made plans to run off to Meirion and to go into hiding.”
“They planned it in her hearing?” Percy was frowning.
“In her hearing, my lord?” Knorr half smiled. “But she cannot hear, can she? Or talk. I think most people assume she is an imbecile, if they notice her at all. She is a bit invisible, actually, I would say.”
“Why Meirion?” Percy was still frowning.
“Bains told Mimms to tell you there is a roofer there,” Knorr said. “I believe he did repairs to the dower house roof a short while ago, though I can see no mention of the expense in the books. He is married to a sister of Henry Mawgan, James Mawgan’s late father. And Mawgan sometimes stays with his uncle on his days off because he is stepping out with a girl from the village—or that is the reason he gives, anyway.”
“Tidmouth?” Percy stared at him. And pieces somehow fell into place. Imogen away at her brother’s house for several weeks over Christmas. Tidmouth delaying the repair work even though she had given the necessary instructions before she left and the job was likely to be a lucrative one. Continuing to delay after her return even though she was a titled lady and one might have expected that he would fall all over himself in his eagerness to serve her. Had the cellar of the dower house been used again for the storage of contraband during those months, as being far more safe and convenient than the main house? Percy did not imagine a few locks and seals would have posed much problem, especially with the roof open to the elements and anyone who cared to climb through it.
He brought his hand down flat on the desk.
“I know the man’s shop, with his home above it,” he said. “Is that where they are hiding out, Paul? I want them. I want this ring smashed. It is no longer enough simply to drive them off my land. They will continue to terrorize everyone upon it and be a threat to Lady Barclay’s safety for as long as they are allowed to settle in somewhere else and treat what has happened here as a mere minor setback.”
“I took the liberty,” Knorr said, “of sending Mimms to summon Sir Matthew Quentin, my lord, and the customs officer if he is still at the inn.”
“Thank you,” Percy said. “I do believe you are going to be worth your weight in gold, Paul.”
“You had better not say that again,” Knorr said. “I may demand a hefty raise.”
Sir Matthew came within the hour, bringing the customs officer with him. And five hours after that a raid was made on the Tidmouth shop and house in Meirion. Both Ratchett and Mawgan were there. Both protested their innocence. Ratchett claimed to have made the decision to retire. Mawgan claimed to have resigned as a result of his insulting treatment at the hands of his lordship and the understeward. They had come for a short stay at a relative’s home, they both said. And that might have been the end of the matter if a large number of dusty books had not been discovered inside two locked trunks in a far corner of Tidmouth’s attic beneath piles of discarded junk of the sort that tends to fill attics everywhere.
Both men were taken into custody, as was Tidmouth, loudly protesting his innocence.
It was the following morning when Mawgan broke under the combined questioning of Sir Matthew and the customs officer while Percy stood in one corner of Quentin’s study and listened. He could be charged with murder in connection with the drowning death of the late Henry Cooper, Viscount Barclay’s valet, Sir Matthew informed Mawgan. Mawgan might be willing to take his chances on there not being enough evidence for a conviction, but he ought to be warned that the other two men who had been in the boat with his father and him and the valet had been identified and found. Their evidence would convict him—unless he could place absolute trust in their remaining silent. The choice was his—risk all on a murder trial with the certainty that he would hang if he was convicted, or be tried upon the lesser charge of smuggling if he admitted to the murder and told the whole story surrounding it, including his actions in Portugal.