Page 43 of Lady Audacious
‘We issued forms to every household. The residents are obliged to complete them, or have someone else do so on their behalf if they are unable to read or write, naming every person living beneath their roof at the time of the census and their relationship to the householder. There are severe penalties for those who fail to comply. The forms are sent to us, we diligently record everything in ledgers and then send the originals onto the central census office in London.’
‘The first census took place in 1801,’ the earl went on to explain, even though Odile already knew it. ‘They are to be carried out at ten-yearly intervals thereafter, which meant that there was another in 1811.’
‘I have been reliably informed that the house was spasmodically occupied by a reclusive gentleman up to the time of my parents’ death,’ Odile said. ‘If he was living there at the time of the first census then he would have had to complete the form, one assumes.’
‘Precisely so,’ the earl replied, ‘but I do wonder why there was never any gossip in the village about the recluse’s activities.’
‘I expect there was but I assume you were a child at the time. Besides,’ Odile added with a whimsical smile, ‘earls surely do not listen to gossip.’
‘You quite mistake the matter,’ he replied, matching her smile. ‘It is the most reliable way of gathering information that I know of.’
‘Ah, I stand corrected.’ Her smile faded. ‘Perhaps the man was engaged in illegal activities, which would account for his reclusive tendencies. If he were to socialise, then questions would be asked about his entitlement. But then again, maybe he was just reclusive by nature and chose not to complete his census form.’
‘That would be impossible,’ Marshall said in a forthright and condescending manner, seeming to think that Odile’s sex precluded her from the right to any kind of intelligent opinion. ‘It would be against the law.’
‘Ah, well then…’ Odile was again forced to fight against a smile.
‘Well, we know Harris has been in his position for five years, so the property has been vacant for at least that long,’ the earl said briskly. ‘Marshall, we would like to see the records for Fox’s Reach in Amberley if you please.’
Marshall nodded. ‘At once, my lord.’ He rang a bell, which was answered by the clerk whose efforts to prevent them from disturbing his master had been so ineffectual. ‘If you would care to follow Fletcher, my lord, he will take you to the archives and find the ledgers you require. If I can be of any further service, you have but to say the word.’
The earl nodded and stood back so that Odile could pass ahead of him through the door that Fletcher opened for them.
Odile liked Fletcher much better than the pompous and patronising town clerk. He retrieved the ledger for Amberley in respect of the 1801 census quickly. Licking his finger, he turned the pages until he came to the appropriate one. He then placed it on the table at which Odile and the earl had seated themselves and stood back.
Odile took a deep breath, worried that she would finally find answers but might not like what they told her. The earl squeezed her hand and leaned over to read the entry that interested them.
‘Here we are,’ Lord Amberley said, running his finger along the appropriate line. ‘A Mr Quintin Smythe occupied Fox’s Reach in 1801.’
‘He must be our recluse,’ Odile said excitedly.
‘And look what else he was.’ The earl pointed to his occupation.
‘An apothecary,’ she breathed, turning to look at the earl through eyes shining with emotion. ‘We are getting somewhere.’ She felt her excitement quickly waning. ‘Except that we are not, not really. We have absolutely no idea what happened to Mr Smythe, or why he was so reclusively inclined, for that matter.’
‘Even so, it’s a start.’
‘It doesn’t name any servants, which implies that they didn’t live in,’ Odile pointed out, unable to keep the disappointment out of her tone.
‘He must have employed someone to take care of his needs,’ the earl replied briskly. ‘He names a caretaker but he would have been Harris’s predecessor, who is now dead. If the rest of his servants travelled with him, they would have lived in and he would have had to name them. So it follows that he employed them locally and they will likely still live in the village.’
‘No one has come forward.’
‘Have your asked for information?’
‘Well no,’ Odile conceded, ‘but I should have thought that Harris or Mrs Blaine would remember.’
‘Harris was away at the war.’
‘And Mrs Blaine would have been working in London at the time.’ Odile bit her lip. ‘The other people I have employed are too young to recall anything about the time of Mr Smythe’s occupation.’
‘I will instigate enquiries in the village and I’m sure I can obtain more information before the day’s end,’ he replied cheerfully. ‘In a tight-knit local community, everyone knows everyone else’s business.’
‘Let’s take a look at 1811, Fletcher.’
The appropriate ledger was produced, but Fox’s Reach was marked as unoccupied at the time, with just the name of the now-deceased caretaker shown.
‘I am told he was not a local man, so there’s no one we can ask about him,’ the earl said. ‘Never mind. We are not defeated yet. Fletcher, have the goodness to check your births, deaths and marriages records and see if you can come up with anything for our Quintin Smythe. Oh, and while you are at it, see if there are death records for a couple by the name of Aspen eleven years ago.’
