Page 26 of A Lady's Heart Deceived
Jonathan cleared his throat and Piers flinched. He didn’t like the expression on his brother’s face. It spoke of deep worry. And bad news.
“Elizabeth met Lady Dinah’s brother, Lord Gibney, in town last week. He was here for the wool sales. Apparently, and don’t quote me on this, she has become quite sweet on the son of a local magistrate. The chap in question has a good background, and the family has a magnificent estate not far from London.”
Piers hadn’t heard anything directly from his former fiancée, but he could understand why her brother had made mention of it to Elizabeth. It was a subtle but pointed nudge for him to do something about his situation, and therefore give Lady Dinah a way out of their betrothal.
At least that was one mess Piers could do something about. While he was here in Coventry, he would pen a letter to Lady Dinah, asking for a month’s grace, at the end of which she could officially jilt him. In doing so, it would put a time limit on his own actions and free the ever-patient earl’s daughter from their agreement.
She has been more than generous in holding off.
“I swear that between now and Christmas I will get this matter resolved. I’m tired of having the bloody Sword of Damocles hanging over my head. The army can’t prove me guilty of anything because … well, I didn’t do anything wrong. If I had stayed where Major Hall wanted me, the Prince of Orange would be dead. As for the rest of the vile rumors, well they have no substance.”
He had done his job as best he could. Brought the wounded prince to safety and helped save his life. And yet, all he had received in return was his name slandered in a scathing report from the battle and the army’s continued refusal to let him resign.
Piers glanced at his empty glass, picked it up, and held it out to his brother. “I could do with another, and this time, don’t hold back when you pour.”
Chapter Seventeen
He might well be in Coventry and a welcome hundred miles away from Major Hall, but the army still had its claws firmly stuck in Piers’s skin. The first thing on his long list of things to do the morning after he and Maggie arrived in the city was to report to the barracks on Smithford Street and let the commanding officer know of his presence.
Before joining the army, Piers had enjoyed a life of freedom with few ties. Having to answer to the army when all he wanted to do was resign his commission was humiliating. But he was not going to give them any excuse to punish him further. He couldn’t think of anything worse than spending his days filling in paperwork and answering letters, but he was certain that, given half the chance, Major Hall could come up with something.
The barracks themselves were mostly empty with only a few guards marching up and down the square. He made himself known at the gate and was quickly escorted to the main administrative building, where the clearly perplexed muster roll officer, Captain Ward, greeted him.
“Captain Denford. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I didn’t realize we had troop movements coming up from London. Do you have your orders with you?” he asked.
Piers shook his head. “No soldiers; just me. I am under direct orders from Major Hall at the Horse Guards. He has sent me to deal with an outstanding matter.”
The captain raised a single eyebrow in response to Piers’s cryptic words but wisely said nothing. From the white and gray specks in his hair, coupled with the deep crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes, he appeared to be a man who had already seen more than enough during his service in the army. Men like him understood the expression of being on a need-to-know basis only too well. “I see. Is there anything I can help you with, Captain Denford?”
Piers’s conversation with Jonathan dropped into his thoughts. He had told his brother he was going start asking for more assistance. Stop being so stubbornly self-reliant and take back control of his life. That included seeking help from all levels of society. Not just the rich and powerful.
“Any assistance you can give me will be gratefully received. I am looking for an officer who was reportedly born in Coventry. He died at Waterloo. There appears to be an issue with his records, and Major Hall is most keen to have the matter set straight. I was hoping to be able to check the muster or payroll records here. The officer in question claimed to have been based in Coventry some time before shipping out for the final battle against Napoleon’s forces. But my understanding is that there weren’t any regiments coming out of Coventry. Were there any based here?”
His suspicions regarding Robert Taylor were well-formed; he just needed them to be confirmed.
“Apart from the guards and a few administrative officers, there isn’t a permanent body of soldiers here. There hasn’t been since the Seventeenth and then the Fourteenth Light Dragoons were stationed at the barracks, and that goes back some eight years. The Smithford Street Barracks are purely a stopping point for regiments moving from the north to the south and vice versa. This officer you seek wasn’t stationed here. But, if you think he originated from Coventry, then you might have better luck searching the parish records of the local churches,” replied Captain Ward.
Piers was disappointed, but not at all surprised. He hadn’t expected to have luck with the barracks, but he owed it to Maggie to make sure he chased down all possible leads. To get to the truth of Robert Taylor.
The churches it is. I hope they have their records in order.
“Would you happen to know which of the major churches might keep the records of people baptized here in the city of Coventry? If I am going to see if I can find the elusive captain in them, I might as well start with the bigger ones.”
“Ah, yes, I would. While St. Michael’s is the larger church, it’s actually Holy Trinity where most of the records of the city are kept. I would suggest you start there. It is on New Street at the top of the hill. Do you know where that is?”
Piers nodded. “Yes, my younger brother, Jonathan, lives in St. Mary’s Street. He is a senior member of the company which owns and manages the Coventry canal.”
A knowing smile appeared on the captain’s lips. “I was wondering if you were Piers Denford, not just Captain Denford. I’m originally from Thrapston; my mother used to work in the kitchens at Denford Park.”
“Ah, small world. I recall Mrs. Ward; she used to bake the most wonderful scones. She would put a slice of cheese inside them as soon as they came out of the oven. I burnt my tongue on them more than once in a greedy attempt to stuff a hot scone into my mouth. Tell me, is your mother still alive?”
Captain Ward gave a brief shake of his head. “No, we lost Mama a few years back. I was on service in the Canadian territories at the time. I am glad to hear that you enjoyed her cooking; I do miss her scones.”
“I shall remind my mother of yours when I next visit Denford Park. Now I wish I had a hot scone in my hand,” said Piers.
After a brief exchange of salutes, Piers headed toward the front door. In a matter of minutes, he was climbing the slight rise which led up to the Holy Trinity Church. His mission? To find the baptismal records of Robert Eustace Taylor.
Inside the towering medieval structure which dated back to the thirteenth century, he found a deacon who led him down into the dusty chamber of records. There were shelves full of scrolls and papers. In the middle of the room, a large oak table was covered in numerous piles of papers and books. The thought that all of them contained the parish records of births, marriages, and deaths had Piers wishing he had stopped for a cup of tea on his way up the hill.
