Page 27 of Rogue of the Greenwood
The men from Nottingham shook their heads. Not surprising; Robert would have expected such machinations to be kept secret. He still wasn’t sure why Gisborn would participate in schemes to allow St. John such unfettered access to the estate. The best that could come of it would be in the event of Robert’s default—or demise—St. John would gain possession.
Based on those brutes at the wharf and Gisborn’s lies regarding Robert’s presumed death, it seemeddemisehad been exactly what Gisborn was counting on. But how did this benefit the shifty steward? As long as St. John held the mortgage, he could claim the estate as his, leaving Gisborn out in the cold.
Unless, of course, Gisborn had some hold over St. John. Now that was an angle Robert hadn’t explored. Indeed, Gisborn was no fool. There must be something sure, something Gisborn knew he could count on. But what could that be? Robert realized that whatever Gisborn held as his ace card over St. John, this was the key to unraveling their plot and regaining his life.
“I need to know about this mortgage, about the terms of it and how it was drawn up,” he said, half to himself.
“I can ask Mr. Hatch about it,” Mr. Fraytuck suggested. “He worked as a solicitor in town until fairly recently, when his health began to fail. I’m going to visit him tomorrow and I’m sure I can find some way to mention the Locksley estate in conversation.”
Much chimed in with a suggestion of his own. “And I can ask Meg.”
“Who is Meg?” Robert asked.
“Er… I meant, Miss St. John. I am rather friendly with her.”
“Meg St. John? The magistrate’s daughter?”
Robert was only slightly surprised that he’d even forgotten the girl existed. In years gone by, she had been Marianne Maidland’s constant companion. The girls were cousins, of course, and as different as night and day. While Marianne was bold and outrageous, Meg was timid and sensible. Marianne was tall and substantial, with waves of that flaming, unruly hair. Meg had been mousy and drab. The fact that she hadn’t been married off yet—and that George Muchleigh went red in the face when he mentioned her—was amazing to Robert.
“You think you could broach the subject with her?” Robert asked.
“She is not like her father,” Much said quickly. “She is kind and has her own mind. I can ask her what she knows, without giving anything away, of course.”
“You’d better be quick about, then,” Mr. Fraytuck said. “I just heard from Mrs. Tinkleton this morning that she’s about to become engaged to Mr. Reeve.”
The ruddy glow instantly faded from Much’s face. “She told me she doesn’t care for that blustery blackguard!”
Mr. Fraytuck shrugged. “Perhaps she doesn’t have any say in the matter. You know Mr. Reeve lives in her father’s pocket.”
Much clenched and unclenched his fists, grinding his teeth as he scowled. “And her father has no love for me.”
“Chin up, lad,” Alan said brightly. “You’ve got your old pal Robert back. I daresay things will be looking up for all of us soon enough.”
There was laughter, and Robert joined in, despite the worry in the pit of his stomach. Would he be ableto help these people? He’d been back in Nottingham a single day and already a half dozen people were counting on him to make their lives better. Considering where he was now, in an empty, abandoned lodge with a few meagre supplies and hardly more than the clothes on his back, he was surprised anyone could have faith in him. He certainly had little himself.
That seemed to make no difference to the others. They were hopeful despite everything. Young Henry laughed louder than the others, his voice garbled from a mouthful of food that Will had dug out of a parcel for him.
“I’m already looking up!” Henry said. “It’s like Robin Hood has come back to save all of us; I know he’ll even get my Mum out of that work house.”
“So they took your mother, lad?” Mr. Fraytuck asked.
Henry nodded. “My Mum told me to stay hid from them when they came, so they took her and left me alone.”
“The scoundrels,” Robert grumbled, then added details for the vicar. “Apparently it’s the usual story—the boy’s parents couldn’t pay the taxes, so his father went to gaol and his mother went to work in that ruddy factory. Henry here is lucky, though. My butler, Balford, found him a place in the manor.”
“I work in the kitchens sometimes, and out in the stables with Bert,” Henry boasted. “Balford gives me my pay every week. On my day off, I go visit my Mum and then I go to the gaol and pay on my dad’s fine.”
“How much is still owed?” Robert asked.
Henry screwed his face, then dug into his pocket for a crumpled scrap of paper. “Here, I been keepingaccount. Balford showed me how to do the sums so I know how much I paid.”
He handed the paper to Robert. Numbers were scratched on it, almost illegibly. After getting a few points of clarification from the boy, Robert figured that the family still owed a daunting amount. Yet the boy clearly didn’t begrudge paying it out of the pennies he earned every week. Robert doubted those pennies actually came from the Locksley coffers, but more likely from Balford himself. Too many good people were suffering.
Robert simplyhad todo something about it.
“You’re a good lad,” he told Henry. “We’ll get your father out of that gaol and see that your family is back together. Here, see what you can do with this.”
Robert grabbed the pouch of coins he’d just received and pulled several out for the boy. Surely he needed it more than any of them just now. It wasn’t enough to pay the full fine, but it would raise the lad’s spirit.
