After a moment, his tone hardening, he added, “There’s one more thing. Hillsythe’s room being secretly searched after he’d been kidnapped—the reason for that could only be to ensure that he’d left nothing to indicate who had taken him. As one of my men pointed out, that means the kidnappers are no longer hypothetical but demonstrably real—only real people can effect a search, and only real people fear being found out.”
“Hmm. That also means they—the kidnappers—were still here, in the settlement, after Hillsythe was taken, and they were willing to act to ensure they weren’t detected—which in turn suggests they intended to remain and presumably continue their nefarious activities.” She frowned. “If we consider that far more people than just the four men have vanished—and therefore are most likely kidnap victims, too—all without raising any alert, much less a panic, then whoever is behind the kidnappings has been very clever.”
“And calm and collected. They’ve grown confident, apparently with good reason.” After a moment, he refocused on her. “So what did you learn? Did you get your chance to speak with Mrs. Sherwood?”
“Indeed.” Edwina sat straighter and marshaled her thoughts. “I was right about Mrs. Sherwood being bothered by talk of these ‘disappearances.’ Some months ago, the nanny they’d brought from England to look after their children vanished.” She related all she’d learned from Mrs. Sherbrook. “Of course, she feels responsible for bringing Katherine Fortescue here and so placing her in danger, even though Katherine wanted the position.”
Having staff of her own, she could empathize with Mrs. Sherbrook’s distress. She could even more definitely empathize with Katherine. If it hadn’t been for her brother Julian’s sacrifice… In Edwina’s head, the words But for the grace of Julian, I might have been Katherine tolled. Instead, rather than having to work as a governess to survive, here she was, still received by the ton and all society as the duke’s daughter she was, and married to a man she liked, respected, and was learning to adore. A man who could give her, and was giving her, all her heart desired.
In that moment, she made a silent, almost unconscious—certainly instinctive—vow. As a young woman who could have stood in Katherine Fortescue’s shoes, if there was anything she could do to rescue Katherine, she would do it.
She raised her gaze to Declan’s face and realized he was frowning. “What is it?”
“I just remembered—I don’t think I told you that Charles Babington mentioned he knew of a young lady who has also disappeared. I got the impression he was interested in her. He referred to her as a young lady, and I doubt he would have even met the Sherbrooks’ nanny—I somehow doubt the Sherbrooks’ nanny moved in the circles Babington does.”
“So we’ve now got four men—officers and gentlemen—and at least two women—both gentry—known to be missing.” Edwina paused, then said, “That suggests that the so-called rumors of children going missing are also very likely to be true.”
When Declan accepted her thesis with a grim look and no argument, she spread her hands in mystification. “Why isn’t anything being done about this? Why are the authorities behaving with such determined blindness?”
He grimaced. “That’s worrying me, too. Especially as even Babington—however reluctantly and against his instincts—appears to have swallowed the prevailing line.” A second later, his eyes narrowing, he amended, “Or at least he feels compelled to pretend he has.”
Declan took another slow sip of his whisky. After a moment, he said, “As much as I dislike the man, I can imagine an excuse for Decker’s inaction on this issue. He’s been at sea commanding the squadron for much of this last year. His office here, at least, knows of Dixon’s disappearance because they must have passed on Melville’s orders sending Hopkins to search for Dixon, and then when Hopkins vanished, they informed Melville, who sent Fanshawe after Hopkins. Decker’s office also knows of Fanshawe’s disappearance because they notified the Admiralty of it, but given the timing, it’s entirely possible that Decker himself has been at sea chasing slave traders since before Dixon disappeared.”
“So even if he was here, Decker might not know about Hillsythe being sent in, or Hillsythe disappearing, too.”
Declan shook his head. “Neither Decker nor his office would know about Hillsythe. Wolverstone and Melville wouldn’t have notified them. They aren’t trusting anyone here, and that includes Decker.”
“So we can absolve Decker of any negligence, any lack of action on this issue.” Edwina paused, then went on, “But Decker isn’t here anyway, so we can ignore him for the moment.” She looked at Declan. “What about the major who’s in charge at the fort? He at least knows Dixon has vanished.”
“Major Eldridge.” Declan frowned. “Dixon’s fellow officers are not happy about the way Dixon’s disappearance has been treated, and it seemed they’d been fobbed off with the same story we had from Holbrook…” Declan pulled a face. “I just remembered—Eldridge and Holbrook don’t get on. That’s not entirely unusual in the circumstances. Eldridge is responsible for the defense of the settlement from attack from outside, but Holbrook sits above him, and it’s Holbrook’s responsibility to call on Eldridge to act against threats from within the settlement.”
“So if Holbrook doesn’t call on Eldridge to act, he can’t?”
“Not without causing a major ruckus. But in this case, Melville might have muddied the waters even further by asking Decker to send men—Hopkins and, subsequently, Fanshawe—to search for Dixon. It’s entirely possible Eldridge doesn’t know that Hopkins and Fanshawe were dispatched to search for Dixon or that they’ve disappeared, too.” Declan shifted restlessly. “And Eldridge certainly won’t have heard about Hillsythe.”
“And I suppose there’s no reason to imagine that any of the other disappearances—the young women and children—would be brought to the major’s attention?”
“No. I can’t see why they would.” After a moment, Declan said, “Considering the tension I found at the fort, I wouldn’t mind wagering that Eldridge, entirely correctly, reported Dixon’s disappearance to Holbrook, fully expecting to be given orders to do whatever he needed to find the man. Instead, Holbrook insisted Dixon had gone off on his own account. Holbrook might well have specifically refused Eldridge permission to investigate, and as Eldridge had no evidence that there had been any foul play involved, Eldridge might have been forced to comply—to at least outwardly support Holbrook’s line.”
Declan paused, then added, “What little I know of Eldridge paints him as a stickler for correctness, so no matter how much he might personally disagree, if Holbrook insisted, Eldridge would toe his line.”
“But why would the governor do such a thing? Surely if something nefarious is going on in his town, he’d want it dealt with immediately and as effectively as possible. Why would he deny Eldridge permission to investigate?”
“I think we’re missing something. Or rather, we’re overlooking something because we don’t know enough about it to see how it impacts this situation.” Leaning forward and resting his forearms on his thighs, Declan cradled his glass between his hands. “Holbrook’s old, but not that old. He’s probably got another decade of postings ahead of him. And without a doubt, he’ll be hoping his next posting will be to some rather more civilized place than Freetown.”
“So you think he views his time here as a stepping-stone to somewhere better?”
Declan nodded. “He might even have been sent here as a trial of sorts—to prove himself under more testing circumstances.”
“By sweeping matters of life and death under some carpet?”
Declan’s eyes narrowed. He stared unseeing across the room, then he raised his glass and sipped. Lowering the glass, he murmured, “Holbrook might actually believe his nonsense about men going off to seek their fortunes in the jungle. If he feels under pressure to present his tenure here as all smooth sailing, then—and as I said, we don’t know enough to be certain—he might have a vested interest in downplaying Dixon’s
disappearance. We don’t know if Holbrook knows about Fanshawe and Hopkins going missing. Decker’s office might not have—indeed, most likely wouldn’t have—informed Holbrook of that, not without Decker’s approval, which couldn’t have been forthcoming because he’s at sea. But Holbrook will certainly have been informed of Hillsythe vanishing from his own office.”
Declan paused, swiftly assessing. “It’s possible that Holbrook only knows of Dixon going missing a few months ago, and Hillsythe more recently—and of the Sherbrooks’ nanny, assuming he even truly registered the substance of Mr. Sherbrook’s complaint. Given Holbrook had fixed it in his head that Dixon had wandered off into the jungle, it might have seemed wise to cling to the same explanation whenever anyone suggested a disappearance. Holbrook might simply be intent on keeping his colony calm, rather than risking what to him might seem unnecessary panic…”
He sipped again, then said, “Actually, I can see that easily enough. Holbrook has to keep Macauley and Babington happy—the company drives all trade in this town. And Macauley especially is of that generation that places a high value on order and calm wherever he does business. Any hint of a panic that might affect his warehouses and Macauley will be writing letters to London.”
“When I brought up the subject of people going missing, Mrs. Macauley, at least, knew nothing about it.” Edwina grimaced. “But by the end of the conversation, she’d accepted the view that it was nothing to be concerned about.”
“That does, however, suggest that Holbrook hasn’t mentioned it to Macauley. And although Macauley, businessman that he is, undoubtedly meets with Eldridge and Decker, too, Decker’s away and has been for some time, and even if Macauley’s recently spoken with Eldridge, the major would have parroted Holbrook’s line and wouldn’t have mentioned Dixon’s disappearance—not something he’d be likely to mention to Macauley anyway.”
Edwina frowned. “This is a mess. Foreign office bureaucratic posturing, army, navy, and a lucrative trade monopoly all mixed together.”
Declan snorted, then shook his head. “This is one time I’m thoroughly glad that Frobisher and Sons doesn’t have much interest in a major trading port.” He paused, then went on, “Regardless, Wolverstone and Melville were right. We can trust no one here, and we can’t rely on anyone for help. Not even Decker, given he’s at sea—Melville’s letter to him isn’t much use if I can’t present it.”
Edwina slowly nodded, then refocused on his face. “So what now?”
He dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling. Sifting through all they’d learned took time; deciding whether it was enough took longer still. Eventually, he offered, “We’ve learned a few things.” Enough to make him want to invoke Wolverstone’s orders and cut and run, but… He shook his head. “We need something more definite to allow Melville and Wolverstone to build a case for urgent and decisive action. That’s what they really sent me down here to get.”
And at this point, he had no idea what that something more might be.
Edwina, his wife, who wasn’t even supposed to be there with him, set her mind to the problem; squinting across the room, from beneath his lashes, he studied the concentration—the determination—that had invested her features.
Then she looked up and met his gaze, and he knew she’d thought of something.
“What about a list of all those who’ve gone missing—as many as we can verify? Surely that will underscore the need for action.”
He considered it, then sat up. “A list like that…would certainly emphasize Wolverstone’s point that something very serious is going on, and that it cannot be allowed to continue to develop, whatever it is.” The more he thought of it, the more confident he felt. He refocused on Edwina. “So where can we get such a list? I doubt the governor’s office will be any help at all.”
He could sense her rising enthusiasm all the way across the room.
“No, indeed.” She smiled intently. “But I suspect the Hardwickes will be. Remember I mentioned that Mrs. Hardwicke was the first who told me that the disappearances were widespread? She—and I believe Reverend Hardwicke, too—don’t agree with the governor’s explanation, but like Eldridge, they’ve been stymied by Holbrook’s insistently dismissive attitude.”
She glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s too late to call on the Hardwickes this evening. But I can call on Mrs. Hardwicke first thing in the morning, before she has a chance to go out, and ask her outright if we can assemble a list of all those known to have gone missing—young women and children, as well.”
Declan considered that suggestion. Obtaining such a list would go a long way toward accomplishing what they needed, and he couldn’t see her being at risk while with the minister’s wife. And she would have her guards with her while traveling there and back. He nodded. “Good.”
He thought, then drained his glass, lowered it, and said, “While you’re doing that, I’m going to investigate one last angle regarding our four missing men.” He met her blue eyes, read her inquisitive interest, smiled, and confided, “It’s an approach I mentioned when we first came ashore, but one I haven’t yet followed up. Did our four men have any contact in common—someone they knew or some place they all visited?” He envisioned the possibilities. “Did their paths through this colony—all four of them—intersect at some point?”
Edwina sobered. After a moment, she said, “That won’t be easy to learn, not without asking a lot of questions—questions that will reveal the true nature of your interest.”
He set his glass down with a click. “True. But as I don’t see us remaining in Freetown much longer—we need to get back and tell Wolverstone and Melville what they need to know—then I believe it’s time we were more open, at least with those who are friends of the missing and who are transparently concerned for their safety.”
Edwina nodded. She had to agree. She just hoped he took some of his men with him when he went striding about the settlement.
She let her mind roam over and around all they’d thus far learned. She glanced at Declan, waited until he met her gaze. “What has happened to all these people—the men, women, and children who’ve been kidnapped? If they haven’t been killed, then presumably, whoever took them has some use or need for them. What could that be?”
After a moment of blankness, Declan grimaced. “Slavery instantly leaps to mind, but…that doesn’t quite fit.”
“Slavery?” She frowned. “I remember you said it was unlikely slave traders would operate inside the settlement”—she’d thought his mentioning such villainy had simply been him being overprotective—“but surely, in general, the practice has been outlawed in all British colonies.”
“It has been. It is. Sadly, that doesn’t mean it’s not still going on. That’s why the West Africa Squadron is here—or rather, out patrolling the seas off the coast.” He paused, then went on, “I would lay odds on there being slave traders still operating in this area. Not through Freetown but out of the inlets up and down the coast. However, from all we’ve learned, it’s only Europeans who’ve gone missing, and these days, the ramifications of slavers seizing Europeans, especially men, especially those in the British armed forces, and then trying to sell them… I can’t say that definitely isn’t what’s happening here, but the odds seem very much against it.”
She nodded. “That makes sense. So if not slavery, then…what? What are these people being—for want of a better phrase—collected for?”
He shook his head. “Damned if I know.”
* * *
Edwina forced herself to wait until ten o’clock the next morning before climbing into the carriage and having Dench drive her the short distance down the hill to the rectory. The Hardwickes lived in a neat little house cheek by jowl with the church. Unlike the bungalows farther up the hill, there were no walls or gates barring entrance. Edwina walked briskly up the garden path, climbed the two steps to the porch, and rapped on the door.
A maid answered the summons and, on being asked for her mistress, cond
ucted Edwina directly into a comfortable parlor where Mrs. Hardwicke sat sewing.
On seeing Edwina, Mrs. Hardwicke’s severe features brightened. “Lady Edwina. It’s a pleasure to see you.” Hurriedly, she set aside her sewing.
But when she made to struggle up from the depths of her armchair, Edwina waved her back. “No—please. This is an entirely informal visit.”
“I see.” Sinking back, Mrs. Hardwicke eyed her shrewdly and waved to the sofa. “Please, do take a seat.”
Once Edwina had complied and settled her skirts, Mrs. Hardwicke continued, “I assume this visit has a purpose, but before we broach it, would you care for some refreshment?”
“Thank you, but no. We—my husband and I—are on something of a deadline. His business here will shortly be concluded, and once it is, we’ll be on our way again.” Edwina fixed her gaze on Mrs. Hardwicke’s face. “I wanted to ask you about these strange disappearances. In particular, it’s come to my attention that several young women of good character—two at least, possibly more—have vanished. I believe you also have concerns about children—those from the lower classes who have been deemed to have run away.”
Mrs. Hardwicke’s face hardened. “I’ve made no bones about the degree of my concern. You’re quite right about the young women. I know of at least four—all perfectly sensible young women—whose acquaintances are at their wits’ end. None of those young women would ever have just walked away from their positions.”
“Were they all in service?”
“Of one stripe or another, yes. Two governesses, a young woman who worked for the local milliner, and the niece of one of the local merchants who helped in his shop.”
“I see.” Edwina committed the information to memory. “And the children?”